The Saracen: Land of the Infidel Part 101

His chair creaking loudly, Fra Toma.s.so leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table in front of him. "I am so sure of my conclusions that I have written to Emperor Sigismund in Germany, King Boleslav in Poland, and King Wenceslas in Hungary--all lands that have suffered from the depredations of the Tartars, urging them to beg His Holiness to repudiate this scheme that will bring the frontier of Tartary so much closer to us. I have written to King Louis of France, your liege lord, too, young Count de Gobignon, even though he is said to be eager for a pact with the Tartars. Furthermore, Father da Varda is considering my proposal that the Dominican order all over Christendom preach against an alliance with the Tartars."

Hearing in Fra Toma.s.so's words the ruin of all his hopes, Simon could not contain himself. He burst out. "_Why?_"

Fra Toma.s.so looked surprised, even a bit affronted. "For all the reasons you heard in church last Friday. They are not simple savages, my young friend. They are diabolical."

It was hopeless. Simon's heart sank lower and lower. The great preacher's mind was made up.

"Yes, but, Your Reverence"--Simon felt driven by desperation to debate with a man whom he knew was invincible in argument--"we all know of many times when Christians and Saracens have been just as cruel."

Friar Mathieu gave a little grunt of agreement.

Fra Toma.s.so looked down at his thumbs, the tips pressed together as they rested on his wide belly. There was a moment of silence. He was thinking, Simon realized. Hardly ever had Simon seen a man stop to think before speaking in an argument. He began to tremble inwardly, expecting to be crushed.

Fra Toma.s.so raised a fat finger. "Yes, I know that Christian knights have also committed barbarities. But they did so in mindless rage, and afterward they were ashamed. Even the Mohammedan faith teaches the Saracens to wage only just wars, to be compa.s.sionate, to spare the innocent and helpless. I stipulate that neither Christians nor Mohammedans live up to these laws. But they _profess_ them. The Tartars have no such laws. In their bottomless ignorance they think that it is _good_ to commit deeds of unimaginable horror, and they do it with calculation. Exemplum: As David of Trebizond has told me, when they wipe out the population of a city, they know there will be a few survivors.

So, weeks later, they return to the ruins when the remaining few people have emerged from hiding, and they slaughter them all. That is the worst sort of evil--evil done with utter deliberation."

_David of Trebizond, may he roast in h.e.l.l!_ thought Simon.

"With respect, Your Reverence," said Friar Mathieu, "the Tartars have lived isolated in their prairie homeland since the beginning of time.

But I beg of you to believe that they can be won to the mercy of Christ.

I have seen it. I have _done_ it."

_We are gaining ground_, Simon thought. If Fra Toma.s.so really could be swayed by the testimony of a person who had seen with his own eyes, they had a chance.

A hammering from beneath the floor made Simon start. Someone was knocking on the trapdoor. Friar Mathieu nibbled at his mustache in vexation while Fra Toma.s.so smiled broadly and called, "Come up."

The heavy door creaked upward, pushed by a hand in a white sleeve. A s.h.i.+ny, tonsured scalp reflected the light from the tower window.

The young Dominican who emerged was almost too breathless to speak.

"Reverend Father! News from Bolsena! Un miracolo!"

Fra Toma.s.so's eyes widened. "Bolsena? Is that near here?"

"So near, Reverend Father, that the miracle happened yesterday and the news reached us this afternoon."

"What miracle?"

"A foreign priest--from some eastern country--was saying ma.s.s. And when he got to the consecration and raised the Sacred Host"--the young friar's eyes glowed--"the Host dripped blood!"

Simon's head spun in confusion. Frustrated rage at being interrupted when they were so close to victory struggled with amazement at this tale of a bleeding Communion wafer. He looked at Fra Toma.s.so, and all hope ebbed away. The philosopher's face fairly glowed with relief. Sadness swelled in Simon. They did not have a chance. Perhaps they had never had one.

Before they knew it, it seemed, Friar Mathieu and Simon were walking together out the gate of the Dominican convent. Behind them there were shouts and white-robed friars bustling to and fro like a flock of startled doves. The whole convent, it seemed, was in an uproar over the miracle at Bolsena.

Fra Toma.s.so had courteously but firmly dismissed Mathieu and Simon, saying that he must question the one who brought the news. He might, he said, be called upon to look further into the event at Bolsena, and he must be fully prepared.

Simon had wanted to protest. If Fra Toma.s.so would only give them a little more time, he would surely have to change his mind about the Tartars. But Simon sensed that Fra Toma.s.so did not want to change his mind.

The sky was cold and gray as chain mail. Carters, hors.e.m.e.n, and laborers on foot bustled along, their cloaks pulled tight around them against the chill north wind.

_All is lost_, Simon thought, as he had after Alain's funeral. Just when they were gaining ground with Fra Toma.s.so, news of a miracle. Was G.o.d Himself against them?

Skulking back to Gobignon. Forever to be known, not as the count who helped liberate Jerusalem, but as the son of the traitor Amalric.

_Maybe I should give it all up and become a Franciscan, like Friar Mathieu._

"Where did he get that scroll?" Friar Mathieu wondered.

"What can we do now?" said Simon. He was not really asking; it was only a way of saying he thought nothing could be done. He was in despair over the failure of their mission.

Then he thought of Sophia.

In an instant a light bloomed within him. Skulking back to Gobignon? No, riding back in triumph, with the most beautiful woman in the world beside him as his bride.

He had not yet nerved himself to propose to Sophia, but now that they had failed with Fra Toma.s.so, he could not wait to see her again.

Friar Mathieu scratched his white beard thoughtfully. "It was de Verceuil who tipped the scales against the Tartars. And it was we who sent de Verceuil. I thought this might be the one time he could be useful to us."

"Fra Toma.s.so had already sided with Ugolini's faction," Simon said.

"That is why we sent de Verceuil."

"He told us today that he had been trying to be neutral," said Friar Mathieu. "But Sophia told you that Fra Toma.s.so had already sided with Ugolini's party. Do you suppose the great Dominican was not being candid with us? Or was it Sophia who was not being candid?"

Simon gasped at the sudden pain of a blow that was worse than their failure with Fra Toma.s.so. Sophia not honest? No, he could not live with that.

He stiffened so suddenly that his horse stopped walking. He stared at Friar Mathieu in dismay.

Friar Mathieu reached over and put his hand on Simon's arm. His touch was light but firm.

"Know where you are going, Simon. Do not travel blindly."

Simon nodded. There was a way to find out the truth about Sophia.

He must put Sordello to work. The mere thought of that blackguard spying on Sophia twisted his heart with anguish. But he had to know the truth.

x.x.xVIII

_A letter from Emir Daoud ibn Abdallah to El Malik Baibars al-Bunduqdari, from Orvieto, 13th day of Muharram, 663 A.H.:_

O Pillar of the Faith, the gift of the ancient scroll to the Christian scholar Toma.s.so d'Aquino has served our purposes beyond my expectations. At the same time that I delivered the scroll to him, I arranged for the allies of the Tartars to be deceived into thinking that the priest Toma.s.so was already in our camp. They chose the arrogant Cardinal de Verceuil, of whom I have told you, to bring his influence to bear on the priest Toma.s.so. The cardinal's treatment of Toma.s.so so offended him that he was driven to take the side we wished of him.

This Toma.s.so has turned the clouds Ugolini and I stirred up into a veritable thunderstorm. The pope cannot proclaim a crusade unless he has the support of the Christian kingdoms and peoples. Otherwise, they will support him only halfheartedly or not at all. I confess I am surprised at how often the Christians of Europe choose to neglect or even refuse to do what the pope demands of them.

As we know, the Christians of today have not the zeal to make war on us that their forefathers had. Let time pa.s.s, and Hulagu Khan will lose patience and recall his amba.s.sadors. The Christians will fight among themselves here in Europe. And, if G.o.d wills it, Islam will know peace. Such is my deepest desire.