Burdens of the Dead

by Mercedes Lackey

  Only that could be awkward right now.

  This…was a problem. And not a pretty one.

  Chapter 50

  Constantinople

  Benito had time to weigh and analyze his conversations with the tarkhan and with Antimo and indeed, with Hekate. The winter sky decided they needed a deluge. It rained, and rained again, in between which they got some sleet. Benito thought. It was a choice, in this weather, of drink, womanize or keep one’s mind occupied, and after Hekate’s drink Benito found he was even less keen on losing control, and there was nothing like knowing your wife was able to watch you to take the interest out of banter. Besides, women, after Maria, always seemed like salt-less food. So it was read and think. Constantinople was no Alexandria, but Alexis had had a large, old and neglected library. Benito spent some time looking things up and reading around subjects. There were pieces of an inter-locking puzzle to put together as best he could.

  Eventually he went looking for a cross-road with a small amount of wine, and a way of carefully avoiding Antimo Bartelozzi. That was taken care of by making sure Antimo was busy with his grandfather.

  Antimo had mentioned that he’d tried to speak to Hekate several more times, asked her for guidance. Called to her dogs. She had not come.

  The last thing Benito needed was Antimo Bartelozzi getting the wrong end of the stick. He knew, himself, that rationality sometimes flew out of the window in affairs of the heart. And unless he was very much mistaken, the spy-master was totally smitten. Maybe because he’d avoided it for so many years?

  Well, the reason was of no matter.

  Benito found his cross-road, suitably deserted. He poured the libation. “Queen of the Nighty, Lady of the Hunt, Guardian of the Crossroads,” he said. “Um…I’d like a word, please?”

  She answered his call, appearing suddenly at his side as if she had stepped through an invisible door.

  She looked somewhat troubled. “I am here, as you request. And how can I repay my debts?”

  “I’d be a liar if I said I’d never want help, but I am not sure about the debt,” said Benito, a little doubtfully. “It really doesn’t seem to me that you owe me anything.”

  “You freed my son.”

  “That was between him and me,” Benito countered. “And if it hadn’t been for his help, I never would have been in time to rescue my daughter.”

  Hekate shook her head. “I still maligned you. Did not trust you. Very nearly killed you.”

  “You’d be amazed how often that seems to happen. Antimo says it is my face.” Benito noted the little twitch of expression when he mentioned the spy-master. Ah. So sits the wind? He thought to himself.

  “None the less, I have learned,” said Hekate, refusing to even smile. “As a goddess I had become distant and too confident of my infallibility. I acted before I thought. That is a great and terrible failing in one with power.”

  “That doesn’t take being a goddess. But please, allow me to change the subject for a moment. I have a question to ask. A tribe called the Shardana…”

  She nodded. “Some of my people. Long gone now. Lost in the great flooding.”

  “Are you sure?” He grinned. “I hate to question the infallibility of goddess, but I have it on good authority that a sea-people called the Shardana are the ancestors of one of our captains. He said something about buildings called Nurah…”

  “Ah.” Her eyes lightened a little with recognition. “Nuraghe. They were a warlike people and much given to raiding. But their lands were flooded.”

  Benito shook his head. “Might be something different, of course. My friend was positive these were buildings—sort of stone towers. And Di Tharra said something about a fish-mouth sword.”

  She put her hands behind her back, and intoned, very much like someone reciting: “With the black arrows, round shields and the fish-tongue sword, came the Shardana, down on our cross-plowed fields and our white oxen. Woe and blood came at the bite of the bronze fish-tongue,” she grimaced. “It does not translate well, but it is the lament of the Lucca people. Like the Shardana, they were among those who gave me reverence. Their language is long gone, as are they.”

  “As I have reason to know,” said Benito, thinking of the Mother Goddess, “the old that is strong is less than easily eradicated. I know this is a lot to ask but would you speak to Androcles the triton, if I arranged it?”

  “I doubt if they would speak with me,” said Hekate quietly. “It was because of me that Poseidon killed Amphitrite. She warned me. I…slighted her, and her warning. She challenged Poseidon over his infidelity and he sunk her palace. I held back my harpoon from the place where he hid with my Pegasus, but I speared her son Triton’s children as they rushed down the gulf to my flooded land after Poseidon cracked the gate.” She sighed. “I do not know if they would ever forgive me that.”

  Benito made a face. “I’ve been reading, and it sounds to me, if your version of what happened is right, as if you might have been just the last straw. Poseidon seems to have fathered kids on nearly everything that breathed.”

  “Oh, he wasn’t fussy about them breathing,” said Hekate tartly, her tone and posture slightly more what he had come associate with her. A couple of years with Maria had made him a lot more aware of these cues than he once had been. Then she sighed. “At the very least I owe the tritons my contrition. Very well. If they will speak with me, call me. I watch. I watch over you…as I once watched my people.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He wondered if it was a good moment to mention Antimo but decided not. There’d be a suitable time. He’d bet watching involved keeping the spy-master under such observation as that expert at avoiding it had never experienced. He wasn’t entirely sure just what her problem was, but he’d been around Marco long enough to guess it would be some form of idiotic self-sacrificing nobility.

  * * *

  Later that day he chose a long straight, well-lit passage to talk to Antimo Bartelozzi. “Have you seen Hekate yet?”

  The spy-master looked like a mournful puppy. It would have been funny if Benito hadn’t felt such sympathy for him. “No, M’Lord. I go every morning and evening, and make a small libation at the Milion. It was probably sacred to her once.”

  “Hmm. I’d keep that up if I were you,” said Benito.

  He perked up a little. “Has she spoken with you?” Then he looked crestfallen again. “Have I offended her?”

  “At a guess,” said Benito carefully skirting the first question, “she feels that she has offended you. Or at least trespassed on an area that she should not have. Trust me on this. In most areas you’re much more experienced than I am, but on this—”

  He clapped Antimo on the shoulder. “In the area of women, consider me your wise, older brother. Women—well, men too, maybe even more so—get these ideas. I’d consider taking… Oh, I don’t know, a couple of mutton bones. Flowers are bit difficult at this time of year. And jewelry would be a mistake, I think. Perfume maybe. Women like perfume, but they like even more that you thought of bringing the perfume.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Antimo, stiffly. “I am content to worship.”

  “Of course. Respect and reverence are important. But a gesture to the dogs wouldn’t go amiss, eh?” said Benito.

  Antimo smiled as fondly as only a dog lover could. “Lovely animals.”

  Benito, who had seen Hekate’s hounds in the form in which they guarded the gates to the underworld, nodded. He had a feeling Antimo would still describe the slavering hell-hounds as soppy old things, really.

  “Just do it,” he urged, “And see what happens.”

  * * *

  “Talk with Hekate? The Goddess of the Crossroads, Opener of Gateways, Lady of the Night, Mistress of the Hunt?” Androcles looked quizzically at Benito, who was squeezing his thumb to stop the bleeding. “The Shardana asks endless questions already. What do we need with her?”

  Benito considered that. “Well, for starters, she’s woken up, she has worshippers again,
and she’s getting strong. I have a feeling if she took it into her head, she could close off the Black Sea. I think she has before, and this time Poseidon is not around to crack it open again. You said you had kin that lived there.”

  Androcles nodded. “You have a point. But she has a nasty temper on her, I’ve heard. And she’s got no liking for tritons. Killed a lot in the early days. You want to treat her with respect, Benito Valdosta. She’s no casual bit of fluff to take out on the water for a bit of rocking the boat.”

  “I only look stupid, Androcles,” Benito chided. “Even if I were interested, which I am not, not under any circumstances…” He shuddered a little, and it was not an act “…why would I think twice about it when my wife is the best thing that ever happened to me, and a part-time goddess herself? It’d make more sense to chop off my own toes.”

  “I’m glad you know that about your appearance,” said the triton, grinning his sharp-toothed grin.

  “If I didn’t, enough people tell me about it. Now can I ask her to come here? Talk to you?” He tried to look as earnest and solemn as he could. “She’s got no quarrel with you or your kind. Actually…look, the reason I am asking is because she said she wanted to apologize.”

  “What?” Androcles rocked back in the water with shock, and Benito didn’t think it was feigned. “Benito, goddesses don’t say sorry. There’s more chance of Juliette telling me I’m right.”

  “This one seems to be indulging in some remorse. Probably a new experience for her, and she’s not very good at it yet, but she is very determined. Humor me. It won’t hurt us.” Benito crossed his fingers behind his back. “There is a cross-road at the end of the pier. I’ll be as long as it takes to pour out a bit of wine.”

  “Save some for me,” said Androcles. “If you’re right, I’ll need it. And if you’re wrong I’ll need it more.”

  “You wish,” said Benito, over his shoulder. But he did anyway.

  Once again, Hekate appeared as if she had stepped through a door in the air, but she paid no attention to Benito. Her attention was on the triton in the water at the end of the pier.

  Hekate approached the triton very warily. Bowed…Benito suspected it was not something she had much experience at. He tossed the wineskin to Androcles.

  “Greetings, child of Triton,” said Hekate.

  “Greetings Goddess of the Crossroads, Opener of Gateways, Lady of the Night, Mistress of the Hunt.”

  Hekate took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

  The triton looked thoughtful, and gave Benito a nod. “Long time back, Lady of Gateways. Our role wasn’t exactly our idea. Or so my grandfather told me. And he had it from his grandfather. And we don’t live the mayfly lives of these humans.” He took a swig of the wineskin. “I think…maybe it is long enough ago, we can look at things differently.”

  “Time passes very differently in the otherworlds,” Hekate said, slowly. “I, I was lost within myself. Grieving for Chrysaor. Grieving for my lost people. Fearful for my Pegasus.”

  “I heard about Chrysaor.” Androcles blew out a breath, like a dolphin. “I’m sorry. It is hard to lose a child. Your people…well, some of them survived, Lady. It was vast area to flood. The crack in the gate isn’t that large or deep. The Ekwesh, Teresh, Lucca, ‘prw, and the Shardana were around afterward. Most of them are gone by now, I would guess, swallowed up by other lands and places.”

  “Benito has said…you have some trace still of the Shardana.”

  “They ended up as allies of ours. Story goes that they made a bargain to get back Triton’s conch from Poseidon.” He shrugged. “It’s a pity they never succeeded, but they broke Poseidon’s hold over us, and that was the point, really. No one likes to live a slave, and with the conch gone, or lost, there was nothing he could do to command us. What threat is a storm to us?”

  Hekate’s lips curved, verly slightly. “As little as a butterfly threatening an eagle,” she said.

  Androcles laughed. “Anyway, they were bold, daring and fairly stupid, Lady. They attacked the Great Kingdom of Egypt, and lost. The survivors fled west, and we found them a refuge on an island now called Sardinia. That was when we lost contact with them. But it is possible their descendents survive. You should talk to Captain Di Tharra. He’s more interested in old history than I am. He’s from Sardinia. Has a fish-tongue sword and an uprooted tree on his coat of arms.”

  “What is a coat of arms?” she asked.

  “A display once shown on their shields, to say who they were, and whence they came from. And he tells me that they have Nuraghe towers, in ruins now, but there, on the island.”

  “The Shardana built those. So did the Ekwesh,” said Hekate, plainly remembering, being hurt by the memory.

  “I’ve seen them down in dead-zone in the Black Sea,” said Androcles.

  That didn’t top the list of tactful statements the triton could have made. She glared at him, and then remembered she was being contrite. “The killing zone. Let us put that behind us, as you said.”

  “It wasn’t exactly Triton’s idea, Lady, let alone ours,” said Androcles. “But I mean the dead zone, when I say that, literally. The water down there is saltier, fish and other water-life cannot live down there. The buildings are as they were when the flooding came. We went to look. We do not go down there any more.”

  She nodded, gravely. “It is fitting that it be left alone and remain as it once was.”

  “I’ll pass that on,” said Androcles. “Some of our kind live in the Black Sea. The fishing is good.”

  “It has been many years since I ate the fish from there. But it was. It was also a rich and fertile land.” She sighed. “My thanks to you, and to your kind for what you did for the Shardana.”

  “They left us free of Poseidon’s call. And now I go to drink this wine and to see when you can sail, Valdosta.” With a flick of his tail, he was gone.

  Hekate stared after him. “The sea…I never understood it. I think that was why Poseidon fascinated me so. Well, I wish you good fortune in your venture here, Benito Valdosta. I must find the Shardana, or their children.”

  “They don’t exactly worship you these days, Lady Hekate,” said Benito thoughtfully. “I’d guess that the blood of your people runs in the captain from Sardinia with the coat of arms that shows the old sword, and the uprooted tree. He’s here with us, and he sails with us to deal with Jagiellon’s fleet. But Di Tharra’s a very conservative Pauline Christian, that I do know.”

  “It matters not who they worship now,” said Hekate. “I was so busy grieving that I did not do my duty by their ancestors. I will not fail their children.”

  “Then you’d better watch over Di Tharra and the fleet.”

  “Show him to me. I will watch him,” she declared.

  As you watch Antimo, thought Benito but he merely nodded. He’d become quite familiar with perfumes and he recognized the one she was wearing. There was a small perfumier distilling his wares in the Venetian quarter. The man sold small beautiful and expensive bottles of his wares. Benito had bought one as a gift for Maria. He’d guess this was the same. An errant snippet of information from his brother’s ardent reading of some foreign book said that the distillation of perfume was a relatively modern thing, and before that scented oils and fats had been made and used. Benito had said that it must have made for rather slippery lovers. Kat had tried to hit him, and said he was impossible.

  Well, maybe he was. God and Saint Hypatia knew there was very little other explanation for his life.

  * * *

  Later that day, Benito found a chance to speak to Antimo. Again he chose his spot to do so carefully; this time, Antimo’s own handsome room in the Palace. There were hundreds of handsome rooms in this Palace, and sometimes Benito wondered who on earth could have been in all of them. “Any word from the north?”

  Antimo shook his head. “No, M’Lord. Not much from anywhere. It’s cold and wet and windy, and that makes for poor travel.”

  “I saw the trit
on today. He’s going into the Black Sea to look for some of his kin. He’ll bring us word when we can sail—and scout the Dnieper. We met Hekate together, by the way. We talked of various things, mostly history.”

  “That would be valuable information, M’Lord,” Then his self discipline failed. “Did she mention my name in among these various things?”

  Benito shook his head, and helped himself to Antimo’s mulled wine. Most of the alcohol had evaporated out of it, but it was warming and soothing. “No. It was mostly about one of the tribes who used to worship her. Some of their descendants ended up in Sardinia. Very interesting if you are fascinated by ancient history. Not thrilling otherwise.”

  “She is looking well?” asked the spy-master.

  Benito almost rolled his eyes. “Yes. She has some nice new scent, I noticed. It was making the dogs sneeze.”

  Antimo was no fool. He colored slightly, but understood the message for what it was. “Thank you, M’Lord.”

  “All right. We still need to find a way to get the tarkhan where he wants to go and as quickly as possible,” Benito said. “In the meanwhile we need to work on the plan to defend the Bosphorus itself. Jagiellon has the manpower for a land-army to swamp ours, if he can get them here before we sink his transports.”

  “The people of Thrace could be quite hostile to him, M’Lord. On either shore. And the channel is not so wide as to not to be well covered by the fortresses we have taken.”