He looked for the green-plumed helmet he had seen from a distance, telling him Manfred was here. There it was, in the midst of a ring of knights with tattered cloaks and surcoats--Manfred's young poets and musicians. It made Daoud's heavy heart feel a little lighter to see that they had stuck by their king. He steered his horse over to Manfred. "Emir Daoud! And still on your horse." The face under the bronzed helmet was red and shiny with sweat. Manfred's expression and voice were cheerful, but Daoud saw a deep, haunting anguish in his eyes. "This is my fourth horse of the day, Sire." Daoud climbed down and bent his knee to press Manfred's mail-gloved hand against his forehead. "I had heard you were killed." "That new French army that came at noon overran us." No need to tell Manfred, if he did not know, how close they had come to winning. "Sire, we have enough horses and men to break out of here." Manfred shook his head. "Nothing is left for me except to decide how the minnesingers will remember me after this day. To fall in battle will be far better, surely, than whatever shameful end Charles d'Anjou might be planning for me." "But you need not fall into Anjou's hands," Daoud insisted. "There is nowhere for me to escape to," said Manfred. "I have lost all my fighting men. All my kingdom lies open to Charles." "Sultan Baibars would receive you as a revered guest. Or the Emperor of Constantinople." _And we could take Sophia there with us._ Manfred shook his head with a rueful smile. "I would be honored to eat your sultan's bread and salt. Or to visit that wonderful city, Constantinople. But I do not want to see the shambles Anjou makes of this land my father and I labored so many years to make beautiful. And--I have been a king, and I do not want to end my life as an exile." _But we are all exiles_, Daoud thought. Manfred continued. "I thank you for all your help, Daoud. You must get away while you still have a chance." Tears burning his eyes, Daoud saw that the little space Manfred's men defended had shrunk even as they spoke. He thought of Sophia, waiting for him in Benevento. He thought of El Kahira, of Blossoming Reed, of going before Baibars and telling him he had failed to stop the alliance of Tartars and Christians. He would never see any of them again. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he sat in the Gray Mosque and heard the voice of Sheikh Saadi. _The Warrior of God is known, not by his willingness to kill, but by his willingness to die. He is a man who would give his life for his friends._ He looked again at the short, smiling man before him and said, "I will stay with you." Manfred put out a hand. "Daoud, you owe me no blood loyalty. I do not ask you to die in my company." "And yet, but for my advice, you might not be here today," Daoud said. "I owe you that. I cannot leave you." "Many of my own men already have." "Then I must stay." Manfred looked deep into Daoud's eyes. "What about Sophia?"