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‘What’s the matter…haven’t you seen a man stripped to the waist before?’
Alice bridled at the taunt in his voice, eyes snapping open once more. ‘What? Nay, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I haven’t!’ she blurted out.
.....
Slowly, reluctantly, Alice compelled herself to focus on the men around her. Her heart plummeted. Five soldiers surrounded her, crowded in on her neat, seated figure, staring down at her with hungry, bloodshot eyes. Orange rust blighted their dented plate armour, mud and what looked like dried blood splattered their long cloaks; their surcoats were torn and dirty. White exhaustion clouded their faces, the shadowed hollows beneath their eyes only adding to their expressions of ruthless desperation. And on the front of their tunics, God forbid, the distinctive coat-of-arms of the Duke of York! Her eyes widened fractionally; these men were knights, not common soldiers, and as knights should be bound by the chivalric code, the first rule of which was to treat any woman with respect! A fierce, wild anger began to replace her initial fear; before anyone could stop her, she sprang to her feet, tearing at the gag across her mouth.
‘You will pay for this!’ Her eyes, flashing blue fire, swept derisively around the circle of men as she jabbed her finger at them. ‘I am under the protection of King Henry the Sixth himself, not some serving wench to be dallied with in the forest!’ Her voice was shrill.
.....
