ht, may also regret this affair."

Ugolini looked accusingly at de Verceuil, who, purple-faced, looked as
if he wished he could tear his little colleague of the Sacred College
limb from limb.

Now Simon de Gobignon, having broken through the circle of onlookers,
declared, "This would not have happened if Friar Mathieu had been here
interpreting for the Tartars, guarding them against indiscretions.
Instead, you found this woman who is altogether ignorant of what is at
stake here. You had her translate for the Tartars because you begrudge
Friar Mathieu his share of the honor of this diplomatic accomplishment.
Except that there will be no accomplishment, because of your bungling."

Tall as de Verceuil was, de Gobignon was taller. Righteous anger made
the French boy's blue eyes flash.

Daoud wanted to laugh aloud at the count's fury and de Verceuil's utter
embarrassment. But he decided he should be too stupidly drunk to
understand what was going on.

"You have no right to criticize me!" de Verceuil shouted.

"Be sure that the Count d'Anjou will hear of this," Simon answered.

_De Verceuil offending Fra Tomasso would be even better than de Verceuil
shouting at de Gobignon. If there were a way I could make that happen.
Sophia, working through de Gobignon?_

Even though his Sufi training helped him keep his mind clear, puzzling
out this new idea was beyond his present powers after all the wine he
had drunk.

Daoud let his head fall forward, and his eyes met the penetrating black
gaze of John Chagan. John was drunk, and he did not speak the language
of these people. But Daoud saw understanding in the crinkled brown face.
John could not know Daoud was a Mameluke, but he knew him for an enemy.
He looked at Daoud with the same icy determination to annihilate all
enemies as Daoud had seen staring at him from under the fur-and-iron
helmets of the Tartars at the Well of Goliath.

And Daoud, slumped in his chair, felt the same implacable resolution he
had felt that day, to fight back until the last invader was driven from
the Dar al-Islam, the Abode of Islam.

* * * * *

The Tartar army appeared as a darkness across the eastern horizon,
deepening as it spread. Curry-colored clouds towered above the
gray-black line like mile-high djinns.

The distant thunder of hooves reached the Mameluke commanders as they
halted in the plain between the hills of Galilee and the mountains of
Gilboa near a