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“But in battle, Hook, it’s blood and anger and savagery and killing. God hides His face in battle.”
Because the man being dragged to the tree where the king and his entourage waited was his brother Michael.
Framed by the rivals.
The English heralds, resplendent in their liveries and holding their long white wands, had ridden halfway to the enemy’s line where they had been met by French and Burgundian heralds and now they all made a bright group that sat on their horses at the edge of the trees beside a tumbledown hovel with a mossy roof. They would observe the battle together and at its end they would decree the winner.
