ruler of a civilized,
prosperous land, and he probably would not go to war until the enemy was
on his border.

Though Daoud felt for Manfred and his wish to be at peace, he knew that
no ruler could refuse the duty of war. Peace could be achieved only by
conquering the enemies of peace. Every great ruler of Islam from the
Prophet to Salah ad-Din and Baibars had been a warrior on horseback.

Daoud's heart felt like a lump of lead. He saw so clearly that with one
stroke they could end the danger of a union between Tartars and
Christians and save Manfred's kingdom.

He sighed inwardly. He had tried his best and failed.

He had no choice but to accept that. But acceptance was not surrender.
You surrendered only to the will of God. You accepted things as they
were, but struggled to make them better.

_The potter does not sigh for better clay, but works with what God puts
in his hand_, Sheikh Saadi said.

Manfred turned away from Daoud, walked around the table with another
glance at the portrait, and sat down. He frowned at a parchment that lay
before him, as if wishing to end the conversation.

Daoud said, "Then, Sire, let us at least prepare to defend ourselves as
best we can." He untied a small leather bag from his belt and went over
to the desk. Manfred looked up, his blond eyebrows lifted.

Daoud said, "Allow the sultan of the lands of Islam, who feels himself a
brother to you, to come to your aid with this gift." He upended the
leather bag over the table, and a flood of tiny lights spilled out.
Erculio gasped and drew back from the small pile of precious stones.

Manfred stared in wonder. "This is enough to pay and equip enough
knights and men-at-arms to double the size of my army. Your sultan gives
with a great heart." He looked at Daoud with more warmth that Daoud had
ever seen in those cold blue eyes. "Or is it in fact you who give?"

"My lord the sultan commanded me to use this wealth carefully, and to
help you if your enemies should attack."

Manfred said, "These, then, remain of the jewels I sent you with to
Orvieto? Twelve? You are a remarkably good steward, Daoud. I should put
you in charge of my treasury."

Daoud inclined his head respectfully. "I hope you will put me where I
can serve you better, Sire."

"And where is that?"

"Sire, my work here is far from done. Give me a unit of your army to
command. Let them be, if you permit, fighting men of my own faith."

_And I may yet kill the Tartars