This Rough Magic

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Good," said Lodovico. "Because I think the biggest problem with a relief force will be ships to transport them. Venice's fleets are away. We'll need ships from further afield. Few of the other Mediterranean powers are likely to wish to help us. Perhaps they will oblige the Emperor."

  Benito hadn't thought of that. And ten to one, neither had Manfred.

  The Count nodded, sighing. "We will surely find that Emeric has tried to prevent others coming to your rescue. I imagine part of the Hungarian's strategy is to get Alexius VI to trap the eastern fleet in the Black Sea. The western fleet is another question. Do you think the Barbary pirates may be involved?"

  Benito bit his lip. "I don't know, milord. But this I will tell you: Eneko Lopez believes Grand Duke Jagiellon is also involved in all this. And that means Lithuania and its allies. And now, if you'll excuse us, Count. You have letters to write. And we have the Arsenal to visit. They'll be working night and day until another fleet is ready."

  * * *

  The situation at the Arsenal, Benito had to admit, was worse than he had hoped. Doge Giorgio Foscari had let the old policy of keeping a number of spare vessels in readiness, just needing to be rigged, lapse. The Senate had recently passed a new appropriation to restart the program, but it was still in its infancy. Only two extra new keels had been laid. The work had of course been proceeding on seven new great galleys to replace existing but elderly vessels, but the Arsenal simply didn't have a new fleet ready to sail. At least twenty great galleys would be needed, and three times that number of smaller galleys.

  "How long?" asked Benito.

  The representative of the Admiral of the Arsenal shrugged. "Six to eight months, milord. We'll start launching the smaller vessels within two, but it all takes time. We can't just throw money and resources at the problem: The limit is skilled manpower. You can't make shipwrights overnight, and they've got to sleep sometimes."

  It was not what Benito had wanted to hear.

  * * *

  After two days Benito was rested, his saddle sores almost entirely recovered, and his appearance returned to that of a Case Vecchie gentleman.

  By then, apparently shortly after Benito had fallen into a bed, Kat had returned from Verona, as part of the retinue of Petro Dorma. The Duke Dell'este was expected the following day.

  Marco was watching Benito devour his second breakfast of the day, when Kat appeared. She melted into her husband's arms with a sigh of deep contentment, holding him as if she never wanted to part from him, even though Benito knew she couldn't have been away from him more than an hour or two.

  Marco always just looked somehow more complete and at ease with Kat at his side, Benito decided. She was never waspish with him either, as she used to be with Benito. Still, she even kissed the prodigal fondly before taking a seat next to Marco.

  "I supposed it's to be expected that you would find a unique reason to break your exile," she said, with a wink. "How is Maria?"

  "She and Baby Alessia were fine when I last saw them. Mind you that was more than a month ago, and they're in a fortress under siege. But Umberto is looking after them." He paused. "That's a good man she married, Kat."

  Now Katerina scowled at him, looking far more like the Kat that Benito remembered than the joyous Madonna-like person who was married to his brother. "You were a fool, Benito."

  He grinned, though to be fair his heart wasn't in it. "I still am, Kat. But at least she's happy. Be honest, he gives her the kind of stability I can't."

  She sniffed. "Stability is all very well. But you could have settled down a bit if you'd tried. Anyway. There is nothing you can do about it now. I'm supposed to tell you the Doge and your grandfather want to see you as soon as possible. They're in council with the Patriarch, Sister Evangelina, Brother Mascoli, and several other clerics that I don't know. They wanted to talk to Marco, too.

  "I'm coming along," she added militantly, "just to see that they don't talk you into doing something dangerous, Marco."

  "Flying with the Lion isn't really dangerous, Katerina. And we had to get someone down to Venice quickly when we heard about Benito's predicament from the Hypatians."

  "Perhaps flying with the Lion is not entirely dangerous," she said sharply. "But you know very well what happened to Bespi once you left him! And if it hadn't been that you moved so fast, it might have been you who encountered that ambush, off Venetian soil where the Lion couldn't help you—"

  Marco winced; Benito gaped at him, then demanded, "What ambush? What happened?"

  "Oh," Marco replied, "Bespi ran into some—trouble."

  "Trouble?" Kat's voice dripped sarcasm. "He was ambushed, Benito. And the only reason he's alive now is because Marco wasn't with him." She glared at him. "And the fact, I suppose, that they couldn't actually set up a good ambush, since they were expecting to catch you before you got on Venetian territory."

  Bit by bit, Benito pulled it out of them. It happened right after Marco left Bespi on the road with their two horses, when he broke through a group of mercenaries who had set up an ambush on the road that showed every evidence of having been hastily set up. Wisely, rather than try to fight, he spurred his horse through them. But he hadn't gotten away without adding more scars to his considerable collection, and it was Bespi's opinion that the only reason the ambushers had broken off was that they had been confused, seeing only one man, and that man looking nothing like Marco Valdosta. He was recovering, but since the mercenaries were aided by something that Bespi had refused to describe, except as "black magic," there was no doubt that Jagiellon was involved.

  "And if you had been outside the border of Venice, what then?" Kat repeated.

  Benito shared Kat's distrust of these magical doings. Perhaps Marco understood and was in control of these forces, but they left Benito feeling like a weak swimmer in an undertow.

  * * *

  They walked across to the Doge's palace together, where the Swiss guards saluted very respectfully. It was amazing what a difference the clothes one wore made. No one even glanced at the scabbarded sword at Benito's side now. Ha! So much for the fuss about "concealed weapons." The same weapon could be carried openly without any comment by the Case Vecchie.

  A footman led them up to a large, airy salon where Petro Dorma was in animated discussion with a number of other parts of the state machinery, and several clerics. The Doge broke off his argument to greet them. "Well, Benito. I thought I told you to stay away from trouble?" As it was said with a broad smile and general laughter, Benito knew that at least he wasn't still in Petro's bad books.

  "Nonetheless, you have given us something of a legal conundrum," said the one hawk-nosed secretary. Benito recognized the voice from the Council of Ten interview. "You are still legally banished. And there are a small group saying no matter who you are and what you have done, or whatever the reason, holding a Venetian Justice hostage at sword's point is unacceptable."

  "I'll face my trial and accept my sentence," said Benito stiffly, feeling irritated. "I did what had to be done, and I was the right person to do it."

  "And Venice and the Church are conscious of their debt to you," said Petro. "But the form of the law must be observed."

  "It's a pity you couldn't have put off arriving until tomorrow," said the secretary with a wry smile. "Your pardon was on the agenda for the Senate meeting."

  Benito found this more than a little odd. He'd hardly been gone from Venice a couple of months and they wanted him back? Not very likely. "You were going to pardon me?"

  Petro waved a hand, dismissively. "For reasons of state that no longer apply, since the rumors about Prince Manfred's schemes to seize Corfu proved to be untrue."

  The hawk-nosed secretary cleared his throat. "Still, the item is on the agenda and must be debated. I think it would sit very ill with the commons if Benito were not pardoned now."

  Dorma shrugged. "Very well. Leave it scheduled. It may help our case. Just try to stay out of trouble this time, Benito. We have scheduled the case for nine to
morrow morning, with a full bench of Justices. I'm afraid that will include Capuletti. I can't influence or be perceived to have influenced the case at all."

  Benito snorted. "I did what I thought had to be done, Petro. If they want to be petty about the matter—well, so be it."

  The Patriarch shook his head. "The church will certainly appeal strongly for clemency. Magical contacts have been made—considering the gravity of the situation and the involvement of the Ancient Enemy, the expenditure of magical power was reckoned worthwhile. The Hypatians in Messina give you a glowing character reference. And you have alerted the mother church to a terrible evil. Our sacred magicians are gathering to take the war to the enemy."

  "Anyway," said Petro, "that is for tomorrow. Today we just want to extract as much information from you as possible. Wring you out so that a court-case will seem a minor thing." He sighed. "It will take time to relieve the Citadel. I wish we had a fleet at hand, but this attack was carefully planned to catch us when our ships were away."

  "I have a feeling they've made plans to keep our fleets away," said Benito. "This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment attack, Petro."

  "No," the Doge agreed grimly. "It wasn't."

  Chapter 62

  The court hearing was somewhat different from Benito's previous appearances. For starters, there were many more people there. For a second, Benito's sword was not even in the same building.

  Petro had insisted on that. He'd also insisted that Benito swear out a charge against Justice Capuletti for treason.

  "I'm sure it was just pettiness," demurred Benito, uncomfortable at the idea. "Revenge on the Valdosta."

  Petro Dorma shook his head. "You're probably right. We probably won't make the charges themselves stick. But—and this is the point of it, Benito; you're still a political innocent—the mud will stick."

  * * *

  Petro Dorma's own legal counsel stood for Benito. He started by reading the synopsis of Benito's travels as told to the clerk. "Your Honors, it was necessary to have someone who could travel disguised as a commoner, yet whose testimony would be accepted at the highest level. Someone who was also skilled with weapons and subterfuge. With respect, your honors, there wasn't much of a choice. I think you will grant that he plays the part of a scruffy common sailor to perfection, and his skills with weapons and—ah—subterfuge cannot be gainsaid."

  The Justices laughed; so did the audience. Benito tried not to squirm in his seat.

  "He's a troublesome young blade," confessed the counsel. "And yet, to those of us who know him, he is utterly reliable. So reliable that Prince Manfred of Brittany chose to make him his personal messenger—and that Eneko Lopez, a churchman whose moral integrity is a byword, also trusted him to bring further vital information to the Hypatians, and thus, the Grand Metropolitan."

  The chief Justice nodded. "You have made your point. Continue, signor."

  Counsel turned to Benito. "We have now read the synopsis of your journey as transcribed by the Clerk, Michael Di Coulo. Benito Valdosta, you have had an opportunity to hear it. Is this a faithful and accurate account of your travels and your efforts to bring word to Venice?"

  Benito nodded. "Pretty much."

  "You do not mention your dealings with the Hypatian church in Messina, other than to say you overnighted there."

  Benito shrugged. "I accidentally recovered their property and returned it to them. It didn't seem to have much bearing on either Corfu or Venice."

  Rather dramatically, the counsel brandished a sheet of paper. "Nonetheless I have here a letter from the Patriarch, thanking you for your efforts for the Church, and stating that the Church would be glad to provide witnesses proving you were of great service to them." He paused. "Your Honors, we have here a young man who has served the Republic well, and the Church also. His banishment was for acts not of treason, but simply youthful folly. The banishment was due to be considered by the Senate on this very day. It seems likely that it will be rescinded, in any event. This case, with respect, must be considered on its merits. I appeal to you to consider any transgression in the light of the service performed."

  The chief Justice steepled his fingers. "Does the prisoner have anything to add to this?"

  Benito shook his head. "Except to say that if there had been anyone available who could have done what I did, or have done it better, they'd have been sent. We didn't have much time to make up our minds before the cannon were emplaced. And it is my intention to return to Corfu as soon as I can. I may not be able to get back into the Citadel, but I can join the irregular forces who are harrying King Emeric's rear. I've only stayed on here to show my respect for the law of the Republic and for the Doge. I came to give warning. I'll leave as soon as I am permitted to go. Unless there is need to warn or need to stand by the Republic I won't be back."

  He allowed a trace of hurt to enter his voice. "I know when my presence is unwelcome. But the Valdosta honor their responsibilities, their promises, and their debts. We owe a great deal to Doge Dorma and to Venice."

  The chief Justice scratched his chin. "Benito Valdosta, it is not that this court is unaware that the Republic owes the Casa Valdosta and you in particular a debt of honor, or that we do not understand why you undertook this mission. It is not even that Venice does not want you back, despite the fact that, as your eloquent defender put it, you're a troublesome young blade. The problem that this court faces is that despite the best of intentions your actions breached the law. And Venetian law is not arbitrary. It applies to everyone, regardless. What we wish to see is how we can combine Venetian law with Venetian justice. The court can grant clemency for your breaking of your banishment, under the circumstances. What is difficult is your conduct within the court. We cannot allow anyone to assault a Justice within his own court and get away with it."

  Admiral Dourso rose to his feet. "Your Honor, may I offer the court a piece of information. The Justice to whom you refer is not on the bench today. The reason for his absence is that he is in fact in custody of the Signori di Notte, charged with treason and conspiring to aid an enemy of the Republic."

  The Schiopettieri had to sound their rattles to restore order.

  "Nevertheless . . . Yes, what is it, Signor Di Coulo?"

  The little clerk who had written out Benito's story had advanced to address the Justices. "Your Honors. To prosecute Benito Valdosta for threatening Justice Capuletti you will need witnesses. I have to tell Your Honors, there are none. I will however testify that Justice Capuletti gave me this black eye when he assaulted me on that day. Schiopettieri de Felts will also testify that he inflicted an injury on the Justice, who appeared to be in a violent and disturbed state. The Justice was plainly not in his right mind that day, your Honors."

  The chief Justice looked severely at the little clerk. "As a clerk of this court, you must be aware that you and these others are thwarting the law."

  The little man didn't quaver. "We are aiding justice, Your Honors."

  At this point a messenger entered the courtroom with a note, which he took to the chief Justice. The latter peered at it. "Ah. It appears that the first charge of breaking your banishment no longer stands. The Senate has decided to lift your banishment, and override the court for what is described as reasons of state." There was disapproval written on every line of the chief Justice's face. "And they have made this retroactive from the sixth of June of this year. So this charge is thereby struck from the roll. And as it appears we have no witnesses for—"

  Benito stood up. "Your Honor. I appreciate the gesture of Senate. I also appreciate the fact that the people of Venice have shown their love for the Casa Valdosta in their testimony . . . or lack thereof. But I cannot accept it. The truth is—I did return when I was banished. I must admit that I didn't even give it a thought. My period of exile is both fair and right. I came to give warning because that was more important. I'll leave as soon as I can. I transgressed the letter of the law. If you like you can put me in prison, or, as is common in times of war, put me
into the military. I'm volunteering anyway. My name is already on the list on the pillar of the Winged Lion of Saint Mark. Why not put me into a military encampment—like the Arsenal—until I leave for Corfu, and my banishment can continue? As for Justice Capuletti, I admit I did threaten him with a naked blade in his own courtroom. If need be I'd have cut his throat for the people of Corfu's sake. You need no witnesses. I admit guilt. Now the Court can decide what it is going to do about it."

  In the silence that followed, only one person spoke. Lodovico Montescue. "Valdosta honor!" he said, almost shouting.

  Then, with satisfaction and pride: "Now, Justices of Venice, the Valdosta have challenged your honor. What is more important? The spirit of justice and the honor of the Republic for a loyal son—or the dry letter of the law?"

  The Justices looked to the chief Justice. He sat with his fingers steepled looking at Benito.

  One of the younger Justices suddenly spoke. "I would like to recuse myself. I cannot give impartial judgment."

  The other young one—young being a relative term, thought Benito, the fellow must be about sixty—cleared his throat. "I, too, am going to recuse myself."

  The chief Justice looked more than a little taken aback. "Spinosa! You cannot just abandon the law when it suits you."

  "We who administer the law tend to begin to think it sacred," Justice Spinosa said, stoutly. "It isn't. Justice is. And we forget that the law we administer is by grace of the Republic, and the Republic stands by the vox populi. Anyone who believes the law can stand without the people and without justice, is deceiving themselves."

  "Thank you for reminding me of our status quamdiu se bene gesserit," said the chief Justice, dourly. "It is something that few have the courage to do. Nonetheless I will continue to act as both the law and my conscience dictate."