1635: The Papal Stakes

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The room stank of chronically unwashed bodies and the proximity of Rome’s Jewish Ghetto, from which rubbish was removed infrequently. At best.

Tom watched Juliet finish her wine. She placed the sturdy flagon down upon the table and, despite her almost parodically curvy bulk, she belched demurely. Then she stood up and whistled, once, shrilly, followed by her cry of “Benito?”

From out of the milling crowd of young men in the front room, a tall gangly adolescent with a bad facial gash and missing one ear loped over. His face was a study of dedication bordering on adoration: “Yes, Signora Sutherland?”

“Time to send all the young bucks along to their billets now, lad. Get Giovanna’s relatives to help you.”

“Her brother Fabrizio, he’s here. But her cousin Dino is upstairs, fetching-you know, ‘him.’”

Thomas North smiled tightly. Him, indeed. But it was true enough that Harry’s fame in Rome was such that the mere mention of his name and rumor of his appearance could create problems. Fortunately, this was working in their favor, now. Since they had removed Wadding weeks ago, there had been an imaginary “Harry Lefferts sighting” almost every other day. The authorities had apparently pursued these rumors vigorously at first. Now, they simply ignored them. Which was good; although the returned Wrecking Crew took meticulous care not to interact or even be seen by locals, even at night, they could not afford a slip-up. Whoever worked for Borja was looking for them; no reason to help the bastard do his job.

Juliet was rolling her eyes over Benito’s report. “Yes, of course, Dino is spending an extra minute basking in the glow of the Great Man. So get Piero to help you, instead.”

“ Si, Signora, we shall have the room clear in thirty seconds. No more.”

“You have them trained pretty well,” North observed when the youngster had left.

“No training required, Lord North.” Why she, alone of the Wrecking Crew, insisted on retaining the use of his title was beyond him. But he wasn’t going to attempt dissuading her. He had learned that Juliet Sutherland was not merely determined, she was a force majeure. In this case, her resolve was quiet, rather than loud and brash, but no less tenacious. She was probably going to call Thomas “Lord North” until the day he-or she-died.

“What do you mean, ‘no training required’?” North sipped at his well-watered wine.

“Well, I’m exaggerating a bit. But just a bit. The only boys who will do the work we require are poor. And the only ones who can do the work are not so poor that they’re too weak to watch, run, report. Which means I’ve been recruiting scamps who’ve already spent a few years watching houses and following people, working as lookouts for petty thieves, smugglers, pimps: you name it.”

“Sounds a savory crew.”

“Sounds a desperate crew,” replied Juliet with a touch of heat. “I’m familiar enough with their circumstances, m’lord. Grew up none too different, truth be told.”

“Sorry,” offered North.

“Ah, nothing to be sorry for, m’lord. I suppose these aren’t the kind of skills you ever had much cause to become familiar with, what with you taking your lessons by the hearth in the ancestral manse.”

“ Touche,” North offered with a smile. “Although that doesn’t quite describe the circumstances of my youth. We had a great deal more title than money, and I was not the oldest son. Nor the favorite.”

“Probably why you don’t take on airs, then. Knew there was a reason I liked you. Not all quality is quality, if you take my meaning. But you are, right enough.”

North hardly knew what to say. “Thank you,” was what came out. It sounded ridiculous.

“Well, if you must thank me for something, you can express your appreciation for my expertise as a recruitrix of unsavory crews. Not things you learn in a book, of course, but on the street. You have to be able to tell the ones who are hungry from those who are desperate. Desperate waifs are no good to us; unfortunately, they’ll serve or sell anyone for a farthing because they don’t believe that anything good will last.

“You also have to be able to tell the ones who are just hard enough from the ones who don’t have enough hardness in ’em-they’ll freeze or bolt-and also from the ones who are too hard-they’ll sell you out or blackmail you, if they get the chance.”

“I wasn’t aware there were such nuances in the recruiting of children.”

“Well, why would you be? None of your own, and no interest in ’em.”

“Well, you don’t have any of your own. Although, given your interest, I’m rather surprised you don’t.”

“What? Me? Children? Christ on the gibbet, don’t even say the words!”

“But why not?”

“Why not? Why not? I should trade away all this”-she ran her hands down her formidable flanks-“for a bump and a babby? I’ve got a husband to keep, Lord North, which means a figure to keep as well.”

North tried not to goggle, or laugh, or sputter in bafflement. She seemed serious. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he managed to get out.

“I suppose not. But as I was saying, part of the trick of recruiting these lovable scuts is knowing the age at which they are no longer so lovable, and more scoundrel than scut.”

“And what age is that?”

“Varies by the child. Boys stay innocent longer, but get mean faster. It’s a tricky business, because the oldest are the most valuable, overall, but also the rarest. But we’re fortunate having access to the lefferti; they all have younger brothers who want nothing so much as to join those scurrilous ranks, themselves. And so, we let slip the implication that our piccoli lefferti will help us strike a blow against the Spanish bastards who killed one, more, or all of their family. And yes, it’s that bad, in some cases. So, before I’m done talking to the little fellows, they’re as loyal as puppies and can’t do enough to help us.” She sighed contentedly. “I’ve done my finest work here in Rome. ’S a pity it has to end, tomorrow or the next day.”

“What determines which day we start the final party?”

“When Frank and Giovanna’s guards give us the kind of incident that will allow us to stir up the local mobs.”

“And how can we even predict when such a thing might occur?”

“Predict? Lord North, I see you do not understand what it means to be a professional in my line of work. We are not waiting for a chance event. We are simply waiting for the right moment to make it happen. In a time and a place of our choosing.”

“Which is,” added the unmistakable voice of Harry Lefferts, “the key to our tactical successes: to always strike at a time and a place of our choosing. Which we are now ready to do.” Leading the way down the stairs, he was followed by the rest of the Wrecking Crew, the Wild Geese, and North’s four Hibernians. It was quite the parade, North conceded.

Harry took a seat next to Thomas, pulled out a chair obviously intended for John O’Neill, and let the rest file in and find places as they could.

“Okay,” said Harry, grinning from ear to ear, as the earl of Tyrone took his seat. “We’re done with preparation, and we’re done revising and refining the plan. So here it is.”

He unfolded a map of the target. Some of it boasted precise floor plans, some more was rather vague, and a whole lot of it was blank. “This is the insula Mattei: the palace complex belonging to the Mattei family. It is comprised of three separate parts. The good news is that this big sucker”-Harry ran his hand around the periphery of the immense quadrangle that dominated the center and eastern side of the map-“is not where Frank and Giovanna are being held. We don’t have the manpower to go room to room in the main palazzo, the Palazzo Giove Mattei. Even with complete surprise and all our firepower running nonstop, we’d still get nickel-and-dimed to death.”

Owen Roe O’Neill was frowning. “So the entirety of the insula has been taken over by the Spanish to house two hostages?”

Harry shrugged. “We don’t really know. Our intelligence on high-society isn’t too good. It could be that the Mattei family is on the outs with Borja, that some of their neighbors used the invasion as a pretext to settle some old scores and run them off, or they could be clustered up in the main Palazzo, giving the Spanish the run of the yard and keeping their heads down. Because so far, we haven’t seen anyone who answers to the descriptions of the Mattei clan in the whole place.”

“That’s kind of odd,” commented Sherrilyn.

“Given how smart the guy we’re playing against seems to be, maybe it’s not so much odd as it is inspired. He’s not letting anyone out to tell stories about what’s going on inside. No servants go shopping; no new ones come in. Food is delivered. The only domestics they let out are the water-bearers, who get what they need at the dolphin-fountain here”-Harry pointed to a small piazza just below the northwest corner of the map-“while under close guard.”

“So we haven’t had any inside reports at all?” Donald Ohde rubbed his chin and did not look happy.

“Not recent ones, but plenty of older ones.” Juliet leaned forward on dimpled elbows. “That’s how we got the floor plans. I learned which of the locals hereabout had worked in the palazzi over the years. Got ’em to talking about what it was like inside. Even got a few of them arguing over the details.”

“But has our observation given us a sense of patrol rosters? Duty stations?” Thomas tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Well, in a manner of speaking, yes, we do have information on that. And it’s some of the best news of all.”

“Oh?”

Harry smiled. “I think the Borja’s troops have bitten off a little more than they can chew. Our small army of casual, underage watchers agree with our older hands: the Spanish are playing the single-file repeating Indian trick all throughout the insula Mattei.”

“They’re playing what?” asked John O’Neill.

“It’s an old story from up-time,” Sherrilyn explained. “In order to make themselves look more numerous, one war-band of North American natives marched just beyond the edge of a ridge, all in one big circle, each one passing by the crest again and again. To the folks in the fort they had surrounded, it looked like there were thousands of Indians out in the hills, when in fact there were only a few hundred, at most.”

John nodded, understanding, but evidently not too pleased that the explanation had come from Sherrilyn. North couldn’t tell if the earl was disappointed because the story had not come from Golden Harry, or because O’Neill hated-hated-anything that reminded him that some members of the Wrecking Crew were female. Whatever the reason behind it, Sherrilyn saw John’s reaction, and clearly didn’t like it very much. She sat back, arms folded, and eyes hard.

“So,” the earl mused, “they’re short of men, given the size of the area they have to defend.”

“It sure looks like it,” drawled Harry. “We see the same guys too often, standing triple watches, moving from post to post. If you were just watching casually, it looks like there’s a fair amount of activity in the complex, but when you start following the faces, it turns out to be a sham. All of which is in line with what our informers close to Borja and his officers have told the lefferti.”

Juliet raised her chins. “Which also matches what my little darlings have reported in terms of food deliveries: far less than the apparent garrison would eat. Only about one third as much.”

“And from what I’ve seen through my binoculars,” added George, “most of them are not the top-notch Spanish troops.”

“How do you know?” asked Owen.

“Well, in part, their weapons. Philip’s best have genuine flintlock muskets, now. A lot have snaplocks; the rest have wheel locks or the better matchlocks. But most of the lads in this complex are still carrying arquebuses and matchlocks that came back from the New World with Columbus.

“And if they had enough troops, I’m pretty sure they’d use that big belvedere on top of the main palazzo as more than a sometimes-lookout.”

“What else should they use it for?” asked Sean Connal, genuinely perplexed.

“A strongpoint from which to defend all the roofs,” George responded.

Most of the Irish stared, more confused than before.

Harry stood. “See, it’s like this. All of these buildings are roofed, yeah? And some of them here on the north, and here on the west are pretty close to buildings on the opposite side of the street. Close enough that a group of attackers on these roofs over here”-he pointed to the roofs to the north of the complex-“could lay a ladder over the gap and cross to the roofs of the Palazzo Mattei. Now maybe I’m just paranoid, but I wouldn’t want to give my opponent free access to my roof. Particularly not if my opponent was as smart as, say-” Harry smiled “-Harry Lefferts.”

“Why am I beginning to suspect that we’re going to pull another roof job?” asked Matija sourly.

“Now, would I plan anything as crazy as that?”

“Of course you would, Harry. You’re you.”

“Well, so I am-but we’ll get to that later. For now, here’s the other lucky break we’re catching: Frank and Giovanna are being kept here, in this small palazzo just below the insula’s northwest corner. It’s called the Palazzo Giacomo. They’re in a room overlooking this combo entrance and courtyard, which does not communicate directly with any of the courtyards of the big palace. And we can see the windows of their rooms just fine from the roof of a three-story building near the gate into the Ghetto. Which means that we’ll have eyes, and a scoped weapon, on the primary area of operations at all times.”

John O’Neill was nodding like he actually understood all of what Harry had explained. In reality, North conjectured, the earl understood that a bold plan had been conceived and that they were within days of executing it. And that seemed to excite him quite a bit.

Harry hunkered close to the map. “Okay, so here’s the mission plan. Most of our assault forces will begin hidden in this boarding house to the north of the insula Mattei and in these sheds. Two of the Hibernians-who will be the long-range support-will be secreted here, just inside the Ghetto walls.”

“The Ghetto walls?” Donald Ohde sounded dubious. “But the guards there-”

Juliet smiled. “You know, I never cease to be amazed how very bribable guards are when you suggest that you want them to wander away from the Ghetto Gate so you can sneak in and torment a few Jews.” Her smiled broadened. “So I don’t think we’ll have to worry about moving in and around the Ghetto. And if one of the guards has a twinge of conscience, well…we’ll have people there who can take of that, too.” She stared meaningfully at all the readied pistols and swords in the room.

“Okay,” resumed Harry, “once we’re in position, Juliet will start the party with a diversion. We’ll be creating an incident at the well in the next few days, an incident which will lead to some peaceful, but loud and large, rioting outside the doors of the main Palazzo Mattei.

“Once that diversion has drawn in the attention and spare troops of the palazzo, our team in the north will go into action. They’ll already be up on the roofs across from the smallest and northern-most of the three palaces, the Palazzo Paganica. They’ll push ladders across the gap, scoot over, and from there, will have the run of all the roofs of the insula Mattei.”

“And if they have a guard watching from the main palace’s roof-top belvedere?” asked Sean Connal.

“Well, then I’ll just have to use my scoped rifle to close his eyes. Permanently.”

“Ah,” the doctor responded. “You are another great long-range marksman, like your famous Julie Sims?”

“Doc, at these ranges I could shoot like Elmer Fudd and still bag all the pesky Spanish wabbits that I spy with my little eye.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll fill you in later, Doc. Back to the action. So the Wrecking Crew is the roof team. Gerd will make his way to the southeast corner of the main palazzo, find the driest beams under the roof-tiles there, and give them the gift of fire. Nothing that will burn the whole joint down, but enough to get a little attention pulled over that way.

“By that time, the rest of the Crew should have identified and staked out the sections of the roof next to where they’re holding Frank and Giovanna.”

Gerd smiled. “And then I blow it in.”

Harry smiled back. “Yeah. Gerd has been working on tamping and directional demolitions. You can’t control these micro-petards too much, but you can manage them enough for our purposes. Once the hole is in the roof, the Wrecking Crew goes in, led by Sherrilyn. They will secure the room next to Frank and Giovanna’s.”

“And that’s when we join the party, right?” John O’Neill’s eyes were bright, eager.

“Yep. By this time, the rioters will be making a storm of noise outside the gate leading into the courtyard of the main Palazzo Giove Mattei. Under the cover of that ruckus, you’ll emerge from the buildings we’ve rented around the fountain’s piazza, charge and take the gate into the Palazzo Giacomo’s courtyard, using those nice new revolvers of yours.”

John O’Neill’s face fell a bit at the mention of the revolvers, but not much.

“If you need to blow the lock, you’ll have a small charge with you for that purpose. Once you’re inside, your job is simple: kill everyone who tries to fight back. You are shock troops, and given your weapons and training, that kind of in-close combat should be just your cup of tea.

“As the Palazzo Giacomo’s courtyard is being secured by the earl, Sherrilyn’s roof team will take advantage of the fact that most of the prisoners’ guards will have rushed to the windows overlooking the entry; they’ll breach the room where Frank and Giovanna are being held and eliminate the guards. Then they’ll send the two love birds scampering down into the waiting wings of our Wild Geese. Then they all run like hell out of the courtyard.”

“And us?” Donald Ohde’s eyes had not left the rooftop section of the map.

“If Sherrilyn thinks it looks safe to follow Frank and Giovanna down the ladder, then that’s what you’ll do. That would have us all pulling out together, in the same direction. Easier for the withdrawal to the boats. We want to avoid having separated units trying to make rendezvous, at night; something will go wrong. Hell, it always does.

“But if the Spanish still have too many troops in the courtyard of the Palazzo Giacomo, then Sherrilyn’s group will just retrace its steps: up to the roof and back over the ladders to the roof you came from. They’re not going to have anyone up there to stop you; there’s no real access to the roof except for from the belvedere. And if someone does go up there and starts giving you trouble-well, that’s when I get to play the role of your long-range guardian angel. Again. But I kinda doubt that’s going to happen. They seem to have almost no tactical awareness of their roof. George here has been watching it for weeks. The Spanish use the belvedere to sight-see and get some sun, not a security position.

“Just to keep Borja’s boys extra busy, we’ll let the lefferti have a little fun at the end: they’ll throw a few molotov cocktails. Made out of olive oil. Or cod oil, if they want to add gas warfare to the mix. Then they’ll scoot and fade, all going their separate ways.”

Owen was still looking at the map and frowning. “And how do we escape?”

“Always important, the get-away. So: we withdraw hugging the wall of the Ghetto until we can turn and head over the Ponte Fabricio, the eastern bridge leading to the Isola Tiberina. We cross that little island, go over its western bridge, the Ponte Cestio, into the Trastevere and head a few blocks south to the extraction boats. They’ll be waiting around this bend in the Tiber, just beyond where the Cloaca Maximus dumps the city’s sewage into the river. Not a popular area, which should lower the chances of random detection. And from there, we just go with the flow, down to the sea.”

“All the way to the sea, in light boats?”

“No. We’ll transfer to a single, larger boat before we get to open water. We’ll ultimately rendezvous with the same barca-longa that brought us here from Venice. But as to the name of the first boat and where along the Tiber we’re going to meet it-well, in case anyone here is captured, we’re gonna keep that information restricted to the folks who really need to know it.”

Sherrilyn looked at the maps. “The plan sounds okay. Well, pretty good, actually, if the assumptions about the number of Spanish troops are correct.”

Harry shrugged. “Sherrilyn, even if we’re off by twenty, thirty percent, it’s not going to matter. Look at the ways we’re getting in and out. No matter how many guys they have, they won’t see us on the way in. And if they try to swarm us, or chase us on the way out? We have multiple escape routes, and to follow us on any of them, they’ve got to go through bottlenecks. Bottlenecks that our own people are covering with a huge firepower advantage. With our own guns, and the Hibernians’ lever-actions, it will be a turkey shoot if they try coming after us. But I can’t see them getting their heads out of their asses that fast. So I really don’t think it’s going to become a turkey shoot; it’s just going to be a piece of cake.”

John O’Neill’s eyes darted across the maps. “Harry Lefferts, you have the very balls of the Devil himself, but a bold heart after my own liking. This-” he announced to his Wild Geese “-now this is a gambit worthy of heroes and bard-songs.” They all nodded, one or two with an enthusiasm that matched John’s. Several of the others, Owen and Sean among them, barely moved their heads; they kept looking at the maps and frowning. North noted which of the other Wild Geese, and his own Hibernians, evinced those reservations: these were persons with minds like his own, and probably key group leaders if the operation went pear-shaped, for some reason “So, Doubting Thomas,” drawled Harry, “I see that look. What’s bugging you about the plan?”

Careful now, Tom. “Nothing specific, Harry. Taken separately, the assumptions and steps are all sensible, and emphasize our strengths.”

“So?”

“I’m simply mindful that, as dance-steps go, the ones you have us moving through are very interdependent, and come in quick sequence.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that we’d better not stumble. Not once. And the Spanish had better not change the music in the middle of the dance.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. We can definitely do without any surprises, but that’s why I’ve got two of your Hibernians in reserve, for a base of supporting fire that we can redirect like a fire brigade. The attack plan doesn’t depend on our full offensive superiority; I’ve held that card back as our ace in the hole. If the Spanish do try to change the music somehow, we’ll change it right back.”

If you can, thought Thomas but said nothing.

“And I’ve given a lot of thought to quick extraction, as well,” continued Harry. “We’ll want a small force watching the boats. That same force could also work as a kind of free safety to smack down any other Spanish units that might try to block our escape route. But Sherrilyn has made a pretty good survey of the area: Borja doesn’t have any garrisons nearby. He’s keeping most of his forces concentrated near the Holy City, and the rest billeted in a couple of dispersed, satellite locations. The nearest of those is ten minutes away, assuming they are moving at a flat-out run the whole time. Meaning we should have twenty minutes before anyone else could reasonably hear the noise, get a team together, and come join the party. And if this operation takes more than seven minutes from the first shots, then we are all under-performing in a big way. The fact of the matter is the Crew has often tackled bigger jobs with fewer resources, so I’m thinking we have a nice safety margin in place for this op.”

North nodded. “Very well, then. Who’s in charge of the boat and extraction overwatch team?”

“You are, Thomas.”

Oh, now wait a minute- “I see. And what led you to that decision, Harry?” North tried very hard to keep any tone of challenge out of his voice.

“Okay, now, Tom; simmer down. Yeah, I’d feel that way too. But someone has to be watching our backs and keeping the exit open. You’re careful and you’ve got a nose for when things are going wrong or getting tight, and that’s exactly the kind of instincts we’ll need in a free safety.”

“And which you need even more on the line, so that you’ll get the earliest possible whiff of trouble.”

Lefferts smiled. “Right you are. Which is why Owen is going to be up front with us.” He nodded at the colonel of the Wild Geese. “He’s the oldest and wisest among us. And he’s also one hell of a toe-to-toe fighter, as I’d heard and have now seen.”

Owen smiled at the compliment. Thomas bit his lip. Owen was not particularly cautious, just more so than John. Which wasn’t hard to achieve. But as a sassenach, there was no way for North to win an appeal to swap roles with Owen, or even broach the topic without arousing suspicions of bigotry. Or accusations of petty displeasure over being excluded from the attack force. Besides, Harry’s plan was actually thorough and clever-but still, Thomas had misgivings, the nagging sense that they were missing something. Or maybe that was just his own sour grapes at being consigned to the rearguard. North’s throat felt like sandpaper as he made himself ask, “How many and which people are on my extraction team?”

“Five, other than yourself. Two of your own Hibernians for security. Doc Connal in case we’re coming back with casualties, one lefferti for interacting with any locals, and one of Juliet’s little fellas to run messages and sneak around, keeping an eye out.”

It was said that Caesar had conquered Gaul with less. “Fine,” Thomas replied.

“Any other concerns?” Harry leaned forward to pour himself a little wine.

The voice that answered was a surprise to all. “Well, I’ve a personal concern, Harry.” It was John O’Neill.

“Really? Wassamatter, John?”

“Oh, nothing with the plan. More a concern with one of the skills I’ll be needing. I’m not a reliable hand with these pepperbox revolvers, yet. Haven’t had the benefit of any truly competent training in it, I’m afraid.”

Beside North, Sean Connal reddened briefly, then eased back in his seat with a small sigh and a rapid return of his normal color. A few of the Wild Geese looked at the doctor: if they had expected to see him finally, finally, lose his patience and make some cutting (if oblique) rejoinder to John’s outrageous implication, they were surprised by the young man’s continued calm.

If Harry caught any of that suppressed inter-Irish friction, he gave no sign of it. “Aw, no worries, John. Give me five minutes of your time and you’ll be an old hand with the clunky bastard.” He extended his palm; John O’Neill put his pepperbox upon it. “Now, John, let’s get to the heart of the problem, which I’m guessing is reloading.”

John smiled and watched, but not comfortably, North noticed. He hoped the earl would take the time to practice what he was learning. Practice it until he could wield the pepperbox as easily as his sword, could load, unload, reload in his sleep.

But North rather doubted that would happen.

As Harry repaired to a larger table where he could provide a detailed explanation of the rules of poker to the Wild Geese, John made to follow him. Owen slipped close to his much younger cousin.

“John, do you really think Harry’s plan is in trim with our own orders?”

“What do you mean?”

“John, Fernando and Isabella made it clear that they were none too pleased with us acting in concert with the Wrecking Crew and the USE at all. But they understood the necessity, both of the moment and in the larger scope of the Low Countries’ future relations with the up-timers. It’s not the time for any of us to look like ingrates. But Isabella particularly stressed that we stay mostly in positions to support the attack, not be at the forefront of it ourselves. And that’s just where we’ve been put: leading the charge into the Palazzo Giacomo’s courtyard.”

John looked like he was going to spit in disgust. “I’ll not have my hands tied by that nervous old biddy’s apron-strings. Our courage is needed-wanted-here.”

“Our courage may be, but our faces are not. Think on it, John: what happens if one of us is killed or captured, particularly you, or me? Borja-and through him, Philip-could learn that we were here.”

“So what of it?” John restively loosened his sword in its scabbard, as he looked over at the poker lesson that was starting. “Philip’s abandoned us. It’s high time that we abandon him.”

Always spleen first, brain last, with you, isn’t it, Johnnie? “Yes-maybe that’s how it is for us. But Fernando and Isabella still receive some reales from Philip. It’s a tense situation between the two courts, and there’s a conflict of interest, but still no hostility between the king of Spain and the new king in the Low Countries. Not yet. But if our involvement here were to come to light-”

“It won’t,” snapped John. “It may be a bold plan, but it’s a good plan. Even the sassenach said so.”

Yes, he did-but I can see he has the same indefinite misgivings that I do, Owen thought, but said instead, “And so it is a good plan, but, given our employers’ explicit concerns, we shouldn’t be assigned to the main assault force.”

John turned, the lack of expression on his face all the more chilling because that bluff countenance was typically open and immediate in transmitting the state of the earl of Tyrone’s somewhat tempestuous heart. “Owen, if you’ve grown too old to be comfortable leading men in a head-long charge, then maybe it’s time for you to put down your sword and pick up a pen. As our quartermaster, or the like.”

Owen hardly knew how to respond. If those words had come from any other man on the face of the Earth, it would have meant a challenge and one of their deaths. He exhaled slowly, carefully, “I’m to be following orders, not the path of a coward, Lord O’Neill.”

“Suit yourself. Maybe there’s no cowardice in you. So, who’s to blame? I guess it’s Isabella and Fernando who haven’t the nerve to stand tall and fight openly for what they believe. No stain upon your honor or good name, then-not even for continuing to obey people who’ve admitted that, for almost thirty years, they’ve used us worse than a tinker’s forgotten dog. There. Feel better, now?” And he swaggered off, making sure for the second time that his sword was loose in its scabbard.