Francesca chucked him under the chin. "I can't tell you how relieved this makes me."
Maria said nothing. She knew that talking to people who didn't have children about the subject was a waste of their time and her effort. Besides, it was hardly her business to go around urging parenthood on people. She certainly couldn't see Francesca with children. And truth to tell, at one time she'd thought she would not like to have any herself.
Instead, she decided to bring up something else that had been nagging away under the worry about Benito. She'd heard about it from Umberto and now had it refreshed by Lady De Belmondo. The food rations, even though they were barely into the siege, were already causing unrest.
"I met the podesta's wife at the gate. A delegation of women from the town is going to see the captain-general. She said she was going to keep the peace." Maria looked sidelong at Francesca. "From what Kat told me, you collect information. Maybe you already know all about this, but there is a problem about food."
Francesca smiled. "I trade in gossip, yes. I did know about the food. I didn't know about the podesta's wife. There is something of distance between me and 'respectable' women. They don't like to be seen talking to me. But tell me more. I'd like a female handle on what is happening out there."
"Lady De Belmondo is . . . different. She talks to anyone, and everyone talks to her; the guards at the gate said she can go anywhere without fear. And Lodovico Montescue was one of her suitors when she was young."
"The old dog probably made up to half the women in Venice," said Manfred lazily. "If the stories I've heard are anything to judge by, he was worse than I was." He raised an eyebrow at Maria. "Worse even than Benito. Anyway, I'll leave you women to chatter. I'm going across to see Falkenberg. And then I'll go and look at what Emeric is doing in the way of siege preparations. I need to keep an eye on that."
"Not without Von Gherens," said Francesca sternly. "I promised him I wouldn't let you go out without him, and I won't let you break my promises."
Manfred grunted. "All right, I'll collect my baby-sitter. He'll be pacing the hallway anyway." He went out, blowing a kiss to Francesca.
When the door latch had clicked closed behind him, Francesca turned again to Maria. "I'm glad you brought this up. I had wanted to come and talk to you about it anyway."
She paused for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. "I need to set up a network of contacts. Manfred and the Knights worry about what Emeric's army is doing out there. I worry about what is going on in here. In the few days since the siege began, I've established that the Citadel is overripe for internal troubles, which I think are more dangerous than the external army. This food story is just one aspect. I wanted to ask for your help. This place has limits as far as access is concerned."
Maria laughed, a little bitterly. "You have no idea! You might not be considered 'respectable' by the ranking women, but there isn't a man in this place who would dare to stop you from going anywhere you wanted to. Getting in here for me was quite difficult. I scarcely dare think how the ordinary Corfiote would be treated."
"Yes. And the problems in the Citadel, I think, will mostly come from the Corfiote citizens who are excluded." Francesca frowned, then focused intently on Maria. "I need people out there who can tell me what is going on. I need a place for them to meet me, that won't attract attention. I've some gold, and some favors to offer to them."
Maria looked at her thoughtfully. "Can you get out of here without drawing attention? Because if you can, I must introduce you to my friend Stella Mavroukis." Maria smiled. "She can talk the hind legs off two donkeys, but she knows everyone. She's been here for years, and she speaks Greek."
Francesca's eyes brightened with interest. "She sounds ideal. When can you organize this?"
"Tomorrow afternoon?" Alessia stirred in Maria's arms. "But now, I must go. Or you will get an experience of babies you won't enjoy."
Francesca was quick about showing her to the door.
Chapter 48
The rocks, in the paling predawn, were just visible by the lacing of foam around them. The wind was blowing spray off the water, leaving the descent greasy. The stony surface compared well to mossy pan-tiles in the rain, but it was steeper than any self-respecting roof would be. Benito decided the young shepherd guiding him had a great future in housebreaking, if he should need it.
Coming closer, Benito could now see that the rocks were twisted, shattered and sharp-edged, even in this poor light. That anyone would bring even a dingy in here, let alone a thirty-five-foot lateen-rigged fishing boat, seemed like insanity. Yet, there she was, snugged up beside a huge boulder. Someone was busy attaching a bush to her mast, the only bit that stuck out above the rock.
Benito whistled. Kosti nearly ended up in the cove. He dropped the bush. "Now, see what you made me do," he said grumpily.
"How do I get across?"
"There's a ledge of rocks over there. Time it right and you won't get too wet."
Benito paid off the guide, rolled his trousers up, and walked into the surge. The water was cold, and the mussels underfoot were sharp. He walked forward cautiously, his city-born imagination putting sharks and giant octopi in the dark water. Encountering seaweed nearly had him into the deeper water with a shriek. However, he reached the fishing smack's mooring without any ncidents. He pulled up onto the rock, and stepped into her. The smell nearly knocked him back ashore.
"Where is the skipper?"
"Where I'll be in a minute," said Kosti, finishing tying the bush to the masthead, just as the first rays of sunlight hit the mountain above them. "Under the sail. Asleep."
* * *
The sail had been made into a crude tent, and through the long, hot spring day, the crew slept. After an hour or so, Benito grew tired of the heat and the flies and waded back onto the shore and slept under a pine tree. He could see the open sea from here; and, waking during the day, he saw several patrolling Dalmatian galliots. But they didn't come close enough to the dangerous-looking rocks to spot the fishing boat. Even a land patrol would have to come very close to the edge of the near-vertical vegetation and crumbling limestone cliff to see her. The tough part was going to be avoiding being seen that night, once they were at sea.
* * *
The two men were overly well dressed for Paleokastritsa. They approached the table in the taverna diffidently. "Milord. We've heard a rumor that you came out of the Citadel."
Erik looked them over cautiously. The clothes, on closer inspection, had once been fine but showed signs of very hard wearing. Erik doubted that the Hungarians would have gotten around to using spies or informers . . . yet. "Why do you ask?"
The older of the two, the one with the neatly trimmed beard with hints of salt and pepper in the blackness, said grimly: "Milord, we're both Venetians who have estates here. Or, I should say, used to have. Our families have been killed and our homes burned. We want to know what is happening. We want the Republic's armies to sweep these Hungarian bastards into the sea. We've scouted along the ridgelines . . . all we can see is that the Citadel is under siege. There aren't that many men attacking."
"I just want to kill the bastards," said the younger one, morosely, his pudgy, neat hands forming themselves into fists.