Ahmad, the guard, pointed his spear at Daoud and jerked his head. Daoud
stood his ground.

"What of my silk? If you keep it, I will truly have no honest business
in Lucera."

Lorenzo smiled. He stuffed the lengths of silk and the mirror back into
the pack and held it out to Daoud.

"There is not enough here to be worth stealing. Take it, then."

"And my sword?"

Lorenzo laughed gruffly. "Forget your sword. Take him away, Ahmad."

They had missed the precious object hidden in a pouch tied in his groin.
And they missed the Scorpion, the miniature crossbow devised by the
Hashishiyya, its parts concealed in the hem of his cloak. Nor did they
have any idea that the tie that held his cloak at the neck could be
pulled loose to become a long strangling cord, flexible as silk and hard
as steel.

Daoud pulled his hood back over his head, shrugged into the pack under
his cloak, and began walking. Every step he took sent a jolt of anger
through his body. He would like to use his strangling cord on the man
responsible for this blunder.

The news might well travel northward that a blond merchant had been
arrested trying to enter Lucera. And if that man should later appear at
the court of the pope, there might be those who would remember hearing
of him and wonder why he had gone first to the pope's enemy, Manfred von
Hohenstaufen.

His first feelings of anger became a cold turmoil in his belly as he
thought what could happen if his mission failed--El Kahira leveled, its
people slaughtered, Islam crushed beneath the feet of barbarian
conquerors.

He must not let that happen.

The narrow street he walked on was lined with circular houses, their
brick walls a warm yellow color. The conical roofs were covered with
thin slates.

A Muslim sword maker looked up from his forge to stare at Daoud and his
guard as they passed. Veiled women with red pottery jars on their heads
stopped and looked boldly into his eyes.

Daoud lifted his gaze to the octagonal central tower of the citadel,
bright yellow-and-black flags flying from its battlements. Instead of
being squared off, the battlements were topped by forked points, like
the tails of swallows, proclaiming allegiance to the Ghibellini,
partisans of the Hohenstaufen family, enemies of the pope.

Closer to the citadel, noises of men and animals came at Daoud from all
directions. He saw many buildings, all connected with one another, their
small windows protected by iron grillwo