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Page 421
battle had churned the earth of the plain into a cloud.
That laugh was the last Simon uttered for some time. Barely had Richard reformed his men when the Saracens flooded over them again. It did not seem possible that there should be more enemies than beforehundreds, perhaps thousands, had been killed. The line of mounted men did not break; the footmen performed prodigies of valor. Nonetheless they were forced back by the weight of numbers.
"Simon!"
Above the din, Richard's clear bellow was like a trumpet. Simon knocked his opponent aside with a thrust of his shield. To respond was more important than to kill.
"Take ten mounted men and follow me." The King struck down two more but found breath to call similar orders to Leicester and others.
It was easier said than done. To draw men from a fight without causing a panic is difficult. There is little time or quiet for explanations while blows are being exchanged. Nonetheless, it was done, and a small band of panting men surrounded the King a little apart from the screaming, clashing battle.
"Follow!" Richard cried.
There was no banner; that remained with the Bishop of Beauvais who held the center of the main force. The men thanked God that Richard was a giant. They would be able to see him when they fought again. It never occurred even once to a single man that the King, seeing the tide of battle had turned, was fleeing to save himself. Riding hard to the right beyond the battle front, Simon again had cause to bless Lord Rannulf's gray stallions as one of the men's horses foundered. His breath began to ease, the pain under his ribs lessening. The blessed interval did not last long. Simon tightened his grip on his sword again and drew a deeper breath when he saw where Richard was

 
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