Tom Swan and the Head of St. George Part Six: Chios by Christian Cameron Read Free Book Online Page B

hip was a grinding spit of iron, and the armour was a prison, and every muscle in his back and shoulders whined and moaned or screamed in agony. He paused, and for a moment he considered simply sitting under the wall and going to sleep.
    Sleep.
    He looked up the hill of the great fortress’s interior from the main gate. But the palazzo was dark – even the cressets at the doors were extinguished.
    He turned and began to walk down the cobbles to the gatehouse. It suddenly seemed very far, and he felt very foolish. In fact, he laughed aloud.
    His feet were loud on the stones.
    He emerged from the gatehouse and turned to look at the aristocrats and their party, but they weren’t people he knew – he saw one older man from the festival at the palace, but the others were strangers – and he couldn’t very well ask whether they’d seen a princess of the blood wandering loose.
    ‘Christ, I’m a fool,’ he said, and started down the road.
    As soon as he heard the footsteps behind him, he thought of Drappierro’s warning – that he had people on Lesvos. He whirled, the German long sword coming silkily out of its scabbard.
    Princess Theodora stood behind him. Her face was clear in the moonlight.
    ‘I followed your laugh,’ she said. ‘I hear you are a fool.’ She raised an arched eyebrow. ‘The sword is, I promise you, unnecessary.’
    ‘Who says I am a fool?’ Swan asked, his heart beating harder than it had in the sea fight.
    ‘An expert,’ she said. She came close to him – so close that suddenly her eyes were alive in the moonlight and he could feel the heat of her body. She paused and put a hand on his arm. ‘You stink, Englishman.’
    Swan laughed. ‘There were fish,’ he said. Which was suddenly a very funny thing to say.
    She nodded. ‘I’d say there was also blood, and worse,’ she said. ‘I happen to know where there is a great deal of water.’ She raised her face, and her lips brushed his, and then she was away into the darkness.
    ‘That’s all I dare,’ she said. ‘I’d hate to be overwhelmed, and faint.’
    Fatigue forgotten, he chased her into the darkness.
    In the morning, the Katherine Sturmy weighed anchor and sailed away, north and west. And the order’s fleet rowed out of the harbour, and turned south, towards Chios. A Thames wherry was roped down amidships on the Blessed Saint John’ s deck, and Swan stood by the helmsman, bleary-eyed with fatigue.
    Just before the bells would have struck for nones, with Mytilini almost lost in the day-haze behind them and Mount Olympos plain as day on their starboard side, Fra Tommaso sent for Swan in the aft cabin.
    ‘I’m guessing you had mass this morning,’ Fra Tommaso said.
    Swan nodded soberly. He had left Princess Theodora by a postern gate that opened – magically – without a knock, and had proceeded, carrying his breastplate, to the grotto church, where he’d heard mass in the pre-dawn darkness. He wasn’t sure whether he’d had any sleep or not. It was all like a dream.
    ‘You’ll still go through with this?’ Tommaso asked. His voice was dry. He was very much the same as he had been in their first days together. He handed Swan a glass of sweet wine. ‘Listen, lad. You are a passable liar and a fine sword, and with a little humility, you might make a man. If you do this – the odds are you’ll die hard, and for nothing.’
    Swan frowned. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’ Some time in the darkness, instead of mumbling endearments, she had said my world is ending. He had promised her. She had also told him not to trust Zambale. What could possibly be wrong with Zambale?
    What’s wrong with me? Swan thought. Tommaso was offering him a way out, and he was eager to go.
    Tommaso narrowed his eyes. ‘Let me try this another way,’ he said. ‘I’d far rather that you sailed away now – or had left last night with the Sturmys – than that you went to Chios and … betrayed us.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry.’
    Swan