ack
beard.

"Ahmad! Make way for me."

"My Lord. I thought you were dead." Ahmad nudged his horse to one side,
enough to let Daoud through, and then with his lance drove back the
French knight who tried to follow him.

Past Ahmad, Daoud looked about and saw that Manfred's surviving warriors
had formed a large, irregular ring, facing an ever-increasing press of
crusaders. More of Manfred's followers were crowded inside the circle.
He saw some men move out and join those fighting the French while others
fell back and took a brief respite. Many dead men lay on the ground, and
many wounded who were too badly hurt to stand. The wounded who remained
on their feet were still fighting.

Daoud saw with a pang of sorrow that there among the dead lay Erhard
Barth, the landgrave. At least Manfred's marshal had died fighting for
his master and would not have to live with the memory of defeat.

The trampled brown earth within this ring was all that was left of the
Hohenstaufen kingdom. Daoud's anger was deep and weary, at himself for
failing and at the fate that had destroyed his hopes today. This
morning, he thought, he had imagined himself feeling like Baibars at the
Well of Goliath. Now he knew how Ket Bogha must have felt.

_Why does God test us so heavily?_

He looked for the green-plumed helmet he had seen from a distance,
telling him Manfred was here. There it was, in the midst of a ring of
knights with tattered cloaks and surcoats--Manfred's young poets and
musicians. It made Daoud's heavy heart feel a little lighter to see that
they had stuck by their king. He steered his horse over to Manfred.

"Emir Daoud! And still on your horse." The face under the bronzed helmet
was red and shiny with sweat. Manfred's expression and voice were
cheerful, but Daoud saw a deep, haunting anguish in his eyes.

"This is my fourth horse of the day, Sire." Daoud climbed down and bent
his knee to press Manfred's mail-gloved hand against his forehead.

"I had heard you were killed."

"That new French army that came at noon overran us." No need to tell
Manfred, if he did not know, how close they had come to winning. "Sire,
we have enough horses and men to break out of here."

Manfred shook his head. "Nothing is left for me except to decide how the
minnesingers will remember me after this day. To fall in battle will be
far better, surely, than whatever shameful end Charles d'Anjou might be
planning for me."

"But you need not fall i