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wealth and many ships.
Ibn-Haram no doubt intended to hold Aziza as hostage to keep ibn-Sharaz and
William II out of the picture. Feet shuffled softly in the Court of Oranges,
and easing from the crowd, I stood in the shade of the orange trees, inhaling
the perfume of the blossoms and watching the crowd from under my brows, my
head lowered.
Aziza was no fool. In all ofSpain , perhaps in all ofEurope , there was no
place so easy to lose oneself as here, at this hour.
A gentle hand touched my sleeve, and it was she. Her dark eyes looked into
mine, and I wanted to take her in my arms, to forget the place, the time, the
danger. "Do not look at me like that!" she protested, in a whisper. "You
frighten me!" But if the look in her eyes was fear, I could wish that all
women would be so frightened.
"How else could I look at you? You are beautiful!"
"We cannot stay here."
"Where is Redwan?"
"I do not know. He is a prisoner. I know not where."
Soldiers appeared at the outer gate. There were four ... six ... eight.
Not seeming to hurry, I took Aziza's arm and stepped into the shuffling
throng. Within the temple was a long vista of arches and columns, shadowed and
still but for the rustling of garments.
Across the mosque was a door, a very small door not often used, but one I had
located before this, recognizing its possibilities. Escaping the crowd, we
slipped through the door to the small garden beyond. Across it, then out in a
public park.
We moved sedately then, yet I was thinking as we walked. It was unlikely my
connection with ibn-Tuwais was known. Mahmoud knew of it, and Haroun, but if I
could get there, horses would be available, and I had scouted several escape
routes through the alleys of the city.
Past the stalls of sellers of incense, past the merchants of silk, past the
astrologers and seers, we turned a corner into an empty, high-walled street
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where nothing moved but the wind, nothing loitered but the shadows.
Ibn-Tuwais greeted us and led us into the house. "You need explain nothing.
This house was built in a time of trouble."
We followed to an inner chamber. He turned sharply in an alcove and leaned
hard against the wall. The wall swung soundlessly inward, revealing a dark,
narrow stair. "It has been used before this." He handed me a candle. "You will
find food and wine."
When Aziza had taken the candle and gone down the stairs, the old man
whispered, "It was near here where she disappeared, and they have begun a
search of the entire quarter. You must remain until the search is completed.
"But" he had started to walk away "if anything happens to me there is a
passage behind the wall. It opens in the same way and leads beyond the walls.
When you leave the passage ride to theCastleofOthman . It is a ruin inhabited
only by owls. You may hide there until you can escape."
"How can we ride?"
"The passage is for horses. It was made for sorties by cavalry. There is an
entrance from within our stable, and your horses have already been taken
below. There is food for them and for you, and a spring flows through a
channel there. If necessary, you could remain hidden for weeks, but I would
not advise it."
He paused, then his eyes hardened. "You are not a Moslem, but you have a lady
in your care, a very important lady. If it should chance that she is harmed in
any way, it would mean both your lives."
"Hers too?"
"Hers most of all. She would be killed, without question. Guard yourself, and
her as well."
He hesitated again. "If circumstances permit you to return, my house is
yours, always."
"At theCastleofOthman ? There is a place to hide?"
His detail of the ruin was quick, explicit, and with military efficiency.
"Quickly now! You must go!"
The door closed behind me, and I descended the steep stairs in darkness.
Aziza had removed her veil and was placing food and wine upon the low table.
Above us there was a dull sound like the slam of a heavy door, only louder. I
drew my sword and turned to face the stair. Nothing.
Had I brought trouble to ibn-Tuwais? What had happened?
Aziza pointed to the table. "Eat," she said. "We must be ready when night
comes."
We ate in silence. Of what she thought I know not, but I was brooding about
the old man up there. Had I brought torture and death to one I so admired and
loved? Yet I could not return to help. To reveal myself now would prove what
might be only suspected.
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Packs lay upon the floor, for it seemed ibn-Tuwais had considered everything.
He knew what I was about, and where his sympathies lay. After all, he too was
an enemy of Yusuf.
Upon a low table were piles of books. Ibn-Tuwais had expected trouble and had
moved his precious library here. InParis such books might buy a province, or a
bishopric. The packs themselves contained food and four books. Obviously, he
wished me to have them.
"Sleep," I told Aziza, "for with night we must go." When she lay down I
covered her with a robe. It had been early afternoon when we reached the house
of ibn-Tuwais. Say four hours of waiting, another hour to travel the passage
to a place beyond the wall, and we could emerge in darkness.
From the stack of books I chose one, a translation from far-off Cathay,Essays
of the Dream Poolby Shen Kua.
A long time later when the candle's length indicated the time had passed, I
replaced the book among the others. Someday, perhaps, I would complete it.
Aziza awakened at my touch and, rising, took up a fresh candle and lighted
it. Shouldering the packs, I followed her along the passage. The horses stood
waiting, saddled and ready in their underground stable. Mounting, we rode
through the passage toward the outer walls of the city.
The top cleared my head by only a few inches, some of it carved from solid
rock. Several times we rode through small pools of water, and once for several
hundred yards we rode along a stream of clear, cold water.
The passage ended abruptly. We faced a slab of rock; beside it was a lever of
bronze. The work here looked like no work of Moor, Goth, or Phoenician, nor
had I seen its like before. I thought of the Idol of Cadiz ... by the same
hands, perhaps?
Dismounting, I lay hold of the lever. An instant I paused, and then I pulled
down. Nothing happened.
Our eyes met in the candlelight. Suppose it would not open? Were we trapped,
then?
Waiting an instant, I mustered all my strength, swinging my weight on the
lever. Slowly, sluggishly, it yielded. The great slab of rock swung slowly [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]