The Saracen: Land of the Infidel

by Robert Shea

  XXXIII

  A hand shook Simon's shoulder. His whole right side ached. He foughtwakefulness, trying to plunge deeper into sleep. He was in a cool bluelake surrounded by dark masses of spruce. He had just seen a wolf with asilver-white coat drinking from the lake on the opposite shore and hewas trying to swim to it.

  "Simon. You must wake up."

  He opened his eyes. Right before his face was a twisting streak oforange against a royal blue background, and he realized he was lying onhis side on the Persian carpet in Sophia's bedchamber. He rolled over onhis back and rubbed his aching side. He saw Sophia's face just abovehim.

  He could not help himself. He reached up with both arms and pulled herdown to him and kissed her. Her lips felt cool and dry, and he had asudden fear that his breath must be sour from sleep. She pushed herselfaway from him and he did not try to hold her.

  "There is light coming through the window, and I hear birds singing,"she said. "You must go now. Many of my uncle's servants get up at dawn."

  He sat up. She was kneeling beside him, still wearing the samecream-colored gown. He remembered now that they had talked of courtlylove, and a little about her childhood in Sicily. To his disappointment,she had not said that she loved him.

  The necessities of nature had forced on them an intimacy of onesort--while each had pretended not to notice, the other had used thechamber pot discreetly placed behind the red and green diamonds of ascreen.

  She had been the first to fall asleep. Sleep had overtaken him, too, buteach time he dozed off he started to topple off the small straight chairhe was sitting on. The fourth or fifth time this had happened he gave upsitting and stretched out on the carpet.

  "Quickly, Simon, please. If my uncle ever finds out you were here, hewill send me back to Siracusa."

  _God forfend!_ The habits of his knightly training took over, and hestrode quickly to the corner, where he had left his sword and beltleaning against the wall, and buckled them on.

  He remembered that Alain was supposed to sing an aubade, a dawn song, inthe street below to warn and rouse him. An old troubadour custom.Perhaps he had sung, and Simon, sleeping so soundly, had not heard.

  "Did you hear anyone singing out in the street?" he asked.

  Sophia smiled and shook her head.

  _Blast Alain. He must have overslept, too._

  Sophia said, "But how will you get out of here? It is not as easy toclimb up to the roof as it is to climb down from it."

  Simon went to the window and pushed the curtain aside. The rope he hadclimbed down on was still dangling from above. He gave it a hard pull,and it held firm. He looked up at the sky. It was a deep violet withonly a few faint stars and one brightly shining planet.

  _The morning star might be Venus, a good omen for a lover._

  His heart was light, even though he was leaving Sophia. It had been abeautiful night.

  A half-filled cup of wine stood on the table by her bed. He swigged itto rinse his mouth, swallowed, then wiped his lips with the back of hishand. He tried to think of some parting word worthy of a troubadour, butnone occurred to him.

  She stood by the bed, her eyes warm. He held out his arms and sheslipped into them with as much ease as if they had been lovers foryears. She was so much shorter than he that he had to lean down to kissher, and as he did she arched her body against him.

  "I love you," he whispered, embarrassed by its prosaic simplicity. Butit was simple truth.

  "And I love you." She kissed him quickly on the lips and turned away.

  Her words stunned him. He felt for a moment as if he were going to falldead on the spot. And that if he did, it would be a perfect moment todie.

  The candles were almost burned to the bottom. He looked over at thepainting of Saint Simon Stylites, whose blue eyes seemed to gleam out athim from the shadows.

  He wrapped the rope around both arms, gave it another yank to be sure itwas tied tightly above, and stepped up on the windowsill. He swungaround so that he was facing the wall of the mansion and began to climb,his joy at her parting words making him feel stronger and more agile.His hands gripped the rough rope; his feet in calfskin boots pressedagainst the wall, pointed toes seeking out cracks. He did not look atthe stone-paved street three stories below.

  He heard voices in the street--and froze. There were men gathered downthere. If they looked up, they would see him climbing up the front ofthe cardinal's mansion.

  _Move quickly_, he told himself. He scrambled up to the square Guelfomerlon around which his rope was tied, pulled himself over the parapet,and dropped with relief to the flagstones of the flat roof.

  He untied the rope. Curiosity made him want to look at the men whoseraised voices he heard coming from across the street. Something haddisturbed them. But he had the feeling that if he did not look at them,they would not see him.

  _Hurry._ Holding the loosely coiled rope in one gloved hand, he ran aslightly as he could so as not to disturb anyone in the rooms below him.

  He came to the back of the building, where, two stories below him, acrenelated lower wall protecting the courtyard joined the main building.He uncoiled the rope, found its center, and doubled the line around anangled merlon at the corner of the roof battlements so that both halvesdangled down just above the courtyard wall. Then, gripping the doubledrope, he swung himself out and began to climb down.

  A thunderous roar battered at his ears. He saw in the courtyard a biggray hound racing over the paving stones twice as fast as any man couldrun. It kept up a furious, enraged barking in a deep, bone-chillingvoice. In an instant the dog was below him. Its bellowing was sure torouse the cardinal's guards. Its huge, pointed white teeth glistened;its tail lashed from side to side.

  _If I fell, that damned dog would eat me alive._

  He remembered seeing the dog before with Giancarlo, David of Trebizond'sservant. It had been friendly enough that day. But now it saw him as anintruder.

  _Giancarlo called it by name. What the devil was it? If I could speakits name, maybe I could get it to shut up._

  Simon stood on the courtyard wall, thankful that it was too high for thedog to reach him. The hound sprang at the top of the wall, at the sametime emitting a bark so loud it almost knocked Simon off his perch.

  Simon pulled on one end of the rope, and it snaked around the merlon andcame rippling down to him. To his horror, one end fell past him into thecourtyard.

  In an instant those great ivory fangs had sunk into the braided hemp.Simon yanked on the rope, but there was no tearing it loose. Hoping tocatch the dog by surprise, Simon gave the rope some slack and thenjerked with all his might, but succeeded only in dragging the beast afoot or so, claws scraping on cobblestones. At least the animal couldnot bite the rope and bark at the same time. Enraged, muffled growlsissued around its clenched teeth. It snapped its head from side to side,trying to tear the rope out of Simon's hands.

  He cut part of the rope away with his dagger, letting the end the dogheld fall into the courtyard. Even as he was coiling up the rest of therope, the beast gave a howl of fury and with a tremendous leap washalfway up the wall.

  The remaining rope tied to his belt, Simon hung by his hands on theoutside of the wall and let himself drop, hitting the stone street witha thud that sent jolts of pain through his shinbones. He heard shouts onthe other side of the wall mingling with the roars of the hound.

  Limping a little at first from the force of the drop, he staggered intothe nearest side street. He would have to circle back to the avenue thatran in front of the cardinal's palace, approaching it from anotherdirection.

  It seemed to take hours for him to find his way through the snake's nestof byways. But he felt not the least bit disturbed. It did not matter.Nothing mattered, because Sophia's parting words to him had been _And Ilove you_. He felt like dancing through the crooked streets.

  By the time he emerged near the east side of the cardinal's palace, hecould see quite clearly. There was no sun, though. The morning was dampand gray. He would have
to cross the avenue and walk back past thecardinal's mansion to find the inn he and Alain had picked for theirrendezvous. It must be near where that crowd of men had formed a circlearound something.

  "Are you the watch, Messere?" a man said, coming up to him as heapproached the crowd.

  "I am not," said Simon with a slight haughtiness, and the man fell back,eyeing Simon's rich clothing, sword and dagger.

  "Scusi, Signore."

  _I really should not let myself be seen around here._

  With deference to Simon's dress and manner, the crowd parted for himwhen he joined them to see what they were looking at.

  It was the body of a dead man.

  It was Alain.

  Simon staggered back, feeling as if he had been struck in the heart by amailed fist.

  "No!" he cried.

  "Do you know this man, Signore?" someone asked him.

  Simon did not answer. He fell to his knees beside Alain, horrified bythe face so white it seemed carved from marble. He saw now the greatbloodstain down the front of Alain's pale green tunic. Flies withgleaming blue-green bodies were humming above the bloodstain, settlingdown again after Simon's arrival disturbed them.

  He raised his head, and through the tears that clouded his vision herecognized a face. Last night's innkeeper. A short, balding man withlarge eyes and a generous nose.

  "We have sent for the watch, Your Signory," said the man.

  "Did anyone see or hear anything?"

  "My wife heard your friend go out before dawn. He never came back."

  _Jesus, have mercy on me_, thought Simon. _This is my fault. He went outto await the dawn so he could warn me. And someone killed him._ Tearswere pouring from his eyes. He was sobbing convulsively.

  "Poverello," he heard someone mutter sympathetically. Here he was aknight, a count, kneeling in the street weeping in front of a crowd ofstrangers. He did not care.

  Guilt crushed him. He wanted to lie beside his friend's body and be deadwith him. But how could he? No, he had to find and kill Alain'smurderer.

  Still kneeling beside Alain, he wiped his face with the edge of his capeand surveyed the crowd. To keep his identity a secret seemed unimportantnow.

  "I am the Count de Gobignon of France. I will pay handsomely anyone whohelps me find the man who did this. If anyone can name the murderer, Iwill pay"--he thought a moment--"a thousand florins."

  A murmuring ran through the crowd. A fortune! Foolish, perhaps, Simonthought, to offer such a reward. A man would accuse his own brother toget that much money.

  _I may hear many names. I will have to be sure._

  He looked down at poor Alain. The flies were crawling on his face, andhe brushed them away. Alain's lips had turned blue. He looked forAlain's purse and saw none on his belt.

  Stabbed to death for the few coins he carried. Dead at twenty years ofage. Tears overflowed his eyes again.

  Oddly, Alain still wore his sword and dagger.

  Alain's weapons were still both sheathed. Whoever had stabbed him hadnot given him time to defend himself. Yet, there were no recesseddoorways or alley openings where an armed robber might hide himself.

  The spot was unpleasantly familiar. This was where Simon's archers, atde Verceuil's orders, had shot two Orvietans.

  Had Alain been tricked by someone pretending to be a friend? Was thekiller someone Alain knew?

  _Ah, my poor friend, what a shame it is when a young knight dies withoutsword in hand._ Simon clenched his fist, the tears falling unceasingly._By the wounds in Christ's body I swear I will avenge the wounds thatkilled you, Alain._

  Simon remembered now that the watch was on the way. When they got herethey would ask him questions about what he and Alain were doing here,questions he did not want to answer until he had time to think.

  _A scandal would give de Verceuil a chance to eat me alive. And I mustget Friar Mathieu to help me._

  "Send someone to the Palazzo Monaldeschi for my horse," he said to theinnkeeper, standing suddenly.

  "As you wish, Your Signory." The innkeeper hurried off.

  Simon swept the crowd with his gaze. "Remember, all of you. Anyone whosaw anything, heard anything. You will be paid. Come to the PalazzoMonaldeschi."

  Simon sat down on the stone street to wait for the horse. Silently thecrowd that had gathered waited with him.

  When the innkeeper's servant brought the horse, Simon lifted Alain'sbody with the help of two other men and lashed it securely facedown overhis horse's back with the rope he had used to climb to Sophia's room.

  _Sophia._ He had been so happy just moments ago because she said sheloved him as they parted. Was she looking down now, seeing this pitifulsight?

  Fresh sobs forced their way into his throat, and he leaned against hishorse, covering his face with his arms.

  _I have to get away from here quickly._

  He forced himself to stop crying and took hold of the reins. TheOrvietans fell back as he led the horse up the street leading northwardto the Monaldeschi palace. He felt warmth on his neck and looked up tosee the sun through a break in the clouds.

  Alain would never see the sun again.

  _Whoever did this to you, Alain, I will not rest until I have killed himwith my own hands._