The Ruby In Her Navel

by Barry Unsworth

  It was as I had surmised; they had studied the course of my life. I had sensed some intention of belittlement in his last words, something almost involuntary, as it seemed to me, habitual to him when addressing those he thought inferior.

  "You know so much," I said, "yet you do not know that there are no courses in the keeping of account-books at the School of Law of Bologna."

  An ugly expression flickered over his face but he sought to disguise it with a smile. "No man can know everything," he said.

  "It is enough that a man should know where to look," Wilfred said, a view natural enough in a keeper of archives. He got up from the table as he spoke and went to the door and opened it and gave a quick glance this way and that, down the passages between the shelves.

  "You will be expected," Atenulf said. "You will be received and shown to your quarters. You will wait until a certain person makes himself known to you. He will tell you that he comes from Avellino, so you will know he is the one. You will answer that you have a cousin there. To that he will say it makes you a neighbour. Not much more is required of you. You will hand over the money, the sum has been agreed. He will give you something from his person, a badge with a bird on it, in token that he has received the money. You will bear this back to me. You need know nothing more about it. It will be in your usual line of duty after all, nothing out of the ordinary, that is why you are sent. You are the pursebearer, is it not so? When you are not the purveyor of spectacles and shows."

  The sneer was back in his voice but it was not this that swayed me. Even without Yusuf's orders I was not disposed to be treated thus lightly and kept in ignorance. It was a question of dignity – once again I felt the eye of Alicia on me and remembered my vow to be worthy of her. She would not want me to be ingratiating towards this arrogant interloper. He was of higher rank than I, but he was acting under instructions, I felt sure of that, though why I was so sure I could not have said. Because of this he would not want anything that might appear as a mistake on his part, anything that might make him open to question.

  "You speak as if I had no choice but immediate acceptance of this mission," I said. "But that is not so, it is not a mission that comes within the tasks and duties of my Diwan, otherwise we would have had the notice ourselves and arranged the matter in the usual way without this naming of me from outside. I will need to know more before I can agree to go."

  "Agree to go?" he said. "Harken to this young cockerel, Wilfred. Your Office has agreed to this interview and that is tantamount to acceptance of the mission."

  "Animus promptus consensum valet," Wilfred said.

  "That may sound like wisdom but it is not, in Latin or in any other language," I said. "Willingness to consider does not imply readiness to agree, either in law or religion. One need not be versed in logic to understand so much. The greatly revered Peter Abelard, in a letter of reply to Bernard of Clairvaux, draws attention to these quite separate states, the one exemplifying the separateness and even loneliness of each individual soul, the other leading to the unity of all souls in Christ. No doubt you are familiar with this text?" I was by no means certain that the source was to be found in Abelard, and was relieved to find that neither of them knew enough of the matter to dissent. Taking advantage of the silence that followed, I said, "Who is this man that I must meet? What is the money for? How can I return and present a report to the lord of my Diwan with this information lacking, particularly as the money is to be accounted through us? He would never accede to it, he would protest to the Curia. With all respect, Excellency, if it is the case that you are not authorised to answer these questions, you must seek the authority."

  "It is permitted to me to say more, at discretion," he said coldly. "But this obduracy of yours will be made known. The man is a Neapolitan, his name is Spaventa. He has a mark in Constantinople."

  "A mark? You mean a quarry? He is an assassin then."

  "He is presently under our orders."

  "I see. I suppose he is one who will be under orders to any, if the pay is enough. And who is marked out for him?"

  "I will explain it to you. Corfu has fallen to the Byzantines, as all of us know to our cost. Only by treachery could this have happened. They had provisions for a year and fresh water in plenty. It is a well-known fact that the citadel is impregnable. For the Greeks it was like shooting up to the sky, they could never have taken it. Someone opened the gates to the enemy. In the dead of night, someone lowered the drawbridge, pulled the bolts from the gates, leaned over the battlement above the gateway and sawed through the chains."

  I was discovering in Atenulf an accomplished storyteller. His eyes held mine, he had lowered his voice for greater effect. I could begin to see now the reason for his success: building the King's fame was also a kind of storytelling. His recounting of such sustained and deliberate treachery had brought horror to my mind. I saw the Evil One crouched at the side of the traitor while he filed and sawed at the chains. "He must have had accomplices," I said.

  "That cannot be known now. But the captain of the garrison, where is he?"

  "How should I know?"

  "I will tell you. He is in Constantinople, enjoying the protection of Manuel Comnenus, who has granted him the post of Commander of the Imperial Guard. No need to look further, would you not agree?"

  "So this Spaventa…"

  "He will be the executioner of this foul traitor. It will be known to all that no one betrays our King and lives to profit from it."

  "And he can be trusted not to talk?"

  "A man who has made killing his trade does not talk, either about his failures or his successes. He would not last long if he did. You must know this yourself – you have carried money to assassins before, have you not? This Spaventa is very experienced and very careful. It is because of this he is so expensive – the money you are taking is only the first half of his hire, the second will come when the work is done.

  He is gifted, very gifted. He can make death look like an accident or a suicide, he can make it a public spectacle or a private disgrace. He is an artist, a shaper of circumstance, he is one who understands the importance of the symbol."

  His harshness of demeanour had quite gone, melted away in the warmth of his praise. He had spoken as one master commending another, a man after his own heart.

  "So," I said, as I rose, "in Constantinople it will be the public spectacle?"

  "The precise manner of it will be left to him. He must make it notable, memorable. Such are my instructions to him – I am entrusted with the fame of it, the mark it makes on men's minds. Perhaps this recreant will be found hanging upside down in some public place, with his testicles in his mouth, perhaps he will be wearing women's clothes, or a false nose and jester's cap. Perhaps only his head will be found, mounted on a spike. Something men will remember and be warned by. They will know the power and scope of our King, who can reach a long arm to be revenged on those who have played him false."

  "And the name of the man to be killed?"

  "Enrico Gravina."

  I took my leave on this, satisfied that I had prevailed upon them to give me the information I demanded. I did not myself believe that these orders had come from the King, he was at a level high above. It seemed to me that this Spaventa, and those who had thought of hiring him, and Atenulf who was entrusted with the fame of it, and I who would carry the money, all belonged with my friend Muhammed, creatures feasting and fighting below the surface of the dark water on which the King's silver barge rode serene, enveloped in light. Yusuf's words came back to my mind: He is just, unjust things are done in his name… But this was not unjust, the traitor deserved to die. Would it not be a worthier thing to abduct him, bring him to trial in the King's court before the people he had wronged? This would not be beyond the power of resolute men. But it was not our King Roger who decided, he had no knowledge of it, it was the creatures below the surface. Why did I labour so to keep the knowledge of this death that was planned from the King's mind, to keep him sheathed i
n brightness? And why, to my faltering spirit, did the labour seem always greater?

  XIX

  That same day I went to Yusuf and gave him a full account.

  "So Wilfred sought to settle the matter with four words of Latin," he said. "That is very typical of the Roman clergy. For them, Latin is the magic formula. No matter what the problem, by expressing it in Latin you have solved it before you reach the verb. And this faith is founded on the very thing that should give them pause, the fact that so few words are needed. Latin is excellent for inscriptions on tombstones, where space is lacking. But no one should dream that such conciseness serves the interests of truth, rather the opposite is the case, truth is obscured because no room is left for doubt. The Arabic language is far superior, it is looser and more ample. We do not see truth as a dead butterfly to pin down, we follow the path of its flight through the fields and forests where it lives. "

  He was silent for some moments while the pleasure these comparisons had caused him faded from his face. "Wilfred of Aachen," he said. "Wilfred of Aachen was for some years a monk at the monastery of Groze on the Moselle. Among the community there was Gerbert, who has had great advancement since and is soon to become the Pope's Rector at Benevento, a very important post, which is in the grant of the Roman Curia, but usually given to an Italian, not a German."

  "Perhaps in his native place there are those to recommend him."

  "Yes, perhaps so."

  I had not told Yusuf of my meeting with Gerbert and his companions in the Royal Chapel, not thinking it of any importance, but I had told him of seeing Gerbert and Atenulf in close conversation together in the courtyard of the church of San Giovanni, and I think this was in his mind now, though he made no direct mention of it. "Perhaps it is so," he said again. "We will try to learn more of this prelate, I have the feeling that he will repay our scrutiny, also the archivist. It may be no more than chance, but there is the form of a triangle in it, and I have found that rarely comes by chance."

  "A triangle?"

  "Gerbert and Atenulf, Atenulf and Wilfred, Wilfred and Gerbert."

  It seemed to me more in the nature of a circle, but I did not say so. "I see, yes. Well, as I have told you, lord, they were very unwilling to explain their purposes."

  "Of course, you made it a matter of your own dignity, you did not declare you were acting on my orders."

  "How did you know this, lord?"

  "I did not exactly know it, but I know you, my fine fellow. Well, it makes no difference. They were expecting you to insist, whatever the reason. They would have been disappointed if you had not."

  I stared at him. "Disappointed?"

  "They knew well that Yusuf Ibn Mansur would require to know these things before releasing money through his own chancery."

  "But if they knew it, why play these games?"

  "It was not exactly a game, or at least not one that is played for amusement only. Think, Thurstan, my young man. Must I be for ever giving you lessons? These years with me and still lacking in suspicion? Or is it that your mind was on other things?"

  As I looked at him now in silence, at a loss as to how to reply, it came to me that my mind had indeed been on other things and that this was something useless to speak of to Yusuf, he would never understand because he would never be seduced by his imagination. Perhaps Atenulf was cleverer than I had thought, cleverer than he wanted known. The gifted and versatile Spaventa, the demon-led traitor sawing at the chains, the King in his silver barge…

  "You are full of duty," Yusuf said, "and you are careful to fulfil orders, and you are brave, but you are too open, too sunny, you must cultivate the flower of suspicion, which is a shade-loving plant. Many qualities serve us who serve the King, intelligence of deduction, instinct of the creature, wisdom of experience. But two things are essential above all others, and they are faithfulness and suspicion, and no amount of the one can make up for a lack in the other. Why the delay, why the reluctance? Come out of the sun and think."

  "Yes, of course. By their seeming unwilling I would be the more likely to believe."

  "Exactly. In this our world a readiness to speak is taken for the mark of the liar. You had paid a price, you see. You had asserted yourself against Atenulf's greater authority, you had insisted in face of his displeasure. We always value more what we have paid for, is it not so?

  And the conclusion of all this?"

  "If they wanted me so much to believe it…"

  "It is the less likely to be true, yes. Good, we are coming closer. But we must not fall into the opposite error of supposing it to be false. It is in accord with Atenulf's care for the King's fame. We must simply keep in mind that the reason they have given may not be the true one."

  "Then the money may be intended for some other purpose?"

  "It is possible, yes. And since the payment is to be made through the accounts of our Office… you see?"

  "Yes, I see well. We may be held to account for the use to which it is put."

  "There were two of them. Why was Wilfred needed? As I understand from you, he did not take much part in it. But the oaths of two weigh against the oath of one, if it comes to swearing. We can be sure no one else has made public mention of this money or this mission. So it might in the end be made to seem that the purposes were ours from the beginning. And since we cannot know for certain what these purposes are…"

  He paused at this and narrowed his eyes and thrust out his hands with the palms upwards, as if to receive some blessing or guidance from above. "Only God sees equally the hidden and the revealed. There are those who work against us, who would wish to see me discredited. We are watched by famished eyes, Thurstan, the eyes of wolves. They want me dead, but it is not only that: they want this Diwan. They would fall on it, dismember it, tear it limb from limb, sharing out the powers and prerogatives that belong to us and gorging on them. The Royal Diwan is not a monument, it is not like a castle with strong walls, it has no defence but the King's favour. Chanceries are born and die, they unite and divide, they come into being or cease to be at the will of the King – and those close to him. If our enemies succeed, the diwan al-tahqiq al-ma'mur will exist no more, not even as a memory. We must judge it safer now to break this money into smaller sums and find entries of an innocuous nature for them. Then silence will wrap round the money.

  Silence is golden, as the proverb says. In this case not even the clink of the gold will be heard."

  He smiled, as if pleased, but his eyes rested on mine, and I felt he was watching for the effect of his words. My faculty of suspicion, woefully inadequate as he had deemed it, was well roused now. Not Atenulf's powers of narration had lulled my mind: it was he, Yusuf, who had done it, by appearing to take seriously – even to be angered by – their withholding of the information, only to tell me on my return that he had not believed in it from the first. Why had he disarmed me thus in advance? To make some use of my ignorance that I was still too stupid to see? Once again I felt used by him, tricked by him. Why was he telling me what he proposed to do with the money? It was rare with him to confide his intentions in this way. He ran no risk – the accounting would be skilfully done as he knew well how. If he thought I had new masters, would he so confide in me? Perhaps he was testing me, perhaps he wanted me, for reasons I could not fathom, to make known to others these intentions of his.

  Even as I smiled and nodded with a full air of comprehension, playing the part still that I had always played, of favoured pupil, the questions twisted through my mind. Amidst all perplexities, however, one thing had become very clear to me: I, Thurstan Beauchamp, was the one who would bear the purse and run the risk; there would be no record of the money anywhere, no one would admit to any knowledge of it; if anything miscarried while it was in my possession I would be in serious trouble. There and then, still meeting Yusuf's gaze with what firmness I could, I resolved that if I succeeded in delivering this money, from the moment of handing it over I would deny all knowledge of it in my turn, I would lend my name
to no statement made by anyone about it, including Yusuf. I would be in Potenza as the King's purveyor, and for no other reason in the world.

  Thus I denied my loyal support to Yusuf even before he claimed it. And when I remember that denial now, I cannot but think that it played its part in what came after. Not much more was said between us. As was his way, he warmed to me at parting, said he had heard of the great success of my singing coming after the great success of the dancers. "A night of successes," he said, and there was slyness in this, but no ill-nature.

  "And the sorcot," he said. "Another new one? And the chainse?"

  Later, when I drew the money, we spoke together again and he wished me god-speed, but I have no recollection of his face on that occasion, or of what we said. What I remember now is the refuge we both took in this habitual topic of my clothes, the look of amusement and guile he wore when he teased me about them, and underlying this the unspoken knowledge of the hurt we had suffered, not something gone, but something spawned by the air we breathed every day, the air that nurtured the shade-loving plant he had spoken of.

  These are memories that return now. In the days that followed, while I waited for the order to leave, there was one event only and it filled my mind, eclipsing all else. It was Caspar who brought the message and he came to my lodgings to deliver it, led upstairs by Signora Caterina, who always made her wheezing more audible when there was a visitor, in the hope of a gift either from him or from me. It was a note written on parchment, secured by two strands of cord with a seal of red wax to join them, and on the wax the imprint of the ring I had given her, a circle with a tiny scarab in the centre. Rarely can so few words have given such delight to any mortal man. She would come to Potenza in the King's following, accompanied by some members of her family. We would announce our betrothal before them and before the King himself, and by this act our vows would be made binding. My beloved, I count the hours.