Burdens of the Dead: Chapter Twenty Two

Corfu

    The Venetian fleet sailed on the first day of November. Not a good season for sailing, but Benito had his weather information. All he had to do was persuade the nervous sailors, and particularly the ship’s officers, that he was right. The sailors…well, word had got around that he had help. The sailors of Venice had a rather ambivalent relationship with the mer-people. There was a fair amount of fear. But a grudging respect too. There were stories of those who been helped, or struck deals or friendships with the dwellers in the deeps. There were a few interesting sexual fantasies too. At least, Benito hoped they were fantasies. You never could tell with the nonhumans.

    The sea was cold, wet, and tossed with small whitecaps. But there were, so far, no winter storms.

    Still Benito was grateful to see Pantocrator looming on the horizon. At the same time it cut him to the quick to know that Maria and ‘Lessi were not there, waiting in a world that had become his.

    Neither was the other thing he had been hoping for: word out of the lands of the Golden Horde. “Your kinsman send word that Prince Manfred and Erik arrived safely, and left under a Mongol escort. With the envoy flags a-flying,” said Guiliano Lozza. “But nothing has come back out.”

    Benito swore colorfully. Lozza shook his head. “It’s consorting with sailors, Benito. Now, a man dealing with olives and grapes has to learn to moderate his tongue. By the way, I was told by my dear wife to give you this invitation to come and dine with us, to celebrate our harvest. She wrote it herself,” he said proudly, handing Benito a small roll of parchment.

    Thalia had been illiterate, a peasant woman, and had felt her station precluded her marriage to the swordsman landowner. So she was taking steps, was she? Well and good. Being able to read and write broke a lot of other chains. He’d seen it with Maria. One day, perhaps, all children could be taught.

    He unrolled the parchment. The care — and a slight unsteadiness still in one or two of the letters shone out of the script — a simply worded invitation in a childlike round hand. With the seal of the house Lozza and two thin strands of silk in the colors of the tassels on Benito’s sword scabbard. The colors of Ferrara.

    “Thank you,” said Benito, looking at the script again. “I will be there. And I will treasure this,” he said, touching the invitation.

    “And so you should, “said Lozza gruffly. “She only did it fifteen times.”

    “You must be proud.”

    “More than you can imagine, my friend. And more than grateful to you for pushing us to take that last step.” He paused. “We’ll name that first boy for you. And we have reason to believe,” he said, beaming, “that that may happen as soon as the springtime.”

    Benito clapped him on the shoulder. And then embraced him. Lozza had been scarred by the murder of his wife and babe. Thalia had started the healing process. This, he hoped, would continue it. Some men are naturally suited to leadership and deeds of war. Guiliano Lozza was naturally suited to growing olives, and raising children. He also happened to be good at leading men and using a sword, but those skills were irrelevant asides so far as he was concerned.

    “You do realize that my name may lead him into trouble and fighting?” said Benito, grinning and flattered.

    Guiliano nodded and tried — and failed — to assume a serious expression. “Ah, but not as badly as the second boy. It will be hard for a good Corfiote boy to be called Erik. We will see you tonight, then M’Lord.”

    That left Benito several hours at his desk to try and catch up on the work that had accumulated in his absence, and to wonder about the message in those threads of silk. It was not the expected place or a suspected place. Therefore…

    He was hardly surprised that evening to be taken to the family chapel to meet a non-descript monk praying there. A man who had a passing resemblance to the House of Ferrara’s chief agent, Antimo Bartelozzi. The one who dealt with Family matters. “Convey my respects to Duke Enrico. I thought it would create undue suspicion to meet both him and you. I had heard you speak of Lozza, and I knew his father well. I have news from Constantinople.”

    Antimo had more than news. He had a detailed report to send to Duke Enrico. Reports of troop numbers, of supplies, of amounts of gunpowder, and maps. Detailed measured maps. Most of the maps Benito had seen were little more than drawings from memory. These had been done to scale with a great deal of precision. Looking at them, Benito understood just how his Grandfather had acquired such a towering reputation for strategy. Good staff work was obviously a major part of it. There was also a sealed package. “For the duke’s eyes only, M’Lord Valdosta,” he said apologetically. “Money matters. And contacts. If you would pass on to the duke that I shall shortly be returning to Constantinople, overland. I will attempt to be outside the walls when you arrive.” He coughed—more clearing his throat than anything else. “M’Lord…” there was an odd tentativeness to his voice. “I have reason to believe you’ll…um, have a lot of influence with both the soldiery and the sailors. A sack is always a grim thing. I…I have a request to make. If you could advise…tell the troops there is a woman in the city, always accompanied by two large hunting dogs with red ears. She’s been of help to us. To me.”

    “There are lots of women in every city,” said Benito gently, thinking he understood, and being a little surprised. “I’d get her out, Antimo. Troops…well, they get out of hand.”

    “There are no other women who always have those two dogs with them. I tried to get her to leave, M’Lord. She’s…strange. She’s no leman of mine,” he said hastily. “Just a very strange woman, with very strange dogs. Her name is Hekate.”

    Benito sat with his grandfather and then, once he was seated, and armed with a glass of wine, handed over the parcel from the duke’s spy. Considering just what the agent had told him, he was intensely curious about that flat little parcel.

    The Old Fox raised his eyebrows. “Antimo. Well, well.”

    “He was afraid you’d be watched.”

    “That’s not stopped him in the past,” said Duke Enrico, looking just like a wary fox for a moment. “He is…unusually good. He nearly killed me once, you know.”

    “You’ve mentioned that.” Normally Benito would have pressed for the story. He’d yet to get it out of his grandfather, but they had become closer with time spent together during the voyage and in Venice. “What’s in the parcel? He gave me a detailed report of the situation in Constantinople and of the areas of Byzantium he crossed, and quite a few exceptional maps of the city and its surrounds.”

    The Old Fox smiled. “You don’t even want me to keep a few secrets, boy?”

    “No. My curiosity has been killing me for half the night. He was out at Lozza’s estate.”

    The duke laughed and opened the packet. It appeared to be nothing more than a tangle of string. The duke shook it out carefully. It now appeared to be a shawl of knotted strings, all hanging down from a single cord. “Now you know. And not a bit of use feeling it through the covering has been to you, young man. Usually he attaches it to a carpet.”

    “A code in string?”

    “The knots are numbers. It’ll take me a while to read it, but they correspond to letters, and the letters give us the names of the mercenaries within Constantinople we have reached an accommodation with.”

    “And?”

    His grandfather scowled. “And the amounts of course.”

    “Ah. Cheaper than a long campaign though.”

    “So, where is Antimo? I’d have preferred to talk this through with him.”

    “He said he was going back. He would see us there, hopefully outside the walls.” Benito hesitated for a moment. “I think he’s involved with some woman there.”

    “Antimo?” Enrico was plainly surprised and intrigued…and perhaps a little perturbed. “It would be the first time I’ve seen any signs of it. He pays more attention to dogs than to women.”

    Benito shrugged. “This woman, it appears, has the dogs. Two of them with red ears. The only other thing I know about her is that her name is Hekate, and he’s worried about her. Now, I’d better finish this wine and go and chase a few people down at the little Arsenal. They may not really believe we plan to sail within the week.”

    “They’ll change their minds about that. After you have done, come back. I’ll have had time to interpret this, and to look at the maps.”

    “He is an exceptional map-maker,” said Benito, mildly envious.

    The Old Fox nodded. “And an exemplary agent. He seldom fails. But he could not find you for some time.”

    “That may have been more luck than judgment,” said Benito.

    “Or divine intervention,” said the Old Fox, smiling wryly.

    Benito and the fleet were able to sail, much to the shock and surprise both of the people of Corfu, and the ship-crews, two days later, to meet the fleet of Genoa and a token five ships from Aragon, sailing for Corfu.

    He had had news from the tritons of a huge storm.

Venice

    The addition into his household of a lively inquisitive toddler, was a not-unmixed joy, Marco found. It was true, that she had an infectious laugh and craved being cuddled, it was true she was not what you would call anything like “naughty.” She was tender-hearted to a fault, and had cried so much over a dead bird found on the balcony that they now let her feed the birds from there. Her giggles rang through the halls, and made even the grimmest servant smile.

    As for Kat, well, Kat adored the child. And at first it had been hard to get her to part from the little girl. But now that she had settled in, well, her presence was also not an unmixed blessing. ‘Lessi liked being with him most, Kat second most, and if possible, both of them. She was often found glued to their sides. Yet she was perfectly capable of vanishing the minute he turned his head.

    And she was into everything. “Like a monkey,” one of the servants had sighed, and Marco was inclined to agree. She could not see a drawer or a cupboard without wanting to open it, and if possible, play with what was inside. How she managed to do that, as little as she was — at least once, he’d found that she had patiently pulled out all the (now emptied) drawers beneath the one that was out of reach, and used them as a sort of staircase to get to the one they had fondly thought was safe. He was strongly considering finding a way to tie drawers and cupboards shut. As much of a nuisance as it would be if someone wanted something, the consequences of her getting hold of something that could harm her were not to be thought about.

    And everything went into her mouth, which was the other problem with her constant rummaging. Books too! So far she hadn’t actually ruined anything but there were a few leather-bound volumes that now had gummy corners.

    Then there were mornings. Ah yes, the mornings. She got up very early and her idea of a good time was to slip out of her nursery and creep into their bed. Squirm in between them, and giggle. And wiggle. And twist and turn and pat her hands on them and sing to herself. And her little feet were never still. She was as restless a child as her father was as an adult.

    It was hard to grasp just how the addition of one very small person could add so much extra effort to life at the Casa Montescue, but certainly the servants seemed to have twice as much work now, and he and Kat half as much time.

    And yet…and yet… No one could bring themselves to actually complain, not when she would come up to you and tug at your sleeve and when you looked down at her, she would put up her arms and lisp, “Tiss?” She was very good at bringing all of them — from Lodovico to the scullery maids, around her very small thumb.

    But something had to be done, and Marco knew it. Rescue came at last from an unexpected quarter. Marco had forgotten the priest from Cannaregio, and his promise to look for some form of genteel employment for the woman who had lost her daughter. When Old Pietro came to his study — where Alessia was attempting to open drawers, many of which had surgical implements in them — and told him Father Gotaro begged for an audience, and had a woman accompanying him, he felt very guilty indeed.

    ‘Lessi of course did not let him go alone. They went to the small drawing room off the main hall, where Pietro had put the visitors to wait — It was raining outside, he could scarcely have left them on the step, he later explained. Marco set his niece down, opened the door and she toddled in.

    The priest bowed…but not the woman. The woman instead squatted down, ignoring Marco, her face transformed, tortured lines eased — hands outstretched to Alessia — who, being the child she was, trotted cheerfully up to her.

    “Ah. M’Lord.” The priest bowed again. “What a lovely child. I just wanted to press the matter,” he jerked his head slightly at the woman entranced with Alessia. She was smiling, looking like a different person. “It…does her so much good to be with the little ones. She’s hard to get to eat properly. But local mothers…” he shrugged. “I suppose they blame her.”

    Marco could understand that, even if it wasn’t logical. He could also understand just how easily a toddler could disappear into the canal. Of course not here in the Casa Montescue — the door-handles were out of reach, and there were servants about to find and watch. But…

    And that was when he put two and two together and realized that this was the answer to both problems. They could use some help with Alessia. This woman wouldn’t be alone, and the priest was right, she clearly adored children and was good with them. The priest vouched for her. With all the servants here, he could simply tell them that rather than interrupting their own work to be running after the child, all they needed to do was to keep a discreet eye on ‘Lessia and her nursemaid, just in case something was needed. It would do the woman a great deal of good. And it would assuage his conscience.

    He cleared his throat. “Well, actually, Father, I hadn’t actually found anyone yet — but as you see, we’ve acquired our little niece temporarily. It occurs to me that we could give her a trial with Alessia. It would be a temporary thing — until my brother and sister-in-law get back. I’ll talk to Katerina about it, this instant.”

    Before the priest could thank him, he got Pietro to go and find Kat.

    Kat was less-than-sure, when they spoke in the hall. “I mean, Marco…we don’t know her at all.”

    “We could try it out for a day or two. Alessia’s interests must come first of course. Just mornings. They will stay inside the Casa. There are always servants too — and us.” It was obvious — at least to him that they were going to have to do something of the sort. They hadn’t had enough hours in the day before ‘Lessia; now…now it was very difficult to get anything done.

    And he and Kat had no privacy.

    She seemed to be mulling all that over in her mind. “Well…let me meet her. I really didn’t like that priest.”

    They went in, and rather than standing on her dignity—the potential employee was sitting on the floor, playing peek-a-boo with a laughing Alessia.

    A better way of persuading Katerina would have been difficult to find. The woman stood up, curtseyed — still being held onto by Alessia. Her voice was quiet and sad and her accents refined.

    By the second day the new nanny Marissa was an essential part of the household. Not only did she get in very early, but her only task was to entertain and watch ‘Lessi. Which she did with an obsessive care. She talked to her, listened to her, carried her, fetched toys, fed her…”Makes life a lot easier,” said Marco, listening to the laughter as they sat in bed.

    It did. It was a few hours which were now miraculously and deliciously less full of a small child. You couldn’t not love ‘Lessi — she was just rather a dramatic and chaotic change in their previously childless lives. Marco began planning on getting to that less sedentary lifestyle. Of course Marissa was only a support, and there to help while they were home, and while they had temporary custody of Alessia, but perhaps later…

    Well, at this point, who knew what the future would bring.