The military questions were terse, pointed and incisive.
"Tell us what force attacks the Citadel."
"We estimate at between ten and fifteen thousand. Croat light cavalry, Magyar heavy cavalry, Slav pikemen mostly. From what we could see."
"What cannon did they have?"
Benito scratched his chin. "Well, most of the enemy cannon were not ashore and deployed when I escaped. That was how we were able to effect a landing the previous day."
"How do you assess the Citadel's state of readiness for siege?"
"Sir, it is both good and bad. Provisions seemed adequate by what the captain-general said. But the fortresses were undermanned. The Citadel has nine hundred and fifty and the fortress on Vidos a further hundred and ninety. There were very few cavalry. In the region of fifty, perhaps. Of course, we added to that a bit."
"Well, that tallies with the known facts anyway," said one of the men. A portly one, that Benito was almost sure was Lodovico's friend Admiral Dourso under that mask.
"This will still have to be thoroughly investigated," said another sourly. "And now, thanks to the furor you've stirred up, Montescue, investigated in the full Senate and not in private. They're clamoring for news in the piazza and in the great hall."
Lodovico smiled wryly. "I've never really approved of the secrecy of the Council of Ten's doings anyway. Best to have this out in the open. I think there is less room for deception there. Come, boy. Let us go and face them."
The huge hall was crowded. Benito found himself looking at a number of expectant, worried faces. The Venice rumor mill was already working.
"Why are the bells being rung?" demanded one elegant Case Vecchie gentleman in the foreground. "Are we at war?" The hubbub of questions coming from the hundred and twenty members of the Senate—who, with all the other functionaries of state, had multiplied amazingly—was overwhelming. This many despite the short time? It was frightening. There must have been at least three hundred people there. Benito took a deep breath. It would probably be the great Council of a thousand five hundred members next . . .
A very badly played trumpet blast stilled the crowd.
"Quiet!" Lodovico returned the trumpet to an indignant young herald. "Valdosta can't be heard above this racket. First he will speak. Then I will allow questions. At my discretion."
Benito cleared his throat in the hush. "First, I am here to bring news. A Venetian possession, the Island of Corfu, has been invaded. The Straits of Otranto have been blockaded by Byzantine and Dalmatian vessels."
"That explains the paucity of trade," muttered one of the senators. "We haven't had a vessel in for weeks. There's normally a trickle of coasters at least."
"Invading our territory—"
Lodovico snatched the trumpet again and blew it discordantly. It was a sound to make brave men quail. Even being quiet was easier than listening to it again.
Benito went on. "The Citadel of Corfu is under siege. Emeric of Hungary is conducting the siege in person."
A senator at the front of the press of people raised a long arm. "Lodovico, I need to ask a question."
"Ask away, Enrico. That's the gist of Benito Valdosta's news, isn't it Benito?"
"Have Byzantines also attacked other Venetian territory? And what is the proportion of Emeric's forces as opposed to troops of the Holy Roman Empire?"
Benito was almost sure that this had been one of those questioning him a few minutes before. "I don't know about other Venetian possessions, milord. I was sent from Corfu to bring word. I traveled disguised as a fisherman—which is why I am dressed as I am now. We were intercepted by a Byzantine galley but were lucky enough to talk our way out of it. We had attempted to send two great galleys following different routes with the news, but I think we may assume that the blockade vessels captured them, as you had not heard the news from Corfu. As for troops of the Holy Roman Empire as opposed to Emeric's forces . . . Well, we think Emeric has between ten and fifteen thousand men—and he may be bringing more. We managed to land some two hundred Knights of the Holy Trinity under Prince Manfred of Brittany to add to the Citadel's garrison."
"Are you trying to tell us that Manfred of Brittany is inside the Corfu Citadel?"
Benito nodded, puzzled. "Yes. I traveled south with his convoy of galleys. We managed to effect a landing the day before Emeric's carracks arrived with his cannon."
The tall man raised himself up to his full height. "Valdosta. I cannot think what you thought you'd achieve with this—this—" He fumbled for words. "This complete farrago of lies!" He turned to the other senators. "My fellow Venetians. I must tell you that well-substantiated reports—"
"They're nothing but rumors, you fool!" shouted another, but the speaker plowed on:
"—have Manfred of Brittany—having left Corfu for Canea—stating how much he would like to make it a possession of the Holy Roman Empire."
It was Benito's opportunity to fumble for words "But . . . that's impossible. There is no way he could have gotten out of the siege."
The tall man looked at Benito with cold hauteur. "It has been carefully verified."
"What nonsense!" That came from the same senator who had tried to interrupt earlier. He began pushing his way to the front of the crowd. "Rumors, that's all! And there are hundreds of them, flying all over Italy ever since word came of the Emperor's illness!"
The crowd in the huge hall started buzzing with jabber. Then, at the back of the hall, someone cleared his throat. "If I may speak?"
It was an elderly voice, but carried well. The assembled crowd turned to look at the elderly Patriarch of Venice. He came forward through the crowd, slowly. He plainly had no intention of speaking from where he was. All the time he was slowly walking down to the front of the hall Benito's mind was in ferment. This tall lord . . . he thought his name might be Enrico Licosa—a Case Vecchie who had served in Spain, and also in Naples—was he a traitor? Had the attempt by Justice Capuletti to sentence him to death really been nothing more than bureaucratic maliciousness? Benito started looking for ways out.
The elderly Patriarch reached the front of the hall where Benito and Lodovico stood. He was old, stooped, white-haired and white-bearded. No danger, surely.
He advanced on Benito, determinedly. Benito began to wonder if he was right about the danger. Did you kick the head of the Church in Venice in the crotch if he tried to seize you?
The old man reached out both skinny arms for Benito.
And then embraced him, and placed a blessing hand on his head. "This is a specific instruction from the Grand Metropolitan in Rome himself," he said, loudly, for the benefit of the audience.
Well, thought Benito. This reduces my chances of being lynched. I'm not sure what it's all about, but it's welcome.
The Patriarch continued. "Know all of you that as far as we have been able to determine the island of Corfu is under siege with great magical forces concentrated on it. The practitioners of sacred magic in Rome have detected demonism at work here."