This Rough Magic

the kitchen. Then, crept quietly up the stairs. She stopped and checked on Alessia, and slid into bed next to Umberto.

But sleep was a long time coming.

 

Chapter 43

Out on the sea in the darkness, Benito was getting a first-hand lesson in the difference between paying a gondolier to transport you, or telling sailors where you wanted to go, and rowing yourself.

The first pointed difference was that you actually had to paddle. He was a lot less experienced than Erik, and the coracle was round, which meant they were spending a lot of time spinning slowly. The second difference was that in his previous experience Benito had simply told those in control of the boat his destination, and made finding it their problem. Now it was his and Erik's problem.

The rain obscured them from enemy watchers, which was a good thing. The trouble was it obscured everything, including possible landmarks.

At this rate, thought Benito, we might just end up in Albania after all.

And they hadn't guessed about the wind or the current or even the chop on the water either. They might just end up swimming to Albania . . . if they didn't end up swimming round and round in circles.

'I think we're going south,' whispered Erik.

'I thought we planning on going north?'

Erik grunted. 'In this thing we just go where the sea takes us. Bail for a bit.'

So Benito bailed; it made more sense than having him try to paddle. It seemed the sea outside the coracle was keen to get into it as fast as possible. It came aboard in enthusiastic splashes that soon had Benito wet to the skin. Here he was, cheek-by-jowl in a giant bowl with Erik Hakkonsen, and he might as well have been alone on the water. Erik was as silent as a dead man, he couldn't see anything, and Benito was so cold he couldn't feel anything either.

The whisper came out of the dark again, at his ear, and he jumped. 'There's a headland, I think. Help me paddle.'

Gradually the headland loomed up out of the rain. Benito's feet were now ankle-deep in the water in the bottom of the coracle.

It proved to be an islet. They hauled up on it anyway. But they could vaguely make out a white building off across the water. 'I think this must be Mouse Islet,' said Benito quietly. 'We could see it from the wall. There are some buildings on it.'

'Dawn can't be that far off, Benito. Is that building we can see over there another island?'

'No. It's a monastery, I think. Just off the mainland jutting into the sea. We could go there, but there's a big inlet ahead. If we go ashore here, we'll be forced to go virtually back into Kerkira.'

Erik sighed. 'We'll be forced back into this bedamned tub instead, then. Come on. Let's get on with it.'

* * *

They did. But it became rapidly obvious that the coracle had suffered during the landing on Mouse Islet. The water was calm here, but Benito had to keep bailing. By the time they got within sight of the further shore, it was a race between water coming in and the bailing and paddling. Of course, the more water there was in the vessel the heavier it was to row, and the slower they went, too. Benito started preparing himself to swim.

It proved unnecessary. Just.

Mind you, Benito thought, my clothes are so wet by now that I can't really get any wetter. Despite the exercise, Benito was shivering almost uncontrollably. At least the rain had stopped, but there was still a cold wind blowing.

'I don't think it is worth hiding that . . . bathtub,' said Erik. 'We won't be using it to get back, so we might as well just get away from here.'

The darkness was still thick as they blundered off into it. Even Benito, used to 'seeing' his way around by feel in the darkness of Venice's nighttime rooftops, found the going difficult. Man-made structures had the decency to be at predictable angles! Then his nose picked up something. A hint of wood-smoke.

'There's a fire ahead,' whispered Benito.

Erik snorted. 'I know. I've been trying to stalk it, with something stumbling along just behind me that makes more noise than a pair of bull-seals having a territory fight in the middle of a Venetian glass-shop. If it's local peasants, we need to ask them some directions. And if it's Hungarian soldiers, we need to avoid them if we can.'

Benito shivered. 'Right now I'd be happy to go and ask them if I could borrow their fire for a bit.'

'Well, come along. But try to keep it quiet! If it is soldiery, we are staying out of a fight. You're too keen on fighting.'

But when they got closer, and Erik worked out just what the two Croats were doing, it was he, not Benito, who rushed in to the kill. The two Croats weren't well positioned to resist.

By the time Benito got there with his Shetlander dagger in hand, Erik was already kneeling next to the woman, untying her; and a moment later, he was undoing the gag.

Her first response was to scream.

'Hush!' hissed Erik.

He might as well have tried to stop a storm with his hands. She had a proper breath now for the next hysterical scream. It was understandable. Besides being raped, she was covered in her erstwhile rapist's blood.