For months after their meeting, through gesture and single words, in languages in which neither was fluent, they spoke of religion with a halting determination. Yusuf burned to understand what might animate Nicolo’s journey toward slaughter, what divinity could drive and excuse the craven excess of the Franks. Nicolo seemed no less curious to understand Yusuf’s faith, albeit riven with fractures in the aftermath of battle, death, and reincarnation. They came close to blows on more than one occasion; seethed quietly around their evening fire. Yusuf had no idea why he continued to walk beside such a man, except to say there were moments when he would see an expression of thoughtfulness, of silent contemplation on Nicolo’s face, and the sight pushed back the darkness of his own imagination.
There were years when Yusuf prayed five times a day, and years when he did not. It became easier to contemplate a universe of vast unpredictability as they learned one another’s speech. In lands where churches dotted the landscapes, Nicolo avoided even their shadows in the dust, and ducked in more than one alley to dodge proselytizers of myriad stripes. “I do not know,” he would offer when Yusuf asked him what he believed. “My mind cannot settle.” And this seemed explanation enough when they kept on dying and rising to life.
And then, too many years to count from their forging, Nicolo ducked into a church and left Yusuf to sit in the square, watching the townspeople pass. Nico was gone for some time, time enough to pray, to light a candle, to do whatever it was he felt moved to do, but when he reappeared he still seemed troubled, his brow furrowed as he chewed on his lip.
He sat beside Yusuf on the low stone wall he had claimed for a seat and said nothing for a while. Around them people greeted their neighbors, hurried toward the market, shooed away the pigeons. There was birdsong and the sound of children laughing, and Yusuf could not find it in himself to be startled when Nico took his hand.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” Yusuf asked, nodding toward the church.
“Not there,” Nico replied, his gaze open and steady. “But here?” He squeezed Yusuf’s hand. “Yes.”
