He stared at her in shock. "Out there? But why aren't they inside? I mean, I thought all the people would have been called into . . ."
Umberto shook his head. "Nobody was called in. See, some of the townspeople and Venetians who got wind of it just happened to be here. The call has to go out from the captain-general. The commander readied the citadel, but when he asked Tomaselli if the cavalry should go out and escort the people in, the captain-general refused permission."
Benito swallowed. "So they're out there—with the enemy burning, raping and looting. And you want me to tell Erik?"
She nodded.
Benito took a deep breath. "Well. I thought he was bad before. But I have a feeling that this is going to be worse. She definitely wanted to see Erik?"
The corners of her mouth went further down. "They waited here on Corfu, getting off the Atlantic convoy, just so that she could see him. She was on the breakwater-head waiting when the Outremer fleet came in because she thought he'd be on it."
"She was in tears because he wasn't on it," added Umberto.
"Oh. Like that, is it?" said Benito. "I got the impression that she'd given him the push."
Maria sighed. "It was a bit of a bit of a misunderstanding. Tell him to come and see me and I'll explain."
Benito swallowed the last of his wine. "In that case, I'd better see if I can find him. Today's been my day for not finding people easily. Thank you for the wine."
Umberto smiled. "It is our pleasure. Come again."
Benito gave a wary look at Maria. "I will . . . If I may?"
Maria snorted. "If you stay out of trouble. Which probably means 'no' in your case."
Benito grinned. "I'll do my best. But I think you've just landed me in it with Erik. Anyway, ciao. Good-bye, Alessia." He waved to the baby.
* * *
Benito walked out and set off in search of Erik, full of mixed feelings. Yes, it hurt seeing Maria, listening to her acerbic tongue. But still, he found himself curiously at peace. He had always regarded babies as good things for other people, something to be personally avoided at all costs. But his heart had gone out to Maria's child. He must think of ways to help her. To help Maria . . . and Umberto for that matter.
* * *
The search for Erik was like the rest of his day—a roundabout. Erik was not in his quarters. He was not with the knights who were assembling under Von Gherens's tongue lash. Von Gherens told Benito to try Manfred and Francesca's rooms. It was where, had Benito thought about it, he should have gone in the first place.
He knocked with some trepidation on the door. Manfred, Benito had noticed, was cavalier about the privacy of others, but protective of his own.
The door opened. Manfred grinned down at him. "Ah, Benito. So have you run to earth all the taverns in this place, and maybe some exotic dancers?"
Benito shook his head. "I can't run anything to earth in this place. Besides, I'm trying to stay out of trouble."
Manfred laughed and opened the door wider. "That'll be a shock to the world! A first time, I should think. Come in and have a drink. Francesca won't. She enjoyed the captain-general's liquor so much that she won't touch ordinary armor-polish like mine. And Erik is so crossed in love that I'm keeping him off the drink."
"Um. Is Erik here?"
Manfred nodded. "He is, indeed. In his personal cloud of gloom worrying about the Atlantic convoy and not this siege. Why? Are you in need of some drill?"
Benito hesitated, then realized that not telling Erik—immediately—would put him in worse trouble than anything. "I need to talk to him," he said firmly.
"Talk to me, then," said Erik from the corner.
"I thought . . . a private word."
Erik sighed. "I haven't any advice to give you, Benito."
Erik plainly wasn't going to make this easy. "Well, I wasn't really looking for advice. I just heard about a girl called Svanhild—"
Erik crossed the room in a single lunge, picking Benito up by the shirt front. With one hand. "I have enough of this from Manfred. You leave her name out of it. You leave her out of it! Do you hear me?" He put Benito down with a thump against the wall, glaring at him.
"She's looking for you," said Benito, in a kind of undignified squeak. He had the satisfaction of seeing Erik totally rocked on his heels.
"What? Where?" demanded the Icelander. The look of hope in Erik's eyes took away the satisfaction.
Benito took a careful step away. "Erik . . . it's bad news. She's here on Corfu. But she's outside the walls."
Erik sat down. His blue-gray eyes bored into Benito.
But it was Manfred who spoke. "Where do you get this from, Benito? This no subject for your practical jokes." His voice, bantering earlier, was now deadly serious.
Benito held up his hands. "No joke, I swear, I got it straight from Maria and Umberto, who specifically told me to tell you. It's true. Someone called Svanhild from Vinland, who was on the Atlantic convoy, stopped here so that she could wait and see Erik. Specifically. Maria said she had two brothers with her and a number of other Vinlanders. Only they stayed in a villa outside town. Nobody warned them about the siege."
Erik's eyes were still boring into him. It was at times like this that Benito understood exactly why the Holy Roman Emperors relied on Clann Harald for their closest bodyguards. Erik Hakkonsen practically shrieked: Deadly!
"Maria, you know . . ." Benito half-babbled. "Er . . . Katerina's bridesmaid—at the wedding!—was on the ship with her. Svanhild, that is. She asked me—Maria, that is—to tell Erik, I swear it. And her husband Umberto confirmed it."
Erik got up, took a deep breath, and gave himself a little shake. "Benito, I owe you an apology."
Benito shrugged and grinned. And paid back the scores of an entire week of training. "It's nothing. No one expects logic of a man in love."
Then he lost his smile. "I'm sorry that I had to tell you she's out there. You can see fires up and down the length of the Island."
Erik swallowed. "Has she got her bodyguard, her brothers and their hearthmen, still with her?"
Benito shrugged again. "I don't know. I've told you literally all I've heard. Maria said you should come and talk to her about it."
The rangy Icelander put a hand on Benito's shoulder. "Will you take me to her? Please? Now?"
Benito nodded; he'd expected as much. Probably Maria had, too, if Svanhild had been as irrational about this as Erik was.
But if the girl had a pile of brothers and whatnot with her that were like Erik—well, maybe she, and they, were all right. In fact, maybe he was going to feel a little sorry for the invaders.
Manfred turned to Francesca. "I think we'd better tag along as well."
Francesca stood up. "Yes, I'd like to see Maria anyway. I never really got to know her." She raised an eyebrow at Benito. "This is 'your' Maria, isn't it? The one you got into trouble over?"
Benito reddened. "I've got over that now. Umberto Verrier is a very decent man. Gives her what I didn't."
Francesca smiled. "If you can come to terms with that, you've grown up more than most men ever do. Come, Manfred. Erik wants to go."
Manfred took her arm. "Do we need horses?"
Benito shook his head. Horses were one of the aspects of being "promoted" to the Case Vecchie that he really could do without. Living in Venice he'd not been on the back of one until he was fifteen. And then he hadn't stayed there for very long. "It's close. Five minutes' walk."
Francesca looked down at her little pearl-fringed Venetian leather shoes and grimaced. "Oh, well. I have ruined the purse that matched them already. Let's go."
Erik was already halfway down the hall, forgetting that it was Benito who would have to show them where to go. And as they walked, he was constantly having to check his long strides for the rest of them to catch up.
Benito didn't like this at all. It was fairly likely the Icelander's sweetheart had fallen prey to King Emeric of Hungary's forces. Erik was like a loose cannon with a lit wick on a cr
owded deck. When—if—he found out she'd been hurt or was dead, someone was going to pay in blood.
Probably Captain-General Nico Tomaselli.
Chapter 39
Maria decided that skirting Svanhild's reason for considering her true love ineligible was probably wise. Erik didn't seem to care anyway. All he wanted to do was to get out there and find out if she was all right.
"So you say her brothers and their party stayed with her?"
Maria nodded. "Two of them went on, saying they were going to return to Vinland. But the other fifteen or so stayed with her. Her two brothers included."
Erik shook his head, angrily. "I don't understand why she didn't stay here. The podesta has lots of space up at the Castel a mar. He told me that it is quite usual for important or high-ranking travelers to be their guests."
Maria made a face. "Um. She had a clash with the captain-general . . . and instead of sending them to see the podesta, he gave them directions to Count Dentico's villa. They had been trying to find place for a party of sixteen in the town. But Kérkira's tavernas, um, weren't good enough. Apparently."
"The Thordarsons are very wealthy. A powerful family in western trade," said Erik. "Svanhild would expect everything of the best. In a taverna, she would have to share a bed with other women, strangers."
Maria blinked. Well, of course, she almost said aloud. After all, what else? You put up in a taverna, you were going to have to share the accommodations with other travelers. That went without saying. Didn't it?
Erik seemed to read her thoughts; but, a bit to her surprise, he didn't react angrily or defensively. He simply shook his head, smiling a little.
"You're not telling me all of what she said, I'm sure, because you think I'd be offended at the thought she found me unsuitable until she learned about Manfred. But I understand her, Maria, and you don't. Well enough, anyway. Vinland's not really that different from Iceland. I lived there myself, you know, for three years."
Maria had forgotten that about him, if she'd ever known. But it explained Erik's skill with that peculiar Vinlander weapon called a tomahawk, and with the skraeling style of wrestling.
"She's from a very wealthy family," Erik explained softly, "but has no experience with towns and cities. Sent by her family, I'm sure, to find a proper husband. A girl who's known few strange men of any kind—and those, men whose customs she understands. Vinlanders or skraelings, who, at least in some ways, aren't all that different."
Manfred was staring at Erik oddly. "You understood all this about her? Then why . . ." He winced.
Erik shook his head. "Clann Harald is true to its oath to the imperial family. Always. I could explain nothing to her, even though it was obvious to me that—"
He waved his hand, curtly. "Ah, never mind. The point here, Maria, is that she's probably never shared a room, much less a bed, with any female she didn't know. She's never been away from home before, and I'm sure in all of the places she's stayed so far, they fell over themselves to give her a room to herself. Here, so crowded, not all the money even the Thordarsons have could buy a private room in a taverna."
He sighed. "And her brothers, naturally—you have no idea how protective such can be, in matters like this—would not have dreamed of asking her to do something so outlandish."
"Well, they did seem to have plenty of money. I suppose you look at things differently when you have that kind of money," Maria said.
Erik nodded, glumly. "She's as far above me as the earth is above the moon."
"Oh, nonsense!" muttered Manfred.
"Oh, nonsense!" Maria snapped the words, like a whip. "She was blubbering about you on the ship. The moment she found out your status was suitable—however those odd Vinlanders calculate such things—she stopped blubbering and tried to buy the damn ship to turn it around. I couldn't believe it! Then, when that didn't work, she got off here in order to wait for you. She was down on the dock, every day, watching for the galleys to come in. And her brothers didn't seem in the least unhappy about her interest, either!
"If that helps any," Maria ended, a bit lamely, her voice now less sure of itself. It had just dawned on her that, under the present circumstances, the girl might as well have been on the moon . . . if not further away.
The same realization seemed to have come to Erik as well. He was subdued, now, punctilious in thanks and farewells, but not really there.
Maria watched them go, feeling obscurely sorry for him. The last time she had seen anyone that mad for someone, it had been Kat for Marco . . . Or maybe Benito . . .
She pushed that thought away, firmly.
Poor Erik! She felt savage for a moment. And this was all Captain Tomaselli's fault!
Well, if—or when—Erik discovered Svanhild had been hurt, or worse—
Umberto would be getting a promotion again, probably. Could someone be promoted from the Arsenal into the captain-general's job? Eh, it probably wouldn't matter; if the captain-general was dead at the hands of Erik Hakkonsen, and the siege was still on, the captain-general would be whomever the governor said it was, and the governor and his wife both liked Umberto.
Maria closed her eyes, and recalled to herself those huge brothers, and equally huge followers. Maria had never seen Erik Hakkonsen fight herself, but both Kat and Benito had described to her the Icelander's ferocious ability in combat. If these Northlanders were all like that—
Maybe Umberto wouldn't be getting that promotion after all. She hoped so. In fact, she prayed so.
* * *
They trudged back up the hill. Now it was no effort to keep pace with the Icelander, which was a pity. An idea was brewing in Benito's head, but he wanted to talk to Manfred about it first.
When they got up to the Castel a mar, Erik finally obliged him. Manfred suggested a spot of rapier practice.
Erik shook his head. "I think I want to spend some time alone, Manfred. I've much to think about."
"I'll give you a bout, Manfred," said Benito, as Manfred stared open-mouthed at Erik.
Erik nodded. "You go and give the boy a lesson or two. I'll be in my room, if you need me."
He turned then to Benito. "I am in your debt. I have used you very hard over the last while. Forgive me."
" 'S nothing. I understand," said Benito awkwardly. He'd rather have Erik chewing him out than being like this.
Erik nodded and went into his room.
"Well, let's get the quilted jackets and the buttoned rapiers," said Manfred, far too heartily. "They're with my gear."
When they got to Manfred's chambers, Francesca said, firmly, "Your swordplay will have to wait, Benito. I need to talk to Manfred."
Benito grinned. "So do I. And the truth to tell, all I feel like doing is falling asleep once I'm done talking. I didn't sleep at all last night. The last thing on my mind is rapier practice."
Manfred grimaced. "Except it is never the last thing on Erik's mind. I'm worried about him. Up till a couple of weeks ago I'd have thought he'd rather fence than make love to a woman. Cut line, Benito. Talk quickly. I need to discuss this with Francesca."
Benito cleared his throat. "Well . . . I thought . . . A siege, especially with that captain-general in charge, I'm not going to see a lot of action."
He looked pensively at Manfred. The prince had folded his arms across his massive chest, and was now looking at Benito in the totally expressionless, ox-dumb manner that Benito recognized, by now, as a sign of Manfred in deep thought.
"So I thought . . . Well, I can't do a lot of good here. Maybe I should go to where I can—out there. I'm pretty sure I could swim with the current, using a float of some kind, and come out clear of the troops tonight. I could probably even have them lower a small boat over the walls on the seaward side. Then I could do what Von Gherens was hinting at: raise the peasantry against the Hungarians. And I could also find out what has happened to Erik's girl. It's not likely to be anything good. But he's going to be torn up until he knows."
Manfred's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'll think about it. The captain-general won't approve."
Benito shrugged. "I don't think I really give a damn. But I do need your help to signal back what I find out about the girl."
"I'll think about it," said Manfred. "I'll come and talk to you later. Now go and get that sleep you need. I need to talk to Francesca."
Francesca pointed to a seat. "Actually, I think Benito had better stay. And no, Manfred, you are not going out there with Benito."
Manfred shook his head. "How the hell did you guess?" To Benito, plaintively: "The woman's a witch, I swear it."
Francesca smiled knowingly. "Your face doesn't give anything away. But I know just how your mind works. The minute you said you'd go and talk to Benito later, I knew just what you were planning. And quite simply: No. You can't do it. You, with your rank and the Knights at your command, are the only person who can effectively influence the defense of this Citadel. The captain-general will lose it to the enemy. He's done well enough so far, but he'll swiftly be out of his depth. You are the only one here who outranks him, and you, of everyone, are the only one here who can command the Knights to lock him in a room, if necessary, and take over command. Given how his own men have reacted to his commands, I do not think you will find a great deal of opposition if you are forced to that action."
She glanced at Benito. "And there is one thing that needs doing a lot more than raising the island's countryside—its rather little countryside—against the Hungarians. That is getting news to Venice. In time the news, garbled and distorted, will trickle overland. But unless the two ships that did not take part in this landing manage to get to Rome or Venice—and I doubt they will, now that I've seen the effort Emeric's put into this—help will be many months in coming. It could take a month or two, if the blockade is effective, before the Venetians even realize there is a blockade. We'll get you a small boat, a few seamen, and you should go across to Illyria."
"Forget it." Manfred shook his head. "Francesca, I'm barely a mouse to your elephant as far as your knowledge of politics is concerned. But I do have some military acumen, you know."
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