The Saracen: Land of the Infidel Part 22

Ka.s.sar reddened, and he smashed his fist into Nicetas's jaw. The Greek boy fell to the ground, and Daoud saw that his eyes were blank, dazed.

But Nicetas shook his head and forced himself to his feet.

"Your fist can't restore your honor, Ka.s.sar. You have f.u.c.ked it too many times."

Loud laughter burst out from the watching boys, choked off as again the Tartar swung, hitting Nicetas in the mouth. The boy was thrown back against the onlookers, and blood ran from his nose and mouth.

Daoud felt the blood pounding his temples as his anger grew. As long as it was just Ka.s.sar against Nicetas, he could not get into the fight. But if Ka.s.sar's friends joined in, he promised himself he would help Nicetas.

"Take back what you said," Ka.s.sar growled, advancing on him.

Daoud could not see Nicetas behind Ka.s.sar's bulky form. But suddenly Ka.s.sar's head snapped back and his white cap fell off into the sand. The Kipchaq fell back, and Daoud saw that Nicetas was on his feet, grinning through the blood and rubbing his knuckles.

"Yah, Nicetas!" he shouted, but he was alone in cheering. He sensed others looking at him. May they burn in the flames if they did not see that Nicetas was the better man.

Ka.s.sar plowed into Nicetas, pummeling him with both fists. When Nicetas collapsed under the punishment, Ka.s.sar kicked him in the head, sending him flying backward. Ka.s.sar's friends shouted encouragement. Daoud felt his whole body growing hot with anger.

Nicetas rolled over on his stomach, raised himself on hands and knees, and spat blood. His eyes searched the crowd of boys watching him and Ka.s.sar, and Daoud knew that he was looking for a friend.

"Nicetas!" Daoud cried, and the Greek boy's dazed eyes found him and his b.l.o.o.d.y mouth stretched in a grin.

But if Nicetas did not give up, Ka.s.sar would kill him.

Suddenly Daoud turned and pushed his way through the crowd and hurried to where Mahmoud was still sitting.

"Why do you not stop this?" he demanded. "It is your duty to keep order among us."

"Do not tell me my duty," said Mahmoud. "Have you forgotten what my cane feels like?"

"You would use the cane on _me_?" Daoud exclaimed, outraged. "When Ka.s.sar is cheating?"

There were a thousand tiny wrinkles around Mahmoud's blue Circa.s.sian eyes, from a lifetime of squinting into the sun.

"Daoud, I will tell you what my duty is. My duty is to take miserable julbans and make Mamelukes of you. When you are a full-fledged Mameluke, there will be no naqeeb over you to right your wrongs. Among Mamelukes, he who is strongest rules. If Ka.s.sar is the strongest among you, you must be ruled by him."

Daoud growled with disgust and ran back to the fight.

Nicetas had somehow gotten back on his feet, though his face was a ma.s.s of blood and dirt and his breath was coming in gasps. His eyes were glazed, but he managed to stagger forward and hit Ka.s.sar in the nose with his fist. Blood began to flow from the young Tartar's wide nostrils into his mustache.

Ka.s.sar put his fingers to his upper lip, took them away and stared at the blood. His eyes widened in fury. His head swung right and left; then he sidestepped to a boy in front of the circle. From the boy's sash he pulled a dabbus, a fluted iron cylinder mounted on a wooden staff.

Swinging the dabbus so it whistled through the air, Ka.s.sar charged at Nicetas. The boys fell back, opening the circle wider.

For the first time, Daoud saw fear in Nicetas's eyes. He ducked as Ka.s.sar swung the mace at his head, but his movements were slow and awkward. He had been hit too many times. He fell, stood up, and staggered backward.

The naqeeb would not interfere. This could end only one way.

And Daoud knew that he did not want to see Nicetas die before his eyes.

He would not allow it.

Only moments ago rage had raised a great storm within him, but now his mind was like the desert after the storm has pa.s.sed, still and empty.

Like the desert, he felt himself full of a terrible power.

Without any more thought he stepped out into the ring behind Ka.s.sar and shouted, "Ka.s.sar! Enough!"

The Tartar whirled, holding the dabbus at shoulder height.

"Stay out of this, pigs.h.i.+t Frank."

"Let him be, Ka.s.sar." Almost all Daoud's attention was on Ka.s.sar, but a part of his mind was free to wonder why he felt no fear at all. Somehow, he was not sure how, the hours with Saadi had something to do with it.

"Put that down," Daoud said, pointing at the dabbus.

"In your head!" Ka.s.sar shouted, and charged at him.

Daoud kept his eyes on Ka.s.sar's, but in the edge of his vision he saw the ridged ma.s.s of iron, heavy enough to crack a steel helmet, rus.h.i.+ng toward his head--his head protected only by a cloth cap.

At the last possible moment he threw up his hand and caught Ka.s.sar's wrist. He stepped back out of the path of the dabbus and jerked downward on Ka.s.sar's arm. The weight of the mace helped throw Ka.s.sar off balance, and he landed on his chest with a grunt, the air driven out of him.

Daoud stamped on Ka.s.sar's forearm and yanked the dabbus out of his grasp. He flung himself down on Ka.s.sar and pinned him to the sand.

Though all his attention was on Ka.s.sar, there was room in his mind for a triumphant surprise.

_Allahu akbar! G.o.d is great! I never thought I had the strength to throw the Kipchaq._

"Nicetas won the contest. Admit it, or I'll break your skull," he growled, holding the dabbus over Ka.s.sar's head.

Ka.s.sar remained silent. Daoud lowered the dabbus and tapped the Tartar's round skull through his mop of straight black hair. He hit Ka.s.sar just hard enough to let him feel the weight of the dabbus.

"Admit that Nicetas won."

"All right," Ka.s.sar grunted, his face in the sand. "He won."

"Swear by the Prophet you will leave him alone from now on."

"I swear," came the m.u.f.fled voice.

"By the Prophet."

"By the Prophet."

Daoud stood up warily and handed the dabbus back to the boy Ka.s.sar had taken it from.

Ka.s.sar rose slowly, wiping sand from his face. His eyes seemed to spark with hatred.

_This is not finished yet_, Daoud thought.

He looked for Nicetas. The Greek boy was on his feet. He was wiping the dirt and blood from his face with the hem of his robe. He looked at Daoud, and there was something bright and solemn in his eyes. No one had ever looked at Daoud like that before.