g their domains. They marched of their own free
will. He only pointed the way.

He remembered something Roland had said to him: _Once you have made your
choice, put your whole heart and soul into it. Never divide yourself._

Which, Simon thought, was exactly why, even though he would pass near
Nicolette and Roland's home in Provence, he would not visit them. He
knew well their feelings about crusades, and he could be quite sure of
the loathing with which they would view this war. Roland had even spent
a good part of his youth at the court of Emperor Frederic, Manfred's
father. No, he had enough doubts of his own without letting his parents
add more.

Even so, from his belt hung Roland's gift to him, the jeweled Damascus
scimitar. He did not like to admit to himself that he was superstitious,
but with this scimitar Roland had gotten out of Egypt alive in the face
of the most terrible dangers. Somehow, Simon saw the scimitar as a
talisman that might also get him through this war.

He glanced over at the beautiful Barbara de Marion and felt a rush of
gratitude. Knowing that, lovely as she was, she could never make him
forget Sophia, had helped him make his decision.

LXVI

"It has been four years since I mounted a horse and drew my bow in
battle," said John Chagan with a grin. "A man grows old if he does not
fight."

Rachel paused in her work of setting up their tent for the night to
stare at him, wondering if he knew how unready for fighting he looked.
The pouches under his eyes were as prominent as his cheekbones, and the
cheekbones themselves were criss-crossed with tiny red lines.

It had been nearly a month since he had taken his pleasure with her in
bed. She was glad enough of that, but she felt sorry for him, even
knowing that his death in battle would free her. The way his hands
trembled, he would be lucky to get an arrow nocked, much less shoot it
at an enemy.

The tent flap was pushed aside, and a Venetian crossbowman backed in
holding one end of Rachel's traveling chest. Another man followed at the
other end.

"What have you got in here--marble blocks?" the first archer grumbled as
he set the box down on the carpeted tent floor beside the bed.

"My helmet and sword and coat of mail," said Rachel with a smile. "I
would not want to miss the battle."

Fear whispered to her that the armed men who traveled with the Tartars
must be aware that she had valuables in that chest. If any of them ever