ted and
tortured me for a night and a day. You very nearly did to me something
so horrible, even now it hurts me to think about it. And you would have
done it, too, if the contessa's summons had not delayed you. Now,
because you have stopped doing these things to me, you expect me to be
overflowing with gratitude and glad to help you make peace with the
Ghibellini."

D'Ucello smiled back. "For my sparing you from torture, from mutilation,
from death, you should be grateful, yes."

_If he were another kind of man, he would have destroyed me with Greek
Fire and let this city be ruined while he fought the Sienese. In spite
of what he did to me, this is a wise man, and he deserves to live and to
rule here._

But Daoud could not resist another thrust. "What I should do, if, as you
think, I have influence with the Sienese, is have them do to you what
you have done to me. And not spare you at the end." He felt himself
getting angry as he thought of all he had been through, even though he
knew anger was foolish. "I know where you keep your flask of Greek
Fire."

D'Ucello's black eyes held Daoud's. "Yes. You could do that. But I think
I have come to know something about you during these hours you have
suffered at my hands."

"Yes?"

"I do not know what you are, but I know that you are much more than you
seem to be. And you are not the sort who takes revenge on a man for
doing his duty."

Daoud did not care to haggle anymore. "Allow any messenger of mine
freedom to come and go through the city gates."

"Agreed."

The podesta was right, he thought. He would not seek revenge after
d'Ucello surrendered to the Sienese any more than he would kill a
prisoner of war. Men like Qutuz did that sort of thing, to satisfy their
vanity. Men like Baibars did not. He thanked God for making him more
like Baibars.

And he thanked God for bringing him alive and whole out of the valley of
death.

* * * * *

Her first sight of Daoud was a cruel blow to Sophia's heart. His blond
hair, dark with dirt and sweat, spread in lank locks on the pillow. His
bloodshot eyes looked at her out of blackened lids. His lips were
cracked. His face looked hollow, as if he had grown thinner just in the
day d'Ucello had held him.

She ran to him across the tiled floor of Ugolini's reception hall.

He was alive, but how badly hurt was he? She prayed that when she lifted
the blanket that covered him she would see that hi