"Richard!" John of Chester's voice cut through the Golden Knight's stupor. "What is - ?" But he was not allowed to finish his question, as Richard of Warwick grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the lee of a nearby tent.

"Did you see it?" the Golden Knight hissed at his companion.

"See what?" John protested. "Have you gone mad from the sun? What is it that has deranged you?"

Richard took a calming breath. "There is warrior just by the tent with the green-striped awning. A slim warrior, wearing a dark hood in the style of the eastern tribes. Look carefully at the weapon they are carrying. Describe it to me."

"You have gone mad!" the young noble retorted.

"Please!"

"Very well. As you are my bro- ."

"Please! Just look! Before he goes elsewhere."

John felt himself being shoved back into the lane that ran through the camp. There, exactly as Richard had described, was the slim warrior. He was in animated discussion with another of Salah'a'din's army - one with a beard that had been oiled and curled in the Persian style, John noted. Although he could not understand the language they spoke in, John was sure that the two warriors were in dispute. Then he remembered the task that he had been set. Casting his gaze down the slim warrior's body, he caught sight of a dagger with a strange handle. Was this what Richard had been talking about? John retreated to where his companion was waiting.

"That warrior - he has two weapons. One is a sword; one of those kill-ees that they like so much here."

"And the other?" Richard asked impatiently.

"A dagger."

"Just a dagger?"

The tension in Richard's voice forced John to remember what he had seen. "It had a strange handle. Burnished and curved. Too fancy for ordinary use, or so I would judge."

Richard nodded. "Come. Let us see what this warrior is up to, then." He strode out from their place of concealment. John of Chester sighed, shook his head and followed his friend. The hooded warrior was still deep in conversation.

"What is this about?" John asked.

"The dagger," Richard replied in a low whisper. "It is the symbol of some strange cult of killers. Emrys believes that they intend to sow discord and disrupt the negotiations that His Royal Majesty is engaged in."

"And I suppose that Welsh madman told you it had something to do with demons and sorcery?"

Richard did not deign to answer. Instead, he took John by the arm. "They are leaving. Come!" And, indeed, the two tribesmen were hurrying away, bent on some unknown purpose. The two knights followed them at a discreet distance, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Fortunately, their quarry was intent on their business. The two warriors made their way to a tent at the edge of the camp. There, they took their leave of each other; the hooded one entering the tent, the bearded one returning from whence he had come.

"What now?" John asked his friend.

Richard came to an instant decision. "You follow that one," he said, pointing after the bearded man. "I shall deal with the other one."

John of Chester turned away to carry out the task he had been given, then paused. "Do not do anything foolish. We do not want to cause the Earl of Gaunt to be any more angry at us than he already is." And, with that, he went on his way.

Richard looked around to see that he was not being observed, then moved as stealthily as a panther towards the tent the hooded man had entered. He paused to listen, but could hear nothing untoward. Very well, Richard thought. We shall see what awaits us within. And, with that, he lifted the fabric of the canopy of the tent and ducked under it.

The inside of the tent was dimly lit and filled with chests and baskets of various sizes and shapes. A strange and heady mixture of aromas hung in the air, indicating that some of the containers were full or had only recently been emptied of their contents. Richard paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust, then slipped quietly through the maze of baggage. Where was the mysterious warrior? Richard drew his sword, ready for the worst. But what he found took him by surprise.

Instead of the hooded man, there was a woman, clad in silks that exposed as much of her golden flesh as they concealed. Beneath her clothing, such as it was, Richard could see that she was slim and muscled, with the build and grace of a dancer. Embarrassed at what he saw and the feeling that the strange woman aroused in him, Richard turned away and, before he could stop himself, blurted out, "Forgive me!"

The woman turned swiftly, pivoting on her toes, and grabbed something from the ground beside her. It was a dagger; its point towards the Golden Knight. Richard tried to calm her. "Please. Forgive me," he began. "I did not intent to intrude upon you. But I am looking for a ... ." He stopped. Of course she would not understand his words, but hopefully she would understand his intent. He continued to speak in a soothing tone. "Please, do not worry. I am -."

"Al faris al dhahabiu," the woman said. "Yes. I know." She took two steps back from him, then crouched as if ready to spring.

Richard fought back his amazement. "You understand me?"

"I do indeed." The woman began to move sideways, circling the Golden Knight and eyeing him carefully. Richard grasped his sword tighter, suddenly uneasy. Did she mean to attack him?

"Then, please, understand that I do not mean you any harm."

"Oh, but I disagree," the woman replied. "And I am sure that there are others who will believe me." Then she opened her mouth and screamed loudly. Richard leapt forward, intending to silence her; but the woman scrambled backwards.

"Please! Be quiet!" he hissed. However the woman did not seemed inclined to listen to him. Instead she took a deep breath and let out another ear-piercing scream. From outside the tent came the sound of voices - angry voices. The woman must have heard these as well, for she turned to look at the tent's entrance flap just as it was torn aside.

Three figures stood silhouetted in the bright light that flooded in from outside. One of them pointed and shouted something in his native tongue, then leapt forward with his sword drawn. Richard parried the blow, then thrust forward. His blade slid down his opponent's sword and twisted, knocking it to one side. He didn't want to kill these men - then the negotiations would be ruined and it would be his fault! But if he let them live, then they would tell their masters about this - but at least he would have a chance to try and explain everything that had happened.

The two other fighters rushed towards him, uttering their fearsome ululating battlecries. Together, the three of them wove a web of glittering steel around the Golden Knight, forcing him back into the maze of chests and boxes. Richard scrambled around the obstacles, throwing the baskets at his attackers in an effort to distract them. One of them fell back, but the others continued to press him. Again, Richard parried and riposted. His blade slit the sword arm of one of the attackers. The warrior howled in pain and dropped to his knees, his blood staining the floor of the tent a dark crimson. The second warrior recovered from Richard's missile and, simultaneously with his remaining companion, unleashed another flurry of steel.

Richard rushed forward, slamming the pommel of his sword into the face of one of the warriors, dropping him like a poleaxed steer. Then he twisted and slashed at the last one. His target danced back, then turned and ran. Richard made to follow, but a blow from behind caught him by surprise. He spun around to face his new attacker. It was the woman. In her hand, Richard saw that she was holding a flame-handled dagger. Of course! He had been played for a fool!

"Thank you, Golden Knight!" she called out. "You have made my job easier! Wu Gu Xian will be most grateful!" Then she turned and ran for the wall of the tent, rolling under the edge of the canopy before vanishing away ...