by Robert Shea
II
Messer Lorenzo Celino of Sicily strode into the cell. He held in hishands a large round slice of bread heaped with steaming slivers of meatthat gave off an unfamiliar but succulent smell.
Daoud slowly climbed to his feet. The hound Scipio, trailing Celino,watched him, standing in the doorway, as if unwilling to enter thevile-smelling chamber.
Daoud measured Celino. The top of the Sicilian's head would come toDaoud's chin, but the shoulders under his violet tunic were broad andstraight, and he moved with menacing grace. Daoud judged that, thoughCelino must be close to fifty, he would be quick and deadly with handsand feet, and a good swordsman as well.
"God's beard, man, I didn't mean to keep you sitting in this room allday without food or drink," Celino said. "The damned farmers and traderskept coming and coming. But you cannot eat in this stinking place. Comeout."
Daoud emerged into the next room, and Lorenzo motioned him to sit at theguards' table. Even though Daoud felt deep relief at being out of thecell, he sensed he was in greater danger than before. His mouth went dryand the palms of his hands turned cold as his eyes scanned the room forweapons or an escape route.
Lorenzo set the trencher and its burden of meat down before Daoud.
"Just butchered. Here, eat in good health. And here is a beaker of ourgood red wine of Monte Vultura." Daoud heard a false note in Celino'spresent heartiness and liked it even less than his earlier gruffsuspicion.
Wine. An abomination forbidden by the Prophet. As Celino set a pitcherand two cups down on the table, Daoud recalled the nights he had spentwith Sheikh Saadi learning to master wine and other drugs.
_God prohibits the drinking of wine and the eating of unclean foods, notfor His good, for nothing can harm Him, but for our good. Therefore,when a man goes among the infidel as a spy, God permits him to eat anddrink the forbidden things lest he be discovered and put to death. Youmust learn to separate your mind from your body so that what harms yourbody will not affect your mind._
Daoud raised the cup, wondering if he would have as much power over winedrunk in the land of the infidel as he did when he drank it with histeacher. He sipped. The red liquid was thick and bitter and burned hismouth, but he made himself smile, sigh appreciatively, and sip again. Hekept God at the center of his thoughts.
Celino was watching him closely. Raising his cup in salute, he alsodrank.
"Good, good. Now eat. Fresh roasted. Pork."
Daoud's fingers, poised over the meat, stopped short. Already made illby hunger, by the vile odor of the room in which he had been confined,and by the wine that made his stomach churn, he felt himself on thepoint of vomiting. For nearly twenty years the prohibition againsteating the flesh of pigs had been impressed upon him until the verythought of pork made him sick. He knew he should have prepared himselfby eating it before he left El Kahira, but he had never found time forthat. So now, a prisoner of the enemy, he faced for the first time thetest of pork.
Celino was watching him with a half smile.
_He would not test me with wine and pig's meat unless he suspected I ama Muslim._
Daoud's fingers grasped a slice of the hot meat. He tore it in half,using both his clean right hand and his unclean left as a non-Muslimwould.
He stuffed a slice of pork into his mouth. It had smelled good until hefound out what it was. Now it seemed slimy and tasteless. His stomachclenched, but he held himself rigid, expressionless. He started to chew,and found that his mouth was dry. His life might depend on his giving aconvincing imitation of pleasure. He chewed the meat to fragments and,as though savoring it, swallowed the abomination crumb by crumb.
He realized he was still holding the other scrap of pork in his lefthand. To give himself a respite, he tossed it to the flagstone floorbefore Lorenzo's hound.
Unclean to the unclean, he thought.
Scipio looked at Daoud with an almost human look of surprise, then bentto devour the meat.
"Friday, Scipio," said Celino sharply. "You are forbidden meat."
The dog looked sadly up at Celino, licked its chops, and sat back on itshaunches, leaving the meat untouched. In spite of his predicament, Daoudlaughed.
"You see?" said Celino. "Even a dog can learn to obey the commandments."
Celino gestured to the dog. "All right, Scipio, the bishop of Palermogives you a dispensation."
The dog stood and struck at the meat with his long muzzle. It vanishedto the accompaniment of loud gulping sounds.
"He likes it better than you do," Celino said. "You do not act veryhungry for a man who has not eaten all day. Come on, man, fill yourbelly."
Realizing that the pork would taste worse as it cooled, Daoud bracedhimself and stuffed piece after piece into his mouth, chewing andswallowing as rapidly as he could.
"And," said Celino, watching him with narrowed eyes, "a dog can betrained to break the commandments when permitted."
From time to time Daoud threw a scrap to Scipio, grateful for thehound's help. But as he ate, Daoud noticed that the meat began to tastebetter to him, and the juices of his mouth began to flow. The familiarfeeling of sorrow came over him, and he looked around at the white wallsand ceiling, the wooden beams overhead painted blue. In his mind's eyehe saw in their place yellow stone walls and a vaulted ceiling, andremembered that he had last tasted the flesh of pig at table with hisfather and mother.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and sat back. "Thank you. I feelbetter now."
Celino stood up, took the stale disk of bread, and dropped it to thefloor. Scipio picked it up in his mouth.
"Then have the goodness to accompany me to the Hall of Mars, MesserDavid," he said, and turned.
_He shows me that he is not afraid to turn his back_, Daoud thought,picking up his pack and following Celino. The Hall of Mars, heremembered, was an indoor exercise hall for Manfred's troops. Theyclimbed stairs and walked through rooms in which Muslim soldiers werecleaning and polishing helmets, coats of mail, and weapons. In one room,men were painting shields. All the shields were yellow and bore theblack two-headed eagle of the Hohenstaufens.
Daoud followed Lorenzo into a very large, bare room with a floor ofpolished hardwood. Ropes and chains hung from the walls and the beamedceiling. Tall windows cut high up in smooth walls--too high to jumpto--let in afternoon sunlight and fresh air that did not quite dispel aheavy odor of sweat. Opposite the doorway through which they passed wasanother and larger entrance, with double doors. The room was not square;the walls were of differing lengths and set at angles. Daoud recalledthe octagonal shape of Castello Lucera's central tower.
He reviewed the plan of the castle he had committed to memory in ElKahira. He was sure that behind the double doors was the great royalaudience hall. The wide doorway would allow troops assembled in the Hallof Mars to march into the audience chamber for a review.
Daoud noticed a group of Muslim guards lounging in one corner. AtLorenzo's entrance they touched their hands to their turbans in salute.Lorenzo responded with the same gesture. Scipio carried the trencher inhis mouth to a corner of the room, where he lay down and began pushingthe hard bread around with his forepaws and, working at it with hisformidable teeth, making loud crunching noises.
Celino led Daoud to the center of the room. He turned suddenly on Daoud.
"Now, spy, you will tell me exactly who you are and exactly where youcome from," he said rapidly. "You will tell me the truth, or you willdie here and now."
Daoud came within a breath of answering, then realized Lorenzo hadspoken in Arabic. Relieved laughter bubbled up toward his throat--he hadnot been caught. He choked it down and assumed a puzzled expression.
"I do not understand," Daoud said in Italian. "What tongue are youspeaking, Messer Lorenzo?"
"Liar," said Lorenzo, still in Arabic, his eyes narrowing.
"I understand Italian, Greek, and, of course, the speech of Scythia,"said Daoud. "If you would question me, speak in one of those tongues."Daoud sensed that the Sicilian's sudden shifts of mood
were calculated.While his mouth uttered accusations, Celino's eyes watched him with acalm intelligence that reminded Daoud of an emir examining afine-looking horse for hidden flaws.
Daoud saw, at the edge of his vision, that the guards who had beenlounging in the corner of the hall were now in motion. He glancedquickly left and right. Three men, about fifty paces away, were comingat him, curved swords drawn. The dog, Scipio, had abandoned the trencherand risen to his feet, and he, too, was advancing on Daoud, fangs bared.
Lorenzo stepped away from Daoud, still pointing at him.
"Spegni! Kill!"
Tension crackled across Daoud's stomach like a lash. Three swords, and adog that looked capable of killing a man. None of the weapons he hadhidden on him would do for this. He slung his pack toward the wallbehind him, leaving both hands free.
He half turned, to keep Lorenzo in sight while watching the advancingmen. The Sicilian had a long dagger in a scabbard hung by his rightside, but he did not draw it.
Facing the three swords, Daoud had not yet raised his hands. But hislegs tensed. He bent at the knees, shifted his weight to the balls ofhis feet.
He whirled and sprang at Lorenzo. The Sicilian jumped backward, andDaoud could hear behind him the pounding of booted feet on the woodenfloor. The dog barked furiously.
Daoud grappled with Lorenzo. The Sicilian grabbed his forearms, tryingto hold him at a distance, and his strength was almost a match forDaoud's. But Daoud twisted his arms free, drove in, and caught Celino'sneck in the bend of his left arm. He swung him around so that theSicilian's body was between himself and the three attacking soldiers.While Lorenzo stumbled, Daoud plucked the man's dagger out of itsscabbard. It had two sharp edges and came to a diamond-bright point.
Scipio leapt at him, but Daoud shifted Lorenzo between himself and thehound, and Scipio fell back. His enraged barking was deafening, like theroar of a lion. His fangs were a row of bone spear-points. He dancedright and left, seeking a way to get past Lorenzo to Daoud.
The joy of battle, the weapon in his hand, made Daoud feel the powercoursing through his arms. But that damned dog had to be stopped. Histeeth were as dangerous to Daoud as the curving blades of the threeMuslim soldiers. Those fangs could rip through his boots, tear themuscles of his legs, and cripple him. He would prefer death.
Releasing Lorenzo's neck, Daoud gripped Lorenzo's wrist and twisted,hard and fast. Biting his lip, Lorenzo resisted, but he had to turn andbend, or the pressure on his arm would break it. Daoud laid the edge ofLorenzo's dagger against his throat.
"Call off your dog or I cut your throat." Daoud glanced over hisshoulder to make sure no one was behind him.
"By all means cut my throat," Lorenzo flung back at him. "And Scipiowill tear _your_ throat out."
"If the dog jumps at me, I will gut him."
"The devil roast your balls," Lorenzo growled. "Scipio, sit!"
The hound stopped barking and stared at Lorenzo.
"Down, Scipio!" Lorenzo said. "He will not hurt me." To Daoud he said,"If you do hurt me, you will suffer such things that you will beg us tokill you."
Scipio reluctantly crouched, murder in his brown eyes and a steady, lowgrowling issuing from his throat. The three Muslim guards were stillmoving forward, far more warily.
Daoud felt strong and able now to deal with these four men, but he couldalmost feel the weight of the overwhelming trap he was in. The thickwalls. The thousands of soldiers. It was hopeless. He could fight ononly until he died. And that was not what he had come here for at all.
Daoud stepped back toward the farther doorway, pulling Lorenzo with him.He glanced over his shoulder to be sure no one was behind him.
"For my part," said Daoud, "I will hurt you till you beg _them_ to putdown their swords. I will start by breaking your arm." He gave thetwisted arm a vicious upward push till he could almost feel the agony ofthe tendons. Lorenzo grunted, and Scipio barked angrily. Most men, Daoudthought, would have screamed aloud at that.
"No matter what you do to me, it will not help you," said Lorenzo.
Three more turbaned Muslim soldiers joined those coming at Daoud. Theyspread out in a wide circle, some of them trying to slip around to hisrear.
"Stand where you are, or I'll kill him," Daoud shouted. To show he meantit, he pressed the knife edge hard against Celino's throat and slicedwith it just enough to draw blood.
"I hope you will enjoy the taste of your own intestines," Lorenzo said.He dug his boot heels into the wooden floor, trying to slow down Daoud'seffort to drag him to the door. Daoud pushed up harder on his arm tomake him move faster.
Daoud felt no fear of death, and he would not let them take him prisonerto torture him. He would die fighting. And go straight to paradise.
But how foolish all this was. A waste of his own life and the lives hewould take with him. And many of those he would kill were Muslims, likehimself.
"You must know that you will be the first to die here," he said. "Andbelieve me I will take many of your men with me. I may even manage tokill your precious dog. I did not come here to fight with King Manfred'smen. Why are you doing this?"
Celino, who had been struggling against Daoud, now relaxed and turnedhis head. "You are too dangerous to live."
"Dangerous to whom?"
"To me," said a deep voice behind Daoud.
