the hold. "I should find a name for you boy, give me a day or two and I will think of a fitting name for a mighty warhorse." Patting the horse's head, it responded by thrashing wildly.

"I don't much like the thought of taking to sea either horse, but we will be landing in France soon so try and get some rest." Turning to look for John, Steele climbed the wooden ladder leading onto the deck.

"Hurry up Steele or you will miss out on the fun!" John was already off the ship and heading for the nearest tavern.

"We will not be underway for a while yet." Steele picked his way through the throng of men loading supplies, soldiers milling about on the pier. Pilgrims transferred money in returngive his opponent more urgency. Feeling the hands tighten Steele aimed for the man's kidneys. Repeatedly stabbing in a frenzy Steele felt the man's death grip loosen. Finally, he gained the upper hand. Flipping over Steele pinioned the youth to the ground.

Again and again, he lunged. Blood spurted over Steele's arms, across the sand, and into his face. He watched as the light slowly dimmed and finally left the man's eyes. His death tremors flickered then finally ceased. Rolling himself off of the body Steele knelt on his hands and knees. He vomited in the sand. Shaking, he pulled himself up onto his horse.

"Move it Steele! Get into the formation." Head reeling Steele spurred his horse to join the Templars preparing to charge.

"Beau Seant!" they cried. Crashing headlong