Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Drama

Shattered glass was cracking under his feet as he carefully measuring every step walked across the wool carpet, which was now strewn with the remains of different statuettes, vessels and jugs. The whole room looked like it suffered a vicious rampage or raid, but of course, those vile words wouldn’t serve as a proper description of a “warranted search” by the brave mindless savages of the chancellor’s guard. The curtains were torn from the cornice and left crumpled on the floor as if someone was hiding behind it with a hammer on the ready or a stash of incriminating evidence was just casually lying on the windowsill. Every shelf in a massive table at the end of the room was emptied, its contents nowhere to be seen. Apparently, all the record books, receipts and other standard banking paperwork were potentially holding an indisputable evidence of Lord Emilio’s guilt. Small bottles of various mixtures were taken as well, the guards imagined at least one must contain the Vulture’s Kiss, and Ettore would give a lot of gold right now to see sergeant Pietro’s smug face when the Palace healer labels them as simple sleeping potions. The worst fate though was predestined for his father’s favorite chest, where he always kept his most private correspondence. So many times have Lucca seen Lord Emilio gently opening the cover with the Benevento seal and placing the letters from merchants, bankers and politicians after letting Ettore flip through a few of them as a part of heir grooming process. When he once asked why risking personal exposure like that instead of burning them, Lord Emilio replied that in their business words mean something only when expressed in ink, what’s spoken out loud is nothing more than a passing wind. That didn’t stop the letters from disappearing somehow at the most convenient moment, though …    
Ettore came round the table and knelt to look at the fallen painting he always saw hanging above his father’s seat, guarding his privacy and lighting the mood in even the most precarious times. The background view was so familiar and warm that Ettore couldn’t help but smile, savoring the sweet memories of childhood that came pouring into his mind. The colors were smoothly flowing from a beautiful mess of red, yellow and green to the lighter and lighter blue. Amidst those colors on the elegant ebony bench sat the most beautiful and kind woman Ettore has ever known, the one who will always be in his heart no matter what, the one whose example of selflessness and solicitude will guide him through the rest of his life. In the painting Lady Eleanor had little to none resemblance to her daughter, only perhaps sharp jawline and cheekbones were similar, everything else starting with hair color was pretty much in perfect contrast. What most strongly told them apart though were the eyes. Maria’s eyes were dark brown, almost perfectly blending in with her hair and just by looking at them you could sense a certain degree of wickedness and fire burning inside. Lady Eleanor had light blue eyes, pure and calm like still water, whoever assumed eyes to be mirrors of the soul was certainly correct about those two. With a heavy sigh Ettore returned the portrait to its rightful place, and couldn’t help but wonder, if in a couple of days he will be the one sitting behind that desk, admiring the picture in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He tried to shrug these disturbing thoughts off, and replace them with something hopeful and upbeat, but it wasn’t how Lord Emilio taught him to think. There was nothing strategic and mature about a naive assumption that the uncertain and horrible reality would just resolve itself, that everything would come back to the way it was, to the happy and frivolous existence of the golden child under his father’s strong and protective wing. 
“Am I ready?” - whispered Ettore searching the canvas for a reassuring smile and a kind sparkle of the blue eyes. He liked to think the answer was yes but also realized that the question was asked sooner than he hoped, far sooner. 
Downstairs the servants were hastily removing the decorations and barely touched food and drinks, desperately trying to make the least noise possible as if the mansion needed even more anxiety and sorrow than it was already filled with. The only guest still remaining in the dining hall was Luigi Vieri who immediately ran up to Ettore the moment he walked in. 
“My sincere condolences, Ettore … oh… my lord, all of my prayers are with you, your benevolent Lord Father and Lady Maria … yes” - bleated Vieri, his bald head was sweating, his eyes were constantly darting about in a desperate attempt to avoid Ettore’s gaze.
Not bothering to hide his disgust for Vieri’s obsequiousness, Ettore stormed passed him and sharply responded:
“Your prayers won’t drag my father out of prison! Only your justiciar skills and absolute loyalty to House Benevento, which I presume we can still count on, right?”
“Beyond any doubt! I swear that whatever is in my power to relieve Lord Emilio of this ridiculous suspicion I will do. Your father, God be with him, is always a wonderful company and a great wise person, with whom so few can be compared.”
And besides that, a very rich man, whose funds are the only reason you’re still in a run for the chancellor’s chair. 
Ettore dismissed the servants with a loud finger snap, the way he saw father do it all the time, and when the room was cleared of all the extra ears, he slowly stirring the logs in the fireplace asked:
“Tell me, everything you know, and everything you don’t but suspect”
Ettore knew full well what an unreliable coward Vieri was, but he was the only ally on the horizon, if only by vested interest and not by friendship and goodwill. Father’s choice to back Vieri of all possible options always seemed queer and frankly disastrous investment, but he knew better than to question Lord Emilio’s authority in state matters. After all, he didn’t become the wealthiest banker in Avaritia by placing the wrong bets, but still, looking at this man, standing in front of him with a sheepish smile and hunched back, Ettore dreaded the future of the country under Vieri’s rule.
“At once, my lord, as you wish” - replied Vieri with a nervous giggle and excessive bow, which convinced Ettore to just stare at the fire from now on. “I wasn’t at the Palace for long, as soon as I learned all the important details of this horror I rushed back here to make sure you and Lady Maria are not kept in the dark…What barbarians those guards! To burst in a home of such respectable and renowned family like that, dreadful…But, ehm, closer to the matter, the late chancellor was found dead in his own study. As you already know, the cause of death is thought to be the Vulture’s Kiss. Which devil’s child would ever use a terrible poison as such?! It pains me to say it my lord, but your father was the only person in the room with the chancellor…so, there weren’t any other possible suspects.”
Ettore patiently waited until the flow of redundant and obvious information passed and proceeded to ask some meaningful questions.
“Where are they keeping him?”
“In the Palace dungeons, very close at hand. I think you will be pleased to know that his spirit isn’t broken.” 
“I need to see father tomorrow, after I talk to him some things will surely become clearer.” - as a matter of fact said Ettore and expectedly glanced at Vieri.
High Justiciar scratched the back of his head and after a couple seconds of tense silence replied:
“What you are asking for…it might be difficult to arrange. Your father is suspected of murdering a chancellor, my lord…It’s high treason, I have little by a way of confidence that they will allow any communication.”
Ettore took a deep breath slowly walked towards Vieri. Distaste has transformed into pure anger and when he spoke, his father’s words came out.
“I’m not the lord of this House yet, but if my father hangs and I have a feeling that you hadn’t done enough to save him, I swear, you will never be chancellor, and your current life will soon become a distant heaven for you!”
Vieri’s face shrank under the weigh of a direct verbal assault he obviously didn’t expect. The High Justiciar slowly backed away, his eyes betraying fear mixed with rage and confusion, but at last his emotions were real for the first time in this pretentious talk, there was little point in wearing a mask any longer. Finally meeting Ettore’s gaze Vieri sharply nodded and hurried towards the door on his short pair of legs. Well, a long time will pass since this particular conman will show up here. 
After the door shut behind Vieri, Ettore sat down next to the fireplace and with a quiet groan dropped his head into the open palms. He promised himself a long time ago. He promised himself after the very first time his father allowed him to join private meetings in the study. No one has ever left those meetings happy, grateful or somewhat satisfied, but all of those men of wealth and power always did exactly what his father said. Everyone ever was doing exactly as his father said, no exceptions. 
“Each and every person has a breaking point,” - Lord Emilio used to explain, “a desire or a dream, beyond which their made up principles, morals and pride don’t matter any longer. When you find this cornerstone and threaten to take it away or somehow disturb their precious little meaning of life, you are in control. Sadly, there isn’t really any other way to truly be in control…but nevertheless, it’s essential to succeed in what we do, in dealing with grinning sharks circling around you all the time sniffing out the moment of weakness”. 
Ettore remembers every word of this preaching, even though it happened ten years ago when he was only thirteen, but then and there he promised himself not to follow that heartless advice. He vowed to find another way to run things, a better way, in which people won’t do his bidding out of fear but out of respect and gratitude, but who would disagree that his father’s method was so much easier. It took one sentence and it came so naturally like he had done it a thousand times over, when it was just his mind spiraling out of control, choosing the most direct path to the goal. “It worked though, now we might be a step closer. The outcome will be worth it.” Is that how everyone justifies it, the heartless manipulation, threats and humiliations without a second thought? Is that how father calmed himself to sleep after signing a paper to take away someone’s home or someone’s gold? 
Slowly and thoroughly repeating the childhood vow Ettore climbed up the stairs and gently knocked on his sister’s bedroom door. The response was a barely audible “Come in”, his heart ached from the pain and despair he heard in this voice. She was never meant to feel those things, her path was to be the one of a blooming flower, happy, dazzling, growing, reaching higher and higher towards the sun… Maria was sitting on the corner of her bed holding a candlestick whirling a piece of parchment around it, her eyes fixed on the bright red flame watching mesmerized as the paper caught fire and started crumbling, finally falling down on the floor as a mere pinch of dust. Ettore silently seated himself beside her and protectively place his arm around Maria’s shoulders while tenderly caressing her hair. 
“Dinner plans…” - whispered Maria, “Burning down just as the thing itself”
“We will get through it, you hear me, this isn’t how our House ends!” - reassuring both his sister and himself spoke Ettore. 
“There, you’ve said it yourself” - chuckled Maria, “The thing we were the most scared of our whole lives. Anyway…What did I miss lying unconscious?”
“The elite guards searched whatever they could get their hands on, the guests dispersed almost immediately in horror, Vieri…he promised to arrange me a meeting with father tomorrow. I think you should come as well, we need to learn as much as possible while at the Palace.”
Maria’s pale face showed barely any emotions about Ettore’s report, she got up and slightly lurching returned the candlestick to its rightful place on the bedside table. 
“What about Lucca, how is he holding up?”
Ettore lowered his gaze to the floor, ashamed.
“I never got to ask. All we know is that he was on duty while…while it happened”
“Do you think Lucca confirmed it, testified that it was father?”
“Well…” - pronounced Ettore in confusion, “He certainly should have seen or heard of figure out something, but…why do you ask?”
“Not really sure” - shrugged Maria, “He is the guard, after all, they should trust his judgment, and if even he couldn’t convince the council of father’s innocence…hmm…must have been pretty obvious then. Do you think it was him? Genuinely?”
“Do I believe that my father murdered the leader of our nation?” - sharply rephrased Ettore, “No! Whatever else he was capable of doing, he isn’t a traitor.”
“Is it so inconceivable?” - clearly annoyed stated Maria, “After what happened to mother? We can’t rule out the possibility of him being guilty, not yet! I still remember Francesco and Victoria Dioli and surely, you do as well. I saw their kids when I took a ride about a week ago…Living in a shabby hut on the outskirts of town, playing in the mud, confused and terrified little faces. Yes, they did own a tone of gold to the bank and the papers clearly stated the penalty for payment delay, but…They had little control over the case, did they? Who knew their whole bloody farm would go up in flames just before it was time for slaughter? They begged him and begged him, and nothing could sway his firm belief in the power of ink and parchment. Sometimes I get curious, sneak out of bed in the dark. I found the letters right before he was paying a visit to the justiciars in the morning. He caught me there, actually, I made quite a scene, called him ruthless, cold-blooded, insensitive, all of those things that are used to define a terrible person. Told that it’s unfair, asked to imagine how it would feel if such injustice ever happened to him…He only shrugged and said: “What we call injustice is one way or another a product of countless little mistakes we make, and then when this big load of shortcomings hit us in the face we hide under a nice little word…injustice”. Wonder how he would classify his imprisonment, a little mistake of being in the room with a poisoned chancellor, or a big one of actually killing the old man?”
Ettore just stared at Maria marching across the room saying perhaps all the things that were always in the back of his mind, only he was too terrified to admit them even to himself. Catching Ettore’s troubled gaze, Maria lowered the tone and continued:
“Don’t get me wrong, I love him, dearly. He is the closest person to me since mother passed away, but I can’t forever pretend that his temperament or judgment doesn’t worry me and send shivers down my spine. We have to fight tooth and nail to learn the truth of what happened to Scordato as I can’t see the council looking anywhere beyond the obvious. If father isn’t guilty I will personally do whatever it takes to get him home, but if we uncover that he is…I…I don’t want him back in our lives. I’m done with the family first rules that protect manipulations, forgery and even murder!”
Maria walked out on the terrace and leaned on the railings watching the flaming sun disappearing in the dark waves of the Emerald Sea. She shook her head and a lonely tear dropped out of the corner of her eye.
“We exist here, surrounded by such splendor and beauty, not often thinking of how fragile it really is. So, here we are, on the verge of our undoing, unsure and scared of what might come next worse than little children left alone in the dark. …Wh…AAAA”
Maria’s terrified scream was followed by a hissing sound of an arrow propelling itself through the night air. Ettore jumped to his feet and ran to the balcony. Maria was lying on the stone floor, her hand pressed hard against the left cheek. Ettore rejoiced when she quietly groaned and rose on one elbow. Alive. Thank God. Alive. Maria was breathing hard, her eyes full of terror and confusion. By perhaps a fateful bit of luck the archer narrowly missed, a deadly steel tip only deeply bruised her face, leaving a red trace from her mouth all the way up to the ear. The weapon itself pierced right through the Benevento sigil hanging from the ceiling on the other end of the room. Two guards positioned outside the door at all times burst into the room with their swords ready.
“Search the territory around the house immediately!” – in a spell of fury ordered Ettore, “Bring me this archer dead or alive!”
He helped Maria crawl back inside the room and hastily shut the doors to the terrace. 
“Wait here, I will get the healer at once!” – barely finishing the sentence Ettore rushed to the exit, but Maria caught him by the hand.
“No…It’s only a scratch…It’s best we stay inside, both of us”.
Since the hiatus was calming down, Ettore exhaled and started vigorously rubbing his eyes, as if attempting to wake up. He walked over to the damaged canvas and pulled out the arrow which plunged right through the head of a painted red eagle. Ettore was by no means an expert in weaponry, this was more his brother’s domain of interest, but even to him, the arrow seemed unusual. The nock was much larger than on the standard wooden arrows his household guards were using, and the material itself had a dark brown color and was surprisingly light, no wonder Maria and him barely blinked as this thing flew by. What really made Ettore stopped breathing for a second was a tiny almost invisible among the feathers piece of parchment carefully stringed to the arrow. Struggling to cope with trembling hands Ettore unfolded the scroll and after reading the quick but informative note suddenly began laughing. 
“This wasn’t an assassination, at least yet, but rather our first wind of hope!” – joyfully proclaimed Ettore and passed the parchment to Maria, who had a troubled look on her face, as if she was doubting her brother’s sanity. 
Your father is innocent beyond question! If you want to help justice prevail, head at first light to the second block after turning left from the Northern Gate. You will find a house with a fish engraved on a fence. The basement. Learn everything you can quickly. Time is of the essence!
Maria doubtfully shook her head and setting the parchment aside started wearily rubbing her temples. 
“Honestly, I don’t even know what to make of this…It looks genuine but we might be trapping ourselves tomorrow, and there is no way we are going to waste an opportunity of talking to father maybe for the last time before trial in order to chase a frankly suspicious and dodgy lead. I don’t think we can justify the risk.” 
Ettore couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 
“Maria! How can we brush it aside like that?! You’ve said that you will do anything to find out the truth and now you’re rejecting the only visible chance on the horizon for us. I am not having it, we must investigate. This anonymous writer might be the only friend we have left!”
“Fine” – still largely unconvinced waived Maria, “But for the love of God we don’t have to go there ourselves! We have our guards, it is as much their duty to protect father as it is ours. Let them investigate while we visit the Palace.” 
“I will never forgive myself if something will go wrong, or if they won’t find anything. I have to be there, call it a “diligence disorder” with which you always mocked father, but there is no way I’m leaving a potential clue that important in the hands of other people.”
As soon as Ettore finished his sentence, Maria ran towards him and nearly tackled him to the ground with a tight hug. 
“I just don’t want to lose you…I just don’t want to make a careless complacent mistake that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Do you understand me?” – whispered Maria quietly sobbing. 
“I do, always. You’re right as well. We must not deviate from the initial plan. I think you should go to the Palace first thing in the morning, while I’ll lead a handful of our men to that house. This way even if it is a trap, they won’t get us both, and you will have the evidence.” – Ettore tenderly folded the parchment and gave it to his sister. “Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be even more hectic.”
Ettore kissed Maria on the forehead and left the room bumping into the breathless guardian running up the stairs. Everything was searched time and again. The archer isn’t found. Just as was expected. Already yawning Ettore instructed the soldiers to not let his sister’s chambers out of sight and headed back to his own dreaming only about the large feather pillow. As soon as he eased himself onto the bed without even disrobing, his mind completely switched off, the craziness of this day was evidently too much for his brain to handle any longer. 
He was on the sea coast. The air had a bizarre aroma of spices and salt, it was really pleasing and seducing. The waves were crashing against solid grey rocks in regular cycles, crystal clear and glowing underneath the sun. Wondering what kind of a paradise he has suddenly been thrown into he walked forward along the shoreline, his own footsteps disappearing behind him as the wind was stirring the sand. When he walked around a massive set of rocks, the weirdest act took place right before his eyes. A caravan of people was marching across the sand, singing and chanting something. There were hundreds. Different age, different skin color, different clothes, all walking in unison. Taking a closer look Ettore was in for a shock once again. A thin string of silk was attached to each and every person’s arm, extending all the way to the rear of the procession, where a very young lad was sitting on top of an enormously huge elephant holding all the cords in his tiny hands. 
A child pulling the strings of hundreds of grown men on a bloody elephant…What the hell is that?
Out of nowhere, a door appeared between the two stones ahead that stood like eternal silent guardians of the watery kingdom. The whole caravan obeying the hand gesture of a child headed right towards the door, people magically disappearing once they crossed the doorstep. Driven by sheer curiosity, excitement and the whole absurdity in front of him Ettore followed the elephant towards the door. Near the entrance lied a snow-white seagull, most likely already dead as the flock of crows was circling above him. Corpse-eaters ended up waiting too long to feast on the fresh carrion as the elephant paying no mind to the earthly affairs casually stepped on the bird trampling it down into the sand. All that was left for Ettore to do was chuckle and shrug; he had absolutely no idea what this queer spectacle was about. 
He stepped through the door right behind the elephant. It took some time for him to adjust to the lighting in this new location, which was much dimmer than the sunlight at the shore. Apparently, he was indoors now. I remember this place. I’ve been here with father. The breathtakingly extravagant garden, the throne right ahead of the entrance, the emerald dome above his head… Yes, it was the council chamber, only it was not the same as before, somehow incomplete, and imperfect. The table and all the chairs were missing only a small pouf stood next to the throne. The carpet wasn’t red as usual but black, the birds living in the jungle of the improvised greenhouse were silent as death. What kind of tragedy took a hold of this place? 
To search for at least something alive and cheerful Ettore turned to the path leading deeper into the garden. A long green snake slowly crawled out from underneath the throne and hissed at Ettore tilting its head clearly instructing him to follow. 
All right. Snakes, elephants, crows, seagulls, what else? 
His question didn’t hang in the air for too long. Lead by the snake Ettore found himself on the edge of the chamber staring at the huge cage next to a wall and something truly remarkable was staring back at him. He never saw a living being so beautiful, but from the first glance recognized the vivid description from children’s stories. The bird’s plumage seemed to radiate light and was overflowing with red, orange and yellow, all those colors flickering in the dimness of the chamber. The Phoenix calmly sat on the perch wearily looking at Ettore, faintly flapping its wings at the metal bars. Couldn’t resist the overwhelming sadness and plea in the bird’s eyes Ettore starting making his way to the cage trying to come up with an idea how to open it. 
As he was approaching the magical bird, the snake behind him was meandering around the trees and making repetitive hissing noises that sounded painfully like laughter. A second later bewildered Ettore discovered what exactly the slick creature found hilariously funny. The beautiful Phoenix in front of him vanished into thin air and got replaced by something Ettore couldn’t even begin to perceive. It didn’t have any specific form or shape, just a disgusting grey mass with an incredibly large an ugly head and wings as solid as steel. Ettore was praying for it not to start banging at the bars as its predecessor did, but, of course, the exact opposite happened. When does it not? Penetrating screech of metal against metal accompanied by a high-pitched shriek of the locked up beast was making Ettore’s head explode. Oh, God, please make it stop…Get me out…Wake up…WAKE UP…