The First Evening

 “Procurator, it’s good to see Taranto’s returning to normal.”

“Indeed, it is, Renaldo.”

From their position at the mouth of a side street, Marl gazed out over the market square. It was much like he remembered it before the war. Along the sides, merchants had set up their stalls. Brightly coloured awnings half hid the booths and the piles of clothes, pans, trinkets, and other goods on sale. A small crowd clustered around each one. Marl could hear the merchants in the nearest stalls loudly haggling with customers.

His gaze rose taking in the houses that surrounded the plaza. The red brick and half-timber houses with their pale amber or off-white plaster, the beams painted black or left to weather to grey, provided a vivid display. The late afternoon sun lit up the eastern side. Cutting top from bottom the skyline of the sunward side shadowed on the wall opposite formed a jagged line. Above the buildings shone brightly. Below, the colours were muted.

Most of the houses had their windows open. From these washing of every colour of the rainbow had been hung out to take advantage of the fine spring weather. Unusually for the time of year, Taranto had been warmed by a long dry period. Marl noted that here and there someone gazed out from a window or balcony at the scene below.

Everything he told himself was as it should be. His worry that the criminality brought on with the war with Pisa had somehow changed Taranto beyond recognition was just that—a worry. The scene in front of him brought back memories of his childhood and the pranks he and friends got up to. His mind wandered back to those days. Their chases around the stalls in this very square followed by the angry cries of the merchants as they barrelled into the booths or passers-by in their wild escapades. He checked to see if any young ruffians were continuing the tradition. But all was as it should be.

“There’s merchants from Trieste here, look.” The sergeant pointed at a brightly coloured stall towards one of the corners. “That’s Girardi, I’m sure.”

“I believe you’re right. It does seem like old times, doesn’t it?”

Then a sound caught Marl’s attention. A man in rags was staggering across the square. The town folk were stepping out of his way as he lurched and waved as he came. He wore tattered dark-coloured trousers that had been tucked into his boots and a loose-fitting shirt over which he had on a brightly patterned waistcoat. Marl immediately recognised him as a mercenary. One of the ones hired for the war.

The man turned to yell something at someone. That person gestured in Marl’s direction.

Renaldo had also seen the motion. He turned to the watchmen standing behind him. “Guardsmen, arrest that drunk.”

Four watchmen, recognisable by the demi-armour and red trousers and shirt stepped forward. They held their halberds at the ready.

Marl raised his hand. “Wait. I’ll talk to him.”

The men stopped and looked towards the sergeant.

Renaldo gestured at the mercenary. “Procurator, he’s filth. Let the men see to him.”

“He’s drunk. And he’s angry.” Marl understood why the man was berating the Tarantians. He reminded the sergeant of the reason. “He was paid to fight for us, Renaldo, and now the Republic won’t pay him. He has a right to be angry.”

“He got plenty. We all paid for their like. They’re scum. Cowards. Men without honour.” He spat at the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marl saw that the man must have spotted them for he turned around and made for one of the streets leading off the square. He even managed to walk without staggering.

“Leave him. Unless he starts a fight, we’ve no reason to take him in.”

“Him being here,” the sergeant indicated the marketplace, “is reason enough.”

“Not while I’m in charge.”

“Let me send some men after him.” He noticed Marl’s scowl. “Just to keep an eye on things.”

“Very well.” He turned to the watchmen. “There’s to be no arrest unless he breaches the peace.”

Renaldo pointed at the waiting guardsmen. “Do as the procurator says.”

The watchmen saluted with their halberds and set off after the mercenary.

Marl watched them go. As they got near the booths, they vanished into the crowd. Only their halberds, visible above the throng, showed where they were. Not all the problems from the war, he realised, were over. With mercenaries frequenting the city waiting to be paid what they considered their dues, there was always the potential for trouble. He wondered what he could do to keep the peace.

There was shouting in the lane behind them. Marl turned to see what this new commotion was about. The people in the narrow street were moving to the edges as a watchman, bellowing loudly, ran towards them. The runner must have spotted them for he waved and swerved to make for them.

“It’s Georgio, procurator, one of the new recruits.”

Panting heavily, Georgio stopped in front of Marl. He tried to stand to attention and salute but wheezed and doubled over. He quickly righted himself. He looked from Renaldo to Marl and back again.

“At ease, watchman. Give us your report.” Marl knew better than to berate him.

“Trouble.” He paused for breath between the words. “Robbery. Hostages.”

“Where’s this, Georgio?”

“Near the Martingale Tower. It’s the Romanos’ house.”

Marl gestured at Renaldo. “We must go and deal with this.” He slapped Georgio’s arm. “When you can, go to Grinaldi and tell him to send some more men.” Marl gestured at the remaining watchmen. “Follow me.”

He set off at a jog along the lane. He didn’t check to see if he was being followed. Renaldo would make sure the men, even in the armour they wore, would keep up. Very quickly he turned off down an alley before turning onto another street. Having grown up and lived all his life in Taranto, he knew the quickest ways of getting across town. Unlike those near the marketplace, this one was mostly devoid of people. The few he encountered as he ran along rapidly got out of the way recognising his watchman’s uniform.

After several more turns, he rounded a corner and spotted the top of a tower at the end of the street. The Martingale. He knew the area, but not well. Their size and the inscriptions painted across the face of the half-timbered houses to either side indicated they belonged to the wealthier sort of Tarantian. He noted each had a loft for storing merchandise and beams above that jutted out over the street with the ropes for their hoists dangling from them. Marl clucked. These were just the kind of houses worth robbing. There would be money and possessions.

Near the end of the street, he spotted a watchman, halberd at the ready, keeping vigil at a door. The man turned as Marl made towards him.

“Procurator, thank the deities you’re here.”

“What’s going on?” Marl panted it out.

“There’s men in there robbing the place.” The watchman indicated the house in front of him before he gazed behind Marl.

Marl turned to see what it was. A short distance away Renaldo grimaced at him as he walked towards the pair. He was visibly exhausted. Behind him, the four watchmen with him were gasping as they tried to keep up.

Renaldo cast a glance at the door before turning his gaze on the guardsman. “Where’s the rest of your watch?”

“Matteo and Lorenzo are around the back looking for a way to get in. We sent Georgio to get help as he’s the fastest runner.”

“You did right.” Renaldo caught Marl’s eye.

“Well done. We’re here and you’ve done a good job.” The watchman visibly relaxed.

Marl went over to the door and tried the latch. As he expected, the door refused to budge. He tried to butt it in with his shoulder. Nothing. He stepped back and inspected the building. The ground floor windows were small and had thick iron bars set into the lintels to prevent access. The first-floor ones, where the half-timbering began, were bigger and without bars but unreachable without a ladder. The second and third floor windows would have also suited but were even further out of reach. The loft doors were closed, and the hoist ropes disappeared into a cut out section. No help there. As he feared, the house was a veritable fortress. He knew the back would be equally well protected. His gaze focused on the door again. He realised they would have to batter their way in alerting the robbers of their intentions. It gave him the germ of a plan. He turned to the guardsman.

“Do we know how many robbers there are?”

“No, sir.”

At this point Matteo and Lorenzo came around the end of the house. They stopped when they spotted the group.

Renaldo gestured at them to come over. “You find a way in?”

“No, sergeant. Back door’s locked shut.”

Renaldo stroked his beard. He turned to Marl. “We could blockade the house and force them out.”

At this Matteo spoke up. “There’s people in house, sergeant. We heard ‘em screaming.”

“Right.” Marl indicated the watch should guard the doors. He then walked over to the house opposite and banged on the door. After a delay he could hear a bolt and then a second one being pulled back. A viewing window in the door opened. A face gazed at him.

“Procurator Marl of the watch. I need you to let me in.”

The face peered past him taking in the other watchmen. The head nodded. The face vanished. The peep window closed. Marl heard more bolts being drawn and then the door opened.

“Just you.”

“That will be fine.” Marl walked past the man who had spoken. He decided he must be the butler. He heard the door close and the bolts lock behind him. “Is your master in?”

The butler gave him an acid glower. “Up stair.”

The man led him into a small, gloomy hallway. Its walls were dark-stained wooden panels. The only light was a small window high up. On one side a flight of stairs went up to the next level. On the other, a large painting of a carrack under sail in heavy seas dominated the wall.

The stairs squeaked as they went up them. On the first floor, the butler took him along a short landing, knocked and then opened the door, preceding Marl into the room.

“Lord Decatur, there’s a watchman here to see you.”

The room was sumptuous compared to the hall. A carpet covered most of the wooden floor. Four upholstered armchairs were positioned around the fireplace. The hearth had been set but no fire burned. Landscape paintings decorated the wood panelled walls. Near the opposite wall was a large polished wooden desk. Resting on it, but unlit, was a candelabra. Beside this was an inkwell and pens. Papers were neatly stacked on one side. All this Marl took in in an instant.

His attention quickly turned to the master. Decatur sat in one of the armchairs. He was giving Marl a searching examination.

“You may leave us, Francesco.”

“Yes, me lord.” The butler glanced at Marl before he withdrew. Marl heard the door shut with a click.

“And what brings the procurator to my house? I trust we haven’t broken some law?”

“No, my lord. I’m here because there’re robbers in the house opposite.”

Decatur jumped up. “What? At the Romanos? How’s this possible?” He rushed over to the window and gazed out, first at the street below and then at the house opposite.

Marl joined him. Just as he expected, he could see into the room opposite. Not much, but something. A flash caught his eye. It seemed to be moving. “What can you tell me of the Romanos?”

Decatur turned to face Marl. “You’ll rescue them, right? That’s your job.”

“Are they in the house?”

“Nicolo hardly goes out these days. Ever since the war…” He stopped. “What can I do to help you?”

“The house’s hard to break into. I…” Marl pointed at the window opposite. “I need to get to that window.”

Decatur stared at the window and then at Marl. “I can’t see how.”

“Your house, I note, like the others has a hoist. If we use this, I can swing over and smash my way in through the window.”

Decatur turned and gazed out of the window before returning his gaze to Marl. “You’ll kill yourself.”

“There’s a chance I do. But I think not. If I can get access to the house, I can open the door for my men.”

Decatur hesitated a moment then turned and made for the door. “Come.”

It was less than five minutes later when Marl emerged from the house. He noted as instructed his men had taken up positions around the door to the Romanos’ home. Marl waved to Renaldo. “A word, sergeant.”

Renaldo ran over. “Yes, procurator.”

“This is what we’re going to do…” Marl quickly explained his plan.

“But it’s so dangerous.”

“Do you see any other way, Renaldo?”

The sergeant rubbed at his beard for a moment, his eyes searching the building. He eventually shrugged his shoulders. “No, I don’t.”

Marl sighed. “Neither do I, but the Romanos are prisoners in there and we’ve got to rescue them.”

“You really care about these people, don’t you, sir? Not many would.” He nodded towards the guardsmen.

“I suppose I do.” He wasn’t sure he did. He didn’t want to see evil triumph and good people get hurt.

Marl slapped the sergeant on his shoulder. “Wish me luck, then.”

He went back into Decatur’s house. As he climbed the stairs to the top floor, he began to doubt what he was doing. By the time he had climbed out onto the roof, the hoist rope in his hands, and could see the drop into the street and how far the window opposite was, he knew he was taking a great risk.

He whistled as loudly as he could and then listened. A few moments later there were cries and shouts followed a by reverberating thud. Then another one.

After the fourth one, he took a deep breath and holding tightly to the rope wound round his wrists ran towards the roof edge, his boots clattering on the slates. He leapt towards the window opposite. As he plunged into the abyss, he just hoped that the counterweight on the other end of the cord had been set correctly.

He sailed towards the window. It came towards him with frightening rapidity. Marl hadn’t the time to prepare himself before he smashed into it. It shattered and he plunged through to hit the floor and roll up against a chair.

Then the counterweight began to drag him back out. Marl desperately tried to untangle himself from the rope. He was halfway out of the window before he managed to untie himself.

He lay half in, half out panting. His body screamed hurt everywhere. His face felt as if he’d been bitten by a swarm of bees. He lifted his hands and gazed at all the small cuts. Blood oozed out of them.

Ignoring the pain, he tried to get up, only to stumble. Then he heard a noise behind him. He turned to see in a corner of the room a young woman, her hands to her face, staring at him wide-eyed in horror. From her garb, a pale blue embroidered dress too ornate for a servant, he decided she was family. Her mouth gaped open.

“I won’t hurt you.” His assurances only seemed to terrify her the more. He kept his voice low and steady. “Where are they?”

Shakily, she pointed at the door.

Slowly so as not to frighten her, but also because his body objected to any movement, Marl got to his feet. He felt for his sword and unsheathed it. He gestured at the youngster. “You stay here.” She nodded. Marl felt pity for her given her situation. There was nothing he could do for her that he wasn’t already doing.

He stumbled towards the door. Propping himself up against the wall he opened it slightly. He could hear shouting. It seemed to be coming from downstairs. He stuck his head out. There was no one on the landing. Then, near the top of the stairs he spotted a body. From the man’s attire, he must have been a servant. Nearby lay a cudgel. Marl immediately understood the man had tried to resist the robbers. It had cost him his life. As he feared, Marl realised he was dealing with ruthless men. He had to act accordingly.

Marl edged out, warily trying to make sense of the noise. He limped to the top of the stairs just as there was a loud thud. A few moments later, another one. He smiled. His men were nothing if not determined in their efforts to break in. And for all he knew, they might succeed. But as he had hoped, they were keeping the robbers occupied.

En garde against anyone coming up the stairs, he started down. They creaked at every step. He silently cursed the carpenter who had made them.

He was nearly down when he heard a sound. A moment later a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs, sword in hand.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marl launched himself at him.

The man spotted him just before Marl’s sword pierced his chest. He let out a loud grunt as Marl tumbled on top of him. The two of them crashed to the ground.

Winded, Marl scrambled to his feet. He quickly scanned the hall. No one.

He gazed down at his victim. He lay blood oozing out of the wound in his chest. His clothes marked him out as a mercenary. If not dead, Marl knew he was seriously incapacitated. One down, he decided. He listened. Someone was shouting in the vestibule, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. As he expected, it meant the front door was guarded.

Marl limped off towards the back and the door to the garden.

He was just about to enter the scullery when a man stepped out. “Geor__”

Marl stabbed him with his sword.

The robber reeled back into the scullery, his free hand clutching at his chest, but stayed on his feet.

Marl charged in after him.

The robber whipped his sword in Marl’s direction. Marl just avoided being cut by the blade.

“Help me! One of the guards has broken in.” The mercenary twirled his blade to keep Marl at bay.

Marl knew he had to best the man before he called his buddies. He slammed the door shut and advanced on the bandit.

The man backed off whilst holding up his sword to defend himself. It rotated in a cavazione.

Seeing the way the mercenary handled his weapon, Marl realised he was no amateur. He took a good look at his adversary. His clothes marked him as another mercenary. There was a damp patch on the mercenary’s chest from the stab wound.

Finish him quickly, Marl told himself. He lunged.

The other parried. The way the man deflected his blade made Marl realise the man had considerable skill with the sword. It was not going to be an easy fight even though the mercenary was wounded.

Marl tried a cockstep.

The man feigned. Struck back.

Marl batted the blade away. But it nicked his left arm. He felt a stab of pain there.

The robber snarled.

Marl attempted another lunge.

The mercenary deflected the blade, whipping back to strike.

Marl parried and nearly suffered another wound.

It was turning into a dangerous stalemate. The door to the outside was over to Marl’s left. If he could get to it, he might be able to unlock it whilst holding off his adversary.

He swirled his blade at his opponent whilst advancing.

The man retreated.

When Marl judged he could get to the door, keeping his opponent in view he backed over to it.

The mugger must have realised what Marl was up to for he charged at him, yelling.

“Guard scum!”

Marl blocked the thrust. Then kicked out at the man. He felt his boot contact the man’s leg.

The robber screamed and staggered back.

Marl stabbed at him. Missed. Then again. He felt the blade strike.

The man grunted then staggered before sinking to his knees.

Marl turned to unlock one of the bolts. It was nearly his death.

Two more men, also mercenaries by their outfits, thundered into the scullery.

Marl quickly turned to face them.

“It’s a watchman!” The shouter tried to impale Marl.

Marl deflected the blade only to have to parry the second man’s strike. He stepped back only to realise he had no room to retreat. To one side he heard glass shattering. He daren’t look as the two men were preparing to finish him off.

In a coordinated way, the men advanced, swords rotating to keep him guessing.

Marl tried to keep his attention on both.

The left one whirled his blade.

Marl batted at it.

The other one tried to stab him.

Marl swung to parry only to realise he was exposing himself to the first.

Instead of striking home, the man on his left grunted. He stopped his attack, his eyes on the quarrel sticking out of his chest. He toppled backwards.

Marl lunged at the other one.

The man parried before retreating. A bolt hit the wall beside the robber. He glanced at it.

Marl could see panic on his face.

Keeping Marl in sight the man retreated towards the door. Once there, he turned and ran off.

Marl ignored the mercenary’s escape, went to the back door, reached down and shot back the second bolt. Someone must have heard it for the door burst open nearly knocking him off his feet.

“You alright, sir?”

Marl grinned at Renaldo as he entered, sword at the ready, with two other watchmen behind him.

“I’m fine.” Marl pointed at the door to the hallway. “One of them has got away.”

“He won’t get far.” Renaldo gestured to the guardsmen to follow him and went out into the hall. Marl followed.

Renaldo made for the front door and opened it. The men there entered. Now there were seven. A quick search of the downstairs indicated there was no one there.

Back in the hallway Marl gazed up the stairs. He did not relish the idea of fighting his way up. He put his foot on the first step. It creaked.

“Let us handle this, sir, you’re wounded.”

Marl turned to see Renaldo gazing intently at his arm.

Marl examined the wound. He was still bleeding, but not much. It throbbed. He tried moving his arm. He would be able to manage. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” Marl shook his head. “I’ll go first.”

“Then perhaps I should go second?”

Marl turned towards the voice. Coming out of door to the scullery, he was surprised to see a stranger, a townsman, an artisan judging by his clothes, a small crossbow in each hand. He smiled at Marl’s discomfiture.

He held up one of the weapons. “They’ll be easy pickings if they try to hold the stairs.”

Marl nodded. “It seems you’re about to do me a second good turn, citizen.”

“Varnix, the apothecary, at your service.” He half bowed then gestured up the stairs with one of the bows. “We don’t like this sort of thing in Taranto.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Marl gestured to Renaldo. “Follow us.”

Marl started up the steps. He heard a noise above him. Looking up, he spotted the man he had just been fighting. The man withdrew.

Marl continued up. There were unintelligible shouts from the first floor. Then a woman screamed. Marl rushed up the last of the stairs just as another of the robbers came out of the front room, the one with the window he had crashed through to get into the house.

Holding up a half-pike at the attack, the man rushed at Marl. There was a twang behind Marl, and the man grunted before tripping and stumbling to end up sprawled on the floor just in front of him. The feathered end of a quarrel protruded from the man’s head.

Marl stepped over the casualty and headed for the room. The door was open. He did not enter but glanced in.

Three of the bandits, two new ones and the one he had fought earlier, were there lurking behind an old woman, the girl Marl had seen earlier, and an old man in a long flowing robe. Marl realised the last must be Nicolo. They were being held hostage. Marl examined the bandits. Mercenaries, the three of them. As far as he could tell, none of the robbers had a polearm—just swords.

Marl stepped in, at the same time noticing the blood on the old woman’s dress. The old man seemed untouched. All eyes were upon him.

The mercenaries raised their weapons.

“Come any closer and we’ll kill them.” This was from the one behind the old man. He was better dressed than the other two in a patterned gillet and loose sleeved shirt. He also wore thigh-high boots. He had all the hallmarks of a bravazzo.

“It was to be a robbery, Ronzo. I didn’t agree to us murdering townsfolk.”

“Shut it, Lukas.”

Marl took a step forward. He heard the watchmen enter behind him.

“I mean it!” Ronzo raised his sword as if to strike the old man. He pointed behind Marl. “Tell your man to put down his bow.”

Marl felt himself being nudged. “It’s risky but I could take out one of them.” Varnix barely whispered the words.

“You touch one of them and it’ll be a slow death for you all.” Marl gestured with his free hand. “You’re surrounded. We outnumber you. You can’t escape. Surrender.”

“You don’t believe me, do you!” Ronzo whipped his sword around and stabbed the old man.

The old fellow dropped to the ground.

The women screamed.

There was a twang and the leftmost robber, the one Marl had fought with earlier, spun around a bolt in his shoulder.

“We agreed we’d not hurt them!” This came from the middle one, Lukas. He turned on Ronzo. “Stop it!”

The bravazzo sneered at him. “Don’t be such a child!”

Lukas and ran him through.

Ronzo staggered gazing wide-eyed at Lukas before crumpling to the ground.

Lukas dropped the sword. “I surrender.”

The guardsmen behind Marl surged past him and savagely knocked the two mercenaries to the ground. The wounded one shrieked as he hit the floor.

Marl rushed forward to see what he could do for the old man. He knelt down beside him. He was coughing up blood. A shadow. Varnix was on his knees beside him.

“His lung’s been punctured.” Varnix shook his head. “He’s dying.”

Marl had already reached the same conclusion. He’d been too late. He silently cursed himself. He turned his attention to the women. The older one was white with shock. The girl was crying. A sudden anger surged through him. Anger at himself for failing to rescue the old man. At the city for hiring mercenaries. At the dead swashbuckler. At his own actions. He got up and savagely kicked the dead bravazzo. The corpse rolled over. The dead man seemed to grin up at him, mockingly.

“Bastard.”

He felt like pummelling the others but managed to restrain himself. It would set a bad example for the watch. He glowered at the two prisoners. To calm himself, he carefully sheathed his sword.

Lukas got to his feet. He gazed at Marl. There was sorrow written all over his face. “I didn’t want this to happen.” He pointed at Ronzo. “He persuaded me to join him in robbing this house. I was stupid to agree. I had no idea we’d end up torturing and murdering these poor people. I’m ashamed of what’s been done here.” He opened his arms wide. “Do with me as you will.”

Marl looked him in the eye. “It’s not for me to choose your punishment. The magistrate will decide.” He gestured at the guards. “Take them to the jail and lock them up. But no beatings.”

Renaldo went over to the two robbers and proceeded to tie their hands behind their back. When he moved the wounded man’s arms, he howled. Renaldo laughed.

Varnix gestured at the two women. “I’ll stay and help Mrs Romanos and her daughter.”

“I’ll send for a doctor.”

“That would be good.”

Renaldo grabbed the two prisoners and manhandled them towards the door. The watchmen formed an escort around them. They went out the door. Marl followed as they went down the stairs and emerged into the street. The party halted by the door. Marl muscled his way to the front.

Decatur, with a half-dozen men armed with a variety of weapons at his side, was blocking the way. He gestured at the prisoners. “Are these the criminals?”

“My lord, they are under arrest for robbery and murder.”

“We,” Decatur turned to indicate the men beside him, “will deal with them.”

“I cannot allow that, my lord. It’s for the magistrate to judge them, according to the law.”

“They’re filth.” He spat at the wounded one’s face. “They’ll be sent to the mines, you’ll see. But they should hang for their crimes.” Decatur took a half-step forward. The men beside him tensed, fiddling with their weapons.

In response, Marl took a step forward. “Make way for the watch!”

Suddenly, one of the avengers rushed forward, sword in hand, and stabbed the wounded man. The mercenary screamed, then fell to the ground.

The striker scuttled behind the other vigilantes.

Lukas dropped to his knees beside the fallen mercenary. A moment later he got to his feet. “He’s dead.”

Marl unsheathed his sword. Wielding it, he gestured to the watchmen and then at the striker. “Arrest that man.”

Decatur held up his hand. “He’s done no wrong.”

Marl scowled at Decatur. “He’s committed murder.”

The vigilantes brandished their weapons in a threatening manner. The man who had stabbed the prisoner lingered behind the line. Marl could see the scared look on his face.

The watchmen faced them, pikes at the ready. For a moment it was a standoff.

Marl pointed his sword at the killer. “Surrender!”

Decatur waved his sword in the air in a menacing manner. “Defend your own.”

Marl could sense a fight brewing. “Stand down! If you raise your weapons against the watch, you’ll hang for sure!”

“Hold fast!” Decatur gestured with his sword at his men.

Marl raised his sword and pointed. “Lord Decatur if you and your men do not step aside, my men will arrest you all, by force if necessary.”

Decatur’s face took on an ugly hue.

“We don’t want a fight.” Marl pointed at the assailant. “He’s under arrest for murder. Assist him and it will be the worse for you.”

Decatur’s gaze turned to the killer and then his men. Marl could see the indecision on his face. “Stand aside.” His men hesitated. He waved at them. They withdrew a couple of steps.

At this, the attacker tried to escape but several of the guardsmen moved quickly to block him. Almost at once, the man faced three men armed with halberds pointing at him. Marl could read the fear on his face.

Renaldo went over to the man, relieved him of his sword, and cuffed him hard. He half pulled, half dragged the man over to join Lukas. The man turned to Decatur as if seeking guidance.

Decatur glowered at Marl. He flapped at the men beside him. “Let them pass.”

“Wise decision, my lord.” He paused to formulate his thoughts. He pointed at the Romanos’ home. “If you want to help, call for a doctor. There’s hurt people in there.” He gestured at the dead robber. “And you can bury him.”

“I’ll not forget this.” Decatur waved his arms in the air. The vigilantes began to disperse.

Marl nodded at Renaldo.

“Forward men.” The guardsmen started off, pushing the prisoners ahead of them.

As Marl followed behind the watchmen, he heard Decatur shout out to him. “You’ve not heard the last of this.” Marl knew he had made an enemy.

They headed towards the dock area where the city prison was. It meant taking the main street. As they debouched from the alley they had been going down into the thoroughfare, the squad came face to face with a contingent of liveried servants coming up the street. At its centre was an old man in a red flowing robe and matching cap.

Dressed in a more elaborate version of the same uniform of the blue and yellow as the rest, a domestic gestured frantically at the watchmen. “Make way for Senator Valparaiso.”

“Marl. Marl, is that you?” The red robbed man pushed through his entourage towards him.

“Senator, this is a surprise. I wouldn’t have expected you to be out so late.”

“It isn’t sundown yet.”

But it was obvious the day was ending. There was the warm glow of the late afternoon sun touching the tops of the buildings. Already, the street had a sombreness to it presaging twilight.

Valparaiso grinned at Marl. “It is well met.” He looked Marl up and down before tusk-tusking. “What have you been doing? Getting into a fight?”

“Something like that, sir.”

Valparaiso gestured at his retainers. “Give us space. I need to talk to the procurator.” The men shuffled away. “Perhaps your guardsmen have duties, procurator?”

Renaldo looked expectantly at Marl.

“Of course, senator.” He nodded at his sergeant. Renaldo barked an order and the watchmen shoved their captives forward. They pushed through Valparaiso’s servants and disappeared down the street.

Valparaiso took Marl’s arm and led him a little way up the alley. “It’s best if we speak without being overheard.”

Marl said nothing.

“There’s a special meeting of the Senate tonight. That’s where I’m headed. The situation here in Taranto is running out of control. You wouldn’t believe what’s going on in the chamber. Regemar and Chabral’s supporters are at each other’s throats. Next it will spread out across the city. Mark my words, you’ll be unable to keep the peace.”

“It’s not that bad, sir. There’s been no sign of trouble.”

“It’s about to, Marl. The election’s ten days away. The city will erupt into civil war before then.”

“You think it’s that serious?” Marl gazed around him. As far as he could tell people were going about their daily business. There was no sign of violence, if you discounted the usual crimes. Or murderous mercenary elements.

“It’s happened before.” Valparaiso pulled out a tattered leather-bound book from his pocket. “But I have a plan and you’re part of it.”

“Me, sir?”

“In the past when disaster threatened, Taranto appointed a dictator. A man to take charge with absolute authority. We should have done that during the war and not relied on those incompetents on the war council. If I’d only known what we’d done in the past when the war was going against us.” He stuffed the book back into his pocket. “But I did not. I only found out about it two days ago reading this old history book.” He patted the pocket with the book in it.

“And how does this concern me, sir?”

“Ah, yes. Well, my lad, I’m proposing you to be appointed dictator to deal with the current troubles.”

“Me?”

“I’ve known you a long time. I’ve helped you along, spoke up for you when you were a candidate for ensign, when you made lieutenant, and most recently the procuratorship. I know you’ve got the best intentions. You’d be right for the position.”

“I thank you for your confidence in me, senator. I’m truly honoured.” Marl bowed to Valparaiso.

The senator punched him gently. “You’re not in post yet. And it would only be for a limited period to sort out this mess left over from the war.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

Valparaiso patted Marl’s arm. “I know you will, that’s why I have every confidence in you.” He gestured to his servants. “I’ve got to go. Mustn’t keep my fellow senators waiting, eh?” He chuckled, then turned away and the group disappeared up the street.

Marl watched them leave before turning and heading for the watch house. As he strode down the street he remembered how over the years, Valparaiso had done so much to help him. He’d been the father he’d never known.