was then much like this
city is now--its glory shrunken and faded, but still the center of our
faith, as Rome is the center of Christendom."

Sophia was taken aback at his casual error.

"Rome is the center of _Latin_ Christendom," she said sharply.

"Ah, how could I have neglected Constantinople and the Greek Church?" He
smiled. The smile lit his deeply tanned face in a way that surprised
her, held her gaze. She felt a warmth.

_How smooth and brown his skin is._

"You must never forget Constantinople," she admonished him with a small
smile.

"I spent a month in Constantinople some years ago--that was the other
imperial city--and I shall not forget it." This made her feel warmer
still toward him.

Then his smile faded. "Your city, too, has suffered at the hands of
barbarians--the Franks, who would destroy us."

_Destroy us?_ she repeated in her mind. _Is he not a child of those
Frankish barbarians?_

On the road from Lucera to Rome, he had told her--in a brusque fashion,
as if he were speaking of someone other than himself--the story of his
childhood and how he came to be a Mameluke. She found it hard to believe
that he spoke of the killing of his parents and his enslavement by the
Saracens as if it were some kind of blessing--but she had no doubt that
he was a believing Muslim through and through.

"Do you never think of yourself as a Frank, David?"

He smiled again. "Never. And I hope you will not think of me as one
either. Because I know you must hate Franks."

Hate Franks? Dread them was closer to the truth. Last night, when they
fought their way free of those people from the inn, she had remembered
the terror she had known as a girl in Constantinople. It was the return
of that terror that had given her the strength to smash a jug over that
horrid woman's head.

She was about to reply to David when Scipio broke into loud barking.
David frowned at the sight of something ahead. The Tiber made a sharp
bend, and beyond that, on the opposite bank, towered a huge fortress, a
great cylinder of age-browned marble--Castel Sant' Angelo.

At the base of the citadel was a bridge, and Lorenzo was crossing it.
She knew him even from this distance by his purple cap and brown cloak.

Sophia had expected to see Lorenzo return alone. It gave her a little
start of surprise to see that Rachel was still with him, still riding
their spare horse.

David angrily muttered something that Sophia guessed must be an Arabic