Simon looked curiously at the stirring scene before him. A great space of land lay between the Athenian forces and their enemies--a space vividly green with young corn that flourished on the plain of Thebes as on all the plains of Greece. On the other side of that spreading area of soft shoots the men of the Catalan Grand Company were drawn up in open array of battle, with the gaudy banner of the Duchess of Thebes floating over their ranks side by side with their own flag and the treasonable pennon of Epirus. Simon marvelled on looking to see them waiting there so composedly for the formidable onslaught of the Frankish chivalry. The bowmen were resting by their strung bows as unconcernedly as if a holiday were toward, and the armored leaders moved hither and thither leisurely among the ranks. It seemed as if the following of Baldwin had but to spur only a few yards across the soft, bright corn to brush these foemen out of existence. Nine hundred of the finest knights in Greece, swathed in steel, rode with the Duke of Athens and filled the summer air with their war-cries, eager to sweep over the field and chastise the insolence of their contemptible enemies. Behind them now tramped a well-equipped army on foot, strongly armed, admirably marshalled, inured to war, and eager for the engagement. Simon was puzzled if no one else was. The odds against the Catalan Grand Company showed tremendous, even when such reinforcements as were afforded by the adherents of the Duchess of Thebes were taken into account, while Demetrius of Epirus brought no more than his small personal following and the cheap dishonor of his name. It looked as if none might survive the skirmish to mount the gibbets which Duke Baldwin so uncompromisingly promised to the rebels. Suddenly an idea came into Simon's head, and he slapped his leg with satisfaction. That is it, he said to himself, convinced that he had found an answer to the problem that perplexed him. The dogs knew that they must die, one way or another, by sword or by rope, and they meant to make a good end of it, soldier-wise, and at bay. Something of pity stirred in his heart for the stout fellows so soon to be butchered and waiting so soldierly for the end. They were truculent ruffians, those Catalans, but at least they knew how to play a losing game with courage and dignity. Another little hour and how many of those bearded faces would show any hot blood in the cheeks? The fortune of war, Simon reflected, composedly, and settled himself in the saddle for the obliterating charge which he guessed must soon be made, for Duke Baldwin had reined in his horse, and with him the army halted, a splendid patch of steel and color upon the plain. Duke Baldwin turned in his saddle and smiled upon his chivalry, while he pointed to the Catalan Grand Company and the forces of the lady of Thebes.