The Saracen: Land of the Infidel by Robert Shea
XIX
"Are there any great collections of books in Trebizond?" Fra Tomassoleaned forward intently, and his belly, swathed in the white linen robeof his order, pushed the small black writing desk toward Daoud.
Fra Tomasso's dialect was easy for Daoud to understand. It was the sameas Lorenzo's, since the friar came from southern Italy. It was thedialect Daoud had learned in Egypt.
But in another sense, conversing with d'Aquino was not at all easy. Hisbody tense, Daoud sat on the edge of his chair, alert for any questionthat might be meant to trap him. And at the same time, he burned for achance to persuade the stout Dominican to oppose the Tartar alliance. Hewas both hunted and hunter today.
"Yes, Father. The basileus of Trebizond--the emperor--has the biggestlibrary, with the monks of Mount Gelesias not far behind. Several of thegreat families have large collections of very old manuscripts. I amafraid I cannot tell you what is in any of those libraries. I know moreabout spices and silks than I do about books. Is there a particular bookyou are interested in?"
Daoud, relieved, watched the round face glow as the Dominican seemed torelish the possibilities. It would never have done to admit it toUgolini, but Daoud was not without fear. He realized that a slip mightlead to his arrest and torture, the end of his mission, and, finally,death. His head had begun to ache from the effort of posing andanswering all questions with care.
But now he sensed a way of reaching d'Aquino. More than anything else,the man would want books--books that would help him write more books ofhis own. Perhaps his huge physical appetite was but a reflection of hishunger for knowledge.
"Ah, Messer David." He smiled, and Daoud realized that his mouth was notsmall--it only looked small because of the round cheeks on either sideof it. "There is one book I have heard of that I would give everything Ipossess--if I possessed anything--to own. You are familiar with _the_philosopher, Aristotle?"
Daoud nodded. How wise it had been of Baibars, he thought, to commandhim to spend months with a mullah from Andalus who was versed in thephilosophies of the Christians and of their Greek and Romanpredecessors. Daoud had even read works by Aristotle in Arabic.
"Much of my work, like that of my colleagues, is based on the writingsof Aristotle," d'Aquino went on. "He has been called the Master of ThoseWho Know. I call him _the_ philosopher. His thought encompassed everysubject under the sun--and the sun itself, I believe. The ancientwriters refer to a book by Aristotle called in Latin _De Caelestiis, Ofthe Heavens_. In it _the_ philosopher writes about the movement ofheavenly bodies, the sun, the stars, and the planets, and theirrelations with one another. That book disappeared during the long warsthat led to the downfall of the Roman Empire. Every time I meet atraveler from some distant part of the world, I ask him about _DeCaelestiis_."
"Does it tell how the planets rule men's fates?" Daoud asked.
"That is a ridiculous, irrational, and superstitious notion." FraTomasso waved the suggestion away with a stubby-fingered hand. Daoudfelt a cold wave of terror. Had he said something that gave him away?
But Fra Tomasso, leaning back in his squeaking chair, seemedunperturbed. And Daoud remembered that Ugolini studied the influence ofthe stars on human lives. So it could not be such an un-Christianbelief.
The Dominican pointed over his shoulder to the window of his cell, alarge rectangle cut in the curving whitewashed wall. This was one of thefew rooms Daoud had entered in Italy that was not covered withidolatrous or obscene paintings, and he liked its austerity. Except, ofcourse, for the ubiquitous figure of Jesus the Messiah, crucified,hanging opposite the window. Daoud tried to avoid looking at thecrucifixes because they reminded him of his childhood, but they wereeverywhere in Orvieto.
"Aristotle reasoned about the relations of the heavenly bodies to oneanother," Fra Tomasso said. "One account of the _De Caelestiis_ declaresthat he believed that the sun does not move."
"But we see it move," Daoud said, surprised.
"We think we see it move." D'Aquino smiled. "But have you ever stood onthe deck of a galley as it was pulling away from the quay and had thefeeling that the quay was moving while the ship was standing still? Wellthen, what if the earth is moving, just like a ship on whose deck westand, while the sun remains fixed?"
Daoud thought about the vast and solid earth and the daily journey ofthe sun like a bright lamp across the sky. It was self-evident which oneof them moved. But he sensed that Fra Tomasso was in love with thisidea. He had best not argue too strenuously against it.
"Ingenious," he said.
_Ridiculous_, he thought to himself. _This man dismisses astrology andapproves greater absurdities._
"I myself suspected that the sun might be stationary while the earthmoves long before I learned that Aristotle might also believe so." FraTomasso waved a hand toward the window again. His cell was the top floorof one of the towers fortifying the Dominican chapter house, an anthillof constant, mysterious activity. D'Aquino's window overlooked the northside of Orvieto's wall. There was no covering on the window, and theshutters were open to let in the cool mountain air. Daoud gazed upon therolling hills, bright green in the sunlight, beyond Orvieto'sbattlements. This was a lovely country, he thought. Back in Egypt thehills would be brown this time of year.
"Look how much light and heat we get from the sun," Fra Tomasso went on."Yet, the sun appears small--I can hide it with my thumb."
_Your thumb could hide four or five suns._
"Perhaps it _is_ small," Daoud said.
"If it is as big as it must be to produce such light and heat, it mustbe very far away--thousands of leagues--to appear so small. But if it isthat far away, it must be bigger still, for its heat and light to travelsuch a distance. The bigger it is, the farther away it must be--thefarther away it is, the bigger it must be. Do you follow? There must bea strict rule of proportion."
Daoud told himself to ignore this nonsense and concentrate on theimportant thing--that Fra Tomasso badly wanted a book by this paganphilosopher Aristotle. That book might be the means of winning FraTomasso. Not that he could be crudely bribed, but certainly such apresent would favorably dispose him to what Daoud had to say.
And he saw another way to make the point he had come to make.
"It may be, Your Reverence, that the book you want has been lostforever. When I spoke of the destruction of Baghdad the other day, Ishould have mentioned that the Tartars burned there a library rivaledonly by the great library of Alexandria in its prime."
His flesh turned cold. That was a mistake. In his zeal he hadmomentarily forgotten that it was Christians who had destroyed thelibrary of Alexandria. As the story was often told in Egypt, when theMuslim warriors took Alexandria from the Christians, they found thatmost of what had once been the world's greatest collection of books hadbeen used to fuel the fires that warmed the public baths.
But, to Daoud's relief, Fra Tomasso only shut his eyes and shook hishead, his cheeks quivering gently like a bowl of frumenty. "God forgivethe Tartars."
"God will certainly not forgive _us_, Fra Tomasso, if we help theTartars to destroy Damascus and Cairo. Or Trebizond and Constantinople."
The Dominican opened his eyes wide. "Constantinople?"
"In the Far East they have taken greater cities and conquered muchlarger empires."
Fra Tomasso crossed himself. "But it is God's will, even as Augustinetells us, that cities be destroyed and empires rise and fall. TheTartars may be the builders of a Christian empire that embraces thewhole world."
_God forbid it!_ Daoud was becoming exasperated with the fat Dominican's"perhapses" and "maybes." _Perhaps the earth moves and the sun standsstill. Maybe the Tartars are God's means of making the whole worldChristian._
He warned himself not to let his anger show. This might seem to be apleasant conversation, but actually he was tiptoeing around the edge ofa pit of quicksand.
Still, if this clever, restless mind could be recruited to work againstthe alliance, how persuasive it would be. Daoud had already noticed thatmos
"Your Reverence, truly we must accept as the will of God that which hashappened. But to think we can guess what God wills for the future issinful pride. We can be guided only by the knowledge of right and wrongHe has implanted in us."
D'Aquino let his folded hands rest on the great sphere of his belly. Hisblue eyes gazed off at a point somewhere behind Daoud, whose musclestightened as he waited for the friar to speak. He watched through theopen window as a flock of crows circled in the deep-blue sky. They chosea 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 thelast crow disappeared.
"That is well stated," said Fra Tomasso. "I can find no objection tothat."
Elated, Daoud pressed on. "And it follows that if we think the Tartardestruction of civilization is wrong, we must fight against it." Hehoped he did not sound too eager. D'Aquino would surely be suspicious ifhe saw how badly Daoud wanted his cooperation.
"I will have to consider that," said Fra Tomasso judiciously. "Butperhaps we could teach the Tartars the value of civilization. If we madeallies of them, we could make it a condition that they not destroy anymore of the great cities of the Muslim world. Indeed, our missionarieswill be among them. They can point out what should be saved."
Daoud's breathing quickened as rage rumbled up inside him. It soundedexactly as if Fra Tomasso meant that the Tartars could slaughter all thepeople of Islam as long as they left the libraries intact. Using theHashishiyya technique called "the Face of Steel within the Mask ofClay," he walled off his anger.
He would not contradict Fra Tomasso's last idea. He would try instead tomake the beginning of a bargain.
"Those libraries of Trebizond you asked me about," Daoud said. "I amsure there are many books in them that exist nowhere else in the world.Perhaps even the book you mentioned, that rare book of Aristotle. Wouldyou write down its name for me, Fra Tomasso? I will inquire about it inmy next report to my trading partners."
The Dominican leaned forward until most of his belly disappeared belowthe horizon of his desk. In that position he was able to pull the deskcloser and search it for a blank slip of parchment. He dipped his quillceremoniously in his inkpot, wrote briefly, then carefully poured finewhite sand from a jar to absorb the excess ink. Daoud rose to take theparchment from him.
_Now, if only such a book exists somewhere in the lands where Baibars'spower runs. And if only the weather on the Middle Sea allows us to getthe book here quickly. And if only it has the effect on Fra Tomasso thatI want._
So many ifs. Far too many. The outcome of a battle would be easier topredict. For the thousandth time Daoud wished he were leading troops inthe field rather than intriguing in the chambers of enemy leaders.
"I understand it will be possible to meet the two Tartars when theContessa 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 Ihave with you." Daoud tensed inwardly as he heard that. "It will beinteresting, 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 theexecution of the heretic who threatened the ambassadors in thecathedral? Will Your Reverence witness that? I understand it should be amost edifying spectacle." He folded Fra Tomasso's bit of parchment andthrust it into the pouch at his belt.
Fra Tomasso shook his head. "The good of the community demands that wemake 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 bethere."
So, thought Daoud contemptuously, the fat Dominican was one of those whocould 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 peaceand never see the consequences of his decision. Daoud might wish to leadtroops in battle, but he reminded himself that it was in studios likethis, where men of influence thought and read and argued, that the realwar was being fought.