The night following this success was one of the quietest in the camp. The rapid and easy victory they had won had redoubled everyone's hopes that, upon the advance of the entire army the Mongols would perish utterly and completely, as if they had never been.
Most of the men in camp lay down, with the exception of the King, the sentries, and some of the generals.
The King allowed himself but a very short rest; for, from his many conversations with the unfortunate King Kuthen, he was well aware of the overwhelming numbers and strength of the Mongols, and he was determined that the enemy should never find him anything but prepared and on the alert.
Kálmán and Bishop Ugrin also approved these prudent measures; but the army as a whole was so worn out by long watches and merry-making that rest it must have.
It was a dark night, and the wind blew the tents about; the camp fires had been purposely extinguished, though it was spring-time and chilly.
Twice in the course of the night the King left his tent, made the round of the camp, and satisfied himself as to the strength of the wooden bulwarks. The Duke, the Commander of the Templars, Héderváry the Palatine, and his son Paul, as well as Ugrin, all lay in the King's tent, on carpets, dozing, but not sleeping, while the King merely put off his armour, and stretched himself on the camp bedstead for an hour or two.
All was still save for the wind, and in the intervals between the gusts nothing was to be heard but some terrific snores, and the stamping of the horses.
Now and again those who were fully awake thought they heard shouts of merriment, showing that there were still some not too tired to be amusing themselves; then the wind roared again, and all other sounds were lost.