How could he claim, even in the secrecy of his own heart, that he loved
her?

* * * * *

Daoud could barely see Marco di Filippeschi in the darkness. Moonlight
touched the gold medallion that hung from Marco's neck and on the silver
badge in his cap. For the rest he was a figure carved out of shadow.
Despite the full moon, this narrow alleyway between a stone house and
the city wall was almost as black as the bottom of a well.

Daoud's Hashishiyya-trained senses needed no light to see by. He had
learned to see with his ears as well as with his sense of smell. He
could sense what weapons Marco di Filippeschi was wearing--a shortsword
and two daggers at his belt, and, from the difference in footfalls, a
third dagger in a sheath in his right boot. He knew the position of
Marco's hands, and he knew that Marco had told the truth when he said he
had come to this rendezvous alone.

Lorenzo had assured him that Marco would leap like a hungry wolf at any
chance to avenge himself on the Monaldeschi. But Daoud wondered, would
the volatile young clan chieftain really be willing to undertake an
attack on the Monaldeschi that had more chance of failing than
succeeding?

"I can offer you over two hundred lusty bravos collected by one who is
known to you," Daoud said. Hoping to make Marco a little less certain
about who his ultimate benefactor was, he avoided naming Giancarlo.
Marco could destroy Daoud and all his comrades by revealing the identity
of the man who had incited his attack on the Monaldeschi. If he were
captured and tortured, strong and fierce though he might be, it was
likely he would tell everything.

Daoud reached into the purse at his belt, where he had earlier put two
emeralds. He held them out in his open palm so that the moonlight
glistened on their polished surfaces.

"Please accept these as a gift," he said. "If you decide to assault the
Palazzo Monaldeschi, your preparations will be costly."

The jewels must be called a gift. The capo della famiglia Filippeschi
was not a man you paid to do your work for you.

Marco's hand closed around the emeralds, and his other hand seized
Daoud's forearm.

"I shall spend this on weapons," he said. "Crossbows to kill more
Monaldeschi. Stone guns to batter down their walls. I care not what
price I must pay."

_That is good_, thought Daoud, _because the price may be very high_.

"I will need until spring," Marco continued. "It will ta