THE BATTLEFIELD, 139

And now another attempt was made to reach
Mansourah. But it was too late. All was over with
the brave band who had followed the Count of Artois
into the city; and every moment the aspect of affairs
became more menacing; for Bibars Bendocdar, elate
with his victory within the walls, issued from the
gate, animating his soldiers with the words—‘ God is
powerful,’ and hoping to deal with the French king,
as he had dealt with the French king’s brother.
Nor, at first, did it appear that the Crusaders could
escape utter defeat. Not aware what was occurring,
and suddenly attacked by a mighty force led by a
dauntless chief, they were pressed and whirled about
and separated from each other, and forced to en-
counter countless odds at every disadvantage. Yet
even in stich circumstances the warriors of France
maintained their high reputation for valour; and, as
the combat proceeded and became keener and
keener, many a strong Saracen went to his account.

On both sides, indeed, great was the display of
personal prowess and courage; but there was no
generalship. Amidst clouds of dust, and under a
glowing sun, Christian and Moslem fought hand to
hand, and steel to steel. Helmet and turban mingled
confusedly in the struggle; while banners rose and
fell, and knights were unhorsed, and saddles emptied.
From Mansourah to Achmoun, and from the Nile to
the ford pointed out by the Bedouin, the ground,
literally covered with combatants, shook with the
rush of their horses, and the sky was rent by the
opposing war-cries of ‘Islam! Islam!’ and ‘ Mont-
joie, St. Denis!’ What with the shouts of the living,