the Walking Drum (1984) (15 page)

The opening was a mere crack in the rock cleverly utilized and masked by brush and roots. The lever itself had folded back into the crack, and even now I had to look carefully to detect it. With gentle fingers I rearranged the vines, moss, and leaves we had disturbed.

"However did you find this place?" We were in the copse, the very place I had studied as a possibility.

"I'd seen you looking at this place, and I have lived in several castles, not only the one in Palermo. Such places as this were used. What you could not see from where we were is that a part of the copse is right below the wall; you were looking at a place further away. The trees disappear for part of its length, then there's another patch of them.

"You were gone so long I was frightened. I started down the steps after you. I called and called, but there was no response, so I went back before I had gone far. I was afraid you would come looking and find me gone. Then on the second morning-"

"Thewhat?"

"Oh, Mathurin! Didn't you know? You have been down there two days and a night!"

Down there in the darkness, how could one know? How long had I sat on the step in the darkness? Had I slept? How long had I been on the steps, feeling my way down, sometimes with long pauses while my feet or hands explored for resting places? My hunger now told me what she said was true, a thing forgotten in my horror at dying there in the darkness as had those others whose bones crunched beneath my feet.

The Castle of Othman remained as we had left it. The Barb greeted me with a whinny, extending his nose toward me. I rubbed his neck for a minute or so, talking gently to him. Then I went to the fountain, and stripping off my shirt, I bathed away the sweat and dust. Wrapped in my robes once more, I rested while Aziza brought me food, then I slept.

A long time later I awakened. It was not yet morning, although the sky seemed lighter. I lay still, staring upward and thinking about our situation. Our food was almost gone, and we could remain here no longer.

The only solution seemed a return to Cordoba or to travel on to some other town such as Seville or perhaps Toledo. By now the men of ibn-Haram would have searched the city and its environs. A return might be in order.

If careful, we might even return the way we had come, thus escaping the guards at the gates of the city. We might even continue to hide at the home of ibn-Tuwais. Getting to my feet, I went to the window and looked toward Cordoba. It was not yet light, but I could see for a good distance across country. Nothing moved.

Descending the stair, I went to the garden. What few grapes there had been we had eaten. The apricots, only few in number, were also gone.

We had no choice. We must ride away from the Castle of Othman.

Chapter
15

When Aziza awakened I waited until she had left the fountain and returned inside. "We have food for no more than a day," I told her. "We will have to go."

"To Cordoba? We cannot."

"We will be safer there. If we start for somewhere else, we may fall in with brigands or soldiers."

"Yusuf is trying to make the roads safe."

"No doubt ... in time. They are not safe yet."

She was silent for a moment, and I said, "It is safer for you. It is the last thing they will expect. I have some money."

Before noon I led the horses to the copse and picketed them where they were concealed by the trees around a small meadow. We must escape. If necessary, we could use the tower, and with candles and much care we could manage now that I had taken that route. With care we could last out another day and each day was a small victory for us.

Where else could we go? Her friends could not be trusted, for some were certainly now allied to Yusuf or ibn-Haram. Others were afraid of him. After the storm that must have been raised, any young man traveling with a beautiful girl would draw attention. In Cordoba I could lose myself among the students and find something to do. It was not in me to long remain idle. Even now I was chafing to be learning.

It was almost dusk when we saw the riders. There were at least a dozen, and they rode in a compact group heading for the Castle of Othman.

"Quick! We will hide in the passage!" Swiftly, we gathered all we had brought and removed what signs there were of our presence. Much had already been done, as we planned to leave. As we closed the door behind us, we could hear the sound of hooves in the courtyard.

Crouching on the small landing in the darkness, we waited. We had left nothing, of that we were sure, yet there would be trampled grass and evidence that someone had been there. We hoped they would believe it had been brigands.

A subdued rustling sounded beyond the stone door, large sounds no doubt, but faintly heard from here. Moving back, I brushed against something I had not seen before. Another set of steps led upward. The stairwell was very small, but moving quietly we climbed upward to reach a small room not more than four feet wide but twelve long. There was a stone bench, a rusty halberd.

Then I saw a narrow crack where the stones should have fitted but which had been purposely left to allow a viewer to watch what transpired in the great hall, and due to the collapse of walls, it also offered a view of a part of the outer court. Snuffing our candle, we peered through.

A half-dozen men were in view, soldiers all. Outside in the court we could see others, searching all about. As I watched, the officer in command turned and I saw his face clearly. It was Duban.

My mouth had opened to call out when Aziza clapped a hand over it, shaking her head violently.

"But it is Duban! He will help us!"

"They would kill you. You have been too long alone with me."

"But-"

"No matter. They would kill you, anyway."

"Of course," I agreed, "I am a fool."

"Whatever you are, I love you."

Startled, I looked at her, and she returned my gaze with wide eyes. "I mean it," she said. "Not that it will matter. They will marry me to whom they wish if it will aid their cause."

When they had ridden away we descended the stair and went to the top of the keep. From there we could watch over the entire countryside, and the riders were far away now, riding swiftly toward a high road where dim movement could be seen.

We could no longer remain here. They had found nothing, but they might return. It was obvious someone had been moving about in the courtyard and the garden.

"You were right," I admitted, "I should have known what they would think."

"I am important to them," she said. "They want me because I am useful for bargaining. They hope to seal an alliance with me." She shrugged. "Women such as I know this is what is expected, and sometimes the match is a happy one."

"And if it is not?"

"We manage, somehow. We have known what was expected of us, and some become very clever at politics and intrigue. Some simply find a lover; some sink into whatever life they have with their children, and often they are enough."

At nightfall we left the Castle of Othman, walking hand in hand down the slope to the copse where the horses were tethered. The black well had left me uneasy, and I had a premonition I had not seen the last of it, yet now I knew its secrets, or some of them. A thing to be remembered: There among the bones lay the largest part of my fallen candle. Such things can be the price of life or death.

We rode, keeping to low ground and darkness, to the entrance to ibn-Tuwais's tunnel. Once inside we heard no sound. We rode to the hidden stable, left our horses with plenty of feed, and reentered the beautiful apartments where we had first hidden.

No sound came from beyond the wall. We detected no movement in the house. Had ibn-Tuwais been taken away to be tortured or killed?

There could have been no evidence of my presence left in the house, so the search must have been purely routine unless they had previous knowledge of my presence. But how could that have been?

When for a long time we heard no sound, I pushed on the slab and it pivoted gently. There was a slight scrape of stone on stone but no other sound. With drawn sword I went through the door.

A rustle of garments, and a familiar voice. "Kerbouchard? Come in. You are safe."

The voice was that of Mahmoud. Stepping into the room, we found him reclining upon a divan, one of the books of ibn-Tuwais in his hand. He arose and came to us, bowing low to Aziza.

"We feared you had been captured or killed. Ibn-Tuwais got word to us to wait for you here."

Why did I not trust him? There was no reason for mistrust, and we desperately needed a friend. "When you could not be found they arrested ibn-Tuwais. He has told them nothing."

"But how could they know I had lived here?"

He shrugged. "Someone saw you, I suppose. Spies are everywhere, and as you should know, we Berbers trust no one."

He glanced at Aziza. "Ibn-Sharaz is said to be angry over his daughter's disappearance, and Prince Ahmed-you can imagine how he feels."

Mahmoud seated himself and clapped his hands for a slave. The man who came was strange to me, yet I recalled having seen him once. Was it in Mahmoud's home? The slave began to spread a low table for a meal, and after our poor fare of the past week, my mouth watered.

"You must remain here for the time," Mahmoud suggested, "and we will arrange to get you out of the city."

Mahmoud was my friend; there was no earthly reason for not trusting him, yet the situation left me uneasy. Mahmoud was a Berber, yet I did not believe he had any connection with Yusuf or ibn-Haram. His friends had all belonged to the previous ruling group, the Almoravids. I liked it not at all. In effect we were prisoners in the house, trusting to Mahmoud for food as well as information, and I had seen his eyes stray toward Aziza. Was it with envy or jealousy?

Mahmoud was ambitious, and Aziza was a pawn in a struggle for power, a struggle in which I was merely in the way. Reluctantly, I had to admit she would be better off with Prince Ahmed than with me. At least she would be assured of comfort, food to eat, and freedom from pursuit. What had I to offer but love? I was a drifting adventurer, a man living by his wits and his blade. I had neither family, fortune, nor friends.

When Mahmoud had gone Aziza came at once to me. "Of what are you thinking?"