He doubted it, though. Most likely it would be more pepper and cotton and bolts of raw silk. He scratched his beard in thought, wondering if there was anything else that it could be.

Bah! Shadin's men are in place. They know the plan. We shall just see what we shall see.

The new war banner, a triangular pennant of green cloth with a crescent moon and a white saber marked on it, flapped slowly in a desultory breeze. Mohammed looked at it as he turned to go downstairs, shaking his head in amusement. Jalal had been quite proud of it when a contingent of the men presented it to Mohammed the day before they had attacked the port.

"A crescent moon?" Mohammed had not liked the symbol. It reminded him of the statue-crowded temples that infested the cities of northern Syria. "What does that mean?"

Jalal had grinned and stroked his curly salt-and-pepper beard. "It is the moon that watched us go forth from Mekkah, my lord. You say that the merciful and compassionate one watches us always; well- he watched us from the moon that night."

A sixty-foot coaster, lateen-rigged and showing a high prow and stern, drifted close to the stone quay. The ship was painted with cracking light blue paint and ornamented with yellow and black eyes facing forward. Sailors in turbans and loincloths leaned on the railing, long poles in their hands. A pair of long sweeps, driven by the hollow beat of a drum, had edged the ship into the harbor. A dozen more merchantmen just like it were also crowding into the bay. Two of Shadin's men were on the pier, reaching for the first rope to be thrown from the ship.

Mohammed stood in shadow, just inside the open double doors of the warehouse at the end of the pier. The building had been emptied out and was now filled with his men. The small Imperial garrison had been overwhelmed in the initial attack- manyof them had still been in bed, sleeping off a night of drinking- when the Sahaba had swarmed over the walls and through the southern gate of the town. The legionaries were now living on bread and water in the basement of the governor's house and their lorica segmentata were providing a brace of Mohammed's men with badly needed armor. The Quryash did not think he would need men armored from head to toe in spangenhelm-style helmets and full armor for today's work, but it never paid to underestimate one's enemy, even unsuspecting sailors and merchants at the end of a long haul up from the ports of Aden and Abyssinia. Most, like the crews of the dhows that were coming into the harbor, would be more interested in drink and food and women than girding their loins for war.

The coaster bumped against the quay and settled. Shadin's men tied the ship off to the stone buttresses that served as mooring poles. On the ship, the sailors clustered on the central deck, and a long plank walkway appeared. It dipped in the air and then fell, rattling, to the stone pier. A man dressed in a flamboyant orange hat shaped like an inflated octopus with tassels coming off it strode down the springy walkway. When he reached the shore, he fell onto his knees and kissed the earth. Behind him a crowd of men were piling off the ship, their legs wobbling. Some of them had spears.

Mohammed hissed, and the Sahaba in the warehouse tensed. There was a faint rattle of metal on metal as men drew their swords or put arrow to string on their bows. At Mohammed's side, Shadin was whispering quick orders to his runners. Two boys slipped through the press of men in the dark warehouse.

"Bowmen, front." Shadin's growl seemed loud in the enclosed space, but Mohammed knew that no one outside could hear. "Make ready to charge."

On the quay, men continued to pour off the boat. Another coaster had tied up at the next pier to the south, and more men were debarking. They had swords, spears, and bows as well. Mohammed felt a sick queasiness in his stomach. An army was debarking on the docks, and he had only Shadin's maimanah to face them. Jalal, the heavy cavalry, and the scouts were all up in the hills behind the town, learning to fight in formation. The Quryash clapped Shadin on the shoulder and moved up to the edge of the door. The armed men on the dock were moving forward carefully, their spears a thicket in front of them. The captain in his ebullient hat was at their head, looking about carefully. The town remained sleepily quiet, dozing in the sun.

Mohammed squinted at the bright light. The fellow in the hat seemed to be peering back at him.

"Hello? Is anyone around?" The voice sounded familiar, but it was out of context here.

Mohammed grunted in surprise as the sea captain took off the orange bladder and wiped sweat from a high and noble brow. The Quryash stepped out of the warehouse and slid his saber back into its sheath with a ting of metal on metal. The sea captain and his men started with surprise to see the figure appear before them.

"Are you lost?" Mohammed's voice rang off the storefronts and stone walls of the harbor. "This is not Yemen and San'a! You will have to turn around and go the other way." He raised his hand and pointed south.

The sea captain laughed in surprise, showing bright white teeth and a neatly trimmed black beard. He swept the fantastical hat into a flourish and bowed, going down on one knee. Some of his men knelt as well, though others were looking around in suspicion, their faces clouded with uncertainty. Mohammed strode forward, and the warehouse at his back suddenly vomited armed men. The men on the quay backed up hurriedly, taken aback by the appearance of grim-looking Sahaba.

"I am not lost," declared Khalid Al'Walid in a loud voice as he tossed the hat into the water. "I am returned from the south, from San'a and Yemen! Just a little early, is all."

Mohammed looked the youth up and down, his beard lighted by a grin. When the army of the companions had left Mekkah, the Quryash had sent the young rascal and his band of mercenaries to the south, toward the coastal highlands of Yemen. That land had been under the sway of the Sassanids for almost thirty years and there was supposed to be a Persian garrison at the city of San'a. Mohammed had wanted to know if this was still true and if it was, to make sure that the Persians did not meddle in the affairs of the Arabs while he was in the north. After he had scouted the Imperial frontier and divined the lay of the land, then he would deal with them.

"The Persians ran you off, did they? Where did you steal these boats? They're not mine, are they?" Mohammed's eye glinted dangerously. It would be just like the pup to commandeer Bani-Hashim or Quryash ships from one of the coastal ports to catch up with the army.

"No!" Khalid looked hurt at the implication. "These are spoils of war- and fairly gained, too. We captured them in port at Muza. They were just sitting there, and everyone was so eager to meet you: I decided that you needed a fleet. Here it is!"

Mohammed turned the youth around and gestured at the ships that had come into the harbor. All of them had found a place to tie up, and more men were debarking from each one. The ships seemed to be packed to the railings with men, hobbled camels, bundles of goods, and barrels. "I sent you south with two thousand men- both yours and mineto scout a position of the enemy. You seem to have come back with rather more than that:"

Khalid clapped the older man on the shoulder, still grinning widely. "Come, let's get in out of the sun and I'll tell you all about it."

Mohammed shook his head- more troubles were sure to come of this. He signaled to Shadin, and the mercenary moved to join them.

"Shadin, incorporate these men immediately. Separate them out, one or two to each qaitaba. All save Khalid's own men- put them with the other muqaddama scouts."