Cesare's head cleared as they streamed through the night air, setting up a wind from their rapid motion through its stillness. He could feel the irritating pains in his arm and leg, but they were worth nothing compared with the exhilarating vigor he felt in freedom.
They rode at all speed until there was neither sight nor sound of any pursuit.
“A narrow success,” the Count called against the wind as he galloped beside Cesare.
“A little spice to give it perfection,” Cesare called back, laughing into the wind.
CHAPTER 22
“I tell you, you can name your price,” Cesare said.
The ship's master with whom he spoke turned a steady searching gaze on him. There was no compromise in his hard eyes.
“I tell you that my route is not to France? and I know of nobody else who has such a direction.”
He stared hard at Cesare.
“Besides, from what you sound there's danger in it?and I'll not risk my ship for any money.”
“As you wish,” Cesare sighed. “The loss is yours.”
He bade the captain goodnight and left the tavern.
Throughout the small town, the Count's men were plying all and sundry with similar questions. Meeting at pre-determined times in an auberge down near the seashore they discussed their latest lack of success. All efforts so far had been in vain. Nobody was able or willing to take the risk of going off his route with a man who was obviously in some way an enemy of the State.
The Count himself had taken his leave of the party earlier, to return to his domain, leaving several of his men to aid Cesare in Santander. He had not anticipated such difficulty as the party was now encountering.
Meeting for the umpteenth time to quaff ale in the little inn within sound of the waves breaking on the shore, Cesare and the Count's men were glum with failure.
“We'll have a last attempt,” Cesare said at last, downing his liquor and rising. “If it fails then there's one thing left?I'll have to cross the frontier into Navarre.”
“You run more risk on land than on sea.” “I run more risk still stuck here without hope of escape.”
They began, for the last time, to scour the bars and inns of the town, cutting it into sections, working methodically.
It was in a little tavern where everyone seemed to be slightly the worse for drink, that Cesare got what sounded like a hopeful tip. He had sat himself in a corner to take stock of those in the place, which was alive with noise and the clatter of tankards.
An old seadog, talkative with wine, flopped down on the bench beside him.
“I say that we're the freest of 'em all,” he said fiercely, not looking at Cesare, but apparently speaking to him as there was nobody else very near.
“If we don' like our wives we go on a long trip, if we do we go on a short 'un. We got fresh air and good pay an' all the world to see. What more?”
He turned to Cesare, beetling his thick brows, as if he expected argument. His eyes within their crinkled, sunburned lids were bright blue and ringed with little red veins and the yellow wash of age and liquor. His tankard sagged in his hand and there was a beer stain on his old black neckerchief.
“Quite right. Let me fill 'em up on it,” Cesare said, taking the tankard from his hand and calling to the skivvy who hopped around and tripped over sprawling feet.
“You'm a stranger. New face around here.”
It was a question and the man suddenly seemed soberer than first appearance would have suggested.
“Yes, looking for a boat to take me to France.”
“To France?”
The old man gazed reflectively as their filled tankards were set down on the rough table in front of them. He raised his, glanced over Cesare's clothes which were well-to-do although a disguise.
“Your health, sir.”
“And yours?and to the free life.”
“Aye. You'll get no boat going to France at this time.”
“I can pay well. It would be a good bargain.” The old man looked at him again, with his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You'm very anxious to get there.” “A matter of urgent business,” Cesare snapped. He was irritated at the man's irrelevant interest in his activities.
“Could be done, I suppose… could be done…”
“What can you tell me?” Cesare demanded. “It's very urgent.”
The old man considered, glancing around the tavern with eyes that seemed to have awakened completely from the half-stupor of liquor.
“Don't know as I ought,” he said. “Don't sound legal to me?what you're up to.”
“I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” Cesare snapped. “I'll make it worth your while to give me any useful information.”
“How worth.”
Cesare opened a pouch on his belt and threw some gold pieces on the table. The man's eyes glistened and he stared, fascinated, at the money. He put out his hand to pick them up and Cesare's hand closed on his wrist with a force which made him start.
“Not before you tell me what you have to say.”
The man stared at him. He was beginning to wonder with whom he was dealing. There was an authority about the stranger which, even in this familiar seaman's bar where every strong arm would be with him, made his spirit yield. “All right. Take them off the table.” Cesare grinned and swept the pieces off the table and onto the wooden bench between them.
“She's a ship-owner's widow,” the seaman explained. “Lives just on the outskirts o' the town. They say she likes a 'andsome man though she's nothin' to look at 'erself. There was some young duke came through here three year ago with a price on 'is head. 'E went and offered isself to her for work on one of 'er ships and she told him he could 'ave a job if he was nice to 'er.” The old man laughed coarsely. “Least thats 'ow the tale goes. Ain't nothin' can 'appen in a place like this without folks get to know about it afore long.”
“Where can this woman be found?”
But the old man had warmed to the lechery of his story.
“They do say she's real frustrated?her husband been dead for six year and none as she thinks are suitable as'll have 'er. They do say
…” he grinned lasciviously… “as she likes a little tickle with a rope afore she has 'er cranny stuffed.”
He guffawed suddenly in a tone which made the nearest people turn towards him and then grin before resuming their own conversation.
“But o' course if you was goin' to pay, anyway, you probably wouldn' 'ave to pander to 'er every whim.”
“Where can this woman be found?enough of your prattle!”
The seaman sobered down although his eyes were still alight with mirth at his humor. He picked up the golden pieces and slipped them quickly into a pocket as if he were afraid to be seen looking at them.
“For another such, I'll show ye.”
“Right, but quick about it.”
They left the inn and ambled at a pace which exasperated Cesare, through the narrow streets near the seashore. At last the man pointed out a large house on the corner of a narrow street, with a porch and steps over which shone a lantern.
“There?an' I hope you'm feelin fit and 'earty.”
Cesare caught him by the arm and held it with a grip which made the old man wince.
“Not a word about this to anyone,” he said, knowing that his words were probably useless. “I have men here and if you start shouting this around it'll be the worse for you.”
There was real startled fear in the old man's eyes.
“Aye, aye, sir,” he said. “I wouldn' want 'em to know as I'd got rich, anyway.”
He ambled off into the darkness and Cesare knocked at the door of the big house. Shortly Cesare was being ushered by one of what seemed to be many servants into the presence of the mistress of the house.
After he had explained his business, the woman relapsed into thought, toying with a cushion. He judged her to be about sixty or a little under. She had a commanding face and had probably once been quite beautiful. But now she had grown stout and flabby and the skin hung on her fingers like plain rings.