pt in the Kurd's voice. Baibars
must have heard it, too; Daoud saw his lord's cheeks darken slightly.

Looking into the sultan's set face, Daoud realized that Qutuz, despite
his apparent disdain, had already given up the battle. His lips, almost
hidden in his oiled black beard, were pressed tight, in an effort to
keep them from trembling.

The Mamelukes might outnumber the Tartars today, but the Tartars had
never been defeated anywhere in the world. The sultan must have led the
army to what he saw as certain death, for himself and all of them, only
because he knew his Mameluke emirs would depose and kill him if he did
not.

_How can a Mameluke fear death, or even defeat? Qutuz has been sultan
too long._

"With the help of God, my brothers," said Qutuz, his voice hollow, "let
us ride forth and slay them. I will command the center, Kalawun the left
wing, and Baibars the right. When you see my green banner dip, we will
advance to surround and destroy them."

_He does not believe that God will help him_, thought Daoud. _And he
does not believe he can help himself._

Riding over the dusty field to rejoin the men under his command, Daoud
yearned for the fighting to begin. His body felt tight, as if it were
being pressed inward from all directions, and his heart seemed to swell
in his chest, trying to break out of the pressure.

_If I must die today, let me first do a great deed for God!_

By the time the oncoming Tartars were clearly visible, Daoud was back
with the right wing of the Mameluke army, at the head of his own troop.
The Tartars came on at an unhurried trot, spread out in a series of long
ranks, one behind the other, and he could see their fur-trimmed helmets,
their waving lances, their colored signal flags. He could hear their
shrill war cries and the braying of their horns. Above their front rank
flew their savage standard, rows of long black tails of animals waving
from crossbars mounted on a tall pole.

Drawn up across the plain behind Baibars's yellow banner were dark
ranks of Mameluke heavy cavalrymen armed with tall spears and wearing
steel chain mail and helmets.

Daoud saw Qutuz's green flag, small and far to the west, dip, heard
Baibars's cry, relayed the shout to his men.

In a moment the parched earth of the plain of the Well of Goliath was
trembling under the hooves of fifteen thousand Mameluke horses. The
kettledrums of Baibars's tablkhana, his camel-mounted band, thundered,
and the trum