The Warring States (The Wave Trilogy) (26 page)

Greetings,

That’s formalities out of the way! Thing were simpler when you were LX and I was LVIII. I’ll never get used to all these titles, not that you don’t deserve yours. As for me, the extension of my command was welcome, but the Tenth has so far proved more hindrance than help. They are in as bad a state as my beloved Ninth were when I took charge of them. Luparelli, may he rot in peace, was the worst kind of disciplinarian: an indiscriminate one.

Still, I’m not ungrateful. I’ve a good group of captains around me, some of whom fought with my father. My second-in-command is the best of them, and the worst. When Lieutenant Geta (Lord Geta to his friends) is not fighting he occupies himself with drinking and quarrelling and scandals as destructive as tower fires. For the moment the wives of my other captains are his fuel, but one day I’m certain he’ll consume himself. I’ll never understand his popularity
with the infantry: the worse he acts, the better they like him. Our partnership’s a strange one. I’m not sure whether he hates all engineers, or just me. I suppose it can’t be pleasant having a twelve-year-old promoted over you, but if he doesn’t respect me or my rank, at least he respects the name Spinther. I tolerate his insubordination because of his tactical ability. He trained in Rasenna, and you can tell. We’ve had some hard battles up here (almost as rough as the Guild Halls!) and I’ve seen Geta turn utter routs into victory on more than one occasion. Perhaps this is a foolish thing for an engineer to say, but he’s lucky. I can see your blank face now, Torbidda, but on the front luck is as real and as treacherous a thing as the weather. I’ll use him as long as I can.

To business. I’ve just sent an official report to the Collegio, but this letter’s just for you. The Collegio’s orders were to subdue the Franks. Obviously they’re worried about supply – ever since Rasenna, all sorts of rumours have been flying about, and yes, the tribes are more adventurous than usual – but any grunt of the Ninth could have told them that the so-called Regnum Francorum isn’t very impressive up close. I may have been stationed here only three years, but remember I grew up in this wretched place. It’s no great boast to say I understand the Franks thoroughly; they’re not complicated. These rival chieftains may call themselves kings of nations, but as long as they remain disunited, they’re no threat. The only thing that could forge these barbarians into unity is aggression. Peace is the worst thing to give them, so for the last few months I’ve been doling the stuff out liberally. It’s working a treat too: succession struggles have erupted throughout the Isles.
You may reassure the Honourable Consul that the mines of Bavaria and Bohemia are safe.

By the way, Corvis has been getting his way in the Collegio before either of us was born. Tread carefully. He’ll try to provoke you, but when the other fellow has the high ground, never attack – manoeuvre. I know designing an edifice worthy to replace the Molè has been your focus this past year, but you ignore Corvis at your peril. Of course this is not entirely disinterested advice: as my patron and champion my destiny is bound to yours.

Given that association, and current timorousness, I don’t propose to ask the Collegio’s approval for the venture I have in mind, but you should be aware of my plans. After Rasenna, other cities might be getting notions, so I’ve decided it’s the right time to remind our other neighbours that we haven’t gone away. I’m going to raid Ariminum’s colonies along the Adriatic’s northern coast – don’t worry, I’ll leave the Tenth behind to protect the mines when I lead the Ninth east. We’ll hug the coast of the Venetian Gulf, ride swiftly through the Tyrolean Highlands then down into the Dalmatian March. Again, Torbidda, don’t worry: I may not be brilliant as you, but I understand logistics, and I can read a map as well as any soldier. I know how easily my lines can be cut in the narrow pass.

Supply’s a problem that every army campaigning in this water-fractured land must deal with. The Ninth’s bedevilled by it. Your bouncing bridge design served its purpose when it got you noticed, but it’s a shame you only got the phase-transition to work on paper.

A self-forming pontoon would work wonders in this terrain and I’d like to see the plans again next time

I’m in Concord, not that I’m likely to succeed where you failed. Still, this is a problem that engineering can only mitigate. I’ve been studying the geography of the land bridge between the twin seas and I believe it can be taken. Speed’s the nub of it; we must not go too slow, but we cannot go too fast either. The longer we take, the more likely we are to get cut off, yet if we advance faster than our baggage train can catch up, we cut ourselves off
.

It’s a riddle worthy of Varro.

It was Lieutenant Geta who suggested hiring Ariminumese boats to keep the Legion supplied, and so far it’s working. Everything has a price in Ariminum. It was an inspired solution – I confess that I would have never thought of it but, if cynical bastards like Geta are the types of colleagues I must become habituated to, I hope always to remain

Your friend,

LVIII

POST SCRIPTUM:

Thanks, incidentally, for your last letter. It can’t have been easy to finally tell me what happened in Conclave, but I feel better for knowing the circumstances of Agrippina’s death. At least you got to kill the bastard who did for her. She would have been happy for you, of that I’m certain.

The boys continued their drill when Uggeri entered the workshop. They were curious to see Sofia’s wrath, but they knew better than to make it obvious. Uggeri had been returned his flag upon release – or perhaps he’d just taken it. Sofia walked over, her hand out. As he reached forward, Sofia feigned a left, he shifted right and she snapped his flag away from him. Uggeri reached after it, but Sofia blocked him with a stick under his chin. He stopped in time, looked up and saw she meant it.

He stood up straight. ‘I’m not sorry.’

‘I didn’t ask if you were. All I ask is obedience. I give an order, you do it. This isn’t Palazzo del Popolo. Here, I’m still Contessa.’

‘Got it.’

‘Fine then,’ she said and lowered her flag. ‘Don’t go south again without my express permission. I need you here in the workshop. Flags have got slack.’ She said it loud so everyone could hear. ‘Doc wouldn’t have stood for it and neither will I. You boys expecting someone else to do your fighting? The Hawk’s Company? The Sisterhood?

The answer came clear, punctuated by flags thumping floorboards. ‘No, Maestro!’

‘Every workshop in town’s lost its snap. That going to happen here? To Doc Bardini’s boys?’

‘No, Maestro!’

Sofia lowered her voice. ‘What about you? You want to fight?’

‘Yes
, Maestro,’ Uggeri said earnestly.

‘Too bad. You’re my capomaestro. Train these boys until I can hear that snap again.’ She thrust his flag back at him.

‘What about you, Maestro – want to spar?’ Uggeri said with a shy smile, and Sofia knew this was the nearest she’d get to an apology. Uggeri was a physical creature, the way the Doc had been. Perhaps he didn’t have Doc’s brain, but who did?

‘I’m not feeling great. Maybe after this Signoria meeting.’

The Signoria’s elegant new assembly hall was planned by Giovanni and finished by Pedro. With its distinctive clock tower and bold rejection of Concordian forms, the Palazzo del Popolo was a vigorous essay in ‘Etruscan Revival’. The style was popular in Ariminum and the wealthy southern cities like Veii for political as much as aesthetic reasons; it was this neo-classical execution rather than the dome’s modest breadth that impressed foreign visitors most.

The keyhole-shaped plan was rational, but not lacking drama. The old palazzo was often flooded and permanently damp; it had caused the premature death of many elderly parliamentarians. In contrast, the new rotunda was raised to a proud height. At the top of the steps, large bronze doors opened into a lofty corridor lined not with family crests but with the flags of the major Guilds. It led to a cylindrical, light-filled chamber – the Speakers’ Hall, which was capped with a barrel fretted with circular windows that supported the shallow dome. In memory of the building it replaced, the dome’s apex was open to the sky.

Pedro was standing in the centre reading his report on Montaperti. It was dry stuff. Sofia leaned over to Levi. ‘So how did you break the news to Piers Becket that he was engaged?’

‘Down on one knee. I’m a traditionalist.’

‘How’d he take it?’

‘He warmed to it, eventually.’ Levi saw her sceptical look.
‘Becket just looks dumb. I explained that the Hawk’s Company isn’t going anywhere, and that he could do worse than aligning himself with Tower Sorrento. Selling cabbages is a lot more lucrative than being a condottiere these days, and safer. Once he got the idea, he made a handsome apology to the offended patriarch.’

‘Also on bended knee, no doubt. The farmer won’t mind a condottieri captain in the family. I bet Bombelli turns the wedding into a state occasion.’

‘If I could convince all my men to pair off, there wouldn’t be any more bad blood.’

‘What are you, a matchmaker? This is Rasenna. We’ll find a new reason.’

The textile Guilds – furriers, silk-makers and cloth-dealers – sat together and voted together, as instructed by the Wool Guild. The Guilds of the Bandieratori, Engineers and Doctors were floating voters. The minor Guilds had neither vote nor seat, but were instead represented by a major Guild, a relationship akin to parents and children, according to the priors. The dyers, pullers and carders did not think their association so benign, but they had no other option. As for those trades too menial to have any Guild status: they were orphans.

Pedro had come to end of his report. He took a breath and glanced at Sofia. ‘And since we’d gone so far, we decided to go a little further.’

‘What if you’d been caught?’ Sofia said angrily. ‘Who would lead our engineers? You have a responsibility to people other than yourself—’

‘Yuri was with me, and we only circled the Waste – near enough to see Concord’s walls, but not near enough to be in any danger.
Dio
, it’s a wonder!’

‘But what were you doing?’

‘Surveying the western canal,’ Fabbro interrupted. ‘Maestro
Vanzetti was acting under my orders.’ The gonfaloniere was flanked by Polo and Bocca, the farmer and the brewer. All three glared at Sofia.

‘You don’t seriously propose to attack it?’ said Levi in alarm.

The farmer smiled bitterly. ‘Of course not. You must be tolerant of us, Podesta, if we occasionally consider other things besides war. It is a weakness of merchants. Rasenna is no further from the sea than Concord. If they can build a canal, so can we.’

The old days of waiting for the mace to speak were gone. Levi knew that Polo Sorrento was still smarting with embarrassment over his daughter, but he would not have spoken without support.

Levi ignored the sarcasm; he got it now. ‘Ariminum has a port so—’

‘—we need one too.’ Fabbro said. ‘Rasenna can’t
really
compete with Ariminum until we become a maritime power.’

‘Gonfaloniere, I’ve nothing against your dreams of empire but the timing. I’ve been trying to fuse the southern league into a meaningful coalition. Naturally, the other cities are waiting for Ariminum’s lead. After Concord, it
is
the strongest state in Etruria. If we it drive into Concord’s camp—’

‘The league. The league. When will you give up that dream? You know all too well that Ariminum’s a slippery negotiator. The more leverage we have over them, the better. Besides, Concord’s in no condition to cause us trouble. It’s falling apart! And if it ever does regain stability, its ambitions are in the north. The Twelfth’s expedition south two years ago was about getting rid of the condottieri; effectively, they did. Times change, Podesta. Commerce and diplomacy will be better shields than any league.’

Sofia could stand no more. ‘Diplomacy isn’t an option. Concord means to destroy us!’

‘Tranquillo
, Signorina,’ the farmer said sweetly, ‘diplomacy’s always an option.’

Levi said strongly, ‘This impasse will not be solved by more letters. It will be too late if you only see the point of a league when Concord acts.’

‘We sent them packing once; we can do it again,’ the farmer said breezily. ‘Friends, we owe the Podesta an apology. The city of towers hasn’t lived up to its turbulent reputation.’ He turned to Levi with a sympathetic expression, ‘If settled life bores you, don’t spare our feeling. Go – take your men too. No one will complain.’

There was laughter amongst the textile priors and their allies. Only the brewer, who made a lot of money keeping the condottieri drunk, didn’t join in.

But Levi ignored them. ‘As the southern league’s northernmost city, Rasenna will be first to face Concord’s army: you must see that. If and when Concord comes, you’ll be thankful for every man you can get. With the Hawk’s Company, you defeated a legion that wasn’t expecting a fight. How will you fare against several legions who come prepared? If you continue to stand alone, you’ll fall.’

The farmer applauded slowly. ‘Bravo, Podesta! The flags, the horses, the alarums and clash of sword and axe! The grand sweep of war! Let’s take a breath after all that excitement. Friends, we mustn’t hold it against the Podesta that he loves war – after all, that
is
his occupation. But we must remember it when we weigh his arguments. Don’t your spies tell you anything? Concord lacks the wherewithal to launch a new offensive against us.’