ictory. You rashly chose
to overrun this handful of men, but the harm you have done to Hulagu
Khan is that which a gnat does to an elephant. You have not hurt him.
You have angered him. The men and horses he has lost here, the wives of
his soldiers and the mares in his paddocks will make up in a single
night."

"You talk like some old storyteller in the marketplace who tries to
frighten children," said Qutuz in a shrill voice.

_The amazement all of us feel, that we are not only alive but
victorious, must be even stronger in Qutuz. Most of my Mameluke
comrades may think that their sultan planned for victory all along. But
he himself knows better._

Ket Bogha stopped pacing and pointed a stubby finger at Qutuz. "Soon
Hulagu Khan will return from beyond the Oxus and the hooves of his
horses will trample your land all the way to the Nile and beyond. He
will do to your Cairo what he did to Baghdad."

Qutuz laughed harshly. "Your faith in your master is touching, but I
will have your head carried before me on a spear when I ride back to
Egypt. He cannot save you from that."

"I would rather die for my khan than be like you, one who rose to power
by murdering his rightful lord!" Ket Bogha cried.

Baibars smiled wryly as he repeated the Tartar's words in Arabic.

Qutuz went white with fury. "Take him away and cut his head off," he
ordered. "And you, Baibars, how dare you repeat such a slander to me? I
never murdered anyone."

Qutuz's command revolted Daoud. After the poor part the sultan had
played in the battle, he had no right to take the head of a brave enemy.
Daoud heard Baibars give a little snort of disgust, and the emir strode
to Qutuz's side.

Baibars spoke in a low voice, but Daoud heard him. "My Lord, this is not
worthy of a sultan in his hour of victory. This is a brave commander,
and I repeated all that he said because you wished me to."

Qutuz glared wildly at Baibars. "Be still! I will not spare your fellow
Tartar."

Qutuz, Daoud thought with smoldering wrath, was not worthy to be sultan.

Baibars turned his back on Qutuz. The brown face was impassive, but in
the one blue eye Daoud saw death.

XXIII

The rats scavenged in the garbage and the cats hunted the rats. And cats
and rats scurried out of the way of the two men who staggered beneath a
waning moon through the streets of Orvieto.

"I was truly drunk," said Daoud. "But only my body was drunk. It is
still drunk." He walked with one