Marco’s Journal : Roman Revels

A new fellow has joined Cola’s ‘family’ – he is a young scribbler named Lorenzo, who dabbles in magic and enjoys a cup of wine with good company. He is a decent fellow, from a hard background, and so fell in with us readily. We asked him to have a squint at the little luck-piece we had just found in the underworld, and he pronounced it genuinely ancient yet still retaining some virtue of good fortune. We let him wear it for a while to bring him luck, and so far it has worked a treat !

Rome had a big party for the first time in years and by good luck or Providence, we got into the best bit, reserved for the finest people in Rome. We had a fancy invitation, written by the rising star of the show – Petrarch himself. Cola had tipped us a wink, so we gave 3 ancient coins we had found to Petrarch as a gift. In response, we got a special invitation to the bigwigs party held after the public celebrations which appointed him as chief-poet-of-Rome, or some such nonsense.

We had all bought new clothes for the occasion, and some of us had to buy them all over again after the mess made pushing through the huge crowds around the Palatine. Everyone seemed very happy, and from afar we heard several long speeches praising the greatness of Rome’s history, and affirming the aim to Make-Rome-Great-Again. If only that made a catchy slogan. Well there were great cheers and even some free wine, if you brought your own cup. As the crowd dispersed, we followed a procession of servants bearing chairs, and so found the scene of the fancy party.

We waved our scroll, with the seal of Petrarch himself, under the noses of the flunkies at the gate. They could see we we not the rich or famous, but could find no excuse to deny us entry. We did not even have to argue much, and they were so posh themselves that bribes were beneath them. So we all piled in, with Lorenzo and Friar Giovanni deftly posing as our servants.

So Rocco the fisherman, Marco the soldier and Father Arturo mingled with the famous and wealthy and we had all the food and wine we could want for free. What fortune!

I was surprised to bump into Petrarch himself, and amazed he remembered my name at all. In a few moments he was off, but not before he had introduced me to Guido Guardino, a dealer in curios. He was pleased to meet a new ‘finder’ who delved for these goods in the Underworld beneath the streets of Rome. Well met indeed! This contact made the Revel doubly worthwhile, but there was more to come.

Hardly had I met Guido, than another merchant pushed in, and introduced himself as Pier-Paulo Rospo, a dealer in relics. So if we find the bones of a saint, or a nail from a Calvary cross, we know who to approach. It seems unlikely, but maybe he will buy suitably ancient junk in the hope that it is a relic after all. That may come in handy someday, who knows? I counted my fingers after shaking his hand. With my head spinning from these new possibilities, I sought to fortify myself at the prodigious free buffet provided.

I was still there, not quite full, when Rocco found me. Apparently he had helped a blind musician back to his place after he had been cast adrift by a careless flunky. The youth had a good heart, and very sharp ears, and had overheard a group of noble louts planning assault and murder as they drank more glasses of wine than they should. They cursed the name of Corsini, and wore Frangipani colours, so it was not hard to guess the object of their wrath. Sure enough we found Matteo whirling his paramour around the dance floor, while her parents looked on, muttering an argument between themselves.

Six against One seemed unfair odds, especially since the One was our comrade-in-arms against the sorceror who abducted young girls to feed to his demon pets. So we gathered our little band from all corners of the party and found a chance to quietly brief Matteo of the plot against him. A quandary presented itself – although these louts deserved a beating, this would not aid his quest for marriage with their sister or cousin. Weddings follow funerals poorly, it seems. What to Do?

Lorenzo presented a Strategem from his arts. He could cast a spell to mask the appearance of a person so that they would bear the likeness of another, unless observed closely. Amongst our party Friar Giovanni had the same height and build as Matteo, whilst Father Arturo was likewise twin to his servant Noli. So they all swapped their outer garments whilst Lorenzo sketched in the air and wove his illusion around each of them. Soon it was hard to tell the Ruse from the Real, and so we ran our hare for the dogs. Our two priests left the party wrapped in their altered guise, and were soon pursued at the run by a crowd of half-drunk toffs in Frangipani colours. Some way down the hill our two hares called upon Providence to open the eyes of the wrathful, which saved them from the long sharp swords being raised against them. The Frangipani dogs ran off in confusion, seeking their prey in vain, only to find only an embarrassing foolishness instead.

We picked up Arturo and Giovanni a few minutes later and made our way quietly to the rendezvous we had agreed near the House of Crows. There we met Matteo and Noli, and drank to their health and the confusion of the Frangipani before returning home.

It had been an exciting day, and always worth doing a good turn for a friend. One day we may need the favour returned.

Marco’s Journal : V is for Vendetta

Well, we have Providence to thank for our lives; somehow we survived a well-planned ambush by professional soldiers. Certainly Father Arturo calls it a miracle, and he was certainly crying out for God’s help while I lay unconscious.

But I should start at the beginning.

We were at the Black Cat for a gathering of Cola’s ‘family’ – an evening of food, wine and good news – a bonus from the city council for the continued absence of flying monkey-demons haunting the streets at night. It looks like we got them all, for now anyway. Ten florins each topped off a cheerful evening in good company. It should have been our last.

We had made our way through the dark streets of Rome and were nearly back home at the House of Crows., when ahead of us a woman cried for help as she was dragged into a dark alley. I do not like to see a woman molested, and made after her, followed by my good companions. I did not forget to check the first corner in case it was a ruse, but followed up an empty close as the girl continued to resist. At the second corner I was met by a large man carrying a heavy axe, wearing armour under his voluminous cloak. All I had was a dagger in my belt and a truncheon in my hand. It was obvious that he was a veteran equipped for battle, and this was no fair fight. After two crunching blows with his axe – I could admire his professional stance with buckler at the bottom of his two-handed grip, and shrewd overhand strikes in the cramped close – before I was struck down. Most soldiers meet their end in a sudden pain in mud and blood and darkness. But lo! I awoke from just this condition being helped up by my rather dishevelled companions, and we staggered back home with a spear and a heavy axe which did not belong to us.

Apparently I had missed the best bit – Father Arturo wrestling my conqueror to the floor and crying loudly for God to save us from Murder, whilst from the rear Friar Giovanni and Astore faced off a fully armed Pavisier and a Cross-bow man. On the streets of Rome indeed! Apparently Astore fought them to a standstill in desperate straits, and they lost heart when the Axeman suddenly fled the scene, leaving his weapon behind. Back home, as Friar Giovanni bandaged my arm, I pointed out who our assailants must be. We were warned that the woman Astore had injured – a year or so ago now – had three sons who were professional soldiers off to the war in the South. Our ambushers were three soldiers, fully equipped for battle, who trapped us in a tight alley a few streets from home by using actors as a lure. They had only murder in mind, so it seemed clear who was behind this.

Over a week, while my wounded arm recovered, Friar Giovanni asked around, and found that the brothers had returned from war, were displeased with the compensation paid, and had been asking about us. They had hired rooms near the ambush point, allowing them a den for spying around and hiding their armour and battlefield weapons. We knew they were local boys from Rome, so probably living back in their home neighbourhood near their sick mother and their uncle. They had sent no message, no demand for money, but had decided instead on the murder of Astore and any companions who happened to be nearby as a Vendetta.

So what to do? Well, Friar Giovanni mentions the need to forgive others and then turn the other cheek, although I believe he was belabouring our assailants with a staff while I was unconscious. Our patron made it clear he would not protect us, while any solution was our affair and must keep his name out of it if we were to remain part of his “family”. So dealing with this Vendetta needs careful thought. The Friar offers words from the Testament, Genesis – “whoever sheds the blood of man, by man will his blood be shed”, but also Matthew – “forgive those that trespass against thee seventy times seven, for so shall the Lord do unto you”. Which didn’t really narrow our thoughts much.

We talked the night away, and all of us are loath to fight fire with fire and bring violence to their home once more. We have all asked for forgiveness, and I think Providence tests our resolve. At first my heart burned with anger at those who would have murdered us, but so can I understand their anger at the fate of their own mother. So I forgive them for their sin, as I have been forgiven. Turning the other cheek is too hard for me, so instead we hired some door-guards so we might sleep more peacefully at night, and will take precautions against another ambush in the streets.

After deciding to ponder on a solution for a while Astore, Father Arturo, Friar Giovanni and I went once more into the great darkness below the city. I took the front after applying “eyebright” ointment, and Astore took the rear, with our men of God bearing torches between us. We learned that the under-dark is truly huge as we walked miles along large passages and ignored countless small side-ways as we explored. We found one way back up to the living world guarded by a stout door, watchmen and a barking dog. We crept passed that, and had almost become resigned to returning empty-handed when I spotted a corpse floating in the underground river that flows in the darkness below. As we fished it out, an ectoplasmic ooze enveloped Friar Giovanni and tried to suffocate him in the same manner as its last victim. He seemed doomed to drown until Father Arturo drove it back into the water with an Exorcism. The corpse wore a large pouch containing three coins and two objects from the ancients.

A restorative potion got the Friar going again so we made straight-way back to the living world with what we have found. Hopefully they will be worth more than what was consumed in winning them, for any wealth fetched from the underworld is dearly bought.

******

Marco's Journal - Voices from the Ancient World

Soon after Cola had received the acclamation of the people, and some gold from Cardinal Colonna, we were rich. Well, rich enough for a poor soldier who arrived at the gates of Rome with only a handful of coins and the clothes on his back. Why we were now rich enough to almost afford the hat a noble might wear walking about town! Still, it was enough to buy me some more war-gear and have a tidy sum put aside for hard times. For those are never more than a broken bone away, and those of us who live by hard knocks know that all too well.

After a wink from Cola, we reasoned amongst ourselves for a while and decided that the House of Crows might make a handy base to explore the tunnels of the ancients that lie below the streets of the Eternal City. The place needed some money spent on it to make it habitable again, so we all chipped in some of our new money. Soon a man-of-business was found to make the great pile of necromantic bodies disappear, one piece at a time, while his gang set to clearing the courtyard orchard which was completely choked with brambles and briars. It would take weeks of work but would allow us to plant a kitchen garden later in the spring, and give us a space to walk about in peace.

Now we had moved in and made a start at making the House of Crows a decent place again, it was time to explore the great darkness below the Eternal City. We had received a tidy pile of alchemical stuff in return for the contents of the Sorceror's laboratory - healing salves, alchemical torches and darksight eye ointment looked especially apt for our needs. So Rocco, Astore and I, accompanied by Father Arturo and Friar Giovanni clambered down the cramped passage below the Sorceror's lair in the basement of the House of Crows. After a few minutes squirming down a tiny passage we found a page of script untrampled on the floor, showing we were indeed on the trail of our quarry.

With the help of Friar Giovanni I write this Journal to aid my recollection in the years ahead, or to help those that come after me. For most who live by the sword do not die peacefully in their beds, surrounded by their family and a priest. Instead they leave this world in pain, mired in mud and blood or wine. Many meet their fate in darkness, but few in a darkness as absolute as the underworld below the streets. It is utterly black there, so a man cannot see his hand in front of his face, and the light of a candle is swiftly swallowed up by the immensity of shadow around it. So we took several lanterns with hours of fuel and extra torches in case of delays, and an alchemical torch as a last hope should all other lights go out.

We proceeded in single file, with a soldier at both front and back and unarmoured priests in the middle - for danger comes swiftly on the unprepared, from any direction. So it was for me, as I passed a low passage joining the the cramped tunnel we were following. Out of that dark opening lunged a srawny thing of claws and teeth, barely visible in the flickering light cast from those behind me. I bore a shield instead of a torch, which served me well as the thing that once might have been a man slashed at me, avid for living flesh. So cramped was that place that no-one could come to my aid while I strove with falcata and shield against this undead horror. A dagger might have served me better in such a squeeze, but at last the thing crumbled into a pile of mouldering bones. All we found was a small gold ring on its finger and a dead end, so onwards we went into the endless night.

Now Astore took the lead while I caught my breath as the rearguard, and it was his turn to face unexpected danger. As he checked out a small side passage, a horde of large rats swarmed around our feet. After a frenzy of stamping, stabbing and cursing he was assailed by a rat so large it walked upon its hind legs and gripped a fine dagger. After a brief struggle this Mother of All Rats was dispatched, but all we found in her nest was a fragment of parchment and a few coins before another dead end.

So much for the treasure of the ancients - we had barely found enough to buy some food and firewood for a week. We needed more, or at least a sign the Sorceror had passed this way, so on we searched , hour after hour. After many twists and turns - carefully marked with charcoal on the walls lest we become hopelessly lost - we saw a faint glimmer of light ahead. A careful advance found a great pyramid of rubbish in the centre of a huge space, illuminated by a beam of light coming from a shaft far above in the ceiling. At the top of the midden, basking in the little shaft of golden light from the living world above, was a creature.

She has been the subject of much debate since, as her form was mostly that of a human female, albeit with prominent horns in her hair and some uncertainty as to her shape below the waist. Some think she had legs to walk upon, while I suspect a more snake-like means of transport through the garbage of centuries. Both Father Arturo and Friar Giovanni believe she was a minion of Satan, left on earth to tempt men from the path of righteousness and squander their souls in foolish bargains. Indeed they were most vehemently of this persuasion, so I record it here in my Journal, although in my own mind I am not certain. For she spoke passable Italian, and conversed politely awhile with Rocco, and made no move to harm him, but introduced her two sisters instead. Now there were three of these unhuman creatures to keep an eye on, but still they made no move against us.

Rocco tells me they gave their names as Aglaia, Euphrosine and Thallia , and were dismayed that none of us had ever heard of them, and did not come to make offerings or sacrifice for their goodwill. They said that this had been the custom of the ancients, and they could bestow Light, Joy and Blooming - or at least something like that; it was hard for me to be sure exactly what they meant for their accent was not what I am used to in Pitigliano. Rocco took courage from this, and gave them his flask of wine as a remembrance of the world above; in return the Maidens of the Midden took a pebble and imbued it with a gleam of sunlight from above, giving it to Rocco as a keepsake. It shone in his hand after he took it from them, and might be a handy thing if it lasts.

Whilst Father Arturo and Friar Giovanni have loudly warned that converse and traffic with demons is a mortal sin, I have to say that Rocco seems quite intact and untainted to the eye of someone less zealous or holy.

So we bade the Maidens of the Midden farewell, and searched awhile longer in the great darkness, but discovered no trace of the Sorceror's trail. Eventually our torches and lanterns burned so low we were forced to return to the living world above, but not before some horrible leech-serpent had sucked half the blood from Father Arturo's leg in a trice before being driven back into the water it had sprung from.

When we made a report to Cola he did not laugh in our faces, but remarked that there were many strange things described in ancient texts. If these were from the ancient world they had lived for fifty generations of men at least. Like us, he wondered what manner of creature they might be, and what they might know of the past.

If Rocco turns into a newt, or runs amok with cold steel in the marketplace, we will know that father Arturo was right all along. Until then I shall wait and see what may yet be, for I think we may meet the Maidens again in the great darkness below.