The Saracen: The Holy War

by Robert Shea

  LIV

  Daoud suddenly realized that droplets of moisture had appeared on thegrayish-yellow wall near his face. How long the water had been forminghe did not, could not, know. Long enough for some of the droplets tocoalesce and run down the wall, where they joined a line of dampnesswhere the floor met the wall.

  He wondered where the water was coming from. It might be rainingoutside, above this dungeon. It would take, he thought, a very greatrainstorm for the water to seep through down here.

  He lay on his stomach on the rack table, his stretched arms and legsfeeling like blocks of wood. He had no idea how much time had passedsince d'Ucello left him with the threat that when he returned he wouldburn Daoud's manhood away with Greek Fire. Most of that time he had beenawake, but had been dreaming of the paradise of the Hashishiyya.

  Erculio had slept on a pile of rags in a corner of the dungeon, leavingit to the guards to make sure that d'Ucello's order was carried out andDaoud remained awake. The guards were, as Erculio must have known theywould be, halfhearted about carrying out their mandate. They poked andstruck him with sticks at intervals, but they did not try to injure him.Daoud was even able to sleep for brief periods between their proddings.They let most of the candles in the dungeon go out, leaving the greatstone chamber in semidarkness.

  Erculio managed to talk to him when the two guards were dozing. He heldup what looked like a large pearl.

  "There is a swift-acting poison sealed inside this glass ball. When hecomes to burn your prickle off, I will slip it into your mouth. When youfeel the fire, break the ball with your teeth and swallow. It will lookas though the pain killed you. If you can manage it, swallow the glass,too, so they do not find it in your mouth after you're dead."

  So calm did Daoud's Sufi training keep him that he was able to wonderwhere Erculio had got such a thing, and how the poison was sealed insidethe ball, and what kind of poison it was. He could even think calmlyabout what it would feel like when the poison was killing him.

  Erculio was taking a huge chance, he realized. D'Ucello might welldiscover that poison had killed Daoud; the podesta was a very clever andknowledgeable man. And if he did discover the poison, he would, ofcourse, reason that Erculio had done it. In the midst of his calm, Daoudfelt admiration for the little bent man's courage.

  Inevitably with the passing of so many hours, the pain of the cuts andbruises and burns he had already suffered, and the ache of lying in thesame position with his limbs stretched beyond endurance, would at timesbreak through the mental wall he had built up against it. Rememberingthe words of Sheikh Saadi--_If pain comes despite your training, inviteit into your soul's tent as you would a welcome guest_--he allowed thepain to wash over him. And when the first acute shock of it had passed,he was able to restore the wall.

  From time to time he would think of what was soon going to happen tohim. And it would be like a spear of ice driven into his heart. Again,he let himself feel the terror, the anguish, the agonized wondering,_When will he come?_ and then, when his mind was numbed by the horror ofit, cast it out again.

  If he had not had the training of those two great and very differentmasters, Sheikh Saadi and Fayum al-Burz, he would have been mad withterror by now. Each time the door to the dungeon opened, the spear ofice pierced him again. Would it be now that he would lose his manhood inpain beyond imagining, pain so great that he would gladly die at once?

  When no one was nearby, Erculio came close, cursed at him loudly,punched him, and whispered, "He is gone much longer than he said hewould be. It is late afternoon. I told you he does not want to do this."

  _But he will do it_, Daoud thought.

  * * * * *

  Sometime later--Daoud could not tell how long--the door swung open andd'Ucello strode in. Daoud let the cold fear flood into him. He even lethimself whimper a bit. The tide of maddening terror reached its heightand then receded, and he was in command of himself again.

  The two guards snapped to attention, and Erculio scurried over to him.The podesta's face was set, and when he came close to Daoud, there waspain in his eyes.

  "Has he spoken?" he said to Erculio.

  "Not a word, Signore, and I have made him suffer greatly."

  _I shall be leaving this world just moments from now. I will fix mythoughts on God._

  "I gave you more time than I intended to," d'Ucello said to Daoud."There was a small battaglia at a bordello on the east side of town. Aplace you are familiar with. The house run by that fat old whore, TiliaCaballo. Where, according to her testimony, you were when the Frenchcavaliere was murdered outside Cardinal Ugolini's. Your putana friendhas been despoiled, I fear, and many of her menservants killed and herwomen hurt."

  _Rachel._

  He desperately wanted to know whether Rachel had been hurt, and he darednot speak of her to d'Ucello. Anguish for Rachel cracked his armoragainst fear. He saw what was going to happen to him, felt the liquidfire, saw his death. Cold sweat broke out on his body.

  He tried to turn his mind back to Tilia's house.

  _And Tilia, what of Tilia?_

  It surprised him that his anxiety for Tilia was so strong. She had cometo be his friend without his ever realizing it.

  He thought of Francesca, who had comforted him so during his firstmonths in Orvieto. Of the women who had helped him initiate Sordello.All of them no doubt raped, and perhaps hurt in other ways besides.

  _The savages! This would never have happened in El Kahira._

  It was safe enough to ask, "Who did it?"

  "The ambassadors from Tartary and their guards, as they were leavingOrvieto to follow the pope to Perugia. The French Cardinal de Verceuilwas there and, far from trying to prevent the wickedness, urged them on.It seems you dislike the Tartars with good reason."

  The podesta paused. He still hoped, Daoud realized, to provoke or invitehim into letting something slip.

  If it was the Tartars, they must have come for Rachel.

  D'Ucello picked up the flask of Greek Fire from the table, where it hadstood these many hours, where Daoud could plainly see it. He had, mostof the time, avoided looking at it.

  "Were any of the women taken away?" Daoud asked. That, too, should be asafe question. Every moment he and d'Ucello talked, d'Ucello hoping hemight yet learn something, was another moment of wholeness and life.

  _But I must not deceive myself. These are only moments. I affirm thatGod is One. God be merciful. God receive me. I die as Your warrior._

  "Yes," said d'Ucello, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Did you have reason tothink someone would be carried off?"

  It hurt Daoud's neck to turn and try to look into d'Ucello's face. Daoudlet his head fall to the table on which he lay.

  "I visited there often. I made friends with some of the women."

  D'Ucello snorted. "From now on you will have no need to go tobordellos."

  To gain another moment, Daoud said, "I marvel that you possess GreekFire. The making of it is a great secret, and it is too dangerous totransport far. If a bit of it gets loose on a ship, that ship is seen nomore."

  D'Ucello squinted at him. "If you were truly only a trader fromTrebizond, you would be too terrified to wonder where I got this stuff."

  "Allow me at the last a bit of dignity," Daoud pleaded, looking up atd'Ucello. He saw guilt in d'Ucello's shifting eyes.

  "A member of the Knights Templar back from the Holy Land let me copy theformula," said d'Ucello. "Out of curiosity, I had an alchemist make itfor me."

  "Curiosity is a worthier motive than torture," said Daoud, hoping he wasundermining d'Ucello's resolution and making the podesta feel ashamed.

  But the dark eyes flashed angrily. "That is enough. Turn him on hisback, Erculio. You should have done that already."

  _I pushed him too far_, Daoud thought despairingly.

  "Yes, Signore." Erculio beckoned the guards. "Here, you two. Help me."

  When his arms and legs were untied, Daoud groaned at the sudden releaseof the tension in stiff
ened muscles. A savage pain tore through thenumbness in his limbs.

  "Be still, whoreson!" Erculio snarled, clamping a hand over Daoud'smouth. Daoud felt the glass ball pressed against his lips, and openedhis mouth to receive it.

  The ball was not large, about half the size of a pigeon's egg, but itfelt huge in his mouth. Thinking about the swift death it held withinit, Daoud wondered if it would be easy or hard to break the glass.

  They were tying his hands again, and he had the ball under his tongue.If he tried to speak now, d'Ucello would know he had something in hismouth. No more delaying by talking to the podesta.

  "Strip off his loincloth," said d'Ucello, and Erculio tore it away.Holding the flask in one hand, d'Ucello leaned forward, peering atDaoud's groin. Daoud could feel his penis and scrotum shrinking.

  _What fools we men are to be so proud of our members, and think themsuch sources of power. How truly vulnerable is that little bit offlesh._

  One moment he was able to think, the next he was adrift on a sea ofterror. His naked body shook violently as d'Ucello scrutinized him. Hestruggled to keep his Sufi training in mind. Only that could help himnow to die bravely.

  "He is circumcised," said d'Ucello, his black eyebrows twisting in afrown.

  _Oh, God! Cloud his mind._

  "What do we know of that place he comes from?" said Erculio. "Trebizond?Maybe all the men in Trebizond are circumcised."

  "Only Jews are circumcised," said d'Ucello. "And Saracens." He broughthis face closer to Daoud's. "Speak, man. Why is your foreskin cut off?"

  "How could he be a Saracen or a Jew?" said Erculio. "He looks like aFrank."

  "Shut up," said d'Ucello impatiently. "I want to hear his answer."

  Daoud lay motionless, praying that God would let d'Ucello kill him andbe done with it.

  "Are you part of some Jewish plot?" d'Ucello demanded.

  Daoud almost smiled at that, but he only looked up at the blackenedceiling beam and said nothing.

  "Answer me!" d'Ucello growled. He shook the flask at Daoud.

  Daoud closed his eyes. Now the fire would come.

  He heard a hammering at the wooden door on the other side of thedungeon. One of the guards went to open it at d'Ucello's command.

  Another delay! Now he was almost frantic for it to end. He was temptedto bite down on the little glass ball. Why must he wait and wait forthat terrible flame to burn away his life?

  "Signore!" Daoud turned his head and saw the clerk called Vincenzo inthe doorway of the dungeon. Beside him was a man in orange and green,the colors of the Monaldeschi family. Daoud remembered the thick blackbrows and the stern face, the grizzled hair. He had seen this man thenight of the contessa's reception for the Tartars.

  "The Contessa di Monaldeschi's steward brings a message from her,"Vincenzo said.

  With a sigh d'Ucello set the flask of Greek Fire on the table besideDaoud. In the sigh Daoud heard, not impatience, but relief. D'Ucello wasglad to put off doing this unspeakable thing, but it meant only thatDaoud would have to endure a longer wait.

  _Because he does not want to torture me, I suffer the more._

  D'Ucello was still hoping the waiting would break him. And it might. Inspite of all his training, in spite of the Soma that kept him calm andheld the pain away, Daoud felt himself at the very edge of hisendurance. He just might break.

  The podesta, the clerk, and the contessa's steward muttered together bythe door of the dungeon. Turning his head, Daoud could watch them.

  D'Ucello was jabbing his hands furiously toward the steward. He washaving trouble keeping his voice down.

  "This is intolerable!" he cried.

  The steward took a step backward, but he kept his face set. He spoke ina voice too low for Daoud to hear.

  "Fires of hell!" D'Ucello shook both clenched fists over his head.

  He turned and pointed at Daoud. "Keep that one there on the rack till Ireturn, Erculio."

  "Where is my Signore going?"

  D'Ucello opened his mouth. His face grew redder in the torchlight, andhe closed it again.

  "I will not be gone very long," he said. "I have to _persuade_ someoneof something."

  "Shall I torment this fellow while you are gone?"

  "Do as you please. At least see that he gets no rest."

  He strode across the room to glare down at Daoud. "You will keep yourmanhood for another hour or so. By God's grace you have more time tothink. About what will happen to you and how you can save yourself. Donot think you have escaped. I will be back."

  He lifted his hand. A bolt of panic shot through Daoud as he thoughtthat if d'Ucello hit him hard enough he might break the ball of poisonin his mouth. He held himself rigid.

  D'Ucello lowered his hand.

  "Damn you!" he snarled, and turned away.

  Now Daoud wished d'Ucello _had_ broken the glass ball. He would have tolie for hours longer now, waiting for pain and death. The thought ofthose hours was in itself more agonizing than all the tortures he had sofar suffered. But God had chosen to let him live a little longer, and hemust accept these moments of life.

  * * * * *

  "According to Vincenzo," Erculio whispered, "the contessa ordered thepodesta to stop torturing you. Your allies must have gotten to her."

  The guards and the clerk had left, but Daoud heard their excited voicesbeyond the partly open door. Erculio now had a chance to take out thepoison ball. The inside of Daoud's mouth ached from holding the delicateorb, and he sighed with relief.

  "There is more," Erculio said. "An army of Sienese Ghibellini passedthrough Montefiascone this morning. We have known that the Sienese weremarching against Orvieto, but we were not aware they were almost uponus. The contessa and the podesta must discuss the defense as well asyour fate."

  Lorenzo was with that army, Daoud thought. Lorenzo might be able torescue him if he got here in time.

  "I fear it will be no better for you than before," Erculio went on."D'Ucello knows how to make the contessa see things his way. He willprobably persuade her that you must be tortured. And since he suspectsyou of being a Ghibellino agent, he will want you dead before theGhibellini army comes."

  "As God wills," Daoud croaked. A numbness had come over him as if hewere already dead. This was older and simpler and more effective thanthe techniques of Sufi and Hashishiyya. This deadness was his body'sfinal answer to a night and a day of unbearable pain and fear.