and tossed him one. The Greek caught it and grinned.
‘Glad I shared my chicken with you,’ he said. He ran his hands over the man. Pinned to the inside of the man’s coat was a lead badge, such as pilgrims wore. He took that. He also took the man’s crossbow and his bolts.
They rode down to the column carefully, Swan with the crossbowman across his saddle. The count rode out to meet them.
‘Who . . . what do you have there?’ He looked angry. ‘Another of the lice?’
Alessandro was riding towards them, his galloping horse throwing up dust. Swan wondered why he was in such a hurry.
Two of the count’s archers had the unconscious man.
Giannis bowed. ‘My lord, he shot at us with his weapon, and my young friend here was too foolish to let him get away.’
The count glanced at Swan, and Swan didn’t like his look.
Alessandro arrived. ‘Is that a prisoner?’ he asked.
Giannis nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’
The count shrugged. ‘I’ll hang him. I have the right.’
‘Let me question him first,’ Alessandro said. ‘My lord count?’
‘Why?’ asked the count. ‘Scum like this will say anything. Best rid the world of him and send him to hell.’ He made a motion with his hand, and one of the archers drew a knife.
‘I would very much like to question him, my lord—’ Alessandro said, but the man was beyond questioning.
Alessandro glared at the French knight. ‘I thought you intended to hang him?’
Swan gave his horse a little knee and turned in between the knight and the Italian man-at-arms. ‘Messires, I feel I should be back at my duty. Do you have any further orders?’
The count shook his head.
Swan rode away, all but towing Alessandro. The Italian was angry.
‘He did that on purpose,’ he said.
Swan shrugged. When they were out of sight of the count, he handed over the pilgrim badge.
Alessandro let out a sigh of pure frustration. ‘When I saw it, I thought it might be a livery badge,’ he said.
‘I don’t think of brigands as the kind of men who go on pilgrimages,’ Swan said.
Giannis handed his boss the crossbow. ‘A fine weapon,’ he said. ‘Well kept.’
Swan looked down at the column, just coming into sight below them as they climbed. ‘Does the cardinal have . . . an enemy?’
‘In Rome? Yes. Here?’ Alessandro shook his head.
Giannis looked at his
Swan reined in. ‘You have years of experience. But if it was up to me, I’d guess that the count means the cardinal harm.’ He looked down the column. ‘Or one of these other gentlemen.’
Alessandro nodded. ‘An interesting thought. One, perhaps, you should not share.’ Alessandro looked at Giannis, who shrugged expressively, despite his breast and backplate. He managed to convey, in a single shrug, that he was interested in the subject, but would not discuss it.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident, and Swan was tired and covered in dust when he returned to the convoy at sunset. They were rolling into the courtyard of an inn.
Peter took his horse, wincing as he reached up for the bridle.
‘You should take more time,’ Swan said.
Peter wagged his head back and forth. ‘I’m bored. Pain is pain. Listen – master – I opened the purses.’
Swan looked around. He wasn’t comfortable discussing it.
‘Well – there’s a charge for straw and another for wash water. I thought as—’ The Fleming raised an eyebrow.
‘Tell me,’ said Swan.
‘I won’t say as we’re rich. But if you kill one bandit a day and take his purse, we’ll be able to keep eating.’ Peter shrugged.
Swan winced. He reached into his shirt and came up with the silver ecu.
Peter took it and bit it. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘You have some useful skills, for a gentleman.’ Peter said ‘ooseful skils’. Otherwise, his English was near perfect.
Swan dismounted and curried the horse with Peter. While they were working, Giannis came out and got to work on his own horse.
‘Giannis, this is my man, Peter,’ Swan said.
Giannis grinned. ‘Sure,’ he said.
When the horses were curried and fed, Giannis unrolled his cloak. ‘I want to keep the crossbow,’ he said. He handed Swan a dark red leather belt with a red leather purse. It had nice buckles and a pair of cast decorations to weight the rain cover. It wasn’t fine like a nobleman’s purse, but it was good work. It also had a good, heavy knife – German work – with an eating knife and a pricker in the scabbard.
‘There’s his belt,’ Giannis said. ‘That’s a fine knife – I throw in the purse, as’ – he smiled his gap-toothed smile – ‘as you don’t seem to have a purse.’
Swan looked at Peter. Peter walked over and lifted the crossbow.
‘That’s a nice piece,’ he said. The goat’s-foot lever was built into the stock. He ratcheted it back with an effort and a grunt of pain. ‘That cost—’ He looked at Swan. ‘Who was this man? That’s a fine knife. The crossbow and the knife are both Low German. I know the maker’s mark on that knife. He sells in Antwerp. It’s not the gear a brigand would have.’
‘He might if he just killed someone for it,’ Swan said.
‘You haf never been a brigand, haf you?’ Peter said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Swan translated into Italian for Giannis.
Giannis nodded. ‘He’s no fool, this man of yours,’ he said.
‘He owes you on this deal, even with the knife,’ Peter said.
Swan turned on Giannis. ‘My man says you’re trying to cheat me,’ he said.
Giannis shrugged. ‘Cheat is a harsh word,’ he said, smiling. ‘You are a rich boy. I am a poor man-at-arms. What will you do with the crossbow – hunt killer sparrows?’ He shrugged. ‘Listen – you did the work. I admit it. But I can’t afford even half this machine. I just want it.’
Swan looked at Peter. ‘He wants it. He admits it’s worth more.’
‘Get him to buy our wine tonight and call it a deal,’ Peter said.
‘Listen,’ Swan said to Giannis. ‘I’m as poor as a slave right now. Buy our wine tonight at dinner, and I’ll take the dagger and purse and we’re even.’
Giannis offered his hand and they shook.
In the common room of the tavern, Swan sat on a trestle with his back against Peter’s and worked on the belt. The lawyers came in and waved, and he waved back, but they were forced by the flow of patrons to sit near the fire.
He had to ask around to get a needle, heavy thread, some resin and some wax – but as he expected, a tavern was the place to buy all these small necessities, and for the first time in his life, he had cash, and a purse in which to put it. He tried not to keep drawing the heavy hunting knife and fondling it, but in truth, it was the finest thing he’d ever owned.
Killing people and taking their goods was looking better and better.
Alessandro came and stood over him while he cut off part of the belt, stripped its tip of some white metal and used the anvil in the barn to reset the rivets. Then he resewed the edge of the belt. Alessandro spent most of the time talking to Giannis, but when Swan returned from the barn a second time, he turned.
‘You seem to know your way around a needle,’ he said.
Swan shrugged. ‘My master-at-arms said a gentleman who couldn’t sew was going to be very unhappy on campaign. When I was a royal page—’
Alessandro shook his head. ‘Don’t claim you were a royal page.’
