The Battle

Hello, my dears, back with a new installment in the Knight's story. This one is, as you can tell, prior to the one written almost a year ago (cut me some slack, I need inspiration to do this).
I am still undecided about the title of this part of the story. Although the working title is "The Battle", it tells far more than just that. anyway, enjoy, and tell me what title to put.

The Battle/The News

‘My sweet, the time to talk is done!’
He said, as her warning he spurned.
‘There’s a battle to be won!
The horns have sounded, the scouts returned.

The horse's been saddled and the hour’s come.’
As he left, she sat distraught.
Was he really marching to the sound of drums,
Without sparing her a thought?
………
Arriving at the Valley of Myth,
He set his sights on the barren fields,
Soon to be filled with
Bloodied swords and shattered shields.

As dawn was breaking,
On the horizon arose a forest of pikes.
He was focused, yet his heart was aching;
It wasn’t in his sword, swing or strike.

The battle grew more gruesome, and
His blood started to flow.
The blows he could withstand,
But the little red crystal started to glow…

General Gerald the Gray
Raised his hand and gave the sign.
As he turned around and fled the fray,
His pawns carried out the king’s design.

A crossbow bolt struck the knight’s back…
His sword fell from his grip…
His vision faded to black…
Her name parted from his lips…
…………
The General’s army returned victorious.
With a sneer, his king’s throne he approached.
‘My king, this day is glorious.’
‘And our plot?’ ‘Carried out beyond reproach.’

‘Very good, very good indeed!’ said the king, pleased.
‘Let the princess know. However, handle it with care.
Her spirit won’t break with ease.
And I don’t want to flaw a jewel so rare.’
…………
However, little did they know
The jester was ‘round the corner, listening in.
To his mistress he ran. ‘Bring I news of woe!
Alas, not I see where to begin…

My princess, in the woods is your heart’s sweet.
Probably dead, most likely dying.
By your father’s schemes, tasted his sword defeat.
Your ears do trust, not do I jest, nor I am lying.’

‘Be it so?’ she asked with her mouth agape.
In her room, by the pale moonlight,
She donned a pitch black cape,
To be hidden in the dead of the night.
…………
Moments later, the dark steed
Darted through the castle gates
And passed the guards at speed,
Its black-clad rider uttering: ‘Let it be not too late!’