She opened her eyes suddenly. "Will it be bad for you to do this with me?" "What to do you mean, bad?" "Deprive you of strength for the battle?" He chuckled softly. "If you made me stop now, I would be filled with such a rage that I would slay all of Charles's army single-handed." Her hand stopped pleasuring him. "That would be good. Then we must stop." "No," he said. "I would rather go into battle with a beautiful memory and a clear head. As for my strength, God will restore it moments after I spend it. He always has, I assure you." "Then let us not wait." She pulled him over on top of her and accepted him into herself, tightening around him. A flood of breathless Greek endearments filled his ear. He had never been with a woman who cried out as Sophia did during the act of love. Try as she might to muffle her sounds, she was certain in the final surge to lose control. He was sure Manfred's other officers quartered in this house must hear her. Well, let them hear her, and envy him. She let him rest upon her, happily released, until his body withdrew itself from her. A shadow crossed his mind. _That may have been the last time for us._ They lay side by side. A faint light penetrated the bed curtains from somewhere in their room, and by that light he could see her smiling. He smiled back, but his body was growing tense. Fear of what he would face in the hours to come was building inside him. The face he loved, the warmth of her body so close to his, made him wish he need never leave this bed. His arms and legs felt heavy, rebellious. If he commanded them to move away from her, they would not. _In truth, I would have to be mad to want to go out and butcher infidels rather than stay here with Sophia._ But he could not stay with her. Today would decide everything. He forced his reluctant limbs to push him away from her. She did not try to hold him. Outside the heavy bed curtains, the air in the room felt cold as death. Standing alone in the middle of the floor, he felt a sickening void of apprehension in his belly. As Sheikh Saadi had taught him, he faced his fear. He was terrified of death and defeat. Probably there had never been a warrior anywhere in the world who had not felt this way on the morning of a battle. Probably the Prophet himself, before battle, had feared for himself and for those he loved. _I cannot control today's outcome, for myself or for the men I fight beside. But I can dedicate my mind and heart and will and limbs to God. I can fight for Him to the uttermost of my strength. Passive toward God, active toward the world._ Naked, he walked to the door leading to the balcony and pushed it partway open. A draft of even chillier air made his skin prickle and fluttered the flame of the candle Husain had lit when he woke them. The sky was still black and full of stars. Dawn was a long way off.