Lorenzo felt himself trembling. He wanted to scream a warning.
I have to reach Daoud.
He jerked the horse to a stop and called to Rachel and Friar Mathieu.
"I have to leave you."
"Lorenzo!" Rachel's eyes were huge with terror.
He took her hands. "Listen. I love you like my own daughter. But I have just seen something—I have to warn them. Daoud—David—will be killed."
"David of Trebizond?" said Friar Mathieu. "You called him Daoud?" The old priest's eyes were alight with sudden understanding.
"Never mind." Lorenzo heard his own voice rising in panic. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then plunged back into the cart and seized the saddle he had tucked away in the back. He jumped down from the cart, unhitched the gelding, and threw the saddle over its back.
"Oh, my God, Lorenzo!" Rachel screamed. "Take me with you. Don't leave me here."
"I will be back for you," he said as he fought to get saddle and bridle on the horse. "I swear it. I have no time to talk. I have to do this." Wanting something more than a dagger to defend himself with, he grabbed the crossbow he had taken from the guard at the Tartar's tent, and strapped the quiver of bolts to his waist.