As soon as he finished speaking, Suleiman clamped his legs against the horse's flanks.
The warhorse beneath him let out a long neigh, pawed at the ground, then shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. It was the first to plunge into the bone-chilling river. A huge splash rose up, and the icy water quickly swallowed the horse's belly.
He sat steadily in the saddle and rode resolutely toward the opposite bank. The entire army froze for a moment at this sudden turn of events.
Bryn was the first to react. His burly frame seemed like that of a giant bear roused to fury. A thunderous roar shattered the silence. "Follow Lord Suleiman!"
"Cross the river!" Rosso and Brune shouted together, drawing their swords. The mounted retainers and infantry under their command seemed to be yanked forward by an invisible thread. Without a thought or a moment's hesitation, they entered the icy Green Fork in silence and pressed on.
Lymond Lychester watched Suleiman's retreating back, then glanced at the soldiers already moving beside him. He shook his head with a wry smile, flicked his reins, and rode into the river.
When the Lychester knights saw their commander hesitate, they cried out, "For honor! For Gold Dragons and land! Follow Lord Lymond! Cross the river!"
The Lychester soldiers answered with earth-shaking shouts and poured into the river, each trying to be first. Now only the hesitant allied troops remained on the bank. They looked at one another, seeing panic and helplessness in each other's eyes.
The torrent of men ahead had already formed. No one dared turn back now. To retreat meant betrayal; it meant becoming the next House Pyle. They had no choice.
One after another, they plunged into the flood. The tremendous tide had swept them up