Page 47 of Fortress of Snow

“I am the commander.”

“Sir, a group of men calling themselves ‘Wat Tyler’s Sons’ are beating and robbing people in the streets, and they’re coming this way. They’re coming to avenge Wat Tyler’s death, saying his blood is on King Richard’s hands.”

Berenger hurried to sound the alarm and gather as many guards as could be spared from the Tower, but he put his best men at the Tower gates. He could not risk having a violent throng invading the Tower complex again, as had happened in the original Wat Tyler’s Rebellion.

He urged his horse into a gallop, leading his men out of the Tower gates and into London.

Mazy. Was she safe? She and her friend were at their booth in the marketplace, no doubt. The little market where Mazy sold her goods was not far from the Tower of London, and the angry men who were beating and robbing people were on their way there.

The man could have been wrong. There were always rumors that another rebellion was coming. A few smaller revolts had begun, stirred up here and there, but had quickly been stopped, the leaders executed.

He was ahead of the other soldiers, but there were several who were close on his horse’s heels. He headed straight for the market, and even before he got there, he heard screams.

Women were running and men were shouting and waving their arms at Berenger and his men. In the distance a man was running through the market with a thick club raised over his head. Behind him were more men with various weapons, beating anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way.

He urged his horse to go faster, searching the crowd for Mazy.

Heat rose inside him, but he set his mind on the battle ahead. He would not allow anyone to harm Mazy, nor any other innocent person. He prayed his battle prayer.

O God, send Your mighty angels with their flaming swords to help me.

Mazy and Ro rushed to pack up their things, tying the bags closed. But just as they were clearing off the last of the bread,getting ready to carry the bags to their horse and tie them on, shouts and screams sounded just beyond the street to the east.

“They’re coming!” Ro froze in place, her face crumpling.

Mazy’s blood went cold. “It’s all right. Get on the horse and go get your father.”

“I can’t leave you!”

Mazy could see that Ro was about to become hysterical. Several women were fleeing the marketplace.

“Go now. Your father will bring men who can help us.”

“No, I can’t go without you.” Tears were streaming down Ro’s face as she shook her head from side to side and clasped her hands to her chest.

“You can and you must.”

Ro just kept shaking her head. She wasn’t going to leave without her. And the rioters were already upon them, chasing anyone who tried to flee. If she and Ro ran now, the men could come after them.

“Then we have to hide behind the counter.” Mazy shoved Ro to her knees under the wooden plank that served as a place to display goods, then crouched beside her. The front of the stall would hopefully help hide them.

Mazy peeked over the table. Men with clubs, hoes, and long sticks were quickly pouring into the marketplace. They toppled stalls and booths with their makeshift weapons, swinging at everything in their path, including people. Mazy watched as one man came upon a woman squatting on the ground. Theman used his foot to shove her onto her back as he swung his club at the stall next to her. Wood cracked. He hit it again and it collapsed, reduced to a pile of wood and tarp.

The man who was in the lead was shouting, “Death to tyrants! Death and mayhem until Wat Tyler is avenged!” He seemed to be the leader of the group, and he was coming toward her.

Mazy unsheathed her knives and prayed,O God, protect me.

She held a knife in each hand as the man was suddenly upon her. His gaze fixed on her and he sneered, showing broken and missing teeth. He looked just like the man who had accosted her after she visited St.Paul’s Cathedral when she had first come to London.

Mazy glared back at him. Should she throw one of her knives? Was she truly prepared to kill him? His friends were right behind him, and a few of them were also fixing their eyes on her. She couldn’t throw the knife if he came too close.

The man swung his club, connecting with one of the uprights on Mazy’s booth and snapping it in two. Ro screamed as the side of the stall collapsed.

Mazy backed away a few steps and threw her knife. It stuck in the man’s upper arm.

The man’s eyes went wide. He roared with rage and ran at Mazy, raising his club to strike her.

Instead of throwing her other knife and losing her only weapon, she sidestepped and slashed at him, cutting his forearm.