The king—no, the enemy commander—had scarcely been knocked from his horse when Count Raymond's knights burst into thunderous cheers. Their squires and men-at-arms immediately charged forward desperately, trying to drag Amalric I out from beneath the chaotic hooves and bind him. How could Amalric I's knights willingly suffer such humiliation? They too rushed forward in a frenzy, their squires and men-at-arms swinging axes and war hammers at enemies of their own rank.
Instead, this put the king in grave danger.
It could be said that if Count Raymond's knights' squires dragged the king away and made him a prisoner, he would be in their safe zone; conversely, if the king's knights dragged him away, he could return to his own safe zone, remount, and fight again.
Taking a step further back, if those involved in this melee had not received blessings, the danger facing the king would not have been so great.
When Cesar had first seen the tournament arena camp, he had been puzzled—these temporary structures, such as the platform built to welcome Princess Mary, were all made of wood. Only the arena had been constructed like a city wall: broad, massive, and over thirty French feet high. Now he understood. Knights who had prayed for a saint's favor were almost like groups of monsters forged from steel.
When they crashed into one another, it was like cliffs splitting apart; when they hacked at each other, it was like crossing bolts of lightning. They slammed into stone walls and left clear imprints, then immediately rose to continue fighting. Some knights, shrouded in holy light, rode straight into the enemy formation, allowing lances to stab them without suffering the slightest injury.
Yet this also showed that even among knights who had received "Grace," the favors they gained differed. Some were