Barry Unsworth - The Ruby In Her Navel

By a trick of reflection from one of the mirrors I saw, in a narrow band of light, the cheated Esau stretching his bow to shoot a white dove.

Both of the men working there glanced down at me at the same moment, perhaps hearing my steps, or seeing some movement of my shadow, but now I myself heard steps, and as I came into the crossing I saw Abbot Gerbert, whom I had watched earlier that day in talk with Atenulf, emerge from the southern chapel, and with him two others unknown to me, both in monastic habit As they came into the Sanctuary they made shadows which shifted in a way that seemed strange to me, without my knowing why, but this I took for some trick that the light was playing; mirror reflections and shadows were shifting constantly there.

In any case it was an impression that passed quickly, because Gerbert paused to greet me and I was both surprised and gratified to discover that he knew who I was, a churchman of such rank – there were those who spoke of him as soon to be appointed Rector of the Papal enclave of Benevento, and he must therefore have friends at the Roman Curia. It was the more flattering as he had not been long in Palermo and as far as I knew had had no dealings with the Diwan of Control, though of course there were some who came there without my knowing.

He spoke in German to his companions, mentioning my name and, as I supposed, also the place I held, and they inclined their heads. "These are two from the community of Groze on the Moselle, where I spent many years as a monk," he said. "I brought them to see the wonderful work that is being done here, so they can tell their brothers of it when they return, which is soon now. They had hoped to celebrate our Lord's Ascension in the royal presence before leaving, and I had obtained permission for them, but it was not to be."

"Why is that?"

"You have not heard?" He looked at me with raised eyebrows. "There has been a change. His Majesty will not be attending the liturgy. He leaves early tomorrow for Troina, where there is a dispute over the investiture of the Bishop that urgently needs his presence. You were not told of this?"

"No."

"We knew of it some hours ago. Perhaps the douana in which you serve omitted to inform you. You should come to work for us, in the Office of the Capellanus, we would know how to value you."

It was said lightly enough, and the words were accompanied by a smile, but there was something disquieting in it that remained with me after they had passed and moved away down the nave towards the west door. He had taken good care to let me see his surprise…

Still thinking of this, I took some steps forward. I was standing now at the centre of the Sanctuary, looking towards the northern chapel, at the arched alcove of the King's loge, set high in the inner wall, where he sat when he came to hear the liturgy, screened from the view of those below by the marble wall of the balustrade. None would see him arrive here and none would see him leave; he came from within the palace by means of the covered gallery that led from his apartments. Once again I tried to bring the King's life to my mind, and this time, perhaps because I was alone there and close below his viewing place and surrounded by the emblems of his glory and majesty, I succeeded better.

He would approach by the covered passage, which was narrow, too narrow to admit anyone to walk at his side – those favoured would walk behind him. Once seated there, he would see the images of his kingship on every hand. I raised my head to look up at the vault as he would see it, the scene of the Ascension, the Apotheosis of Christ, to which his own destiny as earthly ruler was linked. Glancing to his left, towards the eastern wall of the chapel, he would see the standing figure of the Virgin and Child, Guardians and Protectors. Looking straight before him across the nave towards the southern chapel… But here my attention was distracted, I was again aware of moving shadows on the south side of the crossing, a rapid flitting that passed over the marbles of the floor like a bird's wings or faint ripples on the surface of water.

So strong was this sense of movement that I turned to look back down the nave, as if in expectation of figures approaching, but there was no one.

And in that brief time of looking away all had again become still. The shadows lay over the marble, unmoving; all was calm and golden. Then I was lost amidst the paths of light and stood there for a time I did not measure. It was the sound of hammering that roused me from this: there was a man standing on a plank laid across two trestles and driving a nail into a joint of the wall on a part of the nave arcade where no mosaic had been laid yet, so as to make a firm base for the mortar. I called up to the two who were working on the platform above me, asking them where I could find Demetrius, but the hammering was loud, they did not hear. I thought that if he were anywhere there at all, he would be in the workshop alongside the chapel, and it was here that I found him, supervising the preparation of the mortar that was to be applied to the section of the wall where the man was driving in the nails.

He greeted me in friendly fashion, with no sign of ill-feeling. I asked him if he knew that the King's plans had changed and he said, yes, he had been told, not more than an hour before. "It was because I learned of this," he said, "that I set the fellow on to drive in the nails.

Otherwise there is too much dust, and it takes too long for the air to clear, and the dust clings to the pieces and takes from their lustre. I did not wish my lord the King to have a bad impression of our work when he came to hear the liturgy."

I seemed to detect something almost of sarcasm in his tone, though I might have been mistaken in this. "The man driving in the nails," I said, "is he one of the newcomers?"

"He is one of those that have come now, but he is only employed to make the frame."

"You will lay the mortar this evening then?"

"Yes, we will have short hours of sleep tonight, we must have the bed ready for the setting of the pieces by early morning. It is the scene of the building of the Tower of Babel on the arcade of the nave. We will take it by stages, as always; tomorrow will be the beginning. Since the King will not be present, we have leave for our work to continue through the day."

"It will take many days, will it not? I am happy to think you will stay in Palermo for the time that is needed."

"Well, there are figures in it, and that needs more changes of colour in a lesser space. There are the workmen at their tasks of building, there are people watching, grouped together." He smiled and widened his eyes as he did so, a habit I had always found engaging in him, seeming to hint at an exciting prospect suddenly perceived. "It will be the last thing before we go. To be frank with you, now I have had time to reflect, I will not be sorry to leave Sicily. We are not welcome here.

The moment I step outside these walls, I cease to be Karamides an artist in mosaic, I become Karamides a Byzantine sailor taking part in the siege of Corfu, an island formerly belonging by divine right to the Byzantine empire, now by divine right belonging to the Kingdom of Sicily."

"It should surprise no one that there is hostility to the Byzantine," I said, "in view of the Imperial Edicts you send out from Constantinople denigrating our King." These words came stiffly from me, in spite of my wish for ease between us; I had not liked the way he spoke of divine right as if it belonged to both and therefore to neither, when anyone who looked at a map could see that the possession of Corfu was necessary to Sicily for control of the Adriatic.

His smile had gone now, and he shook his head as he looked at me. "What Edicts are these that I send out from Constantinople while fully occupied with the mosaics in Palermo?"