Unchained: Tales of Overcoming the Impossible Through Faith and Action

By M. Francis Schmidt

Throughout history people have faced unbelievable, seemingly impossible situations through war, genocide, poverty and political oppression. Yet, even in those dire situations, they have prevailed against all odds through bold action and their deep faith in Christ. Unchained takes the reader amidst fourteen centuries of such amazing triumphsfrom the Battle of Tours in France through the Battle of Vienna in 1683 into the horrific Armenian genocide of the last century and then through the authors own rousing life. The stories will both astound and inspire you.

However, Unchained is more than an inspirational history lesson; it contains the amazing fairy tale The Knight and the Butterfly that is a vibrant, colorful and moving story for children and adults alike. There is also the probing, somewhat comical story The Question that tears both a man and the Bible apart, piece by piece, flaw by flaw, only to have the Godly truth revealed in the end.

If that isnt enough for the reader, Unchained includes dozens of the authors emotional poems of Poe-like dark and decadent design and then moves through his mystical and thought-provoking oeuvre. The reader is then taken on one last, incredible trip through time with Archangel Gabriel from the beginning of time straight through to the rapture. The epic poem frames the evolution of earth and the beginning and the end of civilization, the struggle between faith and science as well as the dreadful failings and the astounding victories of man. How does the world end? Read it and find out. Even Nostradamus would raise an eyebrow.

However, Unchained is more than a collection of different tales and poetry. The astute reader will find common threads through all the stories, both in the characters and the action; moreover, that the real and the fictional are all inter-related. Discerning booklovers will recognize that, in fact, Unchained is one singular opus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477216088

M. Francis Schmidt

M. Francis Schmidt is a lifelong student of history and anthropology. He did his undergraduate studies at the University of Edinboro and his graduate work in geology at Kent State University under a grant from the Los Alamos National Laboratory. Through the course of his life he has experienced many extremes: homelessness and great wealth as well as being a world record holder athlete and published poet. He is one of the few people ever to compete on the world stage in both poetry and a international sport in the same year. Never one to fit neatly into any particular social mold, the author has had work published on weightlifting, nutrition as well as the roots of the militancy and religious imperialism of Islam.

Book preview

Unchained!

Tales of Overcoming the Impossible

Through Faith and Action

M. FRANCIS SCHMIDT

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©2012 M. Francis Schmidt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 6/26/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1609-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1607-1 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1608-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012909877

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Part I True Christian War Stories

Book 1 The Hammer Falls In France (The Battle Of Tours)

Book 2 The Walls (The Battle Of Vienna)

Book 3 The Last Breath Of The First Christian ( The Armenian Genocide)

Book 4 An Unlikely Story ( The Battle Of Life)

Part II Short Stories And Long Poetry

Book 5 The Kníght And The Butterfly

Book 6 The Question

Book 7 Rage Against The Storm

Book 8 Gabriel’s Daydream

About The Author

Dedication

To Jehovah Jirah, my provider. Everything that has been good in my life and that ever will be good comes from the Creator. The Father gave me life, the Holy Spirit guides my life and Christ saved my life.

To my parents, who had little, but gave much. May you both know peace in Heaven.

To Dr. Joshua Robert Schmidt, whose warrior spirit joined his grandparents at the inequitable age of twenty-nine.

Throughout our lives, many different kinds of chains can be shackled to our bodies. We may bear the yoke of poverty, the manacles of political and/ or religious repression, the fetters of social violence or even the bondage of physical disabilities. But the chains that are the hardest to break are those we place upon ourselves though fear, despair and hopelessness.

While wealth and education give one the illusion of independence, the only way a person can truly cast away all of life’s great encumbrances is to become one with God.

PART I

True Christian War Stories

BOOK 1

The Hammer Falls in France

(The Battle of Tours)

The Hammer Falls in France

The rhythmic clanging of hard metal reverberated throughout the dank, smoky room as a muscular young man beat on a sword blade again and again. He was sweating profusely and cussing under his breath as the hot metal was not cooperating with his iron hammer. The apprentice blacksmith had learned what he knew of this trade from his father who was on pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Right at this moment, the fledgling apprentice was particularly agitated and was grumbling in dissatisfaction about the little tricks that he wasn’t taught. The metal simply wasn’t shaping right—he must have cooled it too much or too fast.

In the midst of this conundrum, the heavy oak front door swung open and the shadow of an armored knight filled the doorway.

Benjamin! May a man find refuge out of this rain from Hell? clamored the knight who had rivulets of rainwater pouring off every part of his chainmail armor.

Uncle! bellowed the young blacksmith. Come in at once and warm up!

The burly knight hastened into the small, hazy quarters. Three younger knights followed immediately behind and walked directly to the hearth. There they proceeded to remove their kettle hats, chainmail and boots. They were soaked clear through to their quilted under-armor pads. Steam roiled off the stacked armor as it heated next to the hearth.

The older knight was middle aged, battle-scarred and had mischievous grey-blue eyes that offset his otherwise stern countenance. His forearms were like thick cords of rope that foretold of a bone-crushing grip. He was originally from this part of France but had been away so long on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land that he was now known as Robert of Lebanon.

However, this visit by Robert unsettled the twenty year old Benjamin. Robert of Lebanon was a living legend and he just didn’t visit obscure hamlets for entertainment or even to casually visit family. Robert wasted no time starting the conversation.

This sword looks like it has problems. I know that my brother taught you better than this.

Well, actually, I just started working on it a few minutes ago, Benjamin replied with angst.

Then it did not take you very long to mangle it, Robert quipped ruthlessly which caused the three other knights by the hearth to snicker. Without pausing, Robert paced on.

Benjamin, I believe that you have a higher calling than ruining good weapons. The whole of Europe is under siege by Emir al-Rakhman of Spain. His Muslim forces outnumber the stars and they have burned every village and church for two hundred miles from the border of the Spanish marches.

Benjamin’s stomach sank. He cared nothing for the wars of others. He had gone to battle at the age of fifteen with his father and had done well but the memories of the blood and misery tormented him. Indeed, this visit smelled of entrapment. Benjamin mustered up his best defense.

Certainly, Duke Eudes’ Aquitanian army will hold him back and the Muslims must be over two hundred miles from here. No doubt it is simply a raid and it will peter out long before the Mohammedans get anywhere near Paris.

Robert reared his head back and deafeningly roared.

Silence!

The other huddled knights were now watching with silent intensity. The middle-aged Robert went into a blistering rage, the kind of rage that reminded everyone in the small room of why he was so formidable and why his Muslim adversaries called him al-Nimr—the Tiger. Robert smashed a water jug with his fist as he stormed on.

Young, naive nephew! The emir has already swept away the Aquitanians like flies! They have sacked Bordeaux and burned the Basilica of St. Hilaire to the ground! They now march on Tours with all evil intent to burn our Lord’s St. Martin’s Basilica! They have one hundred thousand horsemen and a black vision to wipe out Christianity itself! Shall we sit here and wait to be annihilated?

The muscles on the sides of Benjamin’s face noticeably flexed as he clenched his square jaw.

But surely, Uncle, a handful such as us can do little to change things, he countered with caution.

Sensing the explosion to come, the tallest knight, Joshua, who was also Robert’s son, interrupted.

Father, it is clear that we made a mistake coming here. Let’s move on as soon as our things are dried.

Joshua, Charles Martel has asked that I gather a vanguard for the battle to come. I need every single good man available and your cousin is one such man. He just doesn’t know it yet.

At hearing the word vanguard Benjamin started twitching. The vanguard was the foremost point of attacking armies. That is where the great heroes gathered—and usually died. Benjamin had no longing whatsoever to become a legend—or a martyr.

Sensing Benjamin’s reluctance and Robert’s near-detonation, Joshua, who had fought for and relieved several cities in the Levant, walked up to Benjamin and looked inquisitively at him.

What will it be cousin? Joshua asked in a welcomed calm tone. During a crisis of leadership in Tyre, Joshua had been placed in the difficult position to oversee legal disputes between Christians and Muslims and he consistently produced superlative results. He was subsequently titled Joshua the Just for his Solomon-like equitableness.

Benjamin paused for what seemed like many minutes, and then spoke like a man who was much older than just twenty.

I only hesitate as I know that wars are usually the playthings of kings. Borders and banners may or may not change but men by the multitudes always die. When was the last time that a king led his own men and risked his own life?

Indeed, cousin, Charles leads this army himself.

But Charles is not the king.

Yes, this is so. But we all know that as mayor of the palace, Charles might as well be king.

Then, after studying his cousin’s face for several moments, Benjamin spoke.

Joshua, what you say is true. Then, while looking up at the ceiling as if asking God for guidance, Benjamin solemnly concluded the argument.

So be it. I will do my part; but I will need armor.

Robert immediately and joyfully slapped Benjamin on the back while Joshua placed his own kettle cap on Benjamin’s head only to see, with great humor, that it looked like an acorn sitting atop of a pumpkin. Benjamin had inherited his uncle’s famously oversized head.

Here, nephew, take my helmet. There is not enough metal in this shop to make another so large, Robert barked, half serious.

Within a week, the small group of five knights led by Robert swelled to fifty-seven veteran warriors, fourteen of whom were retired soldiers who had turned to farming. They were a rough, bedraggled group indeed. Most were over forty years of age and many had horrific battle wounds. Five men had only one eye and three men had just their sword hand. When fingers, ears, noses and other components were considered, only eleven men in the entire group had their full complement of body parts; but rarely did even the best of warriors escape entirely whole from a lifetime of warfare.

As many of the men did not even possess a road worthy horse, they were doubled up where possible; the rest marched. This gruff group captured strange looks as they trekked through the many grimy villages on their way to meet Charles’ army. Yet, Robert of Lebanon knew that, without question, these were the fiercest men in the region. Their bravery and capabilities were indisputable as he had fought alongside all of them or with their lieges at some point in the past three decades. Even the men with only one arm or hand could lay low most soldiers and every one of them would willingly fight to the bitter end; moreover, they all were seething for a battle with the Saracen invaders.

A little more than half way between Orleans and Tours, approximately one hundred and thirty miles south of Paris, this motley group of knights came upon Charles’ camp. Colorful tents of all sizes were strewn throughout the rolling autumn fields as far as the eye could see. Robert digested the amazing scene before him. Surely, he thought to himself, this army could take on anything; but, at the same time, experience had taught him that war was not a remotely predictable affair.

The group weaved through the makeshift alleys created by tents, stacked arms, fires and cooking pots until they came across a huge tent that had the mayor’s standard flapping atop in the wind. The group dismounted, stretched and groaned and then Robert announced himself to the guards. Robert and Joshua were invited into the tent to meet with Charles and his commanders. Robert walked immediately up to Charles, who was much taller than he, and spoke first.

My liege, I have come with the foundation of a vanguard as you have requested.

My good Robert; thank God you are here. Have you gathered one hundred of the finest?

I have fifty seven of the stoutest men in the kingdom.

Charles rubbed his beard in thought and then replied.

It is, no doubt, like everything else here. We have good soldiers, but not enough of them. We have quality supplies but too little inventory. Robert, we are outnumbered three to one and I dare not even speak what the cavalry ratios are. The emir has his advance horsemen stationed not ten miles from here. They only wait to scout our next move and then overwhelm us. Only the Lord knows why they have not already brought their host up and attacked us.

Even though Robert had not spent much time with Charles in the past few years, he still could not recall the mayor ever being so forlorn. When he scanned the room, his heart sank as he observed every single captain staring at the floor. As an absentee captain, he was on thin ice here, but he had to speak his mind.

Your Highness, may I speak in earnest?

Charles perked at the Your Highness introduction. Technically speaking, the Merovingian royalty were still claimants to the throne and supposedly had a lineage that dated back to Mary Magdalene and Christ; but they had become slovenly and commanded no real respect. Charles possessed no blue-blood lineage; but he had assumed the enormous responsibilities of the kingdom’s defense for many years. Indeed, the great chisel of destiny was being sharpened for one of history’s legendary sculptors.

Please share your thoughts, Robert, Charles replied.

What is all this darkness related to?

Robert, we have all but concluded that the emir’s massive cavalry will be too much, if not impossible, to withstand. We have the greatest infantry in Europe but I do not have to share with you the history of such encounters. Many here believe that we may need to fight a withdrawing engagement to stretch the Muslim supply lines and perhaps wear them out before they get to St. Martin’s.

Robert bristled at these words and then spoke in harsh tones.

With all respect, I have never, in my entire life, seen our army fight a retreating war. If we maintain our positions within these rolling hills, the emir will have no clear advantage as he will not be able to effectively communicate and direct his horsemen. This is why they have not advanced yet—they wait for us to move into the more open floodplains. Indeed, uncoordinated cavalry is no more than a gang of men on horses.

The captains all turned to Charles to watch his reaction. The mayor of the palace stood motionless and stroked his beard. He looked Robert up and down and managed a small smile.

Robert, I must confess, your reputation precedes you. Certainly you have never been short on bravery; but how do we make up our shortage of soldiers?

Taking a deep breath, Robert proceeded with his plan.

We cannot abandon this wet, uneven ground as it is to our advantage. As would be the Lord’s will, this ground continues south such that in less than a two days march we can place ourselves at Tours, which lies between St. Martin’s Cathedral and the Muslim host.

Robert glanced up at Charles who gave the nod to continue.

Furthermore, Emir Rakhman is famously arrogant and knows that he outnumbers us. Moreover, he believes that we, as Christian infidels, are utterly incapable of winning this affair. Therefore, it is only a matter of time before he becomes impatient and makes his first blunder.

Robert stopped for a moment to see if, in fact, he still commanded an audience. All eyes were on him so he continued with even more energy.

We must then concentrate our heavy infantry across from where the scouts say the Emir’s bodyguard is gathered. No doubt that al-Rakhman will keep out of the range of our best archers.

Robert then became even more emphatic.

We must be able to withstand the initial charges. When our counterattack commences, the heavy infantry will have to protect my flanks as my vanguard cuts its way to the emir and takes him. The Mohammedans will be lost without him. In the absence of his leadership, they will scatter like sparrows before a hawk.

And how will we withstand their cavalry when none have done so in recent memory? barked Jonathan who was the commander of the archers and a physical giant. He sported long, flowing hair and a goatee beard that was nearly two hands long. Such a beard would not work well for most men but it did fit this man. However, Jonathan’s one unique feature, and impossible to overlook, was his wooden leg that shot out from under his chainmail. Although no one dared stare at his leg, it was simply too much to miss. Yet, even with only one leg, the man weighed over three hundred pounds! Because of Jonathan’s features, Robert had always been suspicious that he was actually a Norseman, but the man had no accent and his loyalty was beyond question.

Jonathan relentlessly continued his inquisition of Robert.

You speak as these were easy enough things! I could understand if there were heavy woods anywhere near so we could cut javelins, but all we have are these endless rolling and plowed fields; and you say that, in fact, your men will cut through over a thousand bodyguards?!

Robert became red-faced and exploded in anger.

"I can see that the captains have been living the easy life while I was gone! A true challenge confronts us and all you can think about is how to quickly get away! Are we not the warriors for Christ? Are we not the champions of Europe? Are we not defending France itself from a Muslim sponsored extermination? If we start fighting a retreating action now, we might as well march backwards to the Baltic as their onslaught will not weaken. Such tactics did not save Spain and if it were not for Pelagius, there would not be a Spanish soldier left on the entire Iberian Peninsula. And do not question the capabilities of my soldiers!"

Every eye was bulging in the room. It seemed for a moment that perhaps no one was even breathing. Charles spoke softly to keep the intensity level from going to the next painful level.

Robert, there is no doubt about your capabilities. I can see your point about the advantageous terrain as well as the dubious merits of a retreating action. I can even see marching south and setting up lines as you speak; but how do we withstand the massive Mohammedan cavalry? Have you developed another one of your curious strategies?

"Charles, we can use this landscape to our advantage—but we must march hard and at once and then set camp just outside the muddy fields to the south. I ask that mud pits be created that are one thousand paces long and be located one half a furlong in front of the entire battle line except for the small area where the vanguard is to be posted. We will disassemble the planks from the supply wagons and split and sharpen them to make four hundred horse traps and place them between the mud pits and the front lines. As this interrupts their cavalry charges, our archers will rain hell down upon them; but we must be patient after everything is in place. I ask that you then send a curt message to taunt al-Rakhman saying that we have no fear that a Muslim coward would dare attack a true Frankish army. The emir knows these fields will hamper his horsemen but his vanity and impatience will overcome his senses."

Jonathan responded with tight lips.

Indeed, Robert, are you a mind reader as well? How do you know all these things? What if the emir does not do what you suggest?

Then, my giant friend, we will sit right there. It is late October and the snow will fly soon. The Muslims are over three hundred miles from Spain and have to return through the Pyrenees. They cannot wait long in any case as they have foolishly burned everything to the ground behind them and we will block the way to everything ahead of them—if we move quickly enough. Therefore, if they do not attack, then they must retreat before winter begins in the mountains as their supplies will be exhausted. Either way, we will be rid of them.

Charles was stroking his beard again. He then spoke clearly and firmly.

Order the men to break camp. We march south in two hours. Captain Constantinus, get the priests in here! We need prayers.

The entire army packed up within hours and the long line of troops started heading south by mid-morning. The Christian scouts regularly reported the movements of the Muslim advance guard but all indications were that they were staying put. Charles’ advance troops arrived at the designated rendezvous on the cloudy afternoon of October twenty-second. The balance of the army paced into camp over the next twelve hours. Although there were several small clashes during the troop movements there were, surprisingly, no major actions. Charles was never completely sure of why that was so, he could only assume al-Rakhman was so confident in his singular victory that the he felt no large diversionary actions were necessary.

Once the battle line was defined by Charles and his captains, two thousand soldiers began digging a massive trench that was indeed one thousand paces long and ten paces wide. Another five hundred men were assigned to carry water from the cask wagons to the trenches in order to create a muddy mess twelve hands deep. The entire mud filled trench was then covered with autumn hay and straw. Another five hundred soldiers immediately began unloading the supply wagons and then tearing apart the wagons’ planking to fabricate, and then install, hundreds of wickedly spiked horse traps. They were placed such that the Muslim horsemen who did clear the expansive trench would have their mounts impaled on the traps. All of these preparations were meant to cause a great reduction in the momentum of the Muslim charges so that the clouds of Frankish arrows could do their worst. Then, hopefully, the Frankish infantry would have better odds of holding back the onslaught.

Charles’ army finished this work and then waited patiently. The foot soldiers worked off their nervous energy by sharpening their short swords called saxes, as well as their pikes and battle-axes. Their commanders reviewed scouting reports and grilled all the line chiefs on positions, timing and signals. Meanwhile, Robert of Lebanon wasted no time in selecting the balance of the stalwart soldiers for his vanguard. More than four hundred had volunteered, but Robert wanted only the strongest and most valiant warriors possible. He found sixty-three such soldiers which gave him one hundred and twenty battle-tested men. Many of these men were from the eastern areas of the kingdom as well as a number of German and Lombard migrant warriors who had moved west looking for greater glory. The Germans in particular were renowned for their fighting prowess and unmatched fury.

Vanguards were often many times this size, but this mission required a tightly packed and supremely coordinated group. This could not be accomplished with many hundreds or thousands of men, as in this unique situation, more men did not necessarily translate into a more effective force. Robert ordered the entire vanguard to an unoccupied field and introduced the men to this critical mission. He did not mince words regarding the magnitude of the battle or to the likelihood of any of them surviving. When Robert was done with his message, every man knew that the entire kingdom, and perhaps even the entire western Christian world, depended on their success. Every soldier to a man, including the philosophical Benjamin, accepted the terms.

Robert understood that he needed something out of the ordinary to prevail. He thought of Alexander the Great and his incredible victories over the vast Persian armies. He decided on the classical phalanx formation and then modified it in several ways for this once ever application. First, spears were to be used as they worked their way through the horsemen, but when they came upon the emir’s bodyguard, they would discard their spears in unison and go to their short swords. No slashing action by his swordsmen would be allowed as that was not effective against armored infantry; therefore, the vanguard would make only thrusting actions with their swords. Robert also improvised for his disadvantaged warriors. The warriors with only one complete arm or hand would have large shields strapped to their stumps and would be positioned appropriately within the group according to their particular shortcoming.

The phalanx would be only eight men wide and a full fifteen men deep to give a hammerhead effect upon the typically free-wheeling swordsmen that usually comprised Muslim bodyguards. Robert’s goal was not to kill the maximum number of Muslim soldiers but to slice through the enemy ranks and engage as few as possible before getting to the emir. Also, to provide a pincer action once they were upon the emir, the rear half of the phalanx was to split off the main body upon the rear captain’s signal and squeeze the emir from two directions. The Germans initially struggled with all these maneuvers as they had always prided themselves on the valor of individual combat. Robert would have no part of such individualism, heroic or not, and drilled the men relentlessly until they understood the movements and both the vocal and hand signals. The training on for hours until Robert was summoned to the command tent.

Earlier, Charles had sent an insulting message to the scheming emir. Indeed, Al-Rakhman fumed at the audacity of the infidels and ordered his monstrous host to move just within distant eyesight of the Frankish army but did not order the attack.

Emir al-Rakhman al-Ghafiqi was in his early forties, had a lean, muscular build and maintained a well groomed, short cropped beard. He had piercing dark eyes that seemingly could see right into a man’s soul; consequently, very few men could maintain eye contact with him.

Al-Rakhman was as cunning as he was ruthless and a trail of corpses marked his path to the governorship of Spain. He was known to remember the smallest details of some petty slight or perceived disrespect for many years, which usually cost some unsuspecting soul his life. His voracious ambition had given him a dream of an empire that was independent of his haughty overlord, Caliph Hisham. The emir gritted his teeth tightly as he envisioned the Caliph lounging inside his harem in Syria while he marched through distinctly uninviting terrain to fight a battle that would probably cost fifty thousand men their lives. Regardless of the emir’s vast ambition, as well as his baleful skills, he would never see the dream of his own kingdom fulfilled.

Charles’ well prepared army waited in formation the entire day but nothing happened. As night fell, the Christian army relaxed but stayed close to their posts. It was determined to send a second, more provocative message to the emir that would cause him to overcome his dread of the unfavorable terrain. Charles then called Robert into his tent.

Yes, my liege, you summoned? Robert asked, employing a tone that was slightly more formal than was necessary.

Robert, is your group ready? Charles asked.

I believe that we are. I will need to speak with the commander of the heavy infantry who will be guarding my flanks. Other than that my men are prepared to do whatever is necessary to vanquish the evil that squats before us. I ask only one thing of thee. Yes—go ahead.

I would like to have the vanguard fly its own banner.

And what sort of banner are you thinking?

When Caesar returned to Rome to crush his enemies he had one that was an elephant stomping a snake. I ask for one that is a hammer smashing a scorpion.

Charles smiled slightly and responded with the first enthusiasm he had felt since receiving word of the Muslim invasion.

My good man, fly your banner and be the Lord’s hammer—and let us pray that you are as successful in this enterprise as the great Caesar was in his.

Charles continued.

Robert, I sent an unflattering message to the emir but his forces hold tight. Help me compose another message such that al-Rakhman cannot control himself.

It would be my pleasure.

Robert grabbed a quill on Charles’ makeshift table and began writing at once on a large sheet of parchment. Within minutes he produced this antagonizing note for Charles’ review:

"Grand Emir al-Rakhman al-Ghafiqi,

All of us under God’s eyes wonder about your reluctance to engage this day. Perhaps, your Allah has shown you the great wisdom of not wasting your soldiers on a cause you are incapable of winning. We rest peacefully in the sweet knowledge that an ill equipped army led by a sway-back cavalry is no cause for alarm.

I hereby grant you permission to leave France without the burden of war reparations.

In Christ’s Great Name,

Charles"

Robert handed over his work to Charles who read it with great pleasure.

No doubt Robert, this will work. If it does not, I do not know anything that possibly could. Guard! Have this message sent at once to the enemy!

Five horsemen trotted out from the front lines and when they were within arrowshot of the enemy lines, let loose an arrow with the message for the emir tethered to it. It was promptly gathered up and taken, unopened, to al-Rakhman.

The emir quickly read the note, tore it into pieces and went into a blistering rage. He ordered his generals and viziers into his tent and once they were assembled he addressed them with red-faced passion.

I can no longer dally with this situation. I have heeded your advice to this point, but here we sit while the infidels continue to mock us. I am about to give the order for the general attack. Are there any last details I should know before doing so?

Sire, I only want to reiterate that this ground works against us, responded Abdul Walid, commander of the Berber forces. Walid was an exceedingly tall North African who was not as intimidated by the emir as were all the others attending the meeting. Furthermore, his Berbers were known to be entirely fearless in battle and he was their unchallenged leader. Ironically, as fierce a Muslim fighting force as they were, the Berbers were treated as second class citizens by the Arabs and his own soldiers had not been paid in two months. Worse yet, the wet, chilly climate of France was not at all tolerable for the Berbers who were comfortable in the hot, dry climate of Morocco and Algiers. By contrast, the emir and the pure-blooded Arabs considered the