"Then here is power." Daoud unbuckled his belt and let the jewels spill
out of its hollow interior into his hand. He heard Tilia gasp. When the
glittering stones filled his hand, he dropped them gently to the thin
woolen cloak he had spread on the ground and shook the rest out of the
belt. In the shadow of the pines the jewels seemed to give off their own
light from their polished, rounded surfaces, red and blue, green and
yellow. A sapphire, a topaz, and a pearl were each set in heavy gold
rings. The others were loose. Some were so small that three or four of
them would fit on the tip of Daoud's finger. One, a ruby, was the size
of a whole fingertip. There were too many of them to count quickly, but
Daoud knew that Manfred had given him twenty-five, and one had gone to
equip them for the journey.
"Sanctissima Maria! May I touch them?"
"You are welcome to," he said, smiling, "but make sure none of them
sticks to your fingers."
She plucked some of the jewels from the cloak and let them trickle
through her fingers, catching the light as they tumbled to the cloak.
She held the big ruby up between thumb and forefinger and studied it,
turning it this way and that.
"A drop of God's blood."
"You should have seen the single emerald I traded to King Manfred for
these smaller stones. There was beauty. A few at a time, these can be
turned into gold."
She looked into his eyes. She took him more seriously now, he thought.
He was not just some strange Muslim whose rashness might get her killed.
He was a source of wealth.
"They must be sold carefully, or their sudden appearance will be
noticed," she said. "After all, even the princes of the Church would
have to stretch their purses for these."
"I have it in mind to buy princes of the Church, not to sell jewelry to
them."
"We can sell some of these gems to the Templars. They have enormous
wealth and they are very discreet."
Noting that she had said "we," Daoud smiled at the thought of those
ferocious enemies of the Mamelukes, the Knights Templar, helping to
provide the financing that would weaken their foothold in Islamic lands.
"Now," he said, "do you think we can accomplish something to keep
Tartars and Christians apart?"
"Yes--something. Used wisely, these jewels--or their worth in gold--will
gain you influence among the men around the pope. You might even pry a
few of the French cardinals loose from their loyalty to King Louis."
Daoud began scooping up the stones and funneling them into the hidden
pocket of his belt. "You must help me to use them wisely."
"Exactly what do you have in mind?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the
jewels as they disappeared.
"I expect Cardinal Ugolini to take some of the gold and use it to build
a strong party in Orvieto that will oppose the alliance." He eyed her,
trying to see into her heart. "Can he manage such a thing?"
"Oh, Adelberto is an old hand at intrigue. How else do you suppose he
got to be a cardinal? Indeed, he is the camerlengo for the College of
Cardinals."
"What does that mean?" Daoud asked as he buckled his belt.
"He acts as a kind of chancellor to the pope, making announcements,
calling the College together, conducting ceremonies--that sort of
thing."
Daoud nodded. "Good. It is my hope that he can use this money to draw
cardinals and Church officials to him, one way or another. And they will
join together to turn the pope against the Tartars."
"With all the money those jewels will bring, you can indeed create such
a faction, but I don't know what effect it will have on the pope. The
Tartars offer the pope a chance to wipe out Islam once and for all."
"Yes, and then after that the Tartars will wipe out Christianity," Daoud
said. "I can tell those who will work with us what the Tartars are truly
like. I have seen them, fought against them. I have seen what they have
done to those they conquered." Like a cloud passing over the sun, a
memory of ruined Baghdad darkened his mind.
Tilia's eyes opened wide. "You intend to meet and talk--to bishops, to
cardinals?"
He touched his face with his fingertips. "This is why Baibars sent
me--because I can go among Christians as a Christian. I will be David of
Trebizond, a silk merchant who has traveled in the lands ravaged by the
Tartars."
"Trebizond?"
He could see the doubt in her face. He must seem confident to her. He
must not let her know that he himself wondered how he, a warrior from a
land utterly strange to these people, could make the great ones of
Christendom listen to him and believe in him. He could do it only with
the help of Tilia and Cardinal Ugolini--and they would not help him
unless they believed he could do it.
"Trebizond is on the eastern shore of the Black Sea. Far enough away
that I am not likely to meet anyone in Orvieto who knows anything about
it."
"Do not be too sure. The pope makes a point of seeing people from
everywhere."
"Then he will probably want to meet me, since I am from a strange and
faraway place."
Her eyes widened and her full lips parted. Her teeth were small, bright,
and widely spaced.
"You even want to meet with the _pope_?"
He knew the enormity of what he was proposing. But he fought down the
doubt that her evident horror had aroused in him. He made himself sound
absolutely sure when he answered.
"Certainly. Cardinal Ugolini will arrange an audience for me. If the
pope has not yet made a decision, he will want to listen to one who has
seen with his own eyes what these Tartars are. I will tell him that an
agreement with them would be like a lamb allying itself with a panther."
"Talk to the pope! How would you know how to behave before the pope?"
"Among my people, Madonna, I am not just a warrior. I stand high in the
highest councils. I have met with kings and great men of religion. As
for the details of etiquette of an audience with the pope, as a traveler
from Trebizond I might be expected to make mistakes."
Daoud saw that her olive skin had turned a yellowish-white. "Do you want
to be torn to pieces by teams of horses?" she whispered. "I do not, and
neither does Cardinal Ugolini. We cannot risk your being found out."
He must overcome her doubt of him by seeming supremely confident.
He said, "Then, for your own protection, you will teach me everything I
need to know."
And if Christians moved closer to Tartars despite intrigue and
persuasion, he and Baibars had already considered more desperate
measures. The risk of failure would be greater and the consequences more
dire. He would not tell Tilia about these more drastic steps. If his
presence and intentions already frightened her and Ugolini, it was best
they not know the lengths he was prepared to go to.
He hoped he would not have to attempt such things. The complexities and
difficulties of making them happen, the likelihood of things going
disastrously wrong, all made these courses too daunting.
Insh'Allah, if it be God's will, he would manage, with the help of such
allies as he found in Orvieto, to oppose and obstruct and delay the
alliance until the project died of old age, or the Tartar ambassadors
themselves died.
_Time fights for Islam_, Baibars had told him. _The Tartar empire is
beginning to break apart, and the Christians are losing their eagerness
for crusading. Only delay this alliance long enough, and their
opportunity to destroy us will be lost._
Tilia broke in on his thoughts, holding out her hands to him. "Help me
up. My legs are getting cramped. I feel hungry. Do you have anything to
eat?"
He was not surprised that she asked for food. Mustapha al-Zaid, the
chief eunuch of Baibars's harem, was monstrously fat, and was always
eating.
He sprang to his feet and pulled her up. The cross on her bosom swung
and flashed. The top of her head came only to the middle of his chest,
but he suspected that she weighed as much or more than he did.