Richard of Warwick stood in front of a mirror, examining the reflection of his new self. Even in the mottled light from the metal sheet, he could make out the changes that Joshua and his two daughters had wrought upon him. The strange dye that he had been forced to bathe in had turned his skin from its usual ruddy complexion to a that more resembling the desert-burnt flesh of one of the local tribes. His hair had turned from the yellow-blonde that it had been from his birth to a sooty black. Somehow the dye had accumulated in the hollows around his eyes, jaw and nose, making his face seem thinner and more angular than it had been before. The only things that seemed the same to him were his eyes. These were still the familiar, piercing blue.

"Well?" Joshua asked from behind the great mirror. He peered around the side. "What do you think, young sir?"

"It is like sorcery," the Golden Knight replied. "I do not recognise myself."

"Alchemy."

"Ha." Emrys Wledig snorted in derision.

"And you disagree?" Joshua asked. "What is it about my work that displeases you? What would you have done different?"

Emrys stalked around Richard, examining the young man closely. "You will need to shave every day. And you will have to do it yourself - in case some barber wonders why a dark-haired man has a blonde beard. Do you have a good razor?"

"I am sure that there is a sharp blade in my stores," Joshua interrupted. "And I can sell you an excellent whetstone for only a few coins."

Emrys glared at Joshua before continuing. "And if the hair on your head should grow out, then our little ruse may be discovered. Hopefully we will not be long in Damascus." He turned his attention back towards Joshua. "And what if he needs to bathe? Would that undo all your good work?"

Joshua sniffed and rested the sheet of metal against a wall. "It will eventually wear away, as does his skin. But should he need to resume his former appearance in a hurry, I have another potion which will remove the stain from him."

"Good. We shall leave tomorrow. I do not wish to be a burden upon you any longer than necessary." Emrys softened his tone, so the words did not seem as harsh as they would otherwise have been.

"I understand."

"Now, if you will excuse us, Richard and I have preparations to make."

"In which case, I shall breakfast with you before you depart."

Joshua bowed and excused himself, leaving the Golden Knight and Emrys alone in the room. The scholar eased himself onto a nearby pallet bed, sighing as he did so. "Age takes its toll. Now, do you understand what we are going to do?"

"Aye, I do," Richard replied. He paused to examine his body once again, marvelling at its transformation. "But it does not feel right, deceiving others in order to achieve our goal. It is not the proper thing for a knight to do."

"No. It is not, But our enemy uses deception to further their ends - ."

"You cannot trust these Moslems."

Emrys rose from the bed and, with a sudden movement, slapped Richard across his left cheek. "Do not say such a thing! Our enemy is not the followers of Salah-ad-Din! Have you learnt nothing from your time in the Holy Land?" Richard rubbed at his face and tried to look suitably contrite. Emrys continued, this time more quietly. "They are an older enemy. Do not be confused by them, for otherwise they will be victorious. And I cannot let that be the case. Do not forget that."

"I shall try not to."

"Good. Now, we must pack our belongings for tomorrow. Make sure that you have everything you need. Otherwise we shall have to purchase it from Joshua." Emrys gave Richard a rueful smile. "And while he may be a friend, I am sure that he will still try to make a profit from us. Goodnight, Richard. Make ready for tomorrow."

"I will."

The next morning, after bidding farewell to their host, Richard of Warwick and Emrys led their mounts to the city gate. The sun had only just cleared the city walls, and there were still long shadows everywhere. The merchants were only beginning to set out their stalls and had not yet begun the business of haggling and trading that seemed to absorb so many of the city's population. While there were still a number of people on the streets and thoroughfares, it was nothing compared to the crush that had greeted them on their arrival. Nobody remarked on their appearance until they came to the city walls. There, a number of armed guards were on duty, inspecting the goods of those entering and leaving Tyre. As Richard caught sight of the officer in charge of them, he hesitated.

Emrys walked on a few paces before he noticed that Richard had stopped. "What is the matter? Are you having second thoughts?"

Richard joined the scholar. "There. By the gates. Do you recognise that knight? It is Alaric - the one I duelled with when we first came here."

Emrys scrutinised the guards. Behind the armed men, watching over them, was the armoured figure of Alaric, Julian of Galilee's lieutenant. "So it is. I thought that you had resolved your differences to the satisfaction of both of you?"

"So did I. But what if he remembers me?"

"A hardy son of the desert, like you? I am sure that you will be beneath his notice. And if not, then I am sure that I can get my money back from Joshua. Come."

The pair joined the queue of traders and travellers waiting to pass through Tyre's eastern gate. As they drew closer to the guards, Richard tried to conceal his nervousness. He stared straight ahead, hoping that his deception would not be uncovered. Then ...

"You! What is in those sacks?" One of the guards had stopped Emrys and was pointing at the bags hanging against the flanks of his ass.

The scholar shrugged. "A few goods. Provisions for my journey. Nothing more."

"Then we shall see." The guard moved to unhook one of the bags from its harness. Emrys glanced towards Richard, flashing him a look of concern. Then the scholar doubled over, coughing violently.

"Father!" Richard rushed forward, putting his arms around his companion. He could feel the old man's body shuddering and heaving. Was Emrys play-acting, or was he genuinely suffering? Richard prayed to Heaven that it was the former. He glanced up at the guard. "My father - he is old. He has fits like this."

The guard stood back, unsure what to do next. But his commander was more decisive. Emrys's coughing fit had attracted Alaric's attention, and the knight pushed his way through the crowd that had formed around the spectacle. "What is going on?" he demanded. "Explain!"

"My lord," the guard stuttered. "I beg your pardon, but I was about to search this man's belongings when - ."

"I have eyes, fool!" Alaric interjected. He knelt down beside Richard and Emrys, taking some of the scholar's weight upon himself. "Here, old man. Let me help you." Then Alaric turned to look at Richard, to offer him some reassurance. "Your father will be tended to," he began, then stopped. Richard felt his heart sink.

Alaric stood back. "I know you," he said to Richard. His hand went to his the hilt of his sword. "Explain yourself!"

Emrys uncurled and, with the speed of a snake, struck hard at Alaric's breastplate, knocking the knight backwards. "Quick!" the scholar called out. "We must ride!" He clambered onto the back of his ass.

Having seen their commander assaulted, the other guards on the gate reacted. They drew their swords and bullied their way through the spectators, raising a hue and cry as they did so. "Hey! Stop!"

Richard reached under his desert cloak and unsheathed his weapon, then turned to face Alaric. "I am sorry for this," he shouted, then slammed the pommel against Alaric's temple. The knight, not yet recovered from Emrys's sudden attack, was taken by surprise. For a moment he was motionless, then he fell sideways to the dusty ground. Richard grabbed his mount's reins and pulled himself up onto King's back. "Ride!" he shouted to Emrys.

By this time, the first of the guards had recovered his wits enough to lunge towards the Golden Knight. It was a clumsy effort, and Richard parried the blade effortlessly. A simple riposte sent the guard's sword flying into the crowd. However, two of his comrades were advancing towards Richard. The Golden Knight pulled hard on King's harness and the horse reared up, its hooves flailing through the air. The two guards fell back, holding their arms up to ward off any blows.

"Zakat!" Emrys's voice rang out above the clamour. "Zakat!" And Richard saw a cloth bag arc through the air, then burst upon the ground between him and the other guards. A shower of coins erupted from it, and the crowd surged in, grabbing at the gold. The remaining guards tried to beat their way through the press, but it was in vain.

"Now we ride!" Emrys shouted, and dug his heels into the ribs of his animal. It responded with a raucous and irritated "Eee-yaw!", then headed at speed towards the gate and the stony desert beyond. Unlike Emrys's ass, Richard needed no further spur. He wheeled King around and followed in the wake of Emrys's dust cloud.