Free Ilario, the Stone Golem by Mary Gentle Page B

quarter, and
    finally approached the Grand Canal. We emerged on the edge of that
    wide thoroughfare at the foot of the Rialto Bridge.
    Berenguer glanced at Honorius for permission, and fell in beside me as
    we walked in under the wooden roof that capped the bridge.
    ‘We’ve arranged a public place for the exchange.’ Berenguer’s grin
    showed two teeth missing, far back on the left side. ‘Less chance of
    anybody cheating . . . ’
    The sides of the bridge were also walled with solid planks, but no man
    could see that except from the outside. Inside, too many shop-booths
    blocked the line of sight; goods piled up clear to the bridge’s roof. We picked a way up the wide stone steps, between merchants and gossiping
    servants; groups of men purchasing goods or changing money; woman
    accompanied by male relatives or armed servants.
    I shook my head, amazed. ‘Federico approached you directly?’
    Berenguer gave that kind of shrug that invites discrete admiration.
    ‘Sent one of his servants. But I’d seen the man at that palazzo, when you
    went after the secretary. Told him I wouldn’t talk to anybody but his
    master.’
    ‘And Federico agreed ?’
    If that’s the case, Honorius will not be so far from the mark if he
    describes my foster father as desperate.
    ‘Yeah. Next time, sure enough, there’s Lord Weasel – beg pardon,
    Lord Federico – muffled up to the eyes, and telling me that he knows
    we’re mercenaries, we’re for hire, and he can offer us a better contract
    than Captain-General Honorius—’ Berenguer put up his hand, as if to
    say you’ve heard nothing! , and added, ‘His first offer is, every man who comes in on this can get a place in Lord Carmagnola’s Venetian army,
    and have a share of the plunder of Milan, along with Lord Weasel’s hefty

bribe—’
    Attila stepped up on Berenguer’s other side, towering a full head
    above us. He had braided his beard, but left his mane of hair loose; any
    man could believe him an eater of babies and easily hired murderer. He
    snorted. ‘The General and Lord Carmagnola fought together, up north,
    so he’d have our arses skinned if we even thought about this!’
    Berenguer grinned. ‘Lord Weasel thinks we’re too dumb to know that.
    So I ask: what will Lord Federico pay in cold cash? And he says: every
    man can have a safeguarded voyage to the mainland, a saddlebag of
    gold, and a horse to ride away on. All we have to do is bring him the General’s son-daughter, so she can be put away in a convent, safe and
    sound!’
    Ahead, at the top of the steps, I could see light. The open drawbridge
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    section of the Rialto, that is winched up to let tall-masted boats through
    on their way up the Canal Grande.
    ‘Kidnapped and put in a convent.’ I glanced at Honorius, but he had
    already fallen back into the crowd of armed men, indistinguishable as
    their captain. Tottola moved in on my flank, a mirror-image of Attila’s
    Germanic wildness.
    Berenguer gave me an apologetic glance and took hold of my elbow.
    ‘Lord Weasel, he sounded like he believed it. But if he’s your foster dad,
    he’d want to, wouldn’t he? This Lord back in Taraco, this Aldra
    Videric, he didn’t mind sending men to kill us. I don’t reckon you’d ever
    see the inside of any convent.’
    ‘No.’ My pulse jolted, chest feeling hollow. The muscles and tendons
    at the back of my knees pulled, walking up the steps, after so long
    recovering from Physician Baris¸’s surgery.
    Berenguer scanned the crowds blocking the steps. ‘Anyhow, I told
    Lord Weasel as how he’d have to give us gold. And a ship to get off this
    island. He bargained a bit, but he agreed. Normally, I’d reckon he’d tell
    the Doge we stole his money and have us taken up and hanged for theft,
    but he can’t risk us talking. Not that it matters . . . ’
    The crowds became no thinner at the high arch of the Rialto Bridge. I
    found myself in the midst of cloaked men who might be conspicuous in
    their