Her expression showed no reaction to my presence. I suspected she had been watching, not sleeping, and knew all that had passed.
‘Will you not greet each other!’ asked Godfrey who seemed to be enjoying the situation.
‘Whore!’ I snarled. ‘I know no better greeting.’
‘Nay, you mistake her, Carlo,’ protested Godfrey. ‘Though she was like to have been one had she remained in that holy house. These places, Carlo! You’ve no idea! I went in all honesty of purpose, Carlo, on your behalf, to woo her if she were ripe to be woo’d, but for you. But you had deceived me, Carlo!’
‘What? I deceived you!’
‘Oh yes. I thought to find a maid desperate with love for you. Instead what did I find but one who scarcely knew you?’
‘Scarce knew me?’ I echoed him again. ‘I was never away from her father’s house!’
‘Aye, but were you ever alone? Once only I believe. Did you ever exchange tokens or vows? Never! She bore your presence because her father wished it. And when his desire for your company flagged, so did hers.’
‘Lies!’ I cried, staring wildly for reassurance at this woman I despised.
‘Lies? Who was it, do you think, that told her father of your plan to abduct her the night you were near on beaten to death by Basadonna’s bullies?’
Felicia still did not speak, but there was no denial on her face.
I clutched at straws.
‘The notes she sent me from the convent, they were written in her hand!’ I objected.
‘Aye, Carlo,’ said Godfrey sadly. ‘But at my dictation. You see, I really needed your assistance. Soon I saw this gentle maid had no affection or thought of affection for you. But in that place she was learning many things and though I have never been a barbarian to seduce innocence, my soul is putty in the hands of a fair woman who knows how the world wags. We became enamoured. My visits were delightful, but spoilt always by the sight of your misery if I returned without a message. So we began our course of composition. Carlo, there has been no deceit but that which you practised on yourself!’
This monstrous declaration, made in a more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger tone of voice, left me speechless.
‘But you two shall not part enemies!’ cried Godfrey. ‘Come, my love, will you not say some friendly and comforting words of farewell to Carlo?’
And for the first time Felicia spoke.
‘Kill him quickly and let us be gone from this place,’ she said. ‘This valley oppresses me.’
Even Godfrey was somewhat taken aback.
As Felicia turned to leave he said apologetically to me, ‘She hasn’t been well, it’s been a trying time.’
Hoping to profit from this conciliatory mood, I asked if I might have something to moisten my mouth before we went.
‘Of course,’ he said. And putting his pistol down alongside the swords, he picked up a jug of wine and a clay goblet and began to fill it.
It was little enough but it might be all the opportunity I got.
I launched myself out of the fireplace in an explosion of ashes and soot. That damned umbrella caught in the grate and though the wrench at least pulled it loose from its fastening to my leg, it also sent me sprawling at Godfrey’s feet. As I looked up at him, he laughed and dribbled the wine slowly over my face while his other hand hovered above his loaded pistol.
Filled with fury at my humiliation, I might have made my last assault upon him at that moment, but the door opened again and Felicia staggered backwards into the room.
‘Godfrey!’ she shrieked.
Godfrey span round, his hand closing on the pistol butt.
‘Leave it, Master Hatfield!’ commanded a new voice.
And into the room stepped Giacomo Basadonna, a pistol in either hand.
I never thought I’d be grateful to see that sulky brutal face, and I was right.
As I began to push myself to my feet, one of the pistols came to bear on me and he said, ‘Stay where you belong, peasant. On the floor among the ashes.’
‘What, Signore? Have you not come to assist this emissary of the Senate?’ inquired Godfrey pleasantly.
‘In Venice, sir, we send dogs to sniff out tracks,’ sneered Basadonna. ‘But we do not trust them not to maul and spoil the game.’
‘In England we train them better,’ observed Godfrey. ‘So, while Carlo has been trailing me, you have been trailing Carlo. To what end?’
‘To the end that what belongs to the State shall be returned to the State.’
‘Which is?’
‘Her jewels and holy relicts. This holy nun, my own bride’s sister, whom you have so viciously abducted.’
I wondered what he would say if he knew what I had done to his bride.
‘And Master Fantom? And myself? What of us?’
Basadonna smiled.
‘You shall return for execution. Or, if you prefer, your head alone I shall take back, for that is the property of the State, and all who shall see it displayed shall realize how jealous the State is of her belongings.’
‘Oh? And will the State so readily offend her ancient ally, England?’
‘Sir Henry Wotton is content to accept the Senate’s assurance that you are no Englishman but an Uskok pirate in masquerade, a mere Croat like this spawn here.’
‘And his fate is to be ….’
Basadonna shrugged, enjoying himself hugely.
‘Dogs who have served their purpose are best shot and left for the crows. ’Tis kinder so.’
Godfrey’s eyes flickered towards me, their message plain. We were allies again till this fellow should be dealt with. But who would be first to move? He it was who was like to be pistoled by Basadonna or, if he avoided that fate, be pistoled by his ‘ally’ as soon as the Venetian was dealt with.
Me, I was on the ground, the bulk of the table offering me some protection from a pistol-ball. I had no intention of moving. Let Godfrey make the spring, then I could be up in a trice and grabbing for the nearest weapon. Meanwhile I curled myself up as small as possible.
‘Are you alone, Signore Basadonna?’ inquired Godfrey politely.
‘For the present as you may easily see,’ said Giacomo. ‘But I have a couple of friends who will be here anon. We talked with the landlord of the inn in Morbegno and he was as ready to accept our gold as he had been to take yours. He told us of your plan. I left my men a couple of miles down the road while I came ahead to see how the land lay. Meeting the fellow who owns this place on the way, him also I persuaded to tell me what had passed, and now he is on his way to fetch my companions. So let us wait patiently.’
‘By all means,’ said Godfrey. ‘I was just pouring Carlo a cup of wine. Will you not join us? And Lady Felicia too, to show you bear no malice for the ungentlemanly treatment I have offered you.’
I was almost relaxed on the floor. This was like being in one of the theatres of Venice watching some performance on the stage. Godfrey was offering Felicia a cue to play the injured innocent till she had a chance to divert her brother-in-law-to-be’s attention.
But Basadonna was no fool, despite his years at the University. He would be ready enough on his return to support the myth of injured innocence, if necessary with his sword, but here he had the truth of Felicia’s situation very sharply before his eyes.
‘Be seated, sweet sister,’ he sneered at her, motioning with one of his pistols. ‘Offer a prayer for your miraculous rescue from the jaws of hell!’
Felicia obeyed and when she was seated at the table, it was as if all the stress and trial of the past days finally came to a head for she burst into tears and fell across the board, sobbing passionately.
It was hard not to be moved by the sight. Godfrey looked indignant, I began to rise, and even Giacomo took half a step forward as though to offer some comfort.
And then he took half a dozen rapid steps backwards as Felicia’s hands, outstretched in her paroxysm of grief, seized the pistol on the table and swept it round to bear on him. Had the hands been Go
dfrey’s, that had been an end to it. But whatever whorish tricks they had taught her in the convent, markmanship was not among them.
She pulled at the trigger, the charge exploded and the ball flew wide past Giacomo’s body and whistled harmlessly through the open door. Basadonna’s face as he recovered from his shock told us we were finished. A bullet apiece for Godfrey and me, then he’d probably slit Felicia’s throat and claim that one of us had done it before he arrived.
It was time to start moving. My best hope was to make myself such a difficult target that the pistol shot did not completely incapacitate me, then try what might be done with the sword.
But even this slim hope seemed completely vain when another figure appeared in the doorway. Basadonna’s men had been swift, I thought bitterly. Now we were theirs to kill or hold, though at least with witnesses our murder might be a little delayed. I could not see the new arrival clearly for he was directly behind his master. Yet he moved with a strangely slow, almost stealthy motion, and spoke not a word, so that Basadonna knew he was there only because of the way his prisoners were looking. Fearing a trick, he glanced hurriedly over his shoulder. The figure lunged forward, there was a sound like the tearing of cloth, his fingers contracted on both his triggers so that there was a single explosion and the balls ricocheted off the stone floor, one ruffling Godfrey’s hair in its passing, but he paid it no more heed than a summer fly.
And now Giacomo turned fully to face the newcomer and we were able to see the long hilt of the stiletto which pointed downwards from low on his left side. It had been, I noted, a good assassin’s blow – that rapid upward sweep which cuts under the back-ribs and clips heart and lung both in its passage.
And as Basadonna slumped to the floor, I saw its author and knew that this expertise was no lucky accident.
The black and rotting teeth of Sabino Baroja showed through his tangled beard as he smiled at me in grisly greeting.
‘See how a Basque keeps a bargain, master,’ he said.
‘You might have done it earlier,’ I protested, near to tears in my relief.
‘The wise man never completes the work till the master is able to pay him for it,’ he answered.
So Baroja had patiently followed Basadonna, biding his time till I should have caught up with Godfrey and the jewels! I could have kissed that revolting mouth!
Even Godfrey had been momentarily transfixed by the sudden change of fortunes. Now recognizing that for him the danger was far from past he stepped towards the table for his sword, but I, filled with the confidence of two-to-one, was there before him, my own Spanish blade in my grip, and as his hand touched the table I swung hard at it. He started back smartly, but not smart enough, and next moment we were both staring at the top two joints of his little finger which stayed on the table.
‘God’s veins!’ he swore, and Felicia shrieked and jumped up, tearing a piece of lawn from her sleeves to catch the pulsing blood. This was her first show of concern for any but herself and I was distressed to find I could still feel jealous. But she got little thanks from Godfrey, who winced as she touched the wound and pushed her impatiently away to bind it himself.
‘So blood to you at last, young Carlo,’ he said thinly. ‘I taught you many tricks, but none so subtle as this – to strike a defenceless man!’
‘You shall have defence enough when you face the Senate!’ I cried, stung quite irrationally by his reproof.
‘I doubt if your new friend purposes my return, or his, or yours either,’ he replied. ‘Come, take the jewels and call it quits. What say you, sir? You look like a reasonable man.’
It was not a term I had thought to apply to Sabino, but in the limited sense of Godfrey’s use of it, I saw it might be just. If I was going to get involved with the Basque in a long debate about our futures, I didn’t want Godfrey around to offer suggestions. I brought my point up to his throat.
‘Stay, Carlo!’ he said urgently. ‘I was ever your friend. Remember I spared your life when first we met. I have cared for you, protected you, educated you. Must all this go for nothing?’
‘It earns you a quick death,’ I replied. But I was moved despite myself. These wise men with their clever words! How often have I had cause to regret listening to them.
‘Nay, Carlo, but listen. I never purposed your death, believe me. It was the discovery of the Spaniards’ plot which made it necessary, otherwise there would have been no fear of pursuit. When we arrived at the convent orchard, I had no thought but to abandon you, a bump on the head, nothing more. This witch had dazzled me with her spells. I was besotted. And so confused and overwrought was I that I had no will to resist when she whispered her monstrous proposals in my ear.’
‘Her proposals!’
‘Aye! Have you not understood?’
He had a magnificent expression of injured bewilderment on his face.
‘All talk of killing you started with this whore. All proposeals, all plans, emanated from this diseased mind. As God is my judge, Carlo, I have been but a simple instrument, bound fast by witchery. Here, take the jewels, take the whore, and let me retire to a simple hermitage in mine own country. For our friendship’s sake, Carlo. Take her, I say!’
Grasping Felicia by the arm he flung her towards me. Naturally I caught her and as my point wavered from Godfrey’s throat, he hurled himself forward once more and this time had his sword in his bloodstained hand before I could prevent it.
Now it was my turn to thrust Felicia away. I felt almost sorry for her. It’s one thing to be regarded as a possession so desirable that men will gladly fight and fall for your sake, another to be punched around like a pallone ball when the real issue of survival arise!
‘Sabino!’ I said, never taking my eyes off Godfrey. ‘Will you take a hand in this game?’
I had seen Godfrey in action too many times to underestimate him, even with a finger missing from his sword hand. Face him alone I would if I had to, but no stupid notions of honour were going to make me refuse any assistance the villainous Basque cared to offer.
But Baroja didn’t seem to be making any move behind me.
I spoke to him again in his own tongue, partly to prevent Godfrey understanding, but also (God forgive my weakness!) out of consideration for Felicia! Something of gentleman’s behaviour had taken root in me after all.
‘Help me kill him,’ I said, ‘and we’ll split the jewels, fifty-fifty, and I’ll chuck in the girl on top of your share.’
Well, it can’t be every day that a squalid fellow such as Baroja gets the chance of a fortune plus the freehold of a woman who is not only a scion of one of Venice’s noblest families, but a nun to boot!
Yet there was still no movement and Godfrey suddenly laughed.
‘I think your friend has other things on his mind, Carlo. Or more properly his stomach!’
Fearing a trick, I moved back several steps before I glanced round.
Sabino stood in the same place as he had been after slaying Basadonna. His hands were clasped together almost piously at his belly. And through his dirty oar-gnarled fingers, seeped a brighter cleaner colour than any that showed itself elsewhere on his person. Not his squalid garments, not his sallow face, not his decaying mouth, and not even his fast dulling eyes could boast a hue to match one drop of that vivid red. And there was more than one drop. Far more. His life was spilling out in pint after pint of rich bright blood.
Felicia’s shot from Godfrey’s pistol had not been completely vain. Basadonna it had missed completely, but Sabino, stealthily advancing from the neighbour room, it must have caught full in the gut. I have seen since many men with their death wounds on them complete what business they were about before they fell, as if the will of man is stronger than either his body or his soul. Baroja had carried out his purpose. But there was no more to be looked for from him.
Even as I watched, he fell forward, hands still clasped at his belly so that he went down straight like a sawn tree, and his head crashed so hard on the paved floor that ha
lf a dozen of those rotten teeth were at last shaken from their sockets and rattled like dice across the flags.
And I feared he’d thrown the number of my death for, without more pause, Godfrey was at me!
I was driven back across the room like a puny child. Nothing could have resisted the fury and the skill of that advance. Even my brave new sword was more of a hindrance than a help for I was not yet used to its balance and I found the complicated finger-guard awkward to my unaccustomed grip.
Godfrey noticed this and mocked me, saying, ‘I told you, Carlo, you should have kept that old sword you had of me! But see, if I remove one or two of your fingers, mayhap that will help your passes.’
He chopped viciously at my hand for half a minute, which I preferred to having him chop at my head. The Spanish guard was effective and though he scored the back of my wrist, this limitation of attack gave me a chance to recover my wits and apply myself seriously to the business of defence. Aggression I could not consider. In our practice bouts, whenever I went on the attack, Godfrey seemed able to disarm me at will. But I had become something expert, if only from much usage, at warding off his onslaughts.
So now we circled round the room, me always retreating, Godfrey ever advancing. I hoped that if we continued long enough either Basadonna’s men would grow impatient and advance to the farmhouse, or Godfrey’s wounded hand would drain enough blood from his veins to weaken him.
But the latter showed no signs of happening and the former was quite unpredictable, and in the end I began to feel fatigue creeping through my own travel-weary frame. Felicia meanwhile crouched in a corner, seeming totally indifferent to the outcome of the fight. Who could blame her? It must have been a difficult choice of champions to make – the man she had betrayed against the man who was clearly willing without a second thought to betray her.
Now suddenly there came a respite. The fury of Godfrey’s attack waned. Was he after all feeling the effects of his wound, his journey, his present exertions? For a few moments our circumambulations stopped. We stood face to face thrusting and parrying. Then once more we started circling the room, but now I advanced and he retreated. I felt new waves of strength and confidence running through me. My sword felt perfectly familiar in my hand, almost an extension of it. I thought I could see desperation on Godfrey’s face at the realization that in the end the pupil must always overtake the master.
The Forging of Fantom Page 23
