Before him was an enormous white horse, rearing over him with a frightening scream.
When the blinding dust had settled a bit, the boy trembled at what he saw.
Astride the animal was a horseman dressed completely in black, with a falcon perched on his left shoulder.
He wore a turban and his entire face, except for his eyes, was covered with a black kerchief.
He appeared to be a messenger from the desert, but his presence was much more powerful than that of a mere messenger.
The strange horseman drew an enormous, curved sword from a scabbard mounted on his saddle. The steel of its blade glittered in the light of the moon.
“Who dares to read the meaning of the flight of the hawks?” he demanded,
so loudly that his words seemed to echo through the fifty thousand palm trees of Al-Fayoum.
“It is I who dared to do so,” said the boy.
He was reminded of the image of Santiago Matamoros, mounted on his white horse, with the infidels beneath his hooves.
This man looked exactly the same, except that now the roles were reversed.
“It is I who dared to do so,” he repeated, and he lowered his head to receive a blow from the sword.
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