‘Ah, ugly nun,’ he says eventually. ‘Sit.’
There’s a small stool in front of him. I go to sit there.
‘First, what I want to know is, how honest has our friend Thanatos been about the contents of this book? He’d better be trustworthy. I’ve let Luca live at his command.’
Of course Ramberti and Thanatos don’t trust each other. They recognise each other’s greed and dishonesty. And of course Thanatos wants Luca alive. Luca is the falcon needed to take the book to Temple Knoll.
Ramberti lifts the book to inspect its lock more closely. It’s a simple opening mechanism. One twist of Ramberti’s thumb ought to be enough, but the book stays resolutely shut. I sense his frustration.
Only the owner can open the book. Perhaps Ramberti knows the legend. He thinks he’s the owner now. But, unbeknown to him, he’s given me hope. If he can’t get the book open, maybe that’s because Luca is still alive.
I take a deep breath. ‘Only Luca can open it.’
‘What?’
‘Only the book’s owner can open it. That means Luca.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. His father gave it to me.’
I look down. This is not my secret. But it is a truth I have to tell. ‘It wasn’t his to give. He had already passed it on to Luca.’
‘What?’ Enraged, Ramberti runs a hand over his face.
‘It’s already Luca’s—’
He roars and struggles to control himself. ‘You’ll visit Luca in hospital. Get him to open it—’
Hospital?
‘Is Luca injured?’ I cry.
‘The foolish Conte is dazed, but still alive. Now take the book. Bring it back. Open. A guard will see you’re safe—and don’t forget I have Serafina.’
Ramberti’s guard holds my arm tightly, ensuring there’s no chance for escape as he pushes me through the twists and turns of a bewildering maze of Jerusalem streets. Finally, we reach a house converted to a hospital for injured knights.
In one of the upstairs rooms, my eyes land on the face I most want to see. Luca. His head is wrapped in white linen. His eyes are open, but he obviously finds it difficult to focus.
‘A nasty head wound,’ a nurse says. She has blood on her apron. ‘It’s lucky he survived.’
I’m filled with so much emotion the room around me seems to throb. Luca, injured, is oblivious. His fingers pick bits of fluff from the blanket.
I pass him the book. Our hands brush.
Notice it, Luca, I silently beg. Feel that I’m here.
How could he not respond to me? His injury must be very serious.
‘How can I help him?’ I demand. ‘Have you seen injuries like this before?’
‘He’ll get better,’ the nurse tells me. ‘He needs time.’
Luca opens the book and hands it back. He returns to the blanket and the fluff.
‘Luca!’ I cry. ‘It’s me! Suzan! How can you just lie here like this?’
The guard raises his hand to my shoulder.
‘I want to stay.’
‘We both know that isn’t going to happen,’ the guard says.
‘God look after you, Luca,’ I say.
Luca doesn’t look up.
Ramberti doesn’t let the book close again. I try a couple of times. After all, if it closes I can see Luca again. But Ramberti scarcely lets me touch it even while I’m reading.
‘Where is Serafina?’ I demand.
‘Stay with the book, Suzan. Find me information about Thanatos. I want information first. I’ll make a deal. If I’m satisfied, you can see the bride at noon.’
I read as slowly as I can, often glancing up to watch demons who lurk in every corner of every room. The image of Luca lying injured has burned into my mind. It stains everything I see. I want the book to tell me how I can get to him, how I can help him. Ramberti stares out of a nearby window and taps his fingers on the table. He’s seen the book now. I wait for him to see demons too. He seems immune. Maybe he has never glanced at a page.
How is Luca? Recovering? Looking for me?
‘Move forwards,’ Ramberti says impatiently. ‘Go halfway through the pages. Read from there. Find Thanatos’s name. He has plans to doublecross me, I’m sure of it.’
I blink, but I do as he asks. At least, Ramberti thinks I do. Although I read about incantations making demons visible, I conceal from Ramberti the most important information. I never let slip for a moment that what the book says can change. And such a possibility has apparently never occurred to Ramberti—which might mean Thanatos doesn’t know, either.
What implications could this have for the Jerusalem charm? If only I had Luca here to talk it all over with! But when I find the story of the charm my mother used to make me appear ugly, my finger stills despite myself. The book has continued to write itself. There’s more information in this section now, including an image like Thanatos himself, standing where I’m sure an image of Father Eser used to stand.
Is that what the book is telling me? I remember the charm that defeated Eser. The book wants to make sure I realise that this charm can defeat Thanatos too.
‘Read that bit again, about the king,’ Ramberti insists.
It’s easy to keep the book’s true secrets to myself because Ramberti, in his pride, really only wants to hear about himself. I find it easily.
People, blood-maddened, will respond by demanding a king of their own. A stable man. A strong man. A man of God.
Ramberti listens and smiles. This is what he wanted to hear. He stands at the window from time to time, watching the sun. He gives me fruit to eat when I tire. He doesn’t want me to stop. I eat apples and pocket their seeds. Ramberti is distracted and doesn’t notice.
The bell rings for noon prayers and I remind him that he said I could see Serafina.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Ramberti smiles cruelly.
He doesn’t notice Thanatos, who slides in, looking impatient. ‘My time is near. I need to know where everything is,’ he says, before disappearing again into a faint trail smoke.
As though he heard Thanatos, Ramberti stands. There’s a long roll of white fabric near him. He picks it up.
‘We’ve got business outside. Before we go to Temple Knoll. Carry the book carefully. There will be consequences if it closes again.’
‘Carry the book?’
‘No time to waste. We’ll read it while we walk.’
CHAPTER 25
Separated
THE OLD CITY
Suzan
Carrying his roll of white fabric, Ramberti leads me up a narrow cobblestone road between rows of storehouses with heavy timber doors. As we walk, I hear clashing swords and despairing screams and, above all, the hysterical laughter of demons. Rumour, as fragile as a puff of smoke, makes its way through the streets. People talk as we pass. Tancred has promised sanctuary in Al Aqsa Mosque on Temple Knoll to Saracens who surrender peacefully there. I clutch the book, trying not to stumble.
Ramberti is pleased by the destruction.
‘Pilgrims will cry out for a powerful king,’ I say, pretending it’s what I just read.
‘And I’ll be waiting! This is the Via Dolorosa. Jesus walked this road, on his way to be crucified. How appropriate that I should walk here, on my way to the throne.’
We pass many small chapels, each showing a station of the cross. I’m amazed that Saracens allowed these chapels to exist. I remember Luca wondering just what we were rescuing Jerusalem from. I wonder too! One chapel marks the place where Jesus was crowned with thorns, and another where his hands were nailed to the cross. Each has a timber door shut against this morning’s violence. Eventually, the buildings end and the road opens into a wide, flat plaza, constructed of stones and supported by sturdy arches.
‘It’s Temple Knoll,’ Ramberti says. ‘Come on, ugly nun! Don’t loiter!’
But I pause. I can’t help it. On one side of the plaza, a brilliantly tiled octagonal building squats beneath a shiny gold dome, the shape of a pilgrim’s helme
t. I recognise it from Luca’s book as the Dome of the Rock. Here, the Bible says, Abraham offered to sacrifice his son Isaac. Here, Mohamed is said to have ascended to Heaven.
High on the dome’s curved roofline fly the banners of our Princes Bohemond and Raymond. After years on the road, it no longer surprises me to see pilgrim banners flying over a Saracen building. No doubt the same flags will soon fly over Al Aqsa, the darker mosque on the plaza’s far side.
Ramberti grabs my arm and pulls me towards a small nearby chapel.
A flash in front of the mosque catches my attention. It’s Thanatos. Narlo walks beside him. Thanatos’s beautiful face is soured by a dark scowl as he spots me. Quickly—I hope quickly enough—I cast my eyes downwards.
But it’s Ramberti that Thanatos’s eyes alight on. The scowl changes into an expression of determination. Thanatos taps Narlo’s arm. The two cross the plaza towards us.
‘Suzan…’ Ramberti begins again, but stops. He has spotted Thanatos materialising though the smoke.
‘Ramberti.’ Thanatos’s tone is deep and menacing.
Narlo looks dazed, as though sleepwalking. Is Thanatos ensuring his loyalty by bewitching him? I wrap my black robe more tightly around myself and pretend I’m a shadow in the smoke.
‘Thanatos,’ Ramberti replies.
‘I hear safety is guaranteed for all seeking sanctuary in the mosque. Humans have stopped killing each other. Explain the banners. This is not what we planned.’
‘Men are fools,’ Ramberti hisses. ‘Those banners guarantee safety for the bodies until you need them. That’s all.’
‘You mean that’s the purpose of this sanctuary?’ Thanatos looks sceptical. ‘There aren’t ten thousand people there.’
Ramberti scowls. ‘There will be. I’m seeing to that now. It would be easier to proceed without interruptions.’
Nausea eats into my stomach. I peer at the mosque. So many people are trapped in there!
‘I will be watching,’ Thanatos says to Ramberti. ‘Make sure you live up to your side of our deal. No more tricks!’
He walks back towards the mosque. Narlo drifts along behind him, like a shadow.
Ramberti pulls me into the chapel. Shards of broken glass litter the ground.
‘You’ll let him murder all those people?’ I demand.
‘What do they mean to you? They’re Saracens, most of them. Probably. Soon they’ll be in Hell. By tonight I’ll be King of Jerusalem. You will bow down to me.’
He shakes his fabric roll out on the altar, revealing it to be two long white robes. He passes one to me and slides the other over his head. It falls over his shoulders, concealing his customary black cassock and chainmail.
I stand still, holding the robe he passed me. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You don’t need to understand. Change behind a pillar. I have no desire to see your body,’ Ramberti sneers. ‘I’m about to become holy St Andrew himself.’
Revolted by his leering gaze, I do step behind the pillar. I remove my cloak but not my tunic, and slip the white garment over the top, clutching my pouch in one hand.
When I emerge, Ramberti looks me over and nods. He takes off his peaked black biretta and runs his fingers through his hair, loosening it into a cloud of grey and white. That, combined with the different robe, changes him into quite a different person.
‘Let down your hair,’ he tells me.
‘Why?’
‘Because you have good reason for obeying me.’
I reach up and unpin my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. Ramberti drapes a long white and red veil over my head. I can wear my pouch again now, concealed. The front of the veil falls over my eyes.
‘Hold the edge over your mouth.’ Ramberti shows me. ‘We don’t want your face visible. We’re going for a walk. If you want to see Luca again, you’ll keep your head covered. And you won’t lose or close that book. Do you understand?’
We walk along more cobblestone streets, past buildings whose doors swing open like loose teeth. I look out for the building where Luca’s being nursed, but we don’t pass it. Former churches, once converted into mosques, are now being violently turned back into churches. It’s apparent that Christian Jerusalem won’t be as tolerant of Saracen mosques as Saracen Jerusalem was of Christian chapels. Saracen crescents are pushed off roofs and chopped up for firewood. Parchment pages are torn from Saracen Korans and set on fire. A group of Saracen men are having their long beards chopped off, then their heads.
‘God wills it!’ pilgrim knights continue to cry.
It smells like an animal yard on slaughter day. Bodies are piled against every exterior wall. Pools of blood on the ground are drying into vast scabs, as if the earth itself has been sliced open and needs to heal.
I raise my arm to breathe through the tunic. Ramberti directs me into an empty house. In the dim light, I make out a burned-out fire in a hearth in the middle of the room, and a pile of rags at the back.
Two men wearing crusaders’ crosses sit at a long table, eating and drinking wine. One is Peter Bartholomew, who stands when we enter, before throwing himself at Ramberti’s feet.
‘I have a message,’ Ramberti says.
‘Yes, St Andrew?’ Peter says.
St Andrew? That’s what’s been going on. Ramberti has been fooling Peter, pretending to be a miraculous vision so Peter will pass on Ramberti’s desired messages.
I stand beside Ramberti, my head bowed and face concealed. The other pilgrim points at me. ‘See the dark hair! It’s Adhemar himself!’
‘I told you last time that, one day, you would see Adhemar,’ Ramberti says in an assured voice. ‘You must have faith and believe I speak the truth. You must continue allowing Saracens to seek refuge in Al Aqsa Mosque on Temple Knoll. Take a pilgrim army up there at vespers. God himself will decide what happens next.’
It isn’t God who wants those bodies kept alive. It’s Thanatos. However much Ramberti distrusts him, he’s continuing to act out the terms of their agreement. If only I could fling off my hood and expose Ramberti’s lies! But his earlier threat to hurt Serafina silences me.
Luca, how do I get out of this?
Back in the chapel where we donned our disguises, we change back into our own clothes. Something brushes against my foot. A rat. I shiver, then stop. I don’t want Ramberti to spot any weakness.
I watch the rat scurry into a corner and over the face of a dead woman. Her eyes stare unseeingly. Instinctively, I genuflect.
‘What is it?’ Ramberti demands.
I answer without thinking. ‘They shouldn’t kill people in a chapel.’
‘We kill Jesus with every mass. We drink his blood. Don’t worry about Saracens. We’re doing God’s work. Jesus already decided not to save them.’
Ramberti finds a lamp. He passes me something soft that turns out to be a scarf, and pulls out his biretta. He brushes his hair back into place as he puts it on. ‘We have some reading to do while we wait for the Council of Princes to act on Peter’s news.’
I want to cry, to scream. I have to stop this man, like I have to stop the demons. But there’s been no word of Luca or his recovery, and I can’t get away from Ramberti to find him again.
So, what can I do? I have the book and I have my share of the herbs we need. I might need to act on my own.
Luca
‘Good knight, be careful.’
The words wake me. I blink. A face swims into view. I feel soft fabric beneath me and, above the face, I see a simple timber ceiling.
‘Don’t move too quickly,’ a woman says.
Pain splits me like an axe into my skull. My hand flies up, touching a bandage wrapped around my head. I remember a collapsing building. I have a memory like a dream, of Suzan leaning over me, asking me to open the book. Suzan!
Ramberti. The book. The danger Suzan is in.
All this comes crashing into my mind. I try to sit up, but the woman rests her hand on my forehead.
‘You’ve got a head inju
ry.’ She has a deep voice and a strange accent. Long hair comes into focus, and soft eyes, darker than Suzan’s. She moves away and returns with a piece of black fabric covering her hair. She’s a Saracen.
I gaze around the room. My sword is within reach, and my chainmail, hauberk and chausses are draped over the back of a nearby chair. My leather pouch looks promisingly weighty. No one has stolen my helm.
I try once again to sit up. The room goes dark.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. My head aches. The room looks different. Through a wide doorway, light falls onto a stone floor, illuminating a simple wooden table with two chairs. A hearth in the corner contains the remains of a fire. It’s daytime. The woman who is not Suzan has gone.
Where is Suzan? I have to make sure she’s safe.
‘Good morning?’ I call.
There’s no response and I’m unsure it is morning. I swing my legs over the side of the pallet. They’re pale and bare. I try to stand, and nearly fall.
Voices outside. How long have I been here?
My head is tightly bandaged. I count to ten then try, more slowly this time, to stand. I make it to the chair and sit while I pull the tunic over my head and the hose onto my legs. I stand again. The ground feels more steady now. Slowly, slowly I pick up my chainmail, my leather pouch and sword. I walk out the door.
‘Good morning!’ I call.
There’s no reply. I look through a doorway into another room. Three knights in bloody bandages rest or sleep in there. What’s been going on in the world? I can’t stay here waiting. In the hall, I pass a woman with a broom.
‘Where am I?’ I demand. ‘What day is it?’
But she places a finger over her mouth in the manner of those who’ve taken vows of silence.
I walk outside. ‘Good day,’ I call to the first knight I pass.
He nods at me.
I ask him if he knows where Dragonus Ramberti is. He shrugs. The bell rings for noon prayers. So at least I know what time it is, if not what day. He doesn’t know that, or anything about Suzan. She’ll have entered the city by now, whatever day it is. The best way to check that she’s safe from Ramberti in these crowds of thousands is to find Ramberti himself. I’ll have to keep on asking until I get the answer I need.
The Book of Whispers Page 29
