The Shadow of God by Anthony Goodman

Author:Anthony Goodman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2010-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

Philippe, Thomas Docwra, John Buck, Antonio Bosio, and Gabriel de Pommerols were gathered around the large oak table in the meeting room of the Palace. The bombardment had continued all day. None of the cannonballs had reached the Palace. The windows were still heavily boarded and the air was heavy and hot. Dust stirred up by the blasts drifted in through cracks in the doors and the men had a hard time suppressing their coughs. The five were engrossed in the battle plans, and were marking the drawings of the fortifications to delineate the weak points that needed repair. From time to time, a messenger came in to bring them up to date on new damage and repairs.

Just before dark, as the servants were clearing away some of the meal that the knights had eaten during their war council, a messenger came running into the room. It was one of the knights from the langue of Italy.

“Scusi, Signores,” he said catching his breath. “The fishermen have returned with their catch.”

Philippe looked up at the knight standing in the doorway. “Their catch? What fishermen?”

The young knight stepped aside, and in marched Basilios with his three mates. Philippe rose from his seat and gasped. “God Almighty!”

Basilios smiled, and held aloft the scimitar upon which he had impaled the severed head of the Janissary. Behind him came Marcantonio, Nicolo, and Petros, dragging along the two others. The prisoners were bound at the elbows with their hands behind them. Their legs were hobbled with heavy ropes, which allowed only small, mincing steps. Both were gagged with filthy rags used to clean the fishing boat, and their uniforms were ragged and wet with salt and sand. They reeked of dead fish, and all wore identical caps of crusted blood, where they had been struck over the head. One of the young men seemed unable to focus his eyes and staggered as he walked. It was only because Marcantonio supported him that the he did not fall to the ground in his stupor.

“What have we here?” Philippe said, now smiling. “You have had a successful fishing trip, Monsieur Basilios?” He walked around the table and looked at the beaten bodies of the Janissaries. “I hope they are well enough to talk to us.”

“They only just awoke, Signore. I think your inquisitors will have better luck with them than we could.”

“Yes, I should imagine so. Antonio, have these men taken away, and see what they have to tell us. Waste no time, though. If they are unwilling to answer all our questions, put them right to the rack. They’ll talk soon enough, and we have no time for foolishness. Allez!” Bosio and the three fishermen left the room dragging the prisoners behind them.

Then Philippe turned to Basilios and said, “And what did you learn, my friend?”

“I overheard a few of the soldiers talking, my Lord,” Basilios said. “There were only a few conversations about the battle and the troops. I could not learn a great deal, which is why I thought to bring you these men instead.

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