guide them on to the path of Allah. The two Emirs stroked their beards and gazed suspiciously at them. Then Abderrahman spoke in his crisp, stern fashion to the dragoman, and the two strode away together. An instant later the bugle rang out as a signal to mount.
“What he says is this,” Mansoor explained, as he rode in the middle of the prisoners. “We shall reach the wells by mid-day, and there will be a rest. His own Moolah, a very good and learned man, will come to give you an hour of teaching. At the end of that time you will choose one way or the other. When you have chosen, it will be decided whether you are to go to Khartoum or to be put to death. That is his last word.”
“They won’t take ransom?”
“Wad Ibrahim would, but the Emir Abderrahman is a terrible man. I advise you to give in to him.”
“What have you done yourself? You are a Christian, too.”
Mansoor blushed as deeply as his complexion would allow.
