"You are going to die," I say. "It is better not to resist."
He swings at my head, misses. Stepping forward, I grab the hand that holds his sword and look up into his frightened eyes. "Who sent you to capture those women?" I ask. "Was itL andulf?"
He shakes his head. "No."
"Who then?"
He refuses to answer me, even though I press him with my eyes. He continues to shake his head, and I am puzzled. I finally pull him from his horse and throw his sword aside. Drawing his face near, I let him feel the warmth of my breath.
"What is he like?" I ask.
The man is resolute. "He is my lord and my master."
"Is he evil?"
He sneers. "You are evil!"
I have to laugh. "I suppose I amto you."
He dies, in my arms, from blood loss. Afterward, I feel refreshed, ready for more action. The bodies I hide in the bushes beside the path. The blood, even, I cover over with mud. I wash and dress like a young boy again, my hair under my cap. Then I walk toward the castle and boldly knock at the iron gate that guards the entrance in the wall. A host of soldiers answer and I am stern with them.
"I am here to see Landulf of Capua," I say in a powerful voice. "Bring me to him."
They lead me through the courtyard filled with soldiers and smoke to the castle door. A servant comes, and then another. They all seem fairly normal, although I obviously make them nervous. Finally the woman of the house arrives, Landulf s wife, Lady Cia. A striking woman, she wears a high-necked, tight-sleeved, long tunic belted at the waist. Many jewels adorn her hair and elegant fingers. Her hair is black and worn up and her eyes are dark. She is not Mediterranean but English. Her smile is welcoming, yet it doesn't reach her eyes. She is exceedingly thin, and holds herself under rigid control. I cannot say I warm to her, but she is anything but threatening. Certainly she does not seem afraid of me. I have left my long knife with the bodies of the soldiers.
Lady Cia invites me in without many questions. I don't ask why a man who used to be an archbishop now has a wife. Since the pope doesn't want him, I think, he may have decided to enjoy good company.
"It is seldom we get visitors from Greece," she says, when I explain where I have just come from. "But that is not your home, is it, Sita?"
Removing my cap, I shake out my blond hair. "No. Like you, I am from England."
She is pleased. "You are perceptive. But surely you are not traveling through the country by yourself?"
I act sad. "No. I was with my uncle. But there was an accident on the road, and he was killed."
She touches her heart "I am so sorry. What was the accident?"
"His horse threw him. His neck broke."
She shakes her head and leads me deeper into the castle. "You poor dear. You must be devastated. Let us give you food, shelter."
"Thank you."
The castle is magnificent, and although my eyes strain to detect anything odd, the only unusual thing I see is an excess of wealth, even for a Sicilian aerie commanded by a duke.L andulf has sculptures from all along the Mediterranean. The marble on his floor is inlaid with gold, and the plaster ceilings are warmed by wooden beams. Everything is tasteful, not an offense to the eye. I compliment Cia on her home.
"My husband prides himself on his collections." She points to a marble statue from ancient Greece. "Since you were just in that part of the world, I am sure you would appreciate our hero."
I approach the statue, touch it, think of Dante, and pray he is all right. Perseus holds the head of the Medusa in one upraised hand, a sword in the other. His head is slightly bowed; his great exploit has not made him proud. But the face of the Gorgon is a horror, even in death she finds no peace. A feeling of disquiet sweeps over me, but I push it away. I have seen this statue before, of course I have. Lady Cia stands by my side.
"Can I have a servant show you to your room?" she asks. "You can rest and wash. Then perhaps you can join us for supper."
"You and Lord Landulf?"
She does not flinch at the name. "Yes. We would both enjoy the company." She snaps a finger and a chubby maid appears. "Marie will show you to your room."
I grasp her hands. They are cold, although the castle is warm, with fires burning in most corners. She trembles at my touch but I steady her with my strength. Staring deep into her eyes, I notice nothing supernatural.
"You are most kind," I say.
Marie leads me up three flights of stairs before we come to my quarters. Along the way we pass a window covered with iron bars, and I see that night has firmly arrived. Marie is dressed in a long black tunic over a white chemise. With a rosary around her neck, she could have been a nun. A few of Landulf s walls are covered with frescoes, paintings done directly on fresh plaster. Most of these have a spiritual theme. He seems to have an obsession with the Old Testament. The God that looks over his household is often angry.