Siege

'Welcome home, Master Longo — praise God that you are alive! We had feared the worst after your long absence. Will you be staying the night? May I bring you food, wine?'

'No, Jacomo, thank you,' Longo said. 'Bring me a horse, and two more for Tristo and William. We will be riding on to the villa immediately.'

'To the villa!' Jacomo's eyebrows rose in alarm. 'Shall I send a messenger ahead of you so that all will be ready when you arrive?'

'That will not be necessary. I expect we will ride faster than any messenger.' Jacomo wrung his hands. He was obviously anxious to warn the villa chamberlain, Nicolo, of Longo's arrival. Longo wondered what Nicolo was up to. Making trouble as usual, no doubt.

The villa lay just three miles outside the city, set in the foothills overlooking Genoa and surrounded by fields and vineyards. They reached Longo's lands shortly after nightfall and tied their horses off in the vineyards behind the villa. The vines, to Longo's satisfaction, had thrived while he was away, but they occupied only a small portion of his mind now. 'Quiet,' Longo warned Tristo and William. 'Let us see what my good chamberlain Nicolo has been up to in my absence. Tristo, I give you leave to stay in your cottage tonight. I will see you on the morrow.' Tristo moved away quietly towards his cottage, while Longo and William proceeded on foot towards the villa.

The villa was well lit, and as they approached, Longo and William could hear laughter and music. They saw no one as they crept through the vineyard, save for one drunken reveller stumbling off into the vines to urinate and singing loudly: Give me a girl to call my own, Yes give me a girl I pray. Give me a wench to ply my bone, For which I'll gladly pay!

The villa was surrounded by a wall some six feet high. Longo mounted it and pulled William up after him. From there, they could see the run of the gardens: fountains, carefully tended paths, hedges and people everywhere. Longo's servants were stumbling about the grounds, singing bawdy songs and entertaining a host of overly made-up, buxom women in garish clothes — many of them whores, no doubt. Here and there men were slinking off into the hedges, pulling women after them. The festivities extended to the villa proper, where Longo's personal musicians had been recruited to provide music and were busy churning out local folk tunes on their viols, lutes and recorders.

Longo and William dropped to the ground, and Longo led the way through the drunken revellers. At the steps of the villa, one of the musicians recognized Longo and, turning palest white, dropped his instrument and hurried off into the darkness. One by one, the other musicians also stopped playing, and as the music faded, all eyes turned to Longo. Gasps filled the silence. One of the more drunk men bent over and vomited. A portly man carrying a bottle of wine exited the villa singing and, upon seeing Longo, froze. 'Merda!'

'Good-evening, Anselmo. I see you are having quite a celebration.'

'Yes, My Lord,' Anselmo mumbled. 'It is Candlemas, My Lord. And, and…' A flash of inspiration came into the drunken man's eye. 'And, we were drinking to your safe return!'

'Of course. Where is Nicolo?'

Anselmo swallowed hard. 'I believe he's in your bedroom, My Lord.'

Longo nodded. 'Anselmo, clean this mess up. William, stay here and keep an eye on him and the others. Don't let them drink any more wine. Feel free to carve up any man who disobeys you.' William drew his dagger and leered wickedly at Anselmo. Longo strode into the villa entrance hall, up the curving marble staircase and into his bedroom. He found Nicolo in bed, naked, with two equally naked, voluptuous young women feeding him grapes.

'Who dares disturb me!' Nicolo roared as he sat up. Then, upon seeing Longo, he swallowed a grape whole and choked on it. The women took one glance at Longo's glowering face and sword and hurried from the room. Longo remained silent while Nicolo struggled with the grape, his face turning first red, then faintly purple. Finally, the chamberlain coughed out the grape and immediately burst into speech, forcing words out between giant, heaving breaths. 'So good to see you, My Lord…' Gasp. 'Had feared you dead…' Gasp. 'Apologize for the mess…' Gasp. 'Such an unexpected pleasure…'

'I see you have been taking good care of my home,' Longo interrupted. 'Tell me, was the wine good this year?' He picked up one of a score of empty bottles at the foot of the bed and sniffed at the dregs. 'Surely you must be thoroughly familiar with last year's vintage. Did the nebbiolo take?'

'Yes, My Lord, most magnificently. You must have a taste.' Nicolo looked about him for a full bottle, but finding none, continued, 'The harvest was excellent. I doubled the size of the herd and have acquired an adjoining vineyard from… my good God!' Nicolo was cut short in his account by the distant, wailing scream of a woman who was either terribly frightened or extremely happy. The scream rose to an unbelievably high pitch and then stopped abruptly.

'You were saying?' Longo prompted.

'Yes, a vineyard,' Nicolo mumbled. 'It was from a merchant. Ridolfi was the name.'

'Was it?'

'Yes. But you have said nothing of these, uh, these festivities. You are not angry with me, My Lord?'

'Why would I be angry with you, Nicolo?' Longo asked. He tossed the bottle he held aside, and Nicolo jumped as it shattered on the floor. 'You seem to have everything well in hand. Now come, you must show me the grounds. I am particularly interested to see the fields. I noticed they have not yet been ploughed. We shall see to that tomorrow.' The scream Longo and Nicolo had heard had come from Tristo's cottage, where his wife, Maria, was both terribly frightened and extremely happy. Tristo had crept silently to the door of the tiny, one-room dwelling, and pausing there, he was not surprised to hear two voices inside instead of one. A man was saying soft and low, 'Magnificent, beautiful. I shall buy you ten more,' while a woman answered with delighted laughter. Tristo screwed his face up into an expression of righteous indignation. He tested the latch, and finding the door unlocked, allowed it to swing open. On the table before him lay a partially eaten feast: a roasted pheasant, various cheeses and three bottles of wine. A fire was crackling in the hearth. And there on the bed lay his wife, partially dressed in a frilly, silken dress, and laying in flagrante delicto with a half-naked man that Tristo had never seen before. It was upon seeing Tristo looming in the doorway, his face a mask of outrage and anger, that Maria had begun to scream. Taking her outburst as a sign of unparalleled delight, the strange man, his back to Tristo, increased his efforts with renewed vigour.

Maria was still screaming when Tristo grabbed the man by the nape, lifted him clear off the bed, and sent him flying out the open door. At once, the scream ceased. 'Thank God you're here,' Maria cried to Tristo. 'That vile man was having his way with me!'

The man rose as quickly as he could with his breeches still around his ankles, and hobbled to the door, outraged. 'Having my way with you! What are you talking about, Maria? Who is this man?' Tristo slammed the door shut in the man's face, bringing an abrupt end to his tirade.

'Having his way with you, eh? Who was he?' Tristo sat down at the table and helped himself to a glass of wine. The look of outrage had vanished from his face, replaced by a cheerful smile. He paused to take in the lacy dress his wife was wearing. 'Nice dress.'

'You like it?' Maria smiled and adjusted her dishevelled clothes. She was a big-boned, well-endowed woman, pretty rather than beautiful, with long black hair and a mischievous smile. 'He was nobody. Just some merchant from town. You can hardly expect me to defend myself when you're away, Tristo. Especially for two years! And you could at least have the courtesy to knock. Christ, you scared the liver out of me. I thought you were a ghost, standing there in the doorway looking like Lucifer himself.'