Daoud shook his head. "Most Mamelukes do not drink wine. When Baibars became sultan, he closed all the wine shops in El Kahira." He also decided not to tell Lorenzo that in private Baibars enjoyed the Tartar drink kumiss, made from the fermented milk of mares. Lorenzo grunted. "Then you Mamelukes are stricter in your observance than many others who were born to Islam." They passed the cathedral of San Giovenale. It was lit within, and the narrow stained glass windows glowed red, yellow, blue, and white. _You go into a Christian church during the day, and the windows are all alight with colors. At night the windows are black if you are inside the church but brightly lit if you are outside. As if the church is calling to those outside in the darkness._ "So beautiful," Daoud said, "even if the images were idolatrous." "You should see some of the new cathedrals up near Paris. The windows are much bigger, and the figures are more lifelike." "Do you admire the Christian churches?" Daoud asked. "I admire beauty wherever I find it. On Sicily, there are beautiful stained glass windows in many synagogues." "We are building a mosque in El Kahira that will be the wonder of the world. But when were you in Paris?" "Four years ago, on a mission for King Manfred." _Four years ago I was battling Tartars in Palestine._ As they passed the open front doors of the cathedral, Daoud looked up the steps. He saw the bright yellow light of massed candles and heard a chorus of male voices raised in song. The voices seemed thin and high, as if reaching up into the night sky. He had heard such singing before--a long time before. He felt a catch in his throat. "Why are the priests singing so late at night?" "Those are the priests of the cathedral chapter. It is the beginning of day for them. They are chanting lauds, the dawn prayer of the Church." Listening to the voices, Daoud felt hot tears running down his face. Lorenzo glanced at him and chuckled. "I see you are not so impervious to the attractions of Christianity." Daoud was embarrassed, but he could not stop the flow of tears. "It is the wine." He was remembering high mass in the chapel of the castle, with his father's hand on his shoulder as they knelt and the chief priest in dazzling white and gold cope raised the white wafer toward heaven. His father whispered, "Jesus is come down among us," and then his strong tenor voice joined in "Veni Creator Spiritus." _I weep now for my father because I had no chance to weep for him when he was killed._ "Suppose he is in some Christian heaven looking down at me. What would he think?" Daoud started at the sound of his own words. _I must be drunk. I would never speak so in front of Lorenzo--or anyone--otherwise._