Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  The following two days were better weather, and at the end of the second day they reached a monastery on the outskirts of Nappanee, where they spent the night in Spartan but comfortable lodgings. The next morning Cardinal Savoy wrote a letter to Grand Prince Neapole, explaining his expectation of an audience that afternoon.

  “Now, what can you do to make an impression on the Grand Prince?” Savoy asked as the three travelers ate breakfast.

  “It’s important to understand the corruption and treachery that is commonplace in Nappanee,” Count Colonna said. “Subtlety is very important.”

  “Ordinarily, I would agree, if we had the time for the long, patient haggling that is typical of Nappanese politics. However, I understand that we are rather pressed for time in this case, and so there needs to be a more forceful demonstration,” the Cardinal answered. “So tell me what you can do, and perhaps the three of us can determine the best negotiating strategy.”

  Marco haltingly related stories about things he had done using his powers, convinced that he remembered very few of the things he did other than make his hand glow.

  “You used air to smash a sorceress to death,” Colonna volunteered.

  “I may have used my powers to help heal a pixie,” Marco remembered.

  “The church does not recognize the existence of pixies,” Cardinal Savoy replied.

  “You made the cherry trees grow,” Colonna pointed out.

  “I can build a shield around myself,” Marco chimed in.

  And so the conversation went, and the trio slowly developed a plan that they hoped would inspire cooperation with the Lady Iasco’s campaign to set Athens free.

  They ate lunch at the monastery, then rode into town, on their way to the Grand Prince’s palace. The city was a beautiful collection of buildings that rose upwards along the steep inclines of multiple hills, which all overlooked a large sheltered harbor.

  The palace was set midway up the central hill, and it stood out from its neighbors with its garish decorations and tall towers. The status of the Holy Father’s legate gained them immediate entrance to the palace grounds, and they passed through the stately estate on the way to their audience with the Grand Prince, which began less than an hour after their arrival.

  Chapter 24 – Success in Nappanee

  The Grand Prince presided from a throne that sat at least five feet above anyone else in his over-sized audience hall. The room was garish with red and yellow and purple colors that clashed in a confused, whirling pattern of painted walls, hung bunting, decorative ornaments, and the uniforms and costumes worn by the people in the room.

  All except the clothing of the guests, that is. Savoy wore an all-white robe, Colonna wore black, and Marco wore non-descript clothing of an ordinary kind. They walked along a carpet pathway across the large hall, to arrive at a spot just before the dais where the Grand Prince sat on his high throne.

  As expected, the conversation was polite but fruitless, as the Grand Prince begged off with a half dozen excuses for why he could not send any army forces to join the liberation crusade being assembled at Malta.

  At last, both the Count and the Cardinal gave Marco a significant look, after the Grand Prince protested that he needed to maintain his army at home to preserve order after the celebrations of his birthday.

  “As a lasting reminder of the power of our Blessed Virtuous Sorcerer, who will be going on this journey to Malta and Athens, the Golden Hand wishes to perform a demonstration for you,” Cardinal Savoy told the Grand Prince. The whole room buzzed with anticipation at the excitement of seeing magical powers used in the throne room.

  Marco focused his attention, confident that he could achieve what he had told the others he could do with the powers that he was learning to control. He looked around to find if a window was open, to provide the access he would need for what he was about to do. He had seen the stables for the palace, and knew that he could find what he needed in that facility.

  “I have learned how to use my powers for protection, your highness,” Marco began. He held his hand up, and caused it to glow, raising a slight murmur from the curious onlookers.

  The idea he was about to carry out had been Colonna’s. The Count was even more puckish than Marco had come to realize during his few days of traveling with the man. When he had proposed his concept, the Cardinal had initially looked aghast; but when Marco thought he could make it happen, Savoy had rubbed his chin thoughtfully and concluded that it might positively motivate the fastidious Grand Prince into the proper action.

  And so now it was up to Marco to make it succeed.

  “This,” he waved his hand in a cup-shape, “is a protective shield I am able to create,” he said as a sorcerer’s dome appeared around him and a large area near him. Many of those in the crowd on the floor backed up, while several others moved forward to more closely observe.

  “But it does not have to protect only me,” Marco told the Grand Prince and others. He made the dome rise from the floor, so that it hovered above him for a second.

  “It can protect others as well, can’t it?” Colonna asked from nearby.

  “It can,” Marco agreed, and he slowly moved the dome through the air – all eyes in the hall glued to its motion – while it hovered to the Grand Prince’s location, then slowly lowered down over him.

  The room applauded politely.

  He had thought about this effort when Colonna had asked, and had realized that there was an easy trick to use – he had somehow convinced himself that he could fool the dome into believing that he was moving, and then it had moved in anticipation of where it thought he planned to go.

  “And what else can it do?” the Cardinal took his turn to ask.

  “It can hold things in as well as hold things out,” Marco answered. He made the dome rise once again, and noticed an expression of relief on the face of the Grand Prince as he was freed from the confinement.

  The dome slowly rotated, becoming a bowl, with its open end facing upward, and then it floated over to the open window that Marco had noted earlier. The window was high above the floor, one of several opened to create a natural flow of warm air out of the audience hall. In the case of the window that Marco had in mind, it also provided a way for something to come in.

  He pictured the stables he had seen on the palace grounds earlier, then squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to imagine all the manure that collected in the stables, the muck that had to be shoveled out and hauled away every day. He focused on the manure, and imagined his powers making it fly – upward – it a narrow stream. He could imagine he had a rope that was pulling the manure towards the open window, and he hauled in strong, short jerks on the rope as he made progress just one short distance each time he heaved.

  There was a sudden shout from the audience in the hall, and Marco looked up to see his stream of manure pouring into the transparent bowl, coming in gushing waves of filth as his efforts to move the odiferous mess succeeded wildly. Marco hastily closed his eyes again and focused on stopping the delivery, willing the remaining manure to stay put in the stables. He opened his eyes and saw that his bowl was already nearly full, while he knew that more manure was en route through the air.

  Just one step ahead of panic, he focused on the upside down shield, and increased its size, making it a larger bowl, and watching as the incoming stream finally diminished in size and volume, then quickly ceased altogether.

  The result was that over a ton of manure floated above the floor of the audience hall in the center of the palace. Marco motioned his hands again, making the bowl start to move, as all eyes watched it warily. Already, the audience hall was starting to become permeated with the odor of the large heap of manure that eased across its width, while the load came to stop at a point that was high, and directly above the Grand Prince’s throne.

  “Can you close it off completely?” Cardinal Savoy asked.

  “Let me try,” Marco answered, and he focused on turning the bowl into a ball. He willed the sides t
o grow further, and to come together; within seconds, the shield sealed itself into a uniform, seamless ball, completely enclosing the manure it held. Marco then let the container drift several feet lower, until it was a visibly ominous weight hanging not far above the head of the Grand Prince. The man looked extremely uncomfortable, Marco thought, as he sat and stared open-mouthed at the Damoclean object above.

  “Allow me to do one more thing,” Marco spoke, and then he focused on developing a stiff breeze that swept through the hall. There were gasps and sudden movements throughout the hall as hats were blown and skirts flew upwards momentarily, but as soon as the smell of the manure was cleared out of the hall, Marco dropped the breeze back to placid, still air.

  “So, your majesty,” Colonna began to speak, as though there was nothing further to mention regarding the hanging manure, “the reason we have come today is regarding this request for an army. The Blessed Virtuous Sorcerer, Golden Hand, will be with your army providing assistance and protection to the fighters who participate in this holy and sanctioned campaign to set Athens free. You cannot doubt his abilities now, can you?”

  The uneasy prince looked from Colonna to Savoy to Marco. “Shall we complete your demonstration and remove this object first, before we go on further with this discussion?” he asked. “You may dismiss this object. I think every member of the court is suitably impressed with what you can do.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Colonna spoke, “I’d like to leave this here until the day comes that I see your troops in Malta, joining the other troops of The old empire,” he told the prince. He paused, and waited, as the meaning of his threat sunk in, while an audible murmur rose in volume throughout the hall.

  “Surely you tell a great jest,” Neapole spoke loudly to Colonna, then looked at Marco.

  “We have many obligations, your highness,” Cardinal Savoy answered. “We’ll leave you now, and return tomorrow to discuss further the matter of your contribution to this united force, to be led by the High Priestess of Ophiuchus and commanded by the Duke Siplin of Barcelon. With your permission, good day,” he said, then discreetly nodded for the others to follow him as he took a walk back out of the audience hall.

  “That was stupendous!” Colonna laughed as soon as they started walking through the palace, on their way to recover their horses.

  “My lords!” a voice called, and they turned to see a courtier virtually running after them, moving as quickly as his dignity allowed.

  “My lords,” he gasped when he reached them, “the Grand Prince would enjoy the opportunity to speak with you. Would you kindly follow me to his private chambers?”

  Colonna and Savoy exchanged glances. “It would be a privilege,” the Cardinal answered, and they walked some distance through the palace to reach a small, empty room where they were left to look out the windows at a beautiful view of the city and the harbor below the palace.

  Moments later, the Grand Prince entered the room, alone.

  “What do you gentlemen want, really?” he asked immediately.

  “We want your army,” Marco blurted out. He’d left all the public speaking to the two older diplomats, and been happy to do so. But he felt that the mission was his, as given by Iasco, and he wanted to speak his piece.

  The Prince looked at Marco, and then at the other two. “How can one who is so young be given such great powers?” he asked. “Just tell me what you really want, and I’ll arrange it, so that you can make that horse manure leave the palace.”

  “The service of your army is what we really want,” Colonna answered.

  “My army is worthless! My generals pocket most of the money that is supposed to be spent on equipment and training!” Neapole answered. “I’ve got only half as many soldiers as I report, and most of them are young, raw recruits.”

  “Then you won’t miss them,” Savoy said suavely, “so load them all up on boats, with supplies, and with your generals, and send them all to Malta, as soon as possible.”

  “And if I do, you’ll remove the manure?” Neapole sought confirmation.

  “Once Golden Hand sees them in Malta, he’ll be much more likely to undo his work. But I wouldn’t wait too long,” Colonna answered. “That bubble will spill open after a while if he doesn’t do something to move it out.”

  “This is outrageous!” the Prince shouted. “I should have you all arrested and thrown in prison!”

  “Do you really think you should do that – or could do that – to a sorcerer?” Cardinal Savoy asked in a mild tone. “What do you think he would do?

  “What would you do, Golden Hand?” he turned to Marco to ask.

  “I would withdraw my powers from the ball holding the manure, first, so that I could use them as I needed,” Marco answered. “Then I’d probably turn all the gold in the kingdom into tin, and I’d make the sun never shine here.”

  “Could you make all the men impotent, and fill the women with lust?” Colonna asked. “I’d like to know when to come visit!”

  “Of course the Holy Father would eventually ex-communicate you, or at least discipline you,” the Cardinal added “if you did the last part.”

  “Would your people rise up against you in those circumstances?” Count Colonna asked in an innocent voice.

  “Stop it! You’re blackmailers! You can’t get away with this!” the Grand Prince was dark in the face, his passions were so great. He looked at them all, then stormed out of the room.

  “Well, I think we’re going to get an army,” Colonna said mildly. “That was easier than I expected.

  “Could you fill all the women in the kingdom with lust, by the way?” he asked Marco.

  “He is a virtuous sorcerer, so of course he would not,” Cardinal Savoy answered promptly. “Let us leave the palace now.”

  The next morning, after breakfast, they rode to the palace once again, where a weary-looking Grand Prince received them in a different audience hall. He seemed intent on keeping them waiting on his attention, as he sat upon a new throne and listened to reports from various functionaries. After several minutes, Count Colonna whispered in Marco’s ear, making him nod. Seconds later, a new shimmering bowl appeared overhead, next to a window.

  The members of the court looked upward nervously, but the Grand Prince determinedly refused to look.

  Seconds later there was a bursting sound, as a window up high broke open, and the glass fell into the bowl. Seconds later, a dark stream of manure flew into the room, starting to fill the great, floating container once again.

  “That’s enough!” the prince unexpectedly screamed, causing people to jump. “That’s enough blackmail and mistreatment of my people. I will surrender, but only for the sake of my people; I will send my army to Malta as soon as possible to join your campaign against Athens.”

  Marco cut off the stream of manure coming into the room, then reversed the flow. The audience began to cheer as the brown contents of the bowl began to lessen, and then empty out of the shield completely.

  “The other reminder of the Virtuous Sorcerer’s power will remain here until he sees your army in Malta,” Cardinal Savoy spoke.

  “We thank you for your generous contribution to the commonwealth,” Colonna spoke up. “Your graciousness will be remembered. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ll leave you to the business of preparing your army to fight a war.”

  Marco waved his hand in the air, and the empty bowl of energy overhead vanished, then the three visitors left the palace and returned to their inn.

  “Gentlemen, it has been a great pleasure to join you in such fruitful diplomacy,” Count Colonna spoke. “I do not intend to go on to Malta, so I will tell my servants to prepare for our departure northward, back to the Lion City. I expect we’ll see you there again someday, young prodigy, won’t we?” he asked Marco.

  “I hope to come back and visit my friends there again soon after all this is over,” Marco answered. He squeezed the Count’s hand vigorously as they shook farewell.

  “Count, you’ve be
en a true asset. As an ambassador, you are without equal,” the Cardinal told Colonna.

  “And you as well,” the count grinned back, as they parted ways.

  “I’d enjoy the chance to travel with you to Malta, if you don’t object,” Savoy told Marco.

  “I’d be very glad to have a friend along for the journey,” Marco said sincerely.

  Chapter 25 – The Gathering at Malta

  Marco stood in the bow of the ship that Cardinal Savoy had secured for their trip to Malta. The island was a distinct dark spot on the horizon, and the ship was approaching it rapidly.

  They had sailed for two days since their quick departure from Nappanee, where neither Savoy nor Marco had any wish to remain any longer than necessary. The name – and purse – of the Holy Father had secured them passage upon a small vessel that had sailed rapidly through calm waters to the island. Marco was beginning to feel like he was at home upon ships, even though he knew nothing about the mechanics of the vessels; he’d repeatedly sailed with Ophiuchus and with Iasco and on his own various seaborne trips in recent weeks.

  He was eager to see Malta, and to see if Lady Iasco was there already; he wanted to let her know about the success of his mission in the Lion City and in Nappanee, as well as tell her about the disturbing ruse that the counterfeit Laris sorceress had played in the Lion City, nearly derailing his efforts there.

  In a sense, he was even looking forward to seeing Mitment again. The spirit treated him with much less respect than anyone else did any longer, and a part of him appreciated the opportunity to feel like an ordinary person. Since his arrival in the Lion City, he had been treated like anything but. Mitment would show him little respect, in a good way.

  Malta would be his chance to find out the details of what the Lady Iasco intended to do, and what his role would be. He longed for answers, especially if the Lady told him a plan whose end was clear and in sight, so that he could know he was destined to soon return to Barcelon, all adventures over, and Mirra waiting for him to settle into life at Sant Jeroni.