uld live through the
battle and be victorious.

He had seen the Sons of the Falcon attack earlier today and check the
first French charge with their volleys of arrows. Now they seemed to be
riding to attack again. What was their objective?

A flash of light above the battle caught his eye. Sunlight reflected on
metal. He looked across at the bare gray rocks that topped the high
ridge on the other side of the valley. He could see beyond the rocks the
tips of a pine forest. Again the flash of light.

Helmets.

Ten or more conical helmets appeared between the forest and the rocks.
Men were crawling over the top of the ridge. The lower slopes of the
ridge, on the valley side, were heavily forested. Those men would be
quite hidden from anyone looking up from the valley.

Who were they? And how many? The hills over there could conceal
hundreds. They could be some of Manfred's troops, sent up there to make
a surprise flank attack. But Manfred had rejected just such a plan.

He remembered now a conversation between Daoud and Manfred at dawn. Not
all of Charles's allies had yet arrived. The Gobignon banner, for
instance, had not been seen with Charles's army.

That could be a whole fresh army of Frenchmen up there on that ridge,
about to fall like an avalanche on Manfred's forces.

And Daoud's Sons of the Falcon were rapidly advancing up the valley.

Lorenzo felt himself trembling. He wanted to scream a warning.

_I have to reach Daoud._

He jerked the horse to a stop and called to Rachel and Friar Mathieu.

"I have to leave you."

"Lorenzo!" Rachel's eyes were huge with terror.

He took her hands. "Listen. I love you like my own daughter. But I have
just seen something--I have to warn them. Daoud--David--will be killed."

"David of Trebizond?" said Friar Mathieu. "You called him Daoud?" The
old priest's eyes were alight with sudden understanding.

"Never mind." Lorenzo heard his own voice rising in panic. He took a
deep breath to steady himself, then plunged back into the cart and
seized the saddle he had tucked away in the back. He jumped down from
the cart, unhitched the gelding, and threw the saddle over its back.

"Oh, my God, Lorenzo!" Rachel screamed. "Take me with you. Don't leave
me here."

"I will be back for you," he said as he fought to get saddle and bridle
on the horse. "I swear it. I have no time to talk. I have to do this."
Wanting something more than a dagger to defend himself with, he grabb