The Saracen: Land of the Infidel

by Robert Shea

  XXIV

  Rachel's body felt cold. She knew the night outside was warm despite thelateness of the hour, and the room was stifling, with all its candlesand the heavy silk draperies that held in the heat. But her feet andhands were icy. It was fear that chilled her so as she sat halflistening to Tilia. She huddled in a corner of the big bed, her feettucked under her, her hands clenched in her lap. She wanted to jump outthe window.

  Only, she was here of her own free will. And anyway the window wasbarred.

  "We will be watching through spy holes in the walls," said Tilia. "Therewill be at least three of us. If he hurts you in any way, we will behere in a trice to rescue you."

  Tilia Caballo had a face like a frog, Rachel thought. The fat old womanwas trying to be reassuring, but just now Rachel hated her. She couldnot believe Tilia would interfere with a wealthy client's pleasure nomatter how badly a girl of hers was being hurt.

  The skepticism must have shown in her face, because Tilia had said, "Iknow this man. He has been here five times. He is not the kind thatlikes to hurt women. I do have patrons of that sort. For them I supplywomen like Olivia. Sometime when you are not so frightened I may tellyou what Olivia likes men to do to her. Of course, she pretends not tolike it. Her clients would get no pleasure if they knew Olivia _wanted_them to do what they do. But no matter how I gain my livelihood, I amstill a woman of honor." She glowered fiercely at Rachel, jowlsquivering slightly. "I do not allow certain things to take place in myhouse. I do not allow my women to be mistreated."

  "I know," said Rachel. "That is why I have not run away."

  "You need not speak of running away," said Tilia loftily. "The door willbe open for you whenever you wish to walk through it." Rachel believedthat, just as she had believed gruff Lorenzo Celino when he told hershe did not have to go to Tilia's house. But she also knew that if shehad not come here, or if she chose now to walk out that door, thesepeople would do nothing more for her.

  Staying, much as she might hate what would happen to her, was betterthan wandering alone on the roads of Italy.

  She looked up at the canopy over the bed. It was peach-colored, as werethe bed curtains. The walls of the small room were hung with yellow silkdrapes framing frescoes showing nude, smiling women fleeing fromcreatures that were half man and half goat, with things that stuck outbefore them like spears.

  "Real men do not have pizzles as big as that," Tilia had said when shefirst showed Rachel the room, pointing with a grin at a bright redorgan. "Although it may look that big to you the first time you see onein all its glory." Tilia had stopped joking then, and had carefully toldher exactly what would happen on this night.

  _I am better prepared_, Rachel thought, _than many a woman is on herwedding night_.

  Indeed, her own mother, months before she died, had already explainedmuch of this to Rachel. But the thought of her mother fairly broke herheart now. Her mother would cut her own throat if she could see Rachelin this place, about to let a man do this thing to her for money.

  Her body shrank with dread.

  She would rather, far rather, be the ignorant bride of a carpenter or atraveling merchant like her poor Angelo, who had been her husband inname only, or even the wife of a butcher, than to lie here in thisgorgeously decorated room and give her most precious gift to a strangerwho had bought the right to deflower her.

  She found herself wishing poor old Angelo had asserted his right as herhusband so that she could not now let her virginity be defiled.

  _Thank God Angelo is not alive to see this! But if he had lived, I wouldnot be doing this._

  _God will never forgive me._

  _But if God does not want me to do what I am doing, why did He let thishappen to me?_

  Tilia sat beside the bed in a big chair with a curved bottom. Thejeweled cross she wore--which reminded Rachel that she was amongChristians here and therefore not safe--rested on her bosom, halfcovered by the gold lace bordering the neckline of her gown. The crossquivered minutely with Tilia's heartbeat.

  "You are probably wondering, child, whether you are doing the rightthing."

  "Yes." Rachel was so choked with fear that she could only whisper theword.

  "Well, I can tell you there are thousands of women who would giveanything to be in your place."

  "In my place? To become a putana?"

  Tilia laughed. "You think most women are contentedly married, withhusbands to take care of them, with children who love them and neighborswho respect them--while only a few like me and the women who work for meare putane, whom the rest look down on. Well, listen to me, little one,other women _envy_ us. A married woman sells herself, body and soul, tobe some man's slave for life. And she gets damned little in return. Werent out this little part of our anatomy"--she patted her lap--"for amoment, and we keep the profit for ourselves. If we are clever, as Ihave been, we learn how to keep and increase our money. So when we nolonger have youth and beauty to sell, we can take care of ourselves. AndI tell you that a woman in her later years is likely to be a betterfriend to herself than any husband."

  _She speaks with conviction. But I cannot trust her, either. I have nothad a true friend in this world since Angelo was killed._

  Rachel sighed. "It is just that after tonight there is no turning back.This is for the rest of my life."

  "That is right," said Tilia. "You will give up something that you canlose only once. When you have a commodity as unique as that, my child,you owe it to yourself to get the most you can for it." Her eyeshardened. "Every man wants to be the first to pierce a woman and hearher cry out and make her bleed. But what woman gets anything worthhaving in return? She gives it away on a dark night to some furfantewith a smooth tongue and a handsome leg, or else the tonto she marriedtakes it from her and then tells her to go wash the bed linen." Sheturned to stare at Rachel. "Do you know what I got for my virginity?"Her cheeks were red with anger.

  "What did you get, Signora?" The heat with which Tilia spoke reassuredRachel. This was what the woman really felt. She was not just talking tolead Rachel astray.

  "Blows and slavery." Tilia thrust her face close to Rachel's tounderline her words. "Blows and slavery. The Genoese, may leprosy devourtheir limbs and may their prickles fall off in their hands, raidedOtranto. They raped me--that was how I lost _my_ virginity. They sold meto the Turks."

  "You were a slave to the Turks?" Rachel gasped. "Where?" And how did sheescape them and come to Orvieto and grow so rich and fat?

  Tilia looked away. "Never mind. It would take too long to tell you."Rachel sensed that there was something here Tilia did not want to talkabout. But she resolved to pry the story out of her one day.

  Tilia's head swung back to face her. "Have I told you what you aregetting this night for giving this man this proud moment of possessing avirgin?"

  "I--I do not remember." Tilia had named a figure, but it had been sooutrageous and Rachel had been so frightened by the prospect that shehad promptly forgotten it.

  "By the five wounds of Jesus, you truly are a child, not to remembersomething so important! Well, fix it in your mind this time, and thinkof it when you are wondering whether you are doing right. Five hundredgolden florins. Five hundred, newly minted in Florence. That is yourshare. That is half of what he is paying. The other half is mine, as isonly just. Think of it. He pays the price of a palazzo for you becauseyou are a very young, beautiful virgin, and that is what he mostdesperately desires. Compare that with what most women get when they leta man have them for the first time."

  _That is far more money than Angelo ever saw in his whole life. Who isthis man who will pay so much to have me?_ Rachel supposed Tilia wouldtell her who the man was if she asked, but she had decided it was betternot to know anything about him ahead of time. That way she could imaginethat he would be someone kind and gentle.

  "I do not know what I will do with all that money," Rachel said softly.

  _If I lose it, all this will have been for nothing._

  Tilia's wide mouth stretched e
ven wider in a grin. "I will show you howto plant it."

  "Plant it?"

  "Yes, and then watch it grow. There are many, many fields in which toplant money. You can place it with the Templars or certain Lombards ormen I know among your own Jews, and they use it, and when they give itback to you there is more. Miracolo! Or you can buy beautiful andvaluable things with it, whose worth increases as they get older. Or youcan buy shares in a ship of Venice or Pisa, or even"--she spat--"Genoa,or a German caravan, and when the caravan or the ship comes back, if itcomes back, you get your money back tenfold. That is risky, but it isthe quickest way to great wealth."

  Rachel felt a momentary excitement. Then she remembered how she wasgoing to get the money. Her body felt colder than ever, cold as death.This, she thought, must be the way that poor man they killed last weekfelt when he was waiting for the torturers to come for him. Sheshuddered and hugged her knees tight against her chest under the gauzygown Tilia had given her to wear.

  Tilia must have seen the sudden darkening of her mood. She moved over tothe bed and sat down beside Rachel, making the frame of the bed groanalarmingly. She put a hand lightly on Rachel's arm.

  "Listen, Rachel. I was raped. I will not be party to the rape ofanother. You do not have to do this. Just tell me that you do not wantto."

  A sudden heat rushed through Rachel's body. She was no longer cold. Sheburned with anger.

  "Stop saying that!" she screamed. "Will you leave me alone?" Beingreminded over and over again that she was doing this of her own freewill was an even worse torture than imagining what the man would do toher.

  _Oh, God, I am going to cry and make myself ugly, and he will not wantme and I will not get the five hundred florins._

  She pressed her hands against her face, trying to stop tears.

  "I was asking you to think, not carry on," said Tilia reprovingly. "Ifyou want to walk well in life, you had better learn not to burst intotears when you have an important decision to make."

  Rachel took deep breaths to calm herself.

  "I decided days ago that I could not do any better for myself than this,Signora Tilia. But I am so afraid. Perhaps the man will not want me whenhe sees how afraid I am."

  Tilia grinned broadly. "Nonsense. The more innocent and timid youappear, the more you will delight him."

  Rachel heard a light tapping at the door, and her heart beat so hard shethought it would burst.

  Tilia rose, brushing down her green satin gown. "The signal that he hasarrived. I thought he would never get here. It's almost morning. I mustgo down and greet him, child. But remember, I will be watchingeverything."

  _I do not really like that._

  Tilia winked and pushed on what looked like a plaster panel between twogold-painted beams in the wall. It swung away from her and she squeezedthrough.

  Rachel sat in the bed, drawn up into the corner of it that was farthestfrom the door, and waited. She played nervously with fingers that feltlike icicles.

  A short time later she caught a glimpse of Tilia pushing open the door,but her eyes fixed on the man standing in the doorway.

  She drew in a deep, gasping breath. She wanted to scream.

  The man standing in the doorway was short and broad. He wore a long,brightly colored silk robe. His skin was brown, his eyes little blackslits. A white mustache drooped below his flat nose. A thin white beardlike a goat's hung from his chin.

  She had seen this man once before, when she watched from the window ofSophia's room at Cardinal Ugolini's, the day he arrived in Orvieto in agreat procession.

  Rachel's breath, so long held, burst out of her in a moan.

  The man who had come to take her virginity was a Tartar.

  * * * * *

  "It was as much by my choice as the cardinal's that I did not attend thecontessa's reception," said Friar Mathieu, yawning. "How could a LittleBrother of San Francesco stay up till all hours with people stuffingthemselves with rich food and drinking wine? And gambling, and kissingeach other in dark corners?"

  The old Franciscan's eyes were watery with sleepiness, but the cornersof his mouth quirked with humor under his white mustache. He sat on theedge of the cot, which, as he had insisted when he moved into thePalazzo Monaldeschi, was the only piece of furniture in the room. Simonpaced the floor, unable to stand still.

  Simon felt the barb in the mention of kissing, but he did not mind it.When he routed Friar Mathieu out of his narrow bed in a remote corner ofthe palace, he admitted at once that he had been in the atrium withUgolini's niece, Sophia, while David of Trebizond was so disastrouslybaiting the Tartars.

  "I was wrong to pay court to the cardinal's niece." He could still feelher lips under his, still taste them, and his body tingled at theremembrance. "I am as much at fault as de Verceuil. But it was he whofound that ignorant woman to replace you as interpreter, and then hewent off to gamble--with David's servant, of all people--and left theTartars alone and unprotected."

  Friar Mathieu shook his head. "Yes, and drinking that wine ofMontefiascone. I wonder why God chose to make those particular grapes soirresistible."

  Simon pounded his fist into his palm. "We must confront de Verceuil,Friar Mathieu."

  A deep crease appeared between the thick white eyebrows. "At this hour?"

  Simon saw the fatigue in Mathieu's wrinkled face and felt guilty. "I ammost heartily sorry for awakening you at this ungodly time of night. Itwas just--"

  "Just that you could not sleep yourself." The friar laughed. "But it isa most Godly time of night. The fact is, I would have had to get up soonto say the first part of my office. Were I living with my brotherFranciscans--as I wish I were--I would be up chanting lauds with them.But I fear the cardinal will be neither willing nor able to talk to usif we go to him now."

  "So much damage has been done, Friar Mathieu. The contessa is furious. Icould not begin to reason with her. She went on and on, talking aboutmurderers of babies. I would not be surprised if tomorrow morning sheordered us to leave her palazzo."

  The old man raised a hand. "Pope Urban would not let her do that. Itwould be an insult to the ambassadors."

  "Cardinal le Gros told me the pope looked pale and shaken when he left.He might not care whether the ambassadors are insulted. We can have nomore of de Verceuil's blundering."

  _Or mine._

  Friar Mathieu shook a finger at him. "What happened tonight is not thecardinal's doing. None of this is accidental. What happened tonightshows that Ugolini will do everything in his power to block thisalliance."

  "But Ugolini did nothing tonight. It was all that man from Trebizond."

  "That is like saying that the axe chops the tree down, and not thewoodsman wielding it. Ugolini brought David to the contessa's reception.He brought David's servant, an accomplished gambler as well as arecruiter of brigosi. And he brought his niece, Sophia."

  At the mention of Sophia a sharp pain went through Simon's chest.

  _Sophia cannot be part of it. Not when I have just found her._

  Was it possible that the passion she had showed in their time togetherin the atrium was a sham? That would be too cruel. And yet, how could heprove that she was innocent?

  "It is just a coincidence that Sophia is here in Orvieto now," he said."She is as undecided about this matter of the Tartars as the popehimself is."

  _But is the pope still undecided_, Simon wondered as he spoke.

  The wrinkles around Friar Mathieu's faded blue eyes deepened a little."Well, I would not expect you to say otherwise. A knight does not doubtthe honor of a lady he has kissed."

  Simon sensed Friar Mathieu's skepticism, but he could not bring himselfto believe that Sophia had knowingly been the cardinal's agent. Thiswoman had made Italy a place of enchantment for him.

  Friar Mathieu went on. "We both agree, do we not, that the luring ofCardinal de Verceuil by David's man, Giancarlo, was planned by Ugolini?"

  Glad to be on safer ground, Simon nodded vigorously. "We agree on that,to b
e sure."

  "But we cannot simply go to de Verceuil, as you proposed, and denouncehim for having left the room with Giancarlo. Not when he can at oncepoint out that you also left the room--with Sophia."

  Simon turned his back on Friar Mathieu and stared out, almost unseeing,toward the window. It had neither glass nor shutters nor parchment, onlya gauze curtain to discourage insects, iron bars to keep out largerintruders. He felt furious with himself.

  The mention of Giancarlo reminded him that he had heard nothing fromSordello. By now the old mercenary should have insinuated himself intothe band Giancarlo was gathering. Perhaps through Sordello Simon couldprove Sophia's innocence.

  He noticed now that some light was coming through the curtain, and hethought he heard birds singing. He had been up all night.

  "Then you think it pointless for us to confront de Verceuil? I supposeyou do not think I should write to Count Charles, either."

  "I think it very unlikely that Count Charles would give the cardinal'sresponsibilities in this to someone else. I think it very likely thatCardinal de Verceuil has his intriguers around the count who would learnof your message and might set themselves to do you harm. No, I do notthink we can rid ourselves of the cardinal. But I agree that we shouldmeet with him."

  Simon was bewildered. "To do what?"

  Friar Mathieu shrugged. "No man is beyond redemption. He must realizethat because of his blundering tonight--our blundering--the mission isperilously close to failing. Perhaps we can convince him that in thefuture we must work together. Otherwise there will be no glory for himto steal from us."

  The old friar had been sleeping only in a robe of gray frieze. He pulleda sleeveless brown mantle over his head and tied a white cord around hiswaist, and he was dressed for the day. Simon envied him the simplicityof his apparel. It took him a good deal longer to dress himself in themorning, and he knew noblemen who spent hours in their wardrobes, withservants to help them, before they felt ready to face the world.

  "We will go now, then?" he asked.

  "Well, you are up. If the cardinal is as upset about this disaster asyou are, he may well have spent a sleepless night, too. Let us go andsee."

  They walked side by side down dim corridors cluttered with battered oldchairs and tables, past walls covered with tattered hangings, dentedshields, and rusty coats of mail. The Monaldeschi family, it seemed,never threw away anything. The rooms set aside for the cardinal and hisentourage were on the third floor of the palazzo, where the windows werelarger and set with white glass. A man wrapped in a blanket lay on asack of straw outside the door to the cardinal's rooms. The top of hishead, shaved in a tonsure, gleamed dully in the light of the one fatcandle that illuminated the corridor. A cleric in minor orders, nodoubt. Simon shook him.

  "No, Your Signory," the cleric said, yawning and stretching as he stoodup to bow properly to the count. "The cardinal is not sleeping, butneither is he here. After the contessa's reception he and the Tartarsand their guards all went out. His Eminence did not choose to tell mewhere they were bound."

  Simon felt the wind knocked out of him, as if he had been running fulltilt and tripped. He looked at Friar Mathieu, who wore a pained, evensad expression.

  After everything else that had gone wrong, how could de Verceuil takethe Tartars into the streets late at night? They might run afoul ofbravos or some of the wild young men of Orvieto's feuding families. Whywould de Verceuil take such a risk?

  Then Simon understood the reason for Friar Mathieu's look of sadness.Men would leave the Palazzo Monaldeschi at this hour for only onereason--loose women.

  Simon had heard that in the darkest hours a corrupt, secret worldglowed brightly in Orvieto, hidden behind discreet walls. Rumor told ofhigh-ranking churchmen who ventured behind those walls; indeed, it wassaid that the secret world existed because of the patronage of such men.Of course de Verceuil would be a patron of that sinful night world. Andof course he would draw the Tartars into it. Barbarians that they were,they no doubt expected the attentions of harlots as their due.

  _That I am surprised only proves, I suppose, what a bumpkin I am_,thought Simon, annoyed at himself and disgusted with de Verceuil.

  He must pray, he thought with a chill, that the Tartars' guards werewell armed and alert.