eed.

_Why must these ghosts hover over us?_

She reached out to touch the little leather capsule tied by a thong
around his neck, the only thing he was wearing at the moment. "What is
that?"

"It is called a tawidh. Inside are numbers written on a scroll. It
protects me from death by wounding and causes any wounds I do receive to
heal quickly."

"Tawidh?" She mimicked exactly the Arabic pronunciation. "How can
numbers on a scroll protect from wounds?"

He did not fully understand himself the Sufi belief that all things are
numbers, and that numbers written by a holy man could control objects
and events.

"One must be of my faith to understand it," he said briefly.

She looked at him earnestly. "It is so hard to think of you as a
Mohammedan, David."

"Not Mohammedan--Muslim. And David is not my name. My true name is
Arabic. Shall I tell it to you?"

"Oh, yes, please. I will use it with you when we are alone together."

"I am called Daoud ibn Abdallah. Daoud is Arabic for David."

"Then your name _is_ David."

"No, it is Daoud," he said. "The sound matters a great deal. It is the
sound that God hears."

"You believe that God speaks Arabic?"

"It is the language most pleasing to Him. Did He not give His message to
the Prophet--may God praise and salute him--in Arabic?"

She pulled herself closer to him. "Ah, David--Daoud--do not talk to me
of religion now. Here and now, let us think not of religions and empires
and wars, but only of you and me." She paused and looked at him a little
anxiously. "Do you think the servants or anyone else heard me
screaming?"

"I saw no one outside. Most of them probably suspect that we have been
lovers for a long time. But suspicion is one thing. To confirm it by our
outward behavior could be dangerous. We must continue to act as if this
never happened."

"We will do this again, will we not?"

He touched her dark red lips with his fingertips and said:

After suffering the joy of love
I have no abiding place.
I live only to be
With the one I love.

"Yes, we will do it again. Very soon now. I feel my strength returning."
He curved his hand around the softness of her breast.

"Ah, good! I did not want it to be over yet--Daoud."

* * * * *

In the first days of the Christian month of July the sun grew very
strong, and above the narrow streets and tiny gardens, dust rose. Daoud
found the climate more to his liking. Al