They finished loading Timandra’s wares as the soldiers formed up for the march down to the city gate, the gently sloping plain a broad meadow shining with thousands of buttercups. Timandra passed Acquel the reins to one of the mules. “Here, you can lead him into town. I’ll ride the other.”
Acquel nodded. He was tense with excitement to see a city other than Livorna and to lay eyes upon the great sea for the first time. He remembered his dream again, becoming so lost in his reverie that he didn’t hear Stryker coming up behind him.
“Are you well, Brother Acquel?” the captain said, sat astride a gleaming dark brown courser.
Acquel turned and looked up, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. “I am, sir.”
“I want you to stay close to the Widow Pandarus today—and me. Understood?”
Acquel nodded. Not much chance of anything else he reckoned, for he didn’t know a soul where they were going.
Strykar tugged his reins and moved down the assembling column to seek out Poule. The chosen were now moving into columns of two, the old sergeant bellowing at the stragglers. Poule stood watching as Strykar approached, admiring his captain’s embossed breastplate and jet black cloak that trailed over the horse’s cruppers, fastened by a great silver chain and escutcheons to the leather breastplate straps. His round shield, embossed with some scene of great slaughter, hung at the high rear of the saddle. Comes of having the right friends, he mused, even as he broke into a broad smile.
“You look an imposing sight, my captain! I suggest you leave the harness on if you do business with Palestrian ladies. They’re a rum lot and partial to sliding a knife into a ribcage.” He took hold of the bridle and patted the neck of the fine mount.
Strykar surveyed the camp from the vantage of the saddle. “I’ll send word back for you to send another party into the town. Once I see what Danamis has planned.”
Poule nodded. “We’ll await your orders. Expecting anything different from last time?”
Strykar leaned back, his saddle creaking. “No. But I haven’t forgotten about the Temple guard in Livorna. I wouldn’t put it past them to be trailing us. Don’t let the watch sleep.”
Poule moved a half step closer and lowered his voice. “I don’t think the monk will run. He’s a good enough sort. It’s just I don’t trust what he carries with him.”
Strykar bent over, his steel vambrace clacking as it rested on his thigh armour. “You’re the one who armed him,” he said.
“I wasn’t talking about the blade,” replied Poule. “That little jewelled trinket is cursed. And I don’t think the lad has any more idea about what it is—or what controls it—than we do. I’m just saying… have a care.”
“I haven’t forgotten that either. But I’d rather have him under my nose than out of my sight.” He straightened up and glanced back to the men. “Time we moved off. I will send word later. Fare you well!”
Poule released the horse’s bridle and raised his hand in salute. “And a successful barter for you with the pirates!”
CAPTAIN STRYKAR LED the way through the heavy iron-studded gates of the palazzo, his retinue and strange cargo following behind. Danamis stood at the porchway, hands on hips, in a dark red slashed doublet, hose and brown knee-length boots, his falchion hanging at the waist. The rondelieri made a good entrance, he would give them that, their helmets and shields shining in the mid-day sun. He was no soldier nor had he ever witnessed a land battle, but he knew how these rondelieri were employed. Advancing at the rear of spearmen and pole-arm men, they would peel off and make a run at the flanks of the enemy’s spear formations, hacking their way in with sword and shield until the square would disintegrate from the attack, front and rear. They were renowned for their tenacity and endurance. His eyes fell to the pack mules with their black oilcloth bundles. It was going to be an interesting reunion with Strykar, that he knew. He had already sent Escalus down to the vault to bring up the bags of golden ducats, a pay-out that would leave him with next to nothing, and that would only cover him for the previous shipment of myrra that he had given over to the merfolk during the disastrous exchange.
Two groomsmen came running out to take hold of Strykar’s mount and Danamis walked out to meet the captain as he swung out of his saddle, his armour jangling as his boots hit the dusty red clay of the courtyard. They embraced; Strykar, nearly a head taller, slapping the younger man on the back.
“Well met, my lord!” said Strykar, holding Danamis by the shoulders. “You look none the worse since last we met. How goes it now in Palestro?”
Danamis laughed and clapped the captain on his pauldron. “As well as can do for an admiral in the service of the king. Which is, to say, often leaving me wishing I was a pirate again!”
They heard the gate slam and Danamis’s retainers lowering the great bar. Strykar turned and waved his hands towards the pack mules.
“And here is your shipment, Nico, safe and sound. Where do you wish it?”
Danamis chuckled nervously. “Excellent. Have your men bring it into the palace where my people will take care of it.” His eyes settled on Timandra where she was standing with Acquel. “And I see you have brought us the Widow Pandarus as well. It is good to see her again.”
Strykar gestured and Timandra came over to them, Acquel at her heels. Danamis smiled and bowed his head as he took her hands in his. “You are welcome again in Palestro, mistress. I hope you find much here to replenish your stock.”
She inclined her head in return. “I am pleased that the saints have allowed me the favour of seeing Palestro and you again, my lord.”
Danamis looked past her to a somewhat awkward looking man whose partially shaved head said he was a monk but whose garb told a different tale. “And who is this, Strykar?”
“This is… Acquel, a monk in search of some proper vestments.” He laughed. “You know, the company lost the last one to an unfortunate illness.”
Acquel smiled and bowed deeply. Danamis’s eye did not fail to catch the dagger on his hip.
“Well met and welcome, Brother Acquel,” said Danamis, his curiosity now piqued. “I trust you will find what you require here in Palestro. Perhaps even… some new clothes.”
Acquel’s eyes remained downcast. “Thank you, my lord—my admiral… sir.”
Danamis looked to Strykar again. “We can billet your men in the outbuilding as last time. If that will be acceptable. I’ll have water and wine brought out to them presently. We have quarters for Mistress Pandarus and Brother Acquel inside. My castellan will see to it.”
Strykar nodded. “Most generous.”
Danamis touched Strykar on the arm gently. “While the goods are unloaded, I think we should talk inside. A lot has happened in the last six months.”
Acquel took a half step forward but Timandra pulled at his doublet, holding him back, and announced that she had to see to her goods. Danamis called to a retainer to help her, then ushered Strykar into the palazzo and the sunlit inner courtyard and arcade. Already a servant had laid out a platter of olives and breads, the wine being poured out into goblets. Another servant followed bearing a huge silver plate piled with roasted fowl and set it down upon the table near to the fountain and couches.
Danamis motioned for Strykar to seat himself. He did so, yet awkwardly in his armour.
“I can have my man help you get that harness off if you like,” said Danamis.
Strykar shook his head. “Nay, no bother. I’d rather start on this food.”
Danamis handed a goblet to Strykar and then picked up the other for himself. “And now my friend, I will raise my drink to you and the Black Rose. And then, I will tell you of events of late, and it is not altogether good news.”
Strykar raised an eyebrow as he took a long swig of wine. He lowered the cup and reached for a chicken drumstick. “I’m listening.”
Danamis told him of the voyage, the attack on the merfolk, and the aftermath. As the tale went on, Strykar’s demeanour darkened. When Danamis finished, the mercenary sat bac
k and stared at the fountain.
“So, the trade is over?”
“I do not know. I would like to try again at the next full moon but they may not show themselves.”
Strykar nodded. “And so that brings us to the money, doesn’t it?”
Danamis looked him in the eye. “It does. I can pay you for the last shipment. But not for the one you bring today.”
“And you may not have a customer for it anymore.”
“I won’t lie to you, I don’t know. They crave the leaf so perhaps they will come back. At least the fools didn’t kill any of the mermen.”
Strykar ran his hand along his square-cut beard. “Like you, I’ve got to pay my men.”
“I can offer you a vessel—two—until I get the trade going again.”
Strykar snorted. “Do I look like a fucking sailor?”
Danamis smiled and shook his head. “Well, I thought it was worth putting on the table.”
“Aye, well, you and me go back a long way. I reckon you might have just enough credit—and I mean just enough—that we can work something out.” He set down his goblet and held out his hand to the Palestrian. “And you’re still the only admiral I know. Who knows when I’ll need a boat?”
Danamis seized his hand tightly. “The Lord love you, my friend!”
“My lord.” It was Escalus, standing at the pillars of the arcade. “I must needs speak with you.” Danamis could see how large his eyes were, as if something terrible had just happened.
As Danamis reached his side, the castellan grabbed his upper arm and whispered into his ear. “Who else has a key to the strongbox you brought from the ship?”
Danamis scowled. “There are only two. You know that. What’s happened?”
“The sacks inside the chest. They are filled with stones. There is no gold. None.”
Danamis took a step back, his ears beginning to ring. “Sweet God. That can’t be. I loaded it myself on ship. I locked the chest.”
Escalus’s face was ashen. “When? When did you last see the gold?”
“Two days before we made port.” And then his voice dropped even lower. “But I did not open it once afterwards.”
“Two days at sea,” hissed Escalus. “And you with the only key. Then how could someone have stolen it all? This is a new strongbox, is it not? I had not seen it before this last voyage.”
A sick feeling flooded over Danamis. “It was given to me before the voyage. By Uncle Tetch.”
“My lord, if this is Tetch’s work, it’s far more than thievery, it’s a mutiny. And this is the first shot.”
Ten
“YOU HAVE A fine way of demonstrating hospitality, Captain Danamis.” said Strykar, resigned to the fact that his trade deal was probably now stone-dead and the prospect of his treasure a fading fancy. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”
Danamis had taken the mercenary up to the mezzanine to gain some privacy. “If I find out it was him, I will kill him myself.” He had finished the last of his wine, the base of the goblet he now tapped on the balcony, trying to contain a simmering rage. “I just don’t understand why Tetch would do this. Makes no sense.”
“Love of gold never makes any sense. It just is. I suggest you drag his arse here before he spends it all.”
Danamis scanned the portico below for Escalus who had, inconveniently, made himself scarce. He had muttered something about “securing the cellars” and had left. That had been more than an hour ago, and now he had to deal with a mercenary who he was in debt to up to his neck, and Strykar’s forty unpaid men were itching to get some coin or else take it in-kind from his house.
“No point in summoning him. If he’s guilty he’ll take to Firedrake. If he’s not on her already. I had best lead a party to his house unannounced.” He scraped the silver goblet along the railing. “The untrustworthy bastard.”
Strykar folded his arms. “Shall my men come with you? I’ve got a vested interest in this after all.”
Danamis nodded.
“These things are best handled with speed,” said Strykar. “I counsel we move on him now. This very instant. If you’re in agreement I will have the men prepare. We’ve got a few crossbowmen of our own.”
Danamis looked at Strykar, decision finally taking hold. “Agreed, I will summon my men-at-arms.”
HE HATED WEARING it, but going where he was going, the studded red velvet brigantine of plates was a prudent measure. He tugged at the padded arming doublet underneath to seat it properly on his shoulders as a retainer finished buckling the side straps. Another retainer reached around to secure his light woollen cloak. Danamis took the sword belt as it was handed to him and buckled it on himself. His tan leather gauntlets he pulled up over his white cambric shirtsleeves. How could he have done such a thing? He was near enough blood.
“My lord!” A retainer came into the loggia at a trot. “This just delivered at the gate.” He held out a velvet pouch. “There’s also some commotion outside, my lord. Shouting and such outside the wall.”
Danamis opened the pouch. In it was an ornate iron key—a twin to his own and the third to the strongbox. He felt his face flush as he pulled out the parchment note that lay in the pouch with it.
Come outside nephew. The die is cast. Surrender yourself and the palazzo to me and your people will be left in peace.
Danamis let the note drop from his hand as he walked out into the courtyard to the sounds of the mob gathered beyond his gate. The noise was a rolling rumble of harsh cries, whoops, and laughter. He could hear the steady beat of a large drum underneath it all—doom, doom, doom—orchestrating the crowd beyond the wall.
His liveried house men stood about the courtyard, looking confused, unbelieving that the palazzo was under attack. Danamis sprinted to the small iron grating that was at head height in the great double oak gate. Already it was squeaking at the hinges from unknown hands pushing on it. He stood to the side then quickly put one eye to the opening. He saw hundreds of men filling the square, all armed, swords and glaives gleaming, and more were streaming in from the surrounding streets. They were seamen and soldiers alike.
My God. So many.
He took a step back as a brown jug shattered at the grating. Strykar was now at his side, buckling his sword belt.
“What’s this then?” he said. “Has Tetch come to us instead to save us the trouble?”
Danamis nodded. “He’s got at least three ship crews out there.”
Strykar chanced a glance through the gate and then moved away. “It’s been three months since I had a good scrap but I wish I had the rest of the company in here with me to even the odds. I don’t know what you did to piss off this lot but you’ve got a rebellion on your hands.”
Danamis looked around him, and half a dozen men-at-arms wearing his tabards of red and white stared back at him. He remembered Gregor’s warning of two nights ago and he cursed himself. Cursed himself for his self-pity and for his wishful thinking that it would all work out for the best if he just let it be for a week or two. Now, he was betrayed.
A great trumpet blast sounded beyond the walls, and then another. Like a dying whirlwind, the cries of the mob subsided, leaving only a low rumble of voices without. Danamis looked at Strykar who raised an eyebrow in reply.
“Captain Danamis!”
The voice of Giacomo Tetch bellowed out, echoing off of the tall façade of the palazzo.“Come now! Surrender yourself. We’ve all had enough of your ill-made plans and your trade with the fishmen.” Danamis walked closer to the gate, silent. “Danamis! You’ve lost command. The Council has had enough. It’s getting late in the day, boy, so let’s make an end to this.”
“You are a treacherous one-eyed son of a whore!” Danamis shouted out.
A rumble of laughter floated over the wall.
“Now be careful, boy! Where did your mother get to after she whelped you?”
More laughter. Danamis felt his heart hammering away.
Tetch spoke out again. “Look, you come
out and surrender to us and we leave your household alone. And I know you’ve got some Black Rose soldiers in there too. We don’t have no fight with them. They can go free as they please.”
Strykar shot a glance through the grating. “The bastard is moving up a ship’s cannon lashed on a handcart. This gate won’t hold up after a few rounds from that. This is your house. What’s your plan?”
Danamis was trying his best to think calmly as waves of red fury rushed over him. They could try and cut their way out, but in close confines, even the rondelieri would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. They might reinforce the gate but there was now no time for that. He looked at Strykar. “I’m the one who has stepped in this turd. Take your men and get out while you can.”
Strykar shook his head. “I trust that fucker about as much as a Naresis rug merchant. No, I’ll get the chosen men into harness again. We can try and get out another way.” He paused. “There is another way out of here, isn’t there?”
Danamis’s chin fell a little. “There was. But not anymore.”
“There is, my lord!” A voice from behind them brought them both around. It was Escalus, striding towards them. He rapidly closed the distance between them and spoke in an urgent whisper. “Captain, you must take the old tunnel in the cellars that leads out to the culvert below us.”
“My father bricked that up years ago,” shot back Danamis.
Escalus shook his head. “No, listen to me. There is another portal down there that connects to it. Your father wanted everyone to think it had been walled up. Including Tetch.”
Another trumpet blast sounded followed by Tetch’s voice rising over the wall.
“My patience is running thin, boy! You might have noticed our little falconet out here. I’ve got it pointed at your gate, and I wouldn’t bet a brass denari that it will last even two rounds!”
“My lord,” said Escalus, “Gregorvero moved the Grace last night into the middle of the harbour. He’s waiting for you there now. And I took the precaution last night of moving a few bags of ducats out there with him when he left. He says most of the fleet has gone over to Tetch but some crews are fighting it out. You’ll need to go to the west side of the harbour and board longboats from there. You must go now!”
The Guns of Ivrea Page 10
