The setting sun bathed the temples of Pi-Ramses in heavenly gold. Dubbed "the Turquoise City" after the colored tiles on its buildings, the capital Ramses the Great had built in the Nile Delta was the picture of wealth, power, and beauty.

Life was good in Pi-Ramses, but the Sardinian giant Serramanna took no pleasure in the balmy evening or the pink-streaked sky. Decked out in his horned helmet, sword at his side, whiskers curled, the former pirate who had become Ramses' personal bodyguard rode grimly toward the villa where the Hittite prince Uri-Teshoop had spent the last several years under house arrest. Uri-Teshoop, the deposed son of the late Emperor Muwattali, Ramses' sworn enemy. Uri-Teshoop, who had usurped the throne from his ailing father, only to be outmaneuvered by Hattusili, the emperor's brother. Uri-Teshoop had been spirited out of Hatti by Ahsha, the head of Egyptian diplomacy, who was Ramses' boyhood friend.

Serramanna smiled. The fearless Anatolian warrior, a runaway! The crowning irony was that Ramses, the man Uri-Teshoop hated most in the world, was the one who had granted him political asylum in exchange for information about the Hittite troops and their state of readiness.

During Year Twenty-one of Ramses' reign, to the surprise of both peoples, Egypt and Hatti had signed a peace treaty, pledging mutual assistance in case of outside attack. Uri-Teshoop feared the worst. Would he not make a prime scapegoat, the perfect token for Ramses to offer Hattusili to seal their pact? Yet the Pharaoh, respecting the principle of asylum, had refused to extradite his guest.

By now, Uri-Teshoop no longer counted. And Serramanna thoroughly disliked the mission that Ramses had sent him on tonight.

The Hittite's villa was set in a palm grove on the northern edge of town. At least he'd had a comfortable life in this land of the pharaohs that he had dreamed of destroying.

Serramanna admired Ramses and would serve him faithfully to the end. However reluctantly, he would carry out the king's terrible order.

The entrance to the villa was flanked by two of Serramanna's handpicked guards, armed with clubs and daggers.

"Nothing to report?"

"Nothing, Chief. The Hittite is sleeping it off in the garden, down by the pool."

The hulking Sard went through the gate and lumbered down the path to the pool. Three other guards kept a permanent watch on the former commander-in-chief of the Hittite army, who spent his time eating, drinking, swimming, and dozing.

Swallows swooped high in the sky. A hoopoe grazed Serramanna's shoulder. Jaws tense, fists clenched, eyes glowering, he prepared to do his duty. For the first time, he was sorry that he worked for Ramses.

Like an animal sensing danger, Uri-Teshoop awoke before the giant's heavy tread sounded on the path.

Tall and muscular, Uri-Teshoop had long, flowing locks; fleecy red hair covered his bare chest. Not even the Anatolian winter daunted him, and he had lost none of his strength.

Lying on the flagstone rim of the pool, eyes half-closed, he watched as Ramses the Great's bodyguard drew nearer.

So tonight was the night.

Ever since the signing of the outrageous peace treaty between Egypt and Hatti, Uri-Teshoop had felt his time running out. A hundred times he had thought of escaping, but Serramanna's men had never given him a chance. He'd escaped extradition only to be bled like a pig, slaughtered by a brute as ruthless as himself.

"Get up," ordered Serramanna.

Uri-Teshoop was not accustomed to being ordered around. Slowly, as if savoring his final act, he rose to face the man sent to slit his throat.

The Sard's expression was one of barely contained fury.

"Go ahead, butcher," spat the Hittite. "Do what your master told you. I won't even give you the pleasure of fighting me."

Serramanna's fingers gripped the pommel of his short sword.

"Clear out."

Uri-Teshoop could hardly believe his ears.

"What do you mean?"

"You're free."

"Free? To do what?"

"To leave this place and go where you please. Pharaoh is applying the law. There's no longer any reason to hold you here."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's a sign of peace. But if you make the mistake of staying in Egypt and cause the least trouble here, I'll arrest you. You won't be a political exile anymore, just a common-law criminal. Give me the slightest cause to run you through with my sword, and believe me, I will."

"But tonight you're not allowed to touch me. Am I right?" Uri-Teshoop taunted.

"Get out!"