Pip Vaughan-Hughes - The Vault of bones

'Please stay a while and order some more food – in fact I shall see to it. We must be elsewhere, unfortunately. And tomorrow?'

Yes, yes. I am lodging at the Locanda della… di…' he snapped his fingers in frustration. '… in any event, the Sign of the White Hound, in the Borgo. I will await you…' 'At terce, if that suits.'

'It does, it does’ Baldwin rose, and we followed his example. I thought he was about to push past me and embrace the Captain, but he stood fast. He was younger than I had thought, or perhaps relief had softened him, but I saw that, had I acted on my base, angry instinct I would have killed a child. As I left the table I bowed my head politely. He gave me a bland look in return that I could not read. With Zianni and Horst I pushed through the crowd and stepped out into the street. It was raining, a warm mizzle, and Baldwin's two men were standing across the way, sheltering in the mouth of a covered passageway. At the sight of us they squared their shoulders and stepped into the rain. Horst held up a hand.

'Be of good cheer, lads – your emperor is within, filling his belly. I should join him before he scoffs the lot.'

If he had intended to sweeten matters with the honey of peace, it was obvious that his words had achieved the opposite effect. Both men stopped short, threw back the cloaks they were wearing and clapped hands to hilts. In another instant they would have drawn, had not the Captain stepped in front of us.

'I am the man your master sought’ he said, and his voice rang against the stone walls around us. Well, he has found me, and we are to meet again tomorrow morning. He bid me summon you to his table, where you will find food and wine. You are my guests, good fellows: I ask you to eat no less than your fill. We will see you on the morrow, and there will be no more thoughts of war. Good night to you.'

And he opened his arms as if to sweep them into the taverna. Horst, Zianni and I stepped back to let them through. One, taller than his mate and with the close-cropped hair of a soldier, whispered to his partner and stalked to the doorway. He peered inside. Looking over his shoulder I could just see the boy-emperor mopping a plate with a hunk of bread. The soldier turned and gave us a look that was more puzzled than angry. Then he beckoned to the other man, who walked past us, biting his lip and with his narrowed eyes on the ground. They stepped through the doorway and did not turn back..

'Gentlemen, I am sorry our evening has been cut short, but the circumstances are…' the Captain paused and rubbed his nose. 'I need to think things over. Thank you, dear friends, for not skewering that half-grown kinglet. I dare say we may never have a more fortunate meeting again, though we live as long as Adam. If you would care to take a cup of wine at the palazzo, you are welcome.'

Zianni shook his head. He was grinning. 'Captain, you are a prodigy of this age. Merely by sitting quietly in the midst of the city you draw the greatest fish of all into your net. Ill bid you good night and hide my fair locks, I think. I don't want to feel any more hands upon my shoulders.' And with a wave, he set off up the street towards his lodgings.

'By your leave, friends, I will see if my little Clementia is still awake,' said Horst.

'It is late to be calling on a lady,' I scolded him in my monk's voice.

'She'll not mind if I wake her,' he said seriously, and hurried off after Zianni. 'Hold up, boy,' we heard him call. 'Come meet my little pigeon.'

We watched them turn the corner. I was about to make my excuses as well, but the Captain took my arm and we began to stroll. He was silent for a few long minutes, then as we were crossing a little square he paused. The square was small, a black pool in a ravine of towering stone walls. In its centre stood a piece of ancient marble carved like a fish, from the mouth of which flowed a thin stream of water. It had stopped raining. An archway led out of the place, and beyond it people streamed to and fro along a busy thoroughfare, but where we stood we were surrounded by looming slabs of shadow. Voices and laughter reached us with no more form or substance than the piping of bats. I listened to the water trickle behind us.

'The world passes by’ murmured the Captain. I looked at him. He was staring at the shadows. I could not think of a reply, and perhaps none was needed, so I kept silent.

You are a country lad, Patch’ he said finally. You must have remarked, a thousand times, how of a summers evening great clouds of midges hang in the air, and that when you walk through them it is like passing through a curtain: the creatures part for you, and form themselves again behind your back. And save for one or two, perhaps, who have become entangled in your hair, it is as if you had never disturbed them at all. I have always thought of the world in that way’ I looked at him. 'Like gnats’ I said, cautiously.

'Look over there – and everywhere in this city and over the whole face of the earth – at how they swarm. I pass through them, and they part, and re-form as if I had never been’ 'I have had that very sensation’ I said quietly.

'Perhaps every man does. They seek to find a pattern in the swarm, to descry meaning. Perhaps they call it fate or destiny. Usually they choose to see God in the meaningless whirl. But there is no form. My faith teaches me that all life – all matter itself – is the creation of the Dark One, and to contemplate it is worthless and corrupting’ He shook his head. 'And I know that to be the truth. But then from out of the vast cloud, the whirling chaos, steps Baldwin de Courtenay, who holds the key to the Pharos Chapel. Patch, tonight I am like a disenchanted alchemist who, out of sheer habit, peers into his alembic and finds the Philosophers Stone. The great event, the goal of goals, that one gives one's life to prepare for while never really believing it will come to pass… The Pharos Chapel is that to me, and its key is my magical Stone. The world is not behaving itself, Patch. This smacks of fate, and I do not believe in fate’ 'Surely there is no deep mystery here, Captain’ I said, trying to sound light-hearted, although my mood was indeed guttering. 'Baldwin has been looking for you. He was fortunate, or skilful – though that seems doubtful – and found you. After all, you do not hide yourself, at least not here’

He sighed. 'Good sense, Patch, as always. You are absolutely right. What is troubling me is that this night's events are like nothing so much as the answer to a prayer. And I do not pray’ 'Baldwin does,' I told him. 'So what will you do?'

'Do?' He laughed, and all at once he seemed to grow cheerful again. ‘What will I do? What would the alchemist do, who finds the Philosopher's Stone?' He spread out his arms, and his cloak flew up around him like wings. For a moment the Captain was a magus of night, binding the city to his command. Then the cloak settled, and he was a man again.

The bells of every church in the Rione Campus Martius, with all the other belfries in the city, began to chime the nine bells of terce.

Gilles had awoken me at dawn. Opening my eyes, I found him squinting at me down his nose, like a surgeon in a mummers play.

You are rested? Not still in a drunken stupor? The Captain has need of you’

'I was not so drunk – I hardly drank anything last night’ I rasped indignantly, my leathery tongue giving the lie to my protest. And then, 'Has need of me? How so?' I asked, curious despite myself. 'He is taking you with him to see Baldwin’ I all but choked.

'Why, O Gilles, is the Captain taking me? It is much too weighty a matter’ I protested when I had recovered my breath.

'Aha!' he said, chuckling. Your perfect manners’ He smiled. 'Listen, Patch: I will not say more now, but I can at least tell you this. The Captain has a great liking for you, lad, as do I. You are a brighter light than most; you are young, and you have proved that you have the liver for our sort of work. If the Captain chooses to take you along to an important audience, perhaps he means you to learn something. Eyes open, yes? Eyes and ears’ 'And mouth shut tight?'