This Rough Magic

Benito compressed his lips. 'We're not going to miss. Not if I have to ride those little ships all the way in myself. Call it Umberto's legacy. The Little Arsenal has about fifteen longboats. The Byzantines would either have to up anchor and out oars in the dark, or, with the light galleys beached at Vidos, launch. It's the better part of a mile . . . but with a start and twelve rowers we should do it.'

'What are you suggesting, Benito?'

'We lower longboats. Give each team two fireboats to tow out. The enemy are going to be focused on Vidos. We should be able to get really close—they're firing and the muzzle-flash will be easy to see. Set the fireboats on their line, leave one man to each, have him jump overboard at the last moment. With luck, the longboats will recover the aimers.'

'Why does someone need to stay with each fireboat?'

'Because they don't have steerage if they aren't moving quite fast.' He saw the puzzled look on Manfred's face. 'Just take it from me or Erik. That's how it works, Manfred.'

Manfred looked at him with a strange expression. 'You'll need men who are tired of life, Benito. The longboats won't be able to hang about looking for anyone.'

'Manfred, we're starving. We're down to four cupfuls of water a day per man. You don't have to be tired of life to volunteer for this—you have to want, desperately, to live.' He shook his head. 'The people down at the Little Arsenal are furious about Umberto's murder. They're tired of being powerless to do anything. A lot of them— especially the caulkers—swim like fish. The caulkers have to, for when there's a sprung plank. There's only so much you can do to repair a ship from the inside, and if the ship's on the water it means diving with a rope around your waist and some wadding. I'll get volunteers all right.' He sighed. 'I'll get too many.'

* * *

'You know I will not assist in the war of one Christian soldier against another,' said Eneko Lopez. 'Regardless of what vileness Emeric delves into or what Chernobog does, most of Emeric's troops and the Byzantine soldiers are of our faith.'

Benito held up his hands pacifyingly. 'I'm not proposing you do anything that kills anyone, Eneko. All I was hoping for was some way to save good men from drowning in the darkness. Like the glowing winged Lion on the sails of the great galleys.'

Eneko Lopez looked at him with those penetrating eyes, and apparently decided in Benito's favor. 'Tell me what you are planning. I suppose I should be grateful that a fiendish mind like yours is on the side opposing Chernobog and the Devil-worshipers.'

Benito told him. Eneko Lopez shook his head. 'And you have thirty men prepared to do this?'

'I think at last count even places on the longboats were double-subscribed.' Benito looked at Eneko consideringly. 'You know, Father Lopez—everybody always lectures or preaches to me. Antimo said it was my face. Now I'm going to do the same for you, seeing as you've also done it to me.' He grinned wryly. 'Fair's fair, after all. You priests, Justices—even princes—seem to think you have the monopoly on a sense of justice. It isn't like that at all. I promise you the scuolo, the boat-people, hell, even thieves, have a sense of justice. Of what is right. It may not always be what the priests and others think is right, but they believe in it. And they're prepared to pay a high price for what they believe in. The Arsenalotti are angry and frustrated about this siege, and about the murder. Umberto was a quiet fellow, but he was theirs. He'd stood by them, he'd bled for them. Maria too. The Corfiotes think more of her than they do of the governor, for instance. They're bitter about her loss. She's even won over the Illyrians. I've got men who can't swim volunteering. I had four times what I wanted for the fireboats. Now, are you going to help me keep these men alive or are you going to get sanctimonious with me?'

Eneko Lopez looked at him in silence. Then he drew a deep breath. 'I stand humbled. You know, those of us who fight the battle for the human spirit do so because we believe in its potential. We are, after all, made in the image of God. But sometimes we spend so much time isolated and only dealing with the bad that we forget. Yes. Some luminescence can be magically contained in small bottles. It is not without cost, but I suppose if you fail and the Citadel falls . . . evil will have its day unchecked.'

'I'll take the bottles with gratitude,' said Benito. 'But as for 'unchecked,' Eneko, short of clearing Corfu of people, Emeric is just going to meet unending resistance, whether we're here or not. Erik sowed the wind out there. Emeric is reaping the whirlwind.'

* * *

The wind was to the southeast, blowing dust from Corfu's once green fields across the Citadel. 'It's not natural,' grumbled one of the Corfiotes. 'It should be blowing northwesterly.'

'And it should be raining, too,' said his friend with a dry smile. 'And then we could row twice as far and get wet from above with fresh water and below with salt. Stop complaining, Dimitros.'

His companion continued blackening his face. 'I need something to keep my mind busy. This is crazy!'

'Have your tot of grappa, and let's get on with it.'

One by one, the small boats were lowered into the sea. In tense silence now, the little flotilla began running out toward the muzzle flashes around Vidos. The inner keep had no large cannon. The Byzantine vessels were perfectly safe.

But some good admiral had still deployed a couple of small galliots to patrol. Benito thought his heart would stop when one of them loomed up through the darkness.

'What ships?' called the watchman on the prow.

'Tell them we're some Greek name, we've sprung a leak and we're taking water,' whispered Benito. 'And then we row like hell. We have to board them.'

Obviously, at least five of the longboats had had the same idea. The small galliot was a twenty-oar vessel— but she was quartering the wind and the oars were shipped. Abandoning all stealth the longboats closed fast.

Shots rang out . . . and then they were on board, desperate Venetians and Corfiotes, outnumbering the crew, boarding from several vessels. The silence they'd hoped for was a lost dream. Now all they could do was move fast.

Benito had volunteered for the fireboats. The scuolo liked him too much to tell him he was an inexperienced amateur seaman. Besides, he was lucky. And crazy. They needed that, too.