Marco’s Journal:Two Down,Two to Go

Saint Christopher be praised! We are safe and triumphant! The streets are abuzz with the news that the Conti and the Frangipani rode down the Bardoni gang and now garrison ‘The Three-Way House’ with our patron Cola. Read on, as I tell how that wonder turned out, and also what is not told in the streets.

As the hot afternoon wore on, we waited within the Three-Way House for the assault of the Bardoni. We closed all three gates on to the street, and jammed wicker hurdles in front of the inner doors before dropping the bar on each. Each gate had a room above with a hatch for unloading a cart, and there we piled up missiles and pots of olive oil and a brazier. Renzo and Lino led the defence of Carlo’s gate, helped by Astore, while Lorenzo and I held Gepetto’s gate. Two of the Sweeper’s urchins had thrown in their lot with us and acted as out lookouts and runners, while Rocco did a roving patrol with a crossbow in case of surprises. Soon we heard a commotion in the street outside.

Then Father Arturo went to the top floor of the old gatehouse, and led the nuns in a liturgy – singing out prayers for our deliverance and confusion to the enemy. He resisted a strange gust of wind which tried to disrupt the holy harmony, and I think I heard the witch cry out in pain far below. It was hard to be sure as a mob had gathered in the street below, whipped up by the Bardoni to storm the gates and release the nuns ‘kidnapped by the false priest’. It is strange what words can influence a mob when any questioning mind might poke a few holes in such a bag of hot air. Perhaps the witch was out there, befuddling minds, or maybe the Suburra mob would believe anything their patron told them.

Soon they took a ram to Carlo’s gate and axemen hacked at Gepetto’s. Missiles and hot oil from above repelled these tyros, and Lorenzo used his arts to ignite my oil as it sizzled on the shields and bodies below. The fire sent them screaming back into the street, where it took their masters a long while to urge them to another attempt. This went the same way as the first, and so we held them all off for an hour or so.

It was hot work for them, but we did not have much more oil to throw when we heard the clear call of a trumpet outside, answered by another bugle, and then the clatter of iron on stone and the cries of wounded men. We scrambled up to the top of the gatehouse once more to see knights riding down the mob with footsoldiers sweeping the streets behind them. We cheered as we saw the colours of the Frangipani with our friends Matteo and Noli riding with them, and also the colours of the Conti, and last of all Cola upon a horse with his followers on foot behind.

In a trice the mob were slaughtered and scattered, and so we were saved. We threw open all the gates and our saviours met in the courtyard : the Conti, the Frangipani and the Notary shook hands at the meeting of the Three Ways, and each looted a third of the palazzo. The Frangipani took Carlo’s portion, the Conti took Gepetto’s, and Cola took Ornella’s quarters. It was clear from the start that news of her hoard of ancient findings had reached him from Fra. Giovanni, who turned up at Cola’s heels to greet us all again. Well Met! For without his part, all would have come to naught for us.

The three allies agreed to garrison their portion of the palazzo against the return of the Bardoni, for although Carlo’s head was on a pikestaff, no sign of Gepetto or Ornella’s could be found amongst the slain men strewn about the street. So we caught our breath awhile, and remembered our prisoners in the cage. The Frenchman turned out to be a Gascon called Gaston de Buch who was much irked to be questioned by one of the English – for we learned at last that Noli was from that far-off land, and he bore no staff but instead a bow longer than a man’s height.

The Gascon bargained for his life. He was the debt collector for the Bardoni, and knew their business. He knew where Gepetto kept two mistresses, and would show us these safe-houses in exchange for his life. For two florins more he would aid us by asking for entrance. Matteo agreed we should search these at once, if only to prove he must have fled to the House of Crows with Ornella.

The other prisoner, was Scolisi, who kept the Bardoni accounts. We let him go as a maimed scribbler seemed to be little threat or use to anyone. Once again, Providence had whispered in my ear and our mercy would be rewarded. But more of that later.

So Noli, Rocco, Astore and Lorenzo went with Father Arturo and I out into the Suburra after dark, guided by Gaston de Buch to the nearest safe house. The Gascon urged the guard to let him in, as he had urgent news for Gepetto. He was told to wait, and the grille in the door snapped shut. If he was going for orders, it could only mean Gepetto was within. ‘Open It’ I hissed to Lorenzo. The lock held fast against his muttering for a little while, but then gave way. We rushed inside as the Gascon slouched against the wall, a blithe turncoat. Through a little courtyard, then up the stairs. On the first floor a crossbow shot streaked through my armour to stick in the wall behind, before an axeman covered a doorway as he reloaded beyond. The axeman knew his business, and soon I had to retreat after taking two great blows to my shoulder. One more would send me to a sick-bed for sure, or maybe worse. Rocco pressed on past me with Noli, and they followed both guards up to the second floor for a final desperate struggle. Whilst Father Arturo patched up my shoulder, Rocco gave his all to overcome the axeman and stab the already wounded Gepetto before collapsing from his wounds. Then Noli took a dagger to Gepetto’s throat, and the crossbowman threw down.

So Gepetto was taken; his mistress wept as I tied his hands and put a bag over his head. We let the crossbowman run for his life and quickly looted the place. I gained a haubergeon which might have been made for me, and a second which did not fit, a fine dagger, and a large bunch of strongbox keys. Then we made up a stretcher for poor Rocco and set off for home. Just outside we found the crossbowman with his throat cut and no sign of the Gaston; one less witness of his turned coat. The rascal seems unencumbered by mercy, despite what had been shown to him; he might as well be a Frenchman. Doubtless he will have much to explain to St Peter when justice catches up with him. Father Arturo carried the two haubergeons I had looted, while the sturdy Lorenzo and I carried poor Rocco back to the House of Three Ways. Once again, Providence led us safely through the dark and quiet alleys of the Suburra. Maybe the streets had seen enough blood for one day.

The young Conti noble and Matteo congratulated us on taking Gepetto prisoner and condemned him to hang the next morning. I spoke a few words to him in case he wanted a priest for his confession or to aid us in dealing with the sorcerer Caltagirone who had brought ruin down on his House, but he wanted neither. Instead he tried to buy his life with talk of a secret cypher for the records of his Suburra debtors. For an Angel jostled my head as I reported his scribbler killed by the Gascon when we had let him go alive; worn out I got the names confused. Cola thought this very cunning on my part, so I held my tongue about my error and thanked Providence once more. It turned out for the best as Cola now agreed with Matteo and the young Conti that Gepetto should hang in the morning – while he quietly sent Truco out to hunt the scribbler Scolisi down. That night we had the strongbox keys safe while the Conti searched for them in vain and Cola pondered his next move. For those rent books might give him the power to become a Patron of the Suburra and grow his influence accordingly. Then I lay down on Ornella’s feather bed and slept like a dead man, for it had been a very long day of trial and hard knocks.

In the morning a Conti herald went outside and proclaimed that Gepetto Bardone would hang for his many crimes that very morning. A crowd gathered to watch him swing from the top floor of the gatehouse – some cheered and some cried out for their patron; scuffles broke out among the factions. Bardone refused a priest once more, shrugged off the hangman and jumped off the parapet cursing us all : a long drop with a sudden stop. The three allies will leave him hanging there to rot as a statement of authority over the Suburra. Doubtless the Bardoni brothers will have much to debate with the damned; I find it hard to believe they found a place waiting for them in Heaven.

So two down and two to go. The witch and the sorcerer still abide in the House of Crows, and we must deal with them next. But not today - today we took poor Rocco to the Convent of Santa Bibita, whose nuns we had just rescued, and he rests there in their hospital.

***********

Marco’s Journal : Fools’ Gamble

Fooled ! We were all fooled ! Now I must scribble these words in haste, for once more we wait for battle to start, and I know not if these words will be my only legacy.

Just as Renzo, Lino and the urchins were ready to depart, as I scribbled in my Journal upstairs, I heard a voice calling from the courtyard. It was that villain Gepetto Bardone calling for Ornella:

• ‘Speak to Me !...Come On, Stop Sulking !…Come On, Auntie, Speak to Me !….

• silence

• ‘ Well Today’s the Day!….We are Going in Three hours…’

• ‘If You Want One of Those Things, You’ll have to Come Out…’

• silence

• ‘If You don’t Come Out, We Will Go Without You….’

• silence

• ‘Suit Yourself….In Three Hours...We Go ! ‘

Straight-way I made downstairs to stop them on the threshold - only just in time. We needed a new plan, for it was clear the nuns were going to meet their fate - and the sorcerer – very soon. Clearly there was not enough time to get the urchins away through the sewers, warn Cola at the Black Cat, and get our allies back here before they left. In haste we gave thought and wondered about letting the urchins out of the nearest courtyard gate while we rushed Gepetto’s door. Rosa suggested it might be safer for the children to get out from the sewers and one of the urchins tried to speak up. He choked on his words and I saw Rosa looking strangely at him – just a glance - but full of malice.

At last, after all these hours, I smelled the whiff of sorcery.

The devil is made of lies, Fra. Giovanni tells me, and looks after his own. So it was when I grabbed Rosa suddenly and held a knife to her throat…. for there was no throat there, nor any Rosa with it, just thin air and her...nearby. In a trice the scales fell from our eyes and her walking stick became a broom as she swept sturdy Rocco aside with a gesture and flew on it out of the basement door and off into the endless dark of the sewers.

The Witch Lives ! A Sweeper indeed.

We stood stunned for a moment, and then Renzo said ‘ That was Her. She had us. As soon as we saw her, we knew. But we had no will to resist, or to say anything.’ No wonder I thought he was kind-hearted to take her with the urchins, after her part in their keeping. But this was all spilled milk; she had fooled us all and we must move on. For surely she would fly straight to the sorcerer, or another way out – if she knew the way. In any case, daylight was burning down while we waited like rats in a trap. We must strike, the sooner the better.

First Lorenzo used his arts to get Fra. Giovanni safely out of a window and down to the street thirty feet below, so he could take word of our plight to Cola and our allies. Next we sallied out into the courtyard and hid behind the line of hurdles, while Renzo and Lino got the children out of the tunnel gate and into the streets of the Subura. Then we all pushed back the hurdles and charged for Gepetto’s door. Four large mastiffs delayed us for a few moments, but fled inside Carlo’s door when they tasted steel; Rocco dashed across the courtyard just as the watchman closed the door on the far side. A shoving match ensued, as Rocco tried to force the door open and the watchman tried to drop the bar inside. I managed to jam the back of a falcione in the crack, which gave Rocco a chance to gather his strength and force our way in at last. He chased the watchman up some stairs, while I covered his back from another guard stabbing from a doorway on the left. He was no mug, and it took a few blows from my falcata to back him into the guardroom; eventually he begged for quarter and threw down his arms. I made him an ill-favoured pope-stealing Frenchman from his barbarous accent.

Meanwhile Rocco cut down his opponent and rushed on up the stairs, followed by Astore and, rather more slowly, Father Arturo, who was singing a hymn accompanied from afar by the faint sound of a heavenly choir. Doubtless some holy work, I thought, although it turned out to be the nuns instead. Whilst I disarmed and questioned the French rascal, Rocco and Arturo were led a merry dance above by what turned out to be Gepetto Bardone who had been shooting down into the courtyard at my friends all the while we were forcing our way within. His aspect at home was more of an Italian dancing master, as he evaded Rocco and Astore with various displays of agility which left them chasing him back and forth in vain. Eventually he threw his sword down into the courtyard thirty feet below and made a death-defying swing above the courtyard using a decorative piece of iron-work to escape around a dead end and back into Ornella’s quarters. Truly the devil was looking after his own once more! From there, he could just walk out into the street from the same gate the children had used.

Now we were masters of the whole place, for Renzo, Lino and Lorenzo had forced their way inside Carlo’s door and overcome the two guardsmen within. They had caged the cowed dogs and freed a gaggle of nuns from a prison cell. I rounded up a few servants and put the lot in the same prison cell with our captured guards, after the nuns had bandaged up a few of their wounds. Father Arturo was complaining loudly about a crossbow wound - although it seemed to have done more damage to his priestly shirt than his body. Doubtless the Lord was looking after his own too. Lino had taken several such shots, and Renzo and Rocco had many cuts and bruises, but we all licked our wounds and took stock of our situation.

I explained to the nuns why they had been taken, and who had sent us here to rescue them and thwart the plans of this evil gang. I feared that if we just left this place and took them to safety, the Bardoni would return and the evil they do would just start up once more. The nuns had faith that Providence would watch over us until our allies could arrive and said we must hold fast against our enemies. All of us agreed to take that gamble, although it will be hard to hold this place against a determined gang of rogues. For we could see no other way to truly hurt the Bardoni. Now we have all their goods at hazard, and the nuns beside, and they must try and get them back.

So now we wait within the Bardoni palazzo, waiting for a challenge from outside. Then it will be cold steel once more, although maybe Providence will aid us again. Push will come to shove soon enough, I reckon.

Marco’s Journal : Striking Back

Now I must scribble these thoughts in haste, for we are hiding in the enemy camp, with a desperate fight to come.

But I should start at the beginning.

Saint Christopher had seen us safely to the Deliziosa with the Jews we rescued from murder in the dark alleys of Rome, to find Bettina and her news that we were homeless. While we settled them in, Rocco went out onto the streets again and returned with Marisa and news that the Bardoni gang had restored the Sorceror and his minions to the House of Crows. Donna Giulia sent word to the Jewish Quarter, and the next day some Pierlione surcoats arrived with a horse-litter to collect the old man [one Simione Zacuto] and his wounded nephew and escort their precious cargo to safety. He gave us a small bag of florins, his thanks, and an address we would always be welcome to visit.

The six golden florins were very welcome, as we all had hardly any money in our pockets once more. The rest of our goods we had to think were already plundered. A year’s work - gone. Our most valuable asset was now Giovanni’s metal foot. Father Arturo prayed for the safe return of his newly-inked copy of Galen, which it seems was very precious to him. Indeed we might all lament the loss of our savings, and how we might have squandered it all on wine, women and song instead and be better off than we now were. Certainly Astore did. Brother Giovanni told us to take heart as poverty is good for the soul, but that did not lighten my spirits much; instead I kept myself warm with dreams of revenge.

More hope arrived later that day, when we heard that Cola was calling a council of war at the Black Cat in two days time, at noon. Welcome news indeed, so straightway we said our farewells at the Deliziosa and made our way down to the river to catch a boat back to that end of town. Bettina and Marisa would throw their lot in with us and come too. The boat and river toll was painful to our drained purses, but the streets did not seem safe to travel on after all the rioting. So we made our way swiftly to the Black Cat, and all made ourselves useful as it now housed many refugees from violence and looting. Like us they were homeless and looked to Cola for help.

By noon the next day Matteo and Noni had arrived, along with Renzo, Lino and Father Michele from the Baths of Diocletion, and our old friend Pino, who was growing up fast. Cola had the bar cleared with guards at the door as we held our council of war. Cola told all that the Bardoni gang had taken over the House of Crows by force-of-arms, and so slighted our familia.  That same night the Sorceror Aristofane Caltagirone was back, with the hunchback and deformed hulk he had as his servants. Like me, Cola felt the recent kidnapping of nuns was no coincidence. They had been taken into the depths of the Suburra, the haunt of the Bardoni gang. We know for certain the Sorceror murdered poor virgins to summon and bind the flying monkeys from hell [the good father says they are Scimioni Volanti] , and their return would darken the credit we received for their elimination from the streets of Rome.

Renzo said that both he and Lino hated the Bardoni for once they had been enslaved urchins of The Sweeper - those spigolatori who must glean the endless darkness beneath the streets and return with items of value if they wished to be fed. They had suffered captivity and starvation for many years until they found an escape to the surface. When we described the modern entrance we had found once in our questing below the streets, he agreed that was the point they came from. Above was an old Palazzo, which the Bardoni brothers shared with their aunt as a fortified base for their crimes. Geppetto was the brains, Carlo was the enforcer, and The Sweeper ran her own affairs as tyrant of the urchins and a fence for stolen goods. She wielded a broomstick, and kept a black cat, so all the urchins named her a Witch.

Matteo said he had not settled his account with the Sorceror, and would join in any action to scotch his plans.

After much discussion we made a plan to prove again the route from Renzo’s exit to the Bardoni basement, before launching an attack from below. The attack would involve a Magician’s ruse, a feigned assault on the House of Crows and an ambush of the Bardoni gang sent to clear that away. We would need hour-candles to time our attack from beneath with the action in the streets above. Everyone had a part, and we would make common cause for revenge. A fine plan, but in war few of these thrive in the real world. The Will of Providence is often otherwise - for good or ill - and so it was for us.

To prove the old route still sound, Renzo and Lino took Rocco, Astore, Father Arturo, Brother Giovanni and I across to the Calean Hill. Our new housemate Lorenzo would not be left behind, and was determined to use his magic arts to aid us in the darkness below. The old exit was hard to find in the overgrown ruins on the slopes of the hill, and there we came across two monks arguing with an angry mule. Their progress was not helped by the jeering of many novices from the walls of a small monastery close by. So I took a hand, and as they slipped and stumbled I calmed the poor beast and led it quietly inside the gate. We were thanked by a senior monk, who soon re-ordered the novices as well as any sergeant-at-arms. He offered us water and some shade to drink it in as we had saved the day. When Renzo enquired about the shrine of Santa Barbara he lent us a guide to show it to us.

Soon we found the shrine further down the hill, well worn but still bearing a faded painting of the saint. She is a patron saint for miners, I am told, so Father Arturo made a small mass for us to ask for her protection in the tunnels below, for surely they are as dark as any mine.

Nearby was Renzo’s exit, a tiny cave hidden in a mass of bushes. Crawling within, you can reach stone stairs leading down into an ancient tunnel, although it is a tight spot indeed. Once we had all squeezed through, even Rocco, we descended to an ancient water-way with a walkway on each side, like many we had seen before. The air was fresh and clean compared to many of the lower passages. Renzo led us down, past openings, across a small ford, and eventually to a passage covered in hanging gauze, light as air and strangely sticky. Spider-silk writ very large in the darkness, for this was no common web. All gripped their weapons and prayed to Saint Barbara as we pressed on. Rocco’s prayer must have been heard, for when a huge spider dropped upon him from ceiling, he skipped forward without harm as it landed just behind. Its legs were longer than a man’s, and it scuttled right quick about the walls and web above, despite its great size.

Both Rocco and Renzo had struck it hard, so it swarmed back into its lair above, leaving the tips of two legs behind to the delight of Lorenzo, who stuffed them into his bag for later examination. Above we could see a crack in the roof, or another small tunnel, where must be its lair. The way up was hard, and any fight would be one alone with a dagger in a small space against the fangs and venom of the great spider. We had other business more pressing, and so we passed on and left that danger behind us.

Renzo led us on until we reached the smell of the sewars, and still recognised the passages despite nearly ten years passing since he had trod these ways before. We were close to the stairs we sought, so Rocco and Renzo crept ahead to spy on them while the rest stayed quiet. When we heard a cry and the clash of arms, I ran forward towards the faint light ahead.

I found Renzo and Rocco struggling against four goat-headed men who bore crude shields and iron weapons – heavy falcione or maces. Astore and I rushed in to even the odds, and then Lino arrived with his great axe to tip the scales in our favour. Soon their harsh bleating was silenced when we cut the last down just as Lorenzo, Father Arturo and Brother Giovanni arrived. At that moment the door at the top of the stair was thrown open, and a woman with a broomstick stood forth brazenly.

So we had found our witch, and she was indeed amazed. For in a trice Rocco threw his sword at her, Renzo and Astore stormed up the stairs, Father Arturo appealed for God to Smite the Witch, and Lorenzo cast a bolt of fire at her. I hardly had time to reach the foot of the stairs before she had burst into flames, been hacked by Astore’s falcione, and stabbed in the vitals by Renzo’s baselard. Her time was up before she could utter a word, and she pitched off the top of the stairs down to the stone floor below. Just to make sure, as there are many stories of dead wizards walking before they are turned to ashes, I lopped off a leg and then her head for good measure. It fitted into a small bag nicely, so I took it with me to prevent any reunion whilst we were busy inside.

Within we found a small chamber with a ledger recording the return of each urchin and what they had gleaned. Beyond that was a room with two caged pens of urchins; some twenty-or-so unfortunate spigolatori pleaded for food and their release. While Lino reassured them we would get them food and take them to safety, Father Arturo and Brother Giovanni treated Rocco’s wounds.

Renzo, Astore and I went up the stairs and cleared each room seeking her retainers or other guards. In a closet we found Rosa, the Sweeper’s maid, who gave no trouble and talked with hardly any questions. She explained she was the last servant left – all the rest had been replaced by the goat-men. Apparently the Sorceror had moved in a year or more ago, and things had changed after that. The Sweeper now made many plans with Geppeto and Carlo when before they rarely spoke. Some deal had clearly been done, and we guessed it involved the flying monkeys - for control of a few of them would greatly aid the Bardoni gang. Rosa had seen the missing nuns herded into the palazzo a few days ago, although where they were being held she did not know.

So now we knew we were right. Although we had struck the Bardoni hard, and Renzo was revenged, we were not done if we were to scotch these plans and hopefully kill the Sorceror too.

Although we still had the element of surprise, we had only 5 soldiers, two priests and a magician against an unknown number of Bardoni thugs - still behind many secure doors as the palazzo was divided into three sets of quarters. We held a little council of war and agreed that Renzo and Lino would lead the urchins back to the old exit and the monastery above before bringing news to Cola and our friends. We would try and hold here until they could make a new plan of attack for tomorrow. If all failed, we could retreat into the tunnels beneath and flee, but if we could hold out we might make the defence of the palazzo much more difficult.

First we needed to find some money and food to persuade the monks to take in twenty new mouths to feed, or they might be back on the streets instead. So Renzo, Astore and I crept up the stairs once more and opened the door which lead out to the covered porch and cloister with led around the courtyard one floor below. We could see the courtyard was divided into two parts by hurdles with four large guard-dogs penned into one half. No guards. We crept along and entered a door leading to many rooms. In one we found a scribe hiding out; like Rosa he came quietly and gave no trouble. Umberto showed us to a strongroom with many bags of coins; we took a few to oil the wheels of the monastery and some more full of ducats. If we live, perhaps our fortunes might be repaired. All around, the shelves were full of artifacts from the ancient world – a huge collection. If Cola could see this, he would have a fit. But there was no way of carrying even a tiny part of all of this, so I would have content myself with a box of jewellery looted from the Sweeper’s rooms.

Now we crept back to the basement, where Lorenzo took on the likeness of Rosa and went out into the courtyard on his own. Back and forth he strolled with food from the kitchen – a large pot of pottage, bags of grain, and even two sides of bacon. Whilst some of us held our breath, he blithely collected what we needed with casual steps and cool glances.

Soon we had all we needed, and fed the urchins before readying them all to leave with their little cloaks and candles. Rosa pleaded to go with them, saying she had had enough of the Sorceror and guessed her mistress was no more. Renzo agreed to take her along – it was his call. He seems kind-hearted even after such a hard life, for his first thought was ever for the urchins. I hope they make it out unharmed.

Umberto confessed that he lived alone, and had no wife or children to miss him. We told him he need have no fear if he waited quietly in the basement and took no part in our fight with the Bardoni. He knew they were evil men, and that his employment was over, for they had no interest in the antiquities hoarded by their aunt.

So now we wait in hiding within the Bardoni palazzo, for a challenge from outside. We shall need some stratagem to throw them off, or take a chance with silence. If that fails, it will be cold steel once more, although maybe Lorenzo’s arts may aid us again.