A Pound of Flesh

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A Pound of Flesh Page 21

by Susan Wright


  I leaped forward, accusing him, "You are the traitor! You conspired with the Cilean spies, and you will answer to the doj."

  He grabbed my wrist, nearly crushing it in panic. I pummeled his face with my fist, calling to the slaves, "Help me!"

  The doorkeeper let go of me."Stop at once! I’ll put the lot of you in the well—"

  Emboldened by my example, the slaves surged forward. They hardly looked threatening, but the doorkeeper fled back to his closet, slamming the doors shut. I stuck a poker through the handles so he couldn’t get out.

  With the remnants of my ragged warband behind me, I finally reached Bene. He was delirious with pain, lying on the floor. His clothes had been torn off and his back was flecked with blood and welts. There was a coiled whip lying on the table.

  In dismay, I asked the slaves to help move him to a bed. One solemn girl with delicate, pointed features and sun-bronzed skin fetched a basin of water and some ointments. She remained calm as she tended Bene, and I soon trusted that he was safe in her capable fingers.

  I soothed poor Bene, whispering in his ear, "I’m sorry I was too late, Bene. I came as soon as I could."

  His eyes opened, fastening on mine. He recognized me, his hand clenching convulsively on mine. Then he drifted away again.

  Tears threatened, but I could not break down now.

  The demons sensed my weakness and whispered to feed my fears. They told me that Lexander was already dead and that the Cileans were at the door.

  As the solemn-eyed girl, Eshter, smoothed the balm she had found onto Bene’s back, I asked, "What happened to that other master—Lexander?"

  She averted her head. "I haven’t seen him in days."

  I put my hand on her arm. "I know you can’t trust anyone, Eshter, but this is vital. I must know what happened to him."

  With her eyes fastened on Bene’s torn back, she said flatly, "There’s an old well in the cellar that they put us in to punish us. We have to stand in the water that rises and falls with the tide. Vido was in the well yesterday, and he says he heard the master talking in one of the cells. But why would a master be down there?"

  "Which one is Vido?" I demanded.

  "He’s the boy who ran off."

  I looked down at Bene. He was in no condition to be moved. "Will you stay here with Bene? We need to get out of here, but there’s something I must do first."

  Eshter responded as she had been trained. "I won’t leave his side. You can rely on me."

  I was not so sure, but I had little choice in the matter. I hurried back downstairs. There were only four slaves at the door waiting for me; the others had fled with their spoils. I sent two of the slaves up to stay with Eshter to help with Bene. The others carried all of the goods they had gathered across the lane to wait in the cellar. People were running in outright panic in every direction, similarly laden down.

  I wanted to hurry down to the cellars to find Lexander, but the channel beckoned at the end of the alleyway. I had to find out what was happening with the Cilean fleet.

  The waterway was crowded by boats, everyone shouting at one another as they tried to force their way through the narrow passageways. I dipped my hand in the water and saw the reason why. My warning had not come soon enough for the doj’s home fleet to intercept the Cileans. Too many of the invading ships had slipped through the last defense line and were rapidly approaching Veneto. The gentry and wealthy merchants were abandoning the city in their own ships, taking their families to safety. The less fortunate fought over smaller boats, fleeing to the mainland to take refuge in the Holy Empire.

  The bulk of the Cilean fleet would reach the city by daybreak. The doj’s ships were already skirmishing with them in several places. Flames devoured the canvas sail on one ship. Other shipmasters had realized what was happening and were rapidly retreating to Veneto to try to cut off the Cileans. Unless the sea spirits and wind favored them, the Cileans would get here first.

  I ran to tell the doj.

  21

  I no longer tried to feign nonchalance. I burst into the doj’s chamber without caring that it was filled with men. "The Cileans are coming!" I cried out. "Their ships have slipped past your defense fleet."

  Silvo looked up from the sea maps spread across the tables. "No . . . it cannot be."

  His councilors were busy quarreling with one another, but those who heard me looked up in alarm.

  "They’ll be here by sunrise." I went over and placed the tiny wooden ships where the spirits had shown me. "There’s fighting there." I pointed to the places where I had seen the men in the ships drawn close, brandishing spears. "The water runs red with blood."

  The councilors were shaking their heads and arguing, trying to drown me out with their raised voices. To them I was the doj’s doxy, not to be taken seriously. But the doj had heard the truth from me too often. His eyes lingered on the ships I had moved, trying to determine how he could win such a battle.

  The doj asked a few questions of his councilors, and one gestured contemptuously at my display, claiming, "It’s preposterous! Even if we recalled the fleet to defend our very shores, they wouldn’t get here in time."

  "I’ll not have my city sacked," the doj declared furiously.

  I drew back as the councilors shouted over the dilemma. They had no soldiers, no more ships, no way to stop the Cileans.

  The doj knew it, too. His fist clenched as he glanced at me; then he quickly gestured with his chin toward the private door.

  I waited in the curve of the stairs. He appeared only a few moments after me, as if fearing I would vanish again.

  He took hold of my arm. "How can I save Veneto?"

  "Have you any gods who favor you?"

  He stared at me. "They say Kristna is strong, but he is not the patron of my city."

  I wrung my hands. "I wish I had seen them sooner! The Cileans must have offered great sacrifices to the sea spirits to hide their approach."

  His fingers tightened on me. "I will give these spirits anything they desire. Even if it’s the lives of my people. Tell me what you want."

  I could hear his suspicion, even now. He feared I would betray him into his enemy’s hands.

  But perhaps I could help him. "If you are serious about this, you may be able to sway the spirits. But they demand the most we can give, so you would have to reveal yourself to them with complete honesty."

  "I’ll do whatever is necessary." His narrowed eyes said he still doubted me.

  "Then come to the boat launch. You’ll have to speak to the spirits through me. Hurry, there’s not much time."

  He held on to my arm as we went down the stairs. At the boat launch, the sky glowed through the open doors in brilliant pink and orange flames, tinting the clouds. The day had gone far too fast. Several sentries stood armed and ready at the doors guarding the water gate.

  "You’ll have to give them a story about yourself, something powerful," I explained. "Only the most significant sacrifice of a secret long held will be enough to convince them to save Veneto. If they honor your revelation, they may change the currents in the waters and turn the wind against the Cileans. They alone can keep your enemies at bay."

  "You can’t be serious," Silvo told me in a low voice. "You want me to tell you a secret? Something incriminating?"

  "This is your only chance to avert disaster," I said sternly. "They must hear you clearly to understand, and for that you need me. I know this will be hard for you because you conceal yourself so well. But the spirits demand that we give of ourselves when we ask for a miracle."

  "You’re not giving anything," he retorted.

  "The spirits know everything about me." I clasped my hands between my breasts. "Please don’t let this city burn."

  He considered my plea, pacing away a few steps. Then he glanced up as if thinking of the councilors in his chambers who were growing increasingly frantic. Indeed, he had no other option. But he was a deeply pragmatic man, and things of the spirit had no hold over him.

&nbs
p; "Get out! " he ordered the sentries, making them withdraw. "No one is to disturb us."

  When they were gone, I sat on the smooth brick and curled my legs beneath me, placing my hand in the water. "Come, sit beside me. You must try to touch them, but don’t be concerned if you feel nothing. I’ll convey your story to them, but they must feel your presence in the water."

  The doj was uncomfortable as he copied me, dipping his hand in. I took his other hand and held it firmly. Then I drew a deep breath, reaching out to the spirits.

  Gradually I sank into the motion of the water. The sea spirits were fascinated by the doj because he ruled their favorite city. A sacrifice directly from him could be enough to quell their support for the Cileans. Silvo must reveal his heart, and at the heart of the doj was his grasp of power.

  "What made you the man you are?" I asked. "You are from a noble family, but you had humble beginnings, did you not? What has driven your rise to rule?"

  "I was the boy my parents birthed, and the man my shipmates made me."

  "You weren’t always this way," I protested. "Not when you were a child."

  He hesitated. "No. My father was an artisan, but early on I realized I was destined for a life at sea. I worked as a cabin boy first, then sailor and shipmaster. I suppose I was a happy boy."

  "Yes, the spirits have watched you." Their images ranged from a grinning, round-faced youth who knew little about ropes and ballast weights, to Silvo’s steely-eyed reign over a merchant ship. The spirits clamored for more. "Why did you leave the sea?"

  Silvo didn’t want to reveal himself; he doubted me. But he had come too far already. He took a deep breath, averting his eyes from mine. "The sea had few comforts, but that was not important to me. Even after my father died, I returned to my mother’s home little changed. I was a youth; what did I know about the cares of a widow with several children at home?"

  I conveyed every nuance to the sea spirits. "I understand, " I assured him. "Your mother must have struggled mightily."

  He briefly met my eyes. "One time I came home to find her cousin there. My father’s side of the family had fallen away from wealth and influence in Veneto. But Loranzo was thriving from his wise investments. I assumed he was simply visiting, but he stayed too long and it was apparent he knew the ways of the house. The children were banished to the upper level and my mother tried to send me out as well. But I resisted, feeling that I was the man of the house and must stay. I was naive; my mother was his mistress."

  "How did you find out?"

  He clenched his teeth at the thought of it. "She took him to her bed that night, the bed my father had shared with her.When Loranzo was done, he left without a word. I tried to challenge him in the hallway, but my mother intervened. Loranzo shoved me aside as if I were his own serving boy." Silvo shook his head briefly. "I swore I would put a stop to it, but my mother . . . she insisted that she had to feed the children and clothe herself, and there was no money to do so. I gave her all I had, but it was nothing, nothing compared to her needs. It would be many years before I gained a post that would allow me to provide for her, and meanwhile there were my brothers and sisters to be cared for. My mother claimed that Loranzo supported them. He maintained our home and sent my brothers to school. But every time I returned and Loranzo took her to bed, I wanted to kill him."

  The sea spirits were greedily absorbing all he said. But I couldn’t understand the depths of his anger. "Why?" I had to ask. "It was her choice to take Loranzo as her lover—"

  "She was forced to it!" Silvo insisted. "If my father had survived, she would never have been brought so low. She wore the clothing he gave her, and received him at any hour he desired. She even entertained his friends in our home, and cultivated women for their willingness to please his guests. She was no longer welcome in polite society."

  His fingers dabbled in the water, and he avoided my eyes again. "I left the defense fleet as soon as I could and joined the service of a shipping merchant, intending to make my fortune to help her. I discovered later that Loranzo had recommended me so that I would not come home as much. I gained status through the years until I became a shipmaster. But my mother died not long afterwards. My siblings were settled, and my dealings with Loranzo seemed at an end. My employer was a councilor to the doj, and I learned everything I could from him of politics and diplomacy, as well as shipping. My travels served me well because I had visited many of the cities that Veneto deals with. I also knew men as others did not, having had my eyes opened at a tender age. But by the time I could protect my mother, she was no longer alive."

  It still pained him deeply. I wanted to offer solace, but the spirits were clamoring louder, sensing there was something more. "What about Loranzo?"

  "As he grew older, his status decreased. I had something to do with that later, but he could not have sustained his rise. It was dependent on one man, a bad gamble, which was a lesson I learned from his downfall. I let him know I had a hand in it, and I didn’t hide my disdain for him. I also toyed with his granddaughter, spoiling her maidenhood. But it was an empty gesture in the end, when she married well." He stared into the water. "I went to see Loranzo before he died. He told me it would have been better if I had not opposed him because then my mother’s lover would have been a great man instead of a pauper. In the end, my mother was nothing but the debauched mistress of a failed man."

  I waited, but he had no more to say. "Is there nothing that can give you ease?"

  "As long as I am doj and my city is prospering, I can ask for nothing more. Does that satisfy your sea spirits?"

  The spirits were humming with approval. They had seen some of the things he had described and they were pleased to have the story that weaved everything together. "Now tell them why you want them to save Veneto from the Cileans."

  He closed his eyes and murmured like a prayer, "I am bound by the sea, as my city is bound by the sea. Who else lets the water fill the streets and come inside their very homes as we do? We are yours to protect, and I beg that you save us from the Cileans."

  In his fervor, the spirits heard him. I added my humble plea that they stop the Cileans from coming to Veneto. The rape and pillage that would ensue was too horrifying to contemplate.

  The spirits washed through us before finally withdrawing. "Yes," I said, removing my hand from the water. "I think they are satisfied. But I cannot know for certain. We shall have to wait and see what they do."

  "You don’t know if we’ll be saved?" he demanded.

  "The sea moves slowly and the ways of the spirits are difficult to understand." I tried to smile at him. "But you’ve done all you can, of that I’m sure. They’ve heard you. The rest lies with them."

  The doj got to his feet. His hand was on his knife, and his face was drawn. By morning he could be fighting for his life, at best to be imprisoned until he was ransomed by his ravaged people.

  "I’ll do whatever I can," I assured him. "I’ll return when I hear more."

  "Stay here, Marja." His voice hardened, as if he needed my obedience. Perhaps he felt vulnerable after revealing so much of himself.

  But I had to return to Castropiero. "Remember our agreement? I must be able to come and go, or I cannot help you." I held his gaze as the implied threat hung between us. I would remove my support and his sacrifice would come to naught without me.

  He almost refused, but he could not part with his last shred of hope. "Go, then!"

  Without another word, he turned and strode back into the palace.

  The streets of Veneto were emptying as twilight fell. Everyone carried baskets or pulled handcarts piled with goods. Some were abandoning the city while others were taking their precious belongings elsewhere for safekeeping. But nowhere in Veneto would be safe if the Cileans landed.

  In Castropiero, the cook was snoring loudly in the pantry and the doorkeeper remained blocked inside his closet. The rest of the servants were gone.

  I went straight to the cellar. By the time I reached the bottom step, I was chok
ing from the thick miasma of evil spirits. The narrow tunnel and dripping ceilings were dreadful. I had to take deep, calming breaths to be able to force myself to continue on.

  I found the well that Eshter had told me about beneath a round wooden cover. To my everlasting relief, there wasn’t anyone inside. I couldn’t imagine standing in that inky blackness, the cold water at my knees as I struggled to stay upright.

  I pushed open several doors, until I found one that had a heavy crossbar locking it shut. The bar was difficult to remove, but I managed to slide it out.

  The space inside was so low I had to duck my head. Lexander lay on the crude bench, apparently collapsed in utter weariness. The rise and fall of his chest made me cry out in relief.

  I knelt down beside him. In repose, he seemed much younger. Yet he was older than the oldest man alive. Perhaps to him, my life was but a blink of his eye.

  I stroked his cheek. "Lexander?"

  He stirred under my hand instead of waking instantly. He moved with great difficulty, as if his limbs were very heavy. His eyelids opened and shut again. His hands flexed slightly.

  "You must wake up, Lexander," I urged. "We need to get out of here."

  He tried to focus on me, but his golden eyes were sightless.

  It was shocking to see him this way. "What did they do to you?"

  But he was too far gone to hear. His lips were parched despite the damp air. I lifted the ladle from the water bucket, but there was something odd about the smell. It stung my nose when I sniffed it. The demons urged me to give it to him, to save his life by letting him drink the water—

  I shut them from my mind and ran upstairs to fetch fresh water. I splashed some in his face, and when I tilted the bowl to his mouth, he drank with desperate gulps. I kept giving him more water until it slowly began to revive him. His eyes finally opened and he saw it was me.

  "Marja . . ." he murmured.

  When I heard the love and longing in his voice, I wanted to cry. He had been angry for so long.

 

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