The Exiled Blade (The Assassini) - By Jon Courtenay Grimwood Page 0,60
second or third . . . That the assassin before him had been a Persian turned from his faith at vast expense told Tycho all he needed to know. He had been Alonzo’s last throw.
After Tycho, Alonzo changed tactics.
Around Tycho the street hunkered down in silence, little knowing the clamour and outrage the next few hours would bring. The windows stared blind and dark, the locked doors were silent mouths and sealed lips. And he sobbed as he ran, unsure what he was sobbing for, unless it was the memory of Alexa’s unforgiving courage, the shock of what she’d asked him to do. Streets became shoreline and then the ice of the lagoon, and still he ran. Where the sea became too salt and restless to freeze the lagoon ended in a ragged frill of rotten ice. The small lugger that had delivered him to the ice shelf waited off the ledge, a merchant ship waiting beyond that.
Alonzo’s letters had smoothed the way. In some weird manner, Tycho’s demand for gold and letters allowing him to commandeer a Montenegrin ship had convinced the Regent he was serious, that he would do what Alonzo demanded. Without that, Tycho would never have been allowed to leave the clearing, while Alonzo put Amelia into Lord Roderigo’s care and the rest of Alonzo’s courtiers looked on wondering what they were watching.
A sailor on the lugger lifted his lamp and swore at the blood on Tycho’s hands and his tear-streaked face. Tycho tossed him Alexa’s jade bowl. “What’s this?” the man demanded.
“The most valuable thing in Venice.”
26
Lady Giulietta knew she should have put a wrap over her nightgown, but it was more than this that made the guards refuse to meet her eyes. Faces tight, they looked as if they wanted to hurry past. “I said, what’s happened?”
“Giulietta.”
The voice came from behind. Her name without hesitation or stutter. Turning, she saw Marco flanked by guards with torches. His face was pale and his gaze serious. It took her a moment to realise he was dressed.
“You couldn’t sleep?”
“It’s almost as if she knew,” he said.
Who knew? Knew what? Giulietta’s fingers tightened into fists as her cousin turned for a window to stare at snowflakes falling from a grey, dark sky. On either side of him, guards came to a standstill. “But how could she know?” Answering, “This was my mother. How could she not know?”
“Marco . . . What’s happened?”
Then she knew because a slight body was carried from Alexa’s study on a bier. Although a blanket covered it, blood had soaked through grey wool to leave a crimson stain where her heart would be. “Don’t . . .” Marco shouted. His words came too late to stop Giulietta from lifting the blanket away.
So beautiful . . . Aunt Alexa looked asleep.
Lady Giulietta couldn’t help dragging the blanket down to reveal her aunt’s wound. And though Marco came to stand beside her, he let her touch her finger to the blood-soaked tear in Alexa’s gown. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Me too.” Marco’s arm went round her, and she leant her head into his shoulder. “Now, let them d-do their job . . .” He moved her back and one of his guards replaced the blanket before the bier was carried away. “I’ve told them to t-take her to the crypt.” Marco’s eyes were unreadable. “Many more b-bodies and we’ll have to stack them somewhere else.”
Shock. This has to be the shock talking. “Who did this?”
“That can wait. First I must s-secure the city.” Gesturing to Captain Weimer, he called the man closer. “Wake the Ten, tell them they’re n-needed now. Accept no excuses, everyone is to attend.”
The captain was surprised at Marco’s crispness. This was not the duke he or his officers knew. This duke was already glaring beyond him to palace guards crowding the stairs as they fought to present themselves.
“Weimer.”
He seemed shocked Marco knew his name.
“Throw a c-cordon round Ca’ Ducale. Put archers on the roof and wrap them warm, they’re no used to me half d-dead from cold. Have a fire lit in the s-smaller state room, if anyone comes from the embassies p-put them there. Have them g-given wine and f-food, water and food for the Mamluks and Moors. Send a m-messenger to let me know.”
“Yes, highness.”
The duke headed for the stairs down which his mother’s body had just vanished and his bodyguard hurried after. “If shock can make fools of men,” Lady Giulietta said to Captain Weimer, who stared after them.