* * *
They rode through the darkness; Benito, as usual, clinging to his horse and swearing. Horses, even the most docile-natured, like the one they'd mounted him on, seemed to know Benito was not a rider and that he was afraid of horses. They sensed his nervousness and that made them skittish . . . which made Benito worse.
"Doesn't it seem odd, Benito, that Caesare Aldanto is out here, instead of with the main army?"
"Damn this animal," said Benito, in his mildest comment so far. "He's probably out here up to no good, Erik. Someone to be murdered, or spied on, or stolen from."
"And who do you think that could be, my young friend?" asked Erik, dryly.
"You or me at a guess. Probably you. Of course, he probably doesn't know who he's hunting."
Erik cantered a few more yards in silence. "I'll grant him this. He was very good with a sword. And he's not afraid to use it."
"Good with a sword he was indeed," Benito acknowledged grimly. "And if I get a chance, Erik, I won't give him an opportunity to use it. He's a master of dirty fighting. And one of the things he taught me was to never try to be fair in a fight. Kill your opponent before he kills you."
He ground his teeth, angrily. "I intend to return the favor of that lesson."
* * *
Caesare Aldanto might have been far more successful at seizing control of the canals of Venice had he been able, then, to select men as he did now. But he had perceptions of their natures and ability now that he didn't have then. The men he'd brought along for this expedition were killers. The most effective he could cull from an army. He'd principally stuck with cavalry since moving fast would be of the essence.
The other four accompanying Ambrosino into the defile should all have been hanged long ago. In a proper army, with the discipline to take half-mad killers out of their ranks and dispose of them, they would have been. These four would not only cheerfully perform atrocities on the defeated and the peasantry of the defeated, they'd perform them on their own comrades if they got the chance.
They reached the first sentries. Ambrosino called the password.
"Who's that with you?" asked the sentry.
"New recruits. Good men all."
"We can use . . . ahh!"
And they moved on. The yellow dog pressed against his flank. They talked as minions of the same master did: without audible words. The shaman sniffed. The net-woman, she has been here, curse her name.
I'll deal with her. Or the troops will.
* * *
Erik looked at the fires, at the sentries, not quite lazy enough in the darkness, and peered through the gloom at the horse paddocks. Something prickled his awareness. He looked at the horse-paddocks again. It was like ice water running down his spine.
"There's something wrong here. That's half the number of horses reported."
Benito looked. "Caesare!" he took Erik by the sleeve. "Mount up now. Let's get out of here. This smells of Aldanto and ambush."
Erik nodded. "Tomorrow is another day. We've got him tagged now. The country-people will tell us where he goes. We'll choose the time, not him."
"Svan will be pleased to have us home, unbloody."
Somewhere in the distance a horn sounded. It didn't mean anything to them and it was a good distance away.
* * *
"The Vinlanders are in the cave to the south there." Ambrosino pointed. "The others use the caves lower down. The very bottom cave is water-filled. It's their water supply and something to be very careful of. The valley over there is where the horses are kept. It's another way out. They can also go over the back there, but only on foot."
"Guards on both?"
"Of course. Hakkonsen leaves nothing to chance."
"Except you." Aldanto turned. "Sylarovich. Bring the cavalry up to that point. Tell them that any man that even so much as allows a harness to clink is dead. You saw the exits. Split three units of twenty off the troop. When I sound the horn, they must ride as fast as possible for each exit. Kill any guards and seal them off from escapees. The other forty are to take the caves, especially the top one. And tell them about the lower cave. We should have at least an hour to clean this lot out before the rest come back from the camp, very pleased with themselves. We should surprise them nicely."
* * *
Full dark, and Erik's nerves were on edge. They rode into the narrow gully that Erik had designated sole entry to the camp. Erik, at the head of the file paused . . . waiting for the request for the password.
Silence. And then distantly, a scream. Arquebus and pistol shots.
"Ride!" yelled Erik. "Ride! All of you get out of here!" But he himself was spurring his horse frantically, riding into the defile. Kari and his brother took off after him as if their tails were on fire.
Benito turned to the rest. "You heard him. You—Alexander. Take some of the boys to the top way out. And Gino. The other half of you to the valley way."
Alexander hesitated, and his horse curveted and danced sideways. "We need to follow our captain."
Benito aimed a blow at him. "You need to obey his orders! Now move!"
"Alpha group will go with me," Giuliano said calmly. "Omega takes the bottom way, and Theta, you will ride around to see if survivors need help. If there is nobody there, dismount and set up an ambush. Lower the horse-barriers. They will not ride out of here." These were the groups used in raids. They were each twenty strong. They were used to working together and each had its section leaders.
Perhaps it was that, or Giuliano's calm that did it. The troop split fast. As soon as they were on their way Benito began kicking the horse, to get it to follow Erik and not the other horses. His will triumphed, to his surprise. Maybe the animal thought it was going to pasture down in the valley bottom. The stream had stopped flowing; but, thanks to the water-cave, they had water there and some grazing. Donkey loads of stolen Hungarian oats had added to that.
"Thalia, Georgio, Stephanos, Gigi, Marco. You will take the inner guard post. Stop any of them escaping and buy time for us if we need it to get out," said Giuliano Lozza, taking charge.
"Mikalos will go instead of me," said Thalia. "That calls for shooting. I can't shoot."
"Don't argue."
"Or what, master?" she said calmly.
"Please, Thalia." Giuliano wasn't quite begging.
"No."
Chapter 84
Svanhild had gone down to the horses, restless with a bright moon overhead. They were upset about something. She loved horses, and especially the steeds of the Magyar, which were superb. She'd talked with Erik about taking some home to the great plains beyond Cahokia. Apparently the Magyar steeds were bought from the Ilkhan and crossed with an old war-horse breed. She'd certainly never seen their like.
She walked among them in the moonlight, murmuring a bit of praise here, patting a neck or a flank there. Then she heard the thunder of galloping hooves. Erik must be back. So early? Something must have gone wrong. She gathered her skirts in order to run back toward the cave.
A group of cavalry thundered past her, heading for horse-paddocks she'd just come from. She ran for the cave and her brothers. She could see Bjarni, already out, sword in hand, running toward her, yelling and beckoning.