valrymen as the horses changed pace to a thundering gallop.

The Egyptians tried to dodge, as they saw, too late, the approach of the
Christian knights.

Sir Robert felt the shock against himself and his horse as the steel tip
of the long ash lance struck the Saracen horseman in the chest. Out of
the corner of his eye, he saw that Sir Gaeton, too, had scored.

The Saracen, impaled on Sir Robert's lance, shot from the saddle as he
died. His lighter armor had hardly impeded the incoming spear-point, and
now his body dragged it down as he dropped toward the desert sand.
Another Moslem cavalryman was charging in now, swinging his curved
saber, taking advantage of Sir Robert's sagging lance.

There was nothing else to do but drop the lance and draw his heavy
broadsword. His hand grasped it, and it came singing from its scabbard.

The Egyptian's curved sword clanged against Sir Robert's helm, setting
his head ringing. In return, the knight's broadsword came about in a
sweeping arc, and the Egyptian's horse rode on with the rider's headless
body.

Behind him, Sir Robert heard further cries of "St. George and England!"

The Hospitallers, taking heart at the charge, were going in! Behind them
came the Count of Champagne, the Earl of Leister, and the Bishop of
Beauvais, who carried a great warhammer in order that he might not break
Church Law by shedding blood.

Sir Robert's own sword rose and fell, cutting and hacking at the enemy.
He himself felt a dreamlike detachment, as though he were watching the
battle rather than participating in it.

But he could see that the Moslems were falling back before the Christian
onslaught.

And then, quite suddenly, there seemed to be no foeman to swing at.
Breathing heavily, Sir Robert sheathed his broadsword.

Beside him, Sir Gaeton did the same, saying: "It will be a few minutes
before they can regroup, sir knight. We may have routed them
completely."

"Aye. But King Richard will not approve of my breaking ranks and
disobeying orders. I may win the battle and lose my head in the end."

"This is no time to worry about the future," said the Gascon. "Rest for
a moment and relax, that you may be the stronger later. Here--have an
_Old Kings_."

He had a pack of cigarettes in his gauntleted hand, which he profferred
to Sir Robert. There were three cigarettes protruding from it, one
slightly farther than the others. Sir Robert's hand reached out and took
that one.

"Thanks. When