As they walked nothing was said. Only the clanking of armour and jangle of harness sounded as they passed great murals of ancient battles, depictions of Saint Elded preaching, the occasional alabaster statue of a naked nymph or bearded warrior, and dripping marble fountains set into dark corners. Danamis glanced up to see the entire ceiling carved in plasterwork of acanthus, oak, and pinecones with the twin griffons upon shields painted at each end of every segment of corridor. He heard a scratching of running claws on the tiled floor, and turned to see a cockatrice the size of a large goat approaching from behind. It sidled up and kept pace with them, its talons slipping on the smooth tiles and only its serpent body and long tail keeping it stable. It angled its head and blinked a beady red eye at Danamis, coxcomb shaking. Danamis saw that it wore a golden collar and a medallion which jingled as it shook itself as if it were a dog. It angled its head again, clacked its beak and squawked raucously before running on ahead. The captain of the guard gave its tail a gentle whack with the haft of his halberd as it shot past him.
“I hate those things,” mumbled Strykar as he walked, his hand on hilt. “Shouldn’t be allowed inside.”
The party turned into a large square hall lavishly draped with embroidered tapestries that rose up three times the height of a man. He could smell the dank and dust of years on them and the room was close and stuffy despite its height.
Hunting scenes, thought Danamis, snorting in derision, knowing well the king’s excessive interest in sport at the expense of just about everything else. Strykar pointed to a large fresh white turd on the floor where the cockatrice had paused before heading down another branching hall.
The captain of the guard stepped forward and knocked three times on the great rectangular doors that Danamis knew from past visits led to the throne room. The doors opened with nary a squeak and he motioned Danamis and Strykar forward. The chamber was lit by tall windows on one side, a great chandelier overhead and wall sconces on the far wall. On either side thick draperies of rich velvet and satin brocades, bright blue and red, brightened the chamber further. As he entered the room, Danamis could see that the throne on the canopied dais was empty. Instead, to the left, his folded hands lost in the voluminous sleeves of his black houppelande gown, stood Baron Raganus, the king’s chamberlain.
“Lord Danamis and Captain Strykar, welcome. It is good of you to finally pay your respects at the palace.”
Danamis bowed curtly, his ears burning at the slight. “My lord. Our journey here has been an unlucky one and an attempt on my life has delayed our arrival further.”
“Ah, yes. I had heard about that but was not sure if it was dockside rumour. But clearly, you have survived. And looking reasonably well, it seems.”
“A knife wound. But short of the mark.”
Raganus’s eyes widened. “I was unaware you had been injured. I am glad you are well.” Danamis looked at the relic standing in front of him and smiled. Raganus dressed thirty years in the past, his grey hair cropped in a bowl cut and slicked with duck grease and scented olive oil.
“I was expecting an audience with his majesty,” said Danamis, his voice conveying polite dismay.
“Were you? I seem to remember dictating the summons myself. It was a summons to court—not necessarily to see the king.”
“That’s rather disappointing,” said Strykar. “The admiral has undergone great trouble in coming here.”
“We know why you have come to Perusia. The fleet has mutinied and you were forced to make a run for it.” Danamis was silent. Raganus smiled smugly. “We do have our means of gaining intelligence. Quickly too, I might say.”
“It is true,” replied Danamis. “Giacomo Tetch has seized the fleet. But not without a fight.”
Raganus nodded. “Seized? Or offered command?”
“Offered command? By whom?” Danamis snapped. “I am the king’s admiral in Palestro. No man has the right to take that away other than the king.”
Raganus slowly paced the chamber as he played with his chain of office. “You are right in that. And I suppose you are here to ask for men and ships to get Palestro back?”
Danamis slowly wheeled to follow the perambulating toad as he made his way across the mosaic tiles. “It is as much a slight to Sempronius that Tetch has seized the fleet. And an encouragement to others to challenge the king’s word. It must not stand.”
Raganus turned and faced Danamis. “The king and his councillors must first establish what happened. To find out where loyalties lie. To ferret out the facts of the situation.”
Danamis’s anger welled. “Do you doubt my loyalty to the king? My service to the crown?”
“The king does not doubt your loyalty in the slightest, Nicolo Danamis.” It was a voice from across the room. All turned to see the heavy draperies part and Sempronius II enter the chamber, a mischievous grin on his wide, thin-lipped mouth. The captain of the guard belatedly banged the haft of his halberd on the floor and Raganus bowed low, both arms held wide. Danamis and Strykar, taken aback, made hurried awkward obeisance and Danamis gave a flourish as he doffed his cap.
“I sometimes let Raganus go too far in playing the cat’s-paw. But the chamberlain must do his duty and generally he does a good job of it.”
The baron bowed again, slightly unsure whether he had been insulted or not.
The king grasped the facings of his cloth-of-gold gown and stepped up onto the dais. He was an unassuming man for one who was king, of no great height or build, long black hair streaked now with grey. His eyes were large, perhaps too large for his face, his nose round and just shy of bulbous. He moved to the blackwood throne, gilded and upholstered in dark shades of velvet fabric, and plopped down without grace or ceremony. Danamis noticed that the sole of one of his bright red shoes was holed.
“I thought it better we meet outside a public audience. You do understand… given what has happened of late. Better for you I should think.” The king extended his right hand and Danamis approached, stepped up onto the dais and then knelt on one knee. He kissed the hand and ring with the royal seal and then stepped back.
“I am grateful, my liege, that you have afforded me the honour.”
“Well, the timing of your difficulties could have been better, Danamis. What with the arrival of the Sinaens and all. I’ve just been drowning in the planning. You wouldn’t believe the details. Or, maybe you would… I mean, as a commander of men.”
Two of the palace guard now flanked the throne, staring straight ahead as Danamis took another pace backwards and formulated his response.
“Sire, I would not deign to tell you what your councillors have undoubtedly already told you. It is true that Giacomo Tetch has seized the fleet. But not without a fight and not unopposed even now I am sure. With your help, I propose to sail back to Palestro and defeat him.”
The king leaned forward, his hands resting on his thighs. “Yes, troubling tidings, Lord Danamis, troubling indeed. And, I am told, there was an attempt on your life since your arrival in Perusia?”
“That is also true, sire. And I suspect that too was Tetch’s doing.”
“He appears to have a long reach. Ah, family squabbles are the saddest of all.”
Danamis bristled. “With respect, sire. He is not actually my uncle.”
Sempronius raised a hand in weak supplication. “Oh, of course. It’s just that I remember your father held him a close friend and advisor—like a brother.”
“His loyalty was skin deep.”
“Yes, apparently so…” The king wrinkled his nose. “My lad, all this curious trade with the fishmen… seems to have stirred things up with the common folk. Not to mention the priests. You know, I did tell your father that this myrra trade with the heathen was ill-advised. But I recognised his need to raise revenue in abeyance of his former activities on the high seas. Now it appears to have borne bad fruit.”
Danamis could feel the ground starting to open up at his feet. “Be that as it may, sire, this mutiny by Tetch is an atta
ck on your house through me.”
The king sat back. “Is it really? Raganus, has Tetch renounced allegiance?”
The baron glanced at Danamis and bowed his head to the king. “We have heard nothing from him, sire.”
Sempronius opened his hands expansively. “Well, you see Lord Danamis, we are not in possession of all of the facts yet, are we?”
Danamis could hear Strykar behind him clearing his throat in annoyance. He shifted his weight onto his other leg, hand on sword pommel. “My liege, are you saying you will not help your admiral of the southern fleet?”
The king narrowed his eyes. “I did not say anything of the sort, Lord Danamis. And your impatience marks you as somewhat impetuous—and insubordinate.”
Danamis bowed. “I apologise, sire, if I have given offence.”
“We will take the matter under consideration. But this week I have more pressing matters with these very odd Sinaens. So many details to deal with. And they have so many blasted questions about everything. The feast alone will cost me thousands! At least we will have some good sport though.”
Danamis felt his shoulders sag. “If your majesty requires further details I will of course divulge them.”
The king waved his hand. “Yes, yes, Raganus will meet with you if we need to know anything more. But you will attend the tournament of course, no? And Captain Strykar, yes I see you standing back there. I would be most pleased if you would enter the lists yourself. I’m sure your brother would approve, even though he is not coming.” Danamis gave a half turn in surprise but stopped so as not to turn his back on the king. Strykar moved alongside Danamis and bowed. Sempronius smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. He hasn’t told you of his family connections?”
Danamis looked at Strykar whose cheeks and nose were now flushed scarlet.
“Captain Strykar here is the brother of the Duke of Maresto.”
“Half-brother,” Strykar whispered.
“And let us not forget the stag hunt. I am so looking forward to that tomorrow,” the king said. “I am told that in the Silk Empire they don’t even have stags. Can you believe that?”
“I was not aware of that, sire.” Danamis’s tone was weary.
“I will certainly expect both of you there for that,” replied the king. “I will have the invitation sent to your ship by the end of the day. Raganus?”
“It will be done, sire!”
“Excellent! Now, I must return to the arrangements for the feast and the tournament… and all the other details.” He shook his head and stood. Everyone bowed and the king smiled amiably. “Very good. Raganus, see our honoured guests out of the palace.”
As the captain of the palace guard led them back down the long corridor at what seemed a double-quick pace, Danamis turned and looked at Strykar.
“You never told me.”
“It wasn’t an important detail. My father never acknowledged me.”
Danamis shook his head. “The Duke of Maresto. Elded’s bollocks.” He paused and then looked back at the mercenary. “What do you think the chances are the king will help me?”
Strykar kept looking ahead, his armour jangling each step he took. “About the same as me avoiding the stag hunt.”
GIACOMO TETCH ITCHED the whiskers on his throat and clicked his tongue. “Not looking down your nose at folks anymore, are you Master Escalus?” He put his hands on his hips and ambled about the loggia of what had been Danamis’s villa.
Escalus stood unsteadily, supported by two of Tetch’s men, bloody drool pouring down his chin from lips that were swollen purple as an overripe plum. One eye was puffed shut and as his head sagged down one of the pirates jerked him up by his long dank hair. Tetch reached down to the side of the marble fountain and picked up the long thin curving blade of a Southland sword. He hefted it and tossed it from one hand to another.
“Very light. And fast too, I imagine.”
“And he spitted poor Donato and Biaggi before we could disarm him,” mumbled one of the men next to Tetch.
Tetch turned to the man. “Ramus, what did you say he was doing when you found him at the gate?”
“He put two bitches on a horse and was giving them instructions or some such. When he saw us coming he sent them off at a gallop and turned to take us on.”
Tetch clicked his tongue again. “La, la, la. Now I wonder who they were and why you thought they wouldn’t be happy here anymore.”
Ramus chuckled and Tetch reached for a silver goblet. “You know, Escalus, my men have searched every corner—every cranny—of this place and we have yet to find a single piece of treasure. All that treasure of House Danamis.” He raised up his cup. “However, we do find hundreds of casks of passable wine in the cellars. Not much Milvornan, mind you, but passable. So that is some consolation.”
Escalus’s swollen lips moved. His voice was barely a rasp. “There is no treasure anymore. What was left he took.”
“I am inclined to believe you. My men have beaten you half to death already for no answers and I suppose I’ve got the lion’s share anyway.”
Escalus raised his head. “You have nothing. You are without loyalty… or honour.”
Tetch smiled a black-toothed grin and lashed out, slapping him with an open palm. “Honour? That boy ran with his tail tucked firmly between his little bollocks. I’ve been eating his table scraps for six years but not anymore.”
Another soldier came into the loggia, his face red with exertion. “Captain, there’s a another message here from Perusia, by way of the Palestro prelate.”
Tetch held out his hand and the took the tiny rolled scroll. Even with his vision now blurred, Escalus could see that it was a pigeon-borne scroll, tightly curled. And his heart sank further as he realised that the temple priests were providing intelligence to Tetch. He watched as Tetch moved his lips to sound out the writing, his eyes screwed up and his nose practically touching the paper.
“Goddamn fools!” Tetch’s fist crushed the note into a little wad and it fell to the tiles. He turned to Ramus. “They bungled it! He even met with the king today, the little bugger.” He shook his head and swore.
Escalus began to cough, his chest convulsing. The cough slowly became a laugh. “The boy… not so weak as you think… he’ll be back to slit your throat. I swear it.”
The smile returned to Tetch’s face, his one eye blinking rapidly for a moment. “I will never understand why Valerian Danamis brought you back from that Southland hole… Naresis, wasn’t it?” He turned to Ramus. “Get down to the docks. The squadron sails tomorrow. Tell the others!” He turned his attention back to Escalus. “Sometimes there’s no point in others doing your own work, is there? Now what was you and me wagging our chins about before?” He ran his thumb down the sword he still held.
Escalus spat a bloodied spray towards Tetch. “Your miserable lack of loyalty… and honour!”
Tetch wiped his doublet and nodded. “Yes, honour. Do you know what they say is the worst dishonour a man can suffer? I mean… other than having his balls cut off.”
Escalus gave one last effort to throw off the arms of his captors. His head jutted forward as he made for Tetch but, strength all but gone, he crumpled.
“It’s being killed with his own sword.” His right arm drew back and with a rapid thrust he drove the blade through Escalus’s belly and felt it bite between the back ribs and then push out the other side. “My greetings to your Southlander comrades in hell.”
Twenty-Two
TIMANDRA FASTENED THE grey cloak she had liberated from the captain’s cabin about Acquel’s neck and freed up the hood at the back. She had already placed a shawl over her neck and shoulders as they prepared to make their unannounced trip ashore.
Danamis and Strykar had been gone for an hour and Timandra judged that if they were to have a moment to find the oculist, then it would have to be now. They loitered at the larboard rail near the sterncastle steps as Timandra carefully watched masters Bassinio and Gregorvero deep in conversation up in the fo’
c’sle. They were arguing about the carpenter’s work again and Gregorvero was in favour of letting the work pass as was while Bassinio demanded perfection. There were two sailors now stationed at the gangplank leading to the dock. A third—a rondelieri—had just gone to the fo’c’sle to relieve himself. The chances that Danamis’s men would stop them were small and she knew it was now or never.
She yanked Acquel’s forearm and the two calmly walked to the gangway and ascended the short step over the low railing. Timandra had just put one foot over when one of the sailors reached out and held her.
“Where are you off to, then?”
Timandra turned to him, her face stern. “Off to buy food since you lot don’t seem to know what food is.”
He smiled and grinned at his companion. “Well, little mistress, by all means. Piss off. But bring me back some pig!”
Acquel tutted and followed Timandra down the gangplank.
They were soon striding across the wooden dock and ascending the stone steps leading to the pier side and the piazza beyond. As they entered the warren of lanes, Acquel pulled up the hood of his cloak and Timandra placed her shawl over her head. The streets, narrow as they were, were heaving with people, many pouring out from the main thoroughfare that led through the centre of the seaport up to the palace. Timandra and Acquel fought the flow of rough humanity as they made their way towards Guildsmens’ Row. They were briefly spun around at one point by the press of bodies, so Acquel took the lead as Timandra gripped his shoulder and shouted directions into his ear.
The Guns of Ivrea Page 21
