sert rats!" came Mahmoud's voice. He
pushed 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 the
emir'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 I
will 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, Daoud
thought. But perhaps he knew what he was doing.

That night, without anyone's saying any more, Nicetas brought his tent
and his bedding to Daoud. They compared tents and decided that Daoud's
was the larger. They would sleep in it.

After they had tended their ponies and joined with the rest of the troop
in the final prayer of the night, they crawled into the tent and spread
their bedding side by side. Daoud felt Nicetas moving in his half of the
tent and heard a rustling, as if his new tent mate were shedding his
clothes. 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 even
closer and stroked Daoud's chest, arousing pleasant tingles. Daoud felt,
keener than ever, the powerful longings that had been troubling him. But
then he remembered cruel Turkish laughter and rough hands, the
unbearable pain and shame of his first nights of captivity. He struggled
to free himself from Nicetas's arms.

All at once Nicetas let go of him and turned over, leaving a small space
in 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 bare
shoulder, his fingers tightened of their own volition. Nicetas drew
closer again, until their bodies were pressed together.

"Ah, Daoud!" Nicetas whispered.

After they had made love, Daoud thought, _Perhaps God sent Nicetas to
me_.

Fearing that the thought might be blasphemous, he put it out of his mind
and fell into a sated sleep.

* * * * *

Daoud, Sophia, Celino, and the boy came to a riverbank. They had ridden
in silence for so long that the moon's crescent hung low in the western
sky, casting a glow on rippling water. Daoud called a halt and sat
gazing at the Tiber. _Next to the Bhar al-Nil, the river Nile, this is
the most famous river in