LXIV
On a dais high above Simon, on a gilded throne under a cloth-of-goldcanopy, Charles d'Anjou sat, wearing the crown studded with rubies,emeralds, and sapphires placed on his head by Cardinal Paulus deVerceuil, as legate for Pope Clement, a few hours ago. Simon stood belowhim in a half-circle of Roman nobles and Charles's commanders. TheTartars and Friar Mathieu were beside Simon.
Behind them, the great hall of the Palazzo Laterano, Roman residence ofthe pope, was packed with French seigneurs and knights and the popologrosso of Rome. The hall was stifling, and Simon felt sweat tricklinginside his tunic. Even in early May Rome was already too hot to live in.He wondered how Anjou and his army would manage to survive the summerhere.
Anjou beckoned to Gautier du Mont, who swept his cap from hisbowl-shaped head of hair and hurried up the dozen steps, a sword thatreached to his ankle swinging at his side.
Simon felt a hollow in his stomach large enough to hold all of Rome.Soon Charles would call him up to the throne, and he would have to givehim an answer. A month ago in Viterbo he had been determined to bringthe Gobignon army to Italy. In the intervening days, doubts hadunsettled him. Did he really dare to commit the fighting men of hisdomain to the war? Each time he tried to decide, his mind gave adifferent answer, like dice endlessly tossed. His head ached and hiseyes burned from lying awake all last night after his arrival in Romejust in time for the coronation.
Over and over again he heard what Friar Mathieu had said: _Not so longago you even doubted your right to be Count de Gobignon. And are you nowready to lead the men of Gobignon to bloodshed and--for many ofthem--death?_
Du Mont had finished his conversation with Charles and, with repeatedbows, was descending from the dais with his face toward the throne andhis hindquarters to the gathering. Now that Anjou was a king, one didnot turn one's back on him. A far cry from du Mont's behavior towardCharles of only a few months earlier, and another mark of Charles'sincreased stature since his arrival at the gates of Rome. Still, he hadbeen required to compromise on his coronation. He had been crowned inRome as he wanted, but not by the pope. Only de Verceuil, who felthimself exalted by the occasion, was perfectly happy with thatarrangement.
As du Mont rejoined the crowd at the base of the throne, Simon's eye wasdrawn to the red silk cross sewn on his blue tunic. After thecoronation, the pope's proclamation of a crusade against Manfred hadbeen read. Charles's men must have had their crosses sewn on inanticipation.
Men like du Mont, von Regensburg, and FitzTrinian were now holywarriors, all of whose past sins were forgiven. If any of Charles'sfollowers should die in battle, they would go straight to heaven.
Having seen those cutthroats in action, Simon thought their new state ofholiness absurd. But now that Pope Clement had declared the war againstManfred a crusade, it would be so much easier to recruit an army fromGobignon.
Simon wore no cross, an outward sign of his indecision.
An equerry in red and black whispered to Friar Mathieu, who turned andspoke to the Tartars. John and Philip ceremoniously unbuckled theirjeweled belts and draped them over their necks. As the bowlegged littlemen started up the steps, Simon heard snickers from among Charles'sofficers at this Tartar gesture of submission. The more fools they, hethought, to laugh at the customs of men who had conquered half theearth. Friar Mathieu followed the Tartars, holding the equerry's arm.
Innumerable conversations, echoing against the vaulted ceiling of thegreat Lateran hall, battered on Simon's ears. To his right he heardCardinal de Verceuil's deep booming. Unwillingly, he turned, and saw thecardinal's wide-brimmed red hat, its heavy tassels swinging, risingabove the crowd as did the voice coming from beneath it. De Verceuil washappy to dress like a cardinal today, since he was taking the place ofthe pope. Simon knew he would soon be trading his scarlet regalia formail. Eager to share in the spoils of Manfred's kingdom, he was goingback to France to raise an army from his fiefs and benefices scatteredaround the country.
Simon saw several other cardinals' hats here and there in the crowd. Hewondered if any of the Italian cardinals supported Charles's adventure.
None of them disapproved openly, that was certain. Only Ugolini hadprotested, and his form of protest had been flight. Enough to cost himhis red hat. By papal decree Adelberto Ugolini was no longercardinal-bishop of Palermo. Simon had sought out priests and merchantstraveling from southern Italy, asking them what had become of Ugolini.But news from the south was sparse these days, and news of Ugolininonexistent.
Simon had spoken in Viterbo to a pair of Dominican friars recently comefrom Palermo. They had known Ugolini before he became a cardinal, butdid not remember that he had any sisters, much less a niece. They hadnever heard of a Siracusa family called Orfali. Simon raged at hisinability to learn anything at all about Sophia. It was as if she hadfallen into a black pit.
John and Philip were kneeling before Charles at the top of the steps.Friar Mathieu stood beside the Tartars, interpreting for them and forKing Charles. Charles was talking loudly enough for Simon to hear. Likemany men, he tended to raise his voice when addressing those who did notspeak his language.
"You must tell the great Abagha Khan that it is customary for rulers tosend gifts to newly made kings. Tell him we look forward with delight tothe wonderful things he will send us from the Orient."
More useful, in Simon's opinion, would be a detailed proposal from thelate Hulagu Khan's son on how and when Christians and Tartars shouldlaunch their war on the Saracens. Stories had come from the East thatHulagu Khan's frustration over his failure to conquer the Mamelukes hadhastened his death.
As he waited to climb the stairs and kneel before the new king, Simonreminded himself that he could still refuse to join Charles's war onManfred.
He became aware of the dull pain around his heart that had been with himever since he discovered that Sophia had vanished. Even when he forgotthe suffering, it weighed down his footsteps and bowed his shoulders.
_And the worst of it is that I would rather live perpetually with thismisery than stop loving Sophia._
But how could he go on loving her if she had been his enemy all along?
Was there any such person as Sophia Orfali? All the time he was courtingher, she could have been working against the alliance. She might evenhave known the man in black who had nearly killed him.
That thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, he wasblind to the sights around him, deaf to the sounds.
_No! It cannot be!_
If she really had been that evil, it could be only because she had beencorrupted by living in Manfred's kingdom. He remembered the words of deVerceuil's sermon this morning at Count Charles's coronation.
_The Hohenstaufens, that brood of vipers, have too long vexed HolyChurch, persecuting pope after pope. May it please God that the bastardManfred be the last of them. May we see the destruction of that familyof blasphemers and infidels, secretly in league with the Saracens. Wedeclare Manfred von Hohenstaufen anathema and outlaw. Blessed be thehand that strikes him down._
If it was Manfred who had turned Sophia into a tool of the infidels,then how right that Simon's hand be the one to strike Manfred down.
Now, bowing, the Tartars were carefully backing down from the royalpresence. Friar Mathieu turned and teetered precariously at the top ofthe steps. Charles, seeming not to understand the Franciscan'sinfirmity, stared at him without moving from his seat. The equerry whohad helped him climb made a move toward him, but Simon was already upthe steps and gripping the old Franciscan's arm.
"Thank you, Simon." Friar Mathieu turned to Charles. "Sire, I hope youwill forgive the sight of this old man's back. I am afraid my legs lackthe power to climb downstairs backward."
"To be sure, Father, to be sure." Charles waved a hand in dismissal.
If King Louis were on that throne, Simon thought, he would probably havelifted Friar Mathieu in his own arms and carried him down. Simon sowished it were Louis, rather than Charles, he was serving. But perhapsby servi
ng Charles he was serving Louis.
Perhaps.
Simon and Friar Mathieu descended a step at a time. Friar Mathieu wasleaning on Simon, but he seemed to weigh nothing.
"Count Simon," Charles called when Simon reached the bottom. "I wouldspeak with you next."
When Simon mounted the dais, Charles ordered his herald in red and blackto call for silence.
"All honor to Simon, Count de Gobignon!" Charles called from the thronewhen he had the attention of the assembly. "For nearly two years he hasguarded the ambassadors from Tartary. He has risked his very life inbattle for them. His sagacity and bravery have brought new glory to hisancient name."
Simon felt dizzy with exaltation. He had not expected this, from thenewly crowned king. His face burned. At a gesture from Charles, heturned to face the crowd. The gathering in the great hall of the Lateranwas a multicolored, murmuring blur. The dais on which he stood seemedsuddenly turned into a mountaintop.
"Now," Charles went on, "Count Simon and his vassals join us as alliesin battle against the godless Manfred. May the deeds he has yet to dobring even more renown to the house of Gobignon. I guarantee you,Messeigneurs, the day will come when Simon de Gobignon will be known asone of Christendom's greatest knights."
Simon's bedazzlement at Charles's tribute to him turned in an instant toanger. By publicly announcing a decision Simon had not yet made, Charleswas trying to force him to commit himself to the crusade. For a momentSimon was tempted to tell Charles that he would crusade at his side whenthe Middle Sea froze over.
But as he stood looking down at Charles's barons and the nobles of Rome,half turned toward Charles, half turned toward the assembly, theclapping and cheering were overwhelming him. His eye was drawn by a redhat above the rest of the crowd, and he was delighted to see that deVerceuil's face seemed a deeper red than his vestments.
Simon's anger at Charles faded as the moment lifted him up in spite ofhimself.
He who had dwelt in the shadow of treason all his life, who had hiddenhimself, when in great assemblies, for fear he would be noticed andtreated with scorn, now honored by this multitude in the capital ofChristendom in the age-old palace of the popes!
Was it not to achieve this that he had come to Italy?
_If only Sophia could see._
He did what he felt was required, and knelt before Charles, taking thenew king's extended hand and kissing a huge ruby ring.
In a low voice Charles said, "I have prayed that I would have your help,Simon. Can you not tell me that my prayer has been answered?"
If he refused Charles and went back to Gobignon, he would never seeSophia again. And he would probably never again know a moment like this,when he felt so _right_ as the Count de Gobignon.
But he was still offended by Charles's claiming a commitment that Simonhad not given him.
"It seems you already know your prayer has been answered, Sire."
Charles frowned for a moment, then smiled and patted Simon on theshoulder. "Forgive me. I want so much for you to join me that I spoke asif it were already true. Will you make it true?"
He looked up into Charles's large, compelling eyes and nodded slowly.
"I will come after the harvest is in, Sire. I will come with my army."
* * * * *
Rachel slid from the bed, trying to shake it as little as possible so asnot to wake John. Letting her robe of yellow silk flutter loosely abouther nude body, she hurried behind the screen that hid her commode andopened the chest that held her most private belongings. She took out thedevice of bladder and tubing Tilia had given her long ago, and with apitcherful of lukewarm water washed John's seed out of herself quickly.Over the year and more that she had been with John, she had never lethim see her using the thing. Men such as John, she knew, took pride intheir power to get a woman with child.
She was fourteen now, and her breasts were filling out. Many women hadbabies at fourteen. She would have to be more careful than ever. Shestretched her mouth in a grimace at the thought of a baby that lookedlike John.
As usual, she had endured, not enjoyed, the Tartar's mating. Anotherchange she had noticed in herself, though, was that she had begun tounderstand how women could feel pleasure with a man. Several times sincelast spring a yellow-haired man had appeared naked before her in herdreams, and had lain with her. When she woke she could not remember theman's face, but she still felt the exquisite sensations his body gaveher, and she sometimes had to caress herself until a surge of pleasurerelieved the yearning stirred up by her dream.
Other times, when John came to her late at night and she was verysleepy, she closed her eyes and was able to imagine that theyellow-haired man was with her, and then she actually enjoyed John'sattentions, which pleased him very much.
She tied the robe's sash and went to the window. The breeze from thewest was strong and salt-smelling, and she was thankful that she washere, in a villa by the sea, and not in Rome. August, they said, killedone out of every three people in Rome. She sat on the wide sill andlooked out. She did not lean out too far; she was four stories up,overlooking jagged boulders piled along the shore.
Afternoon sunlight sparkled on the Tyrrhenean Sea, and a flash of sun onthe helmet of a guard patrolling the beach caught her eye. One ofSordello's Venetians, she thought, judging by his bowl-shaped helmet andthe crossbow he carried. The men-at-arms of the Orsini family, who hadlent this villa to the French party, wore helmets shaped to the head,with crests on top.
She heard the bed creaking behind her, and the Tartar groaned.
"Pour me another cup of wine, Reicho," he called.
"You have had three cups already, Usun," she said, but obediently wentto the table and poured red wine from a flagon into his silver cup.
He had taught her his original Tartar name, Usun, and he liked to hearher say it. With the help of Friar Mathieu and Ana the Bulgarian, shehad learned to understand and speak his language fairly well. She knewnow that "Tartar" was merely a European word for his people, that theycalled themselves "Mongols."
He pulled his silk trousers up and knotted the drawstring. His belly hadbeen flat when she first met him. Now it was swollen as if _he_ werehaving a baby, and excess flesh sagged on his shoulders and chest. Hisdecline was partly from too much wine and partly from too littleactivity. She rarely saw John without a wine cup in his hand, and byevening he was often surly or in a stupor. He talked to her less, andwas less often able to couple with her. If he spent many more monthslike this, he would sicken and die like a wild bird kept in a cage.
"I had _six_ cups this morning before I came to you," he boasted. "Winemakes me strong." He drank off half his cup and set it on the marbletable.
She sat beside him on the rumpled bed. "You need to get out, Usun. Goriding."
He shrugged. "Too hot." He grinned, stroking his white beard. "But nextyear we will ride to war."
"Next year?"
"King Charr has promised to let me and Nikpai--Philip--ride to war withhim when he attacks Manfred."
In her anxiety she seized John's arm--she rarely touched him--and said,"You must insist that your guardians let you go out riding regularly.And you must stop drinking so much wine. Otherwise you will be verysick."
His black eyes were wider and moister than usual. "You worry about me,Reicho?"
She took her hand from his arm. "I don't want to see you die," she said.She did not know why she felt that way. After all, he had enslaved her,and every time he possessed her body it was virtually rape. And if hedied, she might be free. But, she supposed, she had gotten to know himso well that she felt sorry for him.
She did not like to hear about this war against King Manfred. FriarMathieu had told her gently that her lost friends, Sophia, David, andthe others, were very likely all spies for Manfred. If Sophia were inKing Manfred's employ, that made no difference to Rachel. From all shehad heard, Jews were better treated in Manfred's kingdom than anywhereelse in Italy. The French, on the other hand, were often cruel
to Jews.It would bring sorrow and suffering to many people if Charles d'Anjouconquered southern Italy and Sicily.
She wished she could be with Sophia. But Sophia was probably in Sicily,and how could Rachel, all alone, cross half of Italy to find her?
The locked box she kept under the bed, which held all the gold andjewelry Usun had given her, was far too big and heavy for her to carry.And even if she could escape and take it away with her, she could notprotect herself from robbery. But it would be the worst sort ofstupidity to leave without it. It was all she had from these awfulyears. It was less like a treasure, though, than like a block of stoneto which she was chained.
If she were ever to escape, she would first have to get away from theguards, the Armenians and the Venetians, all of whom had orders to watchher and make sure she did not run away. That Sordello, the capitano ofthe Venetians, seemed to have his eyes on her whenever she went out ofher room.
She was alone in the world. Nowhere to go. There were moments when shefelt so lost and unhappy she wanted to climb out the open window of herroom and throw herself down to the rocks.
"Maybe next year, when King Charr goes to war, I will not be here," Usunsaid suddenly.
"You must wish you could be back with your own people," she said.
_If I am lonely, think how he must feel. Except for Philip, there is noone like him anywhere in this part of the world. Only a few people speakhis language. Everything looks strange to him._
"We are waiting for orders from our new master, Abagha Khan," said Usun."Another letter must come soon. It is now six months since his fatherdied."
Rachel felt her heart fluttering with anxiety. "And when Abagha Khan'smessage comes, what do you think it will say?"
"He will order us either to go to the king of the Franks or to go backto Persia." He took a swallow of wine. Rachel saw that his white beardwas stained pink from all the red wine he had spilled on it.
"Then you might go home again?" said Rachel. "Would you like that?" Herhands trembled, and she twined her fingers together in her lap to stillthem.
Usun laughed and drank. "Not home, Reicho. My home is farther away fromPersia than Persia is from here. It is so far away and there are so manyenemies in between that I may never see it again. But I do not care. Mypeople have a fine domain in Persia."
He drank, and held out his empty cup. She filled it with a shaking hand.If he went back to Persia, she might be free of him. Unless her worstfears turned out to be true.
"So, you may soon say good-bye to me." She dared not let him see howeager she was for him to be gone.
He looked up at her, and the light from outside etched the thousand tinycriss-crossed wrinkles around his eyes. "No, Reicho. If I go back, youmust come with me."
Her heart turned to ice, just as if he had told her he was going to killher. She had suspected this and had prayed it would not be so.Everything he said and did, from the day he took her from Tilia's house,showed that he meant never to let her go. She was to be his prisoner forlife.
"Usun," she said, trying to keep her voice calm, "I do not want to gowith you."
He stared at her, his brown face wooden.
"You are afraid," he said. "But you must not be. When you come with me,you will be a very great lady. I am a baghadur. I am as great a lord asKing Charr is here. I know that people of your religion are treatedbadly by the Christians. Among my people all religions are equal. TheUlang-Yassa, the law of Genghis Khan, commands it." When he spoke thename "Genghis Khan" there was a reverence in his voice, like a Christianspeaking of Jesus.
She was reminded of Tilia, telling her why it was better to be a harlotthan a wife. She wanted to weep with frustration, as if she had beenpounding her fists against a stone wall. How could a man who seemedcontent to have left his own homeland behind forever understand how_she_ felt?
"Usun, it does not matter to me that I am lowly here and might be greatthere. This land is where I was born and grew up, and no matter how muchI suffer here, it is my home. I do not want to live among Tartars andPersians. I would be so terribly alone. I beg you, do not try to uprootme from this land."
"You would not be alone," he said in a low, sad voice. "You would haveme."
"I could never be happy with you." It was a terrible thing to say, butonly the truth might make him change his mind.
He did not look at her. He drained his cup and thrust it at her as ifstriking a blow.
"The flagon is empty," she said.
"I will go." He stood up and pulled his tunic on over his head. He wasno taller than she was, but as she sat on the bed and stared up at him,he seemed to loom over her like a giant. His black gaze was empty offeeling as stone.
"It does not matter whether you are happy. You are mine and you willcome with me."
She shrank away from him, terrified. The face he showed her was the faceof the man who had dragged her naked through that Orvieto street.
She threw herself full length on the bed, sobbing. Her heart felt readyto burst with anguish.
_Oh, God, only You can help me. Send someone to deliver me, or I willdie._