This Rough Magic

Androcles shook his head. 'No. The rain stops short of Corfu. Any lookout will see you. You'll have to wait for nightfall.' He looked up at Benito and chuckled. 'The seas are getting heavier. Looks as if you aren't wet enough already, you might just join us soon.'

Never was Benito so glad to see landfall as in the lee of that unnamed cape. The Venetian relief force was cold, wet, and bedraggled.

And on Corfu—undetected.

* * *

The hundred and fifty men who had landed there were handpicked as good seamen, with some knowledge of Greek—easy enough, as many Venetians spent time in the Greek possessions. They were all reasonably skilled horsemen, and were all combat veterans. What they weren't . . . was too sure where they were, where the enemy was, and just where they should go. Benito blessed the fact that at least it wasn't raining here.

He went down to the water's edge to bid farewell to the merpeople. Only Androcles had come inshore. 'My thanks. We're in your debt.'

Androcles grinned, his teeth pearly in the moonlight. 'We'll keep it in mind.' He looked at the three galleys. 'What do you do with the ships now?'

Benito scowled. 'I busted my ass building them and now we'll scupper them, rather than let the Byzantines have them.'

Androcles shrugged. 'Why not put them in the sea caves? There are some along the edge of the cape. You can only get in dry at low tide. If you take the masts down you should fit them. You will have to swim out of the cave, though.'

Benito sighed. 'I'm just about dry.'

Most of the gear was off-loaded and skeleton crews of strong swimmers set out for the caves. They nudged their way forward into the darkness of the sea-hollowed limestone. 'This is where we leave you,' said Androcles. 'Corcyra is another's territory, and this is too close already.'

It was dark. They had to feel their way in, inch by inch.

'Trouble with sea caves like this, is that they cave in,' said one of Benito's companion's cheerfully. 'I went into one near Capri on my first voyage. They said it used to be a bigger one but it caved in.'

'I needed to know that,' grumbled Benito. 'Reckon we can strike a light now? We're well into this thing and we've curved away from the sea. They shouldn't be able to see it from outside, and we need to work out how to anchor safely.'

'It's as black as pitch in here. We'll need to chance it.'

Someone struck a lucifer. A lamp wick caught.

Benito looked at the five Greek fishing-boats that were in there already. And at the people on them and on the shore-ledges. There were an awful lot of arquebuses, pistols, arrows and just plain rocks all ready to come their way.

Benito was extremely glad to recognize at least one of the vessels.

'Captain Taki! Spiro! Kosti! It's me! Benito!'

* * *

It was as near to inevitable that the caveful of fishing boats should have its own taverna, with a supply of the wine that Benito recalled so well.

'Why is this stuff so vile?' He demanded, eyeing the cup of russet-colored liquid. 'And why do you all drink it?'

Spiro drew himself up in affront. 'If you don't like our kakotrigi, don't drink it! I'll relieve you of the burden.' He reached for Benito's cup. 'It is a wine of the Corfiote character, and like us, it is hard to harvest. The grape clings to the stalk like we cling to our soil.'

Benito held his cup out of reach. 'I'm paying for this round. You snatch my drink when you're paying.'

'Which will probably mean the end of the world is at hand, so you might as well drink it anyway,' said Kosti.

'You're paying? I'd have had the mavrodaphne then,' said Spiro with his wry grin. 'Kakotrigi is cheap crap. But you get used to it. Even get to like it, if you drink enough.'

And for a few cups they could have shelter for their ships, and advice on where the Hungarian troops were. It struck Benito as a bargain.

'How did you make it back? Did you have any problems?'

Taki laughed and waved his arms expansively. 'I told you I was the finest seaman around. We sailed rings around them.'

'We came back in a patch of bad weather. We nearly missed the island,' said Kosti.

'I hate to ask this. But just where the hell are we?'

Spiro rolled his eyes. 'Great sailors, these Venetians. Masters of the Mediterranean. You're about a league and a half away from Paleokastritsa. And your dangerous friend is about four leagues away. Together with his blonde with the . . .' Spiro crooked his arms in front of him.

Benito grinned. This was going to be easier than he'd thought. He looked speculatively at the Corfiote sailors. 'How are things going with Erik's private little war?'

Taki laughed shortly. 'He doesn't have to do much anymore. The peasants are killing and sabotaging whenever they get the chance. Those Hungarians can't make up their minds what to do. One day it's reprisals and the next it's being nice to peasants. But the story is they ate a child from one of the villages down south. The father