iron ball at the end of it. Daoud loosed an arrow at him,
but de Verceuil lifted a red shield bearing a painted gold cross that
caught the arrow and sent it spinning away.

_I wonder if he recognizes me._

Looking north, Daoud saw Anjou's foot soldiers with spears and crossbows
advancing at a run, but they were far behind the last of the Frankish
riders. Charles must have thrown all his knights--eight hundred of them,
Manfred had said--into this first charge. He, like Manfred, must have
hoped to end the battle--even the war--with a single charge.

Farther to the north, beyond the foot soldiers, a dozen or so horsemen
in yellow and purple cloaks gathered under a red banner bearing a black
figure. It was too far away for Daoud to see clearly, but he knew that a
black lion on a red background was the standard of Charles d'Anjou.

Now Daoud and his left half of the Sons of the Falcon were beyond the
French knights. He ordered the flag signals that would turn his wing to
ride back the way they had come.

Dozens of Franks had died under their arrows. The charge had slowed,
with confusion on the front and confusion on the sides. Daoud felt
ripples of triumph course through his body. They had done the very thing
Manfred said no Saracen cavalry could do.

_We stopped the charge of the Frankish knights._

But looking toward Benevento, Daoud felt triumph turn to dismay. The
flying wedge of Manfred's knights had pushed itself deep into the French
line, but then had come to a stop. Even though the Sons of the Falcon
had hurt them and halted them, the French had held their formation. They
had not broken under the Swabian attack.

Daoud groaned in anguish. Both sides had stopped in their tracks, and
where they faced each other their formations had crumbled into a hundred
individual combats.

This was just what Daoud had feared and warned against. Endless
butchery, futile bloodletting, a battle that would go as badly for the
winner as for the loser.

_There must be another way_, Daoud thought desperately. _There must be a
Mameluke way to win this._

LXVIII

Thierry reined his horse to a stop and doffed his helmet in salute to
Simon. From the wild look in the young knight's eye Simon sensed at once
that he had seen something extraordinary.

"What is it, Messire?" he demanded. "Did you see Manfred's army?"
Papillon, the brown and white mare Simon used as a palfrey, stood still
while Simon patted her neck.

"Man