Caesare Aldanto walked past the man who had been crucified upside-down outside King Emeric's tent as if he wasn't there.
Emeric was sprawled in his gilded and gemstone-encrusted throne. Aldanto bowed mechanically. 'You wished to see me?'
Emeric stared at the blond man. He stood up, and put his hands on Aldanto's throat. 'You interfered with the admiral of my carracks and sent them north in pursuit of four vessels. You interfered and used my name to direct the Dalmatians in an attack on the same vessels. We lost a number of the galliots. According to my admiral you have only captured one of the Venetian vessels. Why should I allow you to live?'
Emeric allowed the pain to flow from his hands into his intended victim. But Caesare Aldanto didn't scream and writhe. He didn't even blink. He answered in the same calm voice that he'd used earlier.
'Because I had credible information that they were coming to the relief of Corfu. The ships had Knights of the Holy Trinity on board, including, according to our captives, Prince Manfred of Brittany. I considered that you would wish them sunk rather than at large on Corfu. There were also a number of powerful and dangerous magicians on board. We were not aware of that. That is why three of the ships escaped.'
Emeric was somewhat shaken by the lack of response from the blond Milanese man; it took him aback, and left him thinking madly down directions he had rather not have gone. There could be little doubt now—Aldanto was indeed a puppet-man. He stepped back. Always before, he'd known his power stood between him and any threat of a knife-wielding assassin. With this man . . . he was potentially in his enemy's grasp. He had no doubt at all that Grand Duke Jagiellon was indeed his enemy, even if their purposes ran in the same direction for now.
Or could this be a trap?
Then logic reasserted itself. Jagiellon's man would hardly have risked his position and Emeric's displeasure if Jagiellon did not desperately wish the Knights to be sunk at sea.
'I was not told about the prisoners,' said Emeric, moderating his tone by a degree or two. 'Why have they not been brought to me?'
Aldanto shrugged. 'Ask your admiral. But in truth only a handful of seamen were captured. The captain elected to remain with his vessel and blow her magazine up when she was boarded. The captives were taken from one of her small boats. The charges failed to sink her, but there were considerable losses among our boarders.'
PART VI
'It strikes me very much as a conspiracy,' said Eberhard. 'I agree with your assessment, Francesca, but of course it is still likely to place us in very bad favor with the governor—the podesta, as they call him—and the captain-general, if and when the messages get through.'
Manfred shrugged. 'What they don't know, their hearts won't grieve over. Besides, Francesca has already cleared it with the governor.'
Francesca looked innocent. Too innocent, Benito thought. 'He's an old dear, but quite ineffectual. The conduct of war or siege is officially the military's business. However, I did ask him if the prince might be allowed to send messages to the Emperor. He said it was hardly something he could refuse permission for, but that it was of course impossible at the moment. I smiled and thanked him.'
'Well, I suppose if the messenger happened to go via Venice, you could hardly blame him for telling the authorities about the situation here,' said Eberhard with a perfectly straight face. 'How are your preparations going, by the way?'
Manfred grimaced a little. 'Well, the early morning detail guarding the outer wall was easy enough to organize. Our men are tired but still wish to do their part in the defense of the Citadel. The boat . . . well, that's the reason I suggested to Francesca we might have to go to the captain-general. I've tried to find one to buy, without making a great to-do about it. But this isn't Venice, you know. Most of the boats in the Citadel belong to the shipyard. Of course there were lots of fishing boats out in the town. But they're rather far out of reach.'
Francesca tilted her head to the side. 'And I said, you and Benito should perhaps go and talk to Maria and her husband.'
Benito shook his head. 'Maria would give us a shipyard vessel in the blink of an eye. But Umberto—well, he's a good fellow, but he's a rules and regulations sort of man.'
'He might still know someone with a boat to sell.' She looked consideringly at Erik and Benito. 'I think we need to think about your appearances, also. You can't go like that.'
Benito caught on immediately. 'I look as if I could possibly be a local. But Erik wouldn't pass in the dark. We'll need hair dye and old clothes.'
'Something to stain Erik's skin too,' said Francesca, looking pointedly at both hair and skin.
'I'm not planning to go passing as a local,' said Erik, a little stiffly. 'I'll stick to the hills and forest patches. These Hungarians won't even see me. I might blacken my face for the night-work. . . .'
Francesca smiled. 'She'll still love you even if you're dark-haired, Erik. And never mind the Hungarians. It's the locals who will run from a blond-haired man, and you will need them if you are to find her, I suspect. We've got a map of how to get to Count Dentico's villa, but they might easily have moved out. You'll have to get directions from the locals. It won't help that you can't speak Greek and will frighten every local silly.'
Erik shook his head. 'How do you cope with her always being right, Manfred? I have a little classical Greek, but the language has changed.'
