The Kingdom

by Bryan M. Litfin

“I doubt it.”

  The man’s expression turned mean, though with a hint of desperation. “I got whatever it takes!”

  “Show me.”

  The man dug into a pouch at his waist. He produced a handful of small silver coins.

  Ana scoffed. “You’ll need a lot more than that, little man.”

  The ruffian’s face reddened. He pulled out more coins and displayed them.

  “I’ll take it all up front.” Ana held out her palm. The man dutifully paid her.

  Ana turned to face the crowded barroom. “Hey, everyone—catch!” She hurled the coins into the air. The tavern exploded with activity as the patrons scrambled to grab the flashing silver.

  “You lousy whore!” the ruffian bawled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “As I said—leaving.”

  Ana shoved the man hard, sending him sprawling across a gaming table. Before anyone could react, she escaped into the night.

  The cool air felt good as Ana left the sweaty tavern. She hurried through the alleyways in case anyone followed her, but no one did. Though she was glad to have something in her stomach, she knew her predicament was dire. This city the barmaid had called Napoly was no place for an ingénue. Its streets were mean, and Ana was vulnerable—a lamb among wolves.

  Oh, Teo! Where are you? Ana missed him desperately. He always protected her, spread his wing over her, whisked her away from dangers like this. Teo had a way of making good things happen. But now he was across an ocean somewhere. Maybe even dead, if the Iron Shield’s words were to be believed. Ana pushed that thought away. Teo was no doubt alive, but far away. He wouldn’t come riding to her rescue. Deu alone was her protector, and that was more than enough. Guide my feet to safety, she prayed as she stumbled aimlessly through the streets.

  Prostitutes were on every corner. Ana passed them without speaking, and most of them left her alone. A few, however, seemed threatened by her presence. “Get off my corner,” one snapped as Ana walked past. Another mocked her clothing. “Nice dress! Your nonna give it to ya?”

  At last exhaustion began to set in. Ana realized she needed to get off the rough streets and grab some sleep. Though she had no money to pay for a room, that didn’t bother her. Finding another clean stable was the best option. She would rise at first light and ask a respectable policeman to help her.

  The scent of horses reached her nose. Turning into an alley, Ana tried to find the stable but realized it was a dead end. As she was walking back to the main street a figure materialized from the shadows.

  Ana stopped. The man kept coming. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Ana glanced around for a weapon. An empty bottle lay on the ground. She started to move toward it.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” the man said in a thick Napolese accent.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  The man stepped into a shaft of light from a window above. He was middle-aged, with a stocky build. Something glinted at his throat. Ana looked more closely at the man’s necklace. When she recognized it, she gasped.

  It was a pendant of the Pierced One.

  “Hey, come over here, honey,” the girl called. Other alluring shouts followed, many of them more explicit than the first. Teo only felt sickened. This wasn’t what humanity was meant for.

  Even so, he approached the prostitutes. He was willing to pay for one thing they had to offer—information.

  “I’m looking for a woman,” he said.

  “Aren’t they all,” replied a scantily clad streetwalker. She could have been pretty except for the hardness etched into her face. It pained Teo to think what her life was like.

  He shook his head. “This woman wasn’t for sale. She’s twenty-six, blonde, slender. She would have been wearing . . . ” Teo tried to picture the drab outfits the nuns wore. “A chemise with sleeves, and a thing over it. Plain wool.”

  The women laughed. Six or seven had gathered around now, like she-wolves scenting fresh meat. “You mean a kirtle?”

  “I guess so.”

  The idea drew more laughter. “Who would wear a kirtle on these streets?” giggled one of the girls.

  “Anyone who doesn’t want to get paid,” said another.

  “Just tell me if you’ve seen her. She’s a friend.”

  “Ain’t no such things as friends out here. Only the users and the used.” The comment drew nods of agreement from the crowd.

  “No!” Teo countered. “There’s a third type in the world: those who help. I’m one of those.” He glanced around at the women. “Listen, I can see you ladies don’t have any information right now. I’ll come back later. If you have anything to report, there’s a coin in it for you.”

  Teo left the women on the corner. He was several paces away when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned. A prostitute had followed him—a girl much too young to be in a place like this. Her face was still unsullied, her skin still clear. She had a delicate chin, an upturned nose, and big, wary eyes.

  “How old are you?” Teo asked.

  “Nineteen.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The girl dropped her head. “Fifteen,” she admitted.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Sugar.”

  Sugar. Teo’s heart broke. Deu have mercy on this poor soul! “What do you want with me, Sugar?”

  “I think I saw your friend.”

  “Where? Tell me—quick!”

  “There was a pretty lady wandering around. She was dressed like you said. I wanted to speak to her. She seemed kind.”

  “She is. Where did she go?”

  “I saw her go into an alley. A man followed her.”

  Teo grimaced and set his jaw. His fists clenched involuntarily.

  “Not like that,” Sugar said. “He was the religious man.”

  “The what?”

  “There’s a religious man who hangs around the streets. Never uses the women, just brings them food. Home-cooked stuff. Sometimes pastries and cakes.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  The girl shrugged. “I have no idea. He’s from a group called the Lighthouse.” Sugar lowered her voice and leaned close. “The other harlots say if you want to get out, he’ll help you. That’s why he keeps his place secret. The pimps hate him.”

  “So no one knows where he lives?”

  “No, but if you ask to go with him, he’ll take you.”

  “I have to see this man as soon as possible.”

  Sugar put her finger on her chin and thought about it. “This time of year he brings a bag of zeppole every morning.” She paused, then added brightly, “With jelly!”

  The innocent way Sugar spoke made Teo take a second look at her. She was so young, just a teenager. How did she get trapped in a life like this? Teo felt an ache in his gut, not only for Sugar but for all the women who knew nothing better than a stream of dirty men, day after day. That was not what Deu intended.

  “Where does the religious man come with the pastries?”

  “Over there,” Sugar said, pointing. “In the piazza.”

  “What time?”

  “At dawn, when the girls are coming off their shifts. He always treats us real nice. He says we’re loved by the great god Deus.”

  Teo nodded thoughtfully. So the man is Christiani—and Ana is with him! He glanced at Sugar. Though he was worried about Ana, apparently she was safe for the moment. But the girl standing before him was in desperate need.

  “Is your name really Sugar?”

  “Yeah. What else?”

  “I bet you had another name before”—Teo waved his hand at the dark surroundings—“all this.”

  Sugar nodded.

  “Will you tell me?”

  The girl fidgeted and looked at her feet. Finally she said in a barely audible voice, “My mother named me Gemma.”

  “Precious jewel.”

  “No . . . not anymore,” Sugar said wistfully.

  “You kno
w what? I think we need something from one another, you and I.”

  “I can give you everything you need, mister.”

  Teo drew back, appalled. Sugar’s demeanor had become sensual in an instant. It was as if she had donned a costume and become a different person.

  “Don’t do that!” Teo cried. “All I need is a room for a few hours.”

  “You can come into my room,” Sugar teased.

  “Stop it!” Teo gave the teenaged girl a disapproving stare, then removed a one-scudi coin from his pocket and held it up. “Just give me your key.”

  Sugar handed Teo a numbered room key from a tavern around the corner. “That much money would buy you the best girl at the top brothel,” she said.

  “No, it’s going to buy you a journey.” He put the coin in Sugar’s hand.

  “What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.

  “When the man of Deus comes by, talk to him. Let him help you get out of this city.”

  “And do what? Go where?”

  “Just get out of here! Start over in a country village. You deserve a better life. Do you have any skills?”

  “I was always a good weaver. But looms cost more money than I could ever earn. The madam keeps most of what I make.”

  Teo sighed, frustrated at the way evil entrenched itself and refused to budge. He considered how to break its hold on Sugar.

  Reaching to his neck, Teo unfastened the crucifix that Ana had tossed to him at their parting. “See this man?”

  Sugar nodded.

  “He’s more than a man. His name is Iesus, and he’s the son of Deus—the one true God. Iesus came from heaven to forgive the sins of everyone who believes in him.”

  “Not the sins of a woman like me.”

  “Yes, especially a woman like you. If you believe in him you won’t be condemned. Evildoers killed Iesus, but he came back to life. He’s alive right now, and he offers you new life. Take it, Sugar.”

  “Take Iesus?”

  “Yes, take him.” Teo hesitated, then added, “And take this pendant.”

  Sugar’s eyes widened. “It’s so expensive!”

  “I know. You could sell it. There would be enough to buy a loom and some raw wool to get you started.”

  Hope flooded Sugar’s countenance. “Would that really work?”

  “People do it all the time. You could too. This is your chance at something more.”

  “But that’s so . . . scary!”

  “Iesus would go with you.”

  “He would? With me?”

  “Every step of the way. Just ask him. He won’t say no. He loves you.”

  Sugar closed her eyes. “I ask you, Iesus. Go with me.”

  Teo saw tears dribble down Sugar’s pale cheeks. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Go now, child. Hide until morning. Then see the man of Deus and break free of this place.”

  Sugar tucked the pendant and coin inside her dress. “Thank you,” she whispered as she hurried off.

  Teo watched her go. She moved quickly, then paused and turned around.

  “What’s your name, mister?”

  “Teofil.”

  Sugar’s face brightened. She waved with her fingers. “Good-bye, Teofil,” she said.

  “Good-bye, Gemma,” Teo replied.

  The mysterious man from the alley called himself a shepherd. The girls of the street were his flock. He thought of them as pure white lambs, even though he knew they were sullied. Shepherd Nicklas didn’t mind those stains. He had been washed from that sort of life himself.

  Ana sat in his small apartment, a dingy place made lovely by Nicklas’s wife, Margherita. The kitchen served as the main gathering area, for every other room had been partitioned off with curtains to form small bedrooms. Ana knew the place was a refuge for girls who needed to disappear for a while.

  A delectable aroma emanated from the wood-burning brick oven. Even though it was after midnight, Ana found herself ravenous. The soup she ate earlier hadn’t filled her.

  “What’s that great smell?” she asked.

  Margherita smiled mischievously. “You’ll find out in a moment.”

  Ana had been surprised to see the pendant around Shepherd Nicklas’s neck when she met him in the alley. He had greeted her with kindness, and Ana immediately sensed the spirit of Deu upon the man. When she heard he gave shelter to women in need, Ana knew he was sent in answer to her prayers.

  “Would you like to freshen up?” Nicklas asked. He pointed to one of the makeshift bedrooms. “There’s a bowl and a bar of soap. I’ll pump some water for you.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Ana agreed. She felt dirty from her days in the Exterminati ship, and her dip in Napoly’s harbor only added to the grime.

  After scrubbing her hands and face, then brushing through her hair, Ana returned to the kitchen. The dish that had been making her mouth water for the past several minutes was already cooling on the counter. The golden-brown flatbread was smothered with a red sauce made from the fruits called pomodores or apples of gold. White cheese had been melted on top, garnished with fresh basil, then the crust was brushed with olive oil. Ana’s stomach growled as she smelled the heavenly aroma.

  “What’s it called?” she asked.

  “It’s a Napolese specialty,” Margherita said. “We call it pitsa.” After pouring a glass of pale lager, she instructed Ana to sit down. “No talking now, my lovely. Just eat.”

  Ana didn’t argue.

  Instead she ate three pitsas.

  At last she dropped her napkin on the table. “I couldn’t eat another bite,” she said as she finished the last of her beer.

  Shepherd Nicklas looked at his guest with a twinkle in his eye. He crossed the room to a cabinet, the kind that stored mountain ice in a block to keep the things inside cool. Removing a tub, he spooned out a creamy substance that was pink, green, and brown.

  “I think you’ll find room for spumoni,” he suggested. And somehow Ana did.

  After the meal, the threesome sat around the kitchen table sipping chicory coffee. Shepherd Nicklas began to tell his life story.

  “I was a young man when the Papa sent a missionary down from Roma,” he said. “I understood right away that Christianism was true. Of course there’s only one God! It makes perfect sense. All the rest of the deities are wicked. I could see that plainly enough.”

  “I remember feeling the same way the first time I met Deus,” Ana said. “But you didn’t know about Iesus back then, right?”

  “No one did in those days. Margherita and I gave our lives to the good God even though a lot of our questions were still unanswered. We took the Washing to mark our commitment. Then we devoted ourselves to serving our little lambs on the streets of Napoly. Others pledged themselves to that task too. We have called our community the Lighthouse. For many years this simple life of service and worship was all we knew. We believed there must be more, but we didn’t know when we’d learn it. Then, just a few months ago, a priest from the Papa brought us this.”

  Shepherd Nicklas laid a booklet on the table. It was inexpensively printed and bound.

  “The New Testament,” Ana breathed, awed by the book’s presence here. She glanced at her host. “So now you know the rest of the story.”

  The married couple joined hands and gazed at one another. “Yes. Now we know Iesus.”

  A powerful emotion swept over Ana. This is what it’s all about, she realized. This is why I’ve faced all the danger . . . all the hardship . . . all the worry and suffering! This is why Teo and I came over the mountains from Chiveis—for people like Nicklas and Margherita, who waited so patiently for the word of Deu to arise! Ana trembled at the role she had played in the mighty plans of her God.

  A clock on the wall chimed. “You’re exhausted, Anastasia. I can see it.” Margherita patted her hand. “Why don’t you go to bed now?”

  She nodded. “I think I will.”

  “And tonight no one will bother you,” Shepherd Nicklas added.


  “Thank you. I could use a night like that.”

  Teo was awake and out of Sugar’s room before first light. He waited for the man of Deus in the piazza, though not for baked treats and jelly doughnuts. The man knew where Ana was. Teo felt hopeful at last.

  Dawn arrived, and many of the weary streetwalkers shuffled past on their way to sleep. No one came to bring them pastries. Teo’s optimistic mood began to sour.

  The sound of horses’ hooves on the pavement came to his ears—a strange thing at so early an hour. Teo crossed the piazza and peeked around the corner. In the distance a prostitute was speaking to a group of seven or eight riders. All the men were young, well-dressed, short-haired, and armed. After the girl in the skimpy outfit finished pointing, the leader tossed her a coin and led his men into a side street. A sinking feeling gathered in Teo’s gut. These riders were Clansmen, and Ana was their prey. Did the prostitute see Ana go with the man of Deus? Has the Clan discovered where he lives? Teo decided he had better follow and find out.

  By the time he arrived at the side street it was empty. Teo was inspecting the packed earth for tracks when a commotion broke out several blocks away. He heard male shouting, the prancing of hooves, the jangle of horse tack. A woman screamed. Teo broke into a run.

  Following his ears, he made his way through the narrow lanes and alleys. With all the echoes off the stone buildings it was hard to discern where the sounds were coming from. Finally he spotted the riders as they flashed past a gap and disappeared. Teo noted they were headed in the direction of the harbor.

  He sprinted down an avenue he hoped would intersect with his enemies’ path. His knife was in his boot—not much of a weapon against fighters on horseback. I’ll think of something, he told himself and kept running.

  Teo reached the docks just behind the Clansmen. His heart lurched as he noticed a woman on horseback in their midst: Anastasia of Edgeton, unmistakable in her beauty. She was barefoot and wore only her white chemise. Though her hands were bound, she rode with her back straight and her chin lifted high. The morning sunlight caught her tousled hair, giving it a golden sheen.

  Teo cupped his hands. “Ana!” he shouted. She didn’t hear. He tried again, and she began to look around, but the riders blocked her view and hustled her toward the pier.