Dark fires, p.9
Dark Fires, page 9
“Is this wise? We’re going soon, why do you care?”
“Because if something like that were to happen to me, I hope someone would lift a finger to avenge me.” With some reluctance, Sergio nodded his assent. “All I need is for you to be a lookout, I’ll do the rest. Tonight we must do it.”
“Tonight?” Sergio echoed, dismayed.
“When else? We leave town in two days.”
That night, way past curfew, two shadows wrapped in black slunk through the streets. At Summerside they climbed a back wall into a small courtyard. Justin positioned Sergio on the steps and whispered, “Whistle once if someone or something is coming. Twice if I have to hurry, understand?” Sergio nodded, his heart hammering.
Justin tried the back door but found it locked, as well as all the windows facing that way. With a stick he reached through the lattice of the kitchen window, lifted the bar and pushed the window in, cringing as the hinge complained. He clambered up, and disappeared into the darkness inside.
Left to himself, Sergio was alarmed by the least little noise. A dog came down the alleyway, nosing the garbage strewn about. Somewhere a door slammed, as someone sought the outhouse. From time to time Sergio heard noises from the inside, but never much or loud; still every little nuance frightened him. The half moon found a bit of open sky, and it suddenly turned bright. For Sergio it felt as if it were midday and he was naked and the whole world was watching him. Where’s Justin, what’s keeping him? He was anxiously sucking air through his teeth, and every minute turned into an hour. He thought to whistle to draw Justin outside and only by the greatest exertion of will did he resist the compulsion. Where is he? Is he chopping the depraved man to bits? Get on with it. Sergio prayed, then tried to sing in his head to keep the fear out. He felt chilled by the terror he imagined, and his feet were trembling with tension. He no longer had a sense of time and thought the dawn would soon be breaking, exposing them in the light of day for everyone to see. Just when he couldn’t stand it a minute more, the window creaked again and Justin appeared.
“Is it done?”
“Yes, it’s done,” Justin croaked. They climbed the wall, and on tiptoes they ran through the empty streets, hidden by the darkness of a covered moon. They arrived home, climbed in through the back window and collapsed in the dayroom. Sergio got a pot full of water from the kitchen and they drank all of it to quench their thirst, sharpened by the anxiety.
“Is he dead then?”
“No.”
“No??! So what was all that for?”
“Let’s just say he’s missing some important parts.”
“You cut his balls off? Castrated him?”
“No. No I didn’t. I knocked him out, undressed him, tied his hands behind him and stuffed a rag into his mouth, then looped a wire over his privates and anchored it to the fire dogs in the fire place. I shook him awake so he could see as I piled logs on and lit them. The rest was up to him.”
“What rest?”
“To choose if he wanted to be roasted or give up his pleasure parts.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“And...”
“He stood the heat for a few moments, struggling but not getting free. Then it got hot, very hot, and he decided not to be turned into cooked meat and tore himself away. He’s in there now, still tied and silenced, wallowing in pain. They’ll find him in the morning, maybe alive, maybe bled to death.”
Sergio was chilled by this brief description, his imagination fired by the scene he had not seen. “You fool! He saw you. He can recognize you.”
“I had my head covered. Only enough to see.”
Sergio mulled it over, chewing on the details. “It would’ve been kinder to kill him outright,” was his final verdict.
“I wasn’t feeling kind.” Justin’s face was vengeful granite, every line cruel. “The Book says those who live by the sword, shall perish by the sword. In this case, it was his prick…”
They packed and repacked. For Sergio and Justin there was not much, a change of clothes was all. As they helped Opal, it was hard for her to give up her cherished possessions. Still it was too much and they had to cull the pack again, ending up with two light bundles.
“My mandolin... I can’t leave it,” she protested, mourning for that instrument the most. She wiped a tearstained face as she turned her back on the rest of her possessions.
Master Conti advised them they must be ready before daybreak and make their way to the North Gate. A wagon he had rented would be waiting outside to take them to Florence.
At dinner they ate lightly, their stomachs too nervous with the coming flight. Pia served, Marcello assisted, talking about a break-in on Summerside, how the owner was attacked and mutilated.
“The strange thing is, nothing was taken. Not the money box nor any of the silver. The guess is that he cuckolded someone, who took his revenge that way. He had a certain reputation.”
“Then he’s alive, is he?” Sergio asked, momentarily diverted.
“Yes. Barely.”
After the meal the day dragged on, filled with growing uncertainty. When night finally came, they took leave of each other, reminding themselves of an early start. Sergio came to sleep on the floor in the corner of Justin’s room. He had his small pack with him and some bread and cheese from last night’s supper.
Chapter 15
Justin couldn’t sleep. He liked the house, the comfort it offered and the sheltered, ordered life it provided. They were going to risk the dangers of the open road, at every turn corrupt officials demanding duties and bribes, robbers hiding in woods just waiting for a fat pigeon to pluck. Bad food, chancy accommodations in roadside inns, and the discomfort of being jarred and thrown about by the rough roads. And then there was the weather, often unpredictable and mercurial.
When he fell asleep he didn’t sleep long. Something woke him. Something outside. He listened and thought he heard noises, but dismissed it as his imagination. When there was sudden shouting downstairs, he vaulted from the bed. Looking outside, he saw a group of the Watch assembled in the dim light of the courtyard. Sergio half rose, rubbing his eyes. “What... what?”
“They’re here. The Watch to take us.”
“Why? Whatever for?”
“Leave the why. Grab your stuff and follow me.” He stepped to the window.
Just then Marcello’s voice came up to them from the stairwell. “They were set to flee. Like rats deserting the ship, feeling the retribution coming. They’re heretics, all. Take them.” Feet stampeded up the stairs, sounding a drumbeat of doom. Behind Pia was crying, “God save us. Jesus be merciful. My poor Master, Missy...”
Then, they heard the door to Master Conti being bashed in, and the protesting cries of Opal being dragged from her room.
“Opal...??!”
“Leave her! There’s nothing we can do for them,” Justin hissed urgently, “Come. Now!” He opened the window and clambered onto the back roof. “Come, God damn you! Quickly.”
Sergio finally came, and crouching they unsteadily made their way along the spine of the roof. By Master Conti’s window, Justin paused and peered inside, finding the room empty. He jumped in, rummaged quickly under the bed to drag a pack from there. From below came the sounds of struggle as the Contis were being dragged down the stairs. Justin again slipped through the window to rejoin Sergio there sweating out his fears.
“Are you crazy??! You want an extra pair of socks? At a time like this...?”
By the chimney they started down, stepping into the cracks in the stone work. Just then, above them the window flew open with loud shouts. “There they are. They’re trying to get away!”
The two youths jumped the last bit of distance, vaulted over the neighbor’s fence and cut through the back yard to the alley beyond. They ran like never before in their lives, behind them the sound of pursuit gaining. But armed men weighed down by their weapons couldn’t keep up with two nimble youths, who knew all the twists and turns of the town and soon lost them in the labyrinth of alleyways.
Panting, Justin pulled up by a crypt in the churchyard. “We can’t just keep running without a plan.”
“We must go back and help Master,” Sergio objected.
“Shut up and let me think.” Justin wiped the sweat out of his eyes and tried to formulate a plan. Sergio fidgeted, peering around the corner, watching for pursuit.
“First off, we must change ourselves. Back to what we were, invisible street kids. Beggars and castaways. The trash people throw out. That way we might have a chance.” He scooped up some dirt and smeared it over his face and clothes. With a small knife he slashed his shirt and jacket, put holes in his pants. His boots he left intact, but smudged them with mud. Sergio watched him astonished as if Justin had lost his mind. “You too, do it! We’re no longer one of the well-to-do they’re searching for, but again the lowest of the low.” He scattered a bit of sand in his hair and rubbed it in well. “How do I look?”
“Terrible,” Sergio assured him, “like Bird...” He set about altering himself. They stuffed their baggage into a hole in the masonry and left the church yard.
“We’d better split up for now. Remember, they’re looking for two. Meet you by the San Antonio statue at sundown. Stay out of sight. Look for food.”
“What about the Contis?”
“We’ll come to that once I’ve had a chance to think.”
“I can think too.”
“You do that. Walk into the East Tower, demand that they be freed.”
“No cause to be sarcastic...”
“Meet you as agreed at sundown.” They separated, Sergio heading for the market to see if he could find any food and Justin trying the lower town, where sometimes food could be begged from door to door.
Justin did have luck with one of the larger houses on Lilac Path. A woman, plucking a chicken in the back, was startled by Justin’s sudden appearance, and yelled at him to get lost, but when she settled herself, she felt guilty and had her daughter give him some two days old bread.
Midday, Justin got a good look at the East Tower. It was an intimidating structure, square and tall, with narrow windows surmounted by Roman arches to carry the massive weight of the stone walls above, a hulking weathered expanse to the parapets. Steps led up to the main entrance, to the tall iron plated door. Guards with halberds flanked the entryway.
The East Tower had been the main keep, long since abandoned in favor of more friendly palaces to live in. It had then served as an armory for the Watch, but was recently taken over by Santori and converted for his purposes. Now Brother Alvarez and his specialists were in charge, occupying the whole building.
Justin hid in a ramshackle pen that was leaning against the side of a house wall. From a split in the boards he could watch all the comings and goings in the square in front of the Tower. At the moment, not much was happening; the guards by the door leaned against the wall, their posture bored. An occasional wagon rumbled by, but little else. Justin’s eyes searched for another way in, but there was none. Everything had to pass through the main door, guarded day and night, he expected.
Minutely Justin examined the building. The first set of windows was about 20 feet up, protected by iron grills. Twelve feet higher, another row of windows, with bars again across the openings. There was no way to get through those. On the top level, the same. On the very top a parapet went around the roof for a sentry to walk on. Justin could see no one up there at present, but there was no need for it, the building was secure.
Having seen all there was to see, Justin moved to look at the other sides of the tower. He found them about the same, windows high up, securely barred. At one time it was the living place of the barons who had ruled the surrounding lands. Justin tried to figure out the inner layout. Steps up, the entrance level had to be at least three men high, surmounted by two more floors, and below had to be at least two sublevels, where the cells and prisoners’ holding pens were likely to be. The entry had to open up to the windowless main hall, where now the tribunal sat to conduct the interrogations. It was a sinister structure, a hulking mass of stones without any sympathy or grace, now a vast container for pain and terror.
The northwest side faced the weather edge, and the stonework had a darker tone, discolored by driving winds and rain that swept along the valley floor. There wasn’t much else to be seen. Three chimneys rose over the roof, and an elevated crow’s nest to give a good all-around look at the countryside. The latter showed signs of neglect and hadn’t been used much for some decades.
Justin circled back to the front, climbed into the haymow of a stable, burrowed himself among the straw and kept the entrance to the tower in view. For the most part the guards slumped against the wall, just waiting out their shifts. From time to time an officer would stick his head out for a quick look-about; the sentries snapped to attention but slacked off as soon as he was gone. In the afternoon, two men trudged about 28 buckets of water from a nearby well, swearing as they climbed the long steps.
After about four hours, new guards came to change off, falling into the same lax pattern as the previous lot. Twice as Justin watched, a group of the Watch escorted a prisoner up to the gate and turned him over to those inside. Later a wagon load of charcoal arrived and was offloaded a sack at a time.
At seven bells Justin left his perch and walked back to meet Sergio at the statue as arranged. As he got near, he almost didn’t recognize his friend, he played the beggar role so well.
“Any luck?” Sergio asked hopefully.
“A little.” Justin passed over the heel of a loaf and got a handful of dried prunes in return. They were both silent, chewing as if it were the most important thing in their lives. It was hard to get used to basic fare again after the abundance at the Contis. Finished, Sergio started fidgeting.
“We have to rescue her, you know,” Sergio said, his face anxious.
“But how? The place is a fortress. Only one way in and out, guarded all the time.”
“We can’t just leave her there...”
“No, we can’t. But we need a plan.”
“Find one. Think one up, you’re good at that.”
Justin was thinking. The place seemed unassailable, with tightly controlled access. One could only get in as a prisoner. No, that’s too risky. Once in, there’s no way out.
After a time, Justin muttered, “There might be a way. A big place like the East Tower has to have a garderobe.”
“Where they shit and piss? How’s that going to help us?”
“That could be our mouse hole into the place. There has to be a sort of chimney from there to a cesspool below, you know, a dung pit, that has to be cleaned out repeatedly. I once met a young boy who climbed the chimney to clean off the walls.”
“Please don’t tell me we have to climb through that.”
“We might have to or do you want to leave her in there?” Sergio got a resigned expression on his face; he was ready to do anything required.
It was getting dark, curfew approaching. They crawled into an empty goat pen by the market place, to spend the night. They settled into some rushes, covering themselves with them. Justin was still thinking, not able to sleep. There has to be a way in.
It was well past midnight when Justin shook Sergio awake. “Come, we must do something.”
“What? What...” the other mumbled, still half asleep, but he followed. The two of them slunk through the dark. It was of course unlawful for them to be abroad after curfew, and if caught they could face jail, but still Justin led on. He stopped at a back wall of a yard. “Stay,” he whispered and clambered up and over the wall. In minutes he returned with a pair of coarse black cloths that had been drying outside on a line. “Wrap yourself in this, especially your head and face.”
Sergio did as directed, and they pressed on, following an alleyway to another backyard.
“This is where Nico Masetti lives.”
“The cobbler? Wasn’t he accused of heresy, recanted and now wears the yellow cross?”
“The same. His shop is closed, his customers deserted him and his family’s gone to relatives in the country. He dares to be here alone, to safeguard his house.”
“And...?”
“And. We need some information from him. We’re going to break in and ask him. Cover your face well.” With that Justin climbed over the stone wall and crossed over to the back end of the house, Sergio close behind him. Justin tried the windows, finding one unlatched. Sergio boosted him up onto the sill, from where Justin reached down to help Sergio up. Inside, moving cautiously, they found the stairs, and went up a careful step at a time, frozen by every little creak. Upstairs they stood still, listening, then followed the sound of snores coming from a corner. Justin uncoiled Viper and gave it to Sergio, “When I tell you, tie him up.” He moved closer, and then jammed a piece of cloth over the sleeping man’s mouth to stifle him. “Now!” Sergio sprang into action and in a heartbeat had the man bound hands and feet.
They dragged Masetti onto a chair and tied him securely. Justin found a candle stub, lit it and set it by the man. Masetti was petrified, his face sweating, his eyes round with terror.
“Have no fear, we’re not here to hurt you,” Justin said in an intense whisper. He waited until the eyes settled into a glimmer of reason. “We only need information from you. That’s all. Nod if you understand.” Hesitantly the man nodded. “We won’t harm you and will let you go right after and disappear as if we hadn’t been here. Understand?” The man nodded again with a little more assurance. “Good, untie him.” Sergio released the man and Justin took the gag from his mouth.
“This won’t take long, I promise, and then we’ll be gone.” He recoiled his Viper but kept it handy. “You’ve been to the East Tower. I need to know what’s inside, the layout and what goes on in there.” The man’s face turned anxious again and he shook his head vehemently. “I know it’s painful to recall those things, but we need to know.”
