XXIII
The rats scavenged in the garbage and the cats hunted the rats. And catsand rats scurried out of the way of the two men who staggered beneath awaning moon through the streets of Orvieto.
"I was truly drunk," said Daoud. "But only my body was drunk. It isstill drunk." He walked with one arm thrown over Lorenzo's shoulder tosteady his steps. It must have rained during the evening. The streetswere slippery, and the clean, vaporous scent of drying rain was strongerthan the usual odor of rotting rubbish piled between the houses in thespaces the Orvietans called quintane.
"You feign the extremity of drunkenness quite well," said Lorenzo. Theyhad met by prearrangement on the street outside the Monaldeschi palace.Sophia and Cardinal Ugolini left earlier and separately, carried insedan chairs and escorted by the cardinal's guards.
"What hour is it?" Daoud asked.
"Past the third nocturn. Do you know what that means?"
"It was explained to me once, but now my memory seems to be drunk."
"Simply, dawn is not far off," said Celino. "The third nocturn isbetween midnight and dawn. The contessa's reception began at the firstnocturn, between sunset and midnight. Tell me, did you never experiencewine in Egypt?"
Daoud decided that, much as he liked Lorenzo, he did not want to confideany of Saadi's most secret teachings to an atheist.
"Many times we stayed up all night, drinking kaviyeh, talking andwatching the dancers. But we do not drink wine."
"Really?" said Lorenzo, glancing at him. "Permit me to be skeptical. Iknow many Muslims who drink wine."
Daoud shook his head. "Most Mamelukes do not drink wine. When Baibarsbecame sultan, he closed all the wine shops in El Kahira." He alsodecided not to tell Lorenzo that in private Baibars enjoyed the Tartardrink kumiss, made from the fermented milk of mares.
Lorenzo grunted. "Then you Mamelukes are stricter in your observancethan many others who were born to Islam."
They passed the cathedral of San Giovenale. It was lit within, and thenarrow stained glass windows glowed red, yellow, blue, and white.
_You go into a Christian church during the day, and the windows are allalight with colors. At night the windows are black if you are inside thechurch but brightly lit if you are outside. As if the church is callingto those outside in the darkness._
"So beautiful," Daoud said, "even if the images were idolatrous."
"You should see some of the new cathedrals up near Paris. The windowsare much bigger, and the figures are more lifelike."
"Do you admire the Christian churches?" Daoud asked.
"I admire beauty wherever I find it. On Sicily, there are beautifulstained glass windows in many synagogues."
"We are building a mosque in El Kahira that will be the wonder of theworld. But when were you in Paris?"
"Four years ago, on a mission for King Manfred."
_Four years ago I was battling Tartars in Palestine._
As they passed the open front doors of the cathedral, Daoud looked upthe steps. He saw the bright yellow light of massed candles and heard achorus of male voices raised in song. The voices seemed thin and high,as if reaching up into the night sky. He had heard such singingbefore--a long time before. He felt a catch in his throat.
"Why are the priests singing so late at night?"
"Those are the priests of the cathedral chapter. It is the beginning ofday for them. They are chanting lauds, the dawn prayer of the Church."
Listening to the voices, Daoud felt hot tears running down his face.
Lorenzo glanced at him and chuckled. "I see you are not so impervious tothe attractions of Christianity."
Daoud was embarrassed, but he could not stop the flow of tears. "It isthe wine."
He was remembering high mass in the chapel of the castle, with hisfather's hand on his shoulder as they knelt and the chief priest indazzling white and gold cope raised the white wafer toward heaven. Hisfather whispered, "Jesus is come down among us," and then his strongtenor voice joined in "Veni Creator Spiritus."
_I weep now for my father because I had no chance to weep for him whenhe was killed._
"Suppose he is in some Christian heaven looking down at me. What wouldhe think?"
Daoud started at the sound of his own words.
_I must be drunk. I would never speak so in front of Lorenzo--oranyone--otherwise._
"Who is looking down at you?" Lorenzo asked. His shoulders were hard andbroad under Daoud's arm, and he seemed to bear Daoud's weight withoutthe least difficulty. They were past the cathedral now, following astraight, fairly wide street that gently sloped downward. Broken cloudsdrifted away from the half moon. Like a watchman's lantern it hung overthe center of the street, between the overhanging second stories of thehouses.
"My father," said Daoud, and a sob bubbled up in his throat as he softlyspoke the word, albeit in the unfamiliar tongue of Italy. "How he musthate me and curse me for fighting for Islam."
Lorenzo halted his stride and lifted his head. Then he started walkingagain. He raised his hand and gripped the wrist Daoud was resting on hisshoulder.
In a very low voice he said, "Someone is following us."
Now Daoud stopped, tensing. He called on the power of his mind to resistthe wine. His tears dried on the instant.
"Walk on," said Lorenzo in a low voice. "Keep your arm over my shoulder.Keep talking to me." In a louder voice he said, "I do not believepeople's souls go to a heaven of any sort."
"Can they hear us?" Daoud said softly. De Verceuil, he thought. He musthave decided to have me killed. His body felt cold. His journey fromEgypt and all his work, despite tonight's triumph, might end here on arain-wet street. And what would happen to Sophia if he were killed?
"They cannot hear what we say. But careful, they might be able to tellfrom the tone of our voices whether we are aware of them. Can youfight?"
"Not well. Not well at all." The Scorpion, the small crossbow hidden inhis cloak, he thought, might account for one or two of them, if he couldsee well enough to aim it. He blinked his eyes. He saw two moons hangingover the street, blinked again, and saw one.
"Do not Jews believe in an immortal soul?" he asked in a normal voice,keeping up the pretense of conversation.
He cursed his lack of foresight. Why had he not thought to arrange forsome of their bravos to meet them and escort them back to Ugolini'spalace? Because he did not want himself connected with the fighting menLorenzo had brought to Orvieto. That it had been a sensible precautiondid not ease his anguish now.
"Maimonides writes that men and women live on after they die only in thememory of others," said Lorenzo. "Of course, orthodox rabbis say thatMaimonides was a heretic."
"If the dead live on only in memory, then my father is truly dead,because I have done nothing for his memory, and I fight against all thathe fought for."
Daoud realized that his wine-numbed mind was hardly working. He wasrelying on Lorenzo to think of some way to get them through this. Hehated having his life depend on another man's cleverness. He tried tofree his thoughts from the poisonous grip of al-koahl. It had beeneasier earlier this evening, but he was very tired now.
"I prefer to believe that people become more broadminded after theydie," said Lorenzo. "They come face-to-face with the truth, whatever itis, and they see how each of us, Turk and Jew and Christian, has beenstruggling to uphold a dimly glimpsed version of what they see plainly.If they do not feel sorry for us, then probably they laugh at us.
"And now, this way. Move as silently as you can."
Abruptly, holding tight to Daoud's wrist, Lorenzo made a sharp left turninto an alley so narrow it was almost invisible. It was scarcely morethan a quintana, a tunnel rather than an alley; the overhanging secondstories of the houses on either side actually had a wall in common.
Lorenzo pulling him, Daoud broke into a trot. All around them was a hotblackness reeking of decay. Daoud could hear creatures scrabbling out ofhis way. Ahead was a bluish oblong--the end of the tunnel and themoonlit space beyo
nd it.
They stopped abruptly. Lorenzo swung Daoud's arm down and stepped awayfrom him, gripping him briefly by the shoulders to brace him.
"Now you must clear your head, Messer David. I hear them coming. I thinkthey saw us duck in here. Get out your sword or your dagger, whateversuits you best, and get ready to fight."
Daoud heard the sound of running boots. He tried to guess how manypursuers there were, but his head was not clear enough of wine fumes forthat. He fell against the rough plaster wall. Could he and Lorenzo breakthrough a doorway into a house and hide there? No, the people withinwould probably give them away.
He heard the slithering sound of Lorenzo's sword being drawn. He decidednot to use the Scorpion. It would take too long to load and cock it, andif he fumbled, he would be cut down without a second chance.
His mind was fairly clear of the toxic power of al-koahl, but his body,still in its grip, felt half dead to him.
_How can I fight, as dizzy as I am? Thou hast said it, O God, wine is anabomination. Forgive me for drinking it, and help me now._
He reached for his sword, the handsome new one he had bought in Orvieto.He drew it out slowly, as quietly as he could, and hefted it in hishand. A bit late now to wonder how it would stand up in a fight.
The running footsteps stopped suddenly. Looking at the end of the alley,Daoud saw figures silhouetted by the moonlight. He heard voicesmurmuring. Then the figures seemed to fill the rectangular mouth of thealley. There seemed to be six of them. They moved slowly, cautiously.
"Capons," whispered Lorenzo. "Afraid to charge us. Let us move to wherethere is light to fight by."
He pulled Daoud after him. Daoud felt his head clearing. He could hearbetter and, despite the darkness, see better. But he staggered as theyran out of the alley.
They found themselves in a campiello, a courtyard surrounded by houses.In the center, on a small pedestal, was a statue, one of their saintidols, with arms outstretched. Daoud looked quickly around him. Thereseemed to be no way out but the alleyway they had entered through.
He heard a loud thump to his right. A dark figure suddenly stood there.Another thump on the left, and another in front. Men were jumping downfrom the rooftops.
In a moment, four men in a rough semicircle faced Lorenzo and Daoud.Blades gleamed silvery in the moonlight.
The six others who had been pursuing them rushed out of the alley.
Filled with a despairing rage, Daoud clenched his teeth and raised hissword.