"Why not?" said Manfred. "She will be perfect."
"Because she will not want to go." There was censure in Celino's dark
stare--and a boyish defiance in Manfred's answering look.
"Do not question me," said Manfred. "I have no choice. For her good and
for my own, she must leave here. And she _will_ be useful to you."
Instead of replying, Celino only sighed again.
"A woman?" Daoud was thunderstruck. In El Kahira women left their homes
only to visit other women. He felt anxiety claw at his belly. Any
mistake in planning might wreck the mission and doom him, and Celino, to
a horrible death. And to send a woman to the court of the pope on such a
venture seemed not just a mistake, but utter madness.
"A very beautiful woman," said Manfred, a grin stretching his blond
mustache. "One who has had a lifetime's schooling in intrigue. She is
from Constantinople, and her name is Sophia, which means wisdom in
Greek."
_There are no more treacherous people on this earth than the
Byzantines_, Daoud thought, _and they have ever been enemies of Islam_.
Argument surged up in him, but he saw a hardness in Manfred's eyes that
told him nothing he might say would sway the king. He looked at Celino,
and saw in the dark, mustached face the same reluctant acceptance he had
heard in the sigh.
Whoever this Sophia might be, he would have to take her with him.