The remaining two Crusaders, seeing their Lord fall and three of their comrades dead in the sand, lost their zeal. They were severely outnumbered by the surviving, enraged Bedouins, and they had just witnessed a half-naked boy cripple a warhorse with a single swing.
Panic overtook piety.
One of the men scrambled onto his horse, hauling his comrade up behind him. They wheeled the mount around, driving their spurs in deep, and fled back over the northern dune, disappearing in a cloud of frantic dust.
You just borrowed a trope used in Jack reaper or Jason Statham movies they take on a group of 5,6 or 7 goons and the last two standing who just witnessed their partners get their ass kicked runaway. Just like these guys