IN EARLY SEPTEMBER, Philippe led a raid into the Norman Vexin and burned eighteen towns. Richard had only sixty men with him and hastily sent for reinforcements as he kept the French army under surveillance. As soon as he was joined by two hundred knights and Mercadier with a band of his routiers, he launched an attack. The French were looting and were caught by surprise, suffering many casualties as they fled toward Philippe’s castle at Vernon. Richard’s men captured thirty knights, forty men-at-arms, and thirty horses, and inflicted another wound to the French king’s reputation. But the war continued and took on an even greater savagery, with both kings ordering the blinding of prisoners, each one blaming the other for initiating the mutilation and thus forcing retaliation. Those caught in the middle of this firestorm of hatred knew only that Normandy had become a bloody killing field where Death held dominion, not the kings of England and France.
GUILLAIN DE L’ETANG HAD been very busy on his sovereign’s behalf, having been part of the diplomatic mission that Richard sent to Germany and then dispatched to Rouen. After that, Richard gave him some time off to visit his own estates, and he did not rejoin the king until September 28 at the border castle of Dangu, the day after Richard had made lightning attacks upon Philippe’s castles at Courcelles and Boury, taking them both by the time the sun had set.
Guillain found his king in a good mood and assumed it was due to such easy victories. But from Morgan, he learned that Richard had also gotten very welcome news from Toulouse; his sister had given birth to a healthy baby girl, named after her mother.
Guillain was pleased; Joanna was a great favorite with her brother’s knights. “It is always a happy time when a baby is born,” he said, and for a moment, he and Morgan shared the same sad thought—a heartfelt regret that Richard’s queen could not have been as blessed as Joanna. “I am sorry I could not take part in the capture of Courcelles. I missed the action at Vernon, too, so it has been too long since I’ve had a chance to clout someone. Life gets boring when it is too peaceful,” Guillain grumbled, only half in jest. But he brightened when Morgan assured him that a patrol was about to be sent out. “I volunteer! Who is leading the patrol?”
Morgan grinned. “Need you even ask?”
RICHARD WAS RIDING his new Lombardy stallion, a silver-grey destrier called Argento who was so fiery-tempered that the other men took care to keep their distance. They’d not gone far when they spotted dust clouds on the horizon. Richard dispatched Mercadier and a local knight, Sir Henri de Corni, to investigate. They were soon back with unexpected news.
“The French king has left Mantes, sire, and is marching north with a large force. I’d say about three hundred knights, as well as men-at-arms and the local levy.”
Richard was startled, for the most logical assumption was that Philippe meant to confront his army at Dangu, but the French king avoided battles the way people shrank from lepers. “I suppose he thinks he may be able to catch us by surprise.” Telling Mercadier to return to Dangu and align their men along the bank of the River Epte, he said the rest of them would track the French force. They then faded back into the woods to wait.
It was a hot afternoon; even though October was just four days away, there was no hint of autumn in the air. The road that Philippe would be following was cracked and dry, for it had not rained in weeks, and before his army came into view, they were preceded by waves of billowing yellow dust. The French banners hung limply, for there was not a breath of wind. Philippe was mounted on a dark brown gelding known to be of docile temperament, and Richard’s men snickered at the sight, for theirs was a world in which a dislike of horses was incomprehensible to most. Their foes plodded on, uncomfortable in the heat, sweating in their armor, unaware that they were being watched.