The Saracen: The Holy War

by Robert Shea

  LVI

  _Now, at last, this is the end_, thought Daoud as the door of thechamber of torment rasped open. He had been preparing himself for death,praying, commending himself to God. Now he hoped that without much morepain, God would take him.

  Erculio, who had been sitting with his back to the wall, pushed himselfto his feet and scuttled forward.

  D'Ucello entered, followed by two guards in yellow and blue.

  "Welcome back, Signore," Erculio cried. "Shall we now roast thisstubborn fellow's ballocks?"

  Erculio, Daoud sensed, enjoyed feigning the gleeful torturer preciselybecause it was a way of tormenting d'Ucello himself.

  D'Ucello walked over to where Daoud lay naked on the rack and gloweredsilently down at him, his lips pressed together under his thin mustache.The podesta glanced at the silver flask on the table, but made no moveto pick it up. He seemed to be studying Daoud, searching for somethingas he looked into his eyes.

  He blinked and turned away. "Untie him."

  "What are we going to do to him now, Signore?" said Erculio, still alleagerness. He needed to know, Daoud thought, when it would be time forthe poison ball.

  "Untie him and sit him up slowly," said d'Ucello.

  "Oh, Signore!" Erculio exclaimed. "May we not play with him some more?"

  D'Ucello's mouth twisted. "Enough of your infernal questions,pervertito! Do as I say."

  The impact of this surprise was like a rock smashing into Daoud's Faceof Steel. What was happening? Was he not to have his manhood burnedaway? Was he not to die?

  This, too, could be a trick. Realizing that the threat of Greek Fire hadnot broken Daoud, d'Ucello might be making one last and very effectiveattempt to destroy his resolve by making it seem his fortunes hadsuddenly reversed themselves.

  Daoud tried to bring the upwelling of hope under control, to resume theFace of Steel. But something in his bones was already sure that he wassaved, and spasms of trembling ran through his body. His face felt as ifit were falling to pieces, the Mask of Clay broken like a useless pot.

  Bustling around the table, Erculio undid the knots at his wrists andankles. In his surprise, Daoud relaxed his defenses against pain, andagony stabbed him like spears in every muscle of his body.

  "We have not the means to treat your wounds here in this chamber," saidd'Ucello. "But lower your legs over the side of the table and sit therefor a moment. Then, if you can stand and walk, we will take you upstairsand my own physician, Fra Bernardino, will attend you."

  _Can it be? Am I to go free?_

  Joy burst up in him like a fountain in the desert. The candlelightseemed to flicker, and he nearly fainted. The sudden rush of emotion wasunbearable.

  Unless this was indeed a ruse, which seemed less and less likely witheach passing moment, his suffering was over. The contessa hadprevailed! But why? Why had she intervened to save him? Daoud rememberedhis vision of Sophia hurrying through the night to Tilia's house. HadSophia done something that brought the contessa into it?

  As he sat on the edge of the table, Daoud brought his eyes up to fixthem on d'Ucello's. The dark eyes of the podesta, with the deep blackrings under them, stared back. There was a look of defiance ind'Ucello's eyes, as if Daoud were the accuser and d'Ucello the one beinginterrogated.

  Daoud's throat was tight and dry, and it ached when he tried to speak,but he forced words out.

  "What are you going to do with me? Are you setting me free?"

  The podesta nodded, his lips tight. "It seems that way."

  "Why?"

  "Be good enough to wait for an explanation until we are in private."

  Daoud tried to read d'Ucello's round, swarthy face, but he could nottell whether the podesta was relieved or angry.

  When Daoud did try to stand and put his weight on the burned and beatensoles of his feet, he had to clench his teeth to keep himself fromscreaming. His legs, which had borne the brunt of Erculio's attentions,felt lifeless, and his knees buckled. He toppled forward, and d'Ucellocaught him. The podesta staggered under Daoud's weight. He snapped hisfingers at a guard, who hurried over to help hold Daoud up.

  As Daoud, gasping, leaned against him, d'Ucello unclasped his cloak andwrapped it around Daoud to cover his nakedness.

  _Such solicitude_, Daoud thought wryly. _I think I have suddenly becometerribly valuable to him._

  This could not be just the contessa's influence, he thought. He did notmean that much to her.

  _The Sienese._

  That must be it. Erculio had said d'Ucello believed Daoud was aGhibellino agent, and therefore he would want to kill Daoud before theGhibellino army from Siena got here. But not, Daoud thought, if d'Ucellointended to surrender.

  Erculio pressed something into his hand, a small leather pouch--thetawidh.

  Daoud painfully bent his head toward Erculio and read gladness in thebeady eyes.

  "May you find work that suits you better, Messer Erculio," said Daoud._God give you joy_, he thought.

  "What he does suits him all too well, the little monster," saidd'Ucello.

  The podesta's men brought a litter, and two big guards, complainingabout Daoud's size, slowly climbed the basement steps, stopped to restfor a time at the top and then carried Daoud up the marble staircaseleading from the ground floor to the first floor of the Palazzo delPodesta. They were staggering by the time they lifted Daoud onto a bedin a small room. D'Ucello ordered the guards to send Fra Bernardino tohim.

  Two walls of the room were lined with books and boxes of scrolls. Somany books must be worth a fortune, Daoud thought. The other walls werepainted a pleasant lemon color, the ceiling a deep blue. A concavemirror, set at an angle in the wall beside the glazed mullioned window,could direct daylight toward the writing table. The translucent windowglass appeared nearly black; it must be night outside. The floor was ofhardwood planks, very clean and highly polished. Moving very slowly andpainfully, Daoud stretched himself out on the yellow satin bedcarpet anddrew d'Ucello's cloak over him like a blanket.

  This was a great deal more comfortable than the table on which he hadlain for what seemed like endless days and nights. He could hardlybelieve the vast change that had taken place.

  _Maybe I have gone mad and this is all like a hashish dream._

  D'Ucello sat at a plain oak table piled with parchments, rolled andunrolled. The candelabra on the table supplied the light for the room. Aslender blue vase with graceful twin handles stood on one corner of thetable.

  Though this was not a room that would find favor in the world of Islam,Daoud recognized that d'Ucello, in his own Venetian way, had a highlyrefined sense of beauty.

  The podesta unlocked a tall box of dark wood, inlaid with ivory, thatstood on his desk. Lifting the lid, he held the flask of Greek Fire overit.

  "We are both lucky I did not use this," he said. He took a folded whitecloth from the box and wrapped the flask. Then, carefully, he set theflask upright in the box, closed the lid, and locked it.

  Daoud let out a slow sigh of relief as he saw d'Ucello push the box toone side. It was becoming easier and easier to believe that he wassaved.

  In spite of the pain that stabbed at a thousand places on his body,Daoud was able to smile. "I know why it is lucky for me. Why for you?"

  "Cardinal Ugolini and his niece went to the Contessa di Monaldeschi andinsisted that you were innocent, that you were the cardinal's guest.They begged her to command me to release you at once. The contessa isvery simple in her way, and she likes to do favors for churchmen. So shesent a message to me that I must stop your torture and come to her atonce."

  Daoud could not think. He felt so light-headed that it might have beeneasy now for d'Ucello to extract admissions from him. He had been inpain and had not eaten or slept in over a day. He must pay carefulattention to what he was saying. It would never do to be careless withd'Ucello.

  D'Ucello smiled at Daoud, a humorless grimace that stretched his thinmustache.

  "I am not going to ask your forgiveness," d'Ucello said. "I wa
s doingwhat I thought right."

  Daoud said nothing. He felt d'Ucello was being frank with him, but hecould not find it in his heart to forgive a man who had caused him somuch pain and nearly killed him. Still, searching his heart, as SheikhSaadi would have recommended, he found that he felt no hatred ford'Ucello. Just the wariness he would have felt toward a very largecrocodile.

  "I have stopped torturing you not because the contessa told me to,"d'Ucello went on. "I probably could have changed her mind. But then sheand I spoke of something else. A Ghibellino army from Siena is about toassault Orvieto. The contessa insisted that the militia, which Icommand, defend Orvieto to the last drop of our blood." He smiled, againwithout mirth.

  _As I suspected_, Daoud thought triumphantly. _He wants me to intercedefor him with the Ghibellini of Siena._

  And another happy thought came to him: _At last Lorenzo returns._

  "How many men have the Sienese?" Daoud asked.

  "According to reports I have from the peasants who live north of here,they number over four thousand men. I am amazed that even so prosperousa city as Siena could hire such a large army."

  _You would be even more amazed to know where they got the money_,thought Daoud.

  D'Ucello went on. "So, we are hopelessly outnumbered. Of course, thisrock of Orvieto is the most defensible position in Italy. Even with onlyour few hundred we could hold the Sienese off for some weeks, perhapseven months. But not indefinitely. The Holy Father knew that, which iswhy he left. The city will be taken and sacked. The people will suffergreatly. If I am not killed in the fighting, I will surely be hanged.And after I and all the defenders are dead, the contessa will considerthe honor of the city satisfied and will make peace with the Sienese."

  "Well, you will have done what you thought right," said Daoud, after thepodesta had finished listing all these evil consequences. D'Ucello'seyebrows twitched and his lips quirked, showing that he caught theirony.

  Daoud would enjoy this conversation more, he thought, if his feet didnot throb, if his legs did not ache, if his torn back did not burn as ifhe were lying on hot coals, if his head were not swimming.

  "I may hold this post at the contessa's pleasure, but she does not havethe right to tell me to die needlessly. And, as podesta, my firstconcern is the welfare of Orvieto. If I can come to terms with theGhibellini, the city will be spared destruction."

  Daoud held up a hand. The pain of the gesture was excruciating.

  "Are you not a loyal Guelfo? Are you not faithful to the papal cause?How can you speak of coming to terms with the Ghibellini?" What apleasure it was to goad d'Ucello.

  The podesta squinted at Daoud, as if to see how serious his questionwas.

  "This is a Guelfo city, and normally I would take that side. But I haveno personal feelings one way or the other. What I do care about is theresponsibility I have accepted, of governing this city. I carry out thatresponsibility best by preserving it from ruin."

  _And at the same time saving your own life_, thought Daoud. _And bitingyour thumb at the Contessa di Monaldeschi who has been treating you likea servant. Oh, there are many reasons why you want to surrender to theSienese._

  But Daoud was in terrible pain, and so tired that fatigue itself was nowas much a torment as anything he had suffered earlier. He longed to cutthis conversation short.

  "What has all this to do with me?"

  "To display my good faith to the Ghibellini, I have decided to freeyou."

  "Why should the Ghibellini care, one way or the other, what happens tome?" said Daoud. Slowly he rolled over on his side, to make it easier tolook at d'Ucello. Pain flared in his arms and legs, in his back andchest. His hands barely had the strength to pull the blue cloak withhim.

  "You still deny that you are of that party?" d'Ucello asked.

  "I am David of Trebizond."

  D'Ucello rose to answer a knock at the door. Daoud lifted himself on oneelbow to see who it was. In the shadowed corridor a white-robed friar,taller than d'Ucello, was peering in, trying to see Daoud.

  "We are not quite ready for you, Fra Bernardino," said d'Ucello,half-closing the door.

  "Wait, Signore," the Dominican said, putting out a pale hand. "CardinalUgolini has come here with men-at-arms and is demanding that you releasethis man David to him at once."

  Ugolini, here? Daoud felt a lightness in his heart. Freedom was thatmuch closer.

  "Make sure the cardinal is comfortable and is offered refreshments, FraBernardino," said d'Ucello, "and tell him he will not have to waitlong."

  _Better and better._

  When the door was shut, d'Ucello walked over to the bed and stared intoDaoud's eyes. "If I let you go, will you speak on my behalf to theGhibellini?"

  Daoud smiled. "In my capacity as a trader?"

  D'Ucello clenched his fists. "Damn you! You are too stubborn."

  "So"--Daoud kept the smile fixed on his face--"you have arrested andtortured me for a night and a day. You very nearly did to me somethingso horrible, even now it hurts me to think about it. And you would havedone it, too, if the contessa's summons had not delayed you. Now,because you have stopped doing these things to me, you expect me to beoverflowing with gratitude and glad to help you make peace with theGhibellini."

  D'Ucello smiled back. "For my sparing you from torture, from mutilation,from death, you should be grateful, yes."

  _If he were another kind of man, he would have destroyed me with GreekFire and let this city be ruined while he fought the Sienese. In spiteof what he did to me, this is a wise man, and he deserves to live and torule here._

  But Daoud could not resist another thrust. "What I should do, if, as youthink, I have influence with the Sienese, is have them do to you whatyou have done to me. And not spare you at the end." He felt himselfgetting angry as he thought of all he had been through, even though heknew anger was foolish. "I know where you keep your flask of GreekFire."

  D'Ucello's black eyes held Daoud's. "Yes. You could do that. But I thinkI have come to know something about you during these hours you havesuffered at my hands."

  "Yes?"

  "I do not know what you are, but I know that you are much more than youseem to be. And you are not the sort who takes revenge on a man fordoing his duty."

  Daoud did not care to haggle anymore. "Allow any messenger of minefreedom to come and go through the city gates."

  "Agreed."

  The podesta was right, he thought. He would not seek revenge afterd'Ucello surrendered to the Sienese any more than he would kill aprisoner of war. Men like Qutuz did that sort of thing, to satisfy theirvanity. Men like Baibars did not. He thanked God for making him morelike Baibars.

  And he thanked God for bringing him alive and whole out of the valley ofdeath.

  * * * * *

  Her first sight of Daoud was a cruel blow to Sophia's heart. His blondhair, dark with dirt and sweat, spread in lank locks on the pillow. Hisbloodshot eyes looked at her out of blackened lids. His lips werecracked. His face looked hollow, as if he had grown thinner just in theday d'Ucello had held him.

  She ran to him across the tiled floor of Ugolini's reception hall.

  He was alive, but how badly hurt was he? She prayed that when she liftedthe blanket that covered him she would see that his body was sound.

  He raised his hands to her as she bent over the litter. She saw that thefingernails were blackened and bloody, and her own fists clenched as shefelt what they must have done to his hands. She slid her arms around hisshoulders and pressed her face against his. Perhaps the men-at-arms andservants should not see the cardinal's niece embracing the trader fromTrebizond, but at that moment nothing mattered to her but to hold hisliving body in her arms.

  She heard him gasp. She was hurting him. What a fool she was!

  "Forgive my clumsiness, David. I am so sorry."

  He gently squeezed her hand as she drew away from him. "Your arms feellike an angel's wings."

  Ugolini called his steward, Agostino, and r
attled off a list ofnecessaries for treating Daoud's wounds--water, a pot and a brazier,clean cloths, medicine jars from the cardinal's cabinet.

  Sophia walked beside the litter as Ugolini's men carried Daoud to hisroom on the third floor. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder. Herfeelings alternated between agony, as she imagined what he had gonethrough, and singing elation that he was back with her. With joy shefelt movement and life in the hard muscle under her fingertips.

  "Tilia and I did what we could for you," she said when the men haddeposited him on his bed.

  "I know," said Daoud. "Ugolini told me about your visit to the contessa.Had she not sent for d'Ucello when she did--as you persuaded her todo--I would be dead now."

  She sat on the edge of his bed and put her hands over her face and weptfor joy. It had all meant something, her rushing to Tilia before dawn,her going with Ugolini to the contessa, her falling to her knees beforethe old woman.

  As the men-at-arms left, Ugolini came in with Agostino and two servantsbearing a brazier and a tripod, pots of water, cloths, and jars ofointments and powders from Ugolini's shelves. Two other servants broughta table into Daoud's room, and Ugolini had the medications arranged onit.

  "He also let me go because the Ghibellini from Siena are about tobesiege the city," said Daoud. "He wants my help in surrendering tothem."

  "A pity the Sienese could not have gotten here in time to catch theTartars and de Verceuil," said Sophia when the servants had left.

  Ugolini looked up from the powders he was mixing for poultices andfrowned. "Catch them? Why?"

  Sophia stared at Ugolini. Then the news had somehow missed him. She feltsorry for him. Even though Tilia was very much alive, this was going tobe a terrible shock.

  Daoud said, "In the dungeon I heard something had happened at Tilia'shouse."

  Ugolini's eyes grew huge. "Tilia! My God, what was it?"

  "Tilia is well, Cardinal," Sophia said quickly. "Luckily for her, shewas here when it happened." She wondered how much Daoud knew about whathad happened, and how he felt about it. Her heart still ached for poorRachel. Where was the child now, right at this moment? Somewhere on theroad to Perugia. Being abused, perhaps, by that beast of a Tartar.

  "When _what_ happened?" Ugolini cried. "In the name of Christ and theVirgin, speak out!"

  Sophia told the cardinal and Daoud how she and Tilia had gone to Tilia'shouse, and of the death and destruction they had found there. It hurther to see the anguish in their eyes. Especially Daoud's. He _must_ feela terrible guilt about having sent Rachel there in the first place. Nowhe had to suffer that, along with pain d'Ucello had inflicted on him.

  "The Tartars and de Verceuil!" Ugolini shouted, shaking clenched fists."May God send a flood to drown them on the road to Orvieto! May all thedevils in hell roast them!" He paced the floor furiously, his red robesrustling. "I must go to Tilia at once," he cried.

  "No," said Daoud. "Too many people would see you."

  "But she has no one to protect her."

  "She has hired guards," said Sophia. "And those who ruined her house aregone."

  Daoud's head fell back against the pillow, and his eyelids closed. Hisface looked masklike to Sophia, almost as if he were dead. She realized,with sudden anxiety, that he might be suffering terribly, withoutcomplaint. That would be like him. And she and Ugolini stood heretalking. She must see to Daoud's hurts at once. He might have injurieswithin, injuries from which he could not recover.

  "Send some of your trusted men-at-arms to protect Tilia," said Daoudwithout opening his eyes, his voice faint. "Riccardo and some others. Donot go yourself."

  "Of course," said Ugolini, looking abashed. "Even though you have beentortured, your head is sounder than mine. But, you understand, _I_ amtortured by the thought of what has happened to Tilia."

  "I, too," said Daoud. "And to her people. And to Rachel."

  "Tomorrow you can tell me what happened to you," said Ugolini at thedoor. "I will let you rest now." He drew a breath, hesitated, bit hislip. Sophia wished he would go.

  Daoud raised his head and opened his eyes. "You want to ask something.What is it?"

  "Did you--did d'Ucello--learn anything?"

  "God willed that he learn nothing from me," said Daoud, sinking backagain.

  "_Your_ will had something to do with that," said Sophia.

  _He held out against them. What a magnificent man._

  But what price had he paid for his strength?

  "God's will is my will," Daoud whispered.

  "God be with you, then," said Ugolini, and left, pulling the door shutbehind him.

  Daoud's eyes opened. The sight of his eyes woke a warmth in her breastas if a small sun had risen inside her.

  "Do you want to sleep?" she asked him.

  "Yes, with you beside me."

  Joy blazed up inside her at those words. She had been so afraid thattorture would somehow destroy his caring for her.

  "Oh, yes," she said. "Nothing would make me happier."

  "But first I need you to wash and dress my wounds."

  Daoud gritted his teeth and winced as first she lifted off the purplecloak that covered him, then inch by inch drew the yellow tunic up fromhis body and over his head. He groaned aloud when, with her propping uphis heavy body, he raised his arms.

  "O Kriste!" she whispered. She wept anew as her eyes traveled over thegolden body she loved and saw huge, broken blisters and patches of redskin; swollen black bruises the size of hen's eggs; long, deeplacerations filled with crusted blood; the many little black scabs ofpuncture wounds.

  "When Lorenzo and the Ghibellini get here, we will have d'Ucello and historturers torn to pieces," she raged. She went to the table, folded alinen cloth, and dipped it in the water.

  "I do not hate d'Ucello," said Daoud as she began, very carefully, toclean his wounds. "He has his work and I have mine. As for historturer--Erculio is his name--d'Ucello does not know it, but historturer is one of us."

  Sophia's hand, moving the cloth lightly over a long, shallow cut thatran across the smooth, almost hairless skin of his chest, paused. Was hedelirious?

  "One of _us_? The torturer?"

  Daoud looked amused. "I do not know where Erculio comes from, but he isa good servant of the God of Islam and of the sultan, who placed himthere for my protection."

  "For your protection? You mean he would have killed you."

  Her body turned to ice as she faced the reality of how close she hadcome to losing him.

  "Yes," said Daoud. "I thought I would never see you again." He reachedout his arms, grimacing with pain. She put down the cloth and let himhold her. Her heart swelled up in her throat and tears burned her eyes.

  And suddenly, as if a curtain were lifted, she saw that life with thisman would always be this way. Whenever she was with him, there wouldalways be a yesterday in which some miracle of good fortune kept himalive. There would always be a tomorrow in which he must face death yetagain.

  Her head rested on his chest for a moment; then she wiped her face andwent back to cleaning and covering his wounds. Never mind her pain.Whatever he was feeling must be much worse.

  He told her how to make poultices for his burns using wet cloths andpowdered medicinal herbs Ugolini had prepared. It was like what she haddone for his arrow wound, only now there were many more hurts to treat.Silently, in Greek, she cursed d'Ucello and cursed the torturer. She didnot care whether Daoud forgave them. She would never forgive what theyhad done to her man.

  When he was in the cellar of the Palazzo del Podesta being tortured, hadhe grieved at the thought of losing her, as she had sorrowed for him?

  She worked her way down his body from head to foot, tying the poulticesin place with strips of cloth. Thank God, they had done nothing to hismanly part. That was often the first place a torturer went for. Whenwould they make love again, she wondered. That depended on how long ittook him to recover. Perhaps weeks, perhaps even months.

  When she was finished with his front, he turned over w
ith her help.Again she could not hold back her tears. Pain, not bodily, but real justthe same, struck her at the sight of his tormented flesh. For a momenther eyes were covered with darkness. The skin of his back and buttockshad been whipped away in large red slashes. She shook her headviolently, spoke a few more curses in her mind, and went to work. Daoud,who had endured most of her healing efforts in silence, cried out whenshe put a wet cloth on a torn spot.

  "What more can you tell me about Rachel?" he asked. She suspected hewanted to take his mind off the pain.

  She repeated everything Tilia's women had reported, ending that lookingout the windows they had seen Rachel riding off in a cart with the oldFranciscan who interpreted for the Tartars.

  "I am glad to hear that old priest still lives," said Daoud, sighing."Ah, Sophia, Rachel is a slave to that Tartar only because she had theill luck to cross my path. I have brought destruction to many, manypeople."

  Slowly, painfully, he turned on his back again, with Sophia helping.Lovingly she stroked the few patches of his skin that were not torn orburned or bruised.

  When he was settled, he looked up at her and smiled in what she thoughtwas a strange way. She did not see the cause of his smile at first,until he looked down at himself, and she followed his eyes. She saw thathis key of life had begun to raise itself.

  "Daoud! After all you have been through?"

  "I want you, Sophia, _because_ of what I have been through. Because ofwhat I nearly lost. I will tell you more tomorrow about what, God bethanked, did not happen. For now"--he reached out a hand to her--"cometo me."

  She understood. He must feel like a man who had come back from the dead.Life was more precious to him than ever--and love. Tired and pain-rackedthough he was, he wanted this moment of being with her again, which mustseem to him like a gift from God. And, indeed, perhaps that was exactlywhat it was.

  He lay back on the bed, his tortured body naked except for the clothwrappings tied over the worst of his wounds. His beautiful circumcisedphallos pulsed as it grew larger. She wanted to be naked with him, andshe threw off her outer tunic, unbelted her red silk gown, and pulled itover her head. Her shift followed. Then she stepped out of the purplefelt slippers and stood before him, her arms held away from her body, tolet him see her.

  She felt the warmth of her own desire for him spread through her.

  He said, "You are a spring that gushes out of barren rock. I thirst foryou."

  Carefully she climbed on the bed, straddling him. Slowly, so as not tohurt him, she lowered herself over him, guiding him into her with gentlefingers. A long sigh escaped him. She moved for both of them.

  The instant after he groaned and reached his peak of love and pleasure,he fell asleep, still lying on his back. He had just enough strength tocouple with me, she thought.

  She rose from him and blew out the candles on the bedside table. Thenight was cool, and she closed the casement windows of his room.

  There was space between Daoud and the wall for her to lie beside him.She stretched out there and stayed awake only long enough to kiss hisbare shoulder.

  * * * * *

  Forcing himself to wake up seemed as much torture for Daoud as anythingErculio had done to him. He could only lie there and struggle againstthe agony he felt in every part of his body. His head ached. His tonguefelt like a lump of dried camel dung. His throbbing muscles and bonesbegged him to sink back into unconsciousness. How long had he slept?Only an hour or two, he was sure.

  The yellow glow of a lighted candle filled the room. Lorenzo wasstanding near the bed holding the candle, glowering at Daoud from underthick, dark brows as if he were angry at him.

  _Lorenzo._

  Daoud wanted to laugh and leap out of bed and throw his arms aroundLorenzo. He managed only to sit up, too quickly. Fires shot from hisjoints into his neck to coalesce in a burst of agony in the back of hishead. He did not want to cry out in front of Lorenzo, but a groan forceditself through his cracked lips.

  Sophia, wearing her red silk gown and standing by the bed--_How did sheget out of bed and dressed before Lorenzo got in here?_--took Daoud'sshoulders gently and lowered him back to the bed.

  Lorenzo set the candle on the table beside Daoud and sat beside him.

  "What the devil did those bastards do to you?"

  Daoud saw the rage in the penetrating dark eyes, and it delighted him,because Lorenzo was furious for his sake.

  "Nothing that I will not recover from. More quickly, now that I see yourinfidel face. Have you come here to parley with the podesta?"

  "Yes, Duke Rinaldo has sent his son, Lapo, and me to meet with d'Ucellohere at Ugolini's."

  Lorenzo had accomplished everything Daoud asked of him, and more. Histimely arrival had saved Daoud's life. To think that Daoud had oncewanted to be rid of him. Except for Sophia, he had never in his lifefelt so happy to see anyone as this grizzled Sicilian.

  Sophia said, "I have tended your wounds enough for tonight, David. Ileave you in Lorenzo's care." She smiled at Lorenzo and put her handbriefly on his shoulder.

  As she went to the door, Lorenzo scooped something from the floor,jumped up, and handed it to her. "I believe this is yours, Madonna." Heheld out her red leather belt.

  Sophia swept it from his hand. "Thank you, Messere," she said coolly.

  "Good night, Sophia," said Daoud with a smile. "You have brought megreat comfort tonight."

  "Good night, David," she said, and shot him a burning look that he hopedLorenzo did not see.

  After the door closed behind her, Lorenzo chuckled softly as he sat downagain. "Tending your wounds with her gown off, was she? And no light inthe room till I brought this candle in? You and she are not as discreetas you were before I left."

  _We could never fool Lorenzo_, thought Daoud ruefully.

  "The pope is gone, the Tartars are gone, the French are gone," saidDaoud. "There is no one left in Orvieto that we need deceive. Find somesoft cloths on the table to bind my feet." Creating the barrier betweenhis mind and the pain, Daoud swung his legs over the edge of the bed.Lorenzo stared at him, his mouth falling open.

  "What in the name of hell are you doing? You cannot get up! What woundsare under those bandages?"

  "I do not mind the pain," said Daoud. "I want to meet this duke's son.Where is your army camped?"

  Lorenzo's grin stretched his thick black mustache. "In the valley tothe north. You should see it. After I climbed up to the main gate ofOrvieto I looked down and saw the hundreds of campfires twinkling. Itwas as if the world had turned over, and I was looking down into thestarry sky."

  Daoud wished he could go to the city walls to see what Lorenzo haddescribed. But he had barely strength enough to walk from his room toUgolini's cabinet.

  * * * * *

  Four men--Daoud, Lorenzo, Ugolini, and Lapo di Stefano--sat aroundUgolini's worktable discussing the fate of Orvieto. The servants hadmoved the table to the center of the cabinet and had replaced thecardinal's usual clutter of philosophical instruments with platters ofmeat, loaves of bread baked fresh in the cardinal's kitchen, and traysof steaming pastries. Daoud had no appetite and was in too much pain toeat.

  "When does your King Manfred intend to come up from the south?" Lapoasked Daoud. He twisted the carcass of a roasted pigeon between thick,juice-stained fingers. His nose had been broken in some accident orfight; air whistled in and out of the flattened nostrils. Daoud judgedhim to be about twenty, the same age as Simon de Gobignon.

  As far as Lapo knew, Daoud was an agent of the king of southern Italyand Sicily. It might have shocked him to discover that he was dealingwith a Muslim from Egypt.

  Daoud had to evade Lapo's question. He had no idea what plans Manfredhad, if any. He could only hope that when he met with Manfred at Lucerahe would be able to persuade him to invade the Papal States.

  "King Manfred would come from the south much more quickly," Daoud said,"if he could count on being recognized by the cities of the north ask
ing of a united Italy."

  "That must be between my father and him," said Lapo, and his breathwheezed through his nostrils as he bit into the pigeon's breast. "Afterall, no such title exists. There has never been a king of Italy."

  And yet there easily could be, thought Daoud, seeing the shape of thepeninsula in his mind. And if that single ruler were a man like Manfred,what a strong barrier Italy could be between the Abode of Islam and thebarbaric kingdoms of Christian Europe.

  But in fact, thought Daoud, for all that Lapo di Stefano wore theGhibellino symbol, the black, two-headed Hohenstaufen eagle, on thebreast of his red silk surcoat, he and his father might still preferthat Manfred stay where he was. As long as Manfred remained cut offfrom the northern cities like Siena by the band of the Papal Statesrunning across the center of Italy, the Ghibellini of the north could doas they pleased.

  "When the French invade," said Daoud, "a united Italy can keep them out.If the cities of the north are divided, the French will take them overone by one."

  "How do you know the French will invade?" Lapo asked. "We have heardthat King Louis has no desire to wage war in Italy."

  Daoud was beginning to feel a strong dislike for this coarse youngnobleman who seemed both very sure of himself and very ignorant. He wasabout to reply when a man-at-arms entered and whispered to Ugolini.

  "D'Ucello is here," Ugolini said.

  "Have him wait below until we send for him," said Daoud quickly. Heturned back to Lapo.

  "I do not wish d'Ucello harmed."

  Lapo stared coldly at Daoud. "Who are you to give orders?"

  Lorenzo answered before Daoud could speak. "Let me remind you, Signore,that it was David of Trebizond whose gold made possible your capture ofOrvieto."

  There was too much conflict building up here, Daoud thought. "No,Lorenzo. Siena had the will, the fighting spirit. That was what madethis victory possible. I contributed only money."

  He turned to Lapo. "I do not give orders, I make recommendations basedon my knowledge of this town. I recommend that d'Ucello continue aspodesta. If you leave enough men under his command, he will keep thefeuding families under control. Orvieto will prosper and pay you tributethat will make this expedition worth your while."

  "The army of Siena has marched against Orvieto because Orvieto is aGuelfo stronghold," said Lapo. "We intend to replace the governments ofall the cities near Siena with rulers favorable to us."

  Daoud thought he understood Lapo, gauging him as a man who had littleexperience of war but who enjoyed bloodletting. He was probablydisappointed that the city might surrender without a battle, without anexcuse for looting and massacre. He might be hoping, as a substitute, tofind someone who could be put to death publicly in some hideous way todemonstrate his power over the city.

  "Of course you have come here to impose your will on Orvieto," he saidquietly. "But be grateful that you do not have to fight your way up themountain. If d'Ucello were to choose to resist, your army would bemonths taking Orvieto. Let us be glad the podesta was sensible andsurrendered. Orvieto is a beautiful city. Its people will be eager toshow their gratitude to a conqueror gracious to them. The ease withwhich you win their hearts will in turn impress your own Sienese peoplewith your statesmanship. Of course, Orvieto was richer when the pope andmost of the cardinals were here. A pity you could not have marched yourarmy here sooner."

  _It would have been easier on me too._

  Lapo's thick eyebrows went up. "I heard that you were tortured by thispodesta. And I can see you have been badly hurt. You want no revenge?"

  Daoud fixed Lapo with a hard look and slowly shook his head. "Revengedoes not interest me."

  "Just what does interest you, Messer Trader?" The heir of Siena gloweredat Daoud from under his heavy eyebrows. "I do not trust a man who doesnot care about revenge."

  Revenge? Was not his presence at the heart of Christendom a kind ofrevenge for nearly two hundred years of Christian invasions of Muslimlands? Did it not make revenge all the sweeter that God's choseninstrument was a descendant of those very crusaders who had been sentagainst Islam? This dense young nobleman could not conceive of thefantastic forms revenge could take.

  "I act in the interests of King Manfred," Daoud said. "It is in hisinterest that Orvieto be part of the chain of Ghibellino cities in thenorth that limit the power of the pope. It is not in his interest--oryours--that Siena waste lives and money capturing Orvieto. The town canbe taken without a struggle if you come to terms with d'Ucello. And Irecommend that you leave him in place as podesta of Orvieto."

  Lapo shook his head. "How can I trust a man who would betray his owncity?"

  Daoud felt his small remaining store of strength ebbing fast. He mustfinish this quickly.

  "You will leave your own force here to keep him in line, of course. Youwill take prominent Orvietans back to Siena with you as hostages. Butyou should understand that d'Ucello is not betraying his city. He iswilling to surrender because he knows that is best for Orvieto. Give hima free hand and strengthen his militia, and he will govern the town wellfor you."

  Lorenzo said dryly, "This paragon of podestas waits in CardinalUgolini's reception hall to offer you the keys to the city of Orvieto.Shall we invite him to join us, Your Signory?"

  Lapo di Stefano shrugged and waved a greasy hand. "Send for the fellow.I will make my decision after I have seen him." He picked up anotherroasted pigeon and sank his teeth into it.

  And life or death for hundreds of people depended on how this apehappened to choose in the next few moments, Daoud thought, as Lorenzowent to the door and called a servant. Why did God put such men inpositions of power?

  Soon there was a knock at the door, and Lorenzo went to it and admittedd'Ucello. The podesta's face was hidden by the dark brown hood of hiscloak.

  _For all this man knows, I plan to have him killed_, Daoud thought,admiring d'Ucello's courage in coming here.

  "You come recommended to us as a man who can keep order in this city,"said Lapo as d'Ucello took a seat.

  "And we can think of no higher recommendation, since it comes from a manyou have just been torturing," said Lorenzo.

  "This man has the strength of the old Romans," said d'Ucello, noddingtoward Daoud. "He knows when to put a personal grievance aside for thegreater good."

  Lapo said, "If we were willing to let you remain as podesta of thiscity, in return for your oath of allegiance to the Duke of Siena, howmany men would you need to keep the city under control?"

  "With two hundred men I could match the Monaldeschi forces," saidd'Ucello. "The Filippeschi have been crushed, and so badly that they maygo over to the Ghibellino party." His dark eyes lit up. He was relishingthe prospect of giving orders, Daoud thought, to the old houses that hadtreated him like a servant.

  _Can it be that my legacy to Orvieto may be an improved government? Icertainly did not come here for that purpose._

  But Daoud felt himself weakening. His overtaxed body would soon betrayhim into sleep if he did not go to bed of his own accord.

  "If you have no further need of me--" he said. Lorenzo helped him stand,and leaning on him, he limped to the door.

  "I owe you more than I can say," d'Ucello called after him.

  "Pray to God that I do not decide to repay my debt to _you_," Daoudanswered. He did not look back, but he could imagine d'Ucello's small,grim smile.