volunteer. I owe you and Erik my life. I was not sure if I was grateful at the time. But I have decided I am glad to be alive after all.'
'I wish you'd call me Benito. Everyone else does.'
'She insists on calling me 'master,' ' said Giuliano. 'No matter how often I have said that we're comrades- in-arms now. And of course, yes. I am with you too. I owe him my sanity, my life, and it was my blood-kin that betrayed him.'
'The bad news is that I won't take either of you. You've got to take over here, Giuliano. Recruit to replace what we've lost. And you, Thalia, you've got keep him tough. He's too nice for this. But he is also too valuable to waste. He's a good man.'
'I know,' she said quietly. 'You and Erik saved my life. But he gave me back myself. My dignity.'
'I'm an olive-grower,' said Giuliano irritably. 'Not a saint or a soldier.'
'You're also the best man for the job. And as Doge Dorma was silly enough to invest me as a captain in the army of the Republic, I hereby give you a field-brevet to lieutenant. I'd do more, but as a captain I am limited to promoting you to below me. And I wish the two of you would stop wasting time and get a priest to marry you, as I don't think either of you will settle for anything less.'
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Thalia looked down and wrung her hands. 'It is too soon. Master Lozza will mourn his wife and child. I will mourn my man. Someday he will marry someone from his own order.'
Giuliano looked Benito in the eyes. 'I'll thank you to keep to your own business, Benito. Thalia . . . and I, both lost precious people.'
Benito shrugged. 'You both also nearly died tonight. And I'm not blind or stupid. This is a war. You could both still be killed while you fuss on about not hurting the other one's feelings. I don't think either of you didn't love your spouses. I just think you're hurting each other now. As for this difference in rank: Worry about it if you're still alive at the end of the war.'
Giuliano put a hand gently onto Thalia's arm. 'I don't wish to hurt you, Thalia. You were hurt enough.'
'You are hurting me now,' she said with a sniff. 'You . . . all the other men in the camp. They make suggestions. Passes. You just taught me to fight. They mock you, too. They are scared to do so in the open because of your swordsmanship, master.'
'If I married you, would you stop calling me master?'
She gave a watery sniff. 'You don't want to do that.'
'Actually, in among the ten thousand other things Erik's injury has forced on us, I want to do
'Would you two, hug, kiss, and get on with it,' grumbled Benito. 'I've got a crazy plan to go through with, and I need to find a wagon and something to hide the wounded in. And I've got some bodies and prisoners to strip, and some blacking to clean off the breastplates.'
'Is that an order, sir?' asked Giuliano, putting his hands on her shoulders.
'Yes. And you, too, newly promoted sergeant. It is about time we had a few female sergeants. They're naturally good at telling men what to do.'
'Yes, sir,' said Giuliano, putting his arms around her. She folded into them as naturally as breathing. 'You're good at managing people's lives, Benito.'
'Yes. I wish I'd been as good at managing my own. Now, do you think anyone in that crowd speaks Hungarian?
Chapter 86
Late the next afternoon a wagon, escorted by a mounted patrol of Magyar, joined a number of other wagons heading into the camp. Erik's raids had forced Emeric's troops to dig earthworks and station guards, but a wagon with a Magyar driver and a military escort excited no comment. It didn't even get stopped. Benito reflected that Erik had missed some wonderful opportunities.
Benito put his earlier time within the Citadel to good use. He'd stood on the inner battlements making sure he'd get through the ruins of the town and the maze of tent-areas belonging to the different units of Emeric's army. Eberhard of Brunswick had stood up there with him while he watched, and had explained the interactions between the various tribes and nationalities in Emeric's kingdom. To the old statesman, those were potential danger areas of misunderstanding to be avoided.
To Benito they were something to be used. The Magyar, the elite of the army, Emeric's pets, weren't very popular, according to Eberhard. If you had to choose for least love lost between two groups, the levies from southern Carpathia detested the Magyars most. The Slovenes came a close second. And in the watching of detachments moving to and fro to the front, Benito knew where these two groups were encamped. They were on the southern end of the Spianada, behind a half-screen of buildings that the officers of both sets used for slightly more comfortable quarters—just out of cannon-shot. There was an open patch that both sets of troops used as a parade ground.
Benito took his set of 'Magyar' there with the wagon and parked it on the edge of the parade ground. His men dismounted. Some played dice. Some just lounged against the wagon. It was covered with a tightly tied-down tarpaulin. Benito hoped the poor devils inside weren't roasting as the afternoon sun blazed down.
Nobody came over and talked to them, except for one Slovene officer. Benito didn't understand a word. However he could offer a pretty good guess.
Stephanos, with his few words of Hungarian, was posing as the group officer. Stephanos snapped one word—'orders'—with as much arrogance as he could muster and jerked his thumb at the ornate pavilion on the hill. Benito thought he could have done a better job, but then he had to give Stephanos credit for looking the part. The man had been a taverna owner at the start of the war. In younger days, however, he had spent some years in Rugosa as a clerk, working for a Venetian buyer—who couldn't operate there, and had needed a trusted man.
