'That is true, Most Excellent Khalifa. I try to occupy my time.'

'What is it that you write?'

'I am making an account of my -'

'Captivity,' he said, supplying the word himself.

'Travels, my lord,' I corrected. 'I am making an account of my travels in Outremer.'

He grunted, and pulled on his moustache as he considered this reply. I realized then that the man before me was discontented and oppressed by worry. The eyes that gazed at me were fatigued, and the day was new. 'Who will read this account of your travels?'

'I am making it for my daughter. Although she is still very young, I hope that one day she will want to know what became of her father and she will read it for herself.'

'Tcha!' he cried, as if he had caught me in a lie. 'How do you imagine she will receive this book of yours? Who will take it to her?'

'I cannot say how it will reach her,' I replied readily. 'That is for his Honourable Potentate the Khalifa to decide.'

The answer caught him off guard. 'For me to decide?'

'Even so, my lord. It was promised in your name that my last request would be granted. My last request is to have my writings reach my daughter.'

The caliph turned his head and demanded of one of his many advisors, 'Is this so?'

The man, a dark-bearded fellow with a basket of rolled-up parchments beside him, consulted the document before him and nodded. 'It is so, Excellent and Exalted Khalifa. The promise was given in recognition of the prisoner's nobility, according to the custom of Baghdad.'

The caliph's small eyes almost disappeared as his squint deepened. He drew a deep breath through his nostrils and blew it out, then said, 'So shall it be done.'

I bowed courteously. 'I thank you, My Lord Khalifa.'

'You love your daughter, I suppose,' he said stiffly.

'Of course, my lord. She is the jewel of my heart and I cherish her beyond all measure.'

'A parent should love his children,' al-Hafiz declared, as if instructing a stubborn pupil. 'So it is written in the Holy Qur'an.'

'And in the Bible,' I pointed out.

'You are not afraid to die,' he observed.

'No, my lord.'

'Are you so pure of heart and soul that you do not tremble to stand before the Throne of Divine Judgement?'

'How should I tremble, my lord, when even now my righteous advocate intercedes before the throne on my behalf?'

This appeared to interest the caliph. 'This advocate-who is he?'

'He is Jesu, called the Messiah.'

'I know of this Messiah,' said al-Hafiz, with an impatient twitch of dismissal. 'Among the faithful, he is considered a very great prophet.' He frowned, as if daring me to answer, and asked, 'Why should this prophet intercede for you?'

'He intercedes for anyone who trusts in him,' I answered.

Caliph al-Hafiz raised his chin, indicating he was finished with me. 'Then we will see if this advocate has the ear of Allah,' he said. 'At the sixth hour your head will fall to the axe and you will stand before the Throne of Judgement. May your advocate's eloquence open the gates of paradise for you.'

Even though I knew it was coming, hearing the words made me weak in the knees. Somehow, I summoned the strength to bow in humble acceptance of his decision.

'Does this not concern you?' he demanded, apparently rankled by my tranquil demeanour.

'My Lord Khalifa,' I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, 'I love my life as much as any man, but it is in your hands. I am your servant. Judge me how you will.'

'You hope I will pity your insignificant faith and pardon you,' he said, his voice taking on a defiant tone, as if daring me to beg him to spare my life.

I already knew what I would say. 'With all respect, my lord, my hope is in Almighty God, the Merciful Redeemer, who alone holds the power of life and death-in this world and the next.'

He stared at me, and I thought I saw doubt creeping into the deeply-creased lines of his face. Suddenly – as if the thought had just occurred to him-he said, 'What do you know of affairs in Cairo?'

The question so surprised me, I could not think how to answer. 'Why, I know nothing of affairs in Cairo,' I replied, when he had repeated it once more. 'I have been a prisoner of the palace since coming here. I see no one, and no one sees me.'

'Just so!' he declared triumphantly, and I understood the question had been a test, but what it was meant to reveal, I could not grasp. Gesturing to the guards, he ordered them to take me back to my cell.

I was swept from his presence and returned to my cell where I spent my last moments praying and preparing myself for the grim ordeal ahead. I do not know how much time passed-it seemed I spent an eternity on my knees-and I heard footsteps outside my door once more. I heard the key in the lock and rose to meet the guards who would conduct me to the place of execution.

It was Wazim who entered, however; and he was alone.

'Da'ounk,' he said, his face beaming like a swarthy sun, 'good tidings! The execution is delayed.'

'Delayed?' Relief flooded through me. 'Why?'

'I was not told the reason,' he answered. 'But I know there is some trouble in the city and the khalifa has sent all the guards to deal with it. He has said that no prisoners are to be executed until peace is regained. Is that not wonderful indeed?'

I agreed that it was wonderful, and asked, 'What is the trouble? Why should the executions be delayed?'

'I do not know what has happened,' Wazim said. 'But if you wish, I will make it my duty to find out. Do you wish it?'

Instantly, I recalled the caliph asking me what I knew of events in Cairo. Inasmuch as I owed my physical well-being to affairs in the city, it made sense to learn more about them if I could. 'Yes,' I told him, 'find out all you can, please.'

'With pleasure, Da'ounk.'

Grinning, Wazim left my cell; I heard him scurrying away, and, after a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving for my stay of execution, I returned to my table.

After a long time pondering the implications of the unforeseen development in my situation, I picked up my quill once more, and returned to the work at hand.

Leaving the house of Yordanus Hippolytus, I rejoined Roupen and Padraig in the yard. They were sitting beside the little pool, talking quietly. Taking one look at the expression on my face, Padraig said, 'He refused to see you.'

'No, I saw him. He refused to help us.' I quickly explained that I had told him of Commander Renaud's recommendation. 'He said he did not care about our troubles.'

'Then I say we shake the dust off our feet,' Roupen said. 'We have wasted enough time with this already.' He rose abruptly. 'We never should have come here in the first place. We would be half-way to Anazarbus by now if we had not listened to that Templar.'

I was forced to agree with him, and we decided our best course was to return to the harbour and see if we could find a boat to hire; although, considering the little we had left from Bezu's largesse, I reckoned our chances very slender. Nevertheless, we started from the yard and, as I passed through the low gateway, I heard someone calling me and looked back to see Yordanus' daughter hurrying towards us.

I told the others to wait a moment, and turned back.

'Where are you going?' she asked. 'I thought you wanted to see my father.'

'I have seen him,' I replied. 'He did not wish to help us. He said he did not care about our troubles.'

'He says that to everyone,' she sighed. 'I should have warned you.' Her brusque manner had softened somewhat, and I wondered why. 'He can be difficult to understand sometimes.'

'I understood him perfectly well. I am sorry to have troubled you.' I thanked her for her help, and took my leave. 'You will excuse me, my friends are waiting.'

'Don't go.'