With the aggrieved shouts of the seafood seller ringing in her ear, Chrymos rushed past the fallen duo and dashed across the carriageway, heading for the left-hand side of the street. She heard a mix of screams, shouts, and frantic bells as she did so, and half-turned to discover that a rearing donkey was mere seconds away from trampling her beneath its hooves.
TWELVE
Moments later
Strada di Toledo, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 10 p.m., Monday January 18 1610
Henricus, twenty feet back in the midst of the group that Chrymos had recently abandoned, watched open-mouthed as his chosen candidate faced imminent disaster.
Chrymos would probably have been killed, if not for the quick thinking of the carriage driver. He pulled hard on the right hand reins, redirecting the donkey’s path away from Chrymos. Even so, she was still in real danger of being side-swiped by one of the back wheels as the carriage’s momentum took it inexorably towards her despite the donkey’s change in direction.
There was no time for anything but a mighty leap, which took Chrymos out of immediate peril—but saw her cannon into several people on the other side of the carriageway, knocking them to the ground.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt, are you okay?” Chrymos managed several heartfelt but extremely brief apologies as she hastily picked herself up from amongst the innocent bystanders that she had just knocked down. Then, plunging into the midst of this new crowd, Chrymos was quickly lost from sight.
Behind her, chaos reigned. The carriage Chrymos that had so narrowly avoided had managed to pull up short before anyone in the crowd was hurt, but the other carts and carriages hurtling down the carriageway had not been so attentive and had little chance to stop. Several carriages plowed into each other, resulting in much shouting and gesturing—but thankfully no broken bones or seriously injured donkeys. The carriages had not escaped so lightly and the remnants of these broken down wagons effectively blocked the carriageway.
Zulian, emerging from the crowd some distance away from Henricus, took one look at the tumultuous scene and posed a rhetorical question. “That was her, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed it was.”
“Are you absolutely certain we want her for the Academy? She is quite the chaos-maker, don’t you think?”
Henricus turned away from the escalating turmoil on the carriageway—the drivers of the broken carriages were growing increasingly heated as they argued with each other about who was at fault and who would pay, whilst their aristocratic passengers expressed their unhappiness in more refined but no less dogmatic statements. He smiled at Zulian.
“As I told you earlier,” said Henricus, “Chrymos was the Contessa’s choice, not mine. Still—” Henricus looked across the carriageway, gazing in the direction in which Chrymos had vanished. “—I do like her. I think she’ll bring a certain—excitement—to the Academy."
“Yeah—like the Black Death,” muttered Zulian.
But Henricus had moved on and was now wrinkling his nose at the fish-laden stench coming from the two men who had been unlucky enough to come into relatively close contact with Chrymos. “Go and clean yourselves up. If I can still smell you coming, you’ll need to find your own way back to the Academy.”
That hygiene matter addressed, Henricus issued a simple order to the rest of his team. “She went thataway. Let’s go.”
With the carriageway currently closed until the debris of the broken carriages had been cleared away, it was a simple matter for the Academy’s men to cross over and resume the search.
THIRTEEN
Twenty minutes later
Strada di Toledo, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 10.30 p.m., Monday January 18 1610
Chrymos stood on the street corner and watched, smothering a smile, as once again Henricus and his men walked right past her. It was the third time that they had ventured along this street from one end to the other, searching fruitlessly, and they were clearly growing increasingly frustrated as they failed to find any trace of the object of their quest.
Finally, Henricus had clearly decided to change tactics. He gathered his team together and, as Chrymos continued to observe, tasked the men with checking out many of the side streets that branched off the Strada di Toledo. Chrymos wasn’t close enough to hear what he dsif, but she did take careful note of the streets to which he pointed. If I stay away from those streets, I should be able to sneak off to La Lanterna before he can catch me.
A few more minutes and then Henricus waved his men into action. He took one last look around and then headed back across the carriageway, which was finally starting to return to normal as the last of the broken-down carriages was hauled away.
Chrymos watched Henricus disappear into the crowd on the other side. Only then did she deem it safe to move.
She stepped down from the box on which she had been standing, startling a couple of children who had been admiring her ‘living statue’ pose. “Time to eat,” she whispered to the children, making her voice as gruff and masculine as she could. No point shattering their illusions. Pulcinella is supposed to be male.
Chrymos scooped up the handful of coins that had been tossed into the hat beneath her while she was pretending to be the much-loved commedia dell’arte character. She grabbed hat and box and carried them all back to the stall where she had found the Pulcinella costume and the other props. Slipping behind the curtained-off area at the back of the stall, Chrymos removed the borrowed costume, smoothing out her tunic dress, which had been stuffed out of sight beneath the classic fat-bellied top and baggy trousers that every Pulcinella actor wore. The traditional floppy hat was next to go, allowing Chrymos to shake out her pigtails and let them flow freely down her back. She retrieved her own cap from the pocket of her tunic and pulled it onto her head.
Finally, Chrymos removed the black mask, which had hidden most of her face from the Academy’s searchers. “Goodbye, Pulcinella, thanks for your help,” she whispered as she placed the costume back where she had found it.
Chrymos left the donated coins beside the Pulcinella costume, a token payment to the street theater performers who had unknowingly provided her disguise. Then she put on her cloak and slipped away before the performing troupe might find her when they returned from their supper break.
Glancing around to ensure that she was still unobserved, Chrymos finally left the Strada di Toledo behind, heading down one of the streets that, as far as she knew, wasn’t being watched by the Academy’s men.
Next stop, the port and La Lanterna!
FOURTEEN
Earlier That Evening
In the woods, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 7.30 p.m. Monday January 18 1610
All three children stopped in their tracks upon hearing Chrymos’ surprise revelation. The bonfire was forgotten for the moment as they stared at her in disbelief. Sirus, inevitably, was first to speak. “What do you mean, you don’t remember anything before five years ago?”
“Simply what I said,” replied Chrymos, simultaneously urging the children tokeep moving towards their destination, the bonfire. “I woke up one day on the streets of Florence, not far from the Ponte Vecchio. I had nothing—only the clothes that I’m wearing now. I had no memory, I struggled with the language, and I didn’t even know my own name.”
“Then how do you know,” asked Olivia reasonably, avoiding a large puddle as she walked along, “that your name is Chrymos?”
“It probably isn’t,” admitted Chrymos, “but I needed to call myself something. On the streets of Florence I heard plenty of possible names bandied around—I even tried out a few of them.” She smiled. “Would you be friends with me if I was still called Agnesina?”
Olivia giggled. “Certainly not.”
“How about Euphrosina?” Chrymos directed that question at Madalena, who solemnly shook her head.
The group emerged from the woods and turned to walk down the street as Chrymos aimed the next option at Sirus. “Polixena?”
“I don’t think so,”
said Sirus, joining in the game.
“What about Sicambria?” Chrymos put on a sour face as she offered that alternative.
The combination of odd name and comical facial expression brought fresh peals of laughter from Olivia, who struggled to choke out a question: “So how did you pick Chrymos as a name?”
“It came to me in a dream,” Chrymos said, “and it just seemed right. So I took it, and I’ve used it ever since. I’m not sure if it’s actually my name, or perhaps it’s simply the name of a donkey I used to ride—” Olivia spluttered at the thought. “—but it’s mine now and here I am.”
“And here we are,” she added, because the four of them had arrived outside the Tirabosco building. The bonfire still blazed merrily on the top floor so, with one final warning to remember the escape plan, Chrymos led them up the stairs towards the welcoming warmth.
FIFTEEN
After Chrymos left the Strada di Toledo
The Port of Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 11.00 p.m. Monday January 18 1610
The chosen escape route took Chrymos past San Giacomo degli Spagnoli, another church that ministered to the city’s poor and infirm. The church had been a lifesaver for Chrymos during her first weeks in Naples, providing food and occasional shelter until she had been in a position to make her own living arrangements. She still occasionally accepted gifts of food from the church when she was unable to find any odd jobs. Chrymos could subsist on very little but the children needed to eat regularly, even if it was only stale bread—the good people of San Giacomo degli Spagnoli visited local shops and bakeries at the end of each day and gathered up unsold leftovers to distribute to the needy.
Tonight, even that former haven was cold and quiet. Chrymos hurried past, her attention focused on the lighthouse still some distance away at the edge of the harbor. She pulled her cloak around her as she passed through the large open area that lay beyond the church. The rain, thankfully, seems to have stopped but that wind is definitely unpleasant.
Chrymos turned one final corner, past the wall bordering L’Argo del Castello—the imposing castle that towered over the port of Naples—and there it was, straight ahead, down the street and along the pier, La Lanterna. The basket of flames flickering at the top of the lighthouse had never seemed so welcoming.
Chrymos walked briskly down the street towards the pier, her cord sandals making little noise on the lava slabs beneath her feet. Coming up on her left, she spied the Dogana Grande, the customs house, patrolled as always by several armed soldiers. They watched her warily as she came down the street towards them. Nearly there, she told herself.
Chrymos heard a sudden clattering of footsteps behind her, running at first and then slowing down to a more measured walking pace. She risked a glance backwards and recognized several of the Academy’s men. They must have slowed down because they saw the soldiers, she realized. Another Academy thug was fast disappearing up the hill, obviously scurrying back to summon the others. It’s about to get crowded here, she thought as she kept walking towards the pier.
It was an odd procession, and in any other circumstances Chrymos might have laughed. She led the way, walking as briskly as she dared under the suspicious gaze of the customs house guardians. Twenty feet behind her, a half-dozen of the Academy’s men strained to walk quickly yet innocently—though if any of the watching soldiers were fooled, it was not evident in the manner in which they straightened at their posts, muskets at the ready.
Chrymos kept walking, drew level with the soldiers, and then moved beyond the customs house and onto the pier itself. The lighthouse was tantalizingly close, a few hundred feet away, and although she could see no sign of the children, she expected that they would be nearby, hiding at the side or rear of La Lanterna.
Chrymos glanced back. The Academy thugs were now abreast of the customs house and the soldiers were on heightened alert, watching closely as the intruders marched past. Their movements look so ludicrously false, Chrymos thought. It wouldn’t take much for the soldiers to open fire.
No such incident occurred, however, and the Academy’s men reached the pier. They split up and spread out, moving purposefully towards Chrymos.
She had already abandoned any idea of joining up with the children—no sense bringing them back into this, they’ve already escaped once tonight—but now she was trapped on the narrow pier, with her pursuers moving relentlessly towards her.
SIXTEEN
A few seconds later
The Pier, Port of Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 11.15 p.m. Monday January 18 1610
Once again, Chrymos found herself scanning her surroundings searching for viable alternatives to simple surrender. The pier itself offered little in terms of either protection or offensive maneuvering—it was a weathered wooden platform that stretched between dry land and the lighthouse, with occasional bollards along each side to which visiting ships might be moored.
On this particular night, there was merely a single visitor tied up at the Naples pier—a Spanish war galleon, on the pier’s left hand side. Chrymos cast an eye over the imposing vessel, noted two watchmen in the stern who were likewise observing both her and the men behind her. No escape there, she thought.
Almost, Chrymos failed to notice the decaying hulk moored on the right hand side of the pier. To her, as to most city residents, the Napolitana was just part of the scenery, an eyesore that should have long ago been towed out to deep waters and sunk. And yet, in its own way, this galleass was a hero—it was the lone survivor of the four warships provided by the Kingdom of Naples as its contribution to the ill-fated Spanish Armada of 1588.
More than two decades later, the Napolitana was rotting away on the Naples waterfront—unwanted until, as Chrymos realized with a jolt, this very moment. She walked over to the once-proud ship, noting as she did so that Academy reinforcements had arrived—a large group, several carrying flaming torches, ran rapidly down the street, causing further consternation amongst the soldiers guarding the customs house. A second group, accompanied by cart and donkey, followed close behind. At least, Chrymos thought as she looked desperately for some way to climb onto the Napolitana, the men already on the pier are waiting for the new arrivals before they come any closer.
She smiled briefly. You’d think they were afraid of me.
The momentary pause gave Chrymos time to scramble onboard. The tide was low, so the old ship was more accessible than it might otherwise have been. Chrymos was able to climb up the side of the ship easily enough, thanks to conveniently-placed oar holes. Despite her injured hand, Chrymos quickly pulled herself over the side and onto the deck of the Napolitana.
What she saw gave her pause. In fact, there wasn’t much to see, even with the combined light of the crescent moon and the lighthouse. The deck itself was barren, long since stripped of any usable materials, except for a handful of tattered ropes dangling down from the masts. The galleass was a crossbreed ship, which could be powered by either sail or oar—but there was little remaining evidence of its rowing capabilities, except for a couple of long rowing benches which, by the look of them, had been too badly mangled by English cannon-fire to be worth looting.
At this point, Chrymos might have despaired. She heard voices growing nearer—sounds like Henricus, giving orders as usual—and decided that her best chance was to hide below deck.
Chrymos took off her sandals and then, as quietly as she could, tiptoed over to the stern of the ship, where a dark passage appeared to promise entry to the lower decks.
SEVENTEEN
Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 11.30 p.m. Monday January 18 1610
Zulian was tired of this seemingly never-ending hunt, even if Henricus appeared to remain exhilarated by it all. He didn’t even try to hide his annoyance. Zulian’s own potion-bestowed skill, the ability to command flocks of birds to do his bidding, was of little use in this extended chase. “More hide and seek? In a ship, this time? Why don’t we just blow it up and go home? I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m tired, and I’ve had more than en
ough of all this.”
Henricus could still muster a smile, even if, truth be told, he was becoming exhausted as well. “Think of it as practice for the grim days that lie ahead, Zulian. When the Lost War begins, whose side would you rather this woman be on, theirs or ours?”
“What makes you think you can win Chrymos over, Henricus?” Zulian was far from convinced. “She’s made it quite clear that she wants us to stay well away.”
“Yes, at the moment she probably does, but then I haven’t yet had a chance to impress her with my sparkling personality,” Henricus replied with a grin. “Once she’s properly exposed to the full Henricus charm, her resistance will simply melt away.”
Zulian couldn’t help but smile, even though his opinion hadn’t really changed. Henricus turned his attention back to the search for the elusive Chrymos, instructing his men to search the crumbling warship from stem to stern.
Several of the hired thugs, who clearly shared Zulian’s views on the undesirable nature of this long drawn-out chase, rushed to the side of the ship and scrambled aboard.
Then they stopped short. With the deck scraped so bare, there was little to search. Only the entrance to the lower decks appeared to hold any promise—but it also screamed danger to these wary toughs.
None seemed in any rush to put themselves in the line of fire until Zulian, who had climbed up the side of the vessel and was clinging to the top, called out. “Are you too afraid of this vicious young woman to go below? Or is it that you don’t like the dark?”
Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series Page 5
