splendid robes at the side of the field. Now that the deed was done and
could not be undone, he dreaded facing these two mighty judges.

_Baibars is a Kipchaq, but it was Baibars who bought me for the
Mamelukes_, Daoud thought. _I wonder which will mean more to him this
day._

Baibars and Qutuz sat side by side on cushions in the shade of a silken
canopy. Baibars wore an egret's plume, symbol of valor, on his green
turban. His wide, harsh mouth was tight under the red mustache, his good
eye as empty of feeling as the blind one that was crossed by a vertical
saber scar.

_Beneficent God, if I must die for what I have done, let it be a quick
and clean death. And then I will join Nicetas._

El Malik al-Mudhaffar Qutuz, Sultan of El Kahira, a Mameluke of a
Kurdish tribe, was somewhat older than Baibars. His face was
criss-crossed with tiny wrinkles. His beard, greased so that it jutted
like the prow of a galley, was such a flat black that it must surely be
dyed. He wore a large black turban and full black robes with gold
embroidery.

Daoud fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the sultan.

"Get up and take off your cap," said Qutuz without preliminary. Daoud
rose to his feet, lifting his cap from his head.

"Look at that blond hair," said Qutuz wonderingly. "I thought he had the
look of a Frank about him, Bunduqdari."

"I could have told you that," said Baibars flatly. "He belongs to me. He
is known as Daoud ibn Abdallah. His parents were Franks. We took him
when we freed Ascalon." He talked to Qutuz, Daoud noted, as if they were
equals.

Baibars turned his one eye on Daoud. "Why did you do this?" he said
softly. "You are not a fool, and you would not kill out of foolishness."

"Effendi, he killed my friend," said Daoud, making himself stand
straight and look levelly at Baibars. The emir might sentence him to
death, but he would show himself a true Mameluke. He would not cringe or
beg. He would honor Nicetas.

"How do you know?"

Daoud told Baibars how he had found Nicetas in the desert and what he
had said to him. He kept his voice level, trying not to let his fear
show.

"You should have reported this to me!" shouted Naqeeb Mahmoud, his white
beard quivering. The naqeeb would bear some blame, Daoud thought, for
this breach of discipline.

But Daoud only turned to him and threw his own words back at him, "Among
Mamelukes, he who is strongest rules."

Perhaps he should not be so defiant, he t