by Robert Shea
LXVII
Daoud woke to a discreet scratching on the curtains of his bed.Somewhere in the street a drum was beating, sounding farther, thennearer again, as the drummer marched up and down the streets ofBenevento, waking the fighting men quartered there.
"I am awake," he rasped.
"May God look with favor on your deeds this day, my lord," came thevoice of his orderly, Husain, through the heavy curtains.
Sophia's back was warm against his chest. His left arm, on which she hadbeen sleeping, was numb. She wriggled her shoulders and then turned overto face him. He freed his arm and rubbed his face against hers, hisbeard brushing her cheek.
She wrapped one arm around him and twined her legs around one of his.Her free hand moved down, fondling him. His hands glided over her body,trying to memorize the feel of her. She murmured with pleasure into hisear.
She opened her eyes suddenly. "Will it be bad for you to do this withme?"
"What to do you mean, bad?"
"Deprive you of strength for the battle?"
He chuckled softly. "If you made me stop now, I would be filled withsuch a rage that I would slay all of Charles's army single-handed."
Her hand stopped pleasuring him. "That would be good. Then we muststop."
"No," he said. "I would rather go into battle with a beautiful memoryand a clear head. As for my strength, God will restore it moments afterI spend it. He always has, I assure you."
"Then let us not wait." She pulled him over on top of her and acceptedhim into herself, tightening around him. A flood of breathless Greekendearments filled his ear.
He had never been with a woman who cried out as Sophia did during theact of love. Try as she might to muffle her sounds, she was certain inthe final surge to lose control. He was sure Manfred's other officersquartered in this house must hear her.
Well, let them hear her, and envy him.
She let him rest upon her, happily released, until his body withdrewitself from her.
A shadow crossed his mind.
_That may have been the last time for us._
They lay side by side. A faint light penetrated the bed curtains fromsomewhere in their room, and by that light he could see her smiling. Hesmiled back, but his body was growing tense. Fear of what he would facein the hours to come was building inside him.
The face he loved, the warmth of her body so close to his, made him wishhe need never leave this bed. His arms and legs felt heavy, rebellious.If he commanded them to move away from her, they would not.
_In truth, I would have to be mad to want to go out and butcher infidelsrather than stay here with Sophia._
But he could not stay with her. Today would decide everything. He forcedhis reluctant limbs to push him away from her. She did not try to holdhim.
Outside the heavy bed curtains, the air in the room felt cold as death.
Standing alone in the middle of the floor, he felt a sickening void ofapprehension in his belly. As Sheikh Saadi had taught him, he faced hisfear. He was terrified of death and defeat. Probably there had neverbeen a warrior anywhere in the world who had not felt this way on themorning of a battle. Probably the Prophet himself, before battle, hadfeared for himself and for those he loved.
_I cannot control today's outcome, for myself or for the men I fightbeside. But I can dedicate my mind and heart and will and limbs to God.I can fight for Him to the uttermost of my strength. Passive toward God,active toward the world._
Naked, he walked to the door leading to the balcony and pushed itpartway open. A draft of even chillier air made his skin prickle andfluttered the flame of the candle Husain had lit when he woke them. Thesky was still black and full of stars. Dawn was a long way off.
He was on the third story of this house in Benevento and could see overthe roofs of most of the surrounding houses. Men hurried through thestreets swinging lanterns. The drum was still beating a rapid tattoo inthe near distance, joined now by horses' hooves clattering on thecobblestones. Here and there a candle glowed behind shutters. Far away,probably in the main camp of Manfred's army, north of town, a trumpetcalled.
He shivered, and closed the shutter against the winter wind.
Sophia had pushed the bed curtains aside and was sitting on the edge ofthe bed with a blanket wrapped around her, watching him.
On the bedroom table, Husain had carefully laid out a pitcher and basinand Daoud's underclothes. Daoud took the tawidh by its thong and tied itaround his neck. Next he picked up the silver locket and turned thelittle screw that opened it.
The magic was still working.
But when he looked into the locket, he saw the same face that waslooking at him from across the room. A feeling of happy relief filledhim, driving out the foreboding that had darkened his mind earlier inbed with Sophia.
He was sure now that whatever connection the locket had with BlossomingReed was lost. Love had changed the image. He had been testing it eversince he arrived at Lucera, and it always showed him Sophia's face. Hecould hope that whatever spell Blossoming Reed had placed upon it, whenshe warned him, _your love will destroy both her and you_, was nowbroken. He closed the locket and set it down on the table.
He had said good-bye in his heart to Blossoming Reed sometime duringthese years in the land of the infidel. He had loved Blossoming Reed,but he had never known love in all its fullness and completion untilSophia. And, knowing that he had violated the one commandment BlossomingReed had laid upon him, and carrying her threat in the back of his mind,his love for her had withered. She was still as vivid in his mind's eyeas she had been in the locket before Sophia supplanted her. But hisfeeling for her now was one of sad renunciation. Whether or not hesurvived this war, they must be forever parted.
He filled the earthenware basin with water from the wooden pitcher andbegan a ritual washing, first his hands, then his face, then forearmsfrom wrists to elbows, then his feet up to the ankles.
"How can you stand the cold?" Sophia said.
Daoud shrugged. "I have to." He did not want to talk now. He wanted toempty his mind for prayer. He tied the drawstring of his braies. Then hepulled on red silk trousers, flaring below the knee and tight at theankles, and drew a cotton shirt over his head.
He went to the balcony again to check his directions. There was Venus.That was east, then. He took a small rolled-up carpet out of histraveling chest and laid it over the rug on the bedroom floor. Heoriented the prayer carpet toward the southeast and stood at the end ofit.
He began the salat, bringing his hands up to the sides of his head andsaying, "Allahu akbar, God is great."
He repeated his prayers, the bowing, the kneeling, the prostrations,with great care and full attention. With his forehead pressed to therug, he submitted himself and this day utterly to the will of God.
Finished, he looked over at Sophia. She was still sitting on the edge ofthe bed, watching him silently. He looked long at her, drinking her in.It weighed heavily on his heart that he had to leave her, and even moreheavily that she would be terribly frightened for him until he cameback.
As he feared for her.
_Compassionate God, Cherisher of Worlds, protect her._
He began to dress for battle.
Husain had spread out his armor and weapons on top of his travelingchest. Daoud's breastplate was made of many rectangular pieces of steellaced together with leather thongs and overlapping each other. Twolarger plates, side by side, were attached over his heart, inlaid withthe spiraling gold design that marked him a member of the halkha, thesultan's personal guard. Worked into the design were verses from theKoran. On the left plate, "He succeeds who purifies the soul," and onthe right, "And he fails who corrupts it." The breastplate was dividedat the sides, where it could be strapped together. Baibars himself,after Daoud returned to Manfred, had arranged for a bribed Genoese seacaptain to smuggle it to him. Daoud was proud of it, and the men of theSons of the Falcon would be proud to see their leader wearing it.
He pulled on a quilted tunic of embroidered
red silk, its paddingstuffed with linen. Then he dropped the breastplate over his head. Heheard a movement behind him, and then felt Sophia fastening thebreastplate at his sides.
The storehouse of Manfred's Muslim armorers offered blades of the finestHindustan steel, and from it Daoud had selected a saif for himself. Itgleamed in the candlelight as he drew it from its sheath. He examinedwith pleasure the gold inlay near the hilt. There was not a nick or ascratch anywhere on the blade. He took a heavy silk scarf from theclothing on the table and tossed it in the air. He held the blade underit, edge up. The scarf fell on the blade and then dropped to the floorin two parts.
He sheathed the sword and buckled it on. He put on his bayda, hisegg-shaped helmet, and wrapped the silk of his turban around and aroundit, and when it was properly tied, pinned it with an emerald clasp.
"Someday you must do that slowly for me, so I can learn how to wrap yourturban," said Sophia. "I would like to do that for you." A pang ofsorrow for her struck his heart as he realized she was speaking of theirfuture together to convince herself that there would be one. He wishedhe could free her from fear.
While he dressed, she had quietly been dressing, too, in a long bluegown and a fiery orange woolen mantle.
He looked down at the weapons laid out on the chest, selected a dagger,and stuck it in his belt. Next to the dagger lay the Scorpion, the tinycrossbow, assembled, with a box of finger-length darts beside it. Surelynot a weapon for a battle, he thought.
"Here." He turned to Sophia and handed her the crossbow. "I know youhave a dagger, but you can use this to protect yourself too. Sometimes Icoat the darts with a drug that makes a man unconscious, sometimes withdeadly poison. These darts are poisoned--be very careful with them. Mostpeople have never seen a weapon like this, so it will surprise them. Andyou do not have to get close to your enemy to use it."
"I do not need protection," said Sophia. "You will be out thereprotecting me."
"If you take it, it will put my mind at ease," said Daoud.
"For that reason only," said Sophia, dropping the tiny crossbow and thebox of darts into a leather bag on top of her own traveling chest.
Daoud picked up the locket. Its hammered silver outer surface glowedsoftly in the candlelight.
"Please take this too," he said. "You have seen me wear it many times.After I have left you today, open it. I believe you will see apicture--an image--of me."
She lowered her head and rested her hands on his armored chest as hehung the locket on its silver chain around her neck.
He unfolded his forest-green linen cape and draped it over himself,clasping it at his throat with a gold chain.
He took her in his arms, carefully, so as not to hurt her with the steelbreastplate, and pressed his lips against hers for a long time.
A knock at the door broke their kiss. "My lord, your horse is ready,"said Husain's voice.
At the door of the house, Ugolini and Tilia, both of them heavilycloaked against the cold night air, were waiting for them. In the lightof the single small oil lamp burning beside the doorway, they were twoshort, bulky shadows, Tilia much bulkier than Ugolini.
"We heard you moving about," said Tilia. "We came down to wish youvictory."
"What do the stars say about today?" Daoud asked Ugolini.
"Yesterday, the twenty-first of February, the sun moved from the houseof Aquarius the water-bearer to the house of Pisces, the fish." Ugolinishook his head dolefully. "The fish is the sign of Christendom."
"Adelberto, you are a poor astrologer," said Tilia heartily. "A goodastrologer would find something encouraging to say. For example: Itwould not be good for Christendom for Charles to win. The French woulddominate the Church and corrupt it. True Christianity will triumph ifManfred wins."
"Do not use the word 'if,' Madama Tilia," said Daoud with a smile.
"I know Manfred is going to win," said Ugolini. "Otherwise I would nothave followed his army all the way to Benevento. I believe he will go onto the Papal States and will persuade Pope Clement to restore me to myrightful position."
"If Pope Clement _waits_ for Manfred after Charles is defeated," saidTilia dryly.
That was Ugolini's explanation of why he had come north with Manfred'sarmy. Daoud wondered what Tilia's was. Both risked being imprisoned andprobably executed should Manfred lose and Charles capture them.
"Did you see Lorenzo leave?"
"Moments before you came down," said Tilia. "That big dog of his,Scipio, is inconsolable. I can hear him keening in the stable. I thinkAdelberto and I will take him up to our room and comfort him."
Daoud said, "It is a rare moment when Scipio is not at Lorenzo's side.And I think, too, he can sense when his master is in danger. As we allare today. It would be kind of you to care for him."
With a tremulous attempt at laughter, Sophia said, "And who will carefor me?"
Tilia laid her small hand on Sophia's arm. "We will stay with you,Sophia, if you want, until Daoud returns." She pulled Ugolini inside thedoor and it closed behind them, leaving Daoud and Sophia alone.
Sophia moved close in the lamplight outside the entrance of themerchant's house and looked up at him, her eyes large and solemn."Nothing but you matters to me. Come back to me."
Daoud still wished he could convince her that she had nothing to fear.But that was foolish. She knew all too well that there was much to fear.
"I don't want you to be frightened," he said.
"I will try not to be."
"I will come back." There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much herealized now he had not said about how he loved her as he had neverloved another woman in his life since--
Since his mother.
They were two people who had been utterly alone in the world, who hadboth lost everyone precious to them. All they truly had was each other.
_Oh, God, let me come back to her. I ask this not for my happiness, butfor hers._
"I know I will see you again." She smiled suddenly. "Can you find yourway to me?"
He looked up at the building and then at the street. Bulking largeagainst the stars was the huge square shape of an arch, which had beenbuilt over a thousand years ago, he was told, by a Roman general tocommemorate his conquest of Jerusalem.
With this talk of stars and portents, he felt it must mean somethingthat this victory arch should be here in Benevento. Were not these warsof Muslim and Christian that had shaped his destiny wars over Jerusalem?
He said, "I will ride through that arch, and you will be on the thirdfloor of the house with the carving over the door of San Giorgio slayingthe dragon."
She smiled, her teeth white in the lantern light. "That is the ArchangelMichael overcoming Satan."
"How am I to tell one Christian idol from another?"
She pushed at him. He saw the tracks of tears glistening on her cheeks.His own eyes burned.
"Go quickly now."
He turned, fearing the sight of his tears might break her heart, as hershad broken his. He set his foot in the stirrup and vaulted into thesaddle of the brown Arabian Husain was holding. He waited for Husain tomount his own horse and then started down the street. He kept his faceset toward the triumphal arch. He dared not look back.
* * * * *
In her room, Sophia went through her chest and found her icon of SaintSimon Stylites. She kept the icon hidden when Daoud was around. Hebelieved that praying to saints' images was idolatry, and she especiallydid not want him to see her praying to a saint named Simon. She knelt,clasped her hands, and prayed to the desert saint.
_Oh, holy Simon, bring him back to me. You who dwelt in the desert, youwho know what it is to be alone on your pillar, keep safe this man whocame alone out of the desert. Protect him from the swords and spears andarrows of his enemies. He is not of our faith, I know, but I love himso, and is not Love another name for God?_
She pressed both hands flat against her belly and doubled over, weeping.
* * * *
*
Daoud had just ridden through the northern gate of the town when heheard his name called from above. He saw a pale blond head, gleaming inthe first rays of sunrise, looking down at him through the battlementsof a square gate tower.
"Up here, Daoud, come up!" Manfred's voice.
"This is the best vantage point we could ask for," Manfred said whenDaoud arrived on the tower platform. "Unless we were to climb thosemountains over there."
Lorenzo was on the tower roof with Manfred, and Landgrave Barth, and sixor so of Manfred's blond young noblemen, all in splendid cloaks ofpeacock blue, sunset orange, and blood-red. They wore glossy silksurcoats over mail that covered them from chin to fingertips. Manfredwas in mail, covered by a knee-length yellow and black surcoat. He heldhis bronzed helmet, decorated with three nodding ostrich plumes dyedemerald green, tucked under his arm.
"Have they come?" Daoud asked.
Manfred nodded, his face sterner than Daoud had ever seen it. "Anjou isin the valley."
Daoud looked out from the tower. Like a field of wildflowers, hundredsof their own multicolored tents, each one tall and pointed at the top,spread out over the rolling brown landscape just beyond the town wall.In front of the tents the divisions of Manfred's army were forming up insquares. The faint notes of a military band came to Daoud's ear. It wasEuropean music, which sounded jagged, harsh, and disconnected to him.
He saw the Sons of the Falcon now, over on the left, their rowsstraight, sitting quietly on their horses, moving little. They all worered turbans wrapped around their helmets; he had insisted that theydress alike so as to be easily recognizable. They, too, had their band,a dozen men who played kettledrums, trumpets, hautboys, and cymbals fromhorseback. The band was silent now, but would play when the Sons of theFalcon rode into battle.
"Long ago the Romans called this town Maleventum, bad wind," saidManfred beside him, "because they believed that the winds from the northbrought pestilence down from the swamps around Rome."
Just the sort of thing Manfred would know, Daoud thought.
"Even though the people who live here chose a more attractive name,"Manfred went on, "we see that the ancients were not wrong. Look whatplague the wind has blown down from Rome today."
Daoud's eyes followed Manfred's pointing arm to the narrow north end ofthe long valley in which Benevento lay. The road from Rome entered thevalley at the north end and ran through it to the gate above which theywere standing. Rows of tents filled the northern opening of the valley,and the tiny figures of horsemen and foot soldiers were forming darklines across the light brown fields.
Last night peasants from that end of the valley had come flocking intoBenevento with cartloads of possessions and stored crops. Even thoughthey were supposedly supporters of the papal cause, the people who livedaround Benevento felt safer under Manfred's protection.
But this valley was a stone coffin, Daoud thought. Hills on either side,squeezing together at the top of the valley, the town lying across thebottom end. In this box, how could he use the Sons of the Falcon well?He pummeled his brain.
One thing he could at least achieve. He remembered Nuwaihi's report thatthe Tartars were with Charles's army. He turned to Lorenzo.
"It falls to you to finish the Tartars. Make your way into Charles'scamp while the battle is on."
Lorenzo's mouth turned down under his thick mustache. "It will taketime. I can take a wagon and go around through the hills and pretend tobe a peasant offering to sell wine and food to Anjou's people."
"Take some men with you."
Lorenzo shook his head. "That would arouse suspicion. If I go alone,whoever is guarding Charles's camp will see no reason to fear me."
"I went alone into the Palazzo Monaldeschi to kill them, and I could notdo it."
"And I, with my poor Sicilian skills, cannot be expected to succeedwhere Daoud ibn Abdallah, who was trained by the Old Man of the Mountainhimself, failed. Is that what you are thinking?"
Daoud smiled ruefully. "Well--"
Lorenzo frowned at him ferociously. "You have given me the task. Let mecarry it out as best I can."
Daoud gripped his arm, feeling muscle like oak. "Go with God, mybrother."
"May your Allah bless your struggle today, Daoud." One last, long lookfrom the dark brown eyes, and Lorenzo turned away.
Again, as he had with Sophia, Daoud felt anguish that he had not toldLorenzo enough of his gratitude, his respect, his love.
_And if Lorenzo dies an unbeliever, I will not meet him in paradise._
Manfred was standing at the battlements, staring north at his enemies,looking, it seemed to Daoud, more sad than angry.
"Sire," Daoud said, "I know what you plan for today's battle. But I begthe favor of one change. Let the Sons of the Falcon be the first of yourwarriors to strike at your enemies."
Manfred turned toward Daoud, and as he did the melancholy vanished fromhis face. He looked cheerful and spoke briskly.
"Let us review the plan. My heaviest cavalry, the Swabian knights, willhit them first. The Swabians will try to break the enemy and drive themback up the field. Our foot archers will form up before Benevento andprotect it from any Frenchmen who might evade our cavalry charge.Daoud's Sons of the Falcon will ride in column up the west side of thevalley, turn, cut the French knights off from _their_ foot soldiers, andattack them from the rear."
Erhard Barth nodded. "Excellent, Sire. But, if I may, Herr Daoud has agood suggestion. We have seen the skill of his archers and lancers. Letthem lead the way, forming a screen for us. Let them fill the air witharrows. The French will falter. Then the Sons of the Falcon will moveout of the way." He spread his big, square hands apart to show how theSons of the Falcon would part to left and right. "And we will hit themwith a wedge."
A better plan, Daoud thought. He had underestimated Barth. And perhapsthe king he served.
Manfred nodded. "Go to your men, Daoud. You will have my ordersshortly."
Looking into the faces of the two hundred men he had picked and trainedover the past year, Daoud felt a great weight on his chest. He couldeven read the expressions of some in the front. Mujtaba, earnest. Ahmad,fierce. Omar, determined. Nuwaihi, who had first sighted Charles's army,eager. It was frightful enough to face one's own death in battle, but toknow that he was leading to their deaths men he knew and loved--theburden was great. These men were like his children, and they wouldfollow him to destruction, and he wished before God that he did not haveto think about that.
Gathered in a semicircle, the Sons of the Falcon listened silently asDaoud spoke to them from horseback. He made his voice big, so that itechoed from the walls of Benevento, behind his men.
"You are fighting not only to help King Manfred keep his throne," Daoudshouted. "Not only to protect the kingdom of Sicily from conquest bythese greedy foreigners."
That was ironic, in a way, because, to be sure, the Hohenstaufens werenot native Sicilians. Nor were these Muslims. But both they and theHohenstaufens had lived in Sicily for generations, and surely that gavethem more right to rule here than the French.
"You are fighting for Islam!" he cried. Their wild cheering rang in hisears.
"You are fighting that you and your families may profess the faith andlive by the faith. This right, your wise rulers of the house ofHohenstaufen have granted you. But if Charles d'Anjou rules this land,your mosques will be turned into churches, your mullahs will be hanged,your Korans will be burned, and your children's children will never hearthe sweet words of the Prophet, may God commend and salute him. Theywill be raised as Christians and will never know they were anythingelse. For us this war is jihad! Holy war!"
The waves of their cheering swept over him, and their scimitars flashedin the rising sun. He had told them the truth, but there was an evengreater truth he had not told them. They were fighting, not just forIslam in Sicily, but for Islam everywhere. If Manfred won this battle,it would end, for this generation at least, the threat of Christians andTartars uniting to destroy Islam. But how to
explain that in these fewremaining moments? Enough that they knew that they were fighting for thefaith in their own land.
Seeing their eagerness, he felt proud of them, and proud of himself. Theweight of sadness he had felt when he first faced them was lifted, andhis heart beat strong within him.
The cheering faded quickly, replaced by a murmuring. Men were pointingpast him. A faint rumbling came to his ears.
At the north end of the valley a long line of horsemen was movingforward, bright banners fluttering above them, and creamy clouds of dustbillowing up behind them.
Barth rode up to him, his eyes bright, his thick lower lip curvingupward in a smile. "King Manfred has agreed to let you attack first. TheSwabian knights are now ready. We will be behind you. Slow their charge,and then we will smash them." He struck a mailed fist into a mailedpalm.
Exultation bubbled up within Daoud like a desert spring. Dizzy with joy,he thought Baibars must have felt like this when he alone led theMamelukes against the Tartars at the Well of Goliath.
A certainty that the battle was as good as won spread through him.
"If we leave you any Frenchmen to smash," he said to Barth, who laughed,saluted, and rode away.
_Have a care_, he warned himself. _What happens today will be as Godwants. I want only whatever God wants._
He jerked on the reins of his brown Arabian to turn toward the Frenchcharge. They were still far away. The valley was long. He called Omarand Husain to him.
"Bows and arrows. Spread out in a line. When we are formed up, advanceat a trot on my signal."
He unstrapped his bow from his saddle and slung it over his shoulder andacross his chest.
The five flag men lined up behind Daoud. On their right rode a naqeebholding high the green banner of the Sons of the Falcon, inscribed indazzling white lettering with a verse from the Koran: HAVE THEY NOTSEEN THE BIRDS OBEDIENT IN MIDAIR? NONE UPHOLDETH THEM SAVE GOD.
Omar rode down the line relaying Daoud's orders to the officers and flagmen. When all was ready, Daoud raised his hand and brought it down. Asingle line of two hundred horsemen, they moved out at a trot. While hismen could fire arrows from a galloping horse, the slower the horse wasmoving, the more accurate the shooting.
He could see what was coming at him much more clearly now. The middleand rear ranks of the crusaders were obscured by dust, but in the frontranks a hundred or more helmeted heads bent over the armored brows oftheir huge horses. The long poles of their steel-tipped lances pointedat him.
To be hit by one of those knights galloping at that speed, with all thatweight of steel and horseflesh, would be like being hit by a boulderfrom a stone caster. If the Franks got much closer, there would be nostopping them.
Daoud unslung his bow. From the corner of his eye he saw the flag men,whose duty it was to watch his moves and signals, lift five red pennantshigh. He did not need to look to know that the Sons of the Falcon hadall dropped their horses' reins, guiding their horses with their knees,and were drawing their bows.
His bow, like those his men carried, was double-curved, made of multiplelayers of horn and hardwood. His arrow had a thick steel tip that couldpunch through mail armor like a spike driven by a hammer. He took aim ata big Frank in the middle of the line. The intersection of the limbs ofthe red cross on the Frank's white surcoat made a perfect spot to aimat. Between two beats of his Arabian's hooves, he loosed his arrow.
The flight of Daoud's arrow was the signal for the red flags to go down.Two hundred arrows whistled across the rapidly narrowing gap betweencrusaders and Sons of the Falcon.
Daoud saw the man he had fired at throw his arms wide. His lance droppedas he leaned sideways from his saddle. He crashed to the ground anddisappeared under the hooves of the horses behind his. His lance fellacross the paths of the oncoming crusaders and another of the big warhorses tripped over it, dumping its rider.
All along the crusaders' front, knights were spilling from theirsaddles, horses were falling, lances were flying.
_Over a hundred years they have fought us, and they have never learnedto use the bow from the saddle._
Many riders in the crusaders' front rank were still galloping towardthem. And more in the rear ranks were dodging or leaping the fallenknights and horses. Daoud whipped a second arrow from the quiver hangingat his side, nocked it, and took quick aim.
His arrow went true again. He saw the targeted man fall. And the Sons ofthe Falcon were pouring volleys of arrows into the Franks. Every thirdcrusader, in the front ranks at least, must be a dead man.
Daoud heard himself yelling in triumph. If they broke this first Frenchcharge, the rest of Manfred's army could sweep the field clear of theenemy.
The charge was slowing down, but it was still coming on.
"Split ranks! Pass them on either side!" Daoud called to Omar, whorelayed the order to the flag men.
Daoud heard a sound like an earthquake behind him and looked around. Theelite of the German knights, Manfred's Swabians, were galloping on in anarrowhead formation. If the French knights and their horses were big,the Swabians looked even bigger. He saw the nodding green plumes ofManfred's helmet at the very point of the wedge. The surcoats of knightsand horses were ablaze with red and blue, orange and yellow.
Beyond Manfred's knights Daoud saw lines of crossbowmen formed up beforethe walls of Benevento. Sophia was there in that little town. He wantedto keep himself between Sophia and the French.
But Omar had relayed his order to the flag men and the yellow and greenflags had gone up, and, disciplined as any of his men, he rode off tothe left, turning the side of his Arabian toward the onrushingcrusaders.
When he reached the right flank of Charles's knights, he turned again sothat he was riding past them. He fired arrow after arrow as he went, asfast as he could and still hit his mark.
He saw a tall figure in a red surcoat with a red helmet shaped like abishop's miter. Almost certainly de Verceuil. The cardinal brandished aclub with an iron ball at the end of it. Daoud loosed an arrow at him,but de Verceuil lifted a red shield bearing a painted gold cross thatcaught the arrow and sent it spinning away.
_I wonder if he recognizes me._
Looking north, Daoud saw Anjou's foot soldiers with spears and crossbowsadvancing at a run, but they were far behind the last of the Frankishriders. Charles must have thrown all his knights--eight hundred of them,Manfred had said--into this first charge. He, like Manfred, must havehoped to end the battle--even the war--with a single charge.
Farther to the north, beyond the foot soldiers, a dozen or so horsemenin yellow and purple cloaks gathered under a red banner bearing a blackfigure. It was too far away for Daoud to see clearly, but he knew that ablack lion on a red background was the standard of Charles d'Anjou.
Now Daoud and his left half of the Sons of the Falcon were beyond theFrench knights. He ordered the flag signals that would turn his wing toride back the way they had come.
Dozens of Franks had died under their arrows. The charge had slowed,with confusion on the front and confusion on the sides. Daoud feltripples of triumph course through his body. They had done the very thingManfred said no Saracen cavalry could do.
_We stopped the charge of the Frankish knights._
But looking toward Benevento, Daoud felt triumph turn to dismay. Theflying wedge of Manfred's knights had pushed itself deep into the Frenchline, but then had come to a stop. Even though the Sons of the Falconhad hurt them and halted them, the French had held their formation. Theyhad not broken under the Swabian attack.
Daoud groaned in anguish. Both sides had stopped in their tracks, andwhere they faced each other their formations had crumbled into a hundredindividual combats.
This was just what Daoud had feared and warned against. Endlessbutchery, futile bloodletting, a battle that would go as badly for thewinner as for the loser.
_There must be another way_, Daoud thought desperately. _There must be aMameluke way to win this._