rly visible in the moonlight, Daoud
pressed the catch with his thumb and released the bolt. An instant later
the man fell without a sound.

He told himself a warrior of God should not rejoice at the death of an
enemy, but he could not help a small surge of satisfaction at his good
shooting.

Daoud cranked the string back and another bolt snapped into place. He
hit the next man on the downslope. It was a harder shot, and this man
did not die instantly but toppled screaming out of the saddle.

After glancing forward to make sure of the road ahead, Daoud turned
again and saw that the three remaining men had stopped, their horses
milling around the fallen men. They would give up pursuit now, Daoud was
sure of it. Doubtless none of them had any real weapons, and they could
not contend with a crossbow.

He felt his lips stretch in a grin, and he sighed deeply with relief. He
had been more worried than he realized.

He and his companions topped another hill, and when he looked back again
their pursuers had disappeared below its crest.

Daoud raised his hand and called out, "Slow down to a trot. No one seems
to 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 racing
with them along the side of the road. Daoud could hear the hound panting
and his claws drumming on the paving stones. He wondered how long Scipio
could keep up with galloping horses, then reminded himself that this was
a hunting dog. Scipio could probably outrun horses.

"Soon the Appian Way will take us to the old walls of Rome," said
Celino. "The watchmen there would question us. But we can go off to the
left toward the Tiber and skirt the city."

_And because Celino knows such things, I cannot kill him. But I must see
to 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. He
heard 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 then
sobbed bitterly. Daoud felt a surge of grief. He was not sure whether it
was 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 this
useless trouble constricted his throat and made his voice husky.

The boy cr