Fools' Gold (2 page)

‘Freize: eat with us,’ Luca commanded.

‘I’m supposed to be your general factotum,’ Freize repeated the grand word. ‘Or servant.’

‘No one can see,’ Isolde pointed out. ‘And it feels odd when you don’t sit down. I like you to eat with us, Freize.’

There was no need for her to repeat the invitation. Freize pulled up a chair, took a plate and started to serve himself generously.

‘Besides, this way you’ll get two dinners,’ Ishraq pointed out to him with a little smile. ‘One now, and one in the kitchen later.’

‘A working man needs to keep up his strength,’ Freize said cheerfully, buttering a thick slice of bread and sinking his white teeth into it. ‘What’s Ravenna like?’

‘Old,’ Luca remarked. ‘The little that I have seen of it so far. A great city, wonderful churches, as beautiful as Rome in some parts. But before we leave tomorrow I want to go to the tomb of Galla Placidia.’

‘Who’s that?’ Isolde asked him.

‘She was a very great lady in ancient times, and she prepared herself a great tomb that the priest at church told me to go and see. He says it is very beautiful inside, with mosaics from floor to ceiling.’

‘I should like to see that!’ Ishraq remarked and then flushed, anxious that Isolde would think that she was trying to get into Luca’s company.

As soon as Isolde saw her friend’s embarrassment she blushed too and said quickly: ‘Oh but you must go! Go with Luca while I pack our bags for the journey. Why don’t the two of you go in the morning?’

Brother Peter looked from one red-cheeked girl to another as if they were troubling beings from another world altogether. ‘What on earth is the matter with you now?’ he asked wearily.

‘If you are to pass as my sister and Ishraq as your servant then you had both better come and see the tomb,’ Luca said, quite blind to the girls’ embarassment. ‘And surely Ishraq should always accompany you, Isolde, when you are walking around a strange city. You should always have a lady in waiting.’

‘And in any case, we can’t go halfway across Christendom with you two carrying on like this,’ Freize said gently.

‘Why, what’s the matter?’ Luca looked from one to another, noticing their confusion for the first time. ‘What’s going on?’

There was an awkward silence. ‘We had a disagreement,’ Isolde said awkwardly. ‘Before we left Piccolo. Actually, I was in the wrong.’

‘You two quarrel?’ Luca exclaimed. ‘But I’ve never known you quarrel. What’s it all about?’

Freize, who knew that they had quarrelled over Luca, stepped into the silence. ‘Lasses,’ he said generally to the table. ‘Often upset about one thing or another. Highly strung. Like the little donkey. Think they know their own mind even when it’s not quite right.’

‘Oh don’t be ridiculous!’ Ishraq said crossly. She turned to Isolde. ‘I should want everything to be as it was between us, and anything else will work itself out.’

Isolde, her eyes on the table, nodded her fair head. ‘I am sorry,’ she said, her voice low. ‘I was utterly wrong.’

‘That’s all right then,’ Freize said with the air of a man having brought about a diplomatic compromise in a difficult situation. ‘Glad I settled it. No need to thank me.’

‘You had better pray for patience,’ Brother Peter said crossly to the two girls. ‘God knows, that I have to.’ He rose from the table and went solemnly out of the room. As the door closed behind him the four young people exchanged rueful smiles.

‘But what was the matter?’ Luca persisted.

Freize shook his head at him, indicating he should be silent. ‘Best left alone,’ he advised. ‘Like the little donkey when it has finally settled itself down.’

‘Anyway, it’s over,’ Isolde ruled, ‘and we should go to bed as well.’

As soon as she rose to her feet Luca held open the door for her and followed her out into the hall. ‘You’re not upset with me, about anything?’ he asked her quietly.

She shook her head. ‘I was quite at fault with Ishraq. She told me that she had held you in her arms for comfort, when you were grieving, and I was angry with her.’

‘Why would you be angry?’ he asked, though his heart was hammering in his chest, hoping that he had guessed her answer.

She raised her face and looked at him honestly, her dark blue eyes meeting his hazel ones. ‘Alas, I was jealous,’ she said simply. He saw her little, rueful, smile. ‘Jealous like a fool,’ she confessed.

‘You were jealous that she held me in her arms?’ he said very low.

‘Yes.’

‘Because you and I have never held each other close?’

‘Well, we cannot,’ she reasoned. ‘You are promised to the priesthood and I was born a lady. I can’t go around kissing people. Not like Ishraq. She’s free to behave as she wants.’

‘But you do want me to hold you?’ He stepped closer and whispered the question against her blonde hair, so that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

She could not say the word, she merely leaned her head towards him.

Very gently, very softly, as if he was afraid of startling her, Luca put one arm around her slim waist and the other round her shoulders and drew her close. Isolde rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes to savour the intense pleasure that rushed through her as she felt the length of his lithe body against her, and the strength in his arms as they tightened around her.

‘Did she tell you I kissed her forehead?’ Luca whispered in her ear, delighting in the touch and the rose-water scent of this young woman that he had desired since the moment that he had first seen her.

She raised her head. ‘She did.’

‘Were you jealous of that too?’

There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes, and she saw it at once and smiled back at him, ‘Unfortunately, I was.’

‘Shall I kiss you as I kissed her? Would that make it fair?’

In answer she closed her eyes and raised her face to him. Luca longed to kiss her warm mouth but instead, obedient to his offer, he gently kissed her forehead, and had the satisfaction of feeling her sway, just slightly, in his arms, as if she too wanted for more.

In a moment she opened her dark blue eyes.

‘Shall I kiss you on the lips?’ Luca asked her.

It was a step too far. He sensed her flinch and she leaned back so she could see his warmly smiling face.

‘I think you should not,’ she said, but, in contradiction, her arms were still around his waist and she did not let him go. His arms held her close and she did not step back.

Slowly, he leaned forwards, slowly her eyes closed, and she raised her mouth to his. Behind them the door opened and Freize came out with the dishes from dinner. He checked himself when he saw the two of them, enwrapped in the darkened hall. ‘’Scuse me,’ he said cheerfully, and went past them to the kitchen.

Luca rapidly released Isolde who put her hands to her hot cheeks. ‘I should go to bed,’ she said quietly. ‘Forgive me.’

‘But you’re not angry with Ishraq, nor upset with yourself any more?’ he confirmed.

She went to the stairs but he could see that she was laughing. ‘I scolded Ishraq like a fishwife!’ she confessed. ‘I accused her of loose behaviour for allowing your kiss. And now here am I!’

‘She’ll forgive you,’ he said. ‘And you will be happy again.’

She went up the stairs and turned back and smiled at him. He caught his breath at the luminous loveliness of her face. ‘I am happy now,’ she said. ‘I think I have never been as happy in my life as I am now.’

In the morning, as Freize went out to buy new and beautiful capes and hats for their sea voyage to Venice, Brother Peter and Luca – holding to their pretence of being merchant brothers – and Isolde and Ishraq – as their sister and her companion – went to walk in the town of Ravenna.

It was a small city, tightly enclosed within the encircling walls, the great castle dominating the jumble of shabby roofs around the castle hill. The morning was bright and sunny, the early frost melting from the red tiled roofs. Rising to the blue sky, at every street corner, were the tall bell towers of great churches. A shallow canal flowed into the very centre of the town, where a market sold everything on the stone-built quay. The city had been the capital of the ancient kingdom, and the great stone roads running north and south and east and west across the whole of Italy crossed at the very heart of the old city.

The two girls hesitated beside the great church that towered over the area, admiring the rose-coloured brick. ‘The church is what takes your eye, but the tomb I want to see is just here,’ Luca said, and led the way to a modest little building set to one side.

‘This little place?’ Isolde ducked under the low opening, Ishraq followed her, Brother Peter behind her. The building was in the shape of a cross and they entered by the north door. For a moment they paused at the entrance of the tiny church and then as Isolde crossed herself, and bent her knee, Luca exclaimed at the explosion of colour inside the modest building.

Every part of the arched interior was glistening, almost as if it had been freshly painted. The walls, the floor, even the curved ceilings were rich with bright mosaics. Isolde gazed around her in amazed delight, Ishraq could not take her eyes from the roof above their heads, which was deep sea blue, studded with hundreds of golden stars. It was like a silk scarf sweeping over their heads and down into the arches on all four sides.

‘It’s beautiful!’ Ishraq exclaimed, thinking how similar it was to the rich designs of the Arab world. ‘What is it? A private chapel?’

‘It’s not a church at all, it’s a mausoleum,’ Brother Peter told her. ‘Built by a great Christian lady hundreds of years ago for her own burial.’

‘Look,’ Isolde said, turning back to the door where they had entered. A spacious mosaic over the doorway showed a warmly coloured scene of the Good Shepherd, leaning on his crook, crowned with a golden halo and surrounded by his sheep. ‘How could they do this hundreds of years ago? The tenderness of the picture? See how he touches the sheep?’

‘And that is the story of a Christian risking his life for the gospels,’ Brother Peter said piously, pointing to the opposite wall where a man was depicted running past the flames of an open fire, with a cross over his shoulder and an open book in his hand. ‘See the gospels in the library?’

‘I see,’ Ishraq said demurely. In this exquisite and holy place she did not want to tease Brother Peter about his devotion, or to express her own scepticism. She had been raised in the Christian household of Isolde’s father, the Lord of Lucretili, but her mother had taught her to read the Koran. Her later education encouraged her to examine everything, and she would always be a young woman of questions rather than of faith. She looked around the glittering interior and then found her attention caught by a wash of colour on some white mosaic tiles. Someone had glazed the open windows of the mausoleum and one of the pieces of glass had been broken. The morning sunlight, shining over the chipped surface, threw coloured rays on the white tiles and even on Ishraq’s white headscarf.

‘Look,’ Ishraq nudged Isolde. ‘Even the sunlight is coloured in here.’

Her words caught Luca’s attention and he turned and saw the brilliant spread of colours. He was dazzled by the rainbow shining around Ishraq’s head. ‘Give me your scarf,’ he said suddenly.

Without a word, her eyes on his face, she unwrapped it, and her dark thick hair tumbled down around her shoulders. Luca handed one end to her and kept the other. They spread it out to catch the light from the window. At once the white silk glowed with the colours of the rainbow. Together, as if doing a strange dance, they walked towards the window and saw the colours become more diffuse and blurred as the stripes grew wider, and then they walked away again and saw that the brightly coloured beam narrowed and became more distinct.

‘The broken glass seems to be turning the sunlight into many colours,’ Luca said, wonderingly. He turned back to the mosaic that he had been examining. ‘And look,’ he said to her. ‘The mosaic is a rainbow too.’

Above his head was a soaring wall going up to the vault above them, decorated exquisitely in all the colours of the rainbow, and overlaid with a pattern. Luca, his hands holding out Ishraq’s scarf, nodded from the rainbow mosaic to the rainbow on the scarf. ‘It’s the same colours,’ he said. ‘A thousand years ago, they made a rainbow in these very colours, appearing in this order.’

‘What are you doing?’ Isolde asked, looking at the two of them. ‘What are you looking at?’

‘It makes you think that a rainbow must always form the same colours,’ Ishraq answered her when Luca was silent, looking from the scarf to the mosaic wall. ‘Does it? Is it always the colours as they have shown here? In this mosaic? Don’t look at the pattern, look at the colours!’

‘Yes!’ Luca exclaimed. ‘How strange that they should have noticed this, so many hundreds of years ago! How wonderful that they should have recorded the colours.’ He paused in thought. ‘So, is every rainbow the same? Has it been the same for hundreds of years? And if the chip of glass can make a rainbow in here, what makes a rainbow in the sky? What makes the sky suddenly shine with colours?’

Nobody answered him, nobody had an answer. Nobody but Luca would ask such a question; he had been expelled from his monastery for asking questions which verged on heresy, and even now, though he was employed by the Order of Darkness to inquire into all questions of this world and the next, he had to stay within the tight confines of the Church.