James Heneage - The Towers of Samarcand

‘We’ve not counted yet, lord. But it must be at least two hundred.’

Longo knew he should look happier at the news. After all, the village had proved itself. But he couldn’t rejoice amidst the cries of agony that rose from the streets around him. And the Turks would come again.

‘They’ll come again,’ he said.

Barbi turned to him. ‘Once they’ve taken Constantinople, yes, they’ll come. And they’ll bring their Venetian cannon.’ He paused. ‘Which is why I’m going there.’

‘To Venice?’

‘No, to Constantinople. Once I get word that the cannon have arrived, I’m going there to destroy them. So is Dimitri.’

Longo frowned. ‘But why? It’s not our battle.’

‘It’s everyone’s battle, all of us,’ said Dimitri quietly, leaning forward to help tie the bandage.

Longo changed the subject. ‘Did they do much damage?’ he asked.

Dimitri shook his head. ‘They burnt a warehouse in Lemnos and a few fields between there and here. But the village survives and we still have the mastic stored in the tower.’

They were all three silent after that, half listening to the celebrations around them. The Turks had sailed away and the day belonged to the men and women of Chios. The villagers had uncorked wine and some were already drunk. Every so often, a scream of pain rose above the laughter.

‘Should we stop that?’ asked Longo, looking out into the maze of streets.

It was Lara who answered. Lara, whom Dimitri had brought to the island and who was now his wife. Lara, who, with Fiorenza, had confounded the island’s snakes. She’d brought a torch to help with the dressing of Barbi’s wound. Now she doused it in the ground, turned to Longo and spoke softly. ‘Lord, these people have lost their children to slavery at the hands of those men. I doubt you could stop it even if you wanted to.’

Marchese thought of Dimitri and Lara’s child that was on its way. He looked down at the gentle curve of her belly and then up at the new day. He thought of Fiorenza. He should get back to her.

He rose and turned to Dimitri. ‘We have a traitor on this island, my friend. The Turks knew when to attack and where. We only just arrived in time.’

*

Towards evening, Fiorenza was still watching from the balcony at Sklavia when she saw two riders coming quickly across the fields, chased by horses without riders. She shielded her eyes from the sun. In five minutes they were there, Longo in her arms and Barbi bowing awkwardly behind him. They were wearing armour and their faces were streaked with black.

‘Thank God,’ she said, pulling away. ‘We were worried.’

‘We?’ asked Longo.

‘Me, the dogs, Giovanni. He’d stopped kicking.’ She brought her hands to her middle. ‘There, he’s started again. He knows you’re safe.

She had started calling the child inside her Giovanni, certain that it was a boy. Longo, less certain, smiled and put his hands over hers.

Fiorenza brought his hands to her lips. ‘Was it very fierce?’ She remembered Barbi and turned to him. ‘Did we lose many?’

‘None, lady,’ replied Barbi. ‘The village worked. We have Luke to thank.’

‘And you,’ said Longo, turning to the engineer. The dogs were now sitting on either side of him, looking up with devotion. He held a dog’s ear in each hand. ‘After all, you built them.’

‘But it was Luke’s design, Luke’s dream.’ Barbi glanced at Fiorenza. ‘We just interpreted it.’

Fiorenza thought back to the kendos , the celebration of the mastic harvest beside the sea where Luke had had the dream that had brought forth the villages. Her hand went back to her belly. ‘You must be tired and hungry.’

*

Much later, when they’d eaten and drunk and washed away the worst of the dirt, they talked about Barbi’s visit to Mistra. Fiorenza asked: ‘Is she very beautiful?’

The engineer smiled as he thought of Anna. ‘She’s nearly as beautiful as you, lady. She has red hair and green eyes and a face that might launch a thousand ships if they hadn’t already been put out for you.’

Fiorenza threw back her head and laughed. She’d never heard Barbi speak more than a sentence, certainly not one like that. ‘She’s clearly turned your head, engineer. Suddenly you’re a poet!’

Longo leant forward. ‘Unfortunately she’s turned Prince Suleyman’s as well. There’s some story of him meeting her when he first took an army to Mistra five years ago. He is infatuated with her and returned with another army soon after Benedo left. She’s in Edirne now.’

‘Does Luke know?’

Barbi shook his head. ‘I doubt it. It’s probably better that way.’

Fiorenza picked up her glass. Inside was iced water flavoured with lime. She took a sip and put the glass down with care. She turned to Barbi. ‘Does Luke know about me?’ She reached over and took her husband’s hand. ‘About us ?’

‘That you’re with child? Yes, Dimitri told him at Bursa.’ Barbi paused. ‘He was overwhelmed.’

‘As are we,’ laughed Longo. ‘It’s a miracle, nothing less.’

Barbi said, ‘He told us about Nicopolis as well. He didn’t betray the Christian army. He tried to save it. Plethon confirmed it in Mistra.’

Longo smiled. ‘I never thought that he did. He is a member of the campagna and therefore a man of honour.’

Fiorenza asked, ‘What happened after Nicopolis?’

Barbi stretched his legs. He was tired and wanted to go to bed. ‘You heard about the slaughter of the French knights? That Luke and his three friends survived because a gazi chief pointed out that the Holy Book forbids the execution of prisoners below a certain age?’

She nodded.

‘Well, after that he was sent to live amongst the tribes in the chief’s beylik . He’s there now. And he survived a Venetian assassination attempt on the way.’

Fiorenza looked up quickly. She was frowning. ‘Venetian?’

‘A man called di Vetriano whom I’d already met in Alexandria. A poisonous species. He’s dead now.’

She asked, ‘Why did he want to kill Luke?’

Barbi’s eyes still stung from the soot. He put his fingers to them, massaging the lids. ‘The Serenissima seemed to have got it into its head that mastic could cure the plague and that Luke knew the compound that would do it.’ He paused. ‘It can’t of course, any more than it can fix dye. People are getting over-excited.’

Fiorenza had gone very quiet. The frown was still on her brow and she appeared to be thinking hard. She didn’t react when Barbi asked leave to retire. Longo smiled. ‘Benedo, my wife is distracted. Of course you must go to bed.’

The engineer rose, bowed, and removed himself from the terrace.

Longo rose and looked down at his wife. ‘I should follow him.’ He paused. ‘You were thinking of the Venetians?’

Fiorenza nodded slowly. ‘I was thinking that they seem to spread their malice everywhere.’

Longo yawned. ‘Well, the Turks certainly knew where to go tonight. They landed at Limenas and marched straight to Mesta.’

‘You still suspect the Medici agent?’

The Medici bankers of Florence had lent the campagna the money to build the maze-villages. Most of it had been repaid. Longo inclined his head. ‘There’s no reason for Tommaso Bardolli to be still on this island; the bank has no office here. And the Medici are friends with Venice. They’ve lent them the money to re-equip the Arsenale to build ships and cannon for the Turk.’

Fiorenza nodded. ‘And I’m told Bardolli spends much of his time riding around the south of the island.’

Longo yawned again. ‘In six months we’ll have enough money to repay the full loan,’ he said. ‘I’ll go to Florence then and ask for Signor Bardolli to be given a new posting.’