"Thank you for reminding me of our status quamdiu se bene gesserit," said the chief Justice, dourly. "It is something that few have the courage to do. Nonetheless I will continue to act as both the law and my conscience dictate."
The younger Justice shrugged. "That is what I am doing. The Law must find him guilty and sentence him."
"I think you should not stand down until we have decided what verdict we reach . . . and what sentence we will impose."
Spinosa shook his head. "I cannot do so afterwards. Thus I will do so before."
The chief Justice shrugged. "Very well. Can the rest of us withdraw?"
The remaining three judges did. And they returned very rapidly.
"Benito Valdosta," said the chief Justice. "We find you guilty by your own admission of the charge of threatened assault with a deadly weapon on an officer of this court. However, as circumstances must alter cases, we feel that under the circumstances your actions were justified. You are free to go."
* * *
Benito looked uncharacteristically grim, especially for someone who had essentially beaten the legal system to its knees. "I'm still going to confine myself to the Arsenal. Get myself involved in getting vessels ready. The Arsenalotti have already agreed to work double shifts."
"We rather thought you would come and stay with us," said Kat.
Benito shook his head. "To be honest, it suits me to be busy. What would I do in Venice, waiting around for an expedition to Corfu? Get drunk, chase women and get into more trouble? Best to follow Erik's regimen. Go to sleep so tired I can't stand."
"Well, grandfather wants to see you," said Marco. "He's with Lodovico, so I have no doubt you'll do some of that drinking. We'll visit you, Brother. Right now, though, the Hypatians seem to need us to make another attempt to contact Father Lopez." He didn't look very happy about it.
* * *
"Lodovico can call it Valdosta honor. But you're a Dell'este by blood," said the Old Fox.
Benito grinned wryly at both of the old men. "I'm a product of place, companions and blood. I'm a Valdosta by rearing, Grandfather."
"It's a fine house, even if that brother of yours is sometimes too good for this world," said Lodovico.
The Old Fox said nothing for a while. And then sighed. "You've come out very well, considering the likes of Aldanto and the part he had in your rearing."
Benito shrugged. "The bad I learned there got canceled out by my saintly brother and Maria, not to mention that granddaughter of Lodovico's."
"What happened to this Maria?" asked the Old Fox, casually. That casualness would have fooled most people.
"She's in the Citadel on Corfu now," said Benito quickly. "Married. And with a fine daughter."
Lodovico chuckled. "She's quite a young termagant, that woman. Between my granddaughter and her they were a pair to frighten any young man into the paths of righteousness. Not that it seems to have worked on you," he added, frowning fiercely at Benito.
"Well, I've still got some time in exile to go and to learn it." Benito was determined to get Maria out of the conversation, and quickly. "I want to lean on Petro to let me go back to Corfu as soon as possible. If I can let the defenders know somehow that Venice is coming, it'll do a lot for morale."
"True. But this blockade of theirs . . ." the Old Fox said, eyeing him with speculation. "It seems too good to be natural, boy."
Benito pulled a face. "Well, maybe we also need some unnatural help. I know Marco has had some traffic with undines and tritons. I'll talk to him. But I wanted to ask your advice, grandfather, on strategies. Erik Hakkonsen is conducting the campaign using the locals. I'm going to join him if I can. Talk to me. Tell me what works."
Chapter 63
The water trickled steadily into the rock bowl. Not in all the thousands of years that the faithful had tended the shrine here in the caves in the cliff, had that spring run dry. The holy pool remained full and still and drifted with the offering of flower petals.
Tonight there were more devotees than ever. The priestess looked around. The women from the Little Arsenal, smuggled in and hidden, were here in numbers. She was not surprised. The cult was mainly Greek, these days, although—as she proved herself—it did not make objection to foreign worshipers. The great Mother considered them to be women first; nationality was a secondary and unimportant thing. In troubled times, the Goddess knew that women came back to the old religion.
The priestess noticed that the devotees were looking thin and pinched—not starving, yet, but starvation was not going to be far away. She sighed. The women and children were always the first to suffer in sieges. And the women hiding away would be, if anything, worse victims than those who were legitimately within the walls. After the rite she would move to speak to them, to see if anything could be done.
The rite soothed her, and even seemed to give some comfort and courage to the other women. Enough so that when the priestess drew one aside as the rest left, she did not even get a token resistance to her questions.
"There are two of the guards," the woman said wearily. "They found where we women were hidden and now they demand some of the men's rations and money to keep their silence. They are selling food to those who have money. They were demanding sex, too, but some of the men said they would kill them, even if it meant discovery."
The priestess frowned. "We will see what can be done. Do you know the names of these two?"
The women nodded.
On the small black altar the half almond lay, unwithered, still waiting. The priestess looked at it and sighed again. There was power there. But it was not hers. It was not anyone's . . . without a price.
* * *
Stella had come over principally to gossip, but officially to see if Maria would sell her a few eggs. They were sitting in the kitchen because it seemed the place where Stella's smaller two could do the least damage. Maria looked on Stella's younger children—who were now engaged in an exercise in seeing how far they could try everybody's patience—as an experience that would put most women off motherhood. They were both little boys, and Stella let them get away with the kind of mayhem she plainly didn't tolerate in her older daughters.
There was a furious bleating from the goat, followed by a polite knock at the door. Maria went to it. Stella peered curiously around her shoulder—and gasped to see who the visitor was.
Contessa Renate De Belmondo did turn up on her charitable missions at any place she chose. Still, she was the first lady of the island, and this was a tiny Scuolo house—not where you would expect to find her.
She smiled as brightly as if this was a Case Vecchie mansion, while Stella made big eyes and backed up. "Maria, my dear, may I come in?"
Maria was more than a little flustered too, but she had her pride. With Stella watching, she had little option but to behave as coolly as she could, as if she entertained the governor's wife in her kitchen every day. She made her best attempt at a curtsey. "Certainly, milady. I am very glad to see you again."
Renate De Belmondo smiled and came in. "My dear, what a gorgeous rug. Where did you find it?"