The next morning, Gianni woke to shouted commands and the sound of tramping. He leaped from his bed, ran to the window, and saw Gar, in the center of his father's wagon yard, barking orders to eight men who were marching in two rows of four-the four vagabonds and four of Papa's drivers. Gianni stared, then pulled on his clothes and dashed out into the courtyard. He came up to Gar, panting, "Why didn't you tell me? I want to learn this, too!"

"Very good, very!" Gar nodded. "Find a pole to put over your shoulder, Gianni, and step into line!"

Gianni ran to fetch a pole, then slowed, frowning. "What's the staff for?"

"To represent a spear or halberd-I'd rather teach them drill without the real weapons, so they don't cut each other's heads off every time they turn about."

"Economical," Gianni said judiciously. "But what's the point of teaching them this marching, Gar?"

"About face!" Gar cried, just in time to keep the men from tramping head first into the wall. As they turned back, he said to Gianni, "It teaches them to act together, instantly upon hearing a signal, so that an officer can send them where they're needed in battle, and have them point their spears in the right direction in time to keep the enemy from stabbing them." He flashed Gianni a conspiratorial smile. "It also mightily impresses Council members."

Gianni stared at him, amazed at such duplicity in Gar. Then, slowly, he smiled.

"Master Gianni!"

Gianni turned. A boy came running up, panting. "The sentries at the land gate, Master Gianni! They say there are four men there, four strangers, who claim you will vouch for them, to let them enter the city!"

"I will indeed." Gianni smiled. "Thank you, lad." He pressed a coin into the boy's palm. "I'll go and fetch them right away." He turned to Gar. "I will join your marching, Gar-but I'll bring you four more recruits first."

"Give them my compliments," Gar said, grinning, and turned back to bark a command, then swear as the back row had to duck to avoid the tips of the front row's staves. Gianni went back inside, marveling at Gar's high spirits-he enjoyed the strangest things.

Gianni took the time to straighten his clothes and shave, fortunately fortunately because, as he crossed the Piazza del Sol, he saw a Gypsy caravan drawn up beside the ca.n.a.l. His pulse quickened, and he veered toward it like a compa.s.s needle swinging.

There she was, sitting under an awning propped out against the side of the caravan, reading a goodwife's palm. She glanced up and must have recognized Gianni, for her eyes widened, and she stared at him for a brief second. Only a second; then she was staring down at the woman's hand again, and Gianni had to stand and fidget until she finished. He glanced up apprehensively at the line of men and women lounging and chatting with one another as they waited their turns to hear their fortunes-but when the housewife smiled happily, paid Medallia, and rose to leave, Gianni was up to the table like a shot, ignoring the outraged cry behind him. "G.o.dspeed, fair Medallia."

She looked up, perfectly composed now. "Good day, Gianni Braccalese. It is good to see you safely home."

Only "good"? No more than that? Gianni tried to control a ma.s.sive surge of disappointment, and had to force his smile to stay in place. "It's a joy to see you returned to Pirogia. To what do we owe this treat?"

"Why, to good business," Medallia said easily, waving at the line of waiting customers. "If you will excuse me, Signor Braccalese, I must tend to my shop."

Signor! "Of course," Gianni said slowly. "But when you're finished . . . may I meet you here in the evening, to chat?"

"Do you wish your fortune told?" She looked up at him with wide, limpid, innocent eyes.

Not unless you're my fortune, he thought. Slowly, he said, "Why ... yes, I suppose I do."

"I shall be here all of today until sunset, and tomorrow too," she said. "You may have to wait your turn, though. Good day, Signor."

"Good day," he muttered and turned away, his face thunderous. It was strange how the sunlight no longer seemed so bright, even stranger how stupid his fellow citizens suddenly appeared, chatting and laughing, completely at ease, while Fate rolled toward them with the thunder of the hooves of an army. Didn't they realize the enemy was nearly at their gates? Didn't they realize their freedom, their prosperity, their very lives might soon be snuffed out at a lord's whim?

No. Of course not. No one had told them.

Gianni resolved that he must make an appointment to speak to the Council again at once, that very day if possible! The fools would see, they must see! And blast Medallia for pretending that he meant no more to her than any other customer, anyway!

But what if he didn't?

CHAPTER 12.

Gianni tried to shrug off his gloom as he went to greet his companions. He told himself that Medallia was only one pretty woman among many, and one he hadn't even come to know very well-but he was amazed at how little the thought cheered him, and at how much his fancy had fastened upon her. But he forced a smile and waved at the guards at the inner gate, even managing to exchange a few cheerful remarks, and was able to put on a good show by the time he reached the land gate. He saw Vladimir, Estragon, Rubio, and Bernardino, and called, "You lazy layabouts, you idle road walkers! What makes you think you're good enough for Pirogia?"

They leaped to their feet, Rubio the merchant reddening with anger-until they saw Gianni and laughed, coming forward with open arms. He embraced each of them, surprised at how the greetings of these relative strangers cheered him.

"It's intolerable, Giorgio!" Rubio said indignantly. "They tell me they can't trust a man from Venoga!"

"Yes, but if you had come with a goods train behind you, they would have let you in quickly enough," Gianni a.s.sured him. "Besides, they're pulling your leg-I argued that out with them yesterday." Rubio stared; then a slow grin spread over his face. He turned to the two guards, who had rolled up their eyes, watching the sky in innocence. "You scalawags! You've no more hospitality than your friend Giorgio here!"

"And no less, either," Alfredo a.s.sured him. "But who is Giorgio? I see only Gianni."

Rubio turned to Gianni in shock, and so did the other three-but Gianni only smiled apology and said, "Forgive me, friends, but the lie was necessary. The prince had set a price on my head."

"A price?" The thief frowned, "I should have heard about this! What's your full name?"

"Gianni Braccalese."

Estragon stared; so did Vladimir. Rubio and Bernardino looked from one to the other, at a loss. Gianni felt a perverse sort of pride.

"Yes," said the thief, "I had heard of you indeed! Oh, if I had known who I was traveling with, I would have walked alone!"

"We were safer together," Gianni a.s.sured him, "and will be in the future, too.

Come in, come in and accept my mother's hospitality! Then, if you wish, you can join our new army ... I mean . . ." He glanced uneasily at Vladimir, then away, ashamed of himself.

"Perhaps not a soldier, but from what I know .of armies, they can find some use for me," the lame man a.s.sured him. "Take me to your general, Gianni. Let him decide."

Gianni grinned and clapped him on the back. "There's no general yet, but only our old friend Gar-and yes, I think he'll find a place for you. Come in."

Mama Braccalese welcomed the quartet with full hospitality, though she was a little put off by the beggar and the thief, and accorded them a hot tub each as her first gesture of welcome. Gar did indeed a.s.sure the beggar that there would be work enough for him as a quartermaster, but for the time being, he should learn the trade of a fletcher, learning the making of crossbow bolts and the compounding of gunpowder for the cannons.

As they were finishing a late and rather large breakfast, Gianni's father came in, his face grim, but his eye alight. "The Council will hear you tomorrow, Gianni-and I think they will listen more closely, now that so many have lost good trains. But who are these?"

When the introductions had been made and his welcome extended, Papa took Gianni aside and said, "Be sure that you practice what you're going to say to the Council-but first, walk about the city and sense its mood. I know our people seem their usual cheerful selves, but there's an undertone of concern there. Everyone knows that things aren't the way they should be, though no one's sure what's wrong yet." So that afternoon, Gianni went for a stroll in the market, then along a ca.n.a.l and down some small rivers, crossing bridges and listening to conversations. His father had been right-there was tension there, and rumors were flying. People were doomsaying left and right. A grocer near the Bridge of Smiles was telling a customer, "Truly, the beards on the grain are much longer than usual, and the butcher tells me the goats' hair and the sheep's wool is much thicker than ever he has seen! It will be an early winter, a long and hard winter, mark my words!"

"I'll mark them." His customer tried to look skeptical, but didn't succeed very well.

Along the River Melorin, he heard two housewives gossiping as they walked along with their shopping baskets on their arms. "I feel it in my bones, Antonia! Fever is rising from the water! It will be a plague such as the Bible tells of, or I know nothing of healing!"

"I could believe that your bones know," her neighbor scoffed, "but if there's to be any plague in this city, it's more likely to come from the gutters than the waters."

Her eyes were haunted, though, and Gianni could see she didn't doubt that a plague might be due. The day seemed more chilly suddenly, and he hurried on.

By the waterfront, he heard an old sailor telling some boys, "Aye, a sea serpent, lads! Saw it myself, I did-a long skinny body sticking up from the water, way up, way way up, with a small flat head atop."

"It wasn't a very big sea serpent, then," one of the boys said, disappointed.

"Oh, it was huge! The head was only little when you saw it atop so huge a neck! It was half a mile off if it was an inch, and we blessed our luck when it turned and went from us! But they won't be turning away from ships this year, oh no! All kinds of monsters will rise from the sea, aye, and chase after our ships, to drag them down!"

The boys moaned with the delight of safe fear, their eyes huge-but a young sailor pa.s.sing near overheard the old salt and frowned, then hurried off, his brow furrowed.

Gianni began to feel alarm himself-the people were claiming everything bad about the future except the real danger. If they weren't told the truth soon, if these rumors weren't quashed, the city would shake itself apart.

As the sun was setting, though, he turned his steps back toward the Piazza del Sol, his pulse quickening-but the market stalls had been shuttered, and the caravan was gone. For a wild, crazed moment, he thought of searching the city for the brightly colored wagon, then remembered that he had already been roaming for hours, and that there were so many islands that even those that could be reached by the network of bridges would take him a week and more to search thoroughly. Heavy-hearted, he went home, to be cheered by the presence of his new friends.

After supper, Gar took him aside and asked, "You talk to the Council tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, if I can think of what to say," Gianni answered.

Gar shrugged. "Tell them the plain truth-what you've heard, and what you've seen. If they give you any trouble, introduce me again. I a.s.sure you, with what I know now, I can scare them as badly as the worst brimstone-breathing preacher."

Gianni grinned and promised he would.

But that night, the swirling, dancing figure illuminated his dreams again, glowing more brightly than ever she had before. Gianni Braccalese! she called. You must tell them to flee, Gianni!

Do not flee from me, I beg you, he pleaded in his dream.

Silly boy! she flared. Can you think of nothing but love? But her voice trembled when she said it. Think of your fellow citizens instead! You cannot even dream of the might the lords shall bring against Pirogia when they unite all their armies- or of the horrendous engines of death their far-traveling merchant allies will lend them! There is no hope of victory, none! You must persuade all your fellows to flee!

To leave Pirogia? Gianni cried, aghast. He had a brief, lurid vision of the beautiful bridges burning and falling, the elegant houses tumbling into the bright piazzas as flames burst from them while Stilettos ran from house to house, looting them of gold and plate and crystal and paintings, and smashing what they could not carry. No, never! We cannot desert our Pirogia!

If you do not, you shall die, you shall all die! The dancer stilled, her hands upraised, pleading. You must abandon the city, Gianni, all of you!

They wouldn't listen to me even if I told them that. Gianni felt a hardening and crystalizing of purpose as he said the words. Our only hope of protecting our wives and mothers is to arm ourselves and fight!

You cannot! she wailed.

Don't put too much faith in the princes, Gianni told her. At sea, they're weaker than any fisherman--and no army can march across the water to Pirogia. No, dry your tears, I beg of you--and let me see your face.

Never! The veils began to swirl again. Can you think of nothing but l.u.s.t, Gianni Braccalese? Nothing but love, he corrected, for I have loved you with a burning pa.s.sion since first I saw you. Have you indeed? she said acidly. And what of the Gypsy maiden Medallia? Does she interest you not at all?

That brought Gianni up short, and on the horns of the dilemma, he took refuge in truth. She too has captured my fancy. Yes, it could be love, if I could come to know her.

You've not come to know me!

More than Medallia, he corrected, for I have never been alone with her.

But long to be, I'm sure! How fickle you are, Gianni Braccalese, how inconstant!

How can you love two women at once?

I don't know, Gianni confessed, but I do. He had never thought himself to be so base as to betray one love for another, but found that he did. Was he no better than any of the other strutting bucks about town? Were all men so shallow? I do not understand it, but it's there. Please, O Beauty, let me come to you! He willed himself to move toward her, and seemed to be beginning to do so when she snapped, Never! and whirled her veils high to hide herself as she began to recede, flying from him at an amazing rate, shrinking smaller and smaller until she was gone, leaving him alone in darkness, with his dreams empty.

Gianni waked feeling fuzzy-headed and filled with grit, as though he had drunk far too heavily the night before, when in fact he had tasted only a single gla.s.s of wine. "That's what comes of dreaming of women you can't have," he growled at himself, and rose to wash and shave.

With breakfast improving his mood and his best clothes on his back, he entered the Council chamber beside his father, Gar looming behind both of them. They entered a hall filled with consternation.

"Have you heard?" A jowly burgher confronted Papa Braccalese. "Prince Raginaldi marches on the city from the north, with thousands of men!"

Both Braccaleses stared. The first thing Papa could think of to say was, "How do we know?"

"Old Libroni's chief driver brought the word back, along with the tale of how a band of Stilettos had reived him of his whole goods train and left him for dead!

Oh, he is in frightful condition-emaciated, with bruises and crusted wounds!

None doubt his word."

Papa cast a quick look of vindication at Gianni, then said, "Many thanks, old friend. Come, let's find our seats."

They went on into the hall, hearing voices on every side: "Conte Vecchio marches from the west with a thousand men!"

"The Doge of Lingretti marches from the south with two thousand!"

"The Stilettos are marching three thousand strong from Tumanola!"

"The Red Company are marching with two thousand!"

"Pirates!" a messenger shrilled, running into the hall and waving a parchment.

"Captain Bortaccio says he had to run from a fleet of pirates! He lost them in a low fog by sailing against the wind, but they come in a fleet of thirty!"

The clamor redoubled at this news, and the Maestro began to strike his gong again and again, crying, "Councilors! Masters! Quiet! Order! We must discuss a plan!"

"Plan?" shouted a bull-throated man in velvet. "There can be only one plan-to flee!"

"We cannot flee!" Old Carlo Grepotti was on his feet, eyes afire, trembling. "By land or by sea, they shall cut us down and take us all for slaves if we flee! We can do nothing but stay and pray!"

"We can fight!" shouted a younger merchant, and a roar of approval answered him. The Maestro pounded his gong again and again until they quieted enough for him to hear himself call out, "Sit down! Sit down, masters and signori! Are we fishmongers, to be brawling over a catch? Sit down, as befits your dignity!"

Many faces reddened, but the merchants quieted and sat down around the great table. The Maestro nodded, appeased. "Braccalese! This meeting is called at your request! Have you any news that will help us make sense of this whole hornet's nest?"

"Not I, but my son," Papa said. "Gianni, tell them!"

Gianni stood up-and almost sat right down again; his legs turned to jelly as he stared around him at the host of grim, challenging faces, the youngest of them twenty years older than he. But Gar muttered a reminder-"You've faced Stilettos"-and it did wonders for Gianni's self-confidence. His fear didn't vanish, but it receded a good deal.

He squared his shoulders and called out, "Masters! Again I took a goods train out, this time northward into the mountains-and again we were beset by Stilettos, and our goods train lost. My guard Gar wandered with me till some Gypsies gave us clothes, food, and a place to sleep-but when they thought we slept, the Gypsies talked among themselves. They were false Gypsies, spies"-he hoped he was right about that "set to encourage the lords to unite to crush us merchants!"

The hall erupted into uproar again, and Gianni looked about him, leaning on the table, already feeling drained, but quite satisfied at the emotion he had brought forth. The Maestro struck the gong again and again and, when quiet had returned, fixed Gianni with a glittering eye and asked him, "Why should Gypsies care whether we live or die?"

"We couldn't understand that, either, Maestro," Gianni said, "until we encountered a glazier on the road, who told us of a conversation he had overheard-a conversation between Prince Raginaldi and a dour, grim merchant from very far away who could barely speak the tongue of Talipon, but who offered the prince a scandalous price for orzans."

"Scandalous price?" Eyes glittered with avarice. "How scandalous?"

What was the cost of power for a small city, anyway? For that matter, what was such power? Gianni improvised, "Three months' profit from ordinary trading."