The Saracen: Land of the Infidel, Robert Shea [book recommendations for young adults txt] 📗

courtois?" he demanded. "I should know about it. Why have you not told me?"

Ugolini lifted his shoulders in a gesture that reminded Sophia of a shopkeeper on the Mese.

"My dear fellow, we cannot guess where the gaps are in your knowledge of the Christian world. That is why it is so dangerous for you to go about in public."

David held out his hands in appeal.

"You have seen me testify before the pope himself. How can you still be afraid?" He curled his fingers in toward himself, inviting Ugolini to go on. "Tell me about courtly love."

How graceful his gestures are.

"It was begun many years ago by a number of noble ladies of France, and especially Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, who led an absolutely scandalous life," Ugolini said. "She married the King of France, accompanied him on crusade. Costumed as an Amazon,[184] rode bare-breasted in Jerusalem. Jerusalem! Divorced the King of France, married the King of England. Had lovers uncounted besides."

If I had been born into the nobility, I might have been a woman like that, Sophia thought wistfully.

David shook his head as if buzzing flies circled it. "But what has this to do with Simon de Gobignon?"

"As His Excellency said, this Simon comes out of a world shaped by courtly love," Sophia answered. "There are many strict rules about how men and ladies should behave toward one another. One of the most important is that the woman rules the man."

David smiled thinly. She had rarely seen a full open smile on his face, but she remembered what a glorious sight it had been and wished he would smile that way now.

"So, by scorning the way he spoke Italian, you believe you are making yourself more attractive to him?"

"Far better than I would by letting him put his foot on my neck, the way your harem women do."

"You know nothing about our women." But his eyes were crinkled with laughter. "Less than I do about your courtly lovers. And what do you think of my Italian?"

"Better than his," she said, and was rewarded with a broader smile.

She felt a warmth inside as if her heart were melting. Trained from childhood to hide her feelings, she turned her gaze toward the wall paintings of the nude Adam and Eve.

A loud knock shook the outer door of the solar. At Ugolini's summons the door swung inward. Sophia briefly saw the tops of the sun-dappled palm and lemon trees in the inner court, beyond the arches and columns of the galleria. Then the door closed again behind Lorenzo, Scipio at his side. He carried a small parchment scroll in his hand.

"I met the Count de Gobignon at the entry way just now," he said. "Three days ago I was bringing men back from Castel Viscardo, and I encountered him, not knowing then who he was, on the road."

David muttered something in the Saracen tongue. It could have been a curse or a prayer. But before he could speak, Ugolini's fist struck the desk.

"He saw you bringing bravos to Orvieto?" he cried at Lorenzo. "You will get us all killed. I see it now. De Gobignon did not come[185] here to persuade me to change my mind about the Tartars. He came here to spy on us." His voice was shrill with fear.

Scipio growled at the cardinal, and Lorenzo slapped him sharply on the head, then on the rump. The dog fell silent at once and trotted off to the corner of the room farthest from Lorenzo. Ugolini and David both eyed the animal with distaste.

"Perhaps the count should be killed, then," said David, "before he can use against us what he has learned."

Oh, no, please don't kill him!

Sophia felt an urge to cry out, to do something to protect Simon. And with that protective feeling she saw him again—the glossy, dark brown hair that hung in waves almost to his shoulders—the startling blue eyes in an angular, intelligent face. The tall, slender body.

And that name—Simon. Was there an omen of some sort in that? Did not this Simon even look somewhat like her painting of Saint Simon Stylites, carried with her all the way from Constantinople? As the saint might have looked when he was a young man?

As Sophia Orfali meeting the Count de Gobignon, she had felt almost half in love with Simon.

"How can you talk of killing him?" Ugolini cried, his voice almost cracking. "The French cardinals and their men-at-arms would tear the city apart. It might be enough to bring Charles d'Anjou or King Louis himself down here with an army. Sooner or later they would trace it back to us. And then, if you want to know your fate"—his finger moved in turn from David to Lorenzo to Sophia—"go see what they do in the Piazza del Cattedrale to that poor wretch this count captured."

Sophia felt a sickening, falling sensation in her stomach at this reminder of the danger she was in. Usually she managed to keep calm by refusing to think about what would happen if she were caught. She cursed Ugolini for taking her defenses by surprise.

Lorenzo whirled suddenly on Ugolini. "Get hold of yourself, Cardinal. How can a man think, with you shrieking away like a crazy old nonna?"

Good for you, Lorenzo, she thought.

"I am a prince of the Roman Catholic Church," Ugolini shouted. "You will show respect!"

Unabashed, Lorenzo turned to David. "Despite his hysterics, I do think the cardinal is right. If de Gobignon were murdered, the city would be in an uproar. We could not go on with our work."[186]

"Dear God, why did You send these people into my life?" Ugolini groaned.

Lorenzo offered the scroll in his hand to David. "This prince of the Church has been making such a commotion, I nearly forgot this. A man with a clerical tonsure brought it to the door just after the young count left."

David's dagger seemed to leap into his hand. The man could move so fast, Sophia thought. He cut the black ribbon tying the scroll and slipped the dagger back into its scabbard. He unrolled the parchment and studied it with a frown.

"This is in Latin," he said, handing the scroll to Ugolini.

Red-faced and breathing heavily, Ugolini took the scroll and read it, moving his finger along the lines. He shut his eyes as if in pain.

Whatever this message was, thought Sophia, it was upsetting him still more.

Ugolini looked up with fear-haunted eyes. "It is from Fra Tomasso d'Aquino. He invites you to visit him at the convent of the Dominicans. He says he wants to hear more about your travels."

David nodded. "Excellent. I have been wanting to find a way to meet privately with him."

Ugolini threw the paper to the floor and shook both fists. "Mother of God! Do you not understand that this is a trap? The Dominicans are in charge of the Inquisition. They are called the domini canes, the hounds of the Lord. They can smell heresy."

David laughed. "They will not smell it on me. I am a good Muslim."

Though Sophia felt inclined to share Ugolini's fear, she delighted in David's humorous courage. She could not take her eyes from his golden head as he stood in the middle of the room with the light from the window shining on him.

"That, d'Aquino will find even easier to detect than heresy," said Ugolini.

A small, amused smile played about David's lips. "Do you not think I have prepared myself for such a conversation? We need a respected man who can write letters and give sermons warning Christendom against the Tartars. If Fra Tomasso can be convinced the Tartars are dangerous, and if I can offer him something he wants badly enough, he might be the man."

"He and his fellow Dominicans will eat you alive," Ugolini moaned.[187]

"I can accomplish nothing hiding here in your palace." David gazed down at the cardinal, unruffled.

Sophia sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, looking down at Ugolini's beautiful Persian carpet. But the quarreling made her writhe inwardly. If they could not agree, if they were not careful in their planning, if they started to hate one another, they surely would end by being torn to pieces on the public scaffold.

"Let us speak about the young French count," she said. "He, too, might be a man we can use. I did my best to attract him to me today."

If he thinks there is hope of my seducing Simon, he will not be so quick to want to kill him.

David's eyes held hers for a long moment. "That is what I want you to do. That was why I was angry, not understanding this courtly love." His face was somber. "That is what I brought you here for."

She nodded, thinking, If only you could be my lover. There would be nothing courtly about it, and it would bring us both great happiness.

But only a moment ago, had she not been thinking of Simon, fearing for Simon's life? Had she not almost felt love for him?

What is happening to me?

Her hands in her lap clutched at each other. She felt dizzy. It had happened so easily, so quickly. Was she becoming more than one person, like someone possessed by spirits? How could you know who you were unless you had a place and were firmly attached to other people?

Now, looking at David, she was aware of the feelings Simon had aroused in her as if they were the feelings of another person. Sophia Karaiannides wanted David. Her longing for him had been growing in her ever since their eyes first met in Manfred's audience hall months before.

"What is troubling you?" David said, frowning.

She felt flustered. "Nothing." When he looked skeptical, she added, "I am not certain how he feels about me."

David glowered at her. She tried to read his expression. He looked angry. Was he angry at her for being willing to take Simon as a lover?

He probably thinks I am nothing but a whore.

She liked to think of herself as a woman who was able to move easily in many circles, a woman who involved herself in affairs of[188] state. But was she not deceiving herself? Was it not that all men valued her for was her body in bed? And David did not even want that; he just wanted to use her body to ensnare Simon de Gobignon.

Then why did he look at her so angrily?

"How will you find out what he feels for you?" David said. "Will you wait for him to make the next move?"

"I will send him a small favor, something he recognizes as mine. Then we will see how interested he is."

"Good," said David briskly.

As if dismissing her, he turned to Lorenzo. "Speaking of ladies and love, our young friend Rachel is still living here. I want you to escort her to Madama Tilia's house this afternoon."

Sophia stifled a gasp. She felt as if she had been struck from behind. She wanted to cry out in protest, but she knew it was useless.

"Must I?" said Lorenzo, and Sophia saw pain in his eyes.

"Remember your promise to me in Rome," David said, fixing him with a grim stare.

Lorenzo sighed. "I remember."

Sophia's heart, already bruised by her gloomy thoughts about herself, ached even harder for Rachel. She had tried to save her from being sent to Tilia's, but there was no more she could do. If Ugolini was right about their being in such terrible danger, Rachel might be safer at Tilia's than here.

How could she help Rachel, she thought desolately, when she herself was a stranger among strangers?

XVII

The beauty of Orvieto, Simon thought, was that, isolated as it was on its great rock, it was as big as it ever could be—and a man could go anywhere in the city quickly on foot. Those of wealth and rank often rode, but a horse or a sedan chair was a mark of distinction rather than a necessity. A bird looking down on the city[189] would see a roughly oval shape, longer from east to west. One might get lost in the twisting side streets but otherwise could walk along the Corso from one end of Orvieto to the other while less than half the sand trickled through an hour glass. From Ugolini's mansion on the south side of the town, Simon reached the Palazzo Monaldeschi, near the northern wall, so quickly, he barely had time to think over the events of the day.

David of Trebizond was a trader, after all, and traders needed armed men to protect their caravans. Why worry about the three men with swords and crossbows he had seen with Giancarlo? They were far from being an army.

But was David actually sending out any caravans?

If I could put someone in the enemy camp ...

Before entering the Palazzo