Several had done the same, although Brébeuf lost his head in the exchange for downing a horse. They were down to eight men holding the line.
Marc regained his footing, taking in a measure of where he was. Smoke saturated the air, it was so thick that he could barely see beyond fifty paces. He was surrounded by the sound of galloping horses, but their numbers were lost in the chaos.
After the initial encounter, the cavalry had been cut in half, pushing left and right of his men over the crest. The heavy smoke played in their favour, sending several riders and horses hurtling into Frisian horses, followed by a ditch reinforced with wooden spikes.
It took everything he had to maintain composure as horse and rider were impaled. The sickening sounds even caused his stomach to do somersaults. He swallowed down the bile, just as El Comandante got back on his feet.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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