The Saracen: Land of the Infidel

by Robert Shea

  XLI

  The stained glass in the cathedral's deeply recessed rear windows brokethe sunlight of the April morning into blue, yellow, and red beams.Walking slowly through the nave, Simon wondered why Sordello hadinsisted this time on meeting him in person in the cathedral rather thansending his news through Ana. The departure from their routine gaveSimon an uneasy feeling that some disaster was about to befall him.

  The miraculous altar cloth with the dark spots in its center was mountedin a gilded frame above the altar. On each side of it a tall whitecandle burned. At the foot of the altar two priests in black cassocksand white surplices knelt on benches, their heads resting on theirfolded arms so that it was impossible to tell whether they were sleepingor praying. In the four months since the cloth had been brought toOrvieto, it had never been left unattended. The pope had decreed thatpriests in hourly shifts would watch day and night before the blood ofthe Savior.

  Simon suspected reverence was not the only motive for this vigil. Heknew several tales of famous relics being stolen, not only from piouszeal, but because relics attracted pilgrims and their money. And thepeople of Bolsena might still be jealous.

  Hearing footsteps behind him, Simon approached the altar, genuflected,and walked into the shadows on the left side of the cathedral. He pausedby a fluted pillar that rose like a tree trunk. Approaching him was abeggar in a tattered gray cloak that hung to his ankles. A deep hood hidhis face. The man gripped Simon's arm. The face of Sordello looked outof the shadows under the hood. Simon pulled his arm free.

  "I have something important to tell Your Signory, but it is not aboutCardinal Ugolini and his circle." Sordello spoke in a hoarse whisper."The Filippeschi are going to make a surprise attack on the PalazzoMonaldeschi."

  The news hit Simon like a kick in the belly.

  The Tartars--and he and his men--would be caught in the middle. Hethought back to Alain's murder. Even since then he had felt that Orvietocould be a death trap for him and all his men.

  Simon leaned forward to peer into Sordello's pinkish eyes. "When willthe attack come?"

  "Tonight, after vespers."

  _Tonight!_ Now Simon's blood froze. _No time! No time!_ a voice shriekedinside him. He wanted to run back to the palace shouting warnings allthe way. It took all his strength to keep him standing with Sordello, toforce his mind, galloping like a runaway horse, to slow down and framequestions.

  "How did you find out?"

  "Tavern talk. Some of Giancarlo's hired bravos were drinking withFilippeschi men."

  Sweat that felt like a cold rain broke out all over Simon's body. TheTartars--he must get them out of the Monaldeschi palace. But thecontessa had been his hostess for many months. He himself had no quarrelwith the Filippeschi, but he had an obligation to defend the contessa.

  "How long have you known this?"

  "I just learned it last night, but they must have been preparing formonths."

  "Why _now_?"

  Sordello's eyes met his. "The Filippeschi think the Monaldeschi arebetraying Italy to you French."

  If the Filippeschi were attacking now because he was at the PalazzoMonaldeschi, then indeed he had a quarrel with them, whether or not hewanted one. And it was his fault, in a sense, that the contessa was indanger.

  "Betraying Italy to the French? What does that mean?"

  Sordello ticked off points on his fingers. "The pope is French. He asksthe contessa to take the Tartars into her house. Then you and Cardinalde Verceuil come with the Tartars. And now everyone has heard that thepope wants Charles d'Anjou to come in and take Sicily and southern Italyfrom King Manfred. The Filippeschi want to turn the tide now, they say,before the French own all of Italy."

  The face of Uncle Charles flashed vividly before Simon's mind, the bignose, the staring eyes. When they had talked of this mission over a yearago at the Louvre, he had said nothing of Sicily, had spoken only of theliberation of Jerusalem and the destruction of Islam. Was Sicily what hereally wanted--or perhaps even all of Italy?

  What should he do? It struck Simon with frightening force that there wasno one but he to take the responsibility. He was in command. He mustmake the plans and the decisions. His heart thudded frantically, and heprayed that Sordello could not see the consternation that filled him.

  "What forces do they have, what weapons?"

  Sordello shook his head. "As to that, Your Signory, I know very little.I have been at Cardinal Ugolini's mansion, not among the Filippeschi. Iwould guess they must have at least five hundred men and siege weapons.They would be mad to start this thing with less."

  "Five hundred men and siege weapons!"

  Simon pictured the Monaldeschi palace with its great tower crumblingunder a bombardment of boulders. He saw men swarming over it like ants.He saw the defenders lying dead in the ruins--de Puys, Thierry, theArmenians, the Venetians--himself. He saw the Tartars with their throatscut.

  Again he felt the urge to run back to the palace to prepare at once.Again he suppressed the urge so he could ask more questions.

  "Where did they get such forces?"

  Sordello shrugged. "They are a big family. They have relatives in theoutlying towns."

  Simon bent down to look deep into Sordello's bloodshot eyes. "Are yousure Ugolini and David of Trebizond and the rest are not involved? If weFrench and the Tartars are the provocation, Ugolini must be behindthis."

  Sordello tapped his cheek just under his right eye. "Your Signory, Iwatch them as closely as those priests watch the miraculous altar cloth.Ugolini has been in despair all winter, since Fra Tomasso changed sides.He buries himself in his cabinet with his magical instruments. Davidhas lost interest in the Tartars and thinks only about trade. He talksto Giancarlo of making up a caravan to go back to Trebizond. The two ofthem left for Perugia on business yesterday."

  "What about Giancarlo's bravos?"

  "Altogether, Giancarlo has hired only a dozen such men, includingmyself. We guard David's goods and escort his caravans." Sordello waveda hand in dismissal.

  "And what of the cardinal's niece?" said Simon, trying not to soundespecially interested.

  Sordello shrugged. "That lovely lady stays apart. She goes to church,she reads, she paints."

  Worried though he was about the impending Filippeschi attack, Simon'sheart felt lightened by joy. Sophia was innocent. His love for her wasvindicated. After this was over he would come to her and broachmarriage.

  "You must watch Madonna Sophia for me," Simon said. "Stay close to her.Do not let her go out tonight."

  "Stay close to her." Sordello grinned. "That will not be hard, YourSignory."

  Simon seized the front of Sordello's tunic. "Never speak that way ofher."

  Sordello jerked away from Simon and brushed his tunic. "I am a man, YourSignory. Do not treat me like a slave." The coarse face was pale withoutraged pride.

  _He forgets his place so easily. But there is no one else to guardSophia for me._

  "I want you to be thinking about her safety, and that alone," he said ina calmer voice.

  Sordello bowed. "I understand, Your Signory." But resentment stillburned in his narrowed eyes.

  In the midst of his fear, like a single candle glowing in a pitch-blackcathedral, Simon felt a tingle of anticipation. There was something inhim, deeply buried but powerful, that keenly looked forward to takingcommand in battle.

  "If you learn any more, try to get word to me," he told Sordello.

  He turned and hurried through the nave of the cathedral to the frontdoors, still holding in check the urge to run.

  * * * * *

  "For them to attack is pazzia," said the contessa. "We have twice themen-at-arms they do. Yet I pray God this rumor is true. By tomorrowmorning Marco di Filippeschi will be hanging from our battlements." Thecords in her neck stood out, her nose was thrust forward like a falcon'sbeak, and her eyes glittered.

  Simon said, "With respect, Contessa, they must have more men than youdo. I was told they might have five hu
ndred. And siege machines."

  They were seated in the small council room of the Monaldeschipalace--Simon, the contessa, de Verceuil, Sire Henri de Puys, and FriarMathieu--around a circular table of warm brown wood.

  "But surely we have better men," said Henri de Puys in French. "Whatsort of fighters could these Philippe-whatever-they-are muster?Routiers, highwaymen?"

  Friar Mathieu turned to de Verceuil. "Might I suggest that Your Eminenceuse your influence with Pope Urban. Perhaps his holiness can stop thisbattle."

  "Yes," said de Verceuil. "I will try to speak to him. But he is sick,and pays little attention to anything."

  _Probably de Verceuil is annoyed because he did not think first of goingto the pope._

  "I should think it would endanger his health even more if a war brokeout in Orvieto," said Friar Mathieu.

  "I will _see_ him," said de Verceuil. "But I will also arm myself and mymen to help defend this place."

  Simon expected de Verceuil to next propose himself as commander of thedefense, but, to his delight, the cardinal had nothing more to say. Thenthe suspicion crossed his mind that de Verceuil did not want to have totake the blame in case of defeat.

  "Grazie, Your Eminence," said the contessa.

  Simon said, "I must go to Signore d'Ucello. Surely the podesta will notlet civil war break out in the city he governs."

  The contessa laughed, a knowing cackle. "Go to him if you like, but youwaste your time. He cannot--will not--stop the Filippeschi. He hasFilippeschi relatives, you know. But he could not stop me, either, if Ichose to attack them."

  Friar Mathieu said, "Perhaps we should take the ambassadors to the papalpalace. That would get them out of harm's way until this is over."

  Simon's body went rigid. The Tartars were his responsibility. He wouldnever give them up to the pope's men-at-arms.

  "No!" he said. "The duty of guarding them is mine, and I will surrenderit to no one."

  De Puys struck the table with his open palm. "Bravely spoken,Monseigneur."

  Friar Mathieu sighed.

  De Verceuil pointed a finger at Simon. "Count, you have no right to riskthe ambassadors' lives just for your own glory."

  Simon looked around the table. He was the youngest person here, and theywere treating him like a child. He remembered the Doge Zeno's threat tohave him thrown into the water of Venice's San Marco Canal. Heremembered the many times de Verceuil had been overbearing with him. Tothink _that_ man would accuse anyone else of being too concerned withhis own glory.

  He was about to shout defiance when he thought of royal councils he hadattended as a page to King Louis. Those close to the king oftendisagreed with him, but they usually ended up doing what he wanted.Louis was perhaps the strongest man, in his gentle way, Simon had evermet, but he had never heard him raise his voice.

  Instead of defying de Verceuil and the others, he tried to speak withdignity, even humility, as King Louis himself might.

  "His Majesty's brother, Count Charles, entrusted this task to me. ShallI give it up at the first threat? Shall I turn over the ambassadors'protection to men unknown to me, some of whom may be moved by the samehatred of us French that moves the Filippeschi? I have a duty not to letthe ambassadors go beyond the walls I guard."

  When he finished there was silence.

  Friar Mathieu said, "Count Simon makes an excellent point. John andPhilip may well be safer guarded by our men, even under attack."

  Now that they had agreed, Simon's heart sank. If the Tartars were killedin the coming battle because he had insisted on keeping them in thepalace, he would bear the guilt. Instead of restoring his name, he wouldend by plunging it deeper into the mire.

  De Puys looked from Simon to the cardinal and said, "Perhaps our knightsand crossbowmen could go with the Tartars to the Pope's palace."

  "No!" cried the contessa. "Now, when I am attacked because I opened myhome to the Tartars and the French, will you all abandon me? All the menof my family are dead but the boy Vittorio." She turned to Simon andseized his wrist with her clawlike hand. "You must stay and defend me.You must be my cavaliere."

  Simon pressed her hand in both of his and saw tears running down herwithered cheeks.

  "I would not think of leaving you, Contessa."

  "But, Contessa," said Friar Mathieu, "if the Tartars were to leave yourpalace, the Filippeschi might not attack you."

  "No, no." The contessa shook her head. "If they think they are strongenough to attack me, they will. They have long sought to kill me andVittorio. Canaglia! May God send that little bastard Marco and all theFilippeschi straight to hell!"

  Friar Mathieu winced and made the sign of the cross.

  Inwardly Simon winced, too, as he always did at the word bastard. But,bastard or not, he was about to command a palace under siege. He felthis chest swelling at the thought.

  * * * * *

  The candlelit audience chamber of the podesta was hung with sombermaroon drapes drawn against the night air. On the wall behind d'Ucello,a tapestry depicted Jesus and Barabbas being offered to the crowd inJerusalem while Pilate washed his hands. Simon had never seen such alarge scene with such finely embroidered figures, and he admired italoud.

  "I keep it here as a reminder that a judge who heeds the popular clamormay make a grave error," said the small man behind the large table. "Howmay I serve you, Count?"

  As Simon told the podesta what he knew of the planned Filippeschiassault on the contessa's palace, d'Ucello leaned back in a tall chairthat seemed too big for him, his eyes distant, the corners of his mouthturned down under his thin mustache.

  When Simon finished, d'Ucello asked, "Are Cardinal Ugolini or any of hisguests involved in this?"

  _The very question I asked Sordello. Interesting that the podesta sharesmy suspicions._

  "The person who warned me said they were not."

  D'Ucello peered at him. "And who warned you?"

  "I would rather not say. I have an informant in Cardinal Ugolini'shousehold."

  "Really? Good for you." The podesta gave him a look of amused respectthat kindled a warm glow of pride in him. "Well, Your Signory, if thereis a battle between the Monaldeschi and the Filippeschi, I can donothing about it."

  Simon was swept by strange mixed feelings. He was ready to do almostanything to prevent the coming battle. But in the midst of his despairat d'Ucello's refusal to help, he kept seeing himself in armor rallyinghis men on the Monaldeschi battlements.

  But he had to try to persuade d'Ucello to help. He could not leavewithout having done his best.

  "Is it not your duty to keep the peace in Orvieto?"

  "All my watchmen together are not a tenth of the number of armed men theMonaldeschi and the Filippeschi can put into the streets. I assure youthat if the watch did try to stop the fight, the Monaldeschi and theFilippeschi would join forces and annihilate my men before they went onto tear each other to pieces. Look, Your Signory, mine is a lifetimeappointment, which means that how long I live depends on how well Iplease those who appointed me. The families wish me to prevent or punishfraud, theft, rape, and murder. But when the families have quarrels thatcan be settled only by bloodshed, they want no interference. Did thecontessa send you here to appeal for my help?"

  "No, she told me you could not stop the Filippeschi," said Simon,appalled at this glimpse of the chaos that lay under the pretty surfaceof this town.

  D'Ucello nodded with a look of satisfaction. "Of course. No doubt shesees this as her chance to kill off Marco di Filippeschi, something shehas longed to do for years. I cannot do what you ask. I know the limitsof my power."

  Power, thought Simon. Brute strength. That was what would decide thisclash, and all he could do was make sure his side was stronger. He felta resolve, at once grim and gleeful, growing inside him.

  He stood up and inclined his head. The stout little man rose and bowedback.

  "Then I cannot rely on you?" Simon said.

  D'Ucello shrugged. "I am still trying to
discover the murderer of yourcompanion. I have learned that neither David of Trebizond nor hisservant, Giancarlo, were in Cardinal Ugolini's palace when your friendwas killed. I think tonight while the Monaldeschi and the Filippeschiare at each other's throats, the best place for me would be atUgolini's, asking those two worthies where they were that night. If Icannot find out, perhaps your informant in that household could help.Why not ask her?"

  _He thinks I was talking about Sophia._

  Simon wished he could go to Sophia. What if he were killed tonight andnever saw her again? He wished there was at least time to send her apoem.

  D'Ucello had probably guessed that Simon was visiting Sophia when Alainwas murdered. Simon felt his face grow hot with chagrin. He had failedto keep his secret--his and Sophia's.

  He remembered Sordello telling him that David and Giancarlo had gone toPerugia. Simon could save d'Ucello from a waste of time by telling himthat.

  _But why bother? He's been no help to me._

  Angry with the podesta and with himself, and unwilling to yield any moreinformation to the little man, Simon took his leave.

  * * * * *

  With two of his knights, the Sires de Borione and de Vilbiz, flankinghim, Simon hurried back from the podesta's palace to the PalazzoMonaldeschi. They looked over their shoulders so often as they strodethrough the darkening street that Simon began to feel they were lookingbackward as much as forward. But no bravos sprang at them from ambush,no arrows flew from housetops. Indeed, the streets were unusually quietand empty for late Saturday afternoon, with the clink of the knights'spurs and the tramp of their heels on the cobbles the loudest sounds ofall.

  Windows were shuttered, doors closed tight. The whole neighborhood,thought Simon, must be aware of what was about to happen.

  They turned a corner into the square before the Monaldeschi palace andheard the sound of hammers. Simon had ordered de Puys to supervise thebuilding of slanting wooden screens above the battlements to be coveredwith wet blankets to protect the roof from fire arrows. The job wasalmost done, and Simon reminded himself to compliment de Puys when hesaw him.

  His first task here at the palace was to insure the safety of theTartars. He had already decided that the safest place in the palace wasthe spice pantry in the cellar.

  And what if the palace were overwhelmed and the Tartars were trapped andkilled in the spice pantry? Simon made up his mind that he himself wouldnot surrender. The Filippeschi would have to kill him to get to theTartars.

  Friar Mathieu answered Simon's knock. Simon had never seen the Tartars'chambers before, and he was shocked. Mattresses covered with blanketslay along the walls. Rugs and cushions were scattered about, but therewas no bed, table, or chair to be seen. An overpowering smell of burntmeat filled the first room Simon entered. In the center of the woodenfloor an area about three feet across was covered with blackenedflagstones, and atop the stones was a heap of charred wood. Beside thiscrude hearth was a pile of broken animal bones, melon rinds, and otherrefuse. An open wine barrel added its sweetish smell to the general odorof smoke and decay.

  Simon wondered whether the contessa had seen this squalor. She had shownthe Tartars special favor, giving them three rooms in the northwestcorner of the third floor. In most palaces a single room was the mosteven a very distinguished visitor could expect. If she thought they weresavages after David of Trebizond had baited them at her reception, whatwould she think after seeing this pigsty?

  John and Philip rose at Simon's entrance and bowed, smiling broadly.They seemed not the least embarrassed by the foul condition of theirchambers. Simon bowed back, trying also to smile.

  "If Cardinal Ugolini were to show these rooms to the Sacred College,many of the cardinals would join him in detesting the Tartars," Simonsaid to Friar Mathieu. "A wonder the smoke has not smothered them."

  With a wry smile Friar Mathieu pointed at the ceiling. An irregular holehad been broken through above the Tartars' hearth.

  "Fortunately for everyone, they are on the top floor of the palace," theFranciscan said. "All they have tried to do is reproduce the kind ofhome they are used to living in, even to the smoke hole in the roof."

  The white-bearded John said something in the Tartar tongue to FriarMathieu.

  "They have heard of the coming fight," the Franciscan said. "They wantweapons and a place on the battlements. They say it is their duty asguests to defend their hostess, the contessa."

  Simon tensed himself for trouble. He had feared this. He chose his wordscarefully.

  "I am sure the contessa will be overwhelmed with gratitude when I tellher of such a gracious offer. But we would not want to have to answer tothe mighty Hulagu Khan if something happened to them or to their noblemission. Tell them that, and that it is _our_ duty to keep _them_ safe.There is a stone storeroom underneath the kitchen, a spice pantry. Ihave explored the palace, and that is the securest place. They must gothere the moment the Filippeschi attack. They should take the Armenianswith them."

  The Tartars looked angry and shouted vigorous staccato protests whenFriar Mathieu translated this. Philip, the younger, black-haired one,especially addressed himself to Simon. Philip seized the oblong goldtablet of office that hung around his neck and shook it at Simon.

  "He reminds you that his title is Baghadur, which means Valiant. He saysyou insult him by asking him to hide in the cellar. Among his peoplenobody hides. Even the women and children fight."

  Simon felt his assurance collapsing. What if the Tartars simply refusedto seek safety? He could not put them in chains.

  Earnestly he said, "Tell them it is their duty to their khan to stayalive and continue negotiations. Be as courteous as you have the powerto be in their language."

  "Oh, I am being very polite. One always is, with them."

  After another exchange Friar Mathieu said, "They say Hulagu Khan wouldexpect them to fight."

  Simon had a sudden inspiration. "Tell them that if they were to fightand if anything happened to them, even the slightest injury, the King ofFrance would cut my head off."

  There was a particle of truth in that, Simon thought as Friar Mathieutranslated. Kindly as King Louis was, decapitation would be preferableto facing his reproach if Simon's weakness caused the Tartars' death.

  John shrugged and answered Friar Mathieu quietly. Simon held his breath,praying that this last effort would work.

  Friar Mathieu said, "John says that you are a brave young warrior, andit would be a shame to have your head cut off when you have a lifetimeof battles ahead of you. For your sake they will forgo the pleasure ofthis fight. But they insist on taking only two guards with them. Theyinsist that the rest of their men fight beside yours."

  Relief washed over Simon. He hoped he would be able to think as quicklyin the coming battle as he had just then.

  "I can use their other men. Have whatever the ambassadors need for theircomfort carried to the spice pantry." He looked again at the pile ofgarbage. "Tell them they will be next to the kitchen. They should likethat."