by Robert Shea
VIII
The clatter of four horses' hooves over the broken paving stones of theAppian Way rang in Daoud's ears. He heard shouts behind him as the menfrom the Ox's Head organized a pursuit. And beside him the old man, helderect by Celino's powerful arm, groaned again and again as the wild ridejolted his stomach wound. His legs dangled lifelessly on either side ofthe horse.
Daoud looked over his shoulder and saw that the boy was keeping up,riding next to Celino. His robes were hiked up and his skinny, bare legsgleamed in the faint moonlight. Daoud could hear him sobbing loudly, intime with his father's groans, as the horses pounded onward.
Glancing over at Sophia, on his right, he saw that she was stiff in thesaddle, like one not used to riding, and the moonlight showed her lipstight and her jaw clenched. But she rode hard and made no complaint. Shesat astride, wearing trousers under a divided skirt. Daoud felt himselfadmiring her. So far the woman had proved no burden. Celino had causedtrouble, but not she.
Glancing quickly again at her profile, outlined by moonlight, herealized with a start that she reminded him of a face he had not seen inmany years. Nicetas. She had the same high forehead and long, straightnose. Her mouth was fuller, but her lips had the chiseled shape ofNicetas's lips. Nicetas. Even amid this moment's perils sorrow grippedhis heart for the one who was lost and could never be recovered.
As if she sensed him looking at her, Sophia turned her face toward him,but this put her face in shadow, and he could not make out herexpression. He shrugged and looked away.
He rode with one hand holding the arbalest across the saddle in front ofhim, the other on the reins, guiding his mount. The horses Manfred hadgiven them ran well, aided a little by the high crescent moon. Daoudtried to maneuver his small party to skirt dark patches in the roadwhere there might be holes in the pavement that could trip them.
The cries of the pursuers were louder, and Daoud heard hoofbeats behindthem. He looked back and saw a dark cluster of horsemen rushing down theroad. Five or six men, he guessed. There could not have been many morehorses than that stabled at the inn.
He felt no fear for himself. The country might be strange to him, butriding and fighting in darkness were not. But his stomach tensed withworry about the four people with him. One of them was already badlyhurt. Could he get them away safely? They were in his care now, and itwas a duty.
Celino was the only one of his charges who could look out for himself.And he, thought Daoud angrily, was the one who had least deserved tosurvive.
_But he is carrying half the accursed jewels._
_If we survive this, it might be best for me to kill Celino._
As they rode on, Daoud kept glancing over his shoulder. Their pursuerswere gaining on them. Celino's horse, carrying two riders, was holdingDaoud's party back. But that meant the men from the inn would soon bewithin the arbalest's short range. He had only three bolts left in thebox under the stock. He wished he had a heavy Turkish bow, the kind hehad used at the battle of the Well of Goliath. Almost as powerful as acrossbow, it was easier to handle on horseback and would shoot muchfarther.
_Now they will see how Mamelukes fight._
His eyes were now completely adjusted to the faint moonlight. The roadtook them into a deep pine wood. They splashed through a puddle in a lowplace, then clambered up a slope.
Down the other side. At the bottom of the next slope, Daoud twistedaround in the saddle. Letting go of the reins and guiding the horse withhis knees, he aimed the crossbow at the top of the hill. When the firstrider came over the crest, clearly visible in the moonlight, Daoudpressed the catch with his thumb and released the bolt. An instant laterthe man fell without a sound.
He told himself a warrior of God should not rejoice at the death of anenemy, but he could not help a small surge of satisfaction at his goodshooting.
Daoud cranked the string back and another bolt snapped into place. Hehit the next man on the downslope. It was a harder shot, and this mandid not die instantly but toppled screaming out of the saddle.
After glancing forward to make sure of the road ahead, Daoud turnedagain and saw that the three remaining men had stopped, their horsesmilling around the fallen men. They would give up pursuit now, Daoud wassure of it. Doubtless none of them had any real weapons, and they couldnot contend with a crossbow.
He felt his lips stretch in a grin, and he sighed deeply with relief. Hehad been more worried than he realized.
He and his companions topped another hill, and when he looked back againtheir pursuers had disappeared below its crest.
Daoud raised his hand and called out, "Slow down to a trot. No one seemsto be following us. We can be easier on the old man and the horses."
"And on Scipio," Celino said, pointing down to a great shadow racingwith them along the side of the road. Daoud could hear the hound pantingand his claws drumming on the paving stones. He wondered how long Scipiocould keep up with galloping horses, then reminded himself that this wasa hunting dog. Scipio could probably outrun horses.
"Soon the Appian Way will take us to the old walls of Rome," saidCelino. "The watchmen there would question us. But we can go off to theleft toward the Tiber and skirt the city."
_And because Celino knows such things, I cannot kill him. But I must seeto it that he never again does anything like this to endanger us._
As they rode on, Daoud realized that the old man had stopped moaning. Heheard Celino whispering something that sounded like a prayer.
"How fares the old man?"
Celino sounded angry. "He's dead."
On the other side of Celino the boy let out a wail of anguish, and thensobbed bitterly. Daoud felt a surge of grief. He was not sure whether itwas for the boy or for himself.
"We should leave his body behind," he said to Celino. "Going this fast,that horse cannot carry both of you much farther." Anger at all thisuseless trouble constricted his throat and made his voice husky.
The boy cried, "No!" It was almost a scream.
"I can manage," said Celino.
"I will not leave him!" the boy shouted.
Sophia whispered, "I wish we had never seen them--without our help, theymight only have been robbed. That poor boy!"
Celino clenched his fist and muttered to himself. Then he looked up andmotioned to Daoud, pointing out a road diverging westward from theAppian Way. Daoud jerked the reins of his horse, and the hooves nolonger rang on old Roman paving stones but thudded on hard-packed dirt.The trees closed together overhead, and they rode for a time in almosttotal darkness.
Celino dropped back now, and Daoud, glancing over his shoulder a littlelater, saw the boy and Celino in conversation as they rode side by side.After they had gone a mile or so, Celino rode back to join Daoud andSophia. The old man's body was draped over his horse's back in front ofhim.
"You have much to answer to me for," Daoud said.
"I know that," said Celino. "But as long as we are out of Rome bymorning, we are safe. The Giudecca, the Jewish quarter, is along theTiber on the south side of the city. We can leave the boy with them andthey will help him bury his father and take him in. It is not far fromhere." Daoud could not see his face clearly in the dark, but there was anote of pleading in his tone.
"How far?" Daoud demanded.
"We will be there long before dawn."
"But then we will have to go into the city," Daoud said. "How do weexplain to the Roman watchmen why we are carrying an old man, dead of aknife wound? Surely they will be at least as thorough in inspectingbaggage as you were at Lucera."
Celino was silent a moment. "You two can cross a bridge that will takeyou west of the city. I will take the old man's body and the boy to theGiudecca, and I will be the only one who will have to deal with thewatch."
Sophia spoke up. "As you dealt with those ruffians at the inn? Then wewill have all of Rome hunting us."
"All of Rome?" Celino chuckled. "The Romans can agree on only onething--fighting among themselves. There are powerful Ghibellino familieshere who will pro
tect us if need be."
He needed this damned Lorenzo, Daoud thought, because of his connectionswith the Ghibellini.
"How did the men at the inn know the old man was a Jew?" Daoud askedCelino.
"The hat he was wearing," Celino said. "All Jews are required to wearthose round black hats in the Papal States. To make it easier for goodChristians to persecute them." Daoud shook his head. Even Christianswere treated better than that in al-Islam.
_I did not know. Somehow, out of all that I learned about the Christianworld, that detail about hats for Jews was left out. A little thing, tootrivial to be mentioned. What other deadly little omissions lie in waitfor me?_
He felt like a man in chains. He would have to keep Celino with him, andthe prospect infuriated him.
As they continued riding westward, Daoud heard the boy weeping. It madehim think of nights in the Mameluke barracks on Raudha Island when helay on his pallet, biting his knuckles so no one would hear him sob ashe cried for his mother and father and for himself so lost and lonely.
_I will help the boy bury his father. If it does not endanger us._
This boy, too, was lost and lonely. As Daoud had been while training tobe a Mameluke.
As Nicetas had been.
* * * * *
It had been a chilly day, the day that Daoud and Nicetas became friends.
Huge gray clouds billowed in the east, over the Sinai desert. In the leeof a cliff formed of giant blocks of red sandstone, a dozen small tentsclustered.
On a restless brown pony with a barrel-shaped body, Daoud waited in aline of nearly thirty julbans, Mamelukes in training, similarly mounted.Soon it would be his turn to ride past the wooden ring that a pair ofslaves was swinging from side to side between the legs of a scaffold. Inhis hand Daoud grasped a rumh, a lightweight lance longer than a man'sbody, with a tip of sharpened bone.
On a low rise of brown gravel, Mahmoud, the Circassian naqeeb in chargeof their training troop, sat astride a sleek brown Arab half blood. Helooked almost regal in his long scarlet kaftan and reddish-brown furcap. His beard was full and gray, and a necklace of gold coins hung downto his waist. The boys wore round caps of undyed cotton cloth andstriped robes, and they rode scrubby ponies.
From atop a galloping horse, each boy was expected to hurl his rumhunerringly through the ring, whose diameter was two handspans. The ringwas attached to three strong, slender ropes. One rope suspended it fromthe scaffold; the other two went out to either side, where the slavesheld them. Pulling in turn on the ropes, the two slaves swung the ringfrom side to side.
The boy just ahead of Daoud in line was a new member of the troop ofyoung Mamelukes. His face was smooth and his skin pale, his hair andeyes very black.
He turned to Daoud and said, "What if we hit one of those slaves bymistake?"
Daoud had once seen a slave transfixed by a wild cast of the rumh. Ithurt to remember his screams and thrashings.
"Wound a slave and you will be beaten," he said. "Kill a slave, and yougo without water for three days. In this desert that is a deathsentence."
The boy whistled and shrugged. "Hard punishments for us, but not muchcomfort to the slaves, I'd say."
"It comforts them to know we have reason to be careful," Daoud answered.
After a moment, the boy smiled hesitantly and said, "I am Nicetas. FromTrebizond. Where are you from?"
Daoud rubbed his pony's neck to settle it down. "Ascalon, not far fromhere. I am called Daoud." He saw the puzzlement in Nicetas's face andadded, "My parents were Franks."
"Oh," said Nicetas, and looked sympathetic, as if he had instantlygrasped what had happened to Daoud's mother and father and how he cameto be a Mameluke.
"My mother was a whore," Nicetas said without any sign of embarrassment."She sold me to the Turks when I was eight, and I was glad to go. Shehad sold me for other things before that. This is a good life. You learnto ride and shoot. Mamelukes wear gold, and they lord it over everybodyelse."
Daoud felt a slight easing of the tension of waiting to cast the rumh.He enjoyed talking to this new boy. There was a warmth and liveliness inhim that Daoud liked. And even though their lives had been different,Daoud felt more of a kinship with this boy than he ever had with any ofthe others in his training group.
"Mamelukes have a good life if they live," said Daoud. "Where isTrebizond?"
Nicetas waved his left hand. "North of here. It is a Greek city on theBlack Sea. But I suppose you have never heard of the Black Sea."
"I know where the Black Sea is," said Daoud, somewhat annoyed thatNicetas should think him totally ignorant. "How did you come to join ourorta?"
"I was enrolled in the Fakri, the Mamelukes of Emir Fakr ad-Din. Theemir was killed by the Frankish invaders last year. The older Fakri arestaying together, but the young ones have been transferred out to theother ortas."
Daoud found himself feeling somewhat sorry for Nicetas. He knew howlonely the Greek boy must be. His khushdashiya, his barracks comrades,were the nearest he had to a family. And even at that he was not reallyclose to the other boys. He was the only Frank among them, and to talkto them at all he had to learn their various languages--Turkish, Kurd,Farsi, Circassian, Tartar. They would not bother to learn the NormanFrench, which was still the language he heard in his dreams. Most of theboys slept two by two in the field, but Daoud had no close friend toshare a tent with.
"Go!" shouted Mahmoud the Circassian to Nicetas.
The Greek boy stood up in the saddle, and rode down the field with awarbling scream that was a perfect imitation of a Bedouin war cry. Histrousers billowed against his long legs. Daoud watched his handsome,straight-nosed profile as he turned to fix his eyes on the swingingtarget. The lean-muscled bare arm drew back and snapped forward. Thelong black pole of the rumh whistled through the air, shot smoothlythrough the ring and landed upright, quivering, in the dune beyond it.
Daoud heard murmurs of appreciation around him. At the naqeeb's next cryof, "Go!" Daoud kicked his pony in the ribs and plunged forward to tryhis own cast.
He tried to ignore the fear of missing that knotted his belly muscles,tried not to think at all about his desperate need to make a good cast.
He guided his mount with the pressure of his knees. He squinted his eyesagainst the wind of his rush and fixed them on the ring. His body movedup and down with the action of the horse, and the ring swung back andforth. He twisted sideways in the saddle, steadying himself with onehand on the pony's back. Grasping the rumh at the middle so that itbalanced, he lifted it high over his head. The little horse's musclesrippled under his palm. If he fixed his gaze and his aim on the point inspace that the ring occupied at the lowest point of its arc, andreleased his rumh just as the ring reached the extremity of its swing,the target and rumh should arrive together.
The pony had carried him opposite the ring now, and he took a deepbreath and whipped his arm forward.
His lance reached the right spot--an instant too late. He wanted tothrow himself down from his horse and weep with frustration.
He heard groans and curses from behind him. Not once this morning hadthe troop had a perfect round. He rode around to the back of thescaffold, where the two slaves were sitting until the next boy shouldtake his turn. The ghulmans kept their eyes down, their black facesexpressionless. Angrily he yanked his rumh out of the sand and rode backto the end of the line.
Nicetas patted his arm reassuringly. Two more boys missed after Daoud,and that also made him feel a bit better. It occurred to Daoud thatNicetas was one of the few who had not once missed the ring thatmorning. He was a good horseman and seemed to have a remarkably keen eyewith the rumh.
The only other boy in the troop who was that good, Daoud thought, wasKassar, the Kipchaq Tartar. Daoud looked around for Kassar and saw himsitting on his pony partway out of line, eyeing Nicetas sourly. Kassar'shead was round, his face flat, and he was already old enough to havegrown a small black mustache.
"From now on," the naqeeb bellow
ed from his hilltop, "anyone who missesonce will not eat today. Anyone who misses twice will sleep in thedesert tonight without tent or blankets."
Nicetas, who was wearing a long, sleeveless robe, grinned and shookhimself. "It will be cold out there tonight."
"What if someone misses a third time, naqeeb?" someone called out.
"He is no longer Mameluke," said Mahmoud in a soft voice that carried."He goes back to El Kahira. To be a ghulman for the rest of his life."
He would kill himself first, Daoud thought. He would plunge his daggerinto his own heart before he would let that happen to him.
A frozen silence fell over the troop. The only sound Daoud could hearwas the desert wind hissing past his ears. But he felt the fear allaround him just as he felt the wind.
Mahmoud's threat seemed to help the troop's marksmanship. Only one boymissed in the next round. In that round and the one that followed,Daoud's rumh flew true both times. The second time, he felt dizzy withrelief, and he leaned forward and hugged his horse's neck as he rodeback to his place.
One more round and they could rest. Daoud's body ached, especially hisback and his arms. He felt a clenching in his stomach, knowing that hehad to get his lance through the ring this time. His khushdashiya wouldhate him, and he would hate himself, if he missed. And the more hefeared missing, the more he would be likely to miss.
"Never mind hitting a slave," said Nicetas just before his turn. "Do usall a favor, hit the naqeeb."
Daoud laughed. Nicetas rode out and hit the target as usual. Feelingless tense, Daoud rode out to make his third cast. He held his breathuntil he saw his long lance sail smoothly through the dark-rimmedcircle.
He shouted with joy and turned his mount back toward the troop. He didnot hug his horse this time. Laughing, he rode up beside Nicetas, threwhis arms around him, and pulled the skinny body against his largerframe. Nicetas's eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked into his whenDaoud let him go.
It turned out to be another perfect round, and Mahmoud declared theycould stop to pray and eat.
_Thank God!_ Daoud said fervently to himself.
The sun had crossed from the zenith to the western part of the sky.Mahmoud led them in reciting the prayers, facing south toward Mecca.Then each julban took a portion of stale bread and dry goat cheese froma pouch hanging from his saddle, and a single draft from his water skin.The swallow of warm water Daoud took tasted foul, but he had to fightdown the impulse to drink more. He sat down before his small tent toeat.
"May I sit with you?" Daoud squinted up into the sun to see the Greekboy standing over him.
"Please," said Daoud, gesturing to the sand beside him.
They ate in silence for a time. Daoud looked up from the hard bread hewas relentlessly chewing and saw Nicetas smiling at him. He smiled back.
"You were eating by yourself," Nicetas said. "Do you sleep alone, too?"Daoud nodded.
"Would you like to have a tent mate?"
Before Daoud could answer, a shadow fell over them. Daoud looked up.Kassar stood between them and the sun, half a dozen of his friendsaround him. He glowered down at Nicetas.
"You think you are good?"
Nicetas's smile was friendly. "It is in the blood. Greeks are good atgames."
"You throw like a girl," Kassar said to Nicetas. The Kipchaq's followerslaughed dutifully.
Daoud felt his face burn with anger. He wanted to say something onNicetas's behalf, even though it was the rule that each boy must defendhimself.
Nicetas, still smiling pleasantly and looking quite unafraid, stood upwith lithe grace to face Kassar.
"My rumh pierces the target," he said, making a circle with thumb andforefinger and pushing his other forefinger into it. "You have to be aman to do that."
This time the laughter was spontaneous, but Kassar did not smile.
"I will bet with you that I can throw the rumh better than you can,"said Kassar grimly. "I will make you a handsome bet. I will put up themail shirt that I took from a Frankish knight at Mansura."
Daoud felt the sting of envy. If he had only been a year or two older,he, too, might have souvenirs of that battle.
"I possess nothing of value," said Nicetas. "What can I put up againstyour mail shirt?"
Grinning, Kassar stepped closer to the Greek, bringing his face downtill Nicetas's sharp-pointed nose almost touched his flat one. "You willspend the night in my tent whenever I want you." His thick fingersgripped Nicetas's chin, kneading the flesh of his face.
Nicetas blushed and pulled away, rubbing his chin, but still he smiled."If your hand is that rough, I do not wonder you need a new tent mate."
This time the boys all roared with laughter, and Kassar's eyes narrowedto angry slits.
Daoud had never before heard anyone speak openly of what all the boyswere aware of but only whispered about. For more than a year Daoud hadseen and felt his body changing and had been tormented by steadilygrowing needs within himself. He sensed that others of his khushdashiyawere tormented by the same nearly unbearable hungers. He knew, fromlistening to the talk of older men, that the answer to all theseyearnings lay in women. But julbans were forbidden the company of women.He quickly learned how to relieve himself in solitude, and suspectedmany of the others did the same. But some, he was sure, made use of eachother's bodies.
"I accept the contest," said Nicetas, staring fearlessly into Kassar'seyes.
"We must go to the naqeeb for permission," said Kassar. "But we will nottell him the stakes. He might get ideas about you." He grinned atNicetas with such frank lasciviousness that Daoud, remembering how hiscaptors had raped him years ago, wanted to smash his fist into theTartar's big white teeth.
He followed Nicetas and Kassar as they went to Mahmoud's large silk tentand explained the contest.
"Yes," said Mahmoud, leading the way back to the practice field. "Putthe one-handspan ring on, and you will ride fifty paces from the target.You will cast until one of you misses and the other follows with a hit.If both of you miss, you will be beaten for disturbing my rest."
The slaves changed the two-handspan target ring for the smaller one andbegan pulling on the guide ropes that swung the ring from side to side.The naqeeb paced off the distance for Kassar and Nicetas.
At Mahmoud's command, Kassar rode down the field. He made a perfectcast, and his friends cheered. It was Nicetas's turn, and he flew pastthe target with his warbling scream, standing in the stirrups. There wassomething dance-like in the way he stood swaying with the joltingmovement of his pony, left arm outstretched to balance himself, rumhpoised to throw.
_He is beautiful_, Daoud thought.
Nicetas's rumh went perfectly through the ring. The cheer for him waslower; after all, nobody knew him.
Daoud called out, "God guides your arm, Nicetas!" Some of the other boysstared at him, and his face grew hot.
Both contestants made successful second casts. But when Kassar made histhird throw, Daoud saw the ring wobble slightly. The rumh must havebrushed its inner edge. Nicetas's third try, once again, was flawless.
"We cannot be at this till sunset," Mahmoud grumbled. "Move out toseventy paces." He paced off the new distance, and Kassar and Nicetas,stone-faced, not looking at each other, rode to the spot he pointed out.
To throw the rumh accurately from that distance would take greatstrength as well as a keen eye, Daoud thought. Looking at Nicetas'sslender arms and narrow shoulders, he wondered if the Greek boy couldmanage it.
A wind rose, stinging Daoud's face with tiny sand particles. It wasblowing from the east, across the field where the boys rode. Nicetaswould be lucky to get his lance anywhere near the scaffold.
At Mahmoud's barking command, Kassar galloped out across the field. Hehalf rose as he came abreast of the target, and Daoud saw his powerfulshoulder muscles bunch under his thin robe.
There was a loud crack as Kassar's rumh hit the ring. Daoud saw blackfragments fly though the air. He gasped in surprise.
Kassar's lance had hit the side of the t
arget ring, and the desert-driedwood had shattered under the impact.
"Well." Mahmoud turned to Nicetas with a laugh. "The target isdestroyed."
"Let us put another ring on," said Nicetas promptly, just as Kassar rodeup.
Kassar's face was tight with fury. "The rings are different sizes. Itwill not be fair if you have a bigger ring to hit."
"I want a smaller ring," said Nicetas with a faint smile.
Mahmoud sent a boy galloping to the target pullers with the order toattach a new ring to the ropes. From where he stood, Daoud could noteven see daylight through the new ring. In the distance he saw awhirlwind raising a cone of sand, a sand devil, spinning near the redcliff.
"Think that there is a crusader charging at you, and you have to hit himin the eye to stop him," Mahmoud suggested to Nicetas.
"If it were, I would not let him get close enough for me to _see_ hiseye," said Nicetas dryly.
"Go!" Mahmoud roared.
Nicetas screamed across the field. The rumh flew.
Daoud cried out in amazement as the lance, no bigger than a splinter atthis distance, shot perfectly through the ring.
Joy was a white light momentarily blinding Daoud. His heart was beatingas hard and fast as if it had been he who had made the cast.
"Nicetas! Yah, Nicetas!" he cheered.
Loud cries of admiration went up. Nicetas retrieved his rumh and wavedit over his head, standing in the stirrups as he rode back to the troop.
He jumped down from his horse, and Kassar, already dismounted, went tomeet him. Kassar's heavy walk, his clenched fists, the rage in his face,told Daoud there was going to be trouble.
He felt hot anger surging up inside him, but he reminded himself againthat Nicetas must fight his own battles.
The boys surrounded Kassar and Nicetas, the naqeeb with his green turbanin their midst. Daoud pushed himself into the innermost circle.
"Bring me the mail shirt," said Nicetas.
"_I_ won," Kassar declared, glowering down at him. "I smashed the ring,a thing you are too weak to do." He looked away from Nicetas and movedhis head from side to side, glaring around the circle of boys,challenging any of them to contradict him. No one spoke. No one wantedto quarrel with Kassar, especially on behalf of a boy no one knew.
Daoud felt angry words rushing up inside him, but he kept himself incheck. To take up Nicetas's quarrel unasked would insult Nicetas. Ifthings got too far out of hand, the naqeeb would intervene.
Daoud felt himself abruptly pushed to one side. He turned to protest,and then checked himself. It was Mahmoud, leaving the circle thatsurrounded Nicetas and Kassar. As Daoud watched in amazement, thegray-bearded naqeeb walked to his red-and-white-striped tent and satdown cross-legged on the carpet in front of it, calmly gazing at thesandstone cliffs as if what was going on did not concern him at all.
_He should be the one to declare Nicetas the winner_, Daoud thought, asangry now as he was astonished. _Is he, too, afraid of Kassar?_
"When you broke the ring, that was a miss," said Nicetas. "You lost. Theshirt is mine."
"You will have to take it from me," said Kassar with a grin. "Come to mytent and you can wrestle me for it." Now he made the gesture encirclinghis forefinger that Nicetas had made before.
What would Nicetas do, Daoud wondered. He was not big enough to hurtKassar--but if he yielded, Kassar would make a slave of him and subjecthim to abominations.
"I had heard that a Tartar never goes back on his word," said Nicetas."I see now that at least one Tartar is a lying jackal."
_Good!_ Daoud thought fiercely. In a battle of insults, he felt sure,the talkative Greek would have the upper hand over the dour Tartar.
Kassar reddened, and he smashed his fist into Nicetas's jaw. The Greekboy fell to the ground, and Daoud saw that his eyes were blank, dazed.But Nicetas shook his head and forced himself to his feet.
"Your fist can't restore your honor, Kassar. You have fucked it too manytimes."
Loud laughter burst out from the watching boys, choked off as again theTartar swung, hitting Nicetas in the mouth. The boy was thrown backagainst the onlookers, and blood ran from his nose and mouth.
Daoud felt the blood pounding his temples as his anger grew. As long asit was just Kassar against Nicetas, he could not get into the fight. Butif Kassar's friends joined in, he promised himself he would helpNicetas.
"Take back what you said," Kassar growled, advancing on him.
Daoud could not see Nicetas behind Kassar's bulky form. But suddenlyKassar's head snapped back and his white cap fell off into the sand. TheKipchaq fell back, and Daoud saw that Nicetas was on his feet, grinningthrough the blood and rubbing his knuckles.
"Yah, Nicetas!" he shouted, but he was alone in cheering. He sensedothers looking at him. May they burn in the flames if they did not seethat Nicetas was the better man.
Kassar plowed into Nicetas, pummeling him with both fists. When Nicetascollapsed under the punishment, Kassar kicked him in the head, sendinghim flying backward. Kassar's friends shouted encouragement. Daoud felthis whole body growing hot with anger.
Nicetas rolled over on his stomach, raised himself on hands and knees,and spat blood. His eyes searched the crowd of boys watching him andKassar, and Daoud knew that he was looking for a friend.
"Nicetas!" Daoud cried, and the Greek boy's dazed eyes found him and hisbloody mouth stretched in a grin.
But if Nicetas did not give up, Kassar would kill him.
Suddenly Daoud turned and pushed his way through the crowd and hurriedto where Mahmoud was still sitting.
"Why do you not stop this?" he demanded. "It is your duty to keep orderamong us."
"Do not tell me my duty," said Mahmoud. "Have you forgotten what my canefeels like?"
"You would use the cane on _me_?" Daoud exclaimed, outraged. "WhenKassar is cheating?"
There were a thousand tiny wrinkles around Mahmoud's blue Circassianeyes, from a lifetime of squinting into the sun.
"Daoud, I will tell you what my duty is. My duty is to take miserablejulbans and make Mamelukes of you. When you are a full-fledged Mameluke,there will be no naqeeb over you to right your wrongs. Among Mamelukes,he who is strongest rules. If Kassar is the strongest among you, youmust be ruled by him."
Daoud growled with disgust and ran back to the fight.
Nicetas had somehow gotten back on his feet, though his face was a massof blood and dirt and his breath was coming in gasps. His eyes wereglazed, but he managed to stagger forward and hit Kassar in the nosewith his fist. Blood began to flow from the young Tartar's wide nostrilsinto his mustache.
Kassar put his fingers to his upper lip, took them away and stared atthe blood. His eyes widened in fury. His head swung right and left; thenhe sidestepped to a boy in front of the circle. From the boy's sash hepulled a dabbus, a fluted iron cylinder mounted on a wooden staff.
Swinging the dabbus so it whistled through the air, Kassar charged atNicetas. The boys fell back, opening the circle wider.
For the first time, Daoud saw fear in Nicetas's eyes. He ducked asKassar swung the mace at his head, but his movements were slow andawkward. He had been hit too many times. He fell, stood up, andstaggered backward.
The naqeeb would not interfere. This could end only one way.
And Daoud knew that he did not want to see Nicetas die before his eyes.
He would not allow it.
Only moments ago rage had raised a great storm within him, but now hismind was like the desert after the storm has passed, still and empty.Like the desert, he felt himself full of a terrible power.
Without any more thought he stepped out into the ring behind Kassar andshouted, "Kassar! Enough!"
The Tartar whirled, holding the dabbus at shoulder height.
"Stay out of this, pigshit Frank."
"Let him be, Kassar." Almost all Daoud's attention was on Kassar, but apart of his mind was free to wonder why he felt no fear at all. Somehow,he was not sure how, the hours with Saadi had something to do with
it.
"Put that down," Daoud said, pointing at the dabbus.
"In your head!" Kassar shouted, and charged at him.
Daoud kept his eyes on Kassar's, but in the edge of his vision he sawthe ridged mass of iron, heavy enough to crack a steel helmet, rushingtoward his head--his head protected only by a cloth cap.
At the last possible moment he threw up his hand and caught Kassar'swrist. He stepped back out of the path of the dabbus and jerked downwardon Kassar's arm. The weight of the mace helped throw Kassar off balance,and he landed on his chest with a grunt, the air driven out of him.
Daoud stamped on Kassar's forearm and yanked the dabbus out of hisgrasp. He flung himself down on Kassar and pinned him to the sand.
Though all his attention was on Kassar, there was room in his mind for atriumphant surprise.
_Allahu akbar! God is great! I never thought I had the strength to throwthe Kipchaq._
"Nicetas won the contest. Admit it, or I'll break your skull," hegrowled, holding the dabbus over Kassar's head.
Kassar remained silent. Daoud lowered the dabbus and tapped the Tartar'sround skull through his mop of straight black hair. He hit Kassar justhard enough to let him feel the weight of the dabbus.
"Admit that Nicetas won."
"All right," Kassar grunted, his face in the sand. "He won."
"Swear by the Prophet you will leave him alone from now on."
"I swear," came the muffled voice.
"By the Prophet."
"By the Prophet."
Daoud stood up warily and handed the dabbus back to the boy Kassar hadtaken it from.
Kassar rose slowly, wiping sand from his face. His eyes seemed to sparkwith hatred.
_This is not finished yet_, Daoud thought.
He looked for Nicetas. The Greek boy was on his feet. He was wiping thedirt and blood from his face with the hem of his robe. He looked atDaoud, and there was something bright and solemn in his eyes. No one hadever looked at Daoud like that before.
Daoud felt a great rush of gratitude to God for giving him the strengthto save Nicetas's life.
_If I had not fought Kassar, Nicetas would be dead._
That clean-lined face so full of warmth and wit would be so muchlifeless clay. Daoud felt a lightness in his heart and a smile bubblingto his lips. He was proud of his strength. He had used it to save aprecious life. He was a warrior of God.
Smiling, he went to Nicetas and threw his arm around his shoulders.
He should force Kassar to give Nicetas the mail shirt. But he had doneenough fighting for one day. Nicetas did not need the damned shirt. Letthe Tartar keep it.
"Now then, you wretched sons of desert rats!" came Mahmoud's voice. Hepushed his way into the middle of the ring, coin necklace glittering,eyes flashing in anger.
"Fighting, eh? Trying to kill each other? Save your fighting for theemir's enemies. You are khushdashiya, brother Mamelukes of Emir Baibars.If again I see one of you raise a hand against his brother, I swear Iwill stake him out on the sand." He raised his right hand to heaven."Hear me, God!"
The naqeeb had a strange way of making Mamelukes out of them, Daoudthought. But perhaps he knew what he was doing.
That night, without anyone's saying any more, Nicetas brought his tentand his bedding to Daoud. They compared tents and decided that Daoud'swas the larger. They would sleep in it.
After they had tended their ponies and joined with the rest of the troopin the final prayer of the night, they crawled into the tent and spreadtheir bedding side by side. Daoud felt Nicetas moving in his half of thetent and heard a rustling, as if his new tent mate were shedding hisclothes. Why would he do that on such a cold night?
Nicetas pulled his blankets over both of them and rolled toward Daoud.The Greek boy's skin felt warm and silk-smooth. Nicetas wriggled evencloser and stroked Daoud's chest, arousing pleasant tingles. Daoud felt,keener than ever, the powerful longings that had been troubling him. Butthen he remembered cruel Turkish laughter and rough hands, theunbearable pain and shame of his first nights of captivity. He struggledto free himself from Nicetas's arms.
All at once Nicetas let go of him and turned over, leaving a small spacein the tent between them.
"Sleep well, Daoud." There was hurt in the soft voice.
Remorseful, Daoud reached for his friend. When his hand grasped the bareshoulder, his fingers tightened of their own volition. Nicetas drewcloser again, until their bodies were pressed together.
"Ah, Daoud!" Nicetas whispered.
After they had made love, Daoud thought, _Perhaps God sent Nicetas tome_.
Fearing that the thought might be blasphemous, he put it out of his mindand fell into a sated sleep.
* * * * *
Daoud, Sophia, Celino, and the boy came to a riverbank. They had riddenin silence for so long that the moon's crescent hung low in the westernsky, casting a glow on rippling water. Daoud called a halt and satgazing at the Tiber. _Next to the Bhar al-Nil, the river Nile, this isthe most famous river in the world._
It was wide and flowed fast, judging by the ripples, and looked deep.Looking upriver, he saw that it followed a winding course leading towardblack bulks, lit with yellow lights here and there, that must be greatbuildings. Rome.
They laid the old man's body down on a cracked marble platform besidethe river. Celino had long since pulled the dagger out of the old man'sflesh, and now he handed it to Daoud. The dagger was a well-balancedthrowing knife of good steel, stained with a film of dried blood. Daoudknelt, washed it in the Tiber, and wiped it with the hem of his cloak.He held it out to the boy.
"I do not want it." The boy's face was still wrapped in a blue scarf,but Daoud could see tears glittering on his cheek.
"It is a good knife. You may have need of it now that you have nofather."
"It is the knife that killed him." The boy hesitated. "All right, giveit to me."
Daoud handed it to him, and the boy turned and hurled the knife out overthe river. It flew a short distance, and the splash threw off light likea handful of pearls.
"Well," Daoud said, "no one had a better right to do that than you." Hesmiled to himself. He could understand quite well the lad's feelings.
But there was something odd about the way the boy's arm had moved whenhe threw the knife. Daoud recalled a phrase that he had heard in memorywhile they were riding toward the river.
_You throw like a girl._
That had not been true of Nicetas, but it was true of this boy.
And his voice, though high, was not as light and clear as the voice of achild. Moved by a sudden suspicion, Daoud reached out too quickly forthe boy to draw away and pulled loose the scarf.
He leaned closer for a good look. He heard Celino, standing behind him,grunt with surprise. Revealed in the moonlight was, not a lad whosevoice had not yet changed, but a girl. Her eyelids were puffy from herweeping, but the eyelashes were long and thick, her nose delicate, herlips full. The eyes that looked back at him with a mixture of fear anddefiance were, in this light, black as obsidian. Her hair was coiled ina thick braid at the back of her head, where the scarf had hidden it.
He did not have to ask the reason for the pretense. Traveling with onlyan aged father to protect her, she was far safer as a boy.
Sophia pushed past Daoud and put her arms around the girl, who began tocry again. "You poor child, are you all alone now? There, it's allright. We will help you."
"Who was your father?" said Celino in an equally kindly voice.
"He was not my father," the girl whispered. "He was Angelo Ben Ezra ofFlorence, a seller of books, and he was my husband."
Sophia drew back in surprise, then hugged the girl tighter. "Oh, poorlittle one. So young, and wed to such an old man. How could your parentsdo that to you?"
The girl angrily drew back from Sophia. "Do not speak so! My parentswere good to me--and my husband was. He never touched me. When my motherand father died of tertian fever, he took me in, and he married me
so asnot to give scandal. He taught me to read."
"What is your name, girl?" Celino asked.
"Rachel." She dropped to her knees beside the body stretched out on themarble, and her tears splashed on the white face. She bent over andkissed him.
"He is so cold."
"We must wrap him quickly and be on our way," said Daoud. "We havekilled three people and burned down an inn. I assure you, they havestopped chasing us only for the moment. Celino, I want a word with you.Sophia, help the girl wrap her husband's body so we can travel on."
"I do not need to be commanded," said Sophia sharply as Daoud turned hisback on her, motioning Celino to follow him.
_What in the name of God am I to do with these people?_
Daoud strode across the marble platform and picked his way down a flightof cracked stairs to the edge of the Tiber. He followed a line oftumbled stones, once part of an embankment, until he felt sure Sophiaand the girl could not hear them.
Then he whirled, bringing his face inches from Celino's.
"You fool! I ought to kill you for what you have done."
He heard a soft growl to his right.
"Send your damned dog away," he said, without taking his eyes offCelino.
"Of course," said Celino calmly. "Scipio!" He snapped his fingers. "Tothe horses. Go!"
The hound turned, head and tail lowered, and walked away. But he swunghis long muzzle around to glance back at Daoud as he moved off. Hispupils reflected the moonlight like two silver coins.
"Give me the jewels you're carrying," said Daoud.
"Of course," said Celino again, promptly unbuckling his belt. Daoudtensed himself in case the Sicilian should go for his dagger. But Celinoheld the belt up so that the twelve unset stones--rubies, pearls andamethysts--could roll out of the hidden pocket into Daoud's palm. Daoudadded them to the twelve already in his pouch.
"There, now you have the stones back. And now are you going to try tokill me?"
There was a hint of challenge in that word _try_.
"If I had had all these jewels at the inn, I would have left you forthat crowd to kill. How could you be so stupid as to involve us in atavern quarrel?"
"I am no man's slave," Celino growled. "Not Manfred's, and surely notyours."
_But I am a slave. That is what the very word Mameluke means, and I amproud to be a Mameluke._
"Do you think, Celino," Daoud said softly, "that you are a better manthan I?"
"I think myself better than no man, and no man better than me."
Daoud looked away. _Madman's talk._
Gazing up the river, he noticed a huge round shape bulking against thehorizon, a fortress of some kind. There might be danger from thatdirection.
"Celino, you and Sophia and I are a little army in the land of ourenemies. An army can have only one leader."
Celino nodded. "I know that. But you must understand that if I acceptyou as our leader, it is of my own free will. I am still my own master."
Daoud felt a strange mixture of admiration and uneasiness at this. Hewas painfully aware that among Mamelukes a warrior of Celino's age wouldbe treated with great respect. Indeed, King Manfred clearly held Lorenzoin high esteem. His effort to save the old man had been noble in itsway. But an impulse at the wrong time, even a noble impulse, could meandeath for all of them.
"Does that mean you feel free to disobey me?"
"I have done whatever you wanted up to now. Except for what happened atthe inn. That was different."
"Why different?" Daoud demanded. "You are not a stupid man, Celino. Whydid you do such a stupid thing?"
Celino shook his head and turned away. "Angry as you are at me, Daoud,you cannot be angrier than I am at myself. If I had not intervened, thatman Angelo Ben Ezra might yet be alive and his child-wife not widowed.They might have been hurt, and they surely would have been robbed. But Ido not think those tavern louts would have gone so far as to kill them."
Daoud was astonished that Celino did not even defend his actions.
"Any more than we meant to kill any of those men," Daoud agreed. "But aman of your experience knows that once the sword is drawn, only Godknows who will live or die. Yet you drew your sword against them."
"The old man wandered in out of the night seeking hospitality. Instead,they were beating him, and they were going to take his donkey andeverything he owned and cast him out. Because he was a Jew."
"Yes, you Christians are very cruel to Jews. It is not so in the landsof Islam. But you should be used to seeing such things."
"I am not a Christian, Daoud. I am a Jew myself. And that is why I wentto that old man's aid."
Daoud blinked in surprise, then began to laugh.
"You find that funny?"
"I am just as surprised to find out that you are a Jew as others wouldbe to find out that I am a Muslim." Daoud stopped laughing. "I haveknown many Jews in Egypt. Abd ibn Adam, Sultan Baibars's personalphysician, is a Jew. But why do you not wear the required hat?"
"It is not required in Manfred's kingdom. And I would not wear it onthis mission any more than you would wear a Muslim's turban." ThenCelino laughed. "But if I were to drop my breeches, you would see themark of Abraham."
"I have that as well," said Daoud with a smile. "Muslims are alsocircumcised. I was eleven." He remembered with a twinge the old mullahchanting prayers in Arabic, the knife whose steel looked sharper andcolder than any he had seen before or since.
"Now that mark is all I have left of the religion I was born into,"Celino said.
"What do you mean? Did you convert to Christianity?"
"I told you I am not a Christian. I profess no faith."
Daoud drew back. A man who had no faith at all was somehow less thanhuman.
"You believe in nothing?"
"One of Manfred's Saracen scholars gave me a book by your Arabphilosopher Averroes. In it he taught that there are no spirits, nogods, no angels, no human souls. All things are matter only. That iswhat I believe."
Daoud made a casting-away motion. "I have been taught that Averroes is agreat heretic. Now I see how wise we are not to read him."
"It was life that made me a nonbeliever. Averroes only showed me thatthere are learned men who think likewise."
Daoud shook his head. Baibars would never allow such a man near him.
"Why does your king permit you to have no religion?"
"The truth of it is, he thinks as I do. As his father, Emperor Frederic,did before him. In the kingdom of Sicily under the Hohenstaufens, peoplemay believe as they please, as long as they are discreet about it. Ofcourse, King Manfred must pretend to be a Catholic, or all the hosts ofChristendom would fall upon his kingdom and destroy him. As for me,Manfred trusts me because he knows I do not stand in awe of the pope.The same reason he relies on his Saracen warriors."
Yes, Daoud thought, having no religion might make Celino a more usefulcompanion for a mission like this. But how could Daoud trust a man whohad no faith in a higher power?
"But why did you try to fight for that old man? Look what you have doneto us."
Celino sighed and shook his head. "He was so much like my own father. Icould not help myself."
"That is a poor excuse."
Celino looked steadily into Daoud's eyes. "It may seem so to you. It issaid that Mamelukes scarcely remember their mothers and fathers."
Daoud's body stiffened with rage. Celino's words were a blow that toreopen an old wound.
"You know nothing of that, and for your own safety you had best notspeak of it to me," Daoud said in a choked whisper.
Celino inclined his head. "I ask your forgiveness."
"Remember that if we fail in this mission, it will mean great harm toyour King Manfred, who has been so good to you and raised you so high,"Daoud said.
Celino's head was still lowered in submission. "You are right to remindme of that. I have been foolish."
Daoud gripped Celino's wrist. The Sicilian raised his head and staredinto Daoud's eyes.
Daoud
said, "I must have your oath that this will never happen again.Should you see a hundred Jews having their throats cut, you will smilelike a good Christian and declare the sight pleasing to God."
"I will do my best, Daoud. That is all I can honestly promise you, but Ithink it will be good enough."
_By being honest, as he puts it, he still leaves himself room to defyme._
"And you will obey my commands from now on, as if they came from yourking?"
"You have my word of honor."
_Whatever the honor of an unbeliever is worth. Manfred, what kind of acrazed camel have you foisted off on me?_
Here he was, far across the sea from the only home he had ever known, inthe midst of people who would kill him in an instant if they knew who hewas. And now he felt he could not trust one of the few men he mustdepend upon. He felt a coldness beginning in his palms and spreadingthrough his body as he wondered what further calamities like tonight'smight lie before them.
