The fortress was solid. The walls were thick. The approaches were built partially on a cliff. The round keep occupied the highest point, and it was surrounded by a curtain wall wide enough for a pair of sentries to patrol atop.
Eudocia looked at the map spread on Micer’s table. The drawing lacked detail, but they had nothing better. “I looked at the acropolis when we rode in. There’s probably enough tree cover to sneak a group close to the walls without being spotted by the watchmen, but that last stretch is exposed.”
“Getting close to the walls won’t be enough,” Gil said. “We have to find a way inside. Preferably a method that doesn’t involve a battering ram.”
“Fire worked when we took the town,” Micer said. “But their wall is taller, and I imagine most of the buildings inside the acropolis are stone. Fire is unlikely to spread swiftly there, and I doubt they’ll fall for the same tactics twice.”
“Do you know how many women and children are in the acropolis?” I asked. Trying to burn the fortress—even if it was unlikely to turn into a fast-spreading blaze—didn’t sit well with me. Cecilia might be inside, and I didn’t want her harmed.
“Most of the men who have families managed to get them into the acropolis. Some went to a church instead. I made sure my men respected the church as a safe haven.”
I nodded my approval.
The corner of Micer’s lips turned up. “I could hardly do otherwise after working with the archbishop of Thebes all those years ago. Atumano might decide to haunt me if I let my men sack the city too thoroughly, assuming he’s not completely absorbed in translating whatever books they have up in heaven.”
“Where are the entrances?” I asked. Any advance party would be most useful if they could take one of the entrances and let a larger group inside. The Catalans would watch the main gate too closely for anything but an all-out assault to have a chance of victory, but if there were a postern and if a small group could get inside and surprise the defenders, we might be able to avoid a more traditional—and more costly—attack.
Micer ran a hand over his bald head. “I know little about the acropolis. A few of the locals told me there’s a sally port, but they didn’t know where. They told me the gatehouse is extensive and the keep has thick walls but said nothing about the best way to get inside.”
Aban folded his arms across his chest. “It looks impossible.”
“There’s always a way in if you have the right information.” Eudocia tapped the map with her fingers. “But I don’t think we’re going to figure it out tonight.”
Micer nodded. “You deserve some rest, all of you.” We’d filled him in on most of what had happened since the Venetians had come into our bathhouse that fateful day, so he had a hint of what we’d been through. “Perhaps things will seem more promising in the morning.”
* * *
We ate our evening meal with Micer and his sergeants, and when we finished, Micer called over the young soldier who had led us from the city gates. “Stefano, I want you to find comfortable quarters for my niece and her friends. The townhome by the church of Agia Sofia that one of Zavall’s lieutenants abandoned a few days ago should do nicely.”
Stefano showed us the way. Townspeople headed home in the fading daylight. There might have been panic in the days previous, when the city switched from Catalan to Florentine hands, but now people went about their day like normal—except those who had escaped to the acropolis. The disappearing sun turned the tower orange.
Gil glanced in the direction I was looking. “Wondering how we can take it?”
“Something like that. Of course, if they’re all trapped in the acropolis, they won’t be bothering us in Thebes.”
“Not for now. But one of Micer’s men said the Catalans sent word to King Pedro, requesting reinforcements. If they hold out until more men arrive, the tide could turn.” Gil sighed. “It’s tempting to just leave and hope Micer can rout them without any help from us. But we might come to regret it.”
Gil was right. I just wasn’t ready for battle again, not so soon after our recent encounters. The last nine days had left me weary in body and heart. At least I’d sleep in a real bed tonight, with a roof to keep out the wind and no need to stand watch.
Stefano led us to a townhome of moderate size with warm-red tiles on the roof and a patterned courtyard shaded by fig trees. The main hall stretched along the north end of the complex, and a series of storage rooms flanked the courtyard to the east, with three bedchambers above them.
Gil and Eudocia retired early, but I coached Aban on the use of his crossbow until the sun’s light disappeared entirely. The previous owner of the townhome had left behind a nine men’s morris game, so we sat in the hall, and I taught Aban how to play. He picked it up quickly enough. By the fourth round, I was on my toes but managed to eke out another win. I expected him to win the next round, but he yawned. “I’m not used to standing guard for hours on end at night. And something tells me we’ll soon be involved in something that will make me glad for a little extra rest.”
“Our normal life in Thebes is fairly routine. One might even call it boring.” I ran my finger along the game pieces. “I miss the calm.”
“After we take care of your old enemies, maybe you can go back to the quiet life.”
“I hope so.” Having a brother around would make things different. Better, even if we were destined to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to convert each other. “I’m going to visit the church.” I wasn’t ready for sleep yet, and I wanted time to ponder.
Aban said good night, and I left the townhome for the church I’d seen when Stefano had led us to the commandeered home. Pale stones formed its walls, and red tiles formed its roof. Inside, a scattering of worshipers prayed. Kneeling was painful, but I did it anyway. Some aspects of my relationship with God were simple. I believed in Him. I trusted Him. Some aspects of my relationship with God were more complicated. I tried not to complain, but the physical pain and the loneliness were real, almost tangible, and sometimes the cumulative weight of carrying both for years on end was crushing. Now a fear of the future added to the burden.
I’d learned years ago that when I started to question God, the best action for me to take was to pray and thank Him for my blessings, so I began. I had expressed thanks for Gil, Eudocia, Aban, Sebastie, and Captain Ignatios when a cloaked figure knelt beside me. The chapel was empty enough that there was no need to crowd, so I glanced to see what stranger had felt the need to kneel so close to me. The hood of the cloak was drawn forward, leaving the face a dark shadow.
Then I recognized the perfume.
It wasn’t a stranger.
It was Cecilia.