fred's _and_ Count Charles's," Thierry panted. "Both armies. They're
already fighting, Monseigneur!"

"Merciful God!" A battle meant _the_ battle. One battle must surely
decide this war. Manfred would have brought together all the fighting
men of southern Italy and Sicily. And Simon knew, from the series of
urgent messages he had received from Charles on the road, that the count
had left Rome with every man he could muster, and that there was no more
help on its way to him.

_Except for this army._

Simon glanced up at the sun. Halfway up the eastern sky. Some big
clouds, but it was going to remain a clear, cold day. If the battle had
started at dawn, it could be over by midday.

"Pass the word to advance at a trot," he told de Puys. "Foot soldiers to
proceed by forced march."

Antoine de la Durie spoke up. "Monseigneur, should we not call a halt
and rest and plan? We cannot plunge blindly into the midst of a battle."

"We will have to plan as we ride, Messire," Simon said brusquely. "King
Charles is outnumbered, and needs us _now_."

He felt a small inner glow. He was getting to be quite practiced at
putting older men of lower rank in their place--the sort who formerly
intimidated him.

He turned to Valery de Pirenne. "Tell Friar Volpe to join me here. And
you, Thierry, come with me. You can tell the friar what you saw."

Simon pulled Papillon's head over, jumped the narrow ditch along the
side of the road, and took up a position on a rocky hummock, Thierry
beside him. Looking over the long column of his army never failed to
make his heart beat faster. A dozen banners in front, led by the red and
white crusader flag and the purple and gold of Gobignon. Mounted knights
two or three abreast followed by files of foot soldiers and baggage
trains and strings of chargers and spare horses. The mounted rear guard
so far back it was usually out of sight.

He could see the rear guard because the army was traveling along winding
mountain roads, as it had been the day before and the day before that.
They were crossing the center of the Italian peninsula. They had been
through the highest of the Apennines yesterday and were now descending
the western slopes.

A chill anxiety enveloped his body. To have come all this way only to be
too late--what a calamity that would be! He could not allow it.

Friar Volpe came galloping up on the back of his big mule. How wise of
Charles to have sent this friar to meet Simon at Raven