He stepped out of his boat in the Arsenal district and walked along the waterfront until he heard people speaking Greek. The Arsenal was the Greek neighbourhood – he’d learned that much from Constantine Graitzas and his men. Having found a taverna, he went in and ordered – in Greek.
In an hour – with a little gentle persuasion, a fine Greek accent and a few coins – he had Constantine Graitzas sitting with him.
‘It seems a wet day to pay a visit,’ Graitzas said.
Swan raised his cup and drank. ‘I’d rather be wet than dead,’ he said. ‘I need to reach your commander. The proveditor.’
Graitzas paused in mid-swallow. ‘You want to meet with Loredan?’ he asked.
‘As soon as it can be arranged.’ Swan sat back. ‘And until I meet with him, I’d like you and your friends to protect me.’
Graitzas nodded. ‘In Venice?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry to say – yes. In Venice.’ Swan nodded. ‘I need to use your people, but I want you to see me meet with Loredan. So you know you can trust me.’
Graitzas nodded. Then he allowed himself a thin smile. ‘I think you are a fox,’ he said. ‘A sly one.’
By the time Swan was done plotting, it was past complines. He had sent a note – in code – to Di Bracchio. He’d sent a verbal message by a young and very dirty Greek girl to Giovanna.
He sent another verbal message to Petr.
And then he waited.
He watched the street, and the piers – he watched every boat as the light faded.
He half-expected a gang of toughs – thirty or forty men. He’d prepared a bolthole, and he had all of his stradiotes ready – with bows.
Dmitri and Giannis and Constantine were all disposed to mock his fears.
‘Tease away,’ he said. ‘Just stay alert and keep an arrow set to your string. I’ll pay you either way.’
An hour after dark there was a stir by the water.
And then Lorenzo Loredan came through the door. He was very plainly dressed and wet through.
‘I won’t bother telling you how this had better be good,’ he said by way of greeting.
Swan saw the boat disgorging armoured soldiers.
Loredan looked at the stradiotes. ‘You wouldn’t protect him from me?’ he said.
Constantine raised his hands so that it was clear he wasn’t going for a weapon. ‘He’s all yours, Illustrious Lord. But he said we had to protect him until you came.’
Loredan looked at Swan. ‘Interesting, since I came to arrest you.’
Swan nodded. ‘Last night you asked me a question and I pledged my word.’
‘Today is different.’ Loredan shrugged. ‘The stakes are very high now.’
‘But I know the whole game,’ Swan said.
Loredan sighed. ‘Is this a confession?’ he asked.
Swan slammed a fist on the table. ‘No,’ he said. An armoured soldier peered in, but Loredan waved him away.
Loredan spread his hands. ‘I can give you a minute or two,’ he said. ‘Then I have to move.’
Swan leaned forward. ‘Jacopo Foscari means to sell the Arsenal to the Turks. He is in contact with them even now. He is collecting soldiers to take control of the centre of the city – from his father.’
‘I know all of that,’ Loredan said calmly. ‘And I wonder how you know.’
‘Balthazar,’ Swan said. ‘He told me virtually the whole plot. The rest came to me when I saw Foscari at Messire Viladi’s.’
‘Ah!’ Loredan said. ‘That I believe – how elegant. I lost the Illustrious Jacopo for four hours today.’
‘Can you make a deal?’ Swan asked.
Loredan smiled thinly. ‘Almost any deal,’ he said.
Swan leaned back. ‘I think … I think that I was sent here to bring a company of mercenaries into the city. Men down on their luck who would do whatever they were ordered for enough money. My passport is good and my credit with the Senate excellent.’
Loredan nodded. ‘I agree. You still have to convince me you are not the capitano of this enterprise.’
Swan nodded. ‘Here is where I convince you. Let us imagine that I have arranged for the men-at-arms of the company to be … confined.’
‘Ah!’ Loredan said. He leaned forward.
Swan shrugged. ‘At least, I have tried. Many things I do not know, but I have suggestions.’
Loredan sighed.
‘Who is paying for the Malatesta men-at-arms to eat and feed their horses?’ Swan asked. ‘I’m not.’
Loredan nodded. ‘That is an excellent question. Such a good question that I’m inclined to believe you.’
‘Excellent,’ Swan said, all but fainting with relief and trying not to show it. ‘In that case, may I suggest that we see how Alessandro is faring?’
Loredan started. ‘Alessandro di Bracchio?’
Swan nodded. ‘Yes. I sent word to him to gather my men-at-arms. And sequester the Malatesta men.’ Swan rose. ‘I’ll wager silver against gold that he will have succeeded.’
Loredan pursed his lips. ‘You have wagered the security of the Venetian state.’ He rose. ‘Let’s go.’
Loredan stopped and spoke briefly to Constantine Graitzas. Waiting by the quay was a twenty-oared military gondola. The oarsmen wore the red and white livery of the state and waited patiently in the pouring rain.
In the boat, Loredan betrayed impatience for the first time. His fingers drummed against the gunwale. ‘I ordered all the stradiotes to arm themselves,’ he said.
‘I think that was wise,’ Swan said.
‘I am not actually inclined to have you patronise me,’ Loredan said.
Swan leaned forward and spoke very quietly. ‘My source – somewhat unwittingly – suggested that at least one of the Ten was—’
Loredan raised a hand sharply – an emperor giving orders.
Swan was silent.
They landed at the old pier south of the inns, where Swan had landed every time he thought he was being followed. He had time to feel a pang for the old whore who had been his watcher. He wished she were still alive – so that he would know what was waiting for him.
But under the overhang where the old whore had watched, there was someone. Swan thought it was Giovanna, but it proved to be Hugh Willoughby.
‘Will Kendal said you’d come this way,’ Willoughby said, voice full of wonder. ‘How’d he know that?’
Swan breathed a thousand sighs of relief. ‘Everything done?’ he asked.
Willoughby nodded. ‘We have the two inns under watch. Ser Columbino is getting his lads into harness. Ser Alexander is down by the church. He’s got a crossbow – a wicked mortal machine.’
Swan nodded to Loredan. ‘I’ll just—’
Loredan put a hand on Swan’s shoulder. ‘Too pat.’
‘What?’ Swan asked.
‘I’m not walking into a dark alley on your word, I’m afraid,’ Loredan said. He nodded to a pair of his armoured men. ‘Go down this alley to the square by the church of Saint Nicolas. See if you can find Messire di Bracchio. Bring him here.’ Loredan caught himself. ‘Ask him courteously to accompany you,’ he said.
Both men saluted and moved off into the dark with all the clatter and snick of men in harness.
Swan stood in the rain beside Willoughby. The Englishman looked at the ten men-at-arms who came off the gondola. ‘This all fair play, sir?’ he asked in English.
Swan shook his head. ‘These gentlemen are very, very twitchy, Hugh. Don’t do anything to let them think you mean … danger.’
‘Should I … run?’ Willoughby said. ‘They don’t have a bow among ’em.’
Swan had been thinking the very same thing. He was just considering the possibility – however faint – that Loredan was the member of the Council of Ten who was with Foscari. But that didn’t add up.
He hoped.
Then he heard the men-at-arms coming back. Or some armoured men coming at them. It was after midnight, the night was as black as new pitch, the rain
was heavy and covered most sounds – and Swan was wearing no armour.
Loredan must have had the same thought.
‘Look sharp, there,’ he said, and pulled Swan back into the cover of his small phalanx of armoured men.
But the first man out of the alley was Alessandro di Bracchio, wearing half-armour and carrying a small steel crossbow.
‘Loredan,’ he said. He gave an ironic smile that could have meant anything, and for a long moment …
… Swan thought that he had the whole thing wrong.
Alessandro shook his head. ‘It’s too damned dark,’ he said. ‘We don’t know where they are all quartered. I have Di Vecchio’s inn being watched, and Ser Columbino’s men are arming.’ He nodded at Willoughby. ‘All the Englishmen are on the roofs.’ He looked at Swan. ‘We need more men. But one thing we have done – we have all their horses.’
Loredan crossed himself. ‘In the name of the Father – you have done good work, Di Bracchio. But we are not done yet.’
Swan pushed forward. ‘We should strike as soon as Ser Columbino’s men are in harness,’ he said. ‘Speed is everything. Thirty fully armed men?’
All of them shuddered inwardly at the thought of thirty of Malatesta’s killers – and whatever other support Jacopo Foscari had – loose in the streets.
‘We must wait,’ Loredan said. ‘I am not ready.’
Swan turned, his suspicions rekindled. ‘You are not ready?’ he asked.
Loredan shook his head. ‘It is useless to take these men-at-arms if it alerts Foscari. He will run away to Crete …’ He paused.
Alessandro whistled. ‘Crete!’ he said.
Loredan nodded. ‘Exactly.’
Swan didn’t understand what they were talking about, but it was sufficient for him that Alessandro accepted Foscari’s argument.
‘So where is Foscari?’ asked Di Bracchio.
Loredan shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘I think that I do,’ said Swan. ‘Last night, someone came to Ca’ Corner, threatened to have me killed, and did something that terrified the Malatesta governess.’ He looked at Alessandro.
‘Always the governess,’ Alessandro said with a slight smile. ‘Sweet Christ, it is like a Roman election. But yes, I see it. I even see why they want to kill you.’
‘The Palazzo Corner is a fortress,’ Loredan said.
Swan was almost smug. ‘I think that I can get us in,’ he said.
Giovanna stood huddled in her only cloak in the rain. ‘These are my best shoes, and they are soaked,’ she said. ‘I don’t have platforms like a great lady.’
‘I’m sure the Most Noble Loredan will replace your shoes when we have saved the Serenissima from treason,’ Swan said pointedly, but Loredan ignored him. They had made a dozen decisions on the fly. Loredan’s men and the English archers and the first trickle of stradiotes were watching the inns. Ser Columbino’s lances were standing behind Loredan. It was Loredan who felt it might be too much to ask the former Malatesta men-at-arms to face their comrades, and Swan had qualms, too. Recruiting Columbino had been so easy – he wondered …
It was too late for most doubts.
Loredan got some signal he’d been expecting. His oarsmen were deploying from the gondola – every man had a spear, a sword and a good bishop’s mantle of chain. They were Arsenali, professional oarsmen, caulkers and carpenters by trade – hard men.
He came back to where Di Bracchio stood with Swan and Giovanna.
‘Go with God, mistress,’ he said with a grave bow.
Giovanna nodded and ran through the rain, across an alley, across the small square, and vanished into the allies behind the Corner palazzo.
‘The security of the state now depends on the wits of a whore,’ Loredan said.
‘What a stupid, arrogant thing to say.’ Di Bracchio turned. ‘A brave woman, who has more patriotism in her than many men I could name. Why typify her as a whore?’
Loredan squeezed water from his beard. ‘You are a strange man, Bembo.’
Alessandro shrugged and loosened his sword in its sheath. ‘You exiled me, Loredan. I learned many things as a penniless thug.’
Loredan looked away.
Swan walked to Ser Columbino. He had all his men-at-arms and squires together. ‘What’s this about?’ he asked. ‘I don’t even understand the sides and no one is talking to me and it is fucking wet out here.’
Swan didn’t think he could take Columbino, when the Italian was in plate armour and Swan was armed only with a side sword. But he thought – rightly or wrongly – that he’d rather have the jump now than take it in the back in the middle of a fight.
‘Malatesta is backing a group of traitors in Venice who want to seize the city and offer it to the Turks,’ Swan said. Personally, he doubted the Turkish connection had any more to it than money and influence, but it made the other side look shockingly bad. Swan kept edging away – as Columbino stepped forward to listen, Swan slipped back and to the left. ‘The men-at-arms who accompanied the boy are actually here to help the young Foscari, the Doge’s son, commit treason against his city and his father.’
‘The devil you say!’ Columbino spat with believable intensity.
‘If God works us a miracle in the next little while, we will take the traitor right here, and break the conspiracy.’ Swan watched his man as a cat watches a mousehole.
Columbino was no fool. ‘You can’t …’ He paused, breathing through his nose. ‘You suspect me.’
‘I have to,’ Swan said evenly.
Columbino’s lips made a hard line and his hand went to his sword. ‘I’m so sick of it,’ he spat. ‘Because my father was a traitor, I am always suspected!’
Swan shook his head. ‘I don’t really give a tinker’s curse for your father,’ he said. ‘You were one of Malatesta’s men-at-arms and you worked and drilled and jousted every day with Di Vecchio—’
‘I take my money from you,’ Ser Columbino said. ‘I am a Knight of Christ. I will not break my word.’
Swan weighed it all. On balance, the Siennese seemed like a man who’d rather die than confirm the truth of all the whispers. In this case, his father’s treason counted for him.
Swan allowed his own hand to fall away from his hilt. He held it out – empty. ‘Then I will take your word,’ he said.
Columbino stripped off his right gauntlet. ‘By God, Ser Tommaso, you will not regret it.’
Swan walked back to where Loredan was watching the lights in the distant palazzo. ‘You made sure of your man?’ he said. ‘It was smart – using chivalry to manipulate him. You are a very astute man, Suane.’
‘Loredan is, in fact, easy to hate,’ Di Bracchio said. ‘He runs on wheels and gears, and he thinks we do, too.’
‘Hush,’ Loredan said quietly.
An oarsman, barefoot and quick on the cobbles, ran out of the mouth of the alley and waved his spear.
‘She did it,’ Loredan breathed. He dropped his long cloak in the mucky water – straight off his shoulders. Swan was tempted to scoop it up.
Loredan turned. Behind him, Swan and Di Bracchio drew their swords, and all of Columbino’s men-at-arms took up their spears or poleaxes.
‘Gentlemen – I would promise you rich rewards,’ Loredan said, ‘but the Senate is too fickle. All I can promise you is that our side represents the rule of law and the right of free men to make their own choices, and theirs is the side of tyranny and secrecy.’ He drew his own sword and trotted off towards the mouth of the alley. The oarsmen were running along the streets on both sides, and a small boat was rowed towards the riva of the Corner palazzo.
Alessandro paused before following Loredan. ‘He makes a good speech, though,’ he said. ‘The bastard.’ Then the Venetian turned and ran into the rain-filled dark. Swan followed him.
They ran into the alley and through a beautiful stonework gate that loomed out of the darkness – it was open. They were on wet flags in a tiny courtyard – the cortile – with three storey
s of palazzo windows above them.
Swan hadn’t thought of how defensible the Venetian palaces were until he got a hand on the stone railing of the external steps. There was no entrance on the ground floor.
And two armed men were just emerging from the floor above.
Swan ran up the stairs at them because hesitation wasn’t going to win any fights. He cut immediately, while four steps lower, at the nearer man’s legs – scored, and pushed forward before the second man could make up his mind whether to fight or help his friend.
Swan’s sword flicked out, and he thrust at the second man twice – once neatly through the right bicep, intercepting his attempt to draw his sword, and the second time a killing blow to the neck.
The wounded man – now lying in his own blood on the wet steps – screamed.
Loredan killed him and Swan moved past to the door.
There was Giovanna, being held by a man with a sword at her neck, and two other men trying to get into their armour.
Swan glided through the open door. Giovanna’s eyes were wide.
‘Don’t!’ said the man behind Giovanna. Swan stepped forward.
‘Come,’ said the bravo.
Swan’s cut slammed into the top of the man’s head even as he tried to duck away behind his prisoner, and Swan caught a piece of Giovanna’s scalp, but he shoved her to the floor as she screamed and thrust twice into the bravo. He stepped on the sword he’d dropped, and stabbed the man twice more. Behind him, Loredan had killed one of the men who was arming, and the other had dropped his breastplate and was on his knees begging.
Loredan killed him with his right hand while his left was opening the door into the main part of the house.
Swan picked Giovanna up off the floor. Blood was pouring from her scalp.
‘My best clothes!’ she spat.
‘Run!’ Swan said. ‘Get out of here. Now!’
He followed Loredan into the androne, the main hall. A woman was screaming over and over again. Swan almost killed a boy – a very young boy, but he had a sword in his hand. Just in time Swan realised it was Malatesta secondo. He swept the sword aside with a rising falso and caught it with his left hand, stripping it away from the boy.
Then he parried Loredan’s cut to the boy’s head.
Tom Swan and the Siege of Belgrade: Part Three Page 5