The Saracen: The Holy War Page 16

  LVIII

  Manfred von Hohenstaufen sat at a table at the far end of the colonnadedaudience chamber, his pale blond hair gleaming in the candlelight.

  "Come forward," he called to Daoud and Lorenzo. He beckoned to them, thewide sleeve of his green tunic falling away from his arm.

  Their booted feet echoed on the long floor of polished pink marble.Daoud's stomach felt hollow. He _must_ persuade Manfred to carry the warinto the north at once.

  A dark green velvet cloth, hanging to the floor, covered the table atwhich the king of southern Italy and Sicily sat. The tabletop was strewnwith pens and open rolls of parchment. Two chamberlains in dark browntunics hovered at Manfred's back. He wrote quickly on one parchmentafter another, and handed them to his two assistants. Even though it wasa sunny morning outside, this chamber had few windows, and Manfred, tosee his work, needed candelabra at each end of the table.

  When Daoud and Lorenzo reached his table, he waved in dismissal to thechamberlains, and they bowed and left, carrying armloads of scrolls.Seeing Manfred at work, Daoud felt a powerfully protective impulsetoward him. Manfred was not _his_ king, but he had become a worthy ally,and Daoud was prepared to fight Manfred's enemies. To die, if need be,fighting them.

  "An old friend of yours wants to greet you, David," said Manfred, hisbright smile flashing.

  Daoud saw no one. In a candlelit alcove behind Manfred hung a paintingof a red-bearded man in mail armor partly covered by a black and goldsurcoat. It was not painted on the wall, but seemed to be on a separatepiece of wood with a gilded border, which was hung on the wall. The manlooked a bit like Manfred, and Daoud suspected it must be his father,the famous Emperor Frederic. There was an idolatrous look about thepainting and the way it was displayed that made Daoud uneasy. Itreminded him a bit of the saint's image Sophia had kept in her room atOrvieto.

  "David of Trebizond!" came a cry from beside Manfred. Manfred reacheddown and helped a bent, monkeylike figure scramble up to stand on thetable.

  "God blesses our meeting, Daoud ibn Abdallah--this time," said the dwarfErculio.

  He grinned at Daoud through his spiky black mustache. At the sight ofhim Daoud winced at the memory of all the pain this little man hadinflicted on him. He still felt some of that pain, especially in hisfeet, despite the tawidh's hastening of the healing process. But Daoudalso felt a sudden warmth that reminded him of the first time he hadseen the little man, here at Lucera. Deformed in body and soul, requiredto do unspeakable things, Erculio had still found a way to serve God.

  "If my lord Daoud wishes to kill me, I am at his service," said Erculioin Arabic. "I have finished the work our sultan sent me to do in Italy."

  Daoud found himself smiling in spite of himself. "You would have savedme from a mutilation worse than death, Erculio. I cannot hate you forthat. You did your work well."

  Erculio looked like a spider when he bowed, his head touching thetabletop, his elbows bent upward. "I am my lord's slave."

  He was the more admirable, Daoud thought, because despite being sodeformed, he had found important work to do in the world.

  "How is your former master, d'Ucello, faring with the Sienese inOrvieto?" he asked Erculio.

  Erculio spread his hands wide. "Alas! The podesta is dead."

  "Dead?" It was hard to believe. Daoud heard Lorenzo's startled gruntbeside him.

  "The Contessa di Monaldeschi never forgave him for surrendering to theSienese without a fight," Erculio said. "Vittorio, the Monaldeschi heir,stabbed him to death in his office and then escaped into the hills. Heis probably seeking asylum with the Church leaders in Perugia."

  "I would rather have heard that d'Ucello killed Vittorio," said Lorenzo."Then there would be some sense in the world."

  Daoud felt a pang of sorrow, and was surprised at himself. After all,had not d'Ucello arrested him and subjected him to a day and a night ofhorrible torment, with the threat of worse hanging over him? But heremembered the podesta as a man of rare ability, who would have ruledOrvieto well, given a chance. His death was a waste.

  Manfred said, "Erculio has told me of your arrest and your sufferings atthe hands of the podesta of Orvieto. I want to hear more about that. Butlet us speak now of Perugia. What is Ugolini doing?"

  "Lorenzo and I escorted Cardinal Ugolini to Perugia and left him there,"Daoud said. "He planned to block the election of a new pope by keepingthe Italian cardinals united behind himself." He paused a moment. Nowshould he bring up his conviction that Manfred must march northwardbefore a new pope was elected?

  But while he hesitated, Manfred spoke. "What of Sophia Karaiannides?"Manfred looked sharply at Daoud, the sapphire eyes intent. "Why did younot bring her back here with you?"

  Jealous anger stabbed Daoud. Sophia had spoken little of Manfred, butDaoud had long ago realized that she and Manfred must have been lovers.He had decided not to think about that. Now Manfred was wondering whathad happened between Sophia and Daoud, and perhaps wanted Sophia back;Daoud could read it in Manfred's tone and the look in his eyes.

  Daoud tried to see Manfred as Sophia might have. Intensely--one mightalmost say blindingly--handsome, strong, graceful, his brilliant mindattractively decked out with elegance and wit, learned but carrying hislearning lightly, skilled in all the courtly arts and graces. What womancould resist such a man?

  But Manfred must have tired of her, as such men did, who had access toany woman they wanted. Perhaps his queen, or some new love of his, hadinsisted that Sophia be sent away. And once she was gone, he hadrealized what he had lost.

  _Too late now, Manfred._

  But, he reminded himself, he must not let Sophia come between himselfand Manfred.

  Daoud put out his hands, palms up. "Sophia is with Cardinal Ugolini. Thecardinal's courage fails him at times. We thought it best for one of usto stay and give him strength. And Sophia can help him run his householdand entertain the men of influence he must see."

  Manfred nodded, a small smile twitching his blond mustache. "Yes, shewould be good at that."

  Daoud thought of Simon de Gobignon and felt a flash of hatred for him.But he must report about him, too.

  "She has captured the heart of a young French nobleman, the Count deGobignon, who commands the Tartars' military escort. When Charlesd'Anjou invades Italy, de Gobignon will surely be one of his captains."

  "_When_ Charles d'Anjou invades Italy? And a moment ago you said _when_a pope of the French party is elected."

  Daoud was about to reply, but Manfred raised a hand for silence. He rosefrom his high-back chair. With a glance, as if for reassurance, at theportrait of the red-bearded man hanging behind him, he strode out infront of the table with his hands clasped behind his back. Daoud andLorenzo made way for him. He walked the length of the marble floor tothe door at the end of the hall. The dwarf Erculio sank downcross-legged on the tabletop, his long arms clasped around his knees,watching Manfred sombrely.

  Daoud prayed, _Oh, God, help him to judge wisely_.

  "King Louis has always held Charles back," Manfred said, turningsuddenly to face Daoud and Lorenzo. "Louis does not believe that thepope should set Christian rulers against one another."

  _And help me to advise him well._

  Daoud gathered his thoughts. The success of his mission in Italydepended on persuading Manfred to choose the right course. His heartbeat harder. He tried to speak with all the assurance he could muster.

  "Sire, there are enough French cardinals to elect the next pope. Theyare bound to choose a man who will give King Louis what he wants--thealliance between Christians and Tartars. And that same pope will surelyoffer your crown to Charles d'Anjou as Urban did. If Louis has thealliance he wants above all else, he will not stand in Charles's way."

  Manfred sighed and turned away. "So, you think war is certain."

  _Accept it!_ Daoud cried out to Manfred in his heart. _Hesitate nolonger._

  "Yes, once a pope is elected," Daoud said. "But you can act before thathappens. Use the time Ugolini is gaining for yo
u. March north now, Sire,while your enemies are without a head. Join forces with your Ghibellinoallies in northern Italy--Siena, Florence, Pisa, and the rest. Surroundthe College of Cardinals and you can force them to elect a pope of yourchoice. Or scatter them. Three-fourths of them are needed for theelection of a pope. You might be able to stop the election altogether."

  Manfred's back remained turned. Daoud looked at Lorenzo. He could notread Lorenzo's expression; the Sicilian's mouth was hidden beneath hisgrizzled mustache. But Lorenzo shook his head slightly, as if to saythat Daoud was not having the effect he wanted. At that, Daoud felthimself waver toward despair. He commanded himself to stand firm.

  Manfred walked back to the table. He stood before Daoud, his hands stillclasped behind him. His face wore a haunted look. The cheerfulself-confidence Daoud had always seen before was gone.

  "The north is a quagmire this time of year."

  "For your enemies as well as for you," Daoud said. "And they donot--yet--have anything like the strength you can muster. You can callup your vassals here in a few weeks' time. When Charles gets a summonsfrom the new pope, he will then have to gather his troops in France andcross the Alps into Italy. By the time he is ready, you could have allof Italy under your control. And there would be no pope to givelegitimacy to his invasion."

  Manfred snorted and turned away. Daoud, Erculio, and Lorenzo watched himpace.

  He came back and said, "No. I do not trust those you call my allies inthe north. They opposed the pope, but neither do they want to be ruledby me. If I were to try to make myself king of Italy, they would turnagainst me."

  Probably true, Daoud thought, remembering the reluctance of Lapo diStefano, the heir of Siena, to recognize Manfred's kingship over all ofItaly.

  Baibars would be in the north like lightning, though. He would welcomethe bad weather, because it would impede his foes while he himself wouldsimply not _let_ his own troops slow down because of it. And if any ofhis allies even thought of betraying him, he would kill them. But thatwas Baibars. This king, Daoud remembered, had at first not wanted tohelp him with his mission in Orvieto because it might provoke a war.

  Manfred, he saw, kept raising objections because he really wanted to beleft alone to enjoy what he had. He showed no interest whatever inconquering all of Italy. He was the enlightened ruler of a civilized,prosperous land, and he probably would not go to war until the enemy wason his border.

  Though Daoud felt for Manfred and his wish to be at peace, he knew thatno ruler could refuse the duty of war. Peace could be achieved only byconquering the enemies of peace. Every great ruler of Islam from theProphet to Salah ad-Din and Baibars had been a warrior on horseback.

  Daoud's heart felt like a lump of lead. He saw so clearly that with onestroke they could end the danger of a union between Tartars andChristians and save Manfred's kingdom.

  He sighed inwardly. He had tried his best and failed.

  He had no choice but to accept that. But acceptance was not surrender.You surrendered only to the will of God. You accepted things as theywere, but struggled to make them better.

  _The potter does not sigh for better clay, but works with what God putsin his hand_, Sheikh Saadi said.

  Manfred turned away from Daoud, walked around the table with anotherglance at the portrait, and sat down. He frowned at a parchment that laybefore him, as if wishing to end the conversation.

  Daoud said, "Then, Sire, let us at least prepare to defend ourselves asbest we can." He untied a small leather bag from his belt and went overto the desk. Manfred looked up, his blond eyebrows lifted.

  Daoud said, "Allow the sultan of the lands of Islam, who feels himself abrother to you, to come to your aid with this gift." He upended theleather bag over the table, and a flood of tiny lights spilled out.Erculio gasped and drew back from the small pile of precious stones.

  Manfred stared in wonder. "This is enough to pay and equip enoughknights and men-at-arms to double the size of my army. Your sultan giveswith a great heart." He looked at Daoud with more warmth that Daoud hadever seen in those cold blue eyes. "Or is it in fact you who give?"

  "My lord the sultan commanded me to use this wealth carefully, and tohelp you if your enemies should attack."

  Manfred said, "These, then, remain of the jewels I sent you with toOrvieto? Twelve? You are a remarkably good steward, Daoud. I should putyou in charge of my treasury."

  Daoud inclined his head respectfully. "I hope you will put me where Ican serve you better, Sire."

  "And where is that?"

  "Sire, my work here is far from done. Give me a unit of your army tocommand. Let them be, if you permit, fighting men of my own faith."

  _And I may yet kill the Tartars and rescue Rachel._

  Manfred's face fairly glowed. He picked up one of the jewels from histable, a large precious topaz of a warm golden color. He took Daoud'shand, laid the rare stone on his palm, and closed his fingers over it.

  "This is yours. Use it to recruit and supply a troop of your own in myservice. They should count themselves blessed by God to have a Mameluketo train and lead them."

  "It is I who am blessed," Daoud said.

  He looked at the stone in his hand. It was a shade lighter than thecolor of Sophia's eyes.

  He bowed again to Manfred. At last he could fight as he preferred to,leading troops in open battle. As a Mameluke.

  Smiling to himself, he stroked his chin.

  _And at last I can let my beard grow._

  * * * * *

  _A letter from Emir Daoud ibn Abdallah to El Malik Baibarsal-Bunduqdari, from Lucera, 19th day of Rabia, A.H. 663:_

  Next to the Byzantine Empire this kingdom of southern Italy and Sicily is the most civilized of Christian nations. That is to say, a Muslim might almost be comfortable here. In fact, many are.

  The chief interests of King Manfred's courtiers are falconry, poetry, dalliance with beautiful women, and philosophical disputation. My lord will note that I do not mention warfare.

  King Manfred seems to hope that some intervention by God or fate or chance will make it unnecessary for him to take the field against Charles d'Anjou.

  Christian warriors generally prefer to wait for their enemies to come to them, reasoning that a small force of defenders can defeat a large force of attackers. That is why there are castles everywhere in Europe, even in the cities of Europe. Their wars against us, that they call crusades, are an exception, and perhaps, too, they have learned something from the failure of those invasions.

  But this is also an exceptional moment. The Guelfi and the French are not ready to fight, and Manfred could win everything if he were to act now.

  I tried to persuade him to invade northern Italy and bring the Papacy under his control, but he would have none of it. So we must await Charles, and defeat him when he comes. After that Italy will lie open to Manfred. Then for his own future safety he will have to place the pope under his influence.

  But how I long for a day like that when I rode behind my lord Baibars to destroy the Tartars on the field at the Well of Goliath.

  It appears to me now that God intends the destiny of the Dar al-Islam to hinge on one great battle. If Manfred defeats Charles d'Anjou in Italy, the Franks will withdraw to lick their wounds. The French losses will deprive Louis of the troops he needs for his crusade against us. But, if Manfred falls, then the pope and the Franks, made greedy by victory, will be eager to join forces with the Tartars and extend their empire into our sacred lands of Islam. I will do my best to see that the Franks do not defeat Manfred, and if I fail I hope not to live to see what comes after.

  All is in the hands of God, the All-Powerful, the Compassionate.