... AFTER A FEW WORDS ...-3
634 Words
TWO GREAT WAR HORSES began to move ponderously forward toward the battle lines, gaining momentum as they went. Moving in unison, the two knights, their horses now at a fast trot, lowered their lances, picking their Saracen targets with care. Larger and larger loomed the Egyptian cavalrymen as the horses changed pace to a thundering gallop.
The Egyptians tried to dodge, as they saw, too late, the approach of the Christian knights.
Sir Robert felt the shock against himself and his horse as the steel tip of the long ash lance struck the Saracen horseman in the chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Sir Gaeton, too, had scored.
The Saracen, impaled on Sir Robert’s lance, shot from the saddle as he died. His lighter armor had hardly impeded the incoming spear-point, and now his body dragged it down as he dropped toward the desert sand. Another Moslem cavalryman was charging in now, swinging his curved saber, taking advantage of Sir Robert’s sagging lance.
There was nothing else to do but drop the lance and draw his heavy broadsword. His hand grasped it, and it came singing from its scabbard.
The Egyptian’s curved sword clanged against Sir Robert’s helm, setting his head ringing. In return, the knight’s broadsword came about in a sweeping arc, and the Egyptian’s horse rode on with the rider’s headless body.
Behind him, Sir Robert heard further cries of “St. George and England!”
The Hospitallers, taking heart at the charge, were going in! Behind them came the Count of Champagne, the Earl of Leister, and the Bishop of Beauvais, who carried a great warhammer in order that he might not break Church Law by shedding blood.
Sir Robert’s own sword rose and fell, cutting and hacking at the enemy. He himself felt a dreamlike detachment, as though he were watching the battle rather than participating in it.
But he could see that the Moslems were falling back before the Christian onslaught.
And then, quite suddenly, there seemed to be no foeman to swing at. Breathing heavily, Sir Robert sheathed his broadsword.
Beside him, Sir Gaeton did the same, saying: “It will be a few minutes before they can regroup, sir knight. We may have routed them completely.”
“Aye. But King Richard will not approve of my breaking ranks and disobeying orders. I may win the battle and lose my head in the end.”
“This is no time to worry about the future,” said the Gascon. “Rest for a moment and relax, that you may be the stronger later. Here—have an Old Kings.”
He had a pack of cigarettes in his gauntleted hand, which he profferred to Sir Robert. There were three cigarettes protruding from it, one slightly farther than the others. Sir Robert’s hand reached out and took that one.
“Thanks. When the going gets rough, I really enjoy an Old Kings.”
He put one end of the cigarette in his mouth and lit the other from the lighter in Sir Gaeton’s hand.
“Yes, sir,” said Sir Gaeton, after lighting his own cigarette, “Old Kings are the greatest. They give a man real, deep-down smoking pleasure.”
“There’s no doubt about it, Old Kings are a man’s cigarette.” Sir Robert could feel the soothing smoke in his lungs as he inhaled deeply. “That’s great. When I want a cigarette, I don’t want just any cigarette.”
“Nor I,” agreed the Gascon. “Old Kings is the only real cigarette when you’re doing a real man’s work.”
“That’s for sure.” Sir Robert watched a smoke ring expand in the air.
There was a sudden clash of arms off to their left. Sir Robert dropped his cigarette to the ground. “The trouble is that doing a real he-man’s work doesn’t always allow you to enjoy the fine, rich tobaccos of Old Kings right down to the very end.”
“No, but you can always light another later,” said the Gascon knight.
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- Writer
