The hoofs of their horses thundered below them. Weapons beat against armor in the familiar rhythm of gallop. Speed was the only hope of escape. The king had sought to prove his manhood by leading the raid. It was a trap, and now the only way to safety lay at the other end of the plain. If they could reach it in time.

A gap had opened up between themselves and their pursuers. Now there was a chance. Culotte watched, horrified, as the kings horse stumbled and fell, throwing the king to the ground. He reined in and turned his horse back to the heaped form of the king. He dismounted and rushed to his side.

“Merde, my arm,” said the king as Culotte knelt by him. His arm flopping at mid forearm.

“Your Majesty, take my horse. Go quickly for they’ll be here in moments.”

The king placed a hand on the mans shoulder. “For this, you are knighted, Chevalier Culotte.”

In a moment he was off. Culotte drew his bow. Made ready to slow the pursuers. He would show them how dangerous it is to have Sir Pants on a plain.