Chapter 8
Later, at night around a fire, I muse to myself that I killed the two men and the woman exactly as I had killed them before. The knowledge that their deaths were certain did not affect my actions in the slightest. Not even a single word that was exchanged between us was different. It makes me wonder whose future I'm from.
Dante sits across from me, wrapped in the swords?man's finery. He has washed out Pino's blood. My new friend is busy gloating over a rabbit I caught for him. A stick skewered through it, the meat hangs in the fire growing more tasty by the minute. The drip?ping grease crackles in the flames. Dante licks his dis?eased fingers and his dark eyes shine with joy. He has been muttering prayers to himself since I saved him.
"Tis a wonderful eve, I know," he says. "The light of heaven follows our steps. There can be no other way of explaining how a helpless maid was able to rescue me. "
I laugh. "Dante, please don't call me that. Or I will show you again just how wrong you are. "
He is instantly apologetic. "I meant no offense, my lady. I intended only to praise the grace of God. You are his instrument in this world, I know that in my heart. " He adjusts the rabbit in the fire and licks his cracked lips. "We can eat soon. "
"You can have it all," I say. "I have already eaten today. "
He is offended. "If you will not feed with me, my lady, I myself will go hungry. It is not right that I should keep taking from you. "
I continue to smile. "There is one thing you can give me--information. I have never been in Sicily before. Tell me about this land?"
He brightens. "It is a beautiful land, my lady, filled with sweet orchards and tall trees that cover the hills. You stay around Messina and wander not too far from the well-traveled roads, and you will have a pleasant visit. "
"If I had not been far off the well-traveled roads this evening, I would not have been there to rescue you. But I am curious why you say I should stay close to Messina. Surely the Moslems have not landed on Sicily's southern shores?"
His face darkens. "But they have, my lady. A force of them is camped on the beaches in the southwest. Have you not heard?"
"No. I heard that the Duke of Terra di Labur is strong in the south, with many armed knights. "
Dante trembles. "Do not speak that name, my lady, for he no longer goes by it. He has turned against the Christian God, and has murdered his own knights. It is by his power and with his protection that the heathens have managed to land their forces on Sicily. "
I am surprised, even though I know all these things deep inside. Yet the future becomes more a dream to me with each passing hour. I know it exists, I know I am from there, but I have to focus to maintain this knowledge. Yet this does not worry me. It seems entirely natural that I should be one hundred percent in the present moment, with Dante, and the cooking rabbit, and his stories of the evil duke. But I have spoiled Dante's appetite by asking about the latter. Dante stares miserably at the fire as if he were staring at a picture of hell. He scratches at his lepered arm and leg--my questions bring him pain. Yet I know I must ask all about the political details.
"What does the duke call himself now?" I ask.
Dante shakes his head. "It is better not to repeat it in the night lest he hear us talking of him. For the night is his cloak, and shadows flow around him. "
I laugh again. "Come on, he can't be that bad. I must know his name. "
Dante is adamant. "I am sorry, my lady, I will not talk of him. To do so is a sin to your good company. "
"My good company will not be so good if you do not answer me. What is the Duke's name now?"
Dante speaks in a whisper. "Landulf of Capua. "
I have heard the name before, of course. But now it rings in my ears with less potency and more harmless connotations. Myth surrounds the title, not remem?bered agonies. Yet I know Landulf is the one I have come for--from the stars, for the stars--even if the flames that sparkle before my eyes blot out most of the nighttime sky. I do not want to focus on future facts--it is another choice I make. I am more in?trigued than scared. Capua is tied to Landulf s name because he was originally from there.
"I know this name," I say. "Even in Italy, the farmers in the countryside speak of him. They say he is an evil wizard, capable of performing magical acts. " I pause. "Dante, why are you crying?"
He is really devastated. "It is nothing, my lady. Let us talk of another person. " He pokes at the rabbit with another stick he has found. "Or we can just eat, you can have some meat. You must be hungry after such a long day. "
There is something in his tone that catches my attention. "Do you personally know this Landulf of Capua?" I ask.
He stiffens. "No. "
"You must know him to be so frightened of him. "
He rubs at his leper arm. Actually, the disease has spread so far, he has only a stump left. His left leg is also little more than a stump; he walks with the aid of a wooden brace I found not far from where he was strung up. His sores are open and fluid oozes from them. He must be near death, yet he has energy. But now his strength is in a whirlwind of constant motion. His eyes are moist and he cannot stop shaking.
"I cannot talk about him," he begs. "Please do not force me to say his name. "
"Dante," I say. "Look at me. "
He raises his head. "My lady?"
"Stare deep into my eyes, my dear friend," I say gently, carefully bending his will to mine. "You need not be afraid to speak of this duke. He cannot harm you now. "
Dante blinks and his tears begin to dry. "He cannot harm me," he whispers.
"That is true," I say. "Now tell me about him, how you came to know him. "
Dante sits back and stares at the fire again. He has forgotten the rabbit. He is half in a trance, half in a dream. I know I am asking him to repeat a nightmar?ish section of life. For even though I have calmed him with my power, his withered leg and arm continue to twitch. It is almost as if his leprosy was given to him by the duke, but that I find hard to believe.
Yet I do believe it. I know it.
What do I know? The stars are far away.
Dante's face holds my attention.
"My duke was not merely a duke, but an archbish?op and a special friend of the Holy Father," Dante says, in a clearer voice than usual. "It was to Rome my duke brought me at the age of ten to serve as his personal attendant and to sing in the Vatican choir. The Holy Father said my voice was a sacrament, and I was allowed to join the privileged castrati and sacri?fice my manhood to the Church. This I did not mind, as long as I was allowed to stay close to my duke. For five years I was at peace within the holy walls, and I thought of nothing but my duty and my vows. " He pauses and sighs. Even though he is partly hypno?tized, his pain comes through. "Then, it happened, one terrible day, that my duke was falsely accused. "
"What was he accused of?"
Dante hesitates. "I thought it was a lie. "
"Did the pope accuse him?"
"Yes. The Holy Father himself. "
"Of what?" I repeat.
Dante pauses before he answers. "Of invoking the spirit of Satan. "
I do not believe in such nonsense, nevertheless, his words are chilling. "Was he cast out?" I ask.
Dante coughs. The smoke of the burning logs has entered his lungs. The agony of remembering suffo?cates him, too. "There was a trial," he says. "The cardinals and the Holy Father were present. Accusa?tions were made, then witnesses were called--I had never seen these people before. Each one came forth and stated how my beloved duke had poisoned their minds with demonic spirits. Even I was called to denounce him. The Holy Father made me swear to tell the truth and then--in the same breath--told me to tell lies. " A tear rolls over Dante's ruined face. "I did not know what to say. But I had never seen my duke commit any of these sins. I was afraid but I knew in my heart I could not lie. " A hysterical note enters his voice. "Jesus never lied, even when he stood before his accusers. "
&nb
sp; "Be calm, Dante," I say soothingly. "That was long ago. None of it can hurt you now. Just tell me what happened. "
He relaxes some, but shifts closer to the fire, as if chilled.
"The pope grew angry at me, and accused me of being in league with Satan and my duke. I was chained to my seat and more witnesses were called, more people I had never seen before. These spoke against me as well as my duke, while the cardinals whispered among themselves. I was very afraid. They were talking about burning us. I did not know what to do!"
"Peace, Dante, peace. Continue. "
Dante swallows thickly before continuing. On top of everything else, he seems to have trouble breathing. A frown wrinkles his features and he blinks, trying to remember where he is, or where he has been. Yet his voice remains clear.
"We were led away, my duke and I, and thrown into a stone cell where criminals were normally taken. We spent the night together in that stinking place. My fear was great--I knew we were about to be killed. But my duke acted pleased. He said nothing could harm us, that the Holy Father would be forced to release us. "
"Were you released?" I ask. My knowledge of the inner workings of the Vatican is extensive. No one accused by the pope of consorting with Satan ever survives. Such mercy would set a poor precedent. Yet Dante nods in response to my question.
"The next morning the jailer came and opened our door. There stood the Holy Father. He said the judgment of the holy council was that we were to be let go, but to be banned from the city of Rome. My duke's titles and properties were not confiscated, and I was amazed. My duke knelt and kissed the pope's ring before we were led away, and then he stared into the pope's eyes, and far the first time I saw the Holy Father afraid. " Dante pauses. "I was afraid as well. "
"Of your duke?"
"Yes. "
"Why?"
He gestures with a stump. "Because it was as if a black snake reached out from his eyes and touched the Holy Father between the eyes. A snake the others could not see. "
"But you saw it?" I ask
"Yes. "
"How?"
He speaks with conviction. "It was there!"
"I understand. " I have to calm him again, not allow him to come out of his trance. "What did you and your duke do next?"
"Traveled to Persida. "
The name is not familiar. "Where is that?"
"Not far. "
"Where?"
"Near. Hidden. "
I find it strange he is able to avoid answering me directly, and wonder if powerful hypnotic powers have already been brought to bear on his memory.
"What is special about Persida?" I ask carefully.
He coughs painfully. "It is where magic was first invented. "
"By your duke?"
"Yes. "
"Why did you stay with him in Persida?"
Dante struggles. "I had to. "
"Why?" I insist. "Did he use magic on you?"
He bursts with memories. "Yes! He called forth the great serpent! The living Satan! He invoked it in pain and blood and it poured forth from his navel. I saw it again, the snake--it grew from his intestines and screeched when it saw the light of the world. He poisoned my soul with its filthy powers, and then he poisoned my body. "
"That's when you started to get sick?"
He calms down, so sad. "Yes. In Persida, where magic lived, I began to die. "
"Why did he make you sick?"
"For his pleasure. "
"But you were a loyal subject?"
More tears. "He did not care. It pleased him to see me eaten away. "
I want him to go on. "What did he do next?"
"He went to Kalot Enbolot. That is the door to Sicily. He has a castle there. It was given to him by the Holy Father. He wanted to open the door to the heathens. "
"To let the Moslems overrun the Christian world through Sicily?"
"Yes. "
"And it was there he took up the name Landulf?"
"Lord Landulf of Capua. "
"How did he slay his knights? At the castle?"
"He made them slay one another. The demons summoned by the sacrifices always demand betrayal. "
"You keep saying he invoked demons, that he summoned them. What proof do you have of this other than the snakes you thought you saw?"
"I did see them!"
"Fine. But what was Landulf able to do with these demons?"
"He used them to torture men. To control their wills. " Dante stops and glances away from the fire, into the dark, and his whole body shakes. "Distance does not matter with these demons. They can cross water and bring death. In the fair land of England, my duke boasted, knights in search of the Holy Grail wander lost because of the spells he cast over them. They will never find the Grail, he said. Forever, they will be lost. "
I was familiar with this mystical quest. But it was hard for me to imagine that Landulf had a hand in it. "Why does he bother with these knights?" I ask.
Dante speaks with pride. "Because they are right?eous, and the light of God shines before them. "
"But you say Landulf is stronger than they are?"
Dante hangs his head, as if ashamed. "I am afraid that he is the strongest. "
"But you are a Christian. Your Lord Jesus Christ says no demon can stand before the name of Christ. "
Dante continues, dejected, "Landulf cannot be defeated. "
"Surely he is not all powerful. You escaped from him. How did you manage to do that?"
But Dante shakes his head. "I did not escape. He sent me away. "
"Why?"
Dante looks me straight in the eye, and I believe my power has finally failed. He is no longer in a trance, but he is still frightened, more so than ever--terrified of what he has already told me, what I may do with the knowledge.
"My lady, he told me to find him an immortal ruby beyond all worth. And bring her back to him. "
An immortal ruby? My vampiric blood?
It sounds as if Landulf of Capua already knows about me.
That is fair. I intend to know a lot more about him.
I will go to his castle, I decide.
Dante will lead me to the black wizard.