The guards shoved Valentino on a stool. He teetered upon the thing’s three loose legs. While he was off balance, one guard swiftly slid the chain through an iron loop in the floor and padlocked it in place. He knew to act fast with this prisoner.
The coarse fellows lumbered off to other duties and left Valentino shackled just out of reach of a small desk. Quills and an ink bottle occupied the desk ready to record the pleadings of the guilty.
He squinted at the windows set high in the thick stone wall. The daylight hurt his eyes, but he savored the chance to see the sky.
When he heard footsteps approaching, he wiped his watering eyes with the back of his hands, taking care not to scrape his now pale face with the rusty edges of his thick manacles.
The door swung open, and his lawyer came in briskly. Polished black leather shoes with high heels and oval brass buckles clicked lightly because Tobias Dorn had a spring in his step as if he did not oversee the grim business of a prisoner accused of heresy and insurrection.
“Good Morning,” he said while glancing to make sure that the padlock was shut over the chain. Sitting, he opened his leather folio and scanned the documents within. “Valentino del Sangoro,” he said.
Valentino clenched his teeth, hating to watch the lawyer look up the name of the man who had paid him with the last of his worldly wealth to represent him before the court. In exchange for Valentino’s rapier and pistol, a Jewish pawnbroker had provided the gold florins necessary to make the lawyer pretend to defend him.
Tobias shifted his cloak off his arms and read through the papers in front of him. Valentino stared at the thick silver pin at the man’s shoulder that secured the cloak of thick wool trimmed in black silk. He wondered if such a thing could pick the lock on his cell.
“I’ve had a chance to talk about your case with the prosecutor and the justice minister,” Tobias said. “I’ve done my best.”
“Really?” Valentino said. His voice was weak from disuse. He supposed he should start babbling and ranting like some of the other wretches in the cells next to his. He doubted very much that the lawyer’s “best” was going to impress him.
Tobias took a moment to observe the big man before him. Imprisonment had starved him down to a lean man with pale skin over hard muscles. Dirt dragged at the curls of the prisoner’s long dark hair, and his beard was spreading like unpruned grape vines.
“These conversations are never easy,” he said.
Valentino growled lightly before silencing himself. He did not want to be dragged back to his cell prematurely because of a wrathful outburst. The tenderness of his persistent rib bruises urged him to forgo another battle with the gaolers.
Tobias cleared his throat. “You’re a literate man, so I know that you understand the gravity of the charges against you. I heartily recommend that you accept this offer that I’m bearing to you from the prosecutor.”
“And what’s that?” Valentino asked. A spark of hope startled his constant despair as he imagined that some merciful crumb had fallen from the plate of justice.
“You’ll have a swift death by beheading if you sign your confession,” Tobias said as if announcing that Valentino had just been accepted to a prestigious university and had a promising future ahead of him.
“Hmmm,” Valentino managed. After months in a dungeon, laying his head on the notched block of the State’s authority had some appeal.
“There’s no shame in putting your name to this confession. We both know that this document contains only truth. We’ve sworn testimony from witnesses who said that you’ve contracted military services for Protestants for years.”
“Do I get no credit for the battles waged for Papists?” Valentino asked.
“Ah...no,” Tobias said, indifferent to Valentino’s early days as a mercenary among Italian princes before seeking fresh fortunes in Bohemia.
Definitive responses from a lawyer were never good, and Valentino supposed that he should just make the final arrangements with his sorry fate.
But his pride refused to stop fighting. He might find some redemption if that lawyer had to spend his gold on crutches.
Tobias recognized this recalcitrant passion that inflamed so many of the rebels and heretics that he had processed. After heaving a sigh, he leaned forward and reminded his client of the facts most earnestly.
“Valentino, if you don’t sign, they’ll torture you. My petitions for you have been all that’s prevented it so far. I’ll make sure you get a priest for last rites. Accept your swift death by the axe. I do implore you.”
“You implore me?” Valentino said, mocking the notion that Tobias cared.
“Not everyone gets this type of chance,” Tobias said.
“I’m well aware of my good fortunes,” Valentino groused, but then drew himself up proudly. While he had breath in his body, he intended to fight for his life.
“Write another petition offering ransom to the crown. Offer the terms that upon acceptance of payment I’ll go into exile,” Valentino proposed.
Exasperated, the lawyer said, “The ransom is not coming. Your noble father knows better than to squander his reputation on his Protestant bastard. We’ve been sympathetic to your noble blood, but your fantasies about a ransom will no longer entice imperial patience.”
Valentino had to look away and shut his eyes as he struggled to master his emotions. The abandonment by his father stung immensely. Although a bastard, he had enjoyed some favor. His father had educated him and often remarked that Valentino was a son of finer quality than those birthed by his wife and not the peasant girl who had to accept the advances of her lord.
Regaining his determination, Valentino proposed, “There’s no need for the crown to spill my talents at the block. Men will follow me. I’m trained in warfare. I’ve proven myself in many battles and skirmishes. I could do much for Duke Osmount. I’m not hobbled by old-fashioned notions. I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
“We know that you’ll stoop to any deed, even aiding rebels against Holy Mother Church,” Tobias criticized.
“Take my offer to the Duke!” Valentino demanded.
“He’s well stocked with fighting men both brilliant and brutish. You’ve nothing special to offer him,” Tobias said.
“As if you could be the judge of such things,” Valentino muttered.
“Sign your confession. Go to your peace,” Tobias urged gently.
“My peace!” Valentino thundered but then hung his head. His emotions swung between valor and despair too easily, and his will to live puddled into self loathing because of the wife and child that he had failed so immediately and completely. There was no peace for him.
In a smaller voice, he said, “Can’t you delay things until after Saint Nicholas’ Feast and Christmas. I’m sure no one wants to deal with tortures and executions during the holidays.”
Sarcasm had prompted his suggestion, but Tobias surprised him by saying, “Well, I suppose.”
Startled by the tiny victory, Valentino looked up to see if the lawyer was only teasing him, but Tobias continued, “An execution right after the holidays would be a good reminder to the people about the way things are after all the peace and love nonsense.”
“Exactly,” Valentino agreed. “And I’ll have more time to hear back about the favors I’ve called in.”
Tobias frowned at the piteous statement. “Valentino, we both know that no one you contacted will or can pay your ransom. You’ve no more favors to call in.”
The baleful stare from Valentino made the lawyer regret his frank speech. Perhaps he should not taunt the man with the hopelessness of his situation.
Valentino thought of the one favor that he had not dared to call in. To send a friend or relative to find Thal, a man accused of worse crimes than him, would have fallen somewhere between impossible and murderous.
Thal would give these louts what they deserve, Valentino thought fondly.
Tobias shut his folio and stood up. “Until the New Year then,” he said.
“Can I have paper to write my wife?” Valentino asked urgently.
“When the time comes,” Tobias said.
“What do you mean by that?” Valentino demanded.
“No need to write your goodbyes yet. Maybe Mikulas will leave an imperial pardon in your boot three nights hence and you’ll be set free,” Tobias joked.
“Scoundrel!” Valentino cried and lunged. The stool went flying into a corner and the lawyer backed away from the table even though the chain halted Valentino out of reach.
“Guards!” Tobias shouted.
Valentino lashed out with a long leg and kicked the table over, spilling the ink and scattering the quills.
The dungeon lackeys entered the room with their wooden batons and got one behind Valentino’s elbows across his back and another under his chin. The brawny guards wrestled Valentino down to his knees before one unlocked his chain.
“I’ll pray for a Christmas miracle for you,” Tobias said, marveling at the tenacity of his client’s resistance to reality.