Barry Unsworth - The Ruby In Her Navel

This has called into question his God-given right, as he sees it, to be the sword and shield of Christendom in the west. And now here is our King Roger, who took no part in the crusade whatsoever, putting himself forward as the champion of Christianity, in alliance with Louis of France. Conrad has always hated our King as a usurper of his ancestral lands. He will hate him all the more now as a usurper of his imperial prerogatives. Such hatred cannot bode well for us. Then there is the change in the situation of the Arabs, you will have seen that yourself."

I thought for some moments. Yusuf had spoken of this, with a passion unusual in him, but he had been speaking of a gradual process of loss and subjection. Other than this, what was there? I had been so much concerned with myself of late, first there had been Favara and the exchange of promises, then the presenting of the dancers and the turmoil of my feelings for Nesrin, then Potenza and the waiting and the disappointment… "No," I said. "As you know, I have been away a good deal lately."

"Perhaps it is also because you live in a better neighbourhood." He smiled, saying this, to take any suspicion of grievance out of the words. "I mean less mixed," he said. "Here we live cheek by jowl with Arabs, we see them at the markets, we chat together sitting outside our houses in the warm evenings, we use the language of the Cala, which is also mixed – like the people. We bought this house with Maria's dowry and we have lived here for thirty years, since before King Roger was king at all. But now friendship is more difficult for all of us. "

"Why is that?"

"The failure of the crusade, the manner of its failure, was a great humiliation for the Franks, as you know. They cannot avenge that defeat in Syria, where it happened, because they lack the power and the will, at least for the moment. But they can avenge it in a hundred small ways on the Moslems who live among us, who have lived side by side with us all their lives, and know nothing of the Holy Land."

"But that is unjust. Any cases of insult or violence should be reported to the officers of the Royal Diwan and brought before the King's Justiciars."

Stefanos smiled, and there was much affection for me in this smile. He shook his head. "Thurstan, I will say this to you, and it is something I have often thought before and not permitted myself to say because you are in greater authority at the Diwan, but you are young enough to be my son and I wish nothing but your good, so you will not take it amiss. You are too straight a man for the crooked ways they make you walk. It is not that your mind is simple, but you are not pliable, you are too frank in your feelings and open-hearted, you have too much need for belief in those you serve. The need for belief is a mark of innocence, and those who are truly innocent will always remain so, in despite of experience.

It would not be different if you stayed another twenty years in the palace service, except that you would grow always more unhappy as belief became more difficult to maintain. "

"And you?"

"I have never had this need, not since the days of my childhood." A trace of the smile still remained on his face, but his eyes were serious as he regarded me. "The King does not see what happens in the streets of the Cala, should I decline to serve him on that account? Should I lose my stipend and be reduced to beggary because the King closes his eyes?

Even if he saw he would take no heed. Why should he? Does it threaten the peace of the realm or the safety of the throne?"

He paused for a moment and lowered his head, as if taking counsel with himself. When he looked up the accustomed light of irony had returned to his face. He said, "The world is changing, and the King's justice must keep pace. He is always just, naturally, but his justice is exercised on varying objects. Just now it is directed to appearing as the champion of Christendom at home and abroad, strengthening the ties with France and gaining the good will of Pope Eugenius so that his rule may be recognised in Rome. It does not consort with the King's justice at this present time to show clemency towards the Moslems or defend their rights. Rather he will wish to show himself severe towards them."

I was taken aback by these words of his, coming as they did from one who had spent his life in faithful service to the King. He had never spoken in such a way before, some recklessness had come to him, perhaps, I thought, released by his frankness about my qualities of character. I took no exception to this last, because I knew he was swayed by affection for me, though I privately thought myself more sinuous of mind and more versed in the ways of the world than he gave me credit for. But he had spoken of the King as one might speak of any mortal, his tone had verged on disrespect, almost he had impugned the King's constancy…

And now, as I hesitated over my reply, he went even further. "As for these reverend Justiciars," he said, "they will look grave and purse up their lips and put their finger-tips together and then proceed to deliver the judgement that their royal master desires."

"We have known some like that," I said, speaking in haste to forestall more words from him, "but I believe them to be a small number. I have been wondering about the Anatolians. I suppose by now they will be well on the way towards home."

"Well, yes." He was looking at me now with a different expression, as if there were a joke contained in my words. "All but one, that is."

"What do you mean?"

"You did not know? I thought she would have told you she was intending to stay." He smiled suddenly and broadly. "She is a law unto herself, that one. She saw no need to speak of it and so she did not."

A number of feelings contended within me on hearing this news, which was both welcome and not. I felt my life to be difficult enough just at present without Nesrin returning to it. Despite myself, however, an obscure excitement began its climb towards my throat. It was halted, at least for the time, by the sudden memory of her face at the moment of bidding me farewell, that look of absolute composure. Of course she was unmoved – she had never had any smallest intention of leaving! Thinking of this, the effrontery and obstinacy and self-containment of it, and the hidden glee, I felt the cramp of my anxiety loosen and dissolve, and a laugh of pure amusement came from me, the first for many days. "As you truly say, she is a law unto herself. She has been here all the time then? Where is she? What is she doing, dancing in the streets?"

"She is living here, in Palermo. She has taken a room near the Church of the Ammiraglia, above the bottega of the saddle-maker in Via San Cataldo. No, she is not dancing. She is living on her share of the money they received. She has enough to last a year, so she tells me."

"You see her then?"

"I see her four times a week."

I stared at him. "How is that?"

"She comes for lessons in Greek."

"Early in the morning," Maria said. "Before he leaves for the Douana. He wanted to ask only a little for the lesson but she found out the price that is paid and made him take it. How she found this out I do not know.

She comes on foot through the streets. I make an infusion of mint and honey for her and she has a little bread or sometimes a piece of the cake with cherries and walnuts that my mother taught me how to make. She does not eat enough, she is like a bird. I tell her to take another piece of the cake but she will not."

"She asked me not to tell you about the lessons," Stefanos said. "I am not sure why. Perhaps she wanted to surprise you. Well, I have told you now."

"So it is quite some time that she has been coming?"

"Since the King left for Salerno and the dancing was delayed."

I remembered now that I had noticed an improvement in her Greek the night we had lain together, when we were talking beforehand, but I had not remarked on it, being too much taken with desire for her.