The crowd cried out. “Yes!” I heard someone shout.
“We are the wolves,” I said. “We have learned to hunt as a pack. We have learned to bring down the shepherd that would pick us off one by one with his crossbow. The sheep Teleso is now our easy prey. And we can turn on those who would leave us to starve!”
There was another cry from the crowd.
“Not all the soldiers are our enemies,” I said, and gestured so that people turned to face the soldiers that now ringed the edge of the crowd. “We are not the only ones who have been abandoned to die. They are prisoners as much as we are. Join us!” I shouted to the soldiers. “Cast aside Teleso and join us against our enemy. Against your enemy! Once we are dead Teleso will have no use for you, either. You are men, not monsters! You are not Teleso’s sheep—you are wolves, like us!”
Mario stepped forward, very deliberately. He held up a red sash, like the Lupi wore, for all to see, then tied it around his waist. Around him, other soldiers brought out red sashes and tied them on.
A cheer broke forth from the crowd.
“To the keep,” I shouted. “We will tear down the walls with our anger! We will break into the storehouse of food! We will water the hills of Ravenna with the blood of our enemies.”
I raised my fist, and the battle cry of the Ravenessi army echoed across the valley like a pack of a thousand wolves hunting under the full moon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Who can stand against the tide?
—The Journey of Gèsu, chapter 22, verse 23.
As I stood on the hillside, I heard a zip near my ear and heard Giovanni shout, “Look out!” Realizing that I was being fired on, I scrambled down the slope and into the mass of Ravenessi, and we started to run.
I could see very little from the middle of the crowd; once we were moving, I realized that I had no way of communicating with my army, no way to direct our actions. To the keep ran through the crowd like spilled water; I pushed my way toward the front of the refugee army, trying desperately to lead it.
There were so many of us! I could see soldiers scattering like leaves in wind. Many of the soldiers had followed Mario’s lead and joined us, their insignias ripped from their sleeves, and others threw their crossbows to the ground, getting as far out of our way as they could. I saw Isabella hit a soldier on the head with a short club, then rip the crossbow from his arms and turn it against his fellows.
I heard screams of pain around me as we reached the keep and realized that we had been met with a torrent of crossbow bolts. I scanned the side of the keep, noticing the tiny narrow windows that provided just enough space for the bowmen to pick us off. Some of my men were trying to batter down the door. Where was Mario’s friend Bassio? I scanned the keep and with a sickening lurch of my stomach realized that his body swung from a rope out of one of the upper-story windows of the keep. “Oh no,” I whispered.
Another curtain of bolts fell on us and people scattered. Someone jerked on my arm—Giovanni. “Cover!” he shouted. “You idiot! We need to get under cover—don’t you realize they’re aiming for you?”
I let Giovanni drag me toward one of the residual walls at the edge of the piazza. “What now?” he asked.
“The soldier swinging by his neck was going to let us in,” I said.
Giovanni looked over the wall and quickly ducked back down. “Do you have a backup plan?” he asked.
“Got any suggestions?”
“Well, now is just a grand time to ask, Generale. You sure let us think you had everything under control.”
“Well, if you don’t, then—”
“We could leave,” he said. “Retreat now. The soldiers are in the keep; they’ll have to come out to follow us. We could get a head start—”
“We need the grain,” I said. “We need it. Or this is all for nothing—we’ll just starve even faster. Unless you had some ideas about how to feed our army.”
“You never asked,” he said.
“Well, do you?”
“No. Maybe if you’d asked earlier I’d have thought of something.”
Most of our army had found some cover by now, and we stared across the piazza. “Stalemate,” Giovanni said.
“Generale!”
I looked behind me as Mario ran up. “I can get us inside,” he said breathlessly.
“Bassio is dead,” I said.
Mario’s jaw tightened. “I know,” he said. “But I have another way. Through the south door. Get some people together to give us cover; the soldiers in the keep will fire as soon as we’re out in the open.”
I looked around, at a loss. The Lupi weren’t going to want to leave cover. Maybe if I left it first … I leapt up onto the wall I’d been hiding behind. “Follow me!” I shouted, and a new cheer went up from our army.
“What the hell,” Giovanni sputtered, but fortunately the crowd surged around me again and we ran through the rain of bolts.
The south door Mario had referred to was near the back of the keep, the smallest and grimiest entrance. We pushed and the door opened easily.
“How?” I asked as Mario passed me.
“Arianna,” he said. “She said she’d leave it open for us if she could.”
“I owe you,” I said.
“No,” he said. “You owe her.”
Our army surged into the keep. This was better; Teleso’s men would lose some of the advantages of their crossbows, firing along the twisting hallways of the keep. But it would be harder for us to use our numbers against them. “Spread out,” I said as my army surged in. “Open all the doors, set guards over anything of value. Find Teleso. Kill the ones who don’t surrender. Tonight, Ravenna will be ours.”
The wolves were on the hunt; the keep had become a trap. We could smell our prey, fleeing helplessly into the farthest corners. I found myself with Mario, Giovanni, Michel, and about a dozen more Lupi. Giovanni had a sword and a crossbow that he’d taken from a surrendering soldier; I realized, looking at him, that all I had to defend myself with was my knife.
“Upstairs,” Mario said, so we followed him up the narrow spiral. As we emerged into the corridor, there was a snap of a bolt hitting the wall, and we saw a soldier retreating into a room, trying frantically to reload his crossbow. It was Tullo, one of the boys who’d come to my concerts. As we advanced on him, he dropped the bow and drew his sword. “Traitors,” he said in a shaky voice. “We should have hanged you with Jesca and Beneto.”
“Wrong way to say you surrender,” Michel said, and the Lupi surged forward. Tullo got in one good swing, wounding someone across the arm, and then they ripped the sword out of his hands like the shepherd’s “bow” and threw it aside.
“Bastardo,” Michel said, and threw Tullo against the wall. “Bastardo.” I heard a coughing choke and saw a gush of red; one of the Lupi had stabbed Tullo in the chest. They backed off as Tullo fell onto his face, his hands grasping at the rug under him.
“I surrender,” Tullo choked, and died.
“Come on,” I said, willing my voice not to tremble. “We are wolves. This is war. Come on.”
The hallway outside the room was empty. There was a row of doors; several were open, the rooms empty. Then we came to a barred door. “Leave us alone,” a voice shouted from behind the door. “Teleso isn’t in here.”
“Break it down,” I said, and Mario and Michel slammed into it, knocking it off its hinges. I started to follow them into the room, but they pulled up short. I saw two men backing up against the far wall—Vincente and Ilario, not soldiers I liked. I shouldered Michel out of the way so that I could see the rest of the room.
“One step more,” Vincente said, “and she dies.”
I felt myself blanch and my hands started shaking. They had Arianna, Teleso’s maidservant. Vincente gripped her firmly by the arms, and Ilario held a sword to her throat.
“Stay back,” I said over my shoulder.
“What is it?” Giovanni asked.
“How are you planning to get out of Ra
venna?” Michel asked. “Even if we let you walk out of this room.”
“Let her go,” Mario said. He was clenching his teeth so tightly I could see the veins in his neck. “Damn you. Let her go.”
“Oh yeah,” Vincente said. “Teleso’s maid is your little cunt, isn’t she, Mario?” Vincente glanced at Ilario, who raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “We’ll give you an even trade,” Vincente continued. “You for her. You’ll make just as good a hostage.”
“Mario—” I whispered.
“You for her!” Vincente shouted, jerking Arianna’s arms behind her so that she grimaced in pain. “You have five seconds to make the trade.”
“I’ll do it!” Mario said. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll do it.”
“Drop your weapons,” Vincente said.
“Don’t do it,” Arianna said.
Ilario slapped her on the face with the flat of the sword. “He didn’t ask you.”
“Don’t touch her!” Mario said. “Leave her alone.” He handed me his sword and his bow. “Me for her. Swear on your honor as a soldier to honor that.”
“Swear on the same honor you swore your loyalty on?” Ilario said.
“Mario, don’t,” I said. “He’s going to kill both of you.”
“They need a hostage to get out of here,” Mario whispered. “I’ll have a better chance of breaking free than Arianna.” He started slowly across the room. As he approached, Ilario lowered the sword from Arianna’s throat, and Vincente relaxed his hold on her arms. Finally, they shoved her away; Vincente grabbed Mario’s arms and twisted them behind him.
“I never liked traitors,” Ilario said, and drew back his sword.
“Mario,” Arianna screamed, as Ilario stabbed Mario in the gut.
Vincente dropped Mario onto the floor and looked up with a smile of vicious satisfaction. “You’re right; we’ll never get out of Ravenna. Might as well take the opportunity to kill the traitor.”
“You can join him!” Michel shouted, running across the room, Giovanni on his heels.
Arianna had thrown herself to her knees next to Mario. “Help him,” she begged me, and I knelt beside them.
“I don’t know anything about healing—” I whispered, tearing his shirt open. I gagged at the smell of blood and rent bowels. If I could stop the bleeding … I used my knife to cut loose the edge of Mario’s tunic, to try to hold it over the wound. “Mario, Mario, hold on. I’ll find Petro—”
Mario shook his head, his face contorted in pain. “Waste of time,” he muttered. “Go on, both of you. We are wolves, and this is war.”
Arianna clasped Mario’s hand and raised her anguished eyes to meet mine. “Teleso was here,” she said. “There’s a secret door behind that tapestry.” She pointed. “It opens to a staircase that leads down to his study. Maybe you can stop him—”
I looked down at Mario; he had closed his eyes, pressing Arianna’s hand to his lips. Then I stood up. “Giovanni!” I said. The Lupi were tearing apart the two soldiers; I pushed aside the tapestry. “This leads to Teleso’s study. Six of you—with me. The rest—meet us there.”
I spared a last glance toward Mario; he was whispering something to Arianna, pressing a knife into her hand. Then I turned and tore down the stairs. The darkness closed around us as we ran. I still clutched Mario’s sword and bow, although now that I was running down the stairs it occurred to me that I didn’t have a clue how to use the sword, and the bow would be useless on a spiral staircase. Oh well; it was too late to back off now. We emerged, breathless but unchallenged, in Teleso’s study. Giovanni burst in a moment later. “No one,” I said.
“We need to organize,” Giovanni said. “What do we still need to secure? Teleso’s soldiers have scattered, but it’s a safe bet that they’ll try to cause us as much trouble as possible.”
“The horses,” I said. “Teleso won’t get far on foot, and we need the horses. Also the wagons. And this study; there might be information here we can use. And—Oh, hell. The grain.” I stood, my arms still full of useless weaponry. “I didn’t send anybody to guard the grain. What if Teleso—”
Giovanni glanced past me to the Lupi. “You—stables. You—wagons. You guard the study.” He looked back at me. “Come on. No, wait.” He pulled the sword out of my hand. “You’re holding this wrong.”
“Giovanni, who cares? Let’s go.”
“You don’t know how to use a sword. The middle of a battle is not the time to take up new weapons. Stick with your knife and the bow—you’re less likely to kill yourself with your own weapons. Just don’t shoot yourself in the foot.” He handed off the sword to one of the soldiers, then grabbed my arm to run for the granary.
It was down near the kitchens; the small northwest tower was used entirely for food storage. The keep swarmed with refugees. We went down some more stairs and then down a narrow hallway to a door that was already open. I felt panic beginning to rise in my throat, I’m such a fool, Teleso knows how badly we need this grain. He knows. Through the door. Into the tower—
Giovanni pulled up short, putting out one arm to hold me back. “Shh,” he said.
From beyond the door into the granary, we could hear someone talking. “Can’t you think of anything more original than carving my guts out?” a calm woman’s voice demanded. The voice was pitched to carry as far as possible. “Niccolo, I’d have expected something more interesting from you.”
It was Lucia’s voice. I looked at Giovanni and saw my own horrified expression in his face. Gesturing for silence, he pulled me closer to the door and we peered in.
Niccolo stood with his back to the door, his sword in one hand, a torch in the other. Lucia sat in front of him. Her knife was a few feet away. He’d apparently disarmed her and then paused to gloat.
“I could burn you alive along with the grain,” Niccolo said. “Would that satisfy your desire for a novel form of martyrdom?”
“Well,” Lucia said, her voice still calm and cheerful. “It is the sort of thing I’d expect from a lackey of the Fedeli—”
Giovanni raised his crossbow and peered carefully down the sights. For a moment I thought he was going to do the sensible thing and shoot Niccolo in the back. Then—“Niccolo!” he shouted.
Niccolo whirled just as Giovanni fired the bow. The bolt missed him by inches. I raised my own bow, fired, missed.
“What kind of idiot stands with his back to the door?” Giovanni demanded, drawing his sword.
“What kind of idiot messes up a perfectly good shot by warning the target?” I said.
Niccolo didn’t answer. He glanced from me to Giovanni with a leer of satisfaction. He opened his mouth to speak, then cried out in pain, twisted around to look behind him in astonishment, and collapsed onto his face on the floor. The torch fell from his hand.
Lucia stood behind him, a bloody knife in her hand. “Sorry to mess up your duel, Giovanni,” she said. She stamped out the torch, then wiped the knife off on Niccolo’s tunic. “Teleso’s last orders, apparently—burn the grain.”
“Why didn’t he?” I asked. I still had my own knife in my hand. I slipped it back into the hidden sheath in my boot.
“You know Niccolo,” Lucia said. “I think I could have kept him talking for another hour. He wants to see you scared, or it’s just no fun.” She looked down at Niccolo’s body. “I think I’m going to be ill,” she said, and threw up.
Back upstairs, we headed outside to take stock of the situation. Nobody seemed to be firing; the clash of swords had been replaced by the cries of the injured and dying. The dusty ground of the piazza was stained a dark mud brown from blood, and there were bodies everywhere. Fallen Lupi mixed with loyalist soldiers and mutineers; many had clothing so bloody I couldn’t have said which side they’d died for. I saw Rafi moving from fallen body to fallen body, comforting the living and drawing a cross over each of the dead.
“Did we win?” I said.
“Yeah,” Giovanni said, looking surprised that I’d asked. “We won.”
The Ravenessi began to swarm through the keep, touching the rugs and the curtains and the eggshell-thin glasses, breaking and stealing and dirtying. People were carrying off an amazing variety of items. Michel dragged a wine barrel toward the piazza with one of his friends. Isabella had carved up a haunch of meat from the pantry and was cooking it in the gruel pot. I thought I saw the glint of a gilt-edged mirror, and several people had carried off rugs and tapestries and furniture to decorate their makeshift tents.
I heard a piercing screech from the door of the keep. “Behold,” Severo cried. “Teleso’s whore.”
“No,” Giula shrieked, trying to tear her hand away from him. “Leave me alone, leave me alone.”
“You know where he is,” Severo said. “You know where he’s gone! Tell us!” He smacked her hard across the face.
“I don’t know. He left me alone. He said he’d come back but he never came, leave me alone.” Giula still wore the dark red velvet dress, but it was crumpled and bloodstained. “Help me, please, somebody. Please. Please leave me alone.”
I watched for a moment in silence.
“Tell us what you know,” Severo said.
“I don’t know anything. I swear. I’ll swear by anything you want. I don’t know.” Giula was nearly hysterical.
“Well, we have you, in any case,” Severo said gently, touching her cheek, then backhanding her again. “You, Teleso’s whore.”
The one other person who would have defended Giula was Mario. So I strode over to where Severo was beating her. “Leave her alone,” I said.
Severo turned toward me, an ugly expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said. Leave her alone. It’s because of her I didn’t follow Jesca and Beneto to the gallows. She kept Teleso distracted. So leave her alone.” He released her slowly, letting her fall to the ground. “Have your fun with someone else,” I said.
“Niccolo’s already dead. I was hoping to kill him myself.”
Fires of the Faithful Page 31