But does not God love the compassionate?
Give us the Jew, the innkeeper had said. Daoud knew that Christians took delight in mistreating Jews.
And I told the old man to go in there. But I did not know he was a Jew. Or that these people would harm him.
Whether Celino was a madman or not, Daoud would have to get him out of this, because he was carrying half of their supply of precious stones. When they left Lucera, Daoud and Celino had divided the twenty-four jewels Manfred had traded for the great emerald. Each carried half of the precious stones in a pouch hidden under his tunic.
Daoud studied the room. There must be a good thirty people there, most of them men. Aside from the six surrounding Celino, few of them seemed menacing. But if someone jumped in to help Celino, more might join the other side.
What do I have to help me? That boy who came with the old man. Sophia. And Celino and the dog.
If only, he thought, he had the Scorpion. But that was in the dining hall there, with all their other baggage, which Celino—the fool!—was supposed to be guarding.
He backed out into the small courtyard and bumped into the boy, who had followed him to the door. "You. Your father is in danger in there. And my friend has gotten into trouble trying to help him. We must get them out, you and I."
"Why should Christians help us?" The bitter voice was high. The boy must be very young. He was wrapped up like a Bedouin. His head and face were swathed in a dark cloth, his body cloaked. Only those sparkling eyes showed.
"I must help my friend," Daoud said. "If he lives, you can ask him why he chose to defend your father. Are you just going to cower here?"