Demon Knight

To which the only possible reply was, 'Si, senor.'

Eventually protocol delivered them to the royal guests — the two queens and Sartaq, who was acting as host, liege lord of the city. When the presentation was over there would be time for only a couple of quick sentences. Toby had been agonizing over what he would say to Lisa, but even when he was bowing to the prince he had not decided.

Sartaq looked extremely pleased with himself. 'Constable!' He dropped his voice to a whisper, and spoke — surprisingly — in English. 'We leave out Scotland after all!'

'Your Highness?'

'Not wanting to hurt your feelings!' With a chuckle and a twinkle that seemed almost a wink, the Khan's son turned to the next in line.

Toby managed not to say, 'After what you did to me at Cafaggiolo you are worried about my feelings, you young idiot?'

His family was hopelessly inbred, of course, given to congenital insanity.

Now Lisa! She acknowledged Toby's bow with a nod, but her royal composure wavered as she glanced at the line behind him — looking for Hamish and not finding him.

Toby blurted out the message, still wondering if it was a cruelty in the circumstances. 'He said to tell you he will never forget.'

'Tell him…' She swallowed hard. 'Tell him to try. We shall never forget your kindness, Sir Tobias. Do you know who…?'

'No, ma'am. When I find out, I will kill him for you.'

'Kill him again for Hamish,' Lisa said bitterly.

Then he had to move on.

Queen Blanche gave him a skeletal smile. 'You tried, Constable. Whatever happens it will not be your fault.'

He mumbled some suitable reply. It would be his fault, of course. Had he wanted, he could have put Blanche and her daughter on a ship to Malta. He wondered why he had not. Could his reluctance to lose Hamish have been the whole reason?

* * *

The finale of the ceremony saw Lisa doing homage to the darughachi for England, Wales, Ireland, Aquitaine, and a few assorted other possessions of the English crown. Nevil had long since been branded traitor and declared deposed, of course, but this was the first time the Khanate had recognized a successor. The palace rang with cheers, which were undoubtedly mostly for the lovely madonna Elizabeth. No man would have received such an ovation.

So Sartaq had not been entirely joking about Scotland, although Toby was certain that whatever the reason it had been left off the list, his personal feelings had not been involved. He was not even sure who his rightful king was since Fergan had been caught and murdered. He made a mental note to ask Hamish when he returned to the villa.

'You know,' the don remarked quietly, twirling his mustache, 'Nevil is certain to hear of this. It should feel as good as fleas in his armor.'

'I'm glad I don't have to break the news to him,' Toby agreed. The only silver lining he could see in it all was that Lisa must now be under Sartaq's protection. He would be ringed with defenses against demon attacks, and he certainly would not hang around Italy if the Fiend seemed likely to overrun it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The following morning, couriers arrived with news that the Fiend's horde had been sighted in the pass. His advance scouts had come down into the plains two days after Sorghaghtani's questing, and this was duly reported a few days later in Florence. D'Anjou's grand plan was ashes already. Toby could take no joy of that. He had predicted a month. It would be April, blood on the lilacs. Had he been put in charge, he would have moved faster, but he still would not have had time to organize a united defense. The delays caused by Sartaq's meddling had made disaster inevitable. Nevil would be in Naples before the end of June.

The Chevalier summoned all the armies of Italy to muster at Piacenza, then rode north to take charge. The Fiend's forces poured into Savoy. The duke and his family fled Turin, which seemed certain to be the first target.

Next came word that a second army, even larger, was crossing the Brenner Pass and menacing Trent, the city Toby had saved the previous fall. That news made him grind his teeth in frustration, for had he been able to establish a base at Piacenza as he had wanted, he would have been able to strike at the two columns separately, before they could unite. Meanwhile he worked day and night preparing the army of Florence to ride out. The Don Ramon Company was ready, but too many of the other units were still in a state of muddle. He set the eighth as the day of departure.

On the seventh he and the don were summoned to a meeting of the dieci. Doddering old Cecco de' Carisendi, who usually gave the impression that he might have been someone of note in the silk weavers' guild early in the previous century, was that day surprisingly clear spoken and effectual. He stood erect with his nine fellow councillors at his back in the gloomy, paneled chamber, and he minced no words. There would be no march north. The army of Florence was to remain in Florence.

The don roared like an artillery barrage. Wars were not won by defense, he declared. This was cowardice, betrayal, and folly. The Fiend would like nothing better. After he had repeated everything twice, he fell silent, glaring. He had not quite threatened to take the Company north anyway, but he was obviously considering it. All eyes turned to Toby.

'Am I correct in assuming that His Highness has left the city?' He tried not to let the question sound like a sneer.

Carisendi shook his head and blinked his bleary eyes. 'No, indeed, messer. I saw the prince not an hour ago. He is preparing a… He has no plans to leave Florence yet.'

That was a surprise, if true. 'And he approves of this action?'

'That is not your concern, Constable. Under the condotta, you are bound by the directives of the dieci della guerra.'

'I am well aware of this. Why do you buy a guard dog and then chain it?'

Ten hapless burghers twitched and fidgeted; they scratched and shuffled their feet, and few of them could meet his eye. They all knew that what they were demanding was wrong. He wondered who was twisting their cords — the Magnificent? or Sartaq? or perhaps it was the Fiend himself.

'You must understand,' Carisendi bleated, 'that the forces of Rome and Naples have not yet made their way north. Florence cannot denude herself of defenders while two great armies are due to pass through Tuscany. Once they have gone by, then the matter will be reviewed. Your advice will be solicited at that time, Captain-General; yours also, of course, Constable.'

That was never. Bruno Villari had repeated loud and often that unless the College provided more spiritual protection — meaning hexers well supplied with demons — he would refuse to move his men out of sight of the city walls. Conversely, while Rome retained its potential for attack, King Fredrico would not strip Naples' defenses. Nobody was coming north.

'You can expect a large influx of refugees, Your Magnificence,' Toby said. 'I haven't heard any news today, but I imagine Trent and Turin have both burned by now. Verona will fall tomorrow or the day after. If Nevil sees no sign of organized opposition, he may even tackle Venice and Milan at the same time before—'

'I have not finished issuing you your instructions, messer. Effective immediately, you are to post guards on all gates to prevent any mass exodus.'

'So we are not your defenders? We are jailers?'

The chairman scowled. 'Certainly not. You will allow people to pass freely, but not carry away their household possessions. Trade must continue, but panic could be extremely deleterious. And henceforth you will concentrate all your energies on preparing Florence to withstand a siege.'