"Stand where you are, or I'll kill him," Daoud shouted. To show he meant it, he pressed the knife edge hard against Celino's throat and sliced with it just enough to draw blood.
"I hope you will enjoy the taste of your own intestines," Lorenzo said. He dug his boot heels into the wooden floor, trying to slow down Daoud's effort to drag him to the door. Daoud pushed up harder on his arm to make him move faster.
Daoud felt no fear of death, and he would not let them take him prisoner to torture him. He would die fighting. And go straight to paradise.
But how foolish all this was. A waste of his own life and the lives he would take with him. And many of those he would kill were Muslims, like himself.
"You must know that you will be the first to die here," he said. "And believe me I will take many of your men with me. I may even manage to kill your precious dog. I did not come here to fight with King Manfred's men. Why are you doing this?"
Celino, who had been struggling against Daoud, now relaxed and turned his head. "You are too dangerous to live."
"Dangerous to whom?"
"To me," said a deep voice behind Daoud.