Kidd averted his eyes. “And how do you propose I complete this labour?”
Vllen pointed at Kidd’s armoured hands. “You will do it with the gift I have given you. And you may consider them a gift. I will not accept a florin for this work.”
“I’m a cripple. At the first sign of trouble, I’ll be a dead cripple.”
“Is that so?” Vllen spread his arms. “Look at me. Do you consider me a worthy opponent?”
Kidd thought Vllen looked well dressed for a garden stroll with his blue and silver silk doublet. It would be a shame to muddy such elegant clothing. “You’re a scientist, Vllen, and a good one. Now leave me alone.”
Vllen thrust his face at Kidd once more. “I will take that as a ‘no.’ ” He planted his hands on his hips. “Therefore you force me to teach you a lesson.” He motioned for Kidd to get to his feet. “I will have to give you a hiding.”
Kidd rose to his feet to meet the challenge. Vllen was more than a foot shorter, disadvantaged in both reach and power. It was a complete physical mismatch, regardless of his disability. He swung his arm lazily to push the Bavarian aside. He’d had enough of this nonsense. His hand passed through open air, and a second later he was staring at Vllen’s fist a fraction of an inch from his nose. “Go away, Vllen.” He tried to push him away once more.
Vllen evaded the shove and presented Kidd with a taut fist a whisker from his chin. “You fight like a girl, Wilhelm. Even with a sword in your hand, I could knock you down.”
Kidd felt his temper slip. He owed Vllen his life, but the Bavarian was hell-bent on provoking a fight. “Very well, Vllen, you’ve asked for it!” He threw a jabbing punch at Vllen’s midriff designed to knock the wind from his stomach. Maybe then he could get some peace.
Instead, Vllen caught Kidd’s arm and threw him through the air. The world spun before his eyes, and he returned to the earth flat on his back. Vllen’s fist was poised to strike. As Kidd gasped for breath, he wondered how solid Vllen’s punch would have been had he chosen to deliver it.
Vllen exhaled with a resounding, “Hai!” He returned to his fighting stance with precision and grace. “You want to try again?”
Intrigue replaced Kidd’s annoyance. He brushed the dirt from his shirtsleeves and limbered his shoulders. He’d never been thrown like that before, and never knocked down by a man half his size. But then again, Vllen had travelled to many strange places and picked up many peculiar skills from foreign peoples. He danced around the Bavarian looking for a place to strike. Vllen watched him quietly without moving, then dropped to a crouch and delivered a sweeping kick. Kidd found himself flat on his back once more, blinded by the midday sun.
Vllen shook his head. “You are a clumsy oaf, Wilhelm. It’s a wonder you’ve managed to live this long.”
Kidd clambered to his feet. He tried to strike Vllen a dozen more times before he admitted he was entirely outmatched. He mopped the sweat from his brow. “That’s a remarkable fighting style,” he puffed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Vllen relaxed. “Look at your hands, Wilhelm. They are encased in Toledo steel, the hardest, strongest, most flexible metal in the world. If you embrace them as part of your being you will be the most formidable warrior.” He turned to leave. “Or you can continue to be sorry for yourself, and I will fetch you a pretty lace handkerchief to cry in.”
Kidd spoke quickly. “Wait! Can you teach me to fight like that?”
Vllen folded his arms and struck a pose like a guardian statue in front of some ancient temple. “The martial arts of the Samurai have taken me a lifetime to master, but I can teach you the basic skills in a month if you are willing and disciplined.”
Kidd clenched his jaw. “I don’t have that much time.”
“Time may be against you, Wilhelm, but patience is your ally. Your actions, thoughts, and their consequences are related. When you understand this fully, nothing can stand in your way.” Vllen straightened his doublet, bowed slightly, and vanished into the depths of the garden.
Kidd paced up and down, trying to understand the meaning of Vllen’s statement. He picked an orange and tried to peel it, but his fingers lacked the finesse to pull the skin away from the flesh. He threw it away in disgust, and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Very well, Vllen! I will give you a month.” It had to be better than counting the days till his execution. The last thing he wanted was to go to his grave with a new nickname, such as Lily-livered William Kidd. He lowered his arms and waited for the Bavarian to reappear, but there was no sign. Vllen the Samurai. What was he thinking? He snorted a laugh.
“Good,” said Vllen, inches from Kidd’s back.
Kidd jumped. He’d never been taken unawares so absolutely.
Vllen raised a stubby finger to a solitary tree stump in the middle of the lawn. It was no more than a foot wide and high. “Your training begins immediately. Stand on the stump until I say you may step down.”
Kidd was baffled. “What? I thought—”
Vllen shushed him. “Do as I say, Wilhelm, or I will despatch a pigeon to the Cardinal with a note telling him to issue his bounty immediately. If you want my help, there will be no questions!”
Kidd accepted the terms of the training. He strode over to the stump and stepped up, placing his feet close together for balance. “What do I do now?”
Vllen poked out his bottom lip. “You wait.” He shook his head again, sighed and walked away.
After an hour, Kidd’s legs began to get stiff and sore. He jiggled his knees back and forth to keep the blood flowing. His mind was active even if his body wasn’t. Maybe this was a test of his sincerity. Surely Vllen was watching from some unseen place, waiting to see if he could show sufficient commitment to a simple test. He tried to ignore his aching joints and think about something else. There was plenty to consider. Who was Jabez? What exactly were The Tears of Christ? Why, as the Cardinal had claimed, were so many people interested in finding them? Most importantly, how was he going to find them first?
The hour that followed was more difficult, and there was little comfort to be had from losing himself in thought. There was also no sign of Vllen’s return. The afternoon heat was relentless, and sweat tricked freely down his face. He wiped it away before it could drip into his eyes. A craving thirst grew in his throat, surpassing the complaints of his cramping muscles. He spied the orange he’d thrown away in the grass. The thought of its sweet juice ran through his mind. He had to forcibly refrain from stepping down to fetch the bright citrus fruit. Instead, he turned to face the other way in a slow shuffle, taking care not to fall.
Damn Vllen and this stupid test!
His legs and feet eventually went numb, and his thirst passed into the hungry oblivion of dehydration. His stomach grumbled at him angrily, demanding satisfaction, growing in protest each time it was ignored. This was no test, he decided, it was torture. The Florentine summer was best spent in the shade with a cool drink, not standing on a stump in the burning sun.
The air cooled as the afternoon grew late. Kidd was shivering by the time the sun had completed its journey across the sky and vanished beyond the mountains. His sweaty clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, and for the first time since arriving on Vllen’s doorstep, he thought fondly of the hot bath and a mug of soothing herbal broth.
Twilight passed into evening and Kidd felt his eyelids become increasingly heavy. Despite his resolve to remain on the stump, he legs gave way and he collapsed onto the damp grass. He waited for judgement, but there was no sign of Vllen or his heavily accented scolding.
Wearily, he began the slow walk back to the house in the moonlight. The lamps were lit when he arrived, but there was no sign of Vllen, or any servants for that matter. If he wasn’t mistaken, everyone had gone to bed.
He walked up the stairs silently to avoid waking anyone. The door to his room opened with a soft creak and he pressed it closed behind him. A platter of cold meats, preserves and fresh bread was waiting next to his bed, along with a jar of
water and a mug of ale. He gulped down the water and splashed it on his face. He ate the food greedily, washing down half-chewed mouthfuls with the beer. Stuffed and satisfied he flopped onto the feather mattress and fell asleep instantly with the tray still resting on his chest.
When he woke, the memory of the failed test flooded into his mind. He leapt to his feet and sent the tray crashing to the floor. He ignored the mess, buttoned his shirt, and ran outside to the garden brushing the sleep from his eyes with his shirtsleeves.
When he arrived at the orange grove he found Vllen perched on the stump. “Good morning, Wilhelm. I trust you slept well.”
Kidd’s head drooped. “That wasn’t a good start was it?”
“The test was for you. You will understand its significance in time. It is a personal journey. Now, let us continue with your training!”
Kidd struggled to read the expression on Vllen’s face, still unsure if he had failed the test or not.
Every day for the next four weeks, Vllen schooled Kidd in the art of unarmed combat. He felt more like a court dancer than a fighter while he practised routines centred on moving with balance, grace and precision. When they eventually began to spar, he understood why. The discipline focused on using an opponent’s strength against him. It was very different from the attack, defence and counter-attack of swordplay. Kidd slowly began to understand he could take the best aspects of both and combine them into a style that suited his metal hands.
The day always concluded with a session on the stump. On most occasions, Kidd fell asleep on his feet after the day’s labour. After he’d spat the grass from his mouth he would return to the palazzo to find refreshments and a soft bed.
Vllen never remarked on the stump test as if it were no longer important. However, Kidd continued to be puzzled by its significance and daily inclusion.
The training was mentally and physically testing, dawn to dusk, and no rest on Sundays. Kidd proved to be a fast learner. He discovered that his gauntlets were just as effective, if not more so, than a sword or a pistol in his hand might be. With the protection of steel plates, he could throw punches which for most men would produce bruised knuckles or broken fingers. He learned to split wood and stone with controlled blows, and to deflect a sword stroke. The steel could even block a bullet if he were fast enough to place an armoured hand in its path. The added weight had also helped to stimulate his wasted muscles. As the month drew to a close, Kidd noticed that his upper arms and shoulders were now in the best condition of his life.
Perhaps the steel prisons encasing his hands were acceptable after all. Whether they were enough to help him secure The Tears of Christ was yet to be seen.
~ Chapter 6 ~
THE HYDRA’S KISS
A red-gold dawn greeted Kidd as he pulled back the curtains on his last day under Vllen’s roof. He washed, pulled on some fresh clothes, and ate a light meal before his customary walk to the orange grove. On this particular morning, he chose a different route, to take in the crisp air and admire the groomed gardens for one last time. He felt bright and alert, very different from the man that had crawled battered and bruised to Vllen’s door nearly two months before. Wordlessly, he bowed low to greet his instructor and waited for the lesson to begin.
Vllen returned the ceremonial gesture. “There is so much more I would like to teach you, Wilhelm, but we have no more time. I believe you have learned enough to complete the task before you, and I know your father would be proud.”
A rare smile cracked Kidd’s cheeks. “I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done. If my departure wasn’t driven by necessity, I would gladly stay longer. Regrettably, I must take my leave.”
“Wait. There is one more task you must complete before you go.”
Kidd stretched his arms and shoulders wide. Vllen could ask him to move a mountain now and he would do so without question. “Name it.”
Vllen shuffled his feet, looking uncharacteristically anxious as he made his request. “I have a pet snake I keep in the garden shed, a rather large viper. He’s not what you’d describe as typical of his kind. And well... ah, he has managed to get out of his box.”
“I’m not fond of serpents,” Kidd replied. “Do you want me to take care of him? Kill him?”
Vllen suddenly looked very serious. “No, Wilhelm. Have I taught you nothing? We do not take a life without very good reason.”
Kidd shrugged. “I understand he’s a pet, Vllen, but he’s only a snake. And snakes have fangs, so I can’t guarantee he’ll be returned to his box in prime condition.”
“Ya ya, Great Harry’s Spymaster would pat you on the back all day for such bravado, but I am not the Spymaster, and you are no longer a spy. Life is a sacred and precious gift. Whether you face a snake or your deadliest enemy, to be a great warrior you must spare life, not take it. Promise me that you will adopt this code.”
“I appreciate the training, Vllen, but I am who I am, and I already have the blood of many men and beasts on my hands.”
“It is the only thing I would ask of you,” said Vllen bringing the subject to a close.
Kidd shrugged. He owed the Bavarian that much at the very least.
Vllen poked out his bottom lip. “Only you can catch the snake safely. He gets moody when he’s handled, but he will not be able to bite through your armoured hands. I collect the venom, you see. It’s a powerful sedative and paralytic agent, very useful in my work.”
“Consider it done.” Kidd crossed the grounds to Vllen’s garden shed, tucked away on the fringe of the estate. As a store for gardening tools and implements, it was a significantly better building than most people could hope to own as a home. It was small and circular, but soundly constructed from sandstone blocks and capped with a beaten copper roof.
The door opened silently on oiled hinges. On a few occasions in his travels, Kidd had encountered a viper. On the whole, they were quiet creatures, no more than three feet long. Their bite was nasty, but hardly lethal. He closed the door slowly behind him until the latch clicked into place.
The interior was much like Vllen’s house, filled with a variety of tools, implements, and other strange contraptions collected from his adventures, all organised in neat piles. The central feature was the snake cage, a long wooden box with metal grates on top of an equally long bench. He stood back and measured it with his eye. The cage was almost ten feet long, which seemed rather a large box for such a small snake. One of the grates had come loose and fallen out, the means by which the viper had gained his freedom.
Kidd approached the cage cautiously. Sudden movement was not advisable in the company of a serpent. With any luck the snake had slithered back into the box. He peered inside, but it was empty aside from pebble litter and small bundles of digested bones. He crouched and peered under the bench. There were coils of rope and large metal buckets filled with gardening tools, but no snake. He gently moved them aside, and the scrape of metal on stone rewarded him with a flicker of movement in the shadows. His heart started to beat faster. His hands might be protected, but he still didn’t like the idea of handling a poisonous snake. He reached out, and carefully pushed a pile of rope aside to expose the snake’s tail. The tail flicked, responding to the disturbance in the air.
He froze. What lay before him was merely the tip of a long reptilian body, at least as thick as his calf, that extended into the shadows beyond his sight. Worse was the rasp of scales on stone, and the loud hiss at his back. While he had been poking around by the tip of the tail, the snake had quietly outflanked him. He turned around very slowly.
Not typical of his kind, Vllen had said. An understatement, Kidd decided as he looked the serpent in the eye. It was easily fifteen feet long, and much too colourful for an ordinary viper. Thick blood-red and earth-brown bands ran down its glossy scales. This was some other exotic creature. A long tongue flicked back and forth with a life of its own. The snake could taste him in the air.
A cold sweat broke across his forehead and his heart beat i
n his chest with great hammer blows. He’d never liked snakes much, but this one was truly fearsome. Serpents were capable of eating creatures much larger than themselves, and this one was not beyond doing the same. It hissed again like a boiling kettle.
Kidd raised his hands slowly to defend himself. The snake responded in kind and arched its neck into two half-coils. He waited for the strike to come, but the snake remained motionless. They stared at each other without making the smallest movement or sound.
Kidd made an effort to fill his lungs slowly. Rapid breathing was the behaviour of panicked prey. Announcing his fear would only tempt the serpent to strike. It would think twice about biting him if it considered him to be an equal threat. He recalled an occasion on which he’d escorted King Henry to a bear-baiting arena. Two lions were set against the tethered bear. The crowd booed and jeered as the beasts refused to fight, each predator having sufficient respect for the danger the other posed. Spears had been used that day to ensure expectations were met for the price of admission.
On this occasion, there was no roaring or snarling to signal a stand-off, nor a handy pikeman. The snakes yellow eyes betrayed nothing. Only the occasional flicker of scaly eyelids broke its stony gaze. Drawn taut as a catapult, it was poised to deliver its paralytic bite. It would be an ugly way to die, alive and helpless, while the snake swallowed him whole for a long slow digestion.
As he stood motionless, Kidd wondered if this was the purpose of the stump test. However, this time he wouldn’t get a second chance. The snake would surely kill him. Patience was required, the one thing Vllen continually reminded him that he lacked, along with regular baths of course.
Minutes passed. He wasn’t sure how many. He gritted his teeth and steeled his resolve to outlast the snake, but his arms and legs began to ache. He had been able to move on the stump to keep blood flowing, but remaining completely still was an entirely different exercise.
Iron William and the Carpenter's Tears Page 4
