nothing. I want them to go to the best riders. You three, of course, then Hugh de Neville, Guillaume d’Etang, Raoul de Mauléon, Gerard de Furnival, Roger de Sathy . . . ”
He reeled off the names without hesitation and Henri marveled at his powers of concentration; his own thoughts were darting hither and yon like swallows at dusk. Richard was mounted now, gesturing and shouting as he sought to rally his troops, and Henri hastened to mount his own horse, adding his voice to his uncle’s even as his eyes kept straying toward the horizon. The dawn sky was scattered with clouds; they’d absorbed the vibrant hues of sunrise, several as red as Richard’s galley, Sea-Cleaver, a few reflecting the deep lilac that was Isabella’s favorite color, and he could not help wondering if he’d be alive to see the sunset.
THEIR SHIELDS AND SPEARS firmly rooted in the dry Outremer dirt, their backs protected by the sand cliffs leading down to the sea, the men turned toward their king, astride a restive black stallion. With all eyes upon him, Richard tore his own gaze from the dust clouds being kicked up to the east; time was running out. Raising his hand for quiet, he began to speak. “I know you are fearful. But we are not defeated. If we hold fast, we can prevail over our foes. Yet to do that, every man must do his part. If even one of you gives in to your fear and tries to flee, you doom us all. Rather than let that happen, I will personally kill anyone who seeks to run.”
He paused to let his warning sink in. “We are all going to die, but in God’s Time, not Saladin’s. For most people, their deaths have no meaning. If we die this day, we die for the Lord Christ and the Holy Sepulchre. Can there be a greater glory than that?” Again he paused, his gaze moving intently from man to man. “When we took the cross, we pledged our lives. In return, we were promised remission of our earthly transgressions. It does not matter how dark your sins are—and I’d wager some of them are very dark indeed.” As he’d hoped, that bit of gallows humor elicited some tight smiles. “So our salvation is assured. But our defeat is not. If we hold firm, they will not be able to penetrate our defenses. You are brave men and I am proud to fight alongside you. I know you can do this. You need only have faith—in God, in your own courage, and in me.”
In the past, when he’d sought to embolden his men before combat, they’d often responded with raucous cheers, their blood already surging with the apprehensive excitement of battle-seasoned soldiers. This exhortation was met with a subdued silence, but he was encouraged by what he saw on their faces—they looked resolute. Still fearful, yet eager to clutch at hope, and desperate. That was good, for he knew desperate men would fight like fiends. “Holy Sepulchre, aid us!” he shouted and they began to shout it, too, the war cry of the third crusade echoing on the humid August air like a defiant, despairing prayer.
RICHARD HAD WARNED the men to take their waterskins, saying they’d have need of them as the day wore on. Morgan unhooked his and took a sip, just enough to wet his dry mouth. They could see the enemy in the distance, their approach heralded by so much dust that it seemed as if a vast army was swooping down upon them. An unnatural silence had settled over their ranks, each man alone with his own thoughts. All around Morgan, knights were getting into position, securing their shields and lances. He was sure that they felt as he did, wishing they were on horseback. He glanced toward the mounted knights, his gaze lingering upon Henri as he silently repeated the latter’s words. You do not have to believe in miracles, Morgan. Just believe in my uncle. God knows, he wanted to. But Henri had told him they only had fifty-four knights, four hundred crossbowmen, and two thousand men-at-arms. By any calculation, they were greatly outnumbered. How could they hope to hold out against such odds?
As he looked around, he wondered how many of these men were doomed. He very much doubted that Richard would be taken alive; the only way to overcome him would be to kill him. But Henri was likely to be captured,