Thus began my friendship with Wazim, the worthy Saracen jailer who has rendered me invaluable service time and time again in a thousand errands large and small. It was Wazim Kadi who provided me with an endless supply of quills and ink with which to write, and who first introduced to me the queer parchment-like stuff called papyrus. The Egyptians make it from the tall puff-topped reeds that grow everywhere along the river's edge; tough, yet light, and with the ability to be rolled up tight, this papyrus is in many ways superior to hide parchment-save in one important way: a slip of the pen cannot be rubbed out. Unlike parchment, where the odd blot or misplaced letter can be carefully scraped away to reveal a fresh layer beneath, any mistakes made on papyrus are there forever.

Despite the differences of race and faith, I could not have asked for a better servant. Unfailingly kind and thoughtful, Wazim Kadi has watched over me like a very angel-much like Padraig, in his own way, and I will miss him.

And now, dearest Caitriona, heart of my heart, I must conclude my long and, I fear, far too indulgent missive. What started as a simple letter of farewell has grown to a book. As I look over the work I have done, it pleases me for the most part. If not for the assurances of the caliph that it will one day find its way to you, I would have despaired long ago. But the Saracens are trustworthy; once honour is invoked, they will dare death and beyond to make good a promise.

The end, whatever that shall be, is near. A short while ago, I began hearing cries and shouts of alarm in the corridors and courtyards of the palace. These have intensified, and just now I caught a faint whiff of smoke through my open window. Wazim, who promised to bring word about what is happening, has not returned and I cannot think that a good sign. If this tale is to be completed, I fear it must be by another hand. I am content.

I will close with a prayer for you, and for all those who come after, that in virtue you will find wisdom… and in wisdom, peace… in peace, contentment… in contentment, joy… in joy, love… in love, Jesu… and in Jesu, God and life eternal. Amen.

Farewell, my Cait, my soul. Until we meet in Paradise.

Unable to force open the door, I stood at the window and looked out at the dull red bloom spreading across the night sky. There were fires in the city, and I could hear, like the sighing moan of a fretful wind, the eerie ululation of thousands of voices, shouting, screaming, crying. The smell of smoke was stronger now, and I guessed that, once begun, the flames would quickly race through the narrow, tight-crowded quarters, leaping street to street until the whole city was alight.

I was beginning to think what I might do if the flames should come to the palace, when I heard the scrape of a key in the lock; I turned as the door opened, and Wazim Kadi appeared, his face smudged with dirt and soot; his long tunic was filthy and soaked through with sweat. He was bleeding from a cut on the side of his head, and panting for breath.

'Wazim!' I started towards him. 'What has hap -'

Glancing over his shoulder, he motioned me to silence and then beckoned me to him with a frantic gesture. 'We must hurry, Da'ounk,' he said, his voice a raw, urgent whisper.

Taking up the bundle of papyri I had prepared using one of my siarcs to wrap it, I slipped the loop of a strap over my shoulder, and moved to join him at the door. 'Lead the way.' I left the room without looking back.

He led me quickly along the corridor and then down a flight of steps to another corridor below, along this, and out into the small inner courtyard overlooked by my window. He started away again into the darkness, but I took hold of his arm, and said, 'Wazim, wait! Tell me what is happening. Where are we going?'

'It is very bad,' he said, shaking his head. 'There is no time. We must hurry.'

'Tell me.'

He turned, features dark, eyes glinting in the lurid glow seeping into the sky. 'The people are rioting,' he said. His voice trembled. 'Many have been killed. They have set fire to the great bazaar, and the khalifa has fled to the citadel. We must hurry if we are to escape.'

'The soldiers, Wazim-where are they?'

'Some are protecting the khalifa,' he said. 'Most have been sent to quell the rioting.'

'What about the palace? Are there any soldiers here?'

'A few. Not many.' He pulled on my hands. 'Come, this way. We must hurry to the river. Your friends-they are waiting for you.'

'My friends-you mean Padraig?' After so long a time, I could scarce credit the words. Could it be true at last? 'Padraig is here in Cairo?'

'Yes, him-and the others. Yordanus Hippolytus is with him, and some others. They have a ship. Come, they are waiting.' He made to dart away again, but I held him firmly.

'There is something I must do first.'

'No, please, Da'ounk. There is no time. The soldiers might return at any moment. We must be gone from the palace before they discover I have set you free. I told your friends I would bring you. They are waiting at the quay. We must hurry.'

'I cannot leave yet,' I insisted. 'I need your help, Wazim. Now, listen carefully.' I gripped him by both shoulders and looked into his face. 'On the day I was brought here, some treasures came with me – gifts for the khalifa.'

'Gifts?' he said, growing fearful. 'Do not think about such things. We must go now.'

'You know what I'm talking about,' I replied, trying to maintain a calm and reasonable tone. 'The gifts sent by the Khalifa of Baghdad. What happened to them?'

'They might have been taken to the treasure house,' he allowed, 'but it -'

'Take me there,' I commanded. 'Take me to the treasure house.'

'It is impossible! We cannot go there. It is locked very tight and the caliph only holds the keys. The treasure house cannot be opened.'

'If you will not help me, I will have to find it myself.' I made as if I would go off alone.

'Yordanus paid me to deliver you safely to the ship. How am I to do that if you will not come with me?' He snatched at my sleeve. 'Please, Da'ounk, it is very dangerous to remain here any longer.'

The urgent pleading in his tone warned me. 'Why?'

'They are saying the Fida'in are in the city,' he confessed. 'They may be in the palace even now. If they find us they will kill us. We must leave while we can.'

'Soon. First, the treasure house.'

He rolled his eyes and drew a deep breath, but saw it was no good disagreeing any longer. Muttering dark oaths, he led me across the small courtyard and into another of the facing buildings, along a corridor and out again, into the large garden courtyard I saw when first I arrived at the palace. Quickly, quietly, we proceeded along an unseen pathway in the darkness, skirting one building and another, and coming by furtive means to a very large, many-floored edifice set apart from the main wing of the palace and surrounded by a flowering garden.

We stopped at the edge of the garden and hid beneath a low-growing tree. The garden was planted with night-blooming flowers which filled the air with a sweet and heady fragrance, so strong it got up in my nostrils. I stifled three sneezes, and decided it was time to move along. There was no one about that I could see, and there were no signs of life in any of the buildings surrounding the yard.

'This is the treasure house?' I wondered. Although there were no windows on the ground floor, the upper floors contained wide and generous balconies, most of which were screened, but a few of which were completely open, allowing access to anyone who could make the climb.

'This is the hareem,' Wazim replied. 'It is the most protected place in the entire palace, with soldiers keeping watch day and night.' The reason, he explained, was that the hareem, as it was called, was where the female members of the Caliph's family-wives, concubines, and daughters-had their residence.