The Warring States (The Wave Trilogy) (61 page)

‘Go! I’ll hold them.’ Uggeri pushed into the centre while hiding his body behind his flag, drawing in swords, then crashing his stick down to disarm them.

His bandieratori leapt from Tower Cammertoni and spread out, each taking a separate path across the rooftops. Soon Becket’s men were down to four, but Uggeri’s flag had been sliced into rags. He kept them at bay with his stick, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold so many swordsmen for long. He circled until their backs were to the burning Tower Scaligeri, listening to the small explosions as the fire consumed each floor.

‘You’ll never have Rasenna as long as one of us lives,’ he shouted.

‘Look around. The bandieratori are finished,’ said Becket gaily.

Something seemed to break within Uggeri and he threw his tattered stick away. ‘All right, damn you! I’ll come quietly.’ Then, ‘What’s so funny?’

‘We’re not taking prisoners.’

A rumbling shudder filled the air. ‘I guess I knew that,’ Uggeri said, and with a silent prayer, he stepped back into nothingness.

He dropped vertically down the side of the tower, and caught the Cammertoni flag. Up above, he heard Tower Scaligeri moving with a great grinding noise, slowly tilting towards Tower Cammertoni, gathering speed … until Becket and his men were crushed as the towers annihilated each other.

Hot stone rained down on Uggeri and he felt the shadow of
death’s wing fall on him. All at once fear was absent. He did something he’d never before attempted.

He let go.

And fell.

For ever. The stars above meshed with the sparks and the beams of fire that were once towers. Two burning flags sailed by him, entwined and writhing like dying dragons.
This
was what Sofia had tried to show him, the peace at the heart of the fight – the wonder of it. He only regretted discovering it too late.

He crashed into a roof, and the tiles gave way beneath him. A moment of darkness was followed by an unexpectedly soft landing, and surprise—

—he was alive! He’d landed in an abandoned weaver’s attic and was practically entombed in yellow dust. The wool he rested on was damp, sticky and rotten, but it had saved his life. No time to thank the Madonna. Through the hole in the roof he could see Tower Scaligeri had caused a domino collapse, and to judge from the thunder, it was happening all over the northside.

Sparks and embers fell through the hole and the attic began to fill with a thick, noxious smoke. He attempted to sit up but the wool clung to him until it felt like drowning. He held his breath and fell to the ground as he pulled himself free. He crawled along the floorboards, searching, but there was nothing there, just roiling, creamy smoke that cut his lungs like broken glass. He collapsed coughing, and his flailing hand came to rest on the stick of an old combat flag. He closed his fist around it and opened his eyes. Through the tears and smoke he could see the banner was black. Imagine Doc Bardini allowing himself to die choking like a dog and unavenged – never! Uggeri picked himself up and searched until he found the trapdoor. With strength failing, he dragged it open and all but fell down the ladder.

He was dizzy and bruised and bleeding, but he was alive! A surge of ecstasy lifted him to his feet. He opened the workshop’s front door a crack: Piazza Stella was full of condottieri. At the back of the workshop was another door. He kicked it open, flag ready.

The alleyway was empty.

The glowing orange sky proclaimed that the topside was a dead zone for bandieratori. Sparks drifted amongst the stars as darkness once more descended on the streets, this time as a cloud of smoke and dust. The screaming continued over a steady percussive rumbling, interrupted by periodic explosive impacts. The bellows of falling towers pushed a river of scalding air through the alleys. He ignored the hair-singeing heat and ran to Tartarus.

The Land across the Water
APOTHEOSIS

Just as plague erupts every seventh year, so every seventh century Tartarus, that sea of grass at the world’s roof, expurgates its unruly children. In the middle of the last century, the hordes of Gog abandoned the steppe and invaded … everywhere. The thundercloud rolled swiftly over Russ-Land, surveyed Europa’s poverty and turned south to the Holy Land. The horsemen did not distinguish between Ebionite and Marian; all life was their enemy. The Oltremarines and the Ebionites had to choose whether to fight together or die separately
.

Their combined armies, led by the Old Man of the Mountain, turned back the storm at Ain Jalut.
⁴³
Afterwards the Old Man vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, and with him, the alliance. One question remained: who would strike first? King Tancred, in whom the Guiscard bloodline had reached an apotheosis of sorts, did not hesitate. Following his recapture of Jerusalem,
⁴⁴
he scattered the Radinate into the desert from whence it had sprung.
⁴⁵
The tribes returned to
scavenging,
⁴⁶
and Akka
⁴⁷
began to look covetously on the Middle Sea. Crusade is riddled with ironies, but the greatest
⁴⁸
must be that it created a rival to Etrurian interests much worse than the Radinate
.

The queen stood on the south wall facing the empty immensity. ‘The patriarch says the Sands must consume Akka one day. I don’t believe it. God would not allow it. We’re meant to be here.’ Behind her, Sofia looked silently on that unlimited desolation, hearing again the threat:
Wherever you run, he’ll find you
. There was no sanctuary then, even here.

Catrina assumed Sofia was brooding on other things and praised her mothering abilities. ‘I’ve never seen such a natural.’

Sofia demurred, ‘I’ve never been very feminine.’

‘Feminine. Bah! A word describing the ideal slave. Obedient is what they mean. Weeping, fainting, mooning over idiotic men, laughing at idiotic jokes, marvelling at idiotic deeds. We are
queens
, Contessa. We have frail bodies, but we must have manly hearts to win men’s hearts, and to do what must be done.’

Sofia cupped the back of the baby’s head, feeling its downy warmth and the small chest moving against hers.

‘There!’ the queen cried triumphantly.

Sofia saw only a dust cloud on the horizon. ‘Could be a Jinni.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s getting larger, and staying in one place. That’s riders coming towards us – two, I’d wager. Must have him bound. Oh, Papa’s coming back home, isn’t he?’ She clapped her hands, then reached over to pinch the baby’s cheek. In her enthusiasm, she made her howl.

Down in the courtyard, Fulk and his men helped Levi and Arik tie up their camels. As they began to climb the stairway,
Catrina said, ‘Contessa, give me the child. I want to show my uncle how well I treat his child despite the way he treated me.’ She eagerly shouted down, ‘Well, where is he? You
did
find him?’

Arik exchanged a look with Levi. ‘His body.’

The queen’s face reddened with fury. ‘I told you I wanted him
alive!
’

The baby started crying and Sofia offered to take her again, but the queen ignored her, demanding explanation.

‘He was dead when we found him, Majesty. He must have panicked. He’d entered Sicarii territory.’

‘Nonsense! Andronikos grew up in this land – he knew where he was going. The scoundrel made a deal with them.’

Arik was sceptical. ‘To what end?’

‘To my throne, of course. Lord knows what concessions he promised them – as long as those bandits exist, my throne is not safe. Your father was a real idiot, wasn’t he, little one?’

‘He was desperate. He thought he’d be executed,’ Sofia said.

‘He wasn’t wrong.’ Catrina laughed. ‘I just wish he’d lived to see
this
.’

She cast the baby over the wall before Sofia knew what was happening. The child screamed all the way down. Levi, stunned though he was, managed to restrain Sofia before she assaulted the queen. Fulk and his men surrounded Catrina and stood facing them.

‘How – how
could
you?’

Catrina was implacable. ‘It was self-defence. Nothing threatens a queen more than a princess – Andronikos should have known better. He always did underestimate me.’

‘Monster!’ Sofia cried.

‘Silence! I don’t owe you an explanation. Would it have been better if the Grand Master had done it? I’m no hypocrite.’

Sofia looked at Fulk. ‘He wouldn’t!’

‘I know my men.’ Catrina’s lip curled. ‘Better at least than a foreign whore.’

Levi looked at the Lazars surrounding the queen. ‘Sofia, leave it.’

But Sofia couldn’t. ‘You never intended to help us, did you? You just used us to draw Andronikos into rebellion.’

‘Child,
this
is what it means to be queen. Your people abandoned us to our struggle and it made us strong. I return the favour.’

Weeping, Sofia broke away from Levi. Fulk caught hold of her, but she flung him off too. ‘Don’t touch me,
Leper!
’

‘Sofia, come back!’

There was nowhere to flee but the palace.

On her way to her chamber, Sofia passed the patriarch, standing alone in the Ancestor Room. He was staring lovelorn at a particular mask and he started away guiltily at the sound of her feet. ‘Contessa! I was just – that is—’

‘You know what your mistress did?’

‘Ah. Done, is it?’ he said quietly. ‘Unfortunate business.’

‘You too,’ Sofia said numbly.

‘Contessa, be fair. Queen Catrina cannot allow rebellion to tear apart her kingdom. Andronikos was a viper.’

‘But the child – how could she?’

‘How could she not? Anyone close to the throne is close enough to be tempted: guards, courtiers, family. That’s what makes the Lazars perfect praetorians. They die young and cannot reproduce – even if one persuaded a woman to sell herself, the disease makes them sterile. Don’t judge Catrina too harshly; you don’t know the wars she has survived.’

‘So others should suffer?’

The patriarch looked at Sofia sadly. ‘She suffers too. The queen is God’s anointed, and as He gave His only son, so Catrina
gave Fulk to a leper wet nurse. With the milk, the child consumed death.’

Sofia stared at the patriarch. ‘He’s her
son?
’

‘Etruria left us to die. To survive this merciless land we had to become merciless too.’

Sofia looked around hopelessly at the imperturbable cruel masks. Beneath his scars, Fulk looked like them.

Later that evening, Sofia found Fulk and Arik talking on the wall. Fulk stood. ‘Perhaps I should go.’

‘Please, don’t. I’m sorry for what I said. You didn’t have a choice. She condemned you.’

‘We’re all condemned, Contessa. A knight’s life is not measured in years.’ In the darkness behind the mask, Fulk’s soft eyes shone with the loyalty of a hound.

‘Why do you still defend her?’

‘There’s no greater joy than to know one’s duty in life.’ He bowed to her. ‘I understand you’re upset, but I will not blacken my queen’s name.’

‘She blackens her own name!’ Sofia shouted as Fulk walked away.

‘Nice apology,’ Arik said.

She turned on him. ‘Did
you
know what she planned?’

‘No, but the crimes of the
Franj
have long ceased to surprise me. The queen’s actions, repugnant as they were, were logical. Your title, Contessa – did many siblings aspire for it also?’

When Sofia admitted that she had none, Arik said, ‘That follows. Familial bonds are helpful when a family is striving to rise, but when it reaches the summit, the competition does not cease but intensifies. Your sister, your brother, formerly your closest allies, become your closest rivals.’ He paused. ‘I speak, as you know, from experience.’

‘You never told me how you escaped.’

‘When I was very young my father made me a hostage to the queen’s grandfather. That’s when Fulk and I became friends. My father wanted me to learn the ways of the
Franj
and I cursed him for it. Now I know he was giving me an escape route. When I saw Yusuf sharpening his knife, where else could I go? One man in the desert is a dead man. I fled to Akka and offered Catrina my dagger.’ He smiled with embarrassment. ‘I know the land as well as any Ebionite, better than any of her men. I see how you look at me, Sofia. You are thinking, you are thinking, “This scoundrel betrayed his people.” I will tell you the manner of men I betrayed. The Prophetess led a righteous rebellion against foreign oppressors. My brother’s running dogs dishonour the name of Sicarii. Freedom fighters –
ha!
They prey on the baggage trains that cross the desert, murdering Oltremarines and extorting Ebionites. What courage. What
folly
. The last hope of overthrowing the
Franj
vanished with the Old Man of the Mountain. My brother knows that, as do the other Ebionite tribes. Individually you will find no men stronger, but they value their freedom too much to submit to a king and that’s what keeps them weak.’