amed a golden
coronet! Richard!

And the great king, in spite of his prowess was outnumbered heavily and
would, within seconds, be cut down by the Saracen horde!

Without hesitation, Sir Robert plunged his horse toward the surrounded
monarch, his great blade cutting a path before him.

He saw Richard go down, falling from the saddle of his charger, but by
that time his own sword was cutting into the screaming Saracens and
they had no time to attempt any further mischief to the King. They had
their hands full with Sir Robert de Bouain.

He did not know how long he fought there, holding his charger motionless
over the inert body of the fallen king, hewing down the screaming enemy,
but presently he heard the familiar cry of "For St. George and for
England" behind him. The Norman and English troops were charging in,
bringing with them the banner of England!

And then Richard was on his feet, cleaving the air about him with his
own broadsword. Its bright edge, besmeared with Saracen blood, was
biting viciously into the foe.

The Turks began to fall back. Within seconds, the Christian knights were
boiling around the embattled pair, forcing the Turks into retreat. And
for the second time, Sir Robert found himself with no one to fight.

And then a voice was saying: "You have done well this day, sir knight.
Richard Plantagenet will not forget."

Sir Robert turned in his saddle to face the smiling king.

"My lord king, be assured that I would never forget my loyalty to my
sovereign and liege lord. My sword and my life are yours whenever you
call."

King Richard's gauntleted hand grasped his own. "If it please God, I
shall never ask your life. An earldom awaits you when we return to
England, sir knight."

And then the king mounted his horse and was running full gallop after
the retreating Saracens.

* * * * *

Robert took off his helmet.

He blinked for a second to adjust his eyes to the relative dimness of
the studio. After the brightness of the desert that the televicarion
helmet had projected into his eyes, the studio seemed strangely
cavelike.

"How'd you like it, Bob?" asked one of the two producers of the show.

Robert Bowen nodded briskly and patted the televike helmet. "It was
O.K.," he said. "Good show. A little talky at the beginning, and it
needs a better fade-out, but the action scenes were fine. The sponsor
ought to like it--for a while, at least."

"What do you me