She shuddered. Yes, the rats were the worst part, butshe had no choice. Her father needed her assistance.
"Thank you,Suhel,"Leila said, overtaking the eunuch easily. "You may go home now. I canmanage the rest of the way myself."
"I will see you there, esteemed mistress," hereplied obstinately, wiping his thick neck with a sodden handkerchief. "Yourbeloved mother would be most displeased if I did not, yes?"
Leila clamped her mouth shut, knowing any protest wouldbe useless. She waited until he had caught up to her, then they walked the lastfew paces together, stopping just outside the huge, arched entrance to theprison.
A dozen fierce-looking guards stared back at them withlittle expression, but when Leila introduced herself they quickly parted ranksand allowed her to pass through the tall iron gates. They knew she was thedaughter and apprentice ofSinjarAl-Aziz, theprivate physician ofMawdud, the governor ofDamascus, and of SultanBaybarshimself, wheneverthat great man journeyed to Damascus from the imperial city of Cairo.
Wide-eyed and nervous again, Leila glanced over her shoulderjust before she was swallowed up by a dark, inner hallway. She sawSuhelalready trudging back down the hill, the lanternswaying in front of him. A silent guard steered her by the elbow into awell-lit chamber, where with a surge of relief she spied her father. Hispresence was so commanding, soauthoritative,shecould not help but be calmed by it.
"There you are, my daughter,"Sinjarexclaimed, his robes swirling as he strode over toher with a grave look on his handsome face. "I have only just arrivedmyself from the hospital." Before she could catch her breath enough torespond, he took her arm and guided her through another set of iron gates. "Come.We must hurry."
Leila flinched when the heavy gates clanked shut behindthem. She was thankful for the reassuring pressure of her father's hand on herarm and for the two well-armed guards leading the way.
As their silent group ventured deeper into the prison,they were assailed at every turn by putrid odors and pitiful moaning, likeLeila's worst nightmare come to life. She could swear she heard rats squeakingand skittering in the dark, musty corners. She looked neither right nor left,hoping to spare herself any horrible images she would have a difficult timeforgetting, but tormented shrieks or unintelligible gibberish occasionally drewher gaze to the prison's unfortunate inmates.
Near-skeletal figures draped in dirty rags peered fromcagelikecells, hopeless, macabre shadows of what had oncebeen strong fighting men. Leila knew that many of them were prisoners of war,but some were debtors or criminals.
Whatever their crime, most would never again see thelight of day. The governor's prison was renowned for the cruelty and tortureinflicted within its walls. It was a rare and fortunate man who ever walked outalive.
Tarnished brass lamps lit the high-ceilinged interiorof the next cavernous room they entered. It was much cleaner than the area theyhad just passed through, with freshly swept floors and a few small squarewindows opened to the evening breeze. She knew this part of the building waswhere the privileged prisoners were kept.
Arched wooden doors fitted with hinged peepholes linedboth sides of the room, opening into small, individual cells. All appearedempty, save for the last one on the left. Two guards flanked the yawning door,from which a swath of yellow light cut across the floor.
"He's in there,"Sinjarsaid, releasing her arm and hurrying to the cell.
"Who?" Leila asked, following him.
"Our patient."Sinjarducked his head and went inside, his resonant voice carrying out to her. "Good,the guards already carried in my bags. Everything we need is here. Leila, areyou coming?"
She drew a deep breath as she unfastened her face veil."Yes, father."
Please may there not be rats, she prayed.
She stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the cell'sbrightness. There were at least fifteen lanterns placed around the stone walls,filling the cramped interior with light. In a far comer hot coals glowed insidea large copper brazier.
At first Leila could not see the patient for the fourMamelukesoldiers flanking the foot of a wooden cot placedin the center of the cell. They were members of the governor's elite fightingcorps, and their forbidding presence told her one thing. The patient was morethan likely a prisoner of war.
She began to walk around the soldiers, and almosttripped over a pile of interlocking iron rings heaped on the floor. She hadnever seen anything like them before. She tried to pick up one end of whatappeared to be a long-sleeved shirt, but the rings were so heavy she could notlift them. She drew her hand away, inhaling sharply when she saw that herfingers were covered in blood.
She thought she had cut herself, but when she wiped herhand on herqumbazthe blood was transferred to thelinen garment and the pads of her fingers remained unmarred.
"My daughter, I have need of your assistance!"Sinjarsnapped, startling her.
Embarrassed to have been caught dawdling, Leila rushedaround the soldiers to her father's side where she stopped short, staring inopenmouthed astonishment at the strapping blond giant lying unconscious uponthe cot. He was so tall and huge that his heavily muscled limbs dangled off thesides.
Instinctively she noted that he was drenched in sweat,his magnificently built body wracked by tremors. Yet despite his condition, araw power emanated from him, a vibrant life force which seemed to fill thesmall cell. She could almost feel his great strength in the simple rise andfall of his massive chest, and it overwhelmed her completely.
"Wh-who is he, Father?" she stammered, her gaze coming torest upon the man's ashen face.
"A crusader knight,"Sinjarsaid, cursing as he cut away a sweat- and blood-soaked padded vest to reveal avicious shoulder wound. Bright red blood flowed in a steady trickle from theugly gash, which judging from its shape and depth had been inflicted by acurved scimitar. "And soon to be a dead man, Leila, if you do not ceaseyourgaping and help me stop this bleeding. We will have tocauterize. Prepare the irons. Now!"
Shocked into action bySinjar'ssharp command, Leila found several iron rods of various sizes in one of hisbags and rushed over to place them on the glowing coals in the brazier. Shewatched as the long, sharpened tips grew red, then drew a protective glove overher hand and seized the first rod that was ready. She hastened back to herfather's side.
"Hold his limbs,"Sinjarcommanded the four soldiers who quickly positioned themselves around the cot,each grabbing an arm or leg. "Tightly."
"'Tisa good thing he'sunconscious," Leila said, holding out the rod to her father. "He willfeel the pain, but perhaps he will not remember it."
