ngerous.

_It is time I had a woman._

When a man went without the delights of the bedchamber for too long, he
became too susceptible to the cleverness of beautiful women.

It had been four months since that last night in El Kahira when his
wife, Baibars's favorite daughter, Blossoming Reed, had kept him awake
all night with her devouring love, not caring that he must begin a great
journey the following day--yes, _because_ he was leaving her.

He remembered the words she had said to him when she gave him the locket
just before the battle of the Well of Goliath. _Take for your pleasure
as many women as you like. But love always and only me. For if you do
love another, I promise you that your love will destroy both her and
you._

It would be best if he went to Tilia Caballo's brothel and enjoyed a
woman he was not so likely to fall in love with.

* * * * *

Daoud strode through the crowded streets at dusk, enjoying the golden
light that fell on the upper stories of the yellow houses of Orvieto.
His scarlet cape blew out behind him, and out of the corner of his eye
he saw heads turn to follow his passage. He walked close to the houses
on his right, keeping away from the ruts and the rivulets of sewage in
the center of the street. Men stepped into the filth, making way for
him. He was bigger and better dressed than anyone he met, and a new
sword with a jeweled hilt swung at his belt. The glances he caught from
the short, dark men of Orvieto were not friendly.

_They think I am a Frank, and like Sophia they hate Franks._

Pigs rooted in garbage in the quintane, the narrow spaces between the
houses. Small dogs ran under his feet. What backward, unsanitary people
these Europeans were! The sights and smells of Orvieto made him wish for
the paved streets of El Kahira, where every day an army of slaves swept
and cleared away refuse.

The cardinal had drawn a map of Orvieto for him, showing the principal
streets and the way to Tilia's house. Daoud had committed the map to
memory, using the concentration technique Saadi had taught him. Most of
the streets had no names. He would have to find his way by landmarks. In
the days to come, he planned, he would explore and add to the map in his
mind until he knew every street in Orvieto.

The house of Tilia Caballo stood on a street that was wider than most
at the east end of town. Even though Ugolini had described it as
ordinary-looking, Daoud w