He would not have thought that many a pair of eyes would be watching him, as they watched all new-arrived rustics. We straw-chaff ploughmen were raw materials, ready to be turned to mostly dark purposes, to be made into footpads, housebreakers, arm breakers, tavern-brawl quellers, and slaves condemned at the wharves to labors even harsher than farmland had thrust upon us. A few vain promises and a spare coin or two from a glib and easy-mannered fellow clad in silk—and the bargain was made and the unwary undone. Soon the rustics accumulated debt that would keep them in low station and impecunious circumstance for years on end.
Some such thing had happened to Osbro. He had drunken too deeply with a handy and specious gabbler and ensnared himself in he knew not what sort of scheme as a pawn or cat’s-paw. Coin had been promised in heaps and, once the business was completed, the considerable pleasures of the city would be open to him. These fancies were the stuff of his dreams, but the outcome would prove bitter for him.
To me he seemed nearly useless as an instrument. Only his connection to me, and thus to Astolfo, was of value, unless his ignorance and bumptiousness counted as assets. There was one way in which they might. If the grand scheme that involved him were discovered or if it failed through ineptitude, he could be discounted as a participant, as being too naive to be able to carry out any part in it.
He must have done a deal of talking, Osbro with the grape in him, for his suborner had learned of his connection to me and of mine to Astolfo. If that last alliance were already known, then those who had deceived Osbro were known to Astolfo and me and probably to Mutano also. Our opponents would be known to us from time past and we would deal with them according to our histories.
Time drew on as my bladder grew tighter and the chain links more irritating. I could not think that Osbro’s emissaries could carry out their mission in a way to please him. Mutano, even though wearing only a tradesman’s short sword, would disarm the two of them in brief order, and bring them to Astolfo as captives. I judged these fellows burly but bumbling. The next move was the maestro’s, and he held the upper hand.
After what seemed a very long time, my brother returned, freed me from the iron, and led me to a filthy corner of the great space outside the little room to relieve myself. Then he brought me back to the disused office, laid down four thicknesses of ancient canvas, and bade me lie down. He chained my right foot to the iron chair. I remonstrated, saying that I had no desire to escape, that negotiations must be under way, and that we would all be rewarded by the results.
For answer he gave me a gloomy, halfhearted kick in the ribs. “They should have come back by now,” he muttered, and went off to find, I expected, a bed much softer than mine.
No matter. I disposed my chain as comfortably as I could and slept as soon as my eyelids closed.
* * *
The daylight was bright in the cracks and crevices of the walls and roof when voices in the warehouse woke me. Osbro and Mutano were talking, but I could not make out the words. The tones were easily readable: Osbro spoke loudly and with some heat; Mutano spoke softly and with a touch of humor.
I sat up when my brother kicked the door open and exhibited me to Mutano. My colleague showed no surprise and barely glanced my way.
“What is this damned toy?” Osbro demanded. He flung it down on the canvas beside me.
“This is Maestro Astolfo’s belt with the leopard’s-head buckle,” I said. “It is his customary wear. Everyone recognizes it. How did you come by it?”
“I brought it to this person at Astolfo’s request,” Mutano said. “He sends it to identify himself to you and as a surety of his good faith in negotiation with our amicus here.”
“So then, Guido and Gracchio are inexpert swordsmen?” I said.
“I have met nimbler,” Mutano said.
“If you hold them, I care not,” Osbro said. “For all I care, you may reap their gizzards. I have this Falco, as you call him. You come unarmed, so you cannot take him from me.”
“Yet what can you do with him? He is of no value to you now.”
“I shall question him and find out all the defenses of your house, all your comings and goings, and where you store the treasure you have gathered for so many a year.”
Mutano made a smiling half bow. He was dressed in his most splendid finery, with salt-white lace collar, black silken trunks and hose, red slippers with applied gold flowerets, and large gauntlets of flocked, stiff linen. His purpose in this dress, methought, was to cause Osbro to feel lowly and uncertain. “Then our intentions are in balance, for we shall closely question the two Jesters under our sway.”
“They can tell you nothing, for they know nothing.”
“They know more than they think they know, more than you suspect. They can describe, for instance, the appearance of at least one of those who have paid you to do certain things of which you cannot comprehend the results.”
“What say you now? Speak plain.”
“You are a fool in hire. You do not know to whom you are in hire or for what reason. With a little trouble, Astolfo can find out. What he learns from you will be to your good. Let us deal openly.”
“What terms?”
“It is no use my asking you to release Falco, for you will refuse out of hand. But you must keep him safe and without abuse. We will hold your two men until our bargain is concluded, then we will let them go at the same time you release Falco. Astolfo values him as a bodyguard and is willing to pay a reasonable ransom, provided that you agree to his other condition.”
“What other condition?”
“He will meet with you in person and question you about your new friends and acquaintances, the men you met and had commerce with when you first arrived in the city. He suspects them as his rivals in trade who are out to undermine his enterprises and drive him into poverty. If you answer satisfactorily, he will supply you with gold enough to make a start in the city in some enterprise of your own.”
“Where would this meeting take place? I will not come to his big house with its entrapments.”
“We shall seek out another place. You may examine it beforehand to inspect its safety.”
“That place too may be a trap.”
Mutano pretended to brush dust from his sleeve. “We have allowed you to keep Falco. Take him with you. If you suspect trickery, you may kill him. Your two ungainly fellows shall be allowed at your side and they will be allowed arms.”
Osbro rubbed his chin, his scalp, and the back of his neck. “Where is this meeting point?”
“That is undetermined. We are trying to find a place you will accept, some place out of the city where none of our associates might hide. A lonely place that is secure.”
“I do not trust you and your master.”
“Astolfo’s word is his bond, as everyone avers. His familiar belt is the sign of it. All Tardocco knows.”
Osbro picked up the belt and turned it over, inspecting it with indifference. Shrugging, he passed it to me. “I must think upon these things,” he told Mutano.
“I will return in four hours. The meeting place will have been chosen and I can lead you to it for your inspection. After four hours, the agreement no longer holds. We are pressed for time—as I believe you know.”
Osbro gave him a keen glance, then dropped his head, as if to ponder. Then: “Well,” he said.
Mutano came to me and clasped me on the shoulder. “Be of good spirit,” he said. “And take good care of the maestro’s belt.” He turned and went out the door and I heard his footsteps echo through the warehouse. The outer door opened and closed. He had departed.
Osbro waited, listening intently. He went into the warehouse and peered out through a broken board. When he came back, he unchained me quickly and said, “Come along. We are going to another place. If we stay here, I shall be set upon.”
“You have Maestro Astolfo’s word,” I said.
“Yes, and as useless it is to me as that childish belt that you are buckling on. It does not suit wit
h your domino outfit. In fact, it makes you look even more ridiculous.”
“I shall wear it because it is a sign of the maestro’s earnest promise.” I said. “He will keep faith with you in whatever agreement you both arrive at.”
“Wear it, then, to look the fool you are. But come along. We go to another place.” He appended to his command a resounding slap to my ear. It recalled vividly the days of my early youth.
IX
Gathering of Shadows
Osbro was correct in asserting that Astolfo’s belt with its heavy buckle sorted ill with my domino costume. The cincture hung loose upon my hips and the leopard’s head bobbed up and down, annoying my codpiece. I was overtired of the black-and-white livery; I had worn it for three days now and it was soiled and stinking. The mask had been destroyed and the cock hat with white feather had been knocked from my head and booted to lie forgotten in some foul corner. Osbro, fearing that Astolfo and Mutano would rescue me from his control, had now moved me four times within the jumble of storerooms and warehouses that brooded over the tides of the harbor. With each change of place my clothing and corpus grew dirtier.
I was heartened then when my brother announced that a site for negotiations had been agreed upon and that my exchange for Guido and Gracchio was arranged for this same evening. I looked forward to returning to the comforts of our villa, to its baths and beds and to the prideful dishes of Iratus. The crusts and orts that Osbro had allowed me to eat gave me gut-gripe and a sharp temper.
“Where is this happy event to take place?” I asked.
He paused before replying, wondering perhaps how I might use the intelligence. Then: “At a château north’ard of the town a little.”
“You have inspected the place and are satisfied?”
“I am not wholly at peace, but in the main they have met my demands. It is not the big house you live in where I could not discover all the traps. It is not here on the wharves where Astolfo can count on so many friends and allies unknown to me. For the same reason, I said no to two places in the middle of town. The château is set off alone in the fields and there is just one road going to it. I have somebody already watching that road. No one can get there without being seen.”
“You must have looked over the interior also.”
“From top to bottom, through every passage and corner. Nobody is staying there, unless we count a brace of cats.”
“A large house needs skillful mousers,” I said.
“A deserted house? The man that owned it has died and no blood-kin has come to put a claim on the place.”
“All the more reason.”
“The cats mean nothing,” he said. “They are but cats.”
“Are the rooms and corridors well lit and open?”
“As open and bare as a desert plain.”
“Then you have struck a good bargain,” I said, thinking that Mutano must have removed our maze of shadows and made the site seem as harmless as a mug of fresh cow’s milk. For this was the site of the château of the baron Tyl Rendig. Astolfo was in process of petitioning the provincial magistrates for the property as our reward for revealing the crimes of the murderous monster. The maestro told the judges that the Fates had punished the man, bringing him to fall by accident to his death. This tale was credited and we thus avoided years of legal delays and entanglements. It would be long before a final decision was forthcoming; the magistracy was not friendly toward Astolfo. They who deal in shadows are always suspected by high-minded civic leaders.
Where Osbro had procured his mount I could not say, but mine was familiar. It was Defender, Mutano’s habitual transport, and his lending of it to me was a signal favor. He had supplied a comfortable saddle too, one of my own. I took the stirrups and reins well contented.
The half moon that hung over our lonely track was of a reddish-gold color and when I gazed at it I thought how in the lunar last quarter fell the hour that the ritual burial of Bennio’s coffin must be performed. We must conclude this business with Osbro in haste. Astolfo would say, Well-ordered haste.
The land on both sides of our road was mostly level, but there were shallow declivities here and there from which we could be watched by a prone onlooker. Osbro was taking all the precautions he could, but he knew he was vulnerable, not least because he was unwilling to reveal the identities of his superiors in the confederacy. That secret he thought his best advantage at this point. In this present exchange of prisoners his position was favorable to the extent that Astolfo desired to have me back in sound health while Osbro was not greatly concerned to regain Guido and Gracchio. His position was unfavorable because when the names of those with whom he was complicit were spoken, Astolfo would know more of them and of their histories than my brother knew, he being lately come to Tardocco. The maestro would then be nearer to glimpsing our opponents’ complete design.
Tired as I was, I still had to be wary and ready to act upon the instant, whatever the situation. When we arrived at the château and entered into the courtyard where the exchange was to take place, I gave the area a quick glance-over. It was as Osbro had desired. The moon stood directly above and cast no shadow from walls or battlements. The space was empty except for the well mouth, a knee-high rude structure of stone. In our previous reconnoiter of the château, Mutano had let me down into this well by a rope. There seemed no place for Astolfo to make use of his sciomancy and the order of exchange was to be the simplest possible: Guido and Gracchio were to amble their horses to one side of the courtyard. Once they halted and were examined by Osbro, I would urge Defender toward Astolfo and Mutano. This part was most awkward for me, for if my brother desired to betray me, he could plant a knife in my ribs and gallop away with his henchmen and spur out of reach in moments.
So when the two sheepish knaves had made their way to our side and I began my approach to my colleagues, I felt my hairs prickle and the flesh rise on my forearms. Something was out of order.
The sky had darkened and the light of the reddish moon was uncanny and unrevealing. Except for the slow plod of Defender’s hooves, there was no sound, and the silence emphasized the strangeness of the light. Another light was in play, I realized as I passed the well mouth. From that cavity issued an intermittent yellow glow. The glow came from the chamber I had found earlier at the bottom of the well, but the passage of the light was hindered by some moving object.
I reined Defender to a halt and watched as a black creature emerged slowly into the courtyard. One part of it curled over the edge of the well curb on my side. Another part oozed over the stones directly before it. Defender snorted and stamped and his nervousness underlined the surrounding silence and the gradual, dark advent of the creature.
Then there were sounds of alarm from behind me where Osbro and the other two stood. Guido it was who uttered a curse, but stopped off in mid-phrase. Gracchio groaned. I heard nothing from my brother.
The emergence of the thing continued, tentacles and pseudo-pods lapping over the stones onto the sandy arena, and then the bulky black central body lugged its way out of the hole. With the light streaming from beneath, the dreadful thing cast a great, misshapen shadow in every direction around itself. Now I could hear its breath, a low raspy wheezing. There was something mournful in the sound, some quality that suggested the black creature regretted the reality of its own existence.
Onward it came, slowly making its way toward Osbro’s group.
I looked to Astolfo and Mutano. They watched the beast with interest but without apparent fear. I nudged Defender toward them, then reined him round so that I could observe from a middle distance.
The monster was almost wholly unearthed now, and it tumbled the curbstones down in its progress. It made a huge moan, a garbled roar that sounded something like an angry lion’s threat mingled with the neigh of a terrified horse. This savage trumpeting was enough to cause Gracchio and Guido to wheel their horses about and gallop out of the courtyard gateway into the broad darkness of the outer world.
Osbr
o stood his ground. After a brief time of indecision, he trotted toward the monster, unsheathed his sword, and began chopping at various appendages. He swore a number of mighty oaths, like those I had heard him utter many years ago when a cow stepped on his foot or a pig escaped the sty and ran away into the woods.
Mutano burst out laughing and Astolfo allowed himself a broad smile. I urged Defender toward them and then reined in and we stood as a trio.
Then, with a long and sorrowful sigh, the monster died a flabby death and collapsed upon itself to reveal its true nature of cloth and canvas, hog bladders and silk bladders, its armatures of wire and cable.
This revelation of the creature as an elaborate puppet set Osbro into a fury. He rushed at us to attack, but then, seeing that the three of us stood ready at defense, reined in and came to a standstill. “What mummery is this?” he cried. “Do you think me a child to be frightened by such a deception? What are you about?”
“Child or man, you were deceived,” Mutano said, “for you fell upon the puppet with might and main. I doubt there is enough whole cloth left to fashion a nose-rag.”
“I did not expect to be tricked so stupidly. We had made a bargain. Your false monster served no purpose.”
“Well, as to that,” said Astolfo, “you are now in our hands and without your henchmen to aid you. We have regained Falco in sound health, though a little mishandled, I should judge. And you shall find it much to your good to respond to our inquiry.”
“Break my bones, then,” Osbro said, “but I will reveal naught.”
“The breaking of bones is an unfriendly sport,” Astolfo said. “A polite colloquy over cold fowl and a passable wine offers a more civil entertainment. I do hope that you will accept our invitation. We can go at once and be at table within the hour.”
“I mistrust your big house,” Osbro muttered. He gave me a straight, black look.
“And what if you mistrust?” Mutano said. “You are our prisoner and any invitation is but a polite formality.”
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