He could say he didn't realize how much he missed the thrill of a battle, but that would be a lie. A part of him is constantly missing it, is always aware that whatever else he is doing, he is not fully himself, he is not truly of use, until he has a sword in his hand, armor on his back, and an enemy before him. This is what he was born and bred for.
The battle is close and chaotic and within minutes the field is little more than a pit of mud. Men are pressed together with hardly room to swing their sword, but there is nothing at all that can stop or slow him. The din of the battle grows loud enough he can shout Esperance! as he used to, and even if Englishmen hear it, let them think some distant Percy cousin fights.
He is among the last to return to the camp as the trumpets sound and the day is won. The king, he sees, is in conference with his lords and the French herald. He hangs back, far enough to risk taking off his helmet.
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He could say he didn't realize how much he missed the thrill of a battle, but that would be a lie. A part of him is constantly missing it, is always aware that whatever else he is doing, he is not fully himself, he is not truly of use, until he has a sword in his hand, armor on his back, and an enemy before him. This is what he was born and bred for.
The battle is close and chaotic and within minutes the field is little more than a pit of mud. Men are pressed together with hardly room to swing their sword, but there is nothing at all that can stop or slow him. The din of the battle grows loud enough he can shout Esperance! as he used to, and even if Englishmen hear it, let them think some distant Percy cousin fights.
He is among the last to return to the camp as the trumpets sound and the day is won. The king, he sees, is in conference with his lords and the French herald. He hangs back, far enough to risk taking off his helmet.