Iron William and the Carpenter's Tears

by Michael Gardner

  IRON WILLIAM AND THE CARPENTER’S TEARS

  Michael Gardner

  Iron William and the Carpenter’s Tears

  First published in New Zealand in 2013 by Page Up Publishing

  ISBN-13: 9780473230715

  ISBN-10: 0473230712

  Copyright © 2013 by Michael Gardner

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters real or otherwise, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real.

  Edited by Athena Crowley

  Cover design: Stu Wilkinson

  Acknowledgements

  My sincere thanks to everyone who helped to create this book.

  Special thanks to my Patreon subscribers for their invaluable support. Extra special thanks to my Patreon champions!

  Visit my Patreon page for exclusive content, free stories and more.

  For Brenna

  Contents

  Chapter 01 ~ CARDINAL CHOICES

  Chapter 02 ~ A CHURCH ON THE HILL

  Chapter 03 ~ OUT OF THE FIRE AND INTO HOT WATER

  Chapter 04 ~ LORICA SEGMENTATA

  Chapter 05 ~ HARD LESSONS

  Chapter 06 ~ THE HYDRA’S KISS

  Chapter 07 ~ A PILGRIM IN ROME

  Chapter 08 ~ ANOTHER (BLOODY) CHURCH

  Chapter 09 ~ THE CONFESSION OF JABEZ

  Chapter 10 ~ THE SECOND SCROLL

  Chapter 11 ~ MAD TOM FLINT

  Chapter 12 ~ CLOAKS AND DAGGERS

  Chapter 13 ~ FRIEND OR FOE

  Chapter 14 ~ FIRE AND ACID

  Chapter 15 ~ FLIGHT OF THE MASALA

  Chapter 16 ~ BLOOD IN THE RIGGING

  Chapter 17 ~ STREETS OF THE MEDINA

  Chapter 18 ~ THE SPIDER’S BITE

  Chapter 19 ~ THE MADNESS OF SAINT LAWRENCE

  Chapter 20 ~ DOUBLE-CROSSED

  Chapter 21 ~ AN ARM-WRESTLE

  Chapter 22 ~ OFF COURSE

  Chapter 23 ~ UNEXPECTED GUESTS

  Chapter 24 ~ THE KEEPER OF THE TEARS

  Chapter 25 ~ GLADIATORS, GOLD AND GLORY

  Chapter 26 ~ THE MYSTERIOUS JOHN ENGLISH

  Chapter 27 ~ SITTING OUT THE STORM

  Chapter 28 ~ BORDER OF THE EMPIRE

  Chapter 29 ~ THE WALLS OF DAMASCUS

  Chapter 30 ~ THE CARPENTER’S TEARS

  Chapter 31 ~ EDGE OF THE ANCIENT FRONTIER

  Chapter 32 ~ THE BATTLE OF THE FIVE ARMIES

  Chapter 33 ~ A POT OF STEW

  Chapter 34 ~ HOPE AND DESPAIR

  Chapter 35 ~ A MATTER OF TRUST

  Chapter 36 ~ THE EXCALIBUR

  Chapter 37 ~ TWO PROMISES

  Chapter 38 ~ RETURN TO ROME

  Chapter 39 ~ BARE FEET

  About the Author

  ~ Chapter 1 ~

  CARDINAL CHOICES

  Republic of Florence, June 1543

  Without warning, fists began to pound the door and men demanded entry. William Kidd sat bolt upright in his bath. A musket was discharged. He hoped it was merely a warning shot.

  Normally, and with no regard for being naked, he would have grabbed his sabre and pistol, and rushed to confront the intruders. On this particular occasion, he wanted nothing of it and lowered his head into the water to fill his ears. With his hands and forearms bandaged to the elbows, he was in no condition for physical confrontation.

  The water did little to muffle raised voices. Curiosity replaced Kidd’s desire for seclusion. He raised an ear to the surface. Threats of force were issued. He heard his host, the Bavarian scientist Vllen Dytz, try to appease the men.

  Curious indeed!

  Kidd had come to know his host quite well over the past few weeks. Vllen had few enemies, if any at all. He was a wealthy landowner and a respected member of the Florentine community, but he kept his affairs private.

  Kidd shifted uncomfortably in the near-scalding water. He hoped Vllen could resolve the matter peacefully. Uninvited visitors, especially those bearing firearms, made him uncomfortable. The many years he had spent at King Henry’s court had bred a healthy dose of suspicion into his character. He preferred to be well-informed about the nature of his present company, and whom he might expect when a knock was heard at the door.

  The fervent voices subsided into more polite tones. Perhaps it was merely some misunderstanding. Kidd tried to relax and ignore the incident. It was surely none of his business. As far as he knew, only Vllen and his staff were even aware he was a guest at the palazzo, tucked away in the countryside.

  He heard a light rap on the bathing room door and Vllen poked his head through. “You’d best get dry and dressed. There are men here to see you.”

  “Me? There must be some mistake,” Kidd replied. “Tell them to go away.”

  Vllen frowned. “Ah... I think it’s important, and common sense would suggest it is unwise to refuse my door to twenty men armed with muskets.”

  A manservant helped Kidd from the bath and into a loose-fitting gown that was easy to manage with the bindings on his hands. With a towel draped over his shoulders to catch stray drops from his still-wet hair, Kidd bumped the sitting room door open with his shoulder.

  A tall, lean man stood near the hearth as if it were his own. He wore a black cassock with scarlet sash and trim. Kidd took note of the ornate ring on his third finger. He was a senior member of the conclave, possibly a cardinal bishop. Kidd also noted the guarded look in the Cardinal’s eye, more suited to a moneylender than a man of the cloth. At his side, already seated, was an older man with downcast eyes. He also wore the robes of a clergyman. In one hand he held a stick of black chalk, and in the other, a large leather-bound notebook.

  Vllen took the Cardinal’s riding cloak and cap and bowed with just a little too much deference. “Please be seated and make yourself comfortable, Cardinal Cresci. I don’t receive visitors from the Church here often.”

  The Cardinal peered down his nose. “So I believe.”

  Vllen tossed the Cardinal’s cloak over the back of a chair. “Would you care for some wine?”

  The Cardinal nodded. “And refreshments for my men and horses.” He approached Kidd with his hand extended. It was customary to kiss the ring of a Cardinal, but Kidd stood unmoving. The Cardinal shrugged and took a seat opposite. “You owe us a great debt, William Kidd.”

  Kidd held the gaze. “What do I owe the Church? I am no man of God.”

  The Cardinal eyed the towel over Kidd’s shoulders. “Yes, so it would seem. The devout do not wallow sinfully in bathing chambers.” A knowing smile formed in the corner of his mouth. “But all men are indeed the children of God. Some just don’t realise it.”

  Kidd folded his arms. It was a somewhat awkward act, but better than leaving them dangling at his sides, swaddled and useless.

  “This is why I have sought you out,” Cresci continued.

  “You’ve travelled all this way just to bring me into the fold?”

  Cresci removed a small book from his robes and rested it on his knee. “In a manner of speaking. We are going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself for your blasphemous crime. I refer of course to the wanton destruction of a House of God, the Church of San Salvatore.”

  Kidd had no adequate rebuttal for the accusation. He had been identified by name at the incident in the village of Castellina just over one month ago. Regardless of the circumstances, he had fled without explanation and would always be accountable for the crime. “What do you want of me?” he asked with a dry mouth.

  Before the question was answered, Vllen returned. He held a tray laden with wine and sweet morsels. He filled three gilded t
umblers, presenting one to the Cardinal and taking one for himself. A manservant took the third and offered it up for Kidd to take a sip. He refused with a curt shake of his head. He did not want to be seen being spoon-fed like an infant.

  The Cardinal sipped his wine noisily. “We stand on a precipice, William Kidd. The Papacy lost a great deal of prestige when the so-called Holy Roman Emperor allowed the Vatican to be sacked. Now Protestants are free to spread their vicious lies unchecked. And this ‘Renaissance’, this rebirth of old thinking advocated by fashionable philosophers is no better than a plague. Men have lost sight of God, grown weak, and many have turned their devotion to science.” He said the word ‘science’ as if it tasted bad as it passed his lips. “It is the magic of the new era, embraced by ignorant men who are easily impressed by cogs and wheels. The damned heretic Copernicus would even have us believe our world orbits the sun. This sin will decay the fabric of society. Already your King Henry has broken away from the fold and more will follow his lead.” He rested his glass on the floor. “We require a symbol for these dark times, a token to restore faith in the Church and God.”

  “I’ve seen your churches,” said Kidd. “They seem to be well stocked with treasures, and your altars are plastered with gold and jewels. I’m sure you’ll recover from these ‘dark times.’ ”

  The Cardinal was unmoved by Kidd’s defiance. “Indeed. But you will do our bidding regardless, or become a man with a bounty on his head.” His lower lip drooped in disgust. “I will be certain to have you buried upright for your unholy crime.”

  Kidd clenched his teeth. “Why me?” Even though he didn’t believe in such things, it was a terrible threat. To be buried in such a way was eternal punishment, to ensure his soul never found rest. But more so, it would bring great shame to his family name.

  Cresci took a pastry from the plate and washed it down with a mouthful of wine. “His Holiness lacks men capable of performing certain specialised tasks. Too many were slaughtered defending Rome.” He cleared his throat. “We know you were once a member of the English Secret Service and we require your unique abilities.”

  All this time, the Cardinal’s silent companion scribbled furiously in his notebook, casting Kidd only an occasional glance.

  The Cardinal set his wine aside and opened the book in his lap. “A bible scholar on an archaeological pilgrimage recently unearthed an ancient scroll. It is a significant clue to a mystery that has eluded us for centuries.” He raised the book and read aloud. “John, chapter 11, verses 44 and 45.”

  “And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave clothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, loose him, and let him go. Then many of the Jews which came to Mary, and had seen the things which Jesus did, believed on him.”

  “The resurrection of Lazarus,” said Kidd. “I know the story. Did you come all this way to give me a bible lesson?”

  “I suggest you remain quiet and allow me to finish. There is another line written on the ancient scroll that didn’t appear in the version you and I are familiar with.”

  “But some of them went their ways to the Pharisees, and told them what things Jesus had done. Except Jabez, who crouched in the sand where Jesus wept. And he brought forth a jewel from the earth that shone with a beauteous light.”

  Cresci snapped the book closed and returned it to his pocket. “We believe The Tears Christ wept for Lazarus did not vanish into the Bethany desert. Indeed, we know in fact that something of His life-giving miracle was captured in the sand. We have sought long to recover His relics to the last; cup, cloth, crown and cross. All have eluded us. Now we have knowledge of a place to begin the search, starting with His Tears. However, we find ourselves in the most compromising of positions, lacking skilled men capable of the task.” A lopsided grin broke across his stony face. “However, the Lord is as wise as he is forgiving and has delivered you to us—a godless man—in need of redemption for his sin. Bring us The Tears of Christ before the year is out and we shall consider your debt to God repaid.”

  “What? A handful of months?”

  Cresci smiled in a particularly uncharitable way. “Correct. I know you’ll honour this duty if we keep the axe poised above your neck... so to speak.” He motioned for his companion to reveal his work. It was a detailed portrait of Kidd. “An excellent likeness don’t you agree? And in your present condition I dare say even an amateur bounty hunter will not be inconvenienced by the task of tracking you.”

  Kidd had mingled with the kind of men who undertook such work for their livelihood. Once the order had been issued, they would be clambering over each other to claim his head and the reward. “Where do you propose I begin? It’s not as if I have a world of information at my fingertips.”

  “It’s not as if you have fingertips, Wilhelm,” added Vllen.

  The Cardinal gathered his robes and prepared to leave. “You have the name of the man who took The Tears, and you are a man of resources. I’m certain you’ll find a way.” He presented his ring to Kidd once more. “If you prefer, we can have the bounty notice issued immediately. Assassins are always hungry for work.” He sighed in a particularly unpleasant manner. “It is a terrible way to live, always looking over one’s shoulder. You should give thorough consideration to those who extend a charitable hand.”

  Kidd ground his teeth. “It would appear I have no choice, although I do have some conditions.”

  “Conditions?” Cresci’s tone was derisive. “You are hardly in a position to place conditions on this arrangement.”

  “Call it a dispensation then. If you want The Tears, I’ll need access to certain resources the Church prohibits.”

  “Namely?”

  “Namely the secret archives in The Vatican Library.”

  “Out of the question. You have made your living trading secrets for gold. I have no doubt certain matters we wish to remain private would surface, and that you would become a wealthy man. And besides, after lifetimes of research by our finest scholars, what makes you think you’ll do better?”

  Kidd felt chill fingers touch his heart. Cresci was not going to make any concessions. The Church would gain The Tears, or they would lose a pawn, and one they considered troublesome at that.

  The Cardinal read the expression on Kidd’s face and extended his hand once more, a cruel smile forming in the corner of his mouth. “Now prove your sincerity and seal the contract.” Kidd knelt and kissed the Cardinal’s ring. “And now you are a child of God,” he said with breezy lightness. “We look forward to taking receipt of The Tears before the year is out. Oh, it would be courteous of me to mention that we are not the only interested party.”

  “Who else?”

  Cresci’s cassock spiralled around his legs as he turned to depart. “Most likely every important power in Europe. Farewell.”

  ~ Chapter 2 ~

  A CHURCH ON THE HILL

  The village of Castellina, Republic of Florence, one month earlier

  Hamilton Rush’s predicament was threefold. First, the muzzle of a primed wheel-lock pistol was pressed to his temple. Next, against his throat lay the razor-sharp edge of a sabre. And finally, he was trapped without his breeches!

  No Englishman, gentleman, nor secret servant of Great Harry should be forced to suffer such indignity. But it must be said, his captor, one Iron William Kidd, was an ill-mannered brute, a traitor and a cur.

  The day had begun with blue skies and soft breezes, cheese, bread and wine. However, the delightful afternoon’s taking of pleasure with a grape-grower’s daughter, round and pink as the fruit, had been rudely interrupted when Kidd had burst into the bedchamber. The presence of the girl had given Rush a much needed advantage, for Kidd had hesitated to despatch him in her company.

  He adjusted his loincloth and leapt from the nearest window, reminding himself never to throw his sword and breeches beyond reach during a romantic liaison.

  He heard the heavy footfalls of his pursuer closing, and so abandoned the
fruiting vines for the cover of trees. He had always been quicker on his feet than Kidd, but his escape was being hampered by his breathlessness. Perhaps he had indulged too much from his barrel of tobacco leaves.

  Rush knew his foe was not renowned as a strategist. He could be evaded with guile. The Church of San Salvatore stood at the top of the hill. Rush had once concealed himself inside a church bell, using the clapper for a perch. Seeking to evade a pursuer in a confined space defied everything secret servants were taught about the art of evasion. However, the mastery of this plan was that it offered a hasty escape route in the form of the bell-ringer’s ropes. Providing they weren’t in use of course.

  He took a deep lungful of air and sprinted up the hill. There was certainly no time to admire the gold-encrusted hilltops, the effect of which painters desired to capture in oil on canvas.

  The church was in a considerable state of disrepair, but the door swung ajar at his touch. He crept inside, quickly climbing two flights of stairs to the bell-tower. San Salvatore’s old brass bell was just large enough to pull off his ruse a second time. When Rush reached inside to pull himself up he discovered the clapper was missing, as were the bell-ringer’s ropes.

  Cursing silently he looked about for another place to hide. A large pile of rags and wooden shafts sat next to a barrel of tar, stores for the making of torches to replenish the sconces that lined the nave. It would have to suffice.

  The rags were brittle-dry and bore the odour of a rat’s nest, but Rush had been forced to conceal himself in much worse places. He lay down on the tar-sticky floorboards and covered himself, leaving a sliver of a gap for a peep hole.

  Kidd however, was not easily fooled. He emerged at the top of the stairwell. Rush would never underestimate his arch-rival again, either as the fox or the hound. He decided this time, it would be sensible to surrender to the threatening sword and pistol.

  Rush had known it was inevitable that he and Kidd would meet again, although he would rather have been the one to dictate the circumstances. Face to face now, he thought Kidd hadn’t changed much in the years that had passed since they had been fellows in the King’s service. Kidd still held his sabre as if it were the hand of a lady, delicately poised and in perfect balance. The courtiers had often jested that Kidd never took a wife because he cared more for his sword. The oily, metallic odour of Toledo steel filled Rush’s nostrils as the blade creased his neck, threatening to split the skin. The pressure of the muzzle against his temple intensified. Kidd’s knuckle whitened against the trigger. At point-blank range, the ignition of the powder alone could kill a man. Rush decided his first task after his escape would be to dispose of the tobacco barrel. To be snared in such circumstances as a consequence of smoking a pipe was proving dangerous for his health.