Dropping his now-empty pistol, Marius ripped the flail from around his waist.
Twirling it, he approached the dais in a wary crouch.
"Well, if it isn't my old comrade-in-arms, Marius," said the warlord
sardonically as he drew a pair of short, curved swords. "Last I heard of you,
you were running a fight school on Ludus." He swung a cut at Marius'
head and another at his knee. The lanista blocked the head-cut with his
gauntlet and jumped over the other, sending back a whistling sweep of the
flail.
"I've come up in the System. Military advisor to cardinals, no less. Sorry to
be doing this, but it's your world or me, so your world goes."
Bandinegri dodged the flail. "Well, we all work out the best deal for
ourselves that we can. I never liked you much anyway, Marius." Those were the
last words spoken. The fight was brief, sweaty and grueling. A
smashing blow of the flail caught the cuirass, knocking the warlord off
balance, another brought him to his knees, and a hammer blow of the spiked
gauntlet crushed in the side of his jeweled helmet.
Marius struck the switch that opened the great door, and the monks rushed in.
Miles stepped to the warlord's side. The man was barely conscious, and
obviously dying. Miles shook his head.
"Do you have a last confession to make. Warlord Bandinegri? It is not too
late."
The warlord seemed to return to full consciousness for a few seconds;
his eyes focused briefly. His mouth began to work, and he attempted to speak.
Miles leaned forward to catch his words.
"It's been worth it," whispered the warlord, and died.
Chapter Fifteen
The banqueting was over, and the host and his principal guests sat in the
consul's receiving-room in the consular palace in Augusta, drinking vintage
wine and conversing in the cool of the evening. The curtains had been drawn
back, to allow a view of the three small moons to enter the room, along with
the pleasant night air of Charun. On one side of the low table sat Cardinal
Van Horn, flanked by Father Lame Deer and Monsignor
Ortega. On the other sat Father Miles and Parma Sicarius. At the head of the
table was Princess Ludmilla, now the consul.
"Well, my friends," said the consul, "now that the curse of the soulless is
eliminated from our domain, what is next on the agenda?" Ludmilla was eager to
be about God's work. Van Horn was gratified at the conversion of the
government of Charun, but still a bit suspicious nevertheless.
"There remains. Your Grace," said the cardinal, "the problem of the pirates,
who will prove a far tougher nut to crack than the late Warlord of
Cadmus."
"How so?" queried the consul. "Their ships are antiquated and number only a
few hundred, while yours are modern and await in the thousands.
Their bases are few, having only two planets, Melos and Illyria, neither of
them as well defended as was Cadmus."
"The problem, if Your Grace will excuse me," replied Ortega, "is one of
Church law regarding Holy War. According to our rules, all military force must
be aimed solely at any armed power consciously directed against the
Church or those peoples who enjoy the protection of the Church Militant."
"Then surely these pirates come under that category," countered consul
Ludmilla. "What is to keep you from annihilating them?"
"The problem, saving Your Grace's favor," said Lame Deer, with unaccustomed
diplomacy, "is that these pirates number only a few thousands at most, while
they hold slaves, prisoners, civilians, and non-combatants of various sorts in
numbers probably exceeding a million.
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We may not proceed against them if our actions would endanger those
innocents."
Ludmilla frowned. "Yes, of course, we must not kill the innocent. What do you
suggest, Father Miles?" The consul greatly esteemed Father Miles, and would
never forget that she owed her current position to his valuable teachings and
bravery and strength.
"Certainly, Your Grace, we'll have to infiltrate this nefarious organization
from within. That means that we must get a few good men to be accepted in the
rather loose brotherhood of pirates for a little judicious sabotage. Our
friend Marius assures us that he can accomplish this."
"Excellent!" cried Ludmilla. "What is your plan for this glorious mission?"
"Marius has a ship, the
Samnite
, bearing a crew of twenty-five. He has had connections with the pirates in
the past and it will not seem odd to them that he should seek to rejoin them,
now that he has lost his school of fighters on Ludus. The crew, of course,
shall be made up of our own agents: myself. Father Lame Deer and such of his
men as have come through the Cadmus campaign without serious injury, Parma,
and a few others."
"We must devise a ruse whereby we may bring the pirate fleets to battle in
such a manner that we can inflict a decisive defeat on them without
endangering the large number of innocents they hold. Above all, we must not
let them know the advantage that having these hostages gives them.
We have to destroy them before they can gather too much intelligence about
us."
"Father Miles," said Ludmilla firmly, "I would like to go along on this
mission, as head of the royal family."
"Surely, Consul," interrupted the cardinal, "that is not wise. This will be a
dangerous, cutthroat mission, no place for a young woman." The ancient prelate
was scandalized.
"Actually, Your Eminence," said Miles, "That might not be such a bad idea. I
can vouch for the consul's ability to take care of herself. Her face is hardly
known yet outside the palace, and she would serve as first-rate protective
coloration."
"Excellent idea!" cried Father Lame Deer.
The cardinal shook his head, knowing himself to be in the midst of a pack of
madmen.
Marius took a chart-thimble from a small box attached to the console of his
vessel, the
Samnite
, a small cruising yacht once used as a scout-ship in the days when the
Flavian System had a space navy worth boasting of.
Placing the thimble in a small hole below a screen, he pressed it in with his
thumb until there was a faint click and the screen lit up with a column of
coordinates. Marius was one of the few captains left who could actually read
the figures and know what they signified.
When the ship was spaceborne, Marius summoned his "crew" to the messroom for
their briefing. The soldier-monks no longer looked like the disciplined,
dedicated men that they were. Their garments were extremely varied, from
simple belted tunics to voluminous trousers to near nudity.
Skins had been stained or bleached, hair dyed, false hair implanted or scalps
shaved, and paints or tattoos applied. Bracelets, anklets, arm bands,
necklaces, earrings and nose rings glittered and flashed with jewels and
precious metals.
Ludmilla had dyed her golden hair black and straightened its wave. Her skin
was dyed a deep olive and her blue eyes covered with membrane-lenses to appear
deep brown. Beside her was Hedulio, brought along at Miles' insistence to keep
guard over the consul. The famous warrior's face had been surgically altered,
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so that he now could pass for an ordinary heavy-grav man. Parma was back in
his belt, boots, and loincloth from Thrax, but his face, too, had been
altered, having become rather well known through the birthday games. Miles was [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]