Nina set down her sewing. ‘You’ve never talked about your home, back in England, Jared. Will you be returning there after you’ve finished your gunnes?’
‘Who knows what the future will bring, mia cara,’ he said.
‘A man must have a place to call home, my sweet.’
Jared could see where the conversation was leading; he’d never really given it much thought but now was not the time to—
‘Che cavolo,’ he swore. ‘That Beppe – where’s my caudle, the lazy rascal!’
As if in answer there was a muffled crash from below. They looked at each other and laughed.
‘He’s taken in drink, dropped the whole lot and must start again.’
Nina smiled. ‘I’ll get another for you.’
In less than a minute a piercing scream from below shattered the stillness of the night. Heart thumping Jared hurtled down the narrow staircase. Nina was pressed back against the wall staring at the body of Beppe, lying in the remains of a caudle.
There was no blood. Had he fallen in a drunken stupor?
The eyes were open, fixed and staring. There was clearly no life in him.
‘Is he … is he …?’
‘Yes,’ Jared said, his mind in a furious whirl. It could only be poison – and in the caudle meant for him that Beppe had tasted to his cost.
But there could be another interpretation: that it had been arranged to show that he himself had poisoned the loyal servant to hide his lustful access to Giannina.
Nina wept, her hands to her mouth in horror.
At this hour they were alone in the house and whoever had done this thing might well be lurking about, preparing to move on them.
‘Go to our room and lock the door,’ Jared said, trying not to look at the corpse.
Nina ran upstairs with a sob.
Jared had to face the fact that someone out in the night was trying to eliminate him. Who? He needed time to think – but first he must get help.
What friends could he call on? Not Alonzo, he would never involve his friend in something like this. He needed someone with power, influence.
Like … like Corso Ezzolino, who’d more or less pledged his assistance.
He went to Nina, frightened and trembling in the bedplace. ‘I’m going to have to leave you alone for a little while. I go to seek help from Corso Ezzolino. Stay here and don’t move.’
There was no other way. She nodded tearfully, and buckling on his poignard Jared went out into the night.
It was cold and dark. Sudden scuttling movements were rats disturbed in their nightly scavenging – but this meant that there was no one else about.
Jared ran as quietly as he could to the corner and looked up the street. There were one or two lights abroad but the rest was impenetrable night. At least what was dark for him would be the same for any following after him.
He tried to recall where he’d been told the Ezzolino casa maestosa was located and remembered a tower that dominated the square. That was surely up this sharp incline and to the right. He broke into a lope and made the square and saw the outline of the tower with a torch ablaze and a sentry standing beneath.
Now he was faced with the task of not only rousing the young noble out of whatever bed he was in but getting some kind of help whose nature he hadn’t even considered.
The sentry looked bored and sleepy. ‘I have urgent tidings for il Conte,’ Jared said importantly. ‘He’s to be woken and told immediately.’
The man frowned, then leant back on the high wooden door and tapped it. Voices sounded querulously inside and a face poked out.
‘Who are you?’
‘Messer Jared of the signoria!’
It brought results but not what he was expecting. He was pinioned, rushed inside and thrust rudely into the gatehouse. The door was slammed in his face.
‘We’ll let il Conte know, inglese barbaro!’
Ezzolino came quickly, pulling his nightgown around him, alert and dangerous.
‘Messer Jared! What is it – tell quickly!’
The saints be praised – he’d taken it the right way. ‘Can we talk privily?’
It didn’t take long to put across the essence of what had happened and Ezzolino’s features hardened. ‘There’s a plot to kill you, to stop your gunnes, and I’ve a notion who’s behind it. For now you’re in grave danger.’
He shouted orders and armed men turned out to assemble in the inner courtyard. ‘Go with these back to your house, my friend, they’re under orders to guard you well. I’ll be with you presently.’
In a short time his house was surrounded and sealed off. Nina was still hiding in the upper rooms but safe and Jared breathed a sigh of relief.
Ezzolino arrived soon after with a torchlit procession of soldiers, in armour and with an extravagantly plumed helmet as though he was about to go to war.
He strode in and seeing the body, crisply ordered it to be taken away.
‘Should we not—’
‘The signore is not to be troubled with this, it is a not uncommon event.’
‘But—’
‘If Malatesta hears of this attempt on your life you will lose this house. He will seize you and place you under lock and key with none to have access. Is this what you want?’
Jared could only shake his head.
‘Then allow me to take charge of your safety. From this hour there will be posted in this lower floor ten soldiers. I will send a food and drink taster and your cook is replaced by one of mine.’
‘I thank you, but do you think all this will be necessary?’
‘For the creator of the means to take sweet revenge on the Perugians – nothing is too much.’
‘You said you knew who’d plotted this.’
‘I should rather say the many who would do this. Think on it. What you are doing threatens a number of people. One: that old warhorse Umberto di Campaldino. Does he want to see a noble knight brought down invisibly from a distance by a despicable peasant? No, better to put a stop to it before it takes root.
‘Another: your sly Giacomo Capuletti, leader of the popolo. He sees Malatesta with powers that cannot be contested. He no longer has to curry favour with the popolo for he need not fear them with his magic weapons. It will be absolute tyranny. Kill you and this will not happen.
‘And then these: Arezzo is seething with Perugian spies. They know or will soon find out what will shortly face them. What riches and rewards will fall in the hands of any who remove you, by whatever means!’
Jared sank to a chair in despair. For all his success with the huo yao he was now a hunted man and but for Ezzolino would probably now be lying in a ditch somewhere. It was a situation of his own making and he was trapped within it.
Alonzo said nothing but his face was troubled. They worked rapidly and within the week had a useable sample of the new gunne.
The yoke rest acted as a pivot from which the gunne could be aimed simply by bringing around the tiller butt, with the added advantage that greater range was possible – with no pretence at accuracy at all, hits could be obtained at considerably more than the hundred paces required.
Tired but content Jared gave the orders that began the making of the fifty gunnes.