"Your servant Giancarlo--Rachel calls him Lorenzo--helped Rachel escape from Anjou's camp," Friar Mathieu said. "He left us. He saw Simon's army coming and wanted to warn you. We left the cart and wandered around the edge of the battle looking for refuge. We saw your banner here, Simon.

You must protect this girl."

Daoud reached out to de Gobignon. "Find Sophia."

Friar Mathieu knelt next to Rachel, who moved aside to make room for him.

Daoud said, "Father, when I am too weak to talk, put your fingers under the collar of my tunic. You will find a small leather packet tied around my neck. Take it off and give it to Rachel." He moved his head slightly to see Rachel better. "It is a talisman made by the Sufis, Rachel. It is called a tawidh. If it would not offend your faith, I would like you to have it as a remembrance of me."

Rachel laid her hand on Daoud's and repeated the unfamiliar word.

"Tawidh. I will treasure it always, and give it to my children."

Friar Mathieu said, "I heard what you told Simon about your past. You were baptized a Christian, Daoud. In G.o.d's eyes you are still a Christian. You must confess that you have sinned, and you must renounce Islam before you die, or you will not be saved. Your Christian mother and father are waiting for you in heaven. Come, I can give you absolution."

Daoud shook his head, smiling. How kind this man was, but how sadly misguided.

"Saved? Of course I am saved. When a warrior dies fighting in defense of the faith, G.o.d welcomes him with open arms into paradise. I do ask your blessing. You are a holy man. And I ask your forgiveness for throwing you down those stairs."

"That was you!" De Gobignon's eyes widened.

"Of course. I wish I could tell you all the things I have done, good and bad. I have had a life of many miracles."

De Gobignon's face hardened. "You killed Alain."

Daoud hoped the realization would not turn de Gobignon against him.

Sophia's life might depend on the count's forgiving him.

"Have I not admitted that I waged secret war on you in Orvieto? Yes, I killed your friend. I later was sorry I had done it, but he could have exposed me. I hurt Friar Mathieu. But I could not kill--a priest. All the things that thwarted you in Orvieto--they were my doing."

"I hate you for those things. For Alain especially."

"The princes of Europe and the Tartars would put countless men, women, and children to the sword. They still may do it. That is what I came here to fight against. To save my people."

De Gobignon shook his head. "How can you feel they are your people? You were not born a Muslim."

"Nor was Muhammad. May G.o.d commend and salute him. My faith is the faith of the homeless, the uprooted, the exiled. The Prophet said, _Islam began in exile and it will end in exile_."

Friar Mathieu's bearded face and anxious blue eyes seemed to float over Daoud. "You lie there, defeated, dying. Charles has conquered Manfred.

Does this not mean that your faith has failed you?"

"Whatever G.o.d's purpose has been for me, I have accomplished it. G.o.d may destroy unworthy bearers of the truth, but the truth He will not destroy."

"Do you think yourself unworthy?"

"I hope I have not been. I have tried to be a good slave to G.o.d. That is what the word Mameluke means--slave."

_I have wandered in the desert and now I am going to the watering place._

He wanted to say more, but there was no strength in his breath. The silver globe was cracking like an egg, and a black, irresistible tide of pain was pouring out.

"Take the tawidh from around my neck, Father," he whispered.

He felt fingers at his collar, and after a moment the thong slid free.

_Make me to die submissive unto Thee and join me to the righteous. I bear witness that there is no G.o.d but G.o.d and I bear witness that Muhammad is His servant and Messenger. Amin!_

He could not hold the pain back. He could escape it only in sleep. He could not see Friar Mathieu or Simon de Gobignon or Rachel. His eyes were closing. He would dream of Sophia.

Rachel clutched the leather capsule desperately, as if by holding it tightly enough she could keep Daoud alive. She felt her sorrow crushing her as if it were a great stone pillar pressing down from the sky. She touched his cheek with her fingertips, and his face felt still as stone, and she knew the life had gone out of him.

She sat back and tied the Muslim amulet around her neck, as she had seen it tied around his. Then she dug the fingers of both hands into the silk of her gown, near the collar, and pulled at it until it tore.

She put her hands over her face and let darkness sweep over her mind as sobs shook her and her tears fell.

LXX

Terror filled the little room like a pool of icy water. Soon, Sophia thought, terror would drown them.

The worst for her was not knowing whether Daoud was alive or dead.

_Before dawn I had him here in this bed. Now after sunset I have no idea where he is._

Sophia lay back on the bed, while Tilia sat on cushions laid over Sophia's traveling chest. Ugolini sat in an armchair reading--trying to read, Sophia suspected--a leather-bound book by the light of a candle in a bra.s.s holder standing on the arm of the chair. Only the yellow gleam of the candle and the reddish light of a low fire on the hearth illuminated the room. From the shadows along the wall, the icon of Saint Simon stared at her.

She wondered whether she should have spoken to Daoud of what she had come to suspect. Her time of the month, regular as the moon itself since she was a girl, was over six weeks late. It seemed the brew of myrrh, juniper berries, and powdered rhubarb Tilia had concocted for her, and which she had drunk faithfully every morning for six months, might have finally done its work.

She wanted Daoud to know, though she was not sure whether he would be pleased. He had never said that he had any children. She wanted to be sure she was truly carrying his child before she told him. Tilia had advised her to wait until at least twelve weeks had gone by without an issue of blood.

But now it hurt her that she had not told him. It would have been another parting gift she could have given him.

Darkness had fallen. The foreboding quiet of Benevento was broken by shouts in the distance, growing louder as they came closer.

She heard a scream from the street. A woman's voice, shrill with fear.

She shut her eyes and shuddered. Another scream, this time a man's voice and full of agony.

Sophia's body grew colder. She looked at Ugolini and saw that he was trembling.

It was not just terror that was making her cold. The fire was burning too low. She got up and laid two more split logs on it.

Back on the bed, she reached into the neck of her gown and pulled on the long silver chain, drawing out the locket Daoud had given her. She twisted the screw and opened it and stared for a moment at the engraved, interlocking arabesque pattern.

Then Daoud's face superimposed itself, and the pattern disappeared. It was not a picture of him; it _was_ Daoud, as if she were seeing him through an open window. It was magic, and it frightened her. She had never before encountered magic. His face was alive, though it did not move. His blue eyes seemed to look right at her. She never quite caught him blinking, but it seemed as if he might have, just a moment ago. He appeared about to speak to her. Just as the fresh logs on the fire made the room warmer, so her terror subsided at the sight of him.