The Saracen: Land of the Infidel

by Robert Shea

  XXXV

  "Is it not a sin, Father, to explore a man's body like that?"

  "It is considered a crime in many places. But it is not a sin when it isdone with reverence, to discover the truth."

  Watching Friar Mathieu, Simon felt his stomach rebel. The old priestbent over the long naked form of Alain de Pirenne, stretched out onSimon's bed, wielding a freshly sharpened carving knife borrowed fromthe Monaldeschi kitchen. The knife flashed in the light of the manycandles set around the bed as Friar Mathieu enlarged the wound inAlain's belly. Simon kept looking away and then staring back,fascinated.

  "It hurts me to see you treat Alain so," said Simon. "Though I know youmean to do good."

  "My brother Franciscan, Friar Roger of Oxford, says that if you want toknow God, you must look as closely as possible at His works. He saysthat to read the book of God's creation is better than readingphilosophy, and is a form of prayer."

  "Philosophy. Yes," said Simon. "I learned last night that Fra Tomassod'Aquino is an enemy."

  "One moment." Friar Mathieu had tripled the width of the lower wound andwas now pulling the lips of the gash apart, peering intently into it. IfAlain had been alive, Simon knew, blood would have been pouring out ofthat incision.

  Sickened, Simon turned away. He wondered if he could sleep again in thisbed, knowing that Alain's poor naked body had been stretched out there,to be tormented in death by this old Franciscan physician-priest.

  If he abandoned the bed, he would have to give up the room, though, andit was one of the few private rooms in the Monaldeschi palace. It was awarlike room, as befitted a young knight, decorated with batteredMonaldeschi arms. Crossed halberds, spotted with rust, were hung on thestone chimney that ran up from the kitchen on the first floor. Shields,dented and scratched, each almost as tall as a man, faced each otherfrom opposite walls. They were probably quite old, since they boresimple blazons. The one on Simon's right was ocher, with a black chevrondividing it across the middle. The other bore an azure cross against awhite background.

  This being the top floor of the palace, the mullioned window wasspacious, and Friar Mathieu had drawn back the curtains and pulled thetwin window frames inward on their hinges to get more light. Simon wentto the window and looked through the protective iron grill down into thesquare. Two men and three horses were gathered by the steps leading tothe front door. They wore yellow and blue livery, the colors of the cityof Orvieto.

  "I think I have found something," said Friar Mathieu. Just as hefinished speaking, Simon's door shook under a heavy knock.

  "Say nothing," said the Franciscan. "I will tell you later."

  The knock sounded again. Simon went to the door and opened it. A stockyman whose bald head came up to the middle of Simon's chest stood there.Simon observed that the man carried more muscle than fat on his sturdy,barrel-shaped frame. He wore a yellow silk tunic trimmed with blue, anda short sky-blue cape. A bright gold medallion on a gold chain hung fromhis neck. Two daggers, one long and stout, the other short and slender,hung from the right side of his belt. The sword on his left side reachedfrom his waist to his ankle. Simon knew he had seen him before, but hecould not remember where.

  "Your Signory, Count de Gobignon, it is my honor to address you," thestout man said. His words were polite, but his tone was perfunctory. Hehad to tilt his head back to look at Simon, but his voice and expressionmade Simon feel very young and small. Even so, Simon held his silenceand did not step aside to let the man in. Let him introduce himselffirst.

  After a pause, the man said, "Your Signory, I am Frescobaldo d'Ucello,podesta of Orvieto." He stopped, eyeing Simon. He had sparkling blackeyes, and his black mustache was trimmed so that it was no more than athin line above his mouth. Simon remembered now having seen this man,the governor of the city, at the execution of that poor heretic a monthago.

  "Signore Podesta," Simon bowed. "The honor is mine."

  "Not at all, Your Signory." Now the stout man looked past Simon into theroom, and his eyebrows flew up. Simon turned and saw Friar Mathieuanointing Alain's brow with his oil-dipped thumb, forming a cross on thewhite forehead. Most of Alain's body was under an embroidered coverlet,and the kitchen knife had disappeared.

  D'Ucello blessed himself and said in a low voice, "I will examine thebody after the good father is finished with the last rites. Would you beso kind as to step out of the room, Count, so that we can talk?"

  Closing the door behind him, Simon followed d'Ucello through thecorridor out to the colonnaded galleria overlooking the lemon treeswhere he and Sophia had kissed on the night of the contessa's receptionfor the Tartars.

  So long ago that seemed now, though it was little more than a month, andso much tragedy had come of it.

  Simon told d'Ucello the story he had worked out, that he and Alain hadgone to that inn searching for women and had gotten separated.

  There were large bags under the podesta's eyes, dark as bruises. Theycontracted as he listened to Simon.

  "Forgive me, Your Signory, but I must be clear. Are you telling me thatyou slept with a woman last night?"

  Simon tried to look abashed and reluctant to speak. "Yes."

  "And where did this take place, Your Signory?"

  "In my private room at the inn."

  "Who was she?"

  Simon had prepared his answer. "I do not know. A pleasant lady whom Imet in the common room."

  The bags under d'Ucello's eyes twitched. "There are no whores in thatpart of town, Signore. It is one of my duties to see that theprostitutes are limited to a quarter of the city where they will notoffend the holy or the well-born. A cardinal has his residence acrossthe street from where your friend's body was found." D'Ucello's mouthstretched, but neither his eyes nor the dark bulges under them joined inthe smile. "The woman who entertained you must have been an ordinarilyrespectable person who chose to go astray that evening." He paused andlooked grimly up at Simon.

  Simon felt as if a clammy hand had taken him by the back of the neck. Heshould have realized this vaguely imagined woman would not satisfy anydetermined questioner. He struck his fist against his leg. D'Ucello'seyes flickered, and Simon knew he had caught the gesture. He felt as ifa net were slowly being drawn around him, and he resented it. Back homeno mere city governor would dare trouble the Count de Gobignon any morethan he would disturb the king or one of his brothers.

  As d'Ucello continued to stare silently at him, Simon studied thepodesta. This was a man who was jealous of his power, Simon decided. Aman who, despite his politeness, would enjoy embarrassing a youngnobleman.

  "What was the woman's name?" d'Ucello pressed him.

  "I have no idea."

  The thick black eyebrows rose again, wrinkling the balding scalp. "Youspent the entire night with this woman and never called her by name?"

  Simon had been intending to claim that honor forbade him to tell thewoman's name. He felt certain the governor would reject that argument astrivial under the circumstances.

  "We spoke very little. I addressed her with various foolishendearments."

  "Could you describe her?"

  "Most of the time we were in the dark." Simon felt d'Ucello had pressedhim enough. It was time to fight back. "Signore Podesta, my good friendand vassal was murdered in the street, a street supposedly under theprotection of your watch. I fail to see how it helps you to do your dutyof finding his killer by questioning me as if I were a criminal."

  The podesta's brows drew together, and he took a few steps backward,diminishing the importance of the difference in height between him andSimon.

  "Your Signory, I have questioned everyone who lives in thatneighborhood, and everyone I could find who was passing through it lastnight," he said. "I learned from the innkeeper at the Vesuvio that yourfriend slept alone last night. I know that you did not meet anyone inthe inn, woman or man. You stopped there briefly, left your friend, andwent somewhere else. You did not engage a private room for yourself. Theinnkeeper and several other people agree to that. Will Your S
ignory begood enough to tell me where you did go?"

  Simon heard with dismay the weakness in his tone and was appalled at howeasily d'Ucello had exposed his lies. "Those you spoke to about what Idid must have been mistaken," he said. "Perhaps they did not notice myreturn to the inn." An inspiration struck him. "They may be trying toprotect the woman I was with."

  D'Ucello smiled thinly. "I see. Then you are telling me that you hadcarnal relations with this woman while your good friend and vassallooked on."

  Simon was momentarily at a loss for words. It would have delighted himto reply by running d'Ucello through.

  They stood bristling at each other like two hostile hounds when Simonheard a door open. A moment later, to his enormous relief, Friar Mathieujoined them by the marble railing overlooking the atrium.

  "If you wish to examine young Sire de Pirenne's body, he lies in CountSimon's room waiting for you, Signore," said Friar Mathieu. "This is avery sad day for us."

  With a black look at Simon, d'Ucello bowed to the old priest and leftthe galleria.

  When they were alone, Friar Mathieu grunted. "A good thing I merelyextended the wounds Sire Alain had already suffered. The podesta mightwell bring charges against me for desecrating a corpse if he saw I hadmade incisions in the body."

  "Did you learn anything?" Simon asked.

  "I am convinced that Sire Alain was not merely stabbed to death."

  "What do you mean?" Simon was eager to get Friar Mathieu's advice on howto handle the podesta, but this was more important.

  "When I looked closely at the wound in his stomach, I discovered that itwas two wounds," said Friar Mathieu. "He was punctured there by a thin,round object, like a large needle. Then he was stabbed through theheart, and blood poured out of him. And then the killer stabbed him inthe belly to try to mask the dart wound."

  "How do you know that?"

  "The belly wound did not bleed much, so the heart wound must havepreceded it. When the killer drove his knife into the puncture in thebelly, it did not go in exactly the same direction. The smaller woundgoes upward at a slight angle, as if the needle were driven in from thelevel of the killer's waist. The knife wound goes straight in. I had todig below the skin and ribs to discover the needle wound."

  "A needle could not have killed Alain."

  "It could have been a poisoned dart. Alain's lips are blue. That issometimes a sign of poison."

  Simon heard a clumping of boots in the corridor. He hurried in from thegalleria to find Cardinal Paulus de Verceuil, accompanied by twoblack-robed priests, striding toward the room where Alain lay.

  "Now one of your knights has been killed!" de Verceuil boomed. He wasdressed in a dark cerise tunic with particolored hose and forest-greenboots with pointed toes. The only indications of his ecclesiasticaloffice were the absence of a sword and the presence of the large jeweledcross hanging from his neck. A purple velvet cap adorned with a blackfeather was draped over his glossy black hair.

  Simon told the cardinal he and Alain had been out late and had decidedto stay at an inn rather than cross town during the dangerous nighthours. Friar Mathieu came and stood beside him, greeting the two priestswho had accompanied de Verceuil. They loftily eyed the old Franciscan'sbrown robe and responded with curt nods.

  When Simon finished his recital, de Verceuil leaned forward, his smalllower lip outthrust. "If you cannot protect your own knights, how canyou protect the emissaries from Tartary?"

  That was not a question but an assault, Simon decided, and required noanswer. "We are doing everything we can to find his killer, YourEminence."

  "By God's footprints, I wish this were my bishopric!" de Verceuilexclaimed. "I would take a dozen men from that neighborhood and I wouldhang one man a day until the killer was found. I would have the man."

  The door to the room where Alain lay swung open, and the stout podestaemerged. He stood silently glowering up at de Verceuil. Simon wonderedwhether d'Ucello had learned anything from looking at poor Alain'scorpse.

  "And what, Your Eminence, if the people of that neighborhood truly donot know who killed the Sire de Pirenne?" said Friar Mathieu.

  Until that moment Simon had assumed Alain had met his death at the handsof some Orvietan cutthroat. If not such a one, then who? He rememberedGiancarlo and the bravos he had met on the road. Alain's money had beentaken, but not his weapons. And Giancarlo served David of Trebizond, andDavid served Ugolini. Was this Ugolini's way of protecting his niece'shonor?

  If Giancarlo had anything to do with it, Sordello ought to be able tofind out.

  "If we arrested all the men who live on the street where he was killed,"said de Verceuil, "more than likely among them would be the man who didit. These Italians--shopkeepers by day and robbers by night."

  The faces of the two priests with him tightened. Simon glanced atd'Ucello, and saw a flush darkening his brown cheeks.

  "The people of that street are among the most respectable in Orvieto,Signore," the podesta growled. How delightful, Simon thought, if theodious de Verceuil and the odious d'Ucello were to tear into each other.

  De Verceuil stared at the podesta in amazement and wrath, while the twopriests turned their heads from one to the other in embarrassment. Aftera moment, one priest murmured de Verceuil's identity to d'Ucello, whilethe other softly told the cardinal who the podesta was.

  "Forgive me, Your Eminence, if my tone was less respectful than youdeserve," said d'Ucello, bowing to kiss de Verceuil's haughtily extendedsapphire ring.

  "I have encountered nothing but disrespect from Orvietans since I camehere," said the cardinal, and Simon remembered that vile smear of dungon his cheek the day they arrived. "I had actually thought Orvieto hadno governor."

  "Forgive me again that I did not pay my respects to you before," saidd'Ucello. He did not rise to the bait, Simon noticed. An intelligentman.

  "A French knight has been murdered in your city, Podesta," de Verceuilsaid. "Regardless of your high opinion of the people of the quarterwhere it happened, I expect you to press them hard until you find thekiller. A thing like this cannot happen without someone seeing somethingor hearing something."

  That reminded Simon that no one had come forward to claim the reward hehad offered. If someone had heard or seen something, that person wasdoubtless too frightened to speak of it.

  "Your Eminence gives me most valuable advice," said d'Ucello. "I promiseyou, we shall not rest until the killer is found." His round body bobbedforward in a bow, and he turned on his heel, sword and daggers swinging,and marched away.

  "Pompous little man," said de Verceuil. "And doubtless incompetent andtreacherous."

  The cardinal turned to Simon now. "Do not leave it to that watchcommander to find the killer. The knight--what was his name?" Simon toldhim. "De Pirenne was your man, and you are responsible for his death.Put all the men under you to work hunting down the murderer. Do whateverhas to be done. We must not let the death of a French knight gounavenged."

  "As Your Eminence wills, so I will," said Simon.

  De Verceuil raised a finger. "And we will have a splendid funeral. Thepope himself will be present. Let the grandeur of the ceremony show thatwe French do not take the death of one of our number lightly. Let thesesneaking Italians tremble before our wrath."

  Again the two priests looked at each other, and one of them shruggedresignedly.

  _What barbarians we must seem to them._ Simon's face grew hot withembarrassment.