The Ruby In Her Navel

XVI

The place of Assembly was an antechamber of the palace, adjoining the main hall. Here Bertrand and his Lady – who it seemed would join the hunt – awaited their guests in company with two huntsmen. Adhemar was there already and he smiled at me and I returned the smile, but I knew him now for an enemy. Of Alboino there was no sign.

When all who would take part were gathered, the huntsmen began to advance their separate claims. Each had followed the spoor of a deer with his bloodhounds and discovered the harbour, or resting place, of the beast and marked it for the morrow. They spoke in turn and earnestly: he whose deer was chosen would be paid in coin and receive some share of the meat. It was for this reason that, even though his punishment would be severe if the company were disappointed, a huntsman sometimes overpraised his deer, and so the questioning had to be careful. Neither man had viewed his quarry, but they assured us, from the height of the traces left by the antlers, that each was a hart of ten. On this point they were very definite and for the reason we all knew well: with less than ten tines on the head a hart was not judged ready to be hunted with dogs.

This discussion of the relative merits of the deer was elaborate and protracted as always, and as always it was conducted in French. No matter how long the Normans had lived in Sicily they used the language of their forebears when talking of the hunt. Each man, by courtesy of the host, was allowed a question if he so chose. Bertrand did me the honour of inviting me to ask the third question, after his own and that of the favoured quest, and this was a knight of very high estate, a nephew of Count Theobald of Blois. This courtesy I put down to Alicia's commendation of me – it could hardly be due to my own standing in such a company as this. My question, fortunately, was already prepared. I enquired into the depth of the impressions made by the feet and knees when the beast rose from its bed – an important matter this, as it indicates the weight. After I had thus played my part and showed myself no stranger to the business, I regret to say that I began to lose interest, especially as we now entered upon a long discussion concerning the width of foot, each huntsman eagerly showing, with fingers laid side by side, the flattening of the grass where his beast had trod.

There was a line of pillars along the side of the room opposite the entrance; they were of the kind known as serpentine, very slender, with a rope of marble winding round from pedestal to capital, so that the whole pillar took the form of a twining snake, this too the work of Saracen masons, perhaps made, I thought, in the days of Yusuf's ancestor, he who had been vizir to the Emir Jafar, who built this palace and was the first to make a lake round it. And as I followed these snakes of marble up to the Arabic characters inscribed in the capitals, then down again to the low pediment, in sinuous, unceasing lines, I remembered Yusuf's face as he spoke of his forebears, the pride and sorrow in it, and then I remembered his anger when I had compared his people to the Serbs. He had spoken on a tide of feeling, something very rare in him; he had spoken of rebellion and civil war, dangerous words for any man to speak, however highly placed… I drifted from this to thoughts of the guileful Serpent twining round the Tree, and the honeyed words that had brought our first parents to exile and sorrow, till Christ came to redeem us from that sin and hold out to us the promise of eternal life. The hart was the symbol of this, because God gave to the hart the ability to renew itself. When it has lived for thirty-two years it is driven by its nature to seek out an anthill, which it then destroys by trampling upon it. Below this anthill there is found a white snake, which the hart kills and devours. It then goes to a desert place and throws off its flesh and becomes young again, and this signifies the soul's discarding of the body as it enters into purgatory and so prepares for eternal life.

I was roused from this half-dreaming state by being asked my opinion as to the merits and defects of the excrement of the two animals. The huntsmen had brought specimens of these fumées, as they were called, and we gathered wisely round a table to compare them. This also requires a great deal of study, the points of comparison being in the thickness of the turd, its length, and the hardness of its consistency. The palm was finally awarded, the defeated huntsman took himself disconsolately off and the victor was told to have his lymers ready for the next day.

After this I set off again to look for Alicia, but did not find her, and supposed she would be resting; she would not venture much into this hot sun of afternoon. I thought of her fairness, the pale brows: she had taken care to keep her face from burning in Jerusalem, and so she would do here.

I found my own chamber very sweetly smelling when I returned to it; in my absence they had come and strewn the floor with dried mint, and I think other herbs mingled with it. I lay on the bed and thought of the events of the day and became drowsy as I did so, so that impressions were jumbled together and lost all order of sequence, the turning mirrors, the servitude of the brass Saracens, the false smiles of Adhemar and the sad eyes of the Abbot, the strange distortions of the shadows on the walls, Alicia waiting for me in the shade of the pavilion, the kisses we had exchanged – I seemed to feel them still on my lips. I remembered the change in her face as I tried to speak my gratitude, and how for a moment she had seemed at a loss, perhaps unsure whether she should confide in me. She had seemed afraid as she spoke of her brother and his spying. But that brief look on her face, when she had raised her fingers to my lips to prevent me from speaking, that had been more like distress than fear. Pale hands, pale as ivory… some words that might be the beginning of a song came to my mind.

Her honour and her good shall be my care.

I am her liege-man and her lover.

Wherever I may be…

Her liege-man and her lover, her lover and her liege-man. Which had the best fall? The first was more lyrical, the second had more weight on the end syllable… Before this problem could be solved I drifted into sleep and lay lost to the world while the sun waned and sank and the evening came and the light softened. There were already the first grainings of dark in the air when I descended, and I saw that fires were already burning on the farther shore of the lake.

These fires it was possible to reach in one of two ways, I was informed by the chamberlain, who seemed to be permanently stationed in the hall below: I could leave the island by means of the causeway, then make my way on foot round the edge of the lake until reaching the fires; or, if preferred, there were little pleasure-boats, I could paddle across. I said I would prefer the latter, and a gardener's boy was summoned to show me where the boats were. Only three now remained, moored at a little landing-stage, though this sometimes stretched away and the boats were multiplied, according to the swing of the mirrors, invisible from here, the sunlight no longer betraying their presence. If one lived long on this island, I thought, one would lose for ever the capacity to trust in anything, even in one's own senses. Or perhaps one would simply become wary as to where he set his foot. There were zones that were free from these bewildering reflections, like the gardens surrounding the pavilion and the pavilion itself, but it was not possible to know where the borders were. One step farther and the world stretched and yawned and the distinction between the one and the many was lost.

The paddle-boats were built for calm water, with gilded prows and cushioned seats. They were small, yes, but quite big enough for two, and it was now that a certain idea came to me: if I could make myself master of one of these boats and prevent it from being taken by anyone else, it might provide the means of having Alicia to myself for a while, and defeating Adhemar's vigilance.

With this thought in mind, I did not paddle my boat directly to the mooring posts on the opposite shore, but tied it to a waterside tree at some distance away, then scrambled ashore and made my way on foot through the trees to where the fires were burning and the people were gathering. Tables had been set up and there was a smell of roasting meat. I took a place, and bread was brought to me, and soon after a cut from the breast of a duck was brought on a dish, and this was very tender and good, the bird had been well chosen and turned long on the spit. The wine-cup came round to me, made of silver and very deep in the bowl so that it was heavy and had to be raised with both hands. I drank and passed the cup to my neighbour, a knight I had met that morning and who had been at the Assembly. We spoke together for a while about the clearness of the night weather, the promising starlight, and the prospects for the hunt next day. As we were speaking a minstrel came forward and sat facing us with the firelight on his face. He struck some notes on his viele and began with a song of King Arthur, singing in French, a good strong voice and perfect in the words. My neighbour told me that this was Renart the Jongleur, the famous singer who travelled and performed in many places and was welcomed in the houses of the great, and could sing in Breton and Provencal and Latin with equal ease.

He had been brought here by our host for this occasion. Now I too knew many songs and could accompany myself on the viele; I listened carefully to this singer and it seemed to me – nay, I knew it – that my own voice was the equal of his in its range and tone. "He has a good horse and a full purse," my neighbour said. "He goes from one court to another. If he complains of mean treatment he brings shame to the one he complains of, and so he is always treated well."

"Well," I said, "generosity is a virtue, however it comes about."

I was constantly looking around for a sight of Alicia but did not see her. This distraction made me a little inattentive to the young knight's words – he was younger than I, he looked no more than twenty. He was speaking of Bertrand's patronage of him and how this had advanced him and how Bertrand believed that those of Norman blood should be united, since only if they spoke with one voice would the King see their loyalty and devotion, and bring them closer to him, and send away the false counsellors that surrounded him.

I answered him as best I could – these were views I had heard before.

After a while longer, with some friendly words about our riding together next day, he quitted the table. I was rising to do the same when Abbot Alboino came and took a place on my other side, obliging me to resume my seat.

He asked about my activities of the day and listened and nodded with head inclined, in the same kindly but very serious manner I had noticed in him that morning. I did not speak of my meeting with Alicia in the pavilion and if he knew of this he gave no sign. "I was hoping to have some talk with you," he said. "As I told you this morning, my niece has spoken of you in very high terms. You were childhood friends, were you not?"

He was looking closely at me as he spoke. Once again I was struck by the sorrowing expression of his eyes. I could not tell if this was feeling in them or an accident of their setting. It was as if they testified to a life quite different from the one that was lived by his body – he had twice my years but he was robust and confident in his bearing. It came to me that he was inviting my confidence, while at the same time knowing more than his words suggested. "I was heartbroken when she left to be married," I said. "I was sixteen, no longer such a child." I took care to smile and say these words lightly, so that it could still seem an extravagance of childhood.

"Well," he said, "you are a fine upstanding fellow now, and so you must have been at sixteen. But the dangers that beset the soul are greater now."

He was still regarding me with the same attention. I saw his mouth draw together as at some sharp taste. Perhaps it was this impression of bitterness in him that made me think by contrast of Hugo the Spy and his taste for honey cakes. "Children know wickedness too," I said. "But I suppose the temptations are fewer and more simple."

"That was not my meaning. I was speaking of you, your situation."

For a moment I thought he might be referring to the attraction that Alicia had shown for me. He could not but know that she had exerted herself to have me invited here. He had eyes in his head, he had watched, he must have seen the glances we exchanged. And in any case he must have wanted to take a look at me. It might have been for this that he had come to Favara – he had not been at the Assembly, so did not intend to take part in the hunt. There was power in him, both when he spoke and when he was silent; it came from him like an emanation. Alicia too must feel this power… "Lord Abbot," I said, "I have no ill intentions in regard to your niece, I beg you will believe this." A lump had formed in my throat, and I paused before speaking again to swallow it down. "If it rested with me, she would be kept safe for ever."

"I have no doubts of that," he said. "Though it is true that Alicia causes me concern, as she does also to her brother. She is self-willed, but she lacks guile or even great caution in bringing her ends about.

This could be used to her harm."

It seemed to me he judged her wrongly; guile and caution she had possessed in large measure already at fourteen, who should know that better than I? "Used to her harm? You mean by others?"

Darkness had fallen as we talked. Behind us men came with armfuls of dry tinder and heaped the fires so that they blazed up, and in this stronger light I saw the Abbot's face half turned away, the high brow and firm mouth and strong chin. Despite the sad look of the eyes, it was the face of one who knew his way through the thickets and marshes of this world.

He had left my last question unanswered. After a short silence, during which the voice of the jongleur still sounded, though now from farther away, he said, "No, I meant your situation at the Douana, the fact that you are at the orders of a Moslem, you rub shoulders with Moslems, day by day you are subject to the influence of their religion."

For some moments it seemed to me that he might almost be joking, so very gentle and equable was the voice he used. But the face he turned to me now had no joking in it. "No one of good Christian family can find that acceptable," he said.

"But I am not subject to the influence of their religion. I do not discuss religion in my work at the… Diwan."

"Does not Yusuf Ibn Mansur quote passages from the Koran? Does he not use the name of his god in your hearing? Do you think a human soul is lost at one stroke? Day by day, the touch of wrong, so you become habituated, you grow callous. That is what destroys the soul."

"But he does not quote from his book more than we are accustomed to quote from ours, or name his god more than we."

"Young man, what are you saying? I see that already there has been a deadening of the soul. Do you put them on a level, his blasphemies and our Holy Writ? So one doctrine is as good as another, so long as there is faith? Any noxious plant can grow so long as those who tend it are devout? Do you not know that devotion can pervert the soul if the object of it is mistaken?" He turned his face from me and remained for a while in silence, shaking his head slowly. "The weeds spread and choke our garden," he said, in a voice hardly louder than a murmur, as if speaking only to himself. "We cannot live with Islam, we must root it out, it is a pernicious weed in our garden."

He turned to look at me and said in a stronger voice, "Our garden is Christendom, Thurstan, this great movement of our Latin Church that has grown in power for a century now, to bring salvation and peace and order under the spiritual authority of the Pope, who unites us in bonds of faith. That movement, that authority, knows only one truth, not several living side by side. In our garden of Christendom all compromise is corruption."

For some moments I could find no way of answering him. I felt myself in the grip of dilemma. Our King chose Saracens for his companions, preferring them to Normans for their learning; he trusted his Saracen troops to defend him and they had proved loyal; much of the Royal Diwan was in the hands of Saracen officials. It seemed to me that if the King kept this balance it was because he recognised more than one truth, and knew that the security of the realm depended on this recognition, it kept him afloat on his silver barge, and I, as his faithful servant, was bound in duty to uphold this view. But I could see that any talk of balance or silver barges or strife below the surface would not be welcome to Alboino, and I was afraid of offending him, afraid that he would speak ill of me to Alicia, and so incline her away from me when I was not there to speak in my own defence.

"My Lord Abbot, I will ponder the matter," was all that in the end I could find to say.

"Ponder it well. And ponder also this: If the Saracen is our enemy in Syria and Palestine, how can he be our friend in Palermo? Is it not the same beast?"

I promised to add this to the things to be considered. Then, in order to change discourse, and remembering that Alicia had said he came from Rome, I asked him whether his coming had been recent and whether he would stay long. And with these questions of mine he relaxed the severity of his manner, and seemed glad to tell me something of himself.

He belonged to the Cistercian Order, and had spent some years at the Papal Curia, where he had been sent at the behest of the head of the order, Bernard of Clairvaux, to work for the moving of a new Crusade, against Byzantium now, whose treachery was blamed for the loss of Edessa and the failed siege of Damascus. But the King of the Germans, Conrad, had shown a lamentable lack of Christian fervour and declined the venture, and in view of this Pope Eugenius had abandoned the idea and sent Alboino to Sicily, recommending him to King Roger, who had appointed him head of the Monastery of the Trinitr in Palermo.

All this was interesting enough, but it left one question unanswered.

Why Sicily? King Roger might be asked to furnish ships and provisions for a new crusade, but no one would want him for an active partner, it would be too dangerous: he still laid claim to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, through his mother Adelaide. Something else had induced Eugenius to send the abbot here and I was casting about in my mind for some way of discovering this when I suddenly saw Alicia, in the company of her brother, standing near the fire that was farthest from us; it seemed to me that they had come through the trees from where the minstrel was singing. At once, all thoughts left my head save only one, and that was my strategy with the boat.

The darkness of the trees was behind her, but she was full in the firelight and clearly visible to me, from the gold net in her hair to the slender feet below the hem of her red gown. This suddenness of her appearance by the fire and the not seeing her approach took my breath for a moment, making her seem like an apparition, summoned by my desire, the dwelling of my mind on her.

They came towards us and we rose to greet them. I spoke the polite words and returned the smiles, and we stood there, the four of us, talking together – though to say truth I spoke very little and have no memory of the words. I had reached a stage of awareness of Alicia's presence that made me scarcely dare to look at her when others were by, for fear the force of my feeling would create some material sign, a bolt of light, or a burst of flame that would envelope us.

I could not long remain where I was, in any case; my presence among them was the chief impediment to my hopes; while I was in Adhemar's company I certainly would not succeed in seeing Alicia alone. So after some further talk I made as if I was retiring, bade them good night and walked a little way off towards the place where I had left my boat.

I did not go far, only into the darkness of the trees. From here I could watch without being seen, as they were still in the light of the fires.

Servants with lighted lanterns were waiting at the little jetty where the boats were moored, which made me fear that people might be returning to the palace before long, and Alicia with them, constrained by her brother and uncle. I waited there and watched and hoped – it was all I could do. For some time they stood talking together. Then – miracle of miracles! – the two men withdrew together, though they did not speak any farewells, or take definite leave, as far as I could tell; it was as if they were intending shortly to return. I thought perhaps they had gone to relieve themselves. Alicia remained alone and took some steps towards the moored boats and some steps back towards the fires.

It was my chance, the only one I might have. I went through the trees towards her. I came into the open and Alicia saw me and paused a moment then walked towards me. I took a lantern from one of the men waiting there, and holding this in one hand I held out the other to her. When I would have led her into the cover of the trees she held back, but I told her that the boat was there, not far away, and I begged her to give me her company, if only for a little time, to let me be with her when no one else was by, and at these words she resisted no longer but followed behind me as I held the lantern up to show the way.

The place where I had left the boat had not been well chosen: there was no secure stepping place on to it from the shore. I had to bring it close and help her on to it while holding up the lantern so she could see where she was setting her feet. In order successfully to achieve this I was obliged to go over my knees in the water and she was concerned and said that now I would be wet and uncomfortable and it would be her fault. But her hand was on my shoulder and mine rested a moment against the small of her back as she got on the boat, and I felt heat not chill and this I told her and she laughed and said my name in a tone that lay between remonstrance and tenderness and my heart expanded to hear her say it thus. Nevertheless, I was thankful that it had not befallen at a time when I was wearing my new hunting clothes.

The boat had two narrow benches. She took one and sat facing me while I seated myself on the other and took up the paddle, which had only one blade and so had to be used from side to side. The lantern we set between us. There was no breath of wind; the surface of the water was still and dark, no faintest tremor on it as it stretched away across the lake. The ripples and rings of earlier, when there had still been light, insects skating on the surface, fish rising, were gone now. The light from the lantern was cast upward over her bosom and face, and white moths came out of the shadows of the bank to flutter against the flame.

I paddled out into the open water, taking the moths with us, aware of nothing for the moment but her face before me and the need not to shed a single drop of water on her as I crossed the paddle from one side to the other. As we moved out towards the middle of the lake, I had the feeling that together she and I were entering a territory altogether new, a place from which we would not emerge unchanged. I brought in the paddle and the boat drifted round, following some current of the water imperceptible on the calm surface.

I began now, as my exhilaration subsided, to see some disadvantages in this boat. I could only look at Alicia, I could not touch her. At the most, leaning forward, I could have laid my hand on her knee, but such a gesture could have had no sequel, would moreover seem grotesque, as if I were about to offer some ponderous advice, like a wise elder. Closer than that, without much care on my part and extreme docility on hers – and it was too soon for that – I could not get, without risking to send us both overboard, the boat being too light and shallow, too easily overturned. Always, always, there was some impediment. The time was short, there was a journey to make, Adhemar might be watching. And now this closeness and farness of her…

As the boat moved in its slow arc I saw the turrets and domes of the palace outlined against the sky and the cluster of lanterns at the landing stage. The fires must have been replenished, the light from them lay red across the water, reaching almost to the opposite shore. A boat with a lantern at its prow was crossing the water and it passed through this reflection of the fire and the lantern was not reddened but silvered by it.

"We must not stay long," she said, thus unwittingly adding to my discontent.

"When will we have time for ourselves," I said, "without some one watching, someone waiting?"

"Soon now, my love. We must be patient."

This came in the deeper, surer tone of the woman she had become, but the soft endearment and the ceaseless need for patience before the tyranny of time had all the essence of our early love, and memories of this came flooding back to me now and it was as if nothing had changed: the night that surrounded us, this boat in which we drifted on the dark water, seemed no different from an obscure corner in the castle of Richard of Bernalda, one of the many where we had met and kissed and made our promises. I spoke words of love to her now as I had then, and now, as then, the fullness of my heart made the words stumbling. I vowed my service of patience to her. I was her knight, I said, she had made me so by her touch on my head. I would show my service in patience. Was not patience in devotion the quality of a true knight?

"You will be my true knight before the world," she said. "You will be my husband, if you so desire. When next we meet it will be to exchange our vows and make our betrothal known. Now we must return, I must rejoin my uncle and brother. They will be wondering what has befallen me."

So calmly uttered had these words been that I had obediently taken up the paddle before the promise in them came fully home to me. When it did so I could find no words but those of adoration, and these came in a rush. As I swung the little boat round and headed for the fires that were still blazing at the lakeside, my exultation knew no bounds, I blessed the sky and the water, the very night itself, for my good fortune, and as I did so, at that same moment, we crossed in our boat some invisible line and entered the territory of the mirrors: the leaping fires and the lanterns clustered at the landing stage and those on the boats returning to the palace and the shifting reflections of all these on the water and even the drops from my paddle that were caught in the starlight, all began to wheel and tilt and multiply and stretch away, rank upon rank, into a distance that seemed infinite, the heat haze above the fires shimmered over the water and a multitude of boats trembled in this heat and the ripples of it played like a soundless music on the turrets and towers of the palace and suddenly, between one thrust of the paddle and the next, I saw an exact copy of Alicia sitting behind me, somewhere on the water, her bosom and face illuminated.

An exclamation of wonder rose to my lips at this celebration of my happiness – for so I took it to be. But it was never uttered, because Alicia had made no sound at all and her face had not changed, nor her posture on the seat, and so I knew that she could not have seen this spectacle, only I had seen it, it was I who had my face towards the turning mirrors.

It may seem strange to one who reads this, as it sometimes seems strange to me when I recall it, that I made no mention to Alicia of the tricks my eyes played me. I could have done so, though briefly, as we drew nearer to the fires. Perhaps I was unwilling that such a difference should be declared at a moment when all else united us in joyful thoughts of the future. And then, there was so little time: this riotous breeding of images was short-lived, we were soon again in the world I knew. I would tell her another time, I thought, I would tell when we were next together. Once we had made our vows public we would have more time together and more freedom in our talk.

I did not bring the boat as far as the jetty, but grounded it higher up on the shore and this time it was an easy step from the boat to the land and so I got no second wetting as I helped her out. I would have walked with her and lighted the way but she did not wish it. "There is light enough," she said. "It is not far." She turned to face me, still in the shadow of the trees. She raised her hands and brought them together in a gesture that seemed at first like prayer. "I leave you my ring," she said, "as an earnest of my love, until the time we can be together."

I slipped the ring from the little finger of my left hand and I swore my love and service to her and we exchanged the rings.

"I told you true when I said you are splendid," she said in low tones.

"You will always be so. You will always be my splendid Thurstan."

She came into my arms and kissed me and her body pressed against mine and somewhere in my stomach I felt a movement like a fish leaping. Then she was gone through the trees to where the boats and the lanterns waited.