The Gift

by Bryan M. Litfin

  Count Federco extended his hand. “Come on! Come on, little man.”

  In a sudden flurry of exertion Benito trotted three steps and tumbled into his father’s arms. Federco scooped him up and kissed his blotchy purple cheek.

  “That’s my boy! You did it! Oh, Benito, if only your mother could have . . .” Federco stopped and shook his head, dismissing that mournful thought.

  Someone knocked, and Count Federco granted permission to enter. The gatekeeper bowed to the count. “Foreign guests have arrived, m’lord. Strangers from far away.”

  “Did they give you anything?”

  The gatekeeper handed his master an envelope with a wax seal. Federco opened it and removed a card. It was blank except for a single sign: a cross.

  “Show them in.”

  The guests were travel-worn and dusty. The leader was a slim man of about thirty years, while his companion was younger and more powerfully built. Federco guessed he was a bodyguard for the journey. The leader stepped forward and bowed. “I bring a message from Roma,” he said.

  “Hand it to me.”

  “I beg your pardon—the message is not written but memorized.”

  Federco nodded, and the man proceeded to speak. After offering the right passwords and countersigns, he recited his message in full. Brother Ambrosius, he said, had been arrested by Borja and tortured. The New Testament had been captured by the enemy. Now the Papa faced his most desperate hour. The Christiani were under attack. A final showdown was coming. Mercenaries were needed—an army of them.

  “We have brought pigeons,” the messenger announced. “They will fly hundreds of leagues without stopping, straight to Roma. With good winds they can be there in as little as seven hours.” After handing Federco a tiny metal tube, he departed with his bodyguard.

  The count closed the door behind the men, then walked to the windows that looked out over the terrace. Greater Lake stretched before him, its azure waters reflecting the clear sky above. He cherished its stunning beauty. Nothing was more lovely than the magnificent lake on a warm, sunny day.

  Federco’s thoughts went to his deceased wife, the Countess Benita. How she loved the Creator God! Benita’s faith had been strong right to the end. Even as she labored to bring her son into the world and could feel her life slipping away, she had rejoiced in the grace of almighty Deus. “Raise our son to know the Eternal One,” she had said, clutching Federco’s sleeve. With tears in his eyes, Federco had sworn a solemn oath to his beloved.

  “Da-da-da,” Benito babbled, tugging the cuff of Federco’s trousers.

  “My son! Oh my son!” Federco lifted the child from the floor and held him close. Benito squirmed, but his father did not let him go. He looked into the boy’s chubby face—a face the shamans dared to call defective. Outrage seethed within the count. “What kind of world is this?” he cried. “It cannot continue!”

  Federco set the boy on the floor and went to his desk. Dipping his quill into an inkwell, he scrawled a message on a tiny piece of parchment:

  Greetings to you, Holy Father, in the name of the Eternal One. I have received your emissary. I will send him back to you with letters of credit from the Bank of Ulmbartia. Amount: one million scudi.

  Grace be upon you, and on all the brethren. FB

  Federco’s heart was beating fast as he set down the quill. The amount was almost his entire net worth. Yet, with that guarantee of financial backing, the Papa could immediately borrow from the Roman banks and hire an army. He glanced at Benito, who was staring at a grandfather clock, mesmerized by the swinging pendulum. An overwhelming love washed over the count at the sight of his son.

  “Your world shall not be my world,” he vowed.

  Federco rolled up the parchment and slid it into the metal tube.

  Inside the captain’s stateroom aboard the Midnight Glider, four figures sat around a linen-covered table. Marco had invited Teo, Ana, and Vanita to dinner, though Teo knew which of the three was the real guest of honor—and her name wasn’t Anastasia. The pirate captain had spared no luxury for the meal. Fine china, sterling silver, and crystal goblets were upon the table. The menu was far superior to standard sailor’s fare. Even Marco’s appearance fit the occasion. He was impeccably dressed, yet somehow he still exuded a devil-may-care nonchalance. His cheeks were clean-shaven, his goatee was combed, and his black hair glistened with oil.

  Despite the lovely setting and Marco’s fashionable elegance, the group’s mood was somber. It had been twelve days since the Overseer’s escape from the dungeons. When the Papa heard about Borja’s evil plan, he jumped into action. “Teofil,” he said, “I’m going to find you and your companions a place to disappear for a while. Your military skills will be needed after I’ve laid some initial plans. For now, though, I want you to lie low.” The Papa sent him to a lonely cottage on the seaside estate of an earl, where Teo had quickly concluded he wasn’t much good at “lying low.” Marco’s dinner invitation had offered a welcome respite from the boredom.

  The topic of conversation around the table kept returning to the stolen New Testament. Its loss galled Teo and saddened Ana. Neither could quit thinking about it. Vanita and Marco strategized with them about ways to recover the book. Most of the proposed schemes were hopelessly impractical.

  “Maybe you could sneak into the palace as a eunuch again,” Vanita suggested to Teo.

  “And go where? I have no idea where the book is hidden. Besides, they’ll be on high alert now. We took a prisoner from under Borja’s nose. He’s bound to have tightened security. That palace is locked down like a treasure chest.”

  Marco chuckled. “Every treasure chest can be pilfered, one way or another.”

  Teo glanced at the handsome pirate. “You have any ideas?”

  “When I was a boy, I used to pick pockets outside a whorehouse. The pimp of that place was rich. Had a lockbox full of gold. I used to look in his window and dream of stealing it from him, but the box was banded with iron and was far too strong for me. I could have hammered it for an hour and been no closer to opening it.”

  Vanita poked Marco in the ribs. “So what did you do, you rascal? Steal the key?”

  “The guy was huge and wore the key on his belt. I didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Then did you give up?”

  “Ha! Give me a little more credit than that! I used a different strategy—diversion. I waited until I saw the guy open the chest. Then I lit a dog’s tail on fire and turned him loose in the house. The dog went crazy, furniture flying everywhere, dishes breaking. In all the commotion I dashed in, grabbed a handful of coins, and ran like mad.”

  Marco paused expectantly. Silence hung over the table.

  Suddenly Teo’s eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. “Midsummer’s Day!” he exclaimed.

  “Now you’re thinking,” the pirate said.

  “On Midsummer’s Day the ‘chest’ will be open, and the ‘gold’ will be exposed. All we have to do is disrupt the ceremony and snatch the book.”

  “Exactly. It’s all about diversion, as every pickpocket knows.”

  The wheels of Teo’s mind were spinning. “It would have to be something really big. Something that would throw them into confusion and make them afraid.”

  “How about if you knock over their idol?” Vanita proposed. “The priests would scatter like rats.”

  Teo considered it. “That’s a good idea, but we’d have to string up ropes to do that. It would take too much time. For this plan to work we need to act suddenly. There’s no force in the world that could knock over a huge statue like—” Teo paused as an idea came to him. A chill ran down his spine.

  The other three figures around the table stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Ana was the first to break the silence. “Surely you’re not thinking of . . . Astrebril?”

  He glanced at her, excited. “Yes! I have a book about his fire. I accidentally brought it with me from Chiveis.”

  “Oh, Teo, don’t use that terrible powder. It’s
evil.”

  “The powder isn’t evil. What matters is how you use it. We would use it for good.”

  Vanita held up her palms, a bewildered expression on her face. “What are you two talking about?”

  Ana turned to her friend. “An evil Chiveisian god called Astrebril taught his followers how to make an explosive powder. It’s unbelievably powerful. In fact, it destroyed my entire house in a great fire with a sound like being inside a thundercloud.”

  “Wow,” Marco said. “If it could destroy a house, it could certainly knock down the idol.”

  “Everyone would be stunned,” Teo agreed. “We’d have the advantage of surprise. I could run into the Temple of All Gods and grab the New Testament before anyone knew what was happening.”

  Ana frowned. “It’s the enemy’s weapon.”

  “No, it’s not! It’s just three natural substances. Evildoers may have harnessed it against us, but the substances themselves come from Deu.”

  “But, Teo, the powder itself is violent. Where would it all end?”

  “It would end with us getting back the Holy Book of Deu.” Teo found himself a little irritated by Ana’s protests.

  “Do you know how to make it?” Marco asked.

  “I think I could learn. It’s all described in the book. You have to mix salt-stone, brimstone, and charcoal. We’d need a lot of those three substances.”

  “Charcoal is no problem,” Vanita said. “Everyone uses it for fires. There’s plenty around. I’ll buy as much as you want.”

  “And I can get brimstone easily,” Marco added.

  Teo was surprised. “Really? Where?”

  “Far to the south there’s an island with a giant fire mountain. Lots of brimstone there. Traders bring it up to Roma. The launderers buy it for bleaching clothes, and it has some healing properties too. Any merchant ship with a southern flag probably has some aboard. I’ll see if I can make a little”—Marco’s face turned sly—“acquisition.”

  “Then that just leaves the salt-stone.” Teo turned to Ana. “Didn’t you once tell me farmers use it on their crops?”

  Ana sighed. “Yes, it’s an excellent fertilizer.”

  “I wonder if any farmers would have some?”

  “They might, but not a whole lot. It grows on the walls of cellars and stables and chicken coops. It’s a feathery white powder that can be scraped off. It would take a long time to collect a significant amount. However . . .” Ana dropped her eyes and stared at her plate.

  “What is it, Ana? Come on, tell me.”

  Ana looked up and met Teo’s gaze. She reached over and gripped his hand. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes, of course. We have to do something dramatic or we’ll lose our chance to retrieve the New Testament before it gets burned up.”

  “Alright. I trust you.” Ana pursed her lips and gathered her thoughts before continuing. “When I went down into the Christiani tombs, do you remember what scared me at first?”

  “Yes, a huge flock of bats.”

  “There was salt-stone everywhere from their droppings. More than we could ever use.”

  “Great! First thing in the morning, let’s start assembling the ingredients. When we have what we need, we’ll follow the instructions and try to make the powder.” Teo and Marco grinned at each other, but Ana just stared out a porthole at the distant horizon.

  Over the course of the next week Teo worked intently on the project. He acquired the salt-stone and charcoal while Marco obtained a keg of brimstone. As Teo worked alongside the roguish pirate, he found himself drawn to the man. The two of them made a good team. While they labored in a remote corner of the earl’s estate, the women occupied themselves around the cottage and looked after Liber.

  Eventually Teo and Marco managed to perfect a grinding process that would make decent powder. The book from Chiveis, called The Secret Lore of Astrebril, said that if the powder was held in a rigid container it would pack far more explosive force. The tighter the container, the more violent the explosion would be. Teo decided to try a sealed clay jar. When he lit the fuse, the effect was enormous: the jar shattered with a loud bang and a brilliant flash of light.

  “Imagine what cast iron would do!” Marco said from behind a nearby tree.

  “It’s time I showed this to the Papa.”

  The next morning after breakfast Teo led a horse from the stable. A small sack of powder was stowed in the saddlebags. Ana came out to meet him in the cottage’s front yard.

  “Should I go with you?” she asked as Teo tightened the girth.

  “Sure. I’d be glad to have you.”

  “Aren’t you worried the Papa will think the powder belongs to the underworld?”

  Teo frowned. “I wish you’d stop saying that sort of thing. I’m no fool, Ana. I’m working hard to get the sacred book of Deu back into the hands of his people. This is the best way.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Look, if you don’t agree with what I’m doing, just stay here. I believe this plan is from Deu. If the Papa has any misgivings, he’ll say so.”

  “I have as much at stake in this as you, Teo. I’m only trying to offer perspective.”

  Ana’s tone was firm, but Teo sensed a note of hurt as well. He started to respond, but she began to speak at the same time. They both hesitated.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Teo said. “What were you going to say?”

  “Oh, let’s just drop it.” Ana winced and waved her hand.

  Teo approached her. “No. What is it?”

  “I just . . . I just don’t like it when we disagree,” she said at last.

  “Me either. But we won’t let it come between us.”

  “I know. It’s just that . . . well . . . ever since you found me on the island, I’ve been scared we’ll be separated again. I hate the thought of us not being together.” Her face reddened. “Obviously that’s silly. But I . . . I can’t help it.”

  “It’s not silly. It’s sweet.” Teo smiled warmly. “How about if I saddle up a second horse? Come with me to the basilica, and we’ll see what the Papa has to say. Then we can decide what to do next.” He turned to go, but she grabbed his sleeve.

  “I really do trust you, Teo. You know that, right? I think you’re a wise man.”

  “If I am, it’s because I have a very wise woman in my life.” He laughed to lighten the mood. When Ana smiled back, he decided to let the matter drop and set out for Roma.

  They rode for several hours on a mostly deserted trail. As soon as they arrived at the Christiani basilica Teo requested an audience with the Papa. After a short wait they were shown to the far end of the building where the Papa’s throne was located. He sat on it now beneath the yellow window of the flying dove.

  “Greetings to you both,” the Papa said. “You will be happy to hear that Brother Ambrosius’s hand has healed well over the past weeks.”

  “Indeed that is good news, Holy Father.”

  “And how may I help you, Teofil? I am told your errand is urgent. That is fitting, for we live in urgent times.”

  “I come with a strategy for attacking the forces of Nikolo Borja.”

  “Ah, do you indeed? Battle planning has been on my mind of late as well. The Knights of the Cross are gathering tonight to discuss the matter of troop deployment. In fact, we’re meeting at the very estate where you’ve been residing. As a military man, your insights would be welcome at our convocation.”

  “I will gladly attend, Your Holiness. And I have a feeling you might wish to give the men a demonstration of a weapon I’ve developed.”

  The Papa seemed intrigued. “What sort of weapon?”

  “Allow me to show you.” Teo set his rucksack on the floor and began to rummage through it.

  “You’re going to do it inside?” Ana whispered.

  “On a very small scale.” Teo held up a round ball about the size of a cherry. It was made of stiff leather sealed with wax. A fuse poked out of it.

  “This
secret weapon has tremendous power. I have some thoughts about how we might use it.”

  “It doesn’t look that impressive, Teofil,” the Papa said.

  “Its force can be expanded by several magnitudes. But even so, watch what this small version can do.”

  Teo set a household idol of the fish-god Dakon on the floor of the basilica. The Papa leaned forward, fascinated. Teo placed the little bomb between the god’s feet and lit the fuse. It began to sizzle and spark. The Papa’s eyes went wide.

  When the bomb exploded, the sharp report inside the basilica nearly made the Papa leap off his throne. The flash of light, the sudden burst of smoke, the echoes of the bomb’s explosion—each made a dramatic impact. The idol of Dakon went skittering across the floor with one of its legs broken off.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it!” the Papa exclaimed. “What is this thing?”

  Teo reached for a sack of black powder and handed it to the amazed leader of the Christiani. “It’s the mighty provision of Deu,” he said.

  Stasia and Teofil were talking together on the beach. Liber could hear them clearly, though he wasn’t interested in their words. He was engrossed with the little brown seashells he was arranging in the sand.

  “It went even better when I showed it to the knights,” Teofil told Stasia in an excited voice. “You should have seen their expressions! That little idol shot up in the air and shattered when it hit the floor. It was perfect!”

  “So they want to use the powder?”

  “Definitely. We devised a great plan. The enemy isn’t going to know what hit him.”

  “Well, you’re the warrior. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

  “There’s a lot to accomplish between now and Midsummer’s Day. Three weeks isn’t long to make the bomb and put all the pieces in place. There will be lots of strategy meetings. We’re supposed to relocate to the basilica. Vanita with you, and Marco with me. I need his help to pull this off.”

  “But what about—?”

  Liber stopped arranging the shells and glanced toward Stasia. He could see she was indicating him with a nod of her head. People always think I don’t know what’s going on. I might be slow, but I understand!