Walter Haigh rushed out of the command tent, and the cold wind outside sent a shudder through him.
But the fire in his heart burned fiercer than ever now that he had decided to stake everything on one desperate fight.
"Saddle my horse!"
He roared at his panic-stricken attendants.
A tall warhorse was led over.
The horse pawed the ground restlessly, as if it, too, sensed its master's agitation and madness.
Walter Haigh swung into the saddle, his movements somewhat clumsy with excitement.
He gripped the reins and swept his gaze over the knights and officers who had come from their tents at his summons.
Their faces were filled with bewilderment and unease. They had no idea what had happened.
"My lord?"
"What happened?"
"Why are we suddenly mustering the troops?"
Walter Haigh did not answer.
He merely stared at them with an almost fanatical gaze, looking over the knights and officers of House Haigh who would soon follow him into battle.
He issued his first command, his voice loud and resolute.
"Do not let the soldiers know what we are going to do!"
Walter Haigh watched the assembled knights and officers of House Haigh exchange glances, their fear and tension mounting.
Then he drew a deep breath and roared with all his strength.
His voice tore through the stillness above the camp like a thunderclap.
"The enemy is in Duskold Town!!!"
In an instant, every face changed.
An uproar erupted among the knights and officers.
Inside the tent, Ser Derrick struggled up from the ground, ignoring the blood at the corner of his mouth.
He staggered out of the tent and rushed toward Walter Haigh's warhorse.
"My lord! You must not do this!"
He tried to seize his lord's horse and make one final appeal.
Walter Haigh did not