d said, "I know what you plan for today's battle. But I beg
the favor of one change. Let the Sons of the Falcon be the first of your
warriors to strike at your enemies."

Manfred turned toward Daoud, and as he did the melancholy vanished from
his face. He looked cheerful and spoke briskly.

"Let us review the plan. My heaviest cavalry, the Swabian knights, will
hit them first. The Swabians will try to break the enemy and drive them
back up the field. Our foot archers will form up before Benevento and
protect 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 the
valley, turn, cut the French knights off from _their_ foot soldiers, and
attack them from the rear."

Erhard Barth nodded. "Excellent, Sire. But, if I may, Herr Daoud has a
good suggestion. We have seen the skill of his archers and lancers. Let
them lead the way, forming a screen for us. Let them fill the air with
arrows. The French will falter. Then the Sons of the Falcon will move
out of the way." He spread his big, square hands apart to show how the
Sons of the Falcon would part to left and right. "And we will hit them
with a wedge."

A better plan, Daoud thought. He had underestimated Barth. And perhaps
the king he served.

Manfred nodded. "Go to your men, Daoud. You will have my orders
shortly."

Looking into the faces of the two hundred men he had picked and trained
over the past year, Daoud felt a great weight on his chest. He could
even 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 to
know that he was leading to their deaths men he knew and loved--the
burden was great. These men were like his children, and they would
follow him to destruction, and he wished before God that he did not have
to think about that.

Gathered in a semicircle, the Sons of the Falcon listened silently as
Daoud spoke to them from horseback. He made his voice big, so that it
echoed from the walls of Benevento, behind his men.

"You are fighting not only to help King Manfred keep his throne," Daoud
shouted. "Not only to protect the kingdom of Sicily from conquest by
these greedy foreigners."

That was ironic, in a way, because, to be sure, the Hohenstaufens were
not native Sicilians. Nor were these Muslims. But both they and the
Hohenst