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merely cried that she would never again speak to her husband or even look upon him. |
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Before it was necessary to test that resolution, Richard was gone. Saladin, resolved to bring pressure on the King to abandon Ascalon, was attacking Jaffa and attacking it with his whole army in a desperate attempt to conquer and destroy it before Richard could bring reinforcements. Knowing that the city would fall before he could mobilize and move the entire army, Richard chose eighty knights and four hundred archers and footmen and embarked by sea. He arrived just in time to prevent the surrender of the Citadel, and so powerful was the magic of his name that the starving, weary garrison at once flew to arms again. During their renewed defense, Richard and his men were able to beach their boats and bring their horses through the water to the city without loss. |
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Soaking wet, with the armor galling his body, Simon was sick with rage and despair. He had thought the peace terms were all but final, and here they were beginning all over again. Too many enemies. Too many. Too much. A sword slipped behind his shield and pricked his ribs through the mail, but the light weapon was not strong enough and the steel mesh held. Simon turned and swung. The bearded head, its neck unprotected by armor, flew off like a ball, hit the ground, and bounced. The trunk, still upright, gushed a fountain of red that rose a good foot into the air before the body started to topple sideways as the horse bolted. Simon began to laugh. |
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"This is my peaceball games and fountains," he gasped as he swung again. |
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That blow was not clean. He did not take the head quite off. It hung to the side giving an insane, inquiring look to the wide, dead eyes as the man fell. Simon roared with laughter and aimed for another head. Madly, he felt annoyed with Richard who was cleaving bodies either downward or across. It seemed un- |
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