He stares at me, incredulous. But he hands me back my knife, as if I might now help him because he is cooperating. But he is beyond a cure. I take a step toward Dante, whose head bobbles like that of a puppy dog.
"Oh, my lady," he gushes. "God has sent you."
I begin to cut him down. "Somebody did," I say.
Pino cries out to me as he slumps to the ground. There is great sorrow in his words, but I have heard it all before over the centuries. "Non vogliomo rire."I don't want to die.
Dante answers for me, giving me a future favorite line.
"Then you should never have been born," he says.
8
Later, at night around a fire, I muse to myself that I killed the two men and the woman exactly as I had killed them before. The knowledge that their deaths were certain did not affect my actions in the slightest. Not even a single word that was exchanged between us was different. It makes me wonder whose future I'm from.
Dante sits across from me, wrapped in the swordsman's finery. He has washed out Pino's blood. My new friend is busy gloating over a rabbit I caught for him. A stick skewered through it, the meat hangs in the fire growing more tasty by the minute. The dripping grease crackles in the flames. Dante licks his diseased fingers and his dark eyes shine with joy. He has been muttering prayers to himself since I saved him.
"Tis a wonderful eve, I know," he says. "The light of heaven follows our steps. There can be no other way of explaining how a helpless maid was able to rescue me."
I laugh. "Dante, please don't call me that. Or I will show you again just how wrong you are."
He is instantly apologetic. "I meant no offense, my lady. I intended only to praise the grace of God. You are his instrument in this world, I know that in my heart." He adjusts the rabbit in the fire and licks his cracked lips. "We can eat soon."
"You can have it all," I say. "I have already eaten today."
He is offended. "If you will not feed with me, my lady, I myself will go hungry. It is not right that I should keep taking from you."
I continue to smile. "There is one thing you can give meinformation. I have never been in Sicily before. Tell me about this land?"
He brightens. "It is a beautiful land, my lady, filled with sweet orchards and tall trees that cover the hills. You stay around Messina and wander not too far from the well-traveled roads, and you will have a pleasant visit."
"If I had not been far off the well-traveled roads this evening, I would not have been there to rescue you. But I am curious why you say I should stay close to Messina. Surely the Moslems have not landed on Sicily's southern shores?"
His face darkens. "But they have, my lady. A force of them is camped on the beaches in the southwest. Have you not heard?"
"No. I heard that the Duke of Terra diL abur is strong in the south, with many armed knights."
Dante trembles. "Do not speak that name, my lady, for he no longer goes by it. He has turned against the Christian God, and has murdered his own knights. It is by his power and with his protection that the heathens have managed to land their forces on Sicily."
I am surprised, even though I know all these things deep inside. Yet the future becomes more a dream to me with each passing hour. I know it exists, I know I am from there, but I have to focus to maintain this knowledge. Yet this does not worry me. It seems entirely natural that I should be one hundred percent in the present moment, with Dante, and the cooking rabbit, and his stories of the evil duke. But I have spoiled Dante's appetite by asking about the latter. Dante stares miserably at the fire as if he were staring at a picture of hell. He scratches at his lepered arm and legmy questions bring him pain. Yet I know I must ask all about the political details.
"What does the duke call himself now?" I ask.
Dante shakes his head. "It is better not to repeat it in the night lest he hear us talking of him. For the night is his cloak, and shadows flow around him."
I laugh again. "Come on, he can't be that bad. I must know his name."
Dante is adamant. "I am sorry, my lady, I will not talk of him. To do so is a sin to your good company."
"My good company will not be so good if you do not answer me. What is the Duke's name now?"
Dante speaks in a whisper."L andulf of Capua."
I have heard the name before, of course. But nowi t rings in my ears with less potency and more harmless connotations. Myth surrounds the title, not remembered agonies. Yet I know Landulf is the one I have come forfrom the stars, for the starseven if the flames that sparkle before my eyes blot out most of the nighttime sky. I do not want to focus on future factsit is another choice I make. I am more intrigued than scared. Capua is tied to Landulf s name because he was originally from there.