CHAPTER XX
They arrived in Spalato around dawn, and Youssef escorted them to an inn on the main square. Two of his men carried Gabriel on an improvised litter, causing many a sleepy-eyed stare from the women visiting the well in the centre of the marketplace. The captain also negotiated a fair price with the innkeeper and lent Coby some money to pay for it.
"We can't thank you enough, Captain Youssef," she stammered when he told her.
"You are most welcome. It is thanks to you that the painted demons drove off those pirates; otherwise I would have lost many men." He bade her farewell and left the inn.
Youssef must have made an impression on the innkeeper, for they had been given the finest room in the place, with a bed large enough for twice their party. Gabriel already occupied one side, tucked up in thick blankets despite the mild air. Sandy still had his cloak on, and his knapsack was slung over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
"For Venice? It's not safe for you to go alone." She retreated to the door and stood before it, arms folded. "I swore to Mal I'd keep you out of trouble, and I won't break that promise." Even though I have already failed once.
"Then you will have to leave your friend behind."
She looked past him at Gabriel. The colour had returned to the actor's cheeks and he had even roused briefly when they moved him onto the litter, but he was a long way from being fit to travel.
"I can't leave him alone in a strange city, not like this. He could still die unless someone looks after him properly."
"Then you will have to choose between us."
He gave her that smug grin, the one that made him look so much like his brother. Damn him.
"No. It is you who have to choose," she said. "Stay here for a few days whilst we work out how we're going to get into Venice without Hennaq catching us first, or dash off and risk everything. You can't do it alone, you don't even speak the language."
"Neither do you."
"True, but I know my way around a city. Do you?"
His shoulders sagged, and she started to relax. A moment later he slammed both hands against the door, one either side of her head. The planks vibrated against her back in counterpoint to her pounding heart.
"I have seen more cities than you have seen new moons, youngling," he growled. "Now let me go."
She drew herself up to her full height and looked him in the eye. "No."
"No?"
"No."
From the bed came a groan. "Is it morning already?"
Coby wanted to run to Gabriel and soothe him back to sleep, but she knew that if she did that, Sandy would leave.
"How are you going to get there?" she said in a low voice. "You don't have any money."
"I will find a way."
"Give me a day," she said. "Just one day. If I don't have a better plan for you by this time tomorrow, you can go with my blessing."
He appeared to consider for a moment. "One day."
"And I have your word you won't run off, the moment my back is turned?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." She pushed past him and went over to the bed, but Gabriel was already asleep.
Exploring Spalato did not take long. Although it called itself a city, it was no bigger than many of the provincial towns Coby had visited whilst touring with Suffolk's Men: a market square with several streets leading off, a few churches, and a harbour. There were some buildings one did not find in an English town, including an office whose only purpose was the collection and delivery of letters, and a public bath where the citizens of Spalato resorted to wash themselves. If it had not been for the apparent respectability of the women going in and out of the building, and the separate entrances for each sex, she would have taken it to be a stew. The only whores she had seen so far had been in the common room of the inn, lounging around with bare breasts and bored expressions, much like their sisters back home.
She went down to the harbour and reassured herself there was no sign of Hennaq's ship, but still her heart was heavy as she made her way back to the market square. She had no idea how she was going to convince Sandy not to leave for Venice without her, nor how she could ensure Gabriel's safety if she left. Lost in this dilemma, she hardly noticed when a young man stepped out into the street in front of her. Passers-by laughed as wooden balls rained down around the two of them. Coby looked up into the eyes of a solemn young man a few years older than herself. He muttered an apology and bent to retrieve the balls. Over his head Coby spotted a large red-and-yellow striped tent that had not been in the marketplace when she left. She walked towards it slowly, a plan beginning to crystallise on the edge of her thoughts.
She found Gabriel sitting up in bed, pale but cheerful. He had managed to find paper, pen and ink from somewhere and was scratching away feverishly. Every so often he would pause and stare out of the window, then resume his writing.
"Sorry, am I disturbing you?" she said, when he laid his pen down.
"No, it's all right." He put the sheet of paper aside to dry. "My hand was starting to cramp anyway."
"How's it going?"
Gabriel sighed "The story has taken a strange turn. I'm not sure I'm in the right humour for comedy today."
"Perhaps a rest is a good thing, then." She looked around the room. Sandy's cloak was draped over the windowsill, but there was no sign of his knapsack. "Where's Sandy?"
"He said he was going down to the docks."
"I did not see him, and it is a small city. Faith, I hope he has not run off already. I need to speak to him."
She tried to suppress her grin of triumph and failed utterly.
"You have a plan?" Gabriel said, leaning forward.
"Later, when Sandy returns," she said. "But I will need your support."
He held out his hand. "Always."
She turned away, overcome by this unexpected show of loyalty. What had she done to deserve it, except get them out of the trouble she should have avoided in the first place?
"Come," she said. "Let me have a look at your wound."
Gabriel eased his left leg out of bed and sat patiently whilst she unwrapped the bandages. The deeper cuts had been stitched up neatly by Gaoh and were nicely scabbed over, and the flesh around them was less red and hot than it had been. Satisfied, she wound the bandages back around his calf and tied the ends.
"Have you tried walking yet?"
He shook his head.
"Why don't we give it a go? You can lean on me."
They made it to the window without much trouble, then Gabriel rested a while against the sill before attempting the return journey to the bed. By the time they reached it, he was white-faced and breathing heavily.
"Enough," Coby said. "We'll do it again after supper."
Gabriel forced a smile. "Thank you. I am in your debt."
"I think we are even," she replied. "I have long owed you and Ned for helping to rescue Master Catlyn from Ferrymead House."
"Still…"
Footsteps sounded outside. A moment later the door opened and Sandy entered, ducking under the lintel.
"So," he said, looking from one to the other, "do you have a plan to get us to Venice?"
"I do," Coby said.
Sandy drew up a stool. "I am listening."
She paced around the room, ticking off the points on her fingers.
"First, we send a letter to Mal, warning him about Hennaq. The Venetians have a very efficient postal service, and we know he intended to go to the English ambassador, so we have somewhere to send the letter. It could be with him even faster than we can get there."
"What if the Venetians open it?" Gabriel said. "Any mention of skraylings may cause them to suspect his purpose there."
"I will use a cipher, to make the contents seem innocent," Coby said. "But the point is, we can warn Mal swiftly, and still have time to make our own preparations. I have been gathering gossip, as best I can, and it seems the skraylings' embassy progresses slowly. No agreement has been reached, nor is likely to be, at least not this side of Ascension Day."
"What's so important about Ascension Day?" Gabriel asked.
"It is the day when the ruler of Venice, the Doge, celebrates the city's naval history with a grand ceremony out in the lagoon." She pulled a face. "Some heathen ritual involving a gold wedding ring, I'm told. Anyway, it's all about the power and might of Venice, so they're not going to overshadow that by admitting how much they need a foreign alliance."
"So we are to go to Venice after all."
"Of course. We cannot just go home, not after coming all this way."
"We will have to be careful," Sandy said. "We cannot count upon my people to protect us, not if Hennaq petitions them."
"Lord Kiiren would not betray us, would he?"
"Of course not, but it is not his choice alone."
"Then we will have to rely on stealth and guile," Coby said, "and hide our purpose from both the Venetians and the skraylings."
"What did you have in mind?" Gabriel asked.
"A phoenix."
"A phoenix?" His brow creased in puzzlement.
"Ascension Day isn't just about the Doge and the sea. There's a big procession, and entertainments all over the city, day and night. Musicians and players will be flocking to Venice, so no one will notice one more troupe. Our troupe." She bit her lip, hardly able to rein in her excitement. "Suffolk's Men will rise from the ashes."
? ? ? ?
Erishen closed his eyes and let the night sounds wash over him: the girl snoring, the other one shifting on the flea-ridden mattress, mice scuttling across the rafters, the whisper of wings as a bat skimmed past the window. A dog barked, shaking him out of his reverie for a moment, then was silent. Down into sleep he drifted, dark waters pulling him under until his feet touched solid ground. Not water after all, but air, or at least the semblance of it. Not day or night, but a silver-grey twilight forever frozen, colourless, on the brink of dawn. He looked around at the dark landscape dotted with domes of faint golden light, the sleeping minds of the city. Though he scanned them carefully, he saw no sign of the brighter auras of his own people, white or violet in hue.
He stretched arms that became wings, and soared above the plain, wheeling over the barren darkness of the sea, heading north towards Venice. The cities were closer here than in the waking world, drawn together by bonds of blood and faith, and it took him only minutes to reach Venice, laid out beneath him like a jewelled carving. He drifted, letting his aura disperse a little so that he was just one more blur of light in the eternal firmament. It was harder to think clearly in this state, but also harder for anyone else to spot him. The lights below shimmered in an ever-changing pattern, flowing like water… For a moment he thought he caught sight of a blue-white spark amongst the gold, diamond-bright, but it winked out again. Did Kiiren stir in uneasy sleep? Or had some sharp-eyed enemy, spotting him, taken cover? The girl was right, he should not show his hand too soon.
With a sigh he skimmed southwards once more, picking up speed as he shaped himself into a Falcon, bright and fierce. As the smaller city came into view, the temptation to plunge down and immerse himself in their memories and longings threatened to overwhelm him. It would not be as sweet as his communings with Kiiren, but there was a raw pleasure to be had from these mortals, playing upon their fears and desires until they woke in a cold sweat to the memory of his laughter. Only once before had he tried it, and then only to save his brother's life, but that had been enough to whet his appetite. He wheeled over the city, looking for a target. There. The girl's plan had been good, but with his help it would be even better.
Coby woke at dawn to find Sandy already up and dressed.
"You're not leaving, are you?" she said, sitting up and running her fingers through her tangled hair. She had slept in her clothes as usual, even though she knew neither man had any untoward interest in her. "I thought you agreed to my plan."
"So I do," he said. "But I need to bathe first. You Christians are filthy creatures."
"I can order hot water brought up here."
"I would prefer to swim, or at least immerse myself." He scratched his scalp. "No wonder you people are covered in lice. I will find a stream, or go down to the sea."
"You can't leave the city, it's not safe." A thought struck her, though it was a poor compromise. She dug in her purse and pulled out a couple of small coins. "There's a Turkish bath near the market square. I believe they have pools for bathing."
He looked sceptical, but took the proffered coins.
"Just be careful, all right?" she said. "I am not entirely sure those places are… respectable."
"I have no interest in rutting with one of your people," he said. "My amayi is all I desire."
"Well. Good."
He strode out of the room and shut the door sharply behind him, rattling the bolts. Gabriel twitched awake and groaned.
"What was that?"
"Just…" Sandy? She wasn't sure what to call him any more; he seemed less human with every passing day.
Gabriel struggled upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his left foot touched the floor.
"So," he said after a jaw-cracking yawn, "today's the day that Suffolk's Men are reborn."
Coby made an affirmative noise and turned her back whilst he dressed. Seeing men half-naked had never bothered her when she was in a tiring-house helping actors into their costumes, but in the intimacy of a bedchamber it felt quite wrong to stand and watch.
"Of course we can't call ourselves Suffolk's Men any more," she said over her shoulder. "Anyway, Grey is the last person I would want to claim as a patron."
"How about 'Raleigh's Men'? I dare say he's the one who'll be paying for all this, one way or another."
"No. We don't want anything to link us to Mal. How about…" She pondered for a moment. "Parrish's Men."
"What?"
"You have to be the leader of our troupe. You have the most experience, and we need to spare your leg. Sandy and I will do most of the work."
"What about the play itself? No one will understand a word."
"Doesn't matter. We're not going to be doing plays like the ones back in London." She paced the room, images crowding her mind's eye. "I was in the market square yesterday, and there was a troupe of Italian players. They call it commedia all'improviso. Very different from our own theatre: all bawdy comedy, mock fights and falling on their arses. As long as we're funny, I don't think it will matter if the audience understands us or not."
"And you think you can do that? Acting is not as easy as it looks, you know."
"I have been acting all my life," she said softly. "Just not on a stage."
She borrowed pen and paper from Gabriel and wrote the letter to Mal, then went downstairs in search of breakfast. To her surprise the commedia players were sitting round one of the tables in the courtyard, looking as miserable as a wet Sunday afternoon. The shy young juggler was turning a painted ball in his hands, staring at it as if it held the secrets of eternity, whilst their leader, a short curlyhaired man in threadbare black-and-red motley, berated each of them in turn. The youngest of the troupe, a girl of about fifteen, was weeping loudly into a handkerchief.
"Did the play not go well last night?" she asked the landlord as he passed on his way back to the kitchen.
"Oh yes. But this morning they discovered that their Columbina and Il Capitano have run off to be wed, and taken a whole week's money with them."
"That is unfortunate," Coby replied. And strangely convenient. Two actors go missing, the very day after she had suggested taking to the stage. Erishen. She thanked the landlord and set off to post the enciphered letter.
"This was your doing, wasn't it?" She folded her arms and stared at Sandy, whose smug grin was good as an admission of guilt.
"The lovers had wanted to leave for a long time," he said, turning away abruptly so that droplets of water flew out from the ends of his damp hair. "I simply gave them a nudge."
"Don't tell me you…?" Coby wiped her face with her cuff. "No, I don't want to know. Whatever it is, it's between you and God." If you still believe in Him.
Gabriel looked from one to the other in confusion. "What's 'his doing'?"
Coby sighed. "The commedia players I saw yesterday are conveniently in need of two actors. A man and a woman."
"Women play on the Italian stage?" Gabriel asked.
"Oh yes. And in France too. It is only in England that women are forbidden to perform."
"The English honour skrayling custom in that regard," Sandy added.
"Whatever the reason," Coby went on, glaring at Sandy, "we now have a choice. Continue with my plan, or try to join the commedia."
"But there are three of us," Gabriel said. "And none of us speaks Italian."
"Which is all the more reason to join an existing troupe," Sandy said. "We will be less conspicuous amongst them than by ourselves."
"It's really up to Hendricks," Gabriel said with a sympathetic smile. "She is the one who must discard her current guise, as well as learn to act."
The two men looked at her expectantly.
"Very well," she said after a moment. "But only because I had been thinking about it already. And I will need your help, Master Parrish. I… I need to learn womanly manners if I am to do this properly."
"Of course."
"The gown I bought is rather plain; I think I should buy something to brighten it up a little before we approach the players. And you two ought to look a bit more like actors as well." She weighed the purse in her pocket. "If there's one thing I do know how to do, it's clothe a theatre company for next to nothing."
Choosing a pretty shawl for herself in the market was easy enough, but Venetian men's fashions were terribly sombre; not at all the sort of flamboyant clothing needed to make them look like actors. Eventually she found a couple of pairs of yellow stockings for the men, some dyed feathers to put in Gabriel's hat, and two striped and fringed scarves that would do for a number of uses. Satisfied at last, she returned to the inn with her haul and the two men began changing into their new clothes.
"These were the best I could find," she said, taking Gabriel's hat and pinning the feathers in place.
"They look splendid," Gabriel said with a smile. "I had a hat rather like that, back in Southwark."
He looked a lot stronger today, and was walking about the room unaided, though with a pronounced limp. The stockings did little to hide the bandages on his calf, however, and Coby prayed the wounds wouldn't bleed through.
Sandy finished dressing and struck a dramatic pose. Stripped to his shirt sleeves and with one of the scarves tied around his waist like a sash, he cut a dashing figure: an eastern prince, perhaps, or a noble bandit who, like Robin Hood, only stole from those who could afford it. She wondered if he had ever acted before, and if so, whether skrayling plays were very different from English or Italian ones. Mostly she prayed he would not embarrass them or cause trouble. He had done enough as it was.
"Out, out!" she said when they were done. "I'm not going to change into this gown in front of you, you know."
Gabriel apologised, and Sandy helped him down the stairs to the taproom. Coby bolted the door behind them and stripped down to her stockings and drawers. The latter she was not willing to discard, skirts or no, though she did extract the tool roll and stow it under the mattress. She slipped into the petticoat, thankful that she'd chosen a style that laced up the front. Halfway through the lacing she realised she ought to try and plump up her breasts, rather than flattening them as she usually did. Not that there was a lot to work with, but the bodice was surprisingly effective. She stared down at the unfamiliar prospect for several moments. Sweet Jesu, what will Mal think when he sees me like this? She hurriedly pulled on the gown, and arranged the shawl to cover what the bodice exposed. There, much better.
She slipped into her shoes, drew the bolt and drew a deep breath before opening the door. Well, nothing else for it. Holding the edge of the scarf tight against her chest, she made her way down to the taproom.