"In the Far East they have taken greater cities and conquered much
larger empires."
Fra Tomasso crossed himself. "But it is God's will, even as Augustine
tells us, that cities be destroyed and empires rise and fall. The
Tartars may be the builders of a Christian empire that embraces the
whole world."
_God forbid it!_ Daoud was becoming exasperated with the fat Dominican's
"perhapses" and "maybes." _Perhaps the earth moves and the sun stands
still. Maybe the Tartars are God's means of making the whole world
Christian._
He warned himself not to let his anger show. This might seem to be a
pleasant conversation, but actually he was tiptoeing around the edge of
a pit of quicksand.
Still, if this clever, restless mind could be recruited to work against
the alliance, how persuasive it would be. Daoud had already noticed that
most of the leaders of Christendom listened when d'Aquino spoke. But
Daoud dared not argue against the belief that God decided the fate of
nations. He recalled a teaching of his Sufi master, Sheikh Saadi. He
framed it in his mind to offer to d'Aquino.
"Your Reverence, truly we must accept as the will of God that which has
happened. But to think we can guess what God wills for the future is
sinful pride. We can be guided only by the knowledge of right and wrong
He has implanted in us."
D'Aquino let his folded hands rest on the great sphere of his belly. His
blue eyes gazed off at a point somewhere behind Daoud, whose muscles
tightened as he waited for the friar to speak. He watched through the
open window as a flock of crows circled in the deep-blue sky. They chose
a direction and dwindled to a cloud of black dots over the green hills.
Daoud realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out just as the
last crow disappeared.
"That is well stated," said Fra Tomasso. "I can find no objection to
that."
Elated, Daoud pressed on. "And it follows that if we think the Tartar
destruction of civilization is wrong, we must fight against it." He
hoped he did not sound too eager. D'Aquino would surely be suspicious if
he saw how badly Daoud wanted his cooperation.
"I will have to consider that," said Fra Tomasso judiciously. "But
perhaps we could teach the Tartars the value of civilization. If we made
allies of them, we could make it a condition that they not destroy any
more of the great cities of the Muslim world. Indeed, our missionaries
will be among them. They can point out what should be saved."
Daoud's breathing quickened as rage rumbled up inside him. It sounded
exactly as if Fra Tomasso meant that the Tartars could slaughter all the
people of Islam as long as they left the libraries intact. Using the
Hashishiyya technique called "the Face of Steel within the Mask of
Clay," he walled off his anger.
He would not contradict Fra Tomasso's last idea. He would try instead to
make the beginning of a bargain.
"Those libraries of Trebizond you asked me about," Daoud said. "I am
sure there are many books in them that exist nowhere else in the world.
Perhaps even the book you mentioned, that rare book of Aristotle. Would
you write down its name for me, Fra Tomasso? I will inquire about it in
my next report to my trading partners."
The Dominican leaned forward until most of his belly disappeared below
the horizon of his desk. In that position he was able to pull the desk
closer and search it for a blank slip of parchment. He dipped his quill
ceremoniously in his inkpot, wrote briefly, then carefully poured fine
white sand from a jar to absorb the excess ink. Daoud rose to take the
parchment from him.
_Now, if only such a book exists somewhere in the lands where Baibars's
power runs. And if only the weather on the Middle Sea allows us to get
the book here quickly. And if only it has the effect on Fra Tomasso that
I want._
So many ifs. Far too many. The outcome of a battle would be easier to
predict. For the thousandth time Daoud wished he were leading troops in
the field rather than intriguing in the chambers of enemy leaders.
"I understand it will be possible to meet the two Tartars when the
Contessa di Monaldeschi gives a reception in their honor next week,"
said Daoud. "Will Your Reverence be attending?"
Fra Tomasso nodded. "But I also intend to talk with them privately as I
have with you." Daoud tensed inwardly as he heard that. "It will be
interesting, though, to see how they comport themselves in a gathering,"
the Dominican went on. "Yes, I shall come to the contessa's. And you?"
"As Cardinal Ugolini's guest," said Daoud with modesty. "And what of the
execution of the heretic who threatened the ambassadors in the
cathedral? Will Your Reverence witness that? I understand it should be a
most edifying spectacle." He folded Fra Tomasso's bit of parchment and
thrust it into the pouch at his belt.
Fra Tomasso shook his head. "The good of the community demands that we
make an example of the poor creature. He refuses to admit his errors.
Still, I cannot stand to see a fellow human being suffer. I will not be
there."
So, thought Daoud contemptuously, the fat Dominican was one of those who
could justify the shedding of blood but could not stand to see it shed.
And in the same way, d'Aquino might decide to be for war or for peace
and never see the consequences of his decision. Daoud might wish to lead
troops in battle, but he reminded himself that it was in studios like
this, where men of influence thought and read and argued, that the real
war was being fought.