om the north, and their scarlet cloaks fluttered behind
them. The bearded faces in the front rank were grave, but there was no
fear. There was no murmuring now, no questioning. Their mounts, brown,
white, and black, the finest steeds in al-Islam, stood with necks
stretched and ears laid back, eager for the charge.

An orange pennant beside Baibars's standard summoned the commanders to
confer with their leader.

"I go to the emir for orders," Daoud said loudly, so they would not
think he was fleeing the field.

By the time he reached Baibars, a half circle of five emirs and ten
bashis had formed around their commander. Daoud could hear Baibars
muttering to himself in his boyhood Kipchaq tongue. Curses, no doubt.

Far to the north Daoud saw horsemen riding westward, away from the
battlefield. The left wing, under Kalawun. The Tartars had come nowhere
near them. They must have given way to fear when they saw the center
fall back.

Daoud saw no fear in Baibars's brown face. His wide mouth with its thin
lips was formed in a half smile. The expression around his eyes, the
blue one that saw so deeply and the opaque white, was calm and
confident. He pulled on his reins to turn his half-blood so that his
back was to the field of battle.

"Most of our army has fled." His voice was deep and so full of
confidence Daoud almost thought he heard laughter in it. "The Tartars
think they have won. Now, therefore, let us ride against them."

The commanders looked at one another in wonderment.

Buoyed up by Baibars's calm strength, Daoud felt himself despising the
officers under his and Baibars's command.

_They think Baibars is mad. To the devil with them. Even if he is mad, I
will follow him and die with him._

The thought occurred to him that if Baibars should fall--God
forbid!--then he would have to lead these fifteen thousand men. For a
moment he was seized by fear, whether of his lord's death or of having
to lead alone, he was not sure.

Baibars saw the disbelief of his officers. "You do not deserve to ride
with me," he said, and now there was scorn in his tone. "Have you not
always risked death in battle? Can the Tartars do more to you than kill
you? I tell you, if we are defeated, better to die here than live as
fugitives. Now go to your troops. In a moment you will see my standard
move against them. Do as you will, follow or run away as you choose, and
God will reward you accordingly. If I must, I will ride alone."