 
### A Matter Of Blood: Rivalry

By Julius Jamaro

Copyright 2015 Julius Jamaro

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### Chapter 1 - Racitro

Racitro, second in line of succession, examined his father's stern face as Eristoph's sands started swallowing that slender body marked by illness.

Racitro peeked at his older brother out of the corner of his eye. Wearing a silk suit, sewed to celebrate what was, to him, a big break, Espio kept his fingers intertwined in pray and his chin pressed against his enfeebled chest. Some tears of circumstance made his eyes shine before the gleaming torches.

What a great performance, Espio.

Racitro rubbed his left eye to soothe a burning caused by the pungent scent of flowers his father's corpse was giving forth. The grains of sand swallowed one-by-one any of his father's limbs and separated Racitro from those strained and stern features which had not left his father's face even after death.

Racitro shut his eyes and let out a sigh. A grumbling drowned out the liturgical cacophony produced by the stamping of the prelate's and bystanders' feet on the ground. Racitro turned towards Espio. His brother's cheeks strained in the stern expression belonged to their father.

Do you think you can intimidate me?

Their mother's hiccoughs gave Espio a very timely excuse to look away. Espio seized her arm and held her up.

Racitro pattered his boot on the dusty soil and slipped his hands into his pockets. At the first words of condolence by Flania, the boot licker, Racitro took advantage of the throng and headed for the Sapphire Palace.

Once took off those rags clean to the point of making him scratch his neck, Racitro came down the limestone staircase towards the training room. As he made his way towards the Arena of Battles basements, he could hear only the crackling of his steps and the burning of the torch.

Some flashes of light were coming out under the training room door. He came in and found Mallo, the current Champion of the Arena. Mallo glanced back at Racitro just for a few moments. Then, Mallo turned around and seemed to sneer. He arched his back and stood up.

I'm as brawny as you have never been. And this is eating your heart out.

Racitro passed through the gym facilities and reached the weight bench. He threw on a chair a soft linen cloth he had taken with himself to wipe away excretions manlier than tears. Once verified the weight of the plates heaped on the barbell, he wrapped his fingers around it. He searched for the better position for his back on the bench and synchronized his breath with the muscle contractions. He lifted up. He went on pumping till a trickle of sweat slid along his temple and trickle down his hot face.

Mallo's face appeared before Racitro's eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss, fop", Mallo said. "It's a shame your father won't see you become the Champion. I know how contrary he was to your pastime."

Pastime? Racitro grinded his teeth. "You should kiss the sands he had been buried in. If he didn't reject my request for a rematch with you over the last three years, by this time, you'd languish deprived of your title and honors in the cold barn you had grown in."

Mallo pressed the barbell against Racitro's throat. Racitro tightened his fingers around the barbell and lifted. But he couldn't. His burdened throat shut. He tried to get some air. The sweat in his hands weakened his grip. He panted, looking for some air. He grinded his teeth again and lifted. He gave up. He panted. He tried again and again. Everything turned black before his eyes.

Mallo drew his hands back and burst out laughing. Racitro started coughing.

"I might have finished you off if I only had wanted", Mallo said. "Do you really think something has changed over the last three years? Your broad shoulders just make you look handsome. But it's not the amount of flattering sighs the young ladies address you with, when you pass before them, that makes you a warrior, fop."

Mallo headed for the door. Racitro sat up on the bench. "Someday, I'll deprive you of your title and honors. Time is ripe to coronate a new King of the Arena."

Mallo turned around with a scornful smile on his face. "Then, it seems I'll have to curry favor with your brother, the next King. His quips aren't so bad, after all."

Mallo shut the door after himself. Racitro jumped up and punched the punching bag. The hook on the ceiling creaked. At the abrupt bag recoil, Racitro's right knuckle started burning. He shook his right hand in the air and went on punching the bag with the left one.

Someday, I'll sit on your throne, Mallo. And, then, on Espio's one.

The fresh morning breeze blew on Racitro's forehead and raised heady and tickling puffs of dust. Standing in the middle of the Arena battle field, Racitro ran his wrist on his forehead and dried the sweat wetting his bangs.

Casl came out from one of the holes in the Arena limestone walls, tall three times him, and reached Racitro.

"I knew you'd have been the first this morning, as usual", Casl started examining Racitro. "How long have you been training? Since the dawn?"

"Since the dusk."

Casl raised both eyebrows. "Dang. I should have known better", he bent his head. "You're a man of few words this morning."

I'm not in mourning. "You know. I prefer to let my muscles speak."

Casl turned his eyes to the half-ripped archery target and to the javelins, lying on the dusty ground, Racitro had practiced with in the previous two hours.

"How about a challenge?" Racitro said.

Casl looked at the javelins and sneered.

That's a yes.

Casl kneeled down and Racitro stepped back. Racitro's friend picked up the javelin at his feet. Racitro peeked out of the corner of his eye at the closest javelin.

Casl assaulted with a downcut from right. Racitro dodged it and moved his feet swiftly in the dust, two steps leftwards and backwards. Casl raised the javelin over his shoulder and dealt a downcut from left.

Way too predictable.

Racitro drew another step back. Then, he charged with his shoulder and hit Casl on the chest. Casl crashed to the ground in a big din. Racitro rushed towards a javelin placed ten Steps on his left. He heard a hiss. He swerved two steps leftwards. Casl's javelin brushed by Racitro's right knee. It touched the ground and started pirouetting and overturning.

That was smart of you. But you didn't ponder well the consequences. You're unarmed, now.

Racitro picked up the javelin and advanced towards Casl, who, like a prey, turned his back to the lion. Racitro halted, turned the javelin with the tip pointing towards his back, charged on the left foot and threw. The javelin tucked between Casl's legs and this man tripped in a puddle of mud. Racitro reached his friend, ready for some scuffling.

Casl rolled over, back on the ground and hands stretched forward. "Ok. Ok. I give up."

A giant spot of damp mud expanded on Casl's shirt from one shoulder to the other.

Racitro ran his hand on his forehead and attenuated the discomfort caused by a couple of drops of sweat.

"You're sweating. It seems I gave you a hard time, today."

Racitro puffed. "This one? It's just what remains of my long night or, perhaps, it's due to the sun which is starting to warm me up."

"Glad to see your loss has not deadened your good spirits", Casl stood up and started cleaning his dirty shirt. Racitro pointed his finger at Casl's chin.

"Uh, is my face dirty?" Casl raised his chin and puffed up his chest. "I'll proudly keep this mud on my beard to prove my bravery in challenging you."

"What about a rematch?"

"Swords?"

"It seems you enjoyed your bath in the mud."

Racitro leaned forward and picked up a pair of javelins.

Casl did the same. "Have you heard about the fray?"

Racitro stared at Casl. "Which fray?"

"The one which will take place tomorrow evening. One of the many events to celebrate the coronation of your beloved brother as King of Ridget."

Beloved? You're pulling my legs, aren't you? "Don't be silly. If someone had scheduled a fray, I'd have been the first to know."

"I couldn't be more serious, Prince. Calico told me your brother impulsively decided to sanction it. The winner of the fray will be honored with the chance of challenging the Champion of the Arena the night of the coronation."

Racitro twirled the javelins in his hands and smiled.

I'll defeat Mallo Cerzo in Espio's great day to be crowned King of the Arena. Espio's such a dumb. What does he think the troubadours will sing the praises of? His unbounded ability to lower his callous buttocks on the throne? Or my legendary feats on the battle field? "I've been biding my time waiting for a chance like this over the last three years. It's my great opportunity, Casl."

Casl persisted in a circumspect silence. His brown eyes looked away from Racitro.

"What's the matter with you?"

Casl sighed. "I never wanted you to hear it from me."

Racitro's left arm started tingling. A hot flush ran from his belly all the way up to his chest. He took some deep breaths.

Please, tell me he didn't do what I think he did. "Do you mean..."

"I'm sorry."

The two javelins Racitro had in his hands crackled on the ground. "He can't. He has no rights about it."

"Soon your brother will be King. His wish is our command."

Racitro kicked the javelins, which crackled in their haphazard bounces. He headed for the Sapphire Palace, rumbling his feet on the ground.

Racitro stamped the mud under his boots soles on the marble steps, hand-polished by the servants, inside the Sapphire Palace. It was like he was treading on the sparkly armors of those warriors Espio had not allowed him to compete in the fray with. He stamped his foot among the jaws of the Lion featured in his family's coat of arms inlayed in the big entrance hall floor. Racitro accessed the stairs leading at the royal apartments.

Along the upstairs aisle, he chanced upon Maire Valesi's outraged frown. As he passed by her, an ignoble stench rose from his armpits. He bent his head and looked at his chest dotted with soil and sweat stains.

The rumbling of his boots on the floor hushed up the nattering of the noble ladies crowded along the aisles and sparked interest in the workers busy adorning the Sapphire Palace for Espio's ceremony. The entire aisle had been filled with tapestries and posies with the sole purpose of glorifying Espio's supposed feats. A riot of bright colors which badly matched with the plain, but regal, background of columns and arches built by Racitro's ancestors and which debased all the sumptuousness of the sapphires set in the capitals.

What an eyesore. But, if you don't acquiesce to my requests, I promise that won't be the last, brother.

He stormed into his brother's bedroom, but found just a servant, busy lining a pillow, who froze in her tracks. Racitro retraced his steps and headed for Espio's study, where, given the time, Espio was certainly busy talking with Master Tobiarte for breakfast.

The study door opened wide well before Racitro could stretch his hand to seize the handle. The graceful figure of his mother, wearing a long blue linen dress embellished with white laces, stood out in all her magnificence among the statues of the great Kings and Queens of the past. Espio uttered a bleat intended to greet their mother. She returned Espio's greet with a smile and waved her right hand fingers in a loving gesture.

You've never greeted me that way.

"Racitro?"

Her gentle smile turned in a glower full of indignation. Her brown eyes started examining him from head to foot. "Why are you here? And look at the state of you. Your attire doesn't befit the regality of the place where we're. And what this stench is..." she held her nose with those same fingers she had used to greet Espio. "Is it your intention to request an audience with Espio in such an indecorous state? For Eristoph's sake, you're a Prince. How many times your poor father told you?"

Far too many. And, if I'm not wrong, he used to remind me that I was born to be Prince and I'd die as such. "I beg your pardon, mother. It's my intention to converse with Espio about matters of the utmost importance."

"For Eristoph's sake, not even the vilest of the boors ever dared to come before the King bare-chested."

"Oh, really? Can you recall the last time you saw a boor talking with a King?"

"I recall your father used to grant audience with many worthy representatives of the people. Just a lunarquarter before his death, poor him, he granted audience with shepherds and winegrowers."

"Yes, but with the sole purpose of having the best cut of meat and the most aged Angusta red wine on his dining table."

"If your father heard you..." She clutched her dress skirt and wrinkled it. "Show some respect for who grew you. And show it to your brother as well. He'll be your next King."

"I have no time to waste, mother. My brother is accustomed to see me sweaty and dirty."

"You and your unwholesome obsession of the Arena. When will you set your mind at rest? How long do you want me to spend my nights pining away after you and praying Eristoph that nobody cuts you off a hand, a foot or something worse?"

"I don't recall the last time someone has met one's death. But, since you brought up the subject, tell me, this foolish idea of ruling me out of the fray, is it yours?"

The wrinkles on her dress sharpened in correspondence with her fists. "Don't use that tone with me. I'm the Queen and, most of all, I'm your mother. For Eristoph's sake. Where did you get such insolence? From the wrong crowd you hang around with, certainly."

"It's a discourtesy not to answer a question."

She muttered. "It was my decision. Espio just willingly approved my suggestion."

As usual. You're taking his side to your own detriment. "Ok. Let me converse with my brother to redress your mistake."

"Espio is busy with more exigent duties. Soon he'll be King and he'll have responsibilities much more important than the result of a silly battle."

The tension in her neck veins dropped and she mellowed. "Even if you often squabble, I know that your brotherly bond overcomes each of your divergences. The reason why Espio decided to rule you out of the fray is that he loves you."

A hot flush spread through Racitro's chest.

He swerved beside his mother, determined to grab the handle. His mother clutched his left biceps with her gentle hands.

"You can't come in without announcing yourself", his mother scolded him.

He found Espio and the eye-catching green and gold doublet he was wearing. Espio was sat on the other side of the ash wooden table wide from one wall to the other. Beside him, there were master Tobiarte and three large goat skin labeled tomes written by the master himself. Espio flaunted his irritating imperturbable composure. Master Tobiarte's eyes radiated spirals of disdain and his lips got ready to spit poison.

"How dare you?" the master said. He leaped up, but, a moment after, he bent his head with contrition. "My Queen."

Racitro peeked at the bristly adolescent beard Espio had let grow over the last days with the puerile purpose of appearing less puny and wiser before those same courtiers he was going to govern. Racitro turned at his brother's brown eyes, imbued with pleasure, and clenched his fists.

"Mother", the cozied up to the throne said. "There's no need for you to hang around. I know you're plenty of occupations which require your attention. Please. I assure you that it won't take us more than a few minutes to settle the question Racitro wanted to bring to my attention."

The mother nodded; then, she squawked something incomprehensible and slammed the door after her with unusual bad manners.

"How dare you come before your King in such an indecorous state?" It seemed Tobiarte could faint at any moment. "Oh...your father would have saddened so much if he had seen how undisciplined and vulgar you are."

"Don't you get upset, master", Espio said. "Please. If my brother has come here in the royal apartments without taking the trouble of making himself more presentable is certainly because he has business of the utmost urgency to bring to the attention of the next King", Espio pointed his finger at the master's seat. "Please. Take a seat and let Racitro enlighten us."

I can't stand you when you talk that way.

Racitro faced their two inquiring gazes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I heard you announced a fray I can't take part in."

"And that's why you came here?" The master said.

"Don't dispraise him", Espio seized the master's arm to limit and appease the master's ardor. "I guess Racitro has come filthy and smelly because he wants to make us aware of how important is for him to fight in the Arena."

"You're way too patient, my King", the master glanced at Espio with a sly face. Then, his eyes full of poison turned to Racitro. "You could learn a lot from your brother."

"Be quiet, master", Racitro said. Then, he addressed Espio. "So, is it your intention to settle this question?"

"Truth to be told, my dear brother, I long mused on this question. You're brawny, you're skillful, and who most deserves a combat with Mallo, if not you? But, then, I thought better of it. You already had your chance with Mallo Cerzo. As you know I'm going to be King and, as such, I'll be in charge of administering justice. That's why I thought it was fairer to give a chance to those who had not a chance so far."

You think you're smart, huh? Let's see if you enjoy your same dish. "But what we're talking about is not just any battle. It's the one to celebrate your coronation. And who could bring you more honor than me?"

"But, dear brother, in the fray the competitors employ real swords, cutting swords, not like the training ones you use to brandish for your own delight."

Racitro felt his forehead veins pulse.

He's trying to provoke me, to induce me a violent reaction just to feed his own smugness. If dad taught me something is that a submission is worth a thousand words. "Tell me what you want."

Espio hardly refrained from rubbing his hands. "My dear brother. I was well aware we'd have this kind of conversation the moment I decided to rule you out of the fray. However, far be it from me to think you'd have stooped to agree to my terms in such a submissive manner. I expected much more theatricality on your part. You could have beaten up one of the other competitors and took part in the fray under the mysterious appearance of an unknown warrior."

"That was Terzito's stratagem. Far be it from me to think you had not yet cudgeled your brain to avoid I could have made use of it. So, get to the point."

"Beautiful. I'll satiate your desire of blood and sweat. You'll take part in the fray."

"Under what terms?"

"Let's see", Espio drummed his forefinger on his cheek and he pulled a ravenous face.

I know you don't need to think about it. You're sole purpose is to prolong your amusement.

"I demand..." Curse you. "You bring my crown on the green velvet goose down cushion along the nave of the Temple of Eristoph the day of my coronation before the entire royal court and the most distinguished representatives of the commoners."

Racitro clenched his fists.

I might put the signature of my knuckles on your face and make you the first King to ascend the throne with a black eye.

"In addition, I demand you physically put the crown on my head as a sign of your loyalty."

Racitro studied his right knuckle, his fingers clenched into a fist and the dirt under his nails.

"Lastly, I demand you are the first to kneel before me and pronounce the traditional proclamation formula."

Racitro smashed his right fist in his left palm before his chest. He started wheezing and the bitter taste of humiliation started spreading in his mouth. He stepped towards his brother, determined to shatter that pleased snout. His right leg had a cramp, forcing him to stagger. He desisted.

Think. He started breathing long and deeply. The Arena. The Arena is more important. The Arena is my Kingdom.

He released his right fist from the left hand and bent his head in a deep breath.

"Fine for me."

Then, Racitro left the room with the sole regret of not having contemplated longer his brother's lost expression.

### Chapter 2 - Espio

Espio dug with his buttocks in the doeskin couch stuffing, trying to relieve the muscle tension which has been gripping his back since he woke up. He folded his arms and started tapping his fingers on the left biceps. "A King shouldn't be stuck to wait a bunch of filthy fighters for so long. Shortly, I'm granting audience with the cooks to decide which courses will be served for my coronation feast."

Celete shook his head as he had just awoken from that lethargy he seemed to fall in every time Espio gave him a break. The elder's eyelids blinked asynchronously. "Aclezio will be here any minute now along with the five favorites for the fray. But I wonder if it's wise to waste so many efforts in these minor matters considering your impelling schedule."

Espio puffed.

I gotta treat myself to something which could satisfy my delight.

Espio put his left elbow on the couch arm and laid his chin on the knuckle. He dawdled shaking his goblet, half-filled with nutmeg mulled red wine. Then, he started sipping, again and again.

I didn't expect Racitro to come to terms. I can't let him win in the day I've been waiting for twenty-four years.

Someone knocked on the door just before the sores formed on Espio's buttocks forced him to change sitting position. Judging by the deep, though cheerful, voice, it was Aclezio; the man was wearing a doublet adorned with emerald-green sequins far more vivid than the sober charcoal tunic the elder Celete was wearing. Five brutes came in after Aclezio, like chicks following mother hen. They were all a head and neck taller than Aclezio. They looked strong, their muscles standing out like in the ancient heroes' sculptures. Aclezio had gussied them up, but their pumped up bodies had strained the refined shapes of the court doublets, most of all around the shoulders and the waist.

My supposed champions are nothing more than five barely polished rocks wrapped in linen festoons.

The five guys lined up before Espio and made a great display of their ungraceful oblique postures. Two of them, in particular, had unnatural hunched backs. A big scar, departing from the left ear and furrowing the wooded beard along the mandible shape, flashed on a third man's face. The evasive pupils of a fourth one suggested he was affected by strabismus. The last one, who was the youngest, showed a better composure which suggested he was of noble origins, or, at least, accustomed to the noble manners. He persisted in fiddling with his blond curls, which went on falling before his eyes.

"Your Majesty", Aclezio bowed. "Let me introduce the five favorites for tonight's fray. I'm pretty sure that, at the end of the strife, you'll give your praise to one of these five valiant fighters. I daily saw them sweating, getting dirty, falling, getting back on their feet and fighting without ever surrender."

You're good at jabbering. But you didn't touch on what intrigues me the most.

"Tell me. Who, among these youngsters, can match up with my brother?"

The study fell on silence.

"It's clear that none of these fearless fighters can match up with my brother, isn't it?

"You're right, Majesty. As usual. But I can assure you that all of them can boast outstanding abilities in fighting with sword and spear. And they are strong enough to lift your brother over the head and fling him in the dust."

"Are you telling me you don't know who the best is?"

Aclezio hesitated. "You see, sire. Given your thorough experience, I thought I could entrust you of the choice."

"And since when, if you please, have I become experienced in fighting?"

On his stuffed chair, Celete came back to life. "Why not relying on all of them, Majesty? The combined abilities of five participants out of twenty will assure you a greater probability to win the dispute against your brother. I had seen a lot of frays and all of them had been characterized by a continuous evolution of alliances and betrayals. If one of them can't defeat your brother, five will do the trick."

That's why I wanted you by my side. But that's not enough. I can't rely on fragile alliances. "Your idea is enticing me, but it needs the King's personal touch", Espio addressed the five warriors. "Personally, supporting one of you over the others doesn't spark my interest. As tradition, the Arena will crown the winner. But, just to be clear, you must impede my brother from being crowned winner. I'll lavish you ten gold coins per head if you agree to collaborate to eliminate my brother from the combat. In addition, I'll lavish ten gold coins to the one of you who personally forces him to surrender."

The five brutes raised their heads at unison and got cocky at the prospect. They looked at each other with complicity and whispered in their uncouth language of the jungle. Espio dismissed them, not eager at all to listen to their disputes.

I made my move, brother. I'm eager to see how you'll answer back.

Espio emerged on the Arena bleachers. He was welcomed by the shrill blare of the trombonists. The commoners raised their buttocks to pay respectful homages to the most illustrious person's entry. Espio waved his hand just to make that heap of Ducats-squander slobs happy.

Thanks be to my ancestor Caiano who imposed to these boors to pay a fee to enter the Arena. The reward on Racitro won't bite into the royal coffers.

Espio walked through two sides of crowd the royal guards were keeping at bay. Nonetheless, fetid gusts of underarm miasmas pestered Espio's nostrils.

Once on the royal dais, Espio plunged his buttocks in the soft silk covered goose down cushion of his throne and laid his hands on the throne arms carved with legendary warriors' feats. One of the protruding amethyst set in the throne arm made his right wrist itch. Espio warped the cushion with the buttocks and found the most pleasing position.

Since he wasn't married, his mother sat on his left. A stern apprehension wrinkled her face features and, true to form, she fell on a ritual silence in which she didn't seem to take breath. After Racitro's entry, she would have started hiccupping and sighing in each occurrence her beloved second son had suffered under his opponents' blows.

If all goes as I planned, I'll have a hard time trying to console you tonight, mum.

The rusty rattling of the portcullis in the runners was drowned out by the girls' insufferable screams at the sight of such muscular abundance. Espio shivered due to the icy breath of wind which accompanied his brother's entry on the battle field.

Espio beckoned the cupbearer to come and fill Espio's silver goblet. As she was pouring the hot mulled wine in the goblet, Espio examined all the tomfooleries Racitro was making to curry favor with the commoners.

He waves his sword in the air as a jester juggles the balls.

Nonetheless, the commoners replied with a unanimous sigh of praise.

"Racitro. Racitro. Up here. Up here", the mother said.

Stunned by his mother's shrills, not so dissimilar to the wrong notes of an out of tone flautist, Espio jumped on the right throne arm.

Once Racitro had come before Espio, either he didn't bow, or he didn't pay those homages the tradition demanded. Instead, he compensated with a defiant glance. However, Racitro was the first who looked away.

"What a bad discipline", Aclezio pulled a face full of indignation, begging, perhaps, for Espio's praise.

Enjoy your appetizer, brother; you won't get to the dessert.

One-by-one, the other nineteen fighters made their entries in what soon became a monotonous parade. The warriors spared no effort strutting around to butter Espio up, but he paid no attention to that. Instead, he examined their physical thews. Someone was taller than Racitro, but nobody had broader shoulders. All of them were wearing complete armors and nearly identical shields. Nonetheless, Espio could discern them by the weapon they were brandishing.

After the umpteenth entry, Espio peeked at his brother. He's still greeting the people. Is it possible that none of those men can induce even a small uneasiness in his full of himself attitude?

Espio made a fake yawn. An easy, but effective, trick to persuade the officiators to put an end to that boring ceremonial.

Thanks be to dad for teaching me that.

Espio made himself more comfortable on the throne and leaned forward to have a better prospective of his brother's actions. The five fighters on Espio's payroll were positioned in random order, but none of them was too far from pleasing Espio.

The fighters took their fencing stances at unison. They raised swords, clubs and spears which sparkled under a still high sun. As the horn sounded, the fighters shouted at the top of their voices their war cries.

The first who attacked Racitro was a small man with short arms and armed with a spear. The small man's ardent impetus forced Racitro to draw two steps back. Racitro made a pleonastic pirouette intended to curry favor with the commoners. Then, he moved towards the small man, his steps much longer than the small man's ones. Racitro lowered twice the venomous sword, he was arrogantly holding with only the right hand, on the opponent's shield. The small man's spear lowered towards Racitro's left knee, but Racitro twirled his sword and deflected it. Racitro counterattacked with a blow from above first, then, one from below. The small man dodged both and counterattacked lowering his spear from above. Racitro not only dodged that attack, but grasped with the free hand the spear spiked head and tugged the small man within his sword range. Racitro lowered his sword from above. The inept small man didn't even try to dodge it or escape it. The sword crashed on the small man's shield, which exploded in a storm of wooden splinters. The small man crashed to the ground, where he crawled with the grace of a worm. Racitro lowered his sword from above and hit between neck and shoulder with an ability befitting a barber surgeon. The spear flopped on the ground and the small man's carcass disappeared in the dust.

I hope for Aclezio's sake that my five favorites can do better than this.

The studded club of one of the two humpbacked favorites pealed like a bell clapper as it crashed on Racitro's shield. Racitro withdrew his arm and shook it as he was in the grip of an agonizing pain. Espio's mother cried, putting the final touch on that polyphonic bliss.

Racitro swerved on right first, and then on left with overbearing conceit. The hunchback withdrew and lifted the shield. A first blow from left, a second one from right, a third one from left, a fourth from right, another from left and again from right. The hunchback's long feet tripped one into the other. The hunchback gasped in the dust. Racitro aimed at the humpbacked man's neck.

And there goes the first.

The other hunchback rushed to give support at his equally humpbacked accomplice. Racitro parried the first two sword blows, both from above. Then, he swerved rightward after a third blow and interposed his shield against the previously fallen hunchback's club. Racitro drew back, but went on swinging his sword like a wasp stinger. The humpbacked swordsman engaged Racitro. Racitro parried the blow and drew back to dodge the club, which couldn't provoke him any kind of itch. Racitro parried each of the swordsman's blows as his sword had known beforehand where the subsequent lunge would have come from. Racitro dodged the club, which crashed on the ground and raised a granular and thick cloud of dust. Racitro parried again with the shield a lateral blow and lowered his sword from above. The hunchback's sword was devoured by the cloud of dust his humpbacked accomplice had raised a few moments before. Men of means and grass roots sighed unanimously. With unbridled irreverence, Racitro went on parrying the club blows and, concurrently, he made the sword he took away from the swordsman's hand dance in the sand by kicking it with the heels.

Espio's arms flopped. I cannot believe it.

The people stood up. Espio's mother clapped her hands in jubilation and barely refrained from standing up. Racitro managed to get a smile out of the ever mild-mannered Celete. Aclezio leaped up in jubilation and pumped his fist to the sky, a shameless behavior Espio had never seen before.

Racitro unarmed even the other hunchback, who withdrew protected by the shield only. Racitro's sword hit the hunchback at the knee. The hunchback hunched even more, exposing his head. Racitro lunged and hit between neck and right shoulder, as precise and clear-headed as he had been with the small man. The hunchback languished on the ground with a fractured clavicle.

Just six more to go. Eristoph forbid Racitro defeats them.

Sword in his hand, the blond curly-haired youngster joined the humpbacked swordsman and the two men engaged Racitro.

Their blows lack coordination and timing. Why don't they hit Racitro in unison?

Racitro was pushed against the Arena wall. Despite he couldn't draw back a single step more, he went on counterstriking his two opponents as if he wasn't restricted at all.

He is scoffing and ridiculing them. Espio banged his right fist on the throne arm. And where are my other two favorites?

The cockeyed man, armed with a spear, rushed to give support to his accomplices. The scarred man, instead, persisted on fighting against the last opponent other than Racitro.

"That's unfair", Espio's mother leaped up. "Three on one. You cowards."

There's no need for you to get that worried, mum. They'll give him a black eye to the utmost. Or a broken arm.

Racitro parried the curly-haired swordsman's blow with the shield and crossed his sword with the hunchback. Then, he dodged the cockeyed man's spear.

He may be cockeyed, but he sees the target better than his accomplices.

The hunchback caught Racitro off guard and thrust his sword towards Racitro's left shoulder. He scratched Racitro's chest plate.

"No", his mother's voice lowered.

Espio banged his fist on the throne arm and stared daggers at her.

How I'd have liked to delight myself with the sweet melody of his cracking bones.

Racitro raised high his shield. The opponents lowered their swords from above. Racitro parried them, but the spear passed through a free opening at the level of Racitro's pelvis. Racitro collapsed on his left knee first, then on both. The curly-haired swordsman hit him on the armet, not far from the ventail.

Espio pumped his fist in the air. It's over.

"Stop them. My baby. Don't dare hurt him. He's your Prince."

Probably only Espio heard her amid the excited and tense shouts the commoners were uttering. Espio didn't lend weight on her words. He leaned his feet on the floor and hunched forward to better peek between the humpbacked swordsman's legs.

Racitro was lying on the ground, sword over his shield in a desperate attempt to protect his belly and chest. He haphazardly swung the sword towards the three opponents, who...were busy jabbering.

Espio leaped up. "For Eristoph's sake. What are you doing?"

In his impetus, Espio poured the wine out of the goblet on the poor Licinio Svelto.

Espio turned towards his mother, who scowled, though her eyes looked languid. Firm on his seat, Celete didn't move a muscle, as he was snoozing.

"Majesty, I beg you. Don't get upset", Aclezio moved his palms downward, as he was asking Espio to take his seat.

Blood and wine rushed to Espio's head. The three pinheads went on chatting.

Don't just stand there. Finish him off.

The scarred man rushed towards the three accomplices. He thrust his spear in the curly-haired swordsman's back. The youngster collapsed in the dust and moved only to clutch his own shoulder. The two men still standing looked dazed and stared at the scarred man. Rather than finishing Racitro, they assailed that idiot. The cockeyed man's spear wounded the scarred man at the knee.

"You must finish Racitro off first", the hyped up commoners' pattering drowned out Espio's shouts.

"We went for the wrong strategy, Majesty", Celete said.

"Are you saying those boors are fighting for the last miserable ten gold coins?"

Celete nodded. Espio sank on his throne.

Racitro stood up, his back leaning against the wall. His severe swellings didn't prevent him from getting closer to the two duelists. The cockeyed man lowered his spear on the humpbacked swordsman's thigh. The cockeyed man slipped the armet off his head and flung it in the air. Racitro creeped up on him.

Espio banged both fists on the throne arms. It can't be over.

Then, Espio started shaking his right hand in the air. The carved amethyst he had banged on had hurt him.

The commoners' shouts snapped the cockeyed man back from his bliss. He turned around just in time to enjoy Racitro's kiss. Racitro's sword parted the cockeyed man's from his ear. Unsatisfied, Racitro cracked the cockeyed man's humerus. The spear vanished in the dust. The cockeyed man crashed on his knees.

Espio put his right hand on his forehead as a migraine, caused by the horn ringing on his eardrums, started pestering him.

On the Temple of Eristoph predella, Espio stood upright and held his head high. It was time for the long craved coronation as new King of Ridget. But, since the sun had not yet appeared to the east, he persisted in shuffling his boots soles on the polished marble, making his gold velvety ermine hemmed cape, pinned to a grass green suit embellished with golden embroideries, flap.

The resonant temple domes were still tinged of a grayish darkness barely lightened by the dim lights of the candelabra placed on the pedestals. The courtiers and the most distinguished representatives of the commoners were busy braying. Something that made Espio's armpit itch.

They are more engaged discoursing about tonight's Racitro's match rather than about my imminent coronation. Well, once ascertained Racitro's current conditions, we'll see if they keep wasting their breath.

Espio perceived a wing beat. He glanced up towards the dome and caught a glimpse of the bad omen of a pigeon perched on the inner cornice.

Eristoph forbid anyone sees it.

"Look up there. A pigeon", Espio turned around and looked daggers at that superstitious peasant who had just leaped up, forefinger pointed at the pigeon.

"Eristoph curse him", a vile peasant said.

"Wars and famines. That's what we'll face under his lead", an evil woman said.

"Bird which blesses the King, brings troubles on its wing", a sordid elder said.

Gilded by the rising sun, Racitro appeared under the great arched portal and put an end to those reviling idiocies. The evening before, Espio had been forced to put up with his mother's pleas of exempting Racitro from that duty. But Espio refused to listen to reason.

You're fighting against Mallo tonight. So, don't dare make believe you're injured.

The crown lying on the cushion glowed overshadowing the sun. Though very phlegmatic in his motion, Racitro was forced to move a hundred and sixty unforgettable Steps along the nave. The shuffling of Racitro's boots on the gravelly ground was the most sublime and befitting fanfare Espio could have ever imagined.

I'll reward the cockeyed man with two gold coins as heartfelt thanks.

Racitro advanced and his eyes persisted in staring downward...at the crown.

Take a good look at it, brother. You'll never wear that magnificent gold crown.

Racitro hesitated right before the predella. He mounted on the first step and grimaced as he was trying to repress what certainly had been a deep annoying twinge in the pelvis.

I wonder if he suffers more now or if he'll suffer more when he put the crown on my head.

Racitro took his eyes away from the crown. His reddened eye, underlying the necrotic violet eyelid, was the ruby that gold crown, full of sapphires and emeralds, was lacking.

Racitro gave the prelate the cushion and stretched his hands to lift the crown from its soft support. Espio stood upright, not giving his brother a hair's breadth of advantage.

You must hold a shield with the left arm tonight; so, don't dare make believe you are suffering with your grimaces.

Racitro seized the crown with his abnormal hands. His robust fingers were completely unsuitable in handling such a fragile and beautiful thing. The crown was lifted from the cushion. A moment after, it felt on it.

Espio's heart throbbed. Don't dare insult me with such a mean expedient.

Espio admonished Racitro with the eyes. Racitro didn't show any reaction. He hesitated. Then, he seized the crown with the right hand only and raised it over Espio's head. The icy metal kissed Espio's temples and flattened his hair. A light itch started annoying Espio near the left ear.

Racitro drew one step back and persisted in staring at his own King with his piercing chestnut eyes.

Don't you dare address me with scornful words or I'll give your tongue back to Eristoph.

"Worthy gentlemen. Noblewomen. Here is, raising in the sun, blessed by Eristoph, your new King." 'Your'? Do you mean I'm not your King, then? "Espio Cilantes of Ridget, your subjects pay you homage. Long li-", he coughed. "The King."

It took Racitro a long priceless time to genuflect.

Espio persisted in staring down at those defiant eyes. He barely perceived the prelates, the courtiers and the commoners as they genuflected around him.

You're the only one I want to see genuflected before me, Racitro.

Racitro's eyes rolled upward to the crown, then, downward, staring again at Espio.

As Eristoph is my witness, this crown will never lay on your head.

### Chapter 3 - Racitro

Sat on a small wooden chair facing the great wrought iron portcullis, Racitro shut his eyes and started listening to all those whispers coming from the bleachers. He let out a gasp and went on tightening his fingers around the sword hilt, whose edge had just been sharpened on the whetstone, trying to relieve his right arm from a pestering tingling.

The battle I'm about to fight can only have one outcome. I'll be crowned King, or I'll perish in exile.

He peeked at the all-changing amber-colored gleams inside the tunnel. After an eructation, the taste of the decoction made with cabbage and malodorous wild herbs, Facsil had prepared as a relief for Racitro's physical pain, spread on his palate. Racitro swung his left shoulder. He didn't feel any kind of twinge. He ran his hand on the right hip, which was pestered by a persistent burning.

I can afford only short steps and close-range attacks.

He patted twice on his armet with his left hand.

"The Arena won't lavish you its glory before marking your body with at least six bruises, two bruised ribs and a broken tooth", a guy seven, actually eight, years older than Racitro said.

Racitro, twelve years old at the time, was lying on his knees after his first day of practicing. He was trying to repress the gasps when his mother started ruffling his dripping hair with a linen cloth. A myriad of shadows surrounded Racitro. The guy's steps got fainter. Iaquero, the King's guard captain at the time, seized Racitro by the armpits and got him back on his feet.

"Don't listen to him", his mother leaned forward. "I'll be always by your side because I don't want you to get hurt. And, in case that happens, our personal archiater will relieve each of your bruise."

The mother addressed the bystanders. "Who was that boor? Certainly, he is not of noble birth."

"Nobody is of noble birth down here", Calico said. "Except the little prince, obviously. As many of us, Mallo Cerzo had been brought up in the wrong side of the town. I heard his father had died when he was just two. And his mother, poor woman, to support his three children had been forced to scratch men's itch-"

"Don't say that in front of my kid", his mother plugged his ears.

Racitro freed himself and ran towards Mallo Cerzo. The boy was busy piling plates on the barbell. "Would you teach me?"

The guy peeked at Racitro out of the corner of the eye. "I'm too busy, kid. But I'm sure your privileges will allow you to learn from the best instructors. As long as you can get off your bed tomorrow."

I know I never roused your sympathy, Mallo. But, as time went by, we bridged our differences. And now, we've both become archetypes of the most valiant warriors.

Racitro twirled the sword hilt between his palms and dug the point into the soft and dusty ground heaped between his sabatons. Then, he checked that pauldrons, plackart and upper cannons were correctly laced up.

Mallo knows where they had hit me during the fray. No doubts he'll aim right at those spots.

Casl laid his hands on Racitro's pauldrons as a falcon clutches a prey.

"How do you feel?" Casl gave Racitro a shoulder shake. "Judging by the level of your spine tension, I guess you're thinking about your last battle against Mallo Cerzo."

I should focus on that, actually.

Casl tightened the straps of Racitro's never so heavy round shield. The golden lion, emblem of the House of Cilantes, portrayed on a green field on the shield gleamed.

"Poor Mallo", Casl said. "He's going to face two lions today."

That's a silly observation, my good man. A lion is strong, nimble, quick, and most of all, lethal. But a lion faces only those enemies it can defeat, those who don't counterattack. I have been planning my revenge over the last three years. And now that the day I've been waiting for so long has come, I'm affected by memory lapses and I don't remember the lesson that, night after night, I've been repeating myself turning it into obsession.

The trumpets blared. Racitro stood up. The icy vapors given off by the portcullis horizontal iron bar brushed by his nose. Racitro looked at the glares of light moving aimlessly beyond the portcullis. He seized the bar with his steel covered left hand and shook the portcullis.

For Eristoph's sake. Why have the spikes not yet started lifting from the ground?

Casl laid a hand on Racitro's shoulder. "Calm down. What you've just heard was the trumpet announcing your brother's entry."

Racitro drew two steps back and sank into the creaking chair. He dug his sword into the ground, laid the right hand on the pommel, the left hand on the right one and the chin over both.

"You're way too tense", Casl said. "I've never seen you so tense. Maybe, if you think you're going to fight against me, you'll feel more confident. You usually don't show any hesitation when it comes to fight against me."

That's another odd idea, my man. You're like an unlocked coffer for me. I always know when you're on the verge of swerving rightward, drawing one step back, dealing a downcut while you're still thinking about it. Mallo has not been the Champion since six, four and twenty-two cause of good fortune exclusively.

"Maybe, you'll rouse if you think you're going to fight against your brother rather than Mallo", Casl said.

You got a point. Racitro patted on his armet. My brother has got everything, by birthright. Whatever I yearn for, I gotta get it, by force.

The portcullis spikes started lifting only after Racitro had worn out and dilacerated his right boot sole. The rusty iron bars rattled in the runners with an uncertain rhythm imposed by the unenthusiastic winch operator.

Casl grabbed Racitro's shoulders and gave him a shake. "Walk in as Prince. Come out as King."

Racitro swallowed the lump. He took a deep breath and forced his right leg to support his steps. A twinge in the injured pelvis reminded him he couldn't afford steps that long. The subsequent step wasn't less hesitant, and made him feel all the roughness of the ground underlying his boot.

For Eristoph's sake. I am as tense as a bow before the shot.

He clenched the sword hilt in his fist. He twirled the wrist and aligned the sword guard with his thumb phalanx. Blinded by the sunlight of an evening sun, he shut his eyes.

He found thousands of eyes out of the tunnel.

Brother. Look. All these people have come to witness my coronation. Count them. They are ten times as many as those who witnessed yours this morning.

Racitro's mouth corners lifted in an involuntary movement. He raised the sword to the sky. The sword radiated sparkling rays of light in every direction.

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro", the most enthusiastic peasants pumped their fist in the sky.

You were welcomed by a funereal silence this morning. Nobody chanted your name as you came in, brother.

The people's fervor prompted Racitro to sprint, but a twinge in the pelvis stopped him. He jogged following the wall circle, enjoying an ovation much longer than Espio had certainly established.

At each step, he raised clouds of dust which spread the inebriating scent of blood, sweat and tears, shed from age to age, in the air.

This is the place I call home.

Before an area crowded by many young girls, the Rumianic world's most beautiful flowers petals rained down on Racitro, together with woolen wraps and some of immaculate silk. At the same time, Racitro heard the bet coins clinking as they changed hands.

Racitro came before the royal dais. Plunged into two soft silk lined cushions, Espio showed off a broad grin. Tens of pigeons flapped their wings in the sky, making the bleachers fall silent.

I thought it was strange you had not taken offence for the pigeon I had infiltrated at your ceremony.

Racitro took the liberty of not bowing before Espio and turned the back to him. The people exulted before that insubordination gesture which had become Racitro's trademark. Racitro marched towards the middle of the battle field and never looked back.

If only I had eyes on my nape, I could have enjoyed your puzzled expression, brother.

Mallo was welcomed by jubilation. The ground under Racitro's feet quaked. Mallo's childhood friends, crowded in the bleachers eastern area, were jumping on the spot, making the entire Arena vibrate. Mallo walked along the wall circle and didn't show off any kind of uncertainty. Once before Espio, he bowed. Then, he positioned just behind the furrowed line fifteen Steps away from Racitro. Mallo advanced his right foot, ready to take his fencing stance.

Racitro stared at him. Mallo didn't stare back at Racitro. It seemed Mallo was busy checking that his shield straps and his hold on the sword hilt were perfect.

That's what a real Champion should do. I must stop thinking about my brother.

Racitro seized the ventail, but a sudden gleam forced him to squint from his right eyelid. He kept his ventail lifted and peeked, with the left eye only, towards the origin of the gleams. Mallo tilted the sword, making them even more intense. Racitro shielded his eyes with the right wrist.

For Eristoph's sake. The horn has not been sounded yet and Mallo is already causing me troubles.

Racitro pattered on the spot and furrowed the ground. He took a right fencing stance, the same as Mallo. Racitro lifted the shield to the right level and at the right distance from his body. He raised the sword in mid-air and held it with a caress, so that Mallo couldn't draw any hint about Racitro's intentions. Mallo did likewise, but held the sword a little lower, as he wanted to hint that his first blow would have been an uppercut. Or an uppercut from right.

That was sly of you. That's the same blow you used to put an end to our last duel.

Racitro shook his left arm, trying to relieve from the muscular ache caused by staying in the same fencing stance without moving for a long time. The crowd all around sighed like the sea before the backwash. The horn sounded and Mallo moved two steps closer. Racitro stayed on the spot; then, he started moving rightward in quartata, forced by Mallo's initiative.

No. That's not what I planned. I must take the initiative.

Racitro halted. He advanced one step closer to Mallo. Mallo drew two steps back. Racitro moved rightward in quartata, at his own rhythm this time. He looked at Mallo's feet. They were so swift Racitro got nauseated. So, he started examining Mallo's eyes.

He's looking for an opening on my left shoulder. I knew it.

Racitro peeked at his rival's fencing stance and looked for an undefended point where to break through. But he didn't find it. Mallo got two steps closer. They were close enough for a first engagement. Racitro moved his shield closer to his chest and stiffened the right wrist. Racitro took three steps towards Mallo, putting him within sword range.

Strike first.

The slash from right clashed on Mallo's shield. Mallo skipped twice leftward. Then, he moved two steps closer, as ravenous as a lion. Racitro deflected Mallo's downcut from right and parried his slash from left. Racitro drew two steps back. His hold on the sword made less firm by the light vibrations caused by the sword clashing.

Mallo withdrew. Racitro resumed studying him.

Racitro opened the second engagement with a slash from left. Parried. Mallo counterattacked with an uppercut from right. Deflected. Racitro charged on the right foot, but slipped on the sandy ground. The counterattacking slash from right met only Mallo's sword point. Mallo dealt a downcut from left, but it fell short. Racitro desisted. He drew three steps back and started back moving rightward in quartata. Racitro grinded his teeth, trying to repress the pain caused by the unceasing twinges in the pelvis.

If he thought I had a restricted mobility, now he has confirmation. No doubts he'll take advantage of it in the next engagement.

Mallo took his faultless fencing stance. His shoulders well positioned and calm, as he wasn't breathless at all.

It's going to be a very long duel. No harm done. I practiced to the point of exhaustion and I can keep the shield in fencing stance for the three consecutive hours.

Mallo's downcut fell short and hit the ground. Racitro advanced and charged a slash from right. Mallo's sword lifted from the ground with disarming rapidity. Racitro withdrew his left leg. The shield absorbed Mallo's uppercut.

Phew...He has missed my greave for a hair's breath.

Mallo hid his steps behind the cloud of dust he had raised. Racitro deflected Mallo's downcut from right. Mallo persisted with a slash from left. Racitro interposed his shield. Racitro moved rightward in quartata and drew two steps out of Mallo's sword range.

Racitro dealt a slash from right to gain ground. Mallo parried. Racitro dealt an uppercut from left. Mallo deflected. The subsequent downcut clattered on Mallo's shield as it was beating on the horseshoe drawn on it. Racitro moved leftward. He looked for an opening Mallo didn't want to give him. Mallo feinted for a slash from right and dealt a powerful downcut from left. Racitro parried with the shield. He felt a twinge in the shoulder. He desisted and withdrew. He panted and moved away from that air so thick of dust which had made his black eye water.

Racitro could see out of the left eye only. He approached Mallo, feinted for a downcut and dealt a slash from left. Mallo parried. Racitro drew two steps back. After feinting for a slash from right, Mallo feinted for a slash from left, too. Then, he tried an uppercut from right aimed at Racitro's left leg. Racitro swerved and withdrew.

For Eristoph's sake. He has just found the opening he so long had been looking for in my fencing stance. After a pair of feints, my left leg is undefended. Dang. It's easier to find a golden apples tree than an opening in his fencing stance.

Racitro lifted the shield despite the light, but persistent, twinges in the shoulder. Racitro moved towards Mallo with two steps leftward and dealt a downcut from right. Mallo deflected it and crashed a slash from left between the lion jaws. Racitro drew two steps back. Mallo got two steps closer. Both dealt a slash from right. The swords clashed. Mallo got closer. Way too close. They came into contact.

The punch.

Racitro snuck off two steps and withdrew his sword. Racitro peeked at Mallo's eyes. He found disappointment and surprise, as the rival's left fist was still stretched in mid-air.

I know you, Mallo.

Racitro deflected a downcut from left and counterattacked with one from right. Mallo deflected, but the vigor of the blow bent Mallo's wrists to the point that he almost lost his balance. Racitro raised the sword, dealing an uppercut from left. The blow brushed by Mallo's gorget, but didn't bite the steel. Racitro was forced to defend against two quick consecutive slashes. Racitro drew two steps back. Mallo got closer, quicker. Racitro interposed his shield against the rival's downcut. Racitro's shield lowered of three Inches; for that single moment, Racitro lost strength in the left arm. He lifted the shield. Mallo's sword broke through and hit between pauldron and plackart. Instinctively, Racitro drew two steps back, but his left foot lost grip. He crashed on his back, meat for the grinder for Mallo. Mallo's downcuts rained down on him like a hailstorm. Racitro interposed the shield to defend his belly. The dirt he had raised in the fall whirled before his eyes.

Stand up.

Racitro dug his right elbow in the ground and pushed himself up. He stretched the right leg and hit Mallo's left knee with the steel sabaton. Mallo withdrew. Racitro was on his knees. He tried to stand up. He desisted and parried Mallo's downcut. The sunlight shining on the rival's sword deprived Racitro of the sight. Racitro dealt a pair of lunges in the dark, trying to force Mallo to withdraw. Mallo got closer. He dealt a slash from right first, then a downcut from left, another slash from right and a downcut. The subsequent uppercut from right hit Racitro just over the bent knee and cut off a couple of laces between cuisse and poleyn. Racitro charged with the shield. After such suffering, he stood on his feet. But, as he straightened up, he held the shield too low. Mallo's downcut from right hit on Racitro's upper cannon. It hurt as he was wearing a linen shirt rather than a steel armor. Racitro cried.

Fall back. Fall back.

He drew five steps back before taking a gasp. Where the sword had hit, the pain caused by the blow spread all the way up his arm in a pestering hot flush. A droplet slipped towards his elbow and cooled down in the arm hair.

Wait. It's just sweat.

He took a gasp and shrugged his shoulder to take his fencing stance. But he couldn't raise the left arm. His shield was too low.

And now what? If I can't defend, there's only thing I can do: attack.

Racitro peeked at Mallo's shoulders. They were moving up and down and, just for a few fleeting moments, Racitro could see a breach opening between Mallo's chest and shoulder. Racitro clenched his sword hilt in his fist and moved two steps ahead. He feinted for a slash from right, and a downcut from left. Mallo counterattacked with a slash from right. Racitro parried, ready to aim at that opening on the left shoulder. Mallo interposed his shield against Racitro's downcut from left. Racitro drew back, dodging Mallo's slash from right. Racitro drew two steps back to deflect the subsequent downcut.

Dang. It's a feint.

Mallo lowered a downcut. Racitro twirled. The lion absorbed the blow. Racitro had a blackout for a moment. He felt a twinge in the left shoulder. He recovered the eyesight, but Mallo looked blurry. Racitro parried Mallo's uppercut from right. He so did with Mallo's slash from left. He withdrew two steps back and then two more. His right foot wedged in a hole. He lost his balance and fencing stance. A downcut cracked on Racitro's right shoulder. The pauldron steel rumbled, warped by the blow. Racitro crashed on the ground. Nimbuses of dust deprived him of any reference point. Mallo's sword slashed those grainy clouds like the first ray of sunlight after the storm.

It doesn't bring hope, not for me.

The sword penetrated below the cuisse, right where there were the tattered laces.

Racitro saw Mallo withdrawing. Racitro grinded his teeth. He touched his battered knee with his steel covered fingers. He felt a stab and withdrew his hand. His steel glove was as red as a ruby. Some of the laces connecting poleyn and cuisse popped out and crawled like scarlet worms. The laces trapped under the steel plates started itching and torturing him.

No. It can't end like last time.

Racitro wheezed lying on his back for a few moments. The sweat trickled in his eyes. A taste of iron spread in his mouth. He spat. He was overcome by nausea. He tried to arch his back, but he couldn't.

Mallo kept on walking around him, arrogant eyes fervently waiting for Racitro to surrender.

He knows I didn't stand up last time. But I must do it. Before my mother meddles in. Or my brother does.

He fought against himself to raise the head from the ground. He fell again. His limbs started trembling. He had a blackout and the only thing he could perceive was silence.

"Who'll get the fief of Rigas Mausir when we grow up?" An inevitable question from Espio, eleven years old at the time, to their mother after every single trip away from the capital. "Who'll get the town? And the most fresh fish, the commercial caravels and the war dromons?"

"You'll get them, Espio", she said. "You're the heir to the throne. You'll get all the lands your father owns."

"And what about me?" Racitro said. "Can I get at least a town? Can I get this town?"

"A Kingdom can't be portioned", the father admonished Racitro. "A Kingdom can't last long if there are divergences within it. There can only be one King ruling over every plot of cultivable land", the father's cold hand patted on Racitro's shoulder. "Only with your joint efforts, our ancient family will keep on flourishing."

"And what about the sea, then?" Racitro freed himself from his father's hold and lifted up on the terrace parapet facing the foaming waves. "Can I get the sea? It's not part of our Kingdom. That's it. I'll conquer and rule over the sea."

"The sea isn't something you can rule over permanently", his father said. "Eristoph entitled us to rule only over His body."

"I don't care", Racitro said. "When I grow up, I'll be crowned King of the sea."

"You won't be a King of any sort", Espio tugged Racitro by the sleeve. "I'll be the only King. Whatever our family owns will be mine. I'll conquer the sea when this port and these caravels are mine."

The clear sky and the crowded bleachers popped up before Racitro's eyes.

The Arena is the only Kingdom you'll never be able to take away from me. Unless, you take the battle field against me.

Racitro patted on his armet with the left hand and got inebriated by the scent of blood.

I'm fighting for the Arena. To have a Kingdom to rule over. To make my glory resound over the ages.

Racitro arched his back and tucked his knees. He dug his feet in the ground and pushed himself up with the elbows.

"Give it up, fop", Mallo said.

"Give it up", rang in Racitro's ears, but it sounded as Espio had said it.

No other outcome would delight you the most, right, brother?

Racitro raised shield and sword. He got on his knees. He charged on the left leg and stood up, in right fencing stance. Mallo mumbled. He took the fencing stance.

Racitro started moving leftward in quartata. He did it on purpose, to evaluate what his right leg could allow him to do.

I can do it.

Racitro moved two steps ahead and dealt a downcut. Mallo tried to deflect it, but his wrist bent backward. Mallo drew two steps back. Racitro got closer and assaulted with a slash from right, followed by an uppercut from left and a downcut from right. Mallo parried all of them, but his wrist bent each time under Racitro's blows. After feinting for a slash from left, Racitro hit Mallo's left knee with an uppercut from right. Mallo drew three steps back. Mallo's cuisse was marked by an almost imperceptible warp where Racitro had hit him.

"Give it up", Espio said.

Racitro charged on the left foot. He feinted for a slash from left. Then, he lowered a downcut. Mallo interposed the shield. Racitro deflected a counterattacking downcut from right. Then, Mallo dealt a series of slashes. Racitro drew half step at a time, to keep his rival in very close contact, so that Mallo couldn't give strength to his blows.

"Give it up", Espio said.

Racitro halted and drove Mallo back with a slash from right and a downcut from left. Mallo withdrew another step, his shoulder were swinging.

There's the opening.

Racitro dealt a downcut from right aiming at Mallo's left armpit. He hit straight in the plackart and the rival's shield lowered suddenly towards the ground. Mallo held it in mid-air. Racitro tried a downcut from left. Mallo deflected and lifted his shield, uncovering the advanced leg. Racitro dealt an uppercut from right straight to Mallo's leg. Mallo parried with the sword.

"Give it up", Espio said.

Racitro raised an uppercut which lifted Mallo's shield as it had been held by a puppet.

Now.

Racitro's uppercut from right crashed between cuisse and poleyn in that same spot where Racitro had warped the armor plate. Mallo fell on his knee, sword and shield dug in the ground, supporting his weight. A tiny puddle of blood moistened the ground around Mallo's knee.

Now you're in worse shape than I am. "I allow you to stand up. So that we'll be even", Racitro said.

Mallo sneered. "We've never been even", he spat before Racitro's feet. "That's what I think about your fake worries."

Racitro looked at him as he tried to stand up. Mallo took an awkward fencing stance. Racitro assaulted with a downcut. Mallo's shield lifted up in an unhoped jerk.

"Give it up", Espio said. "This Kingdom will be mine as well."

"Never", Racitro said.

Racitro tried a downcut from left, forcing his way towards Mallo's belly and legs. Racitro kicked Mallo on the thigh. The rival's right knee bent. Mallo crashed to the ground, his shield lying over his plackart and gorget. Mallo was wheezing, telling eyes beyond the ventail. Mallo twirled his sword in the air casting spirals of light all around. Racitro twirled his sword and snatched the sword out of Mallo's hand. The sword bounced five Steps farther.

Racitro treaded on the rival's right wrist with the left foot. Mallo crawled like a snake on the verge of being beheaded. Racitro guillotined Mallo's arm just below the elbow. Mallo roared, his ulna broken.

That's what sends me into raptures.

Racitro gazed at his rival's eyes. Under those, almost shut, eyelids two weak evasive pupils shone like setting stars.

"Do you surrender?" Racitro patted his sword point against Mallo's gorget.

"You're never gonna get me to surrender", Mallo said. He thrust his shield and hit Racitro right in the wound below the cuisse.

Racitro limped backwards. Mallo freed his wrist.

That was smart of you. Curse you.

Mallo rolled over in the dust. Racitro lowered his sword on Mallo's right shoulder. The humerus crackled as the sword clangored on the pauldron. Mallo cried.

Racitro gave Mallo a break. Mallo wheezed like a wild animal fallen into a trap which fights for its life. Mallo laid a hand on his stomach, as if nausea was depriving him of his vigor.

"Do you surrender?" Racitro pattered.

"Never."

We're two of a kind.

Racitro grabbed Mallo's left hand and moved it away from the rival's right shoulder. He smashed on the fracture with the sword pommel. Mallo cried. "May Eristoph turn you to dust."

Deep wrinkles furrowed Mallo's face. Racitro hammered again and again at both fractures. After six cries, Mallo's suffering ended.

The horn sounded sweet music. The portcullis rattled in the runners. The crowd pattered on the bleachers. Rejoicing chants spread through a wind thick of dust interspersed with blood. "Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

Racitro fell on his knees.

That's how a King should be acclaimed, brother.

Racitro slipped off his armet and flung it on the ground. He looked at the royal dais. At his brother. Espio swayed his buttocks on his throne feather pillow which must have become as comfortable as sitting on a porcupine. The harshness carved Espio's features, making his face the most impressive masterpiece Eristoph had ever made, even more impressive than Racitro could have carved with his sword himself.

My dear brother, thanks to your birthright, you've obliged me to prostrate myself before you during your coronation. Now, thanks to my obduracy, you have to glorify me as the King of the Arena.

Espio waited motionless, unaware that he was prolonging Racitro's rapture.

Espio stood up. Keeping his head bowed, he walked towards the horn at a recalcitrant pace. He raised his hands and asked the excited audience to be quiet.

"Worthy gentlemen who fought and honored me and my people", Espio took a break to swallow that hard lump. "Gentle audience here comes to witness the legend. Please, extend your praise to the new Champion of the Arena. Racitro Cilantes. My brother."

Racitro raised both fists to the sky and his victory cry flew even higher. It seemed Espio didn't appreciate. He ran away as fast as a lightning.

There's a new King, brother. And it's not you.

### Chapter 4 - Espio

Espio raised his head from the chessboard and leaned against the back of the seat. He kept on staring at the stock-still pieces, which had been placed by master Tobiarte's skilled hands in the same position preceding Espio's wrong move. The master had taken his leave a few minutes before, but his words had not.

"Now you know your mistake. But, in view of our next game, you should think about the best continuation for today's game."

Espio seized the white knight in f3, the one he had moved in e5 to threaten the black light square bishop in d7 during the game. He let go the knight, grabbed the light square bishop and moved it from d3 to b5. Then, he observed the positioning of the black pieces.

Someone knocked on the door with a soft pat which sounded like a repressed cough. Uncle Livinio announced himself and Espio agreed to let his father's little brother come in the study. Uncle Livinio walked through the study, making his long pea-green yellow hemmed tunic flap in order to flaunt it. Nonetheless, the tunic sleeves were dancing like flaccid skin on the uncle's scrawny arms. He walked at a placid, but firm, pace, well concealing the fifty-seven years he had seen. With even less hesitation, he sat on the chair holding his tunic edges with the finesse befitting a noblewoman.

The uncle's brown eyes rolled towards the chessboard. "Rumianic Chess..." He shook his head and smirked. "Are you playing with white?"

Espio nodded.

"There's no reason to continue this game. If I move the black queen in a5, your king is in check and I'll take your badly positioned bishop in b5 at the next move."

I don't know how I missed it. "Well, I was still thinking about it."

"I'm afraid but you have to put your game review off until later. Your brother is treading the battle field within a few minutes. And, as is his wont, I'm sure he will put on one of his monumental performances which, certainly, will satisfy your delight."

Espio puffed. He stretched his hands on the white knight and bishop and put them back in the box. "I can't believe that, despite being a King, it's not within my power to skip such agony."

"Agony?" his uncle goggled; then, he sneered.

"As King, should I give my brother the chance to mock me once again?"

"Come on, Espio. I know that you spend most of your time hostilely pondering on how to overthrow Racitro from the pedestal he has placed his throne on. A throne from which, I'm sorry to say it, he seems to achieve much more popularity than you."

"Don't you think you're going too far? It's nothing more than a show, after all."

"I reported you just what someone else had whispered to my ear."

"These talks are just as puerile as the filthy dives of the suburbs, haunted by peasants, where they have arisen. I didn't think you were accustomed to haunt them."

"Far be it from me to haunt them, actually. The whispers which so accidentally have reached my ears had arisen inside these castle walls. Don't hold it against me, Espio. But your brother has been the Champion for four, eight and twenty two and he has racked up such a number of victories that we've been forced to add a bar to our abacuses."

"Now, I think you see why I don't like to talk about my brother", Espio said. "Nonetheless, Rumianic Chess is an inexhaustible source of tribulation for me as well and challenging master Tobiarte is even worse. You're an advanced player, uncle. Would you kindly give me some advices so that I could, at least, make my next game with master Tobiarte a little tougher for him?"

His uncle's eyes brightened. "If it's your intention to put master Tobiarte under pressure, I suggest you to challenge him to a different Rumianic Chess variant which is in great vogue at Mellrose. I'm talking about the wizards' variant."

"I don't know anything about it, but its name."

"Something you share with master Tobiarte. He's a great analyst of the classic game, but he's completely unfamiliar with this variant which has significant peculiarities. The only great difference, however, are the bishops' abilities. In Mellrose they use special pieces, but it's possible to play this variant even with the classic bishops. What makes them wizards is that your opponent can't take all the pieces which are protected by your wizard."

Espio raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem very enthusiastic. However, think about it. Master Tobiarte will be in pathetic difficulty, if he faces for the first time this new, even though small, issue."

Espio fiddled with the black king.

And what if I challenge Racitro the same way? So far, he has fought only against opponents whose abilities and skills he was well aware of. But how will he act, if he faces someone he has not shared the training with?

"What do you think about changing the format of the event?"

"I'm sorry. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my brother's challenges. You know. Like master Tobiarte, Racitro knows each of his opponents' peculiarities because he has been practicing with them for the whole of his life", Espio banged the black king on the chessboard. "But, what will happen if he's forced to face an opponent of exotic birth?"

The dull sound of the wooden carved piece made the uncle fibrillate on the chair. "That would be a very attractive innovation. But I wonder if that doesn't collide with the age-old tradition of the Arena. We never had a foreign champion. Not only for the inconvenience of having an exotic conqueror in our Arena and to our court, but also because the crown lavishes rich prizes to the champion. And if the people know that their money is used to line the pockets of a vile stranger, they will be more reluctant to pay the duties."

I appreciate too much my proposition to set it aside for the sole purpose of not aggravating the commoners. "Aren't Endhora everflowers those the common young girls use to throw to my brother? Aren't Mellrose's beers those the ever drunk peasants use to swallow in their fetid dives with the money they have gained betting?"

"I well understand what you're talking about. But searching for exotic challengers will demand a further outlay of assets and money. The Rumianic world is big and it won't be easy to convince the potential challengers to come to Ridget and face a very hard battle."

"If the promise of richness and glory is not enough, we'll tempt them by paying their travel expenses. I'll charge Aclezio to send valiant observers in any town."

Espio flicked the black king head, making it crash on the chessboard.

Checkmate, brother.

Surrounded by courtiers and noblewomen, Espio walked along the rumbling aisles, adorned with sculptures immortalizing the champions, leading to the Arena bleachers. Soon, he was going to watch his brother exhibiting for the first time against an exotic challenger.

The trumpets blared as Espio crossed the tunnel gateway. Under the leaden glares of a premature night, the Arena bleachers appeared as dotted as a ladybird due to the many vacant seats.

Eristoph is thirsty. It'll be a toast for the few.

An icy breeze made the hair on Espio's back stand up and spread, in an air thick of humidity, the vapors and the stenches of the slops the indigent commoners were eating. Espio walked through those ill-bred vulgar beings packed like livestock and none of them smiled or give obeisance to him. As Racitro appeared on the battle field, they jumped up and bumped into the guards in their inhuman frenzy. Other commoners pattered on the spot, drummed their hands on their knees and clapped their hands in a thundering applause, making the floor under Espio's boots quake. A couple of vile beings dared advance and howled at the top of their voices the name of Racitro; stunned by the commoners' shouting, some noblewomen were forced to cover their ears.

Espio turned towards the battle field. Your pleasant customs are always delightful, brother.

He stared at Racitro, who was tramping in the middle of the battle field in a coming and going which lifted thick clouds of dust the inclement wind raised to the height of the royal dais. Espio looked at Silvaco, who was guarding the King's right, and glanced at the whip fastened at the guard's belt.

Why have you a whip if you're not able to use it properly? They are kids, but that shouldn't be a problem for you. Is it possible you're too magnanimous? No, it doesn't depend on you, probably. I know Racitro has a nefarious heart. I bet he recruits two different kids each evening to raise the portcullis beforehand taking great care not to inform them about their punishment.

Espio sank into is velvety throne. He observed Racitro, who was still busy picking up everflower garlands along the Arena walls. A young girl threw him a scarlet wrap Racitro used to wipe the sweat away of his forehead.

What can possibly be more squalid for a man of noble birth to wipe his sweat away with the blood spotted wrap of a butcher? How is it possible that you don't understand you're dragging our noble lineage through the mud with your attitude?

Espio turned towards his mother, seated on his left. She grimaced keeping time with Racitro's exhortations to the commoners.

I feel exactly what you feel, mother. Racitro is so eager to mock me that he doesn't realize he is giving the commoners the hope to be considered equal with the royal family. I should probably charge Silvaco to crack his whip on Racitro's own buttocks.

After taking as much time as he was comfortable with, Racitro came before the royal dais. Espio looked away and, perchance, glanced at Aclezio, whose fingers were drumming on his thighs. Aclezio seemed to perceive Espio's glance and turned. "Majesty. Your brother is on the verge of turning around before you. If I were you I'd carefully look at him. I'm sure it'll be the last time you see his buttocks."

After four, nine and twenty two of untold fails, if I were you I wouldn't show such audacity. "Are you persuaded that my brother has not got information about his next opponent?" Espio stroked his chin.

"The selection has been done in the most complete discreetness. And you know Eristoph gave me a good eye."

The blare of trumpets hushed the commoners. The never oiled enough gate started rattling, making Espio shudder. Espio leaned forward on the throne in order to catch sight of the unknown challenger Aclezio took an entire lunarcycle to select at crown's expenses.

If this brute gives me the joy of supplanting my brother, I'll forge a hundred gold coins with his wild snout.

A big man crossed the tunnel gateway, his nose towering even over Racitro's forehead. He rushed towards the starting mark. He didn't bow to anyone and assailed Racitro. The studded club dented the teeth of the lion on Racitro's shield. Racitro drew two steps back due to the rival's unexpected attack.

How about that, brother? Don't you enjoy when someone else doesn't care less about rules and traditions?

The big man dodged Racitro's cutting blow and parried the successive attack by means of the shield. The club twirled with such vehemence that it raged a storm. Racitro drew two more steps back and dodged three successive blows. Racitro's sword rumbled like a thunder as it clashed against the falling club. The big man didn't draw even a step back and swayed his, as sturdy as beech trunks, steel covered arms.

Sword and club met in the sky. Racitro's arm bent. Thereupon, the brave champion decided to shrink from the big man's assaults and sheltered five steps farther, where he took a break.

The commoners kept on supporting Racitro with thundering choruses which plagued Espio's eardrums. Espio stroked his chin. The big man proved he can give Racitro a hard time. But, unusually, nobody is supporting him. Why? The commoners can't know he is a foreigner.

Espio's mother whimpered. Racitro was swaying his buttocks before the big man's wild snout.

Espio coughed and started beating on his chest due to the wine which had gone down the wrong pipe. He laid the goblet on the throne arm and beckoned the cupbearer to wait.

Is that all, Eristoph? You deceived me into believing we would have drunk from the same goblet, and now you're taking it away from my lips.

The big man drew one step back for the first time under Racitro's blows. The club lowered. It slashed the air, the steel and, perhaps, the bones too.

Espio clenched his right fist and pumped it in the air. He has opened wide the lion jaws and has uprooted its teeth.

Racitro ran three steps back. He almost fell on his knees. Then, he tinkered with the shield straps. What was left of the shield crashed to the ground. Racitro went on shaking his forearm during his entire flight.

It hurts. I'll increase the big man's emolument by a couple of gold coins.

The big man got closer, but Racitro ran away, as swift as a rabbit, twenty steps out of the club range. The big man waddled as he followed Racitro. His left foot shuffling made the hair on Espio's back stand up.

I fear Racitro didn't miss it.

Racitro turned around to close the distance with the big man. He swerved towards the giant's right side. The club whirled aimlessly. Racitro's sword clanked on the big man's steel covered arm in a flurry of sparks. The club lowered towards Racitro who dodged it with two swift steps back.

A thunder echoed. Espio raised his head.

That has come from the sky.

The rain started pelting down over the Arena and separated the two contenders. In a great hurry, the servants put up a gazebo to cover Espio and the courtiers. The boors didn't leave the bleachers despite the rain was soaking their hair and impregnating their woolen, heavy and malodorous coats.

Heedless of the rain, Racitro dealt a blow from right. The big man parried with the club, far slower than Racitro's deft movements. He hobbled many and many times in the small puddles and raised surges of filthy water.

Racitro raised his sword. He dealt a blow from left, one from above, and one last from right which banged straight into the big man's undefended forearm. The deafening rumble of a thunder hushed the thud of the club in the mud. The big man bent forward and fell on his knees before Racitro. He showed no sign that he could get up again. Racitro lifted his armet ventail.

If you give up, you'll get Silvaco's whip as your only reward.

Racitro kicked the big man in the armet, perhaps irritated by a refusal. Then, he snuck up behind the big man and lowered his blade on the giant's knee. A thunder hushed the big man's cry of pain.

Espio's head flopped.

He won't get up even if I make him smell a hundred gold coins.

The courtiers were way too worried not to get soaked when the horn sounded and called their attention back. The gazebo over Espio's head flapped. A gush of water poured out just before the King's feet. The spurts didn't smirch Espio's precious suits by a hair's breadth.

Espio examined the commoners. They stayed still, bloodthirsty enough to be willing to macerate on the cold and wet Arena bleachers.

"What are you going to do, Majesty?" Celete's hoarse voice in the wind.

I don't know why you always ask me what I'm going to do. Whatever my decision may be, Racitro will do the exact opposite just to stand out once again as a rebel before the commoners.

Espio folded his arms and sank his buttocks even deeper in the comfortable cushion. The commoners clamored. Espio didn't deem those shabby beings worthy of a glance. He stroked his chin just to emphasize his rock-like irresoluteness.

After some priceless moments, Racitro advanced in the darkness and came before the royal dais. He flung the armet in the mud and opened his arms in an annoyed exasperation. Espio looked around. His uncle approved with a smirk. His mother seemed less accommodating and sulked. Espio turned towards his brother, whose eyes were still waiting for a decision.

Looks like I've got your attention, brother.

Racitro shouted. The whirling of wind and water dampened those words before they could bother Espio. Espio leaned forward, cupped his hand before his right ear and, with diligence, patted his forefinger on his earlobe to indicate to his brother he had not heard. Racitro flung his sword in the mud.

My dear Racitro, did you finally understand who is the King among us? I decide who plays what part in this staging.

Espio raised his buttocks from the comfort of the cushion. He placed his right hand on his nape and stretched as if he has just woken up from a long sleep. He stretched the left hand straight ahead. The commoners sighed. Espio raised his right hand to the sky.

The big man has disappointed me, but, perhaps, I should be merciful.

Espio lowered his right hand and passed it over the left one. A heinous Racitro gazed at Espio with a pleased and bloodthirsty smirk. Racitro ran towards the big man and kicked him in the head. The giant wallowed in the mud like a suckling in the cradle. Then, he hid his arms under his massive body in order to rescue his wrist from Racitro.

How does he know Racitro is on the verge of cutting his wrist?

Espio turned towards Aclezio, who pretended dismay and turned around, perhaps not to witness Racitro's immoderate barbarity.

The gleams of the bonfires in the battle field got dimmer and dimmer under the incessant rain and increased Racitro's exhibitionistic libido. Racitro picked up the club and crashed it on the defenseless rival's head, not once, but twice. The poor man laid on the ground, his face sunk in the mud. Racitro seized the giant's right wrist, slipped the iron glove off of the giant's hand and crackled the fleshy fingers of his rival under the sabaton.

Why are you devoting him so many attentions, brother? If you want to disobey, do not spend so much time torturing him.

Racitro raised his sword to the sky and lowered it on the giant's wrist like a sentence. The rumbling of a thunder pierced the night, making the entire Arena shake. The big man swung his stump regurgitating blood before his hand lying motionless in the slime.

Espio retreated and fell down on the throne. Lady Tella flopped to the ground.

Mum...

Espio turned towards his mother, who, proving her wit, had covered her eyes not to witness that senseless cruelty. Nonetheless, she was trembling. Espio hugged her. The commoners shrieked. The children started crying tears the rain washed away.

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Death to the foreigner. Death to the foreigner. Death to the foreigner", men and women with cast iron stomachs shouted.

The herald didn't introduce him as a foreigner. How do they know it?

Espio looked around. He saw vile individuals everywhere, busy howling with joy as they were dancing on the bleachers. Espio gazed at his brother. His shimmering armor gleamed among the bonfires as Racitro came before the royal dais.

Why is he bringing the cut hand with him?

Racitro tinkered with the hand and with his own iron glove. He rummaged in the space between glove and forearm protection. He extracted something which emitted a swift glare the darkness devoured just a moment after. Whatever it was, Racitro put it in the big man's palm and clenched the fingers. Racitro twirled his arm from behind his head. The hand rose over Espio's eyes and fell lifeless before the King's feet.

That was a slap.

Espio drew apart from his mother's hug and stared at the hand. The little amount of blood still trapped in the veins poured out from the cut edge as the hand had regurgitated it. A servant kneeled down to pick it up.

Something is shining in that hand.

"Stand back", Espio stretched his hand towards him and the servant desisted. Espio got closer to the hand and shook the weak fingers with the boot point, trying to open them. Espio found a gold coin. He bit his lower lip.

Racitro has known it all along. He has known his contender was a foreigner on my payroll even before the battle got started. Who, among the snakes who surround me, told him with its forked tongue?

Espio clenched his fists.

I know it was one of you. Enjoy your small satisfaction. You showed me how toxic your poison can be. You'll discover how deep my teeth can penetrate in your throat.

Espio summoned Aclezio. The advisor came before Espio all dressed up to the nines and flaunted his brand new suit adorned with sequins on the sleeves.

"The reason why I summoned you so urgently is that I'd like to personally choose tonight's challenger for my brother", Espio said.

"Beautiful, Majesty. I'm sure your wisdom will guide your hand. I'll immediately summon a swarm of possible challengers", Aclezio turned around.

"I'm not going to decide here and now", Aclezio turned with disarming slowness. "I'll wait till the last moment, if necessary."

Aclezio got closer. "Majesty, if you allow me to object, I don't think that would be a wise idea. The foreign challengers are aware that your brother is able to literally massacre them. In which conditions do you think they'll come before Racitro if forced to chafe at the bit waiting for your decision? They'll have no time to warm up and be mentally prepared."

"Well, in case someone gets cold feet, you'll send him back to his hometown, sad and without my emoluments. I'll double the reward of those who stay."

"In that instance, I don't think there'll be defections, Majesty. Come down whenever you want."

As the locker room opened, a gust of sweat and unrepressed flatulencies blew on Espio's face. Espio came in, but stopped twenty Steps away from that band of brutes packed on the benches with the grace befitting the oxen inside a cattleshed. Nonetheless, the brutes stood up and got closer without clarifying their ambiguous intentions.

"Let them wait right where they're", Espio held his nose. Aclezio was forced to raise his hands to convince the brutes not to get much closer. Espio rolled his eyes to the ceiling and avoided to glance back at those savages, whose faces were furrowed by scars, mud and, Eristoph only knows, what kind of other filth. Espio started gazing at their hands, the ones they used to brandish the best-loved weapon.

I fear I'll see again one of this.

Espio pointed his fingers towards a big man, but didn't rub the brute's face in his mind and, without waiting to know the brute's name, he walked across the door and up the stairs.

At the end of the umpteenth slap from his brother, Espio came in his study and found an eight-years-old boy with chestnut hair dressing miserable and creased clothes. Some soil was heaped under the boy's pattering feet dirtying the stone floor.

The boy advanced just one step. He stretched out a piece of crumpled parchment he was keeping in the right hand. Espio grabbed it. Among the many wrinkles Espio sensed a thin layer of sweat, by then almost imperceptible, permeating the parchment surface.

Were you so nervous your palms sweated, brother?

Espio deployed the parchment and read its content.

'He uses to deal blows from above. His eyes rarely gaze at the opponent's feet. His fencing stance shows many flaws when he's attacked on left after a swift blow or a feint to the right.'

"Where did you find it?" Espio looked for the boy's shy eyes staring at the King's feet.

"Majesty", he made an awkward bow and kept his head bent. "It was in the Champion's locker room. Under a towel. On the ground."

"You've been skillful", Espio kneeled down before the boy. He took the boy's chin, forcing him to straighten up. The boy's eyes languished. Espio seized the boy's right hand, but he got horrified when he perceived the unpleasant slime on the boy's palm. Espio withdrew his hand, but, at the same time, laid five gold coins in the boy's palm.

Espio smiled at him. "Get back home. Buy something nice for you and mum."

"Yes, Majesty", Espio appreciated both his awkward bow and the greed the boy clenched his fist around the coins with.

The boy put the coins in the right pocket of his off-white cloth trousers, which started falling rightward under the weight of the ten gold coins the boy had received as emolument for his services.

You'll turn out to be useful when you're older...and more scented.

Espio sat by candlelight and leafed through some letters written in their own hand by the advisors and by those few trainers who learnt the, intricate for them, art of writing. He examined the handwriting on the parchment; it was way too refined for the boorish hands of a trainer.

He discarded Celete. The stroke of the goose quill on the indicted parchment was way too smooth for him.

The elder has a trembling handwriting, to say the least.

The multi-year application in drawing up manuscripts had given master Tobiarte a graceful, but at the same time, very compressed handwriting, as he was worried to waste too much parchment. Espio discarded him.

He examined a letter written by his uncle and discovered that the m's were indistinguishable from the n's, and so was for the a's and e's.

He passed to Aclezio's letter.

Betrayed by his distinctive dots on the i's.

Espio sneered. Eristoph gave him an eye able to recognize talent, but even a treacherous hand. Who knows, if those eyes are really so talented, perhaps they will turn out to be useful.

The successive shining morning, Espio came in his study and found what he had asked Silvaco to deliver him. Inside a glass reliquary, lying on the table, there were Aclezio's milky eyeballs.

### Chapter 5 - Racitro

Racitro turned on his heels and started walking parallel to the iron portcullis. His sheathed sword kept on wagging as he was walking. He put both his steel covered hands behind his back. He raised his eyes from the soil and glanced at a pair of boys whose hands were lying on the winch handle.

They are aware Espio's gonna have them whipped after the battle. But they have not chickened out.

The boy with chestnut short hair smiled. The other one, with unusual blonde hair, seemed sad and had an absent expression.

He definitely wasn't born on Eristoph's head. Maybe my brother has sent him to accomplish some kind of subterfuge.

The trumpets blared, announcing Espio's entry in the Arena. The boys operated the winch handle. The portcullis spikes started climbing up and didn't screech at all.

Racitro bent and passed under the pointed spikes in order to get in the Arena before Espio could get on the throne. He ran inside the tunnel making his armor metal plates creak and clank.

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

The people stood up and Espio, still halfway from the throne, was devoured by two sides of rejoicing people.

What a pity I can't see your puzzled and irritated face, brother.

Racitro unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards one of the empty pedestals on the top of the cornice overlooking the Arena back row. In the evening amber gleams, Racitro saw his own ronde-bosse bronze statue materialize on that pedestal. An honor he would be entitled to if he defeated his next opponent, being counted among the greatest Champions of all times.

That pedestal is opportunely placed in front of Espio. He knows it and, certainly, he must have spared no effort to avoid paying the penalty of personally commissioning a statue immortalizing my features.

Racitro ran round the battle field walls. He raised his fist and sword to the sky. The people made a very choreographic and unanimous bow which, like a wave, moved along the entire bleachers and foamed against Espio's face.

They're paying homage to their real King, brother.

The wind made petals of scarlet roses, camellias, lilies and everflowers whirl over Racitro's head. They were raining down from an area full of shouting girls who sighed in admiration as Racitro passed. The petals perfumed the air with charming fragrances. A large crowd of girls threw their wraps and trusted them to fate. A more uninhibited girl threw even her underwear.

Exhorted by the girl's moans, Racitro picked up a handful of flowers and started discarding them one-by-one. He kept a lilac everflower and pinned it on his sword belt as talisman.

Once before the royal dais, he faced his brother's stern face. It seemed Espio had restored his spirit by simply sitting on the throne. Racitro turned his back to his brother. He ran towards the middle of the Arena accompanied by a raising of forefingers pointing at Espio and by mocking giggles.

I'm eager to see which kind of vile individual you have filled the pockets of in your vain attempt to stop my ascent.

The trumpets blared and the opposite portcullis started lifting from the ground in a cawing of rusty iron. The portcullis banged against the stop, but nobody came out. The entire battle field fell in a funereal silence. Racitro squinted and peeked under the limestone brick arch and through the darkness permeating the tunnel.

Have you chosen a shy one, brother? Or, perhaps, a coward who pocketed your emolument and went into hiding?

Racitro turned towards his brother, who didn't bat an eye. Espio turned on his right and talked with Celete and Merete.

The crowd sighed. Racitro turned towards the tunnel. A warrior came along at a slow pace. He flaunted his silvery and unscarred armor, which must not have seen so many combats.

Do you want me to think that you've found someone who is so valiant that his armor has not been scarred by someone else's sword?

The opponent stayed still. His armet ventail was lowered, covering his eyes. He didn't bow to anyone. Nonetheless, he put his right hand on the sword hilt. He unsheathed the sword and held it with one hand, guard aligned with the first forefinger phalanx.

Casl? No, it can't be Casl. He is holding a high graded sword, and that armor is way too expensive for him.

The man turned towards the bleachers and started walking along them with a slow pace marked by tremors. Racitro moved a step towards the man. But a cramp in the right calf made him desist.

Casl, I always thought of you as my real brother and this is how you repay me? Did you really surrender to the money my more treacherous brother had offered you?

Casl headed towards the royal dais, prancing and swaying his clinking pauldrons, as if he didn't care at all. Once before the royal dais, Casl raised his head towards Espio.

And now what? Aren't you going to bow before Espio? Don't you dare.

Racitro's cramp resolved and, by means of rumbling steps, he strode towards Casl.

The crowd sighed. Casl didn't turn around, not even when Racitro got less than twenty Steps away from him.

You may not have the guts to look in my eyes, but, under that armet, you can't plug your ears.

"You", Racitro halted ten Steps away from Casl. He raised his sword as he was prolonging his forefinger. "Traitor."

Casl's feet stopped. His arms flopped on his sides. It seemed he was looking at the ground. He stayed right where he was, stock-still in that last pose. The people's fervor extinguished in a questioning sigh. Casl turned his head towards Racitro, a movement which seemed as long as a winter night. A breath of wind blew between them and raised a gust of dust. Racitro's right arm flopped on his side. His sword dug a shallow furrow in the ground.

That's not a traitor's attitude. It's a hangdog's attitude.

Casl raised the ventail. Racitro saw his friend's languid eyes and dilated pupils. Racitro's left arm flopped on his side. "You're not facing me for money."

Casl raised his chin just enough to swallow. "No."

Casl looked away and, for a short moment, he looked at the royal dais. "How did he bully you into this?"

"I can't tell you. Or-", he swallowed his tongue.

My brother has not paid you. He has threatened your family.

Racitro grinded his teeth. He felt overwhelmed by the weight of the armor. "Damonte or Caria?"

Casl raised his head, his eyes recovered vitality. He was on the verge of a cleansing cry. Racitro nodded, but Casl choked back his tears. "Damonte...and Caria...and Salira."

All. Espio has taken them all. "Do you know where he's keeping them prisoners?"

Casl didn't answer. His eyes got colder and he contemplated the walls.

Racitro clenched his fingers around the sword hilt. "I'll find them. And I'll release them."

Racitro turned his back to Casl. He glanced up at the royal dais.

I'm coming, brother. I'm going to force you to confess your cruelty before the entire people.

Racitro moved a step forward.

"No", Casl said.

Racitro turned around.

"You can't do it. I have to fight with you. I have to fight or your brother will kill them all before my eyes. And you...you have to kill me. Kill me, or he'll kill them."

Curse you, Espio. Racitro clenched his fists and panted.

No. He knows I won't do it. This is his sordid plan. He wants me to give up and to personally deprive me of the crown.

Racitro barely held the sword in his hand. He shut his eyes and bent his head. He was on the verge of falling on his knees.

I can't do it. I can't kill Casl.

Racitro's heart skipped a beat. His hold on the sword grew weak, weaker, ephemeral. He breathed in.

I'm sorry to admit it, but Espio has won.

The sword was slipping out of Racitro's hand when Casl shouted. "We have to fight."

Racitro shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

Casl cut the air with a slash from left. "You can't give up. Your brother can't have the better of you. If you behave like this, you don't bring honor either to me, your opponent, or to this Arena. So, let's fight and kill me."

"You should not be saying it that easily. Clearly, my brother has tainted your mind. I'll never kill you and will never point my sword towards you knowing that your family is in peril. Think about it. Once you're dead, there's no guarantee my brother won't carry out his threats anyway."

"I only know your brother always keeps his word. And if you don't want to fight, I'll force you to do it."

Casl sprinted forward. He held his shield low, but raised his sword radiating flashes of threat. Racitro dodged the first downcut with two swift steps backwards. Then, he made a step towards left to dodge an uppercut from left. Casl didn't defend his body and dealt a slash from right.

Casl wheezed as he dealt the blow. It went wide. Racitro didn't interpose either shield, or sword to the subsequent downcut from left. He dodged another downcut. Casl pirouetted forward and dealt a slash from right. Racitro swerved on left, charged on the right foot, assailed Casl and tripped him by the front foot. Casl crashed in the dust and Racitro drew two steps back.

Casl stood up, overcome by cough. "Let's fight" he roared. "Let's fight or they'll die."

Racitro dodged an uppercut with a single step on left. Casl's subsequent downcut went wide. Racitro kicked forward and hit Casl's right knee. The man fell on his knees before Racitro. Casl shook his bent head keeping pace with his own wheezes. Then, he started crying. Racitro leaned forward and stretched his left palm to Casl. The friend's sword lifted from the ground. It smashed between the lion jaws in a roar of steel. Racitro swerved on the right. He hit Casl with a kick in the chest. Casl fell on his back. Racitro blocked Casl's right wrist under his foot, putting an end to the sword swinging.

"Let's end it", it was not until Racitro told it that he noticed he had uttered those few words in a whisper.

"I can't give up", Casl said amid one hiccough and the other. "Finish me off. If I can't defeat you, and we both know I can't, you must kill me and save my family. But promise that you'll take care of them. Promise."

Racitro leaned forward. He seized Casl's armet with both hands and locked eyes with Casl. "There's only one promise I can make you. I promise that you'll spend your night at home, in your nuptial bed, along with your beloved Salira after having tucked Damonte and Caria in."

My brother is the one who will suffocate in his own blood.

Racitro let go Casl's armet, but not his wrist. Casl wriggled out of Racitro's foot and stood up. He twirled the sword among the lion jaws in a twist of sparks. Casl hit with a downcut from right, a second one, a third one and a fourth one, as he was trying to spur Racitro to react.

Racitro moved a single step on his right. Out of balance and without any opposition, Casl tumbled in the dust.

Racitro waited staring him as he stood up. Casl assaulted with a downcut from left, but stumbled once again on the ground. He cried. Louder than his sword had thundered.

The people booed in disappointment. Racitro turned towards the bleachers.

They're turning their backs on me. That's what Espio wanted.

Casl dealt a downcut from right. Racitro deflected. The screeching of the crossing steels was drowned out by the people excited shouts. Racitro grasped Casl. They were face to face, sword against sword. Racitro hesitated. Casl's eyes got the lost determination back. Casl wriggled out of Racitro's hold. Racitro drew two steps back to dodge a slash from left. Casl dealt a downcut from right, Racitro swerved leftwards. He found Casl's back undefended. Instinctively, Racitro dealt a blow, but held it back at the last. The sword scratched the back of the plackart, clinking like a coin fallen on the ground.

Casl casted on Racitro a disgusted glance. "That's why your brother sits on the throne. It's not a matter of age."

Racitro's blood started boiling. He tightened his sword hilt. But, then, he shook his head.

No. What Casl wants is to provoke me. I'm sure he doesn't mean it.

Casl dealt a slash from right, then one from left, then another one from right. Racitro parried the last one and smashed a downcut from left on Casl's pauldron. Casl drew three steps back, holding his left shoulder with the hand he was holding the sword with.

Racitro lowered his sword.

No. Why did I do it?

Overcome by wheezes, Casl raised his head. "You're a worse coward than your brother."

Racitro bit his lower lip. He stiffened the right wrist. He lowered a downcut on Casl's sword. The two swords vibrated one on the other. Casl's sword fell in the dust. Casl's defense was open. Racitro charged forward for a lunge.

No. Wait.

At the last, Racitro deflected his own blow towards the shield Casl was holding down. But Casl got it out of the way. Out of balance, Racitro couldn't stop his blow and the sword point broke through Casl's inguinal coat of mail.

Racitro's hands trembled tightened around the hilt. He withdrew the sword. The point was stained by rutilant rivulets of blood. Casl collapsed on his knees. Then, on the left side.

No. Casl.

Racitro slipped the armet off Casl's head. Casl was conscious, but his face was wrinkled in pain and he was wheezing. Racitro put a hand on Casl's wound and pressed it to prevent the blood from dripping out. "Somebody help me. Please, help me."

The shout spread amid the silence the Arena had fell in. Racitro's eyes met Casl's agonizing ones. Two rivulets of saliva poured out of Casl's mouth.

It's not blood. Thank Eristoph it's not blood.

The portcullis rattled in the runners, but the barber surgeons didn't come out of the tunnel. Racitro uprooted his shield from his forearm. He wrapped his left arm under Casl's legs and the right one behind his back. The muscle of Racitro's back burnt as he lifted his friend up with all the armor. Racitro grinded his teeth and lifted.

He ran towards the portcullis in a harmonic clinking of steel plates. Facsil and Thea, two trusty members of the training group, came out of the tunnel bathed in darkness.

Thank Eristoph they're here.

They leaded Racitro inside the tunnel and to the first table available. Racitro laid Casl on it. Facsil and Thea asked Racitro to stay away from his friend. Casl's eyes rolled towards Racitro.

"I'm gonna get your family back."

Racitro burst into the training center, uprooting the door higher hinges in his vehemence. He was welcomed by worried glances and nobody said a word. He passed by and reached a sword belt hanged at the wall. He fastened the sword belt around the one he was already wearing. He strode towards the opposite exit. He pulled the sword just one Inch out of the sheathe.

Sharp enough for Espio's guts.

He climbed two steps at a time along the staircase leading to the Sapphire Palace and at the seat where, certainly, his brother must have already made himself comfortable.

He chanced upon two Espio's guard dogs standing before the palace entry portal. Silvaco and Graunio, wearing their shimmering steel armors, stepped forward.

"You're not allowed to cross this door", Silvaco held out his left hand. The right one was still caressing the sword hilt. Graunio pulled his sword two Inches out of the sheathe.

"Get out of my way", Racitro said. But the two stayed still and didn't say a word. Racitro put his right hand on the hilt and pulled the sword out of one Inch. "Don't make me do it."

Graunio looked unsure and moved one step leftwards. On the other hand, Silvaco persisted in respecting Espio's orders and showed off his eyes full of resentment.

He can't wait to maul me. And I can't wait to beat him.

The door locks were unlocked. Silvaco and Graunio looked lost and stunned, but their eyes didn't desist from staring at Racitro. The door was opened of no more than the space needed by the meek Celete to slip through. The elder closed the door with his, more trembling than usual, hands. He ordered to lock the door locks.

"Are you looking for some troubles?" Racitro said.

"I came to spare you them", Celete said.

Racitro panted and tightened his hilt among his fingers.

"What's your plan, Prince? Don't you want to come before your beloved King? You know better than me that such action will charge you of betrayal."

"It's clear that a slap, even though well smacked on his cheek, is not enough to straighten him out. You've been by his side for so long, so tell me: what was going through his mind? Have you been informed about Casl's conditions? He could die."

"That's right, Prince. Your friend comes first. It's not time you ask amends to your brother. You've certainly misinterpreted the reason why I came down here with such urgency. I know where your friend's relatives had been jailed. Follow me. Release and lead them to him. Soothe your thirst for revenge in the light warmth of some sweet tears of joy. Allow them to say him goodbye in case Eristoph will call him back, or to fight beside him if there's still any chance."

Racitro let go the sword in the sheathe. His arm started tingling. A deep gasp swept his rage away.

The elder ordered to unlock the door locks. Silvaco and Graunio stepped aside, fulfilling Celete's request with much more deference they had addressed Racitro with.

Racitro followed the way too phlegmatic Celete. The elder swayed his hips and wheezed like he was sparing no effort. He entered a staircase leading to the southern wing dungeons.

That's where they are.

Racitro rushed down the steep steps, leaving Celete behind. The air was thick of an oppressing humidity and of the unmistakable stench of excrements.

Down the stairs, there was just one man guarding the door. The guard's mouth and nose were masked behind a handkerchief. As he was still rushing down the last step, Racitro gave the guard a dirty look which urged the man to unlock the door. The guard entered first and took up a torch. The cells' bars emitted gloomy shines accompanied by rustles. A small face framed by long raven-black hair crossed between two adjacent bars. The flame brought a twinkle to her eyes.

Caria.

"Mum. Mum", the innocent and melodic Caria vanished beyond the bars, pulled by strong arms in a loving gesture. Another small clean face emerged four bars farther.

Damonte smiled.

"Open it", Racitro said.

"Prince?" Salira's adult voice. "Is that really you?"

"Don't worry, Salira. This nightmare is over. I'll lead you to your beloved husband as soon as possible. He...needs your fondness more than ever. The fondness of every one of you."

As the cell door unlocked, Damonte started skipping on the spot and raised his fists to the ceiling as his sister had did. Salira stared back at Racitro. She was pale and questioning. Racitro opened the door. Damonte snuck off and ran towards the exit. Salira ran after him carrying Caria among his arms.

When Racitro was back, Casl was still stretched out on the table surrounded by the barber surgeons, who had removed most part of Casl's armor plates. Facsil put down the needle he had used to stitch up Casl's wound, that same wound Racitro would never, ever forgive himself for.

Forgive me, Casl. I did everything I could to accomplish my promise.

Facsil and Thea bandaged Casl. The man shook his head, making the large sweat stains veiling his forehead shine. His glistening eyes rejoiced when he saw his two children. Damonte stood up on the table between Casl's arm and side. Salira was on Casl's left, carrying Caria with the right arm only. She was hand in hand with her husband. She rubbed her thumb on Casl's hand.

"He'll be fine", Thea cleaned the blood clotted on her hands with a cloth.

"Thanks. To both of you", Racitro patted Facsil on the back.

The wicker chair Celete was sat on to keep guard on Racitro screeched.

Racitro addressed Celete, but kept on gazing at Casl. "We've just ascertained that you can't stay on my heels. I wonder why my brother has sent you. Wouldn't it have been wiser to make me face half of the royal guard?"

The elder's white beard and mustache opened. He let out a sigh. Tired eyelids stared towards Casl. "Your brother is wise. And you are as wise as him, Prince. And judicious, in addition. I doubt you'll meet the King tonight to ask him amends. As you well noted, at this time you could have already done it without devoting me your valuable attention."

Racitro mumbled. Then, he bent his head in a sigh.

"I know you, Prince. The family is as important for you as it is for your brother. Let's wallow in this happy ending."

Racitro's right hand started itching.

My knuckles yearn for contact with my brother's cheeks. Sooner or later, I'll please them.

"I admit your brother didn't act fairly in this dispute. But, after all, that's the game you have forced him to play."

"Me? My brother acts in his own initiative and with the sole purpose of satisfying his own wicked ego."

Celete nodded. "But, tell me. Do you think you're showing respect to your King? He always chose to turn a blind eye to your repeated provocations, but he can't put up with you putting him to shame before the entire people. You must try to take your drives under control. You can't extinguish live coals by stoking up the flames."

I know what you're trying to do. You want me to capitulate before Espio. "Tell it to my brother, too."

"I'll do it with no hesitations. A King always needs some good advices. What I fear the most, however, is that your conflicts will result in bloodshed. Take this night and your friend's conditions as examples. He's lying on that table with a serious wound cause of your quarrel", Celete shook his head. Racitro stared at Celete's spiritless eyes. "I exhort you to think about the innocent people who have been involved in this dispute. And, moreover, to the ones who will be involved if you don't put an end to this dispute before it's too late."

Racitro gazed at Casl and his family. He sighed looking at their smiles.

I wonder if Celete is right.

He looked Celete and it seemed he was snoring.

No. A man without ambition is not a man. If I've learnt something tonight is that my brother can pack me with much more painful punches than those I'll ever be able to pack him by means of my hands only. He's on a predominant position and, as long as I'm alone, I won't get what I yearn for.

### Chapter 6 - Espio

Espio put on a pair of soft deerskin gloves and examined a dirty shred of parchment the guards had delivered him. The parchment was of a very poor quality and was covered with many and many grease stains. It was clearly understandable how sleazy was the dive it had been exhibited in. Drawings and captions had been sketched with a rough and listless handwriting full of grammatical errors and smears.

"Come one. Come all, ladies and gentlemen..." Espio tried getting the triumphalist tone of the caption. "Tonight at the Arena for the great challenge. The Champion and King of The Arena, Racitro, puts his title on the line against his brother, Espio."

If I had not ascertained the meanness of the handwriting, I'd have sworn that Racitro himself had written this parchment.

Espio balled up the parchment, but resisted the urge of tearing it to pieces. "Where did you say you'd found it?"

"One of the guards told me he eyed it perchance at the Spider's Dive", Silvaco said.

"I'm lucky my guards are accustomed to attend that kind of dives down in the unsafe suburbs."

Silvaco smiled, perhaps due to embarrassment. "How do you intend to proceed, Majesty?"

Espio was on the verge of stroking his chin, but the stench given forth by the grease stains on the gloves stopped his gesture.

I should force Racitro to eat, one-by-one, all the fragments of the grime I'm holding in my hands.

"Espio", the uncle said. "If I may, I suggest you to take custody of the dive keeper and jail him for putting about such malicious gossips."

"Prince, there's no guarantee the dive keeper is in some way connected to the person who realized this parchment", Celete took a deep breath, as if that sentence was too long and demanding for him.

"Even if the dive keeper is not the responsible for the making of this parchment, he allowed its exhibition inside one of his dive bulletin boards", the uncle said. "That means he agrees with the ideas reported in the above-mentioned parchment, which have the purpose of offending the King."

"Majesty, don't you want to tell people you devote your time and give credit to such distasteful things?" Celete said. "You'll see. This news will debase with time in that same scum it sprang from."

Is it possible that you two always bicker at each other without getting the heart of the matter?

"Tell me, Silvaco. According to your subordinates, how common is, among the grass roots, this feeling of seeing me take the battle field and fight against my brother?"

Silvaco rolled his eyes to the ceiling, looking for inspiration.

It's very common.

"Don't you want to act on the spur of the moment and take the battle field?" the uncle said.

"You don't have what it takes to do it", Celete said.

"Allow me to set your mind at rest. It's not my intention to go face to face with my brother on the battle field. What I want to know is if that feeling is catching on in my subjects. You know tonight my brother is fighting a new opponent. And it's not my intention to face thirty thousand people asking me to keep faith to the promises reported in the above-mentioned parchment."

"You could issue an edict forbidding the people to mention what is reported in this parchment, failing which thirsty whips", Silvaco's eyes brightened as he said it.

I love your direct methods, Silvaco. What a pity they don't befit a King.

Espio shook his head and had a surge of disgust as he evaluated once again the consistency and soil of the parchment he was still holding in his hands. He threw it on the ground. One of the servants crawled at Espio's feet and picked it up, dirtying his hands.

"What should I do with it?" the servant said.

"Burn it. But not in my study fireplace. Make sure its vapors won't pester my nose."

"We can't whip hundreds of people only because they asked you to take the battle field". Celete said. "The people feel oppressed and such act could cause panic, or worse, uproars. Can you picture the dynamics? The conspiracy of silence is largely diffused among the people of the grass roots. And random punishments could further stir up the feeling of injustice. The Arena could turn in a hornets' nest at any time."

"Well, then, how do you suggest to deal with the most uninhibited hooligans?" the uncle said.

"Not giving them credit at all", Espio slipped off his gloves. He flung them to the servant and commanded him to burn them too. Celete seemed not impressed, a clear sign he was agreeing with Espio. Silvaco bent his head, disappointed. The uncle stared at Espio as he needed a further explanation. "I'm the King. If the King commands, the people do. I think I don't need to remind you that the above-mentioned thought does not apply if the boot is on the other foot. The commoners may exhort me to take the battle field and compete in that dull show, but I can refuse and prove them, as much as..." Racitro, "the next guy, who holds the real power."

"That's smart, Majesty", Celete said. "What a skillful alchemist you're, turning a potential crisis into an opportunity."

"Anyway, that won't help your popularity", the uncle said.

"That's why you two will spend what's left of the afternoon with the treasurer looking for a duty we can eliminate without affecting the royal coffers."

The uncle turned up his nose. Celete looked emotionless. "The therapy of bread, that's a wise decision."

Silvaco pattered in order to draw the bystanders' attention on the itch affecting his hands. "And what about the dive keeper? Don't you intend to take further actions?"

"It's no use jailing him", Espio said. "But he could turn out to be a valuable source of information. I know you'll be persuasive."

Silvaco nodded and held the whip hanged at his sword belt. "I'll gladly do it, Majesty."

"Now, leave me alone, please", Espio tapped his fingers together. "Merete is waiting for me."

Espio lent himself once again to parade in the nobles' cortège heading for the Arena royal dais. He turned towards the commoners and raised his hand in greeting; however, all the eyes were already busy looking Racitro, a peacock showing off his plumage.

At least, none of these bumpkins, whose elbows are always bent, has exhorted me to take the battle field. There's ground for a quiet evening.

Espio laid his buttocks on his throne. Merete, who was in charge of selecting Racitro's opponents, sat on Espio's right.

I still don't know if you're my most trustworthy advisor or my brother's frankest supporter.

"Did you find a way to soothe my anxieties?" Espio said.

"I've more than one reason to believe that you brother will lose tonight", Merete made such a good show of his teeth that Espio noticed how yellowed they were.

I wonder where you find the audacity to come every week telling me the same old spiel with such diligence. "You enjoy keeping me guessing, don't you?"

"Oh, I don't want to interfere with your astonishment, Majesty", Merete passed a piece of parchment to a herald.

"I only hope that this astonishment you're talking about will make me joyful. Do you want me to believe you've found a valiant opponent? Come on. Tell me at least where he comes from."

"I guess Endhora. But I'm not sure. You know, he was part of a travelling show."

The trumpets blared and the portcullis spikes lifted from the ground. Espio drummed his fingers on the throne arms.

A tiny and frail being came out in the enormous Arena battle field from the broad tunnel. She had short arms no longer than grain spikes and as thin as an autumn bare twig.

Scornful roars rose from the bleachers, along with the commoners' forefingers, all pointing at the royal throne.

"What does it mean? That's...a woman."

"There's no fooling you, Majesty."

Your wisecracks could persuade me to be indulgent. But I won't.

Espio raised his left hand. Silvaco and Graunio surrounded the inopportune joker and seized him by the armpits. Merete shrugged his shoulders to release from Silvaco's hold. "Majesty", Merete wasn't showing his teeth anymore. "Allow me to explain."

"You've put me in a fix, Merete. If I take my cue from good Silvaco here, I'll have to cut off forefingers and tongues of all the people who are mocking me right now. But I think it's easier to work off my anger on the responsible of this lift of forefingers."

"It's not what it looks like, Majesty. I acted in good faith according to your instructions."

Espio raised his right hand. Silvaco and Graunio yanked Merete and knocked him over.

"She's a lion tamer", Merete said.

Espio's right hand stopped in mid-air. Silvaco and Graunio grabbed Merete's arms in their vises. Espio beckoned them to wait. He turned towards the battle field, at that bony morsel Merete had persuaded, under Espio's lavish emolument, to leave the real lions for the Cilantes' one. Her short legs were animated by tremors, perhaps caused by standing before that giant Racitro, perhaps by the mocking people. The sword she was brandishing wasn't bigger than a wood carving knife and, nonetheless, she was holding it with both hands.

Racitro turned towards the royal dais. It seemed he was saying something. The surrounding crowd echoed his words. "And who is this? Your cock-sucking cupbearer?"

I only hope that the peasants' malevolent word of mouth has made your question vulgar or you'll have me to answer to for your debauched language.

"Coward. Coward. Coward", the commoners packed under the statue of Racitro started chanting.

Parchments were raised to the sky.

They must be identical to that soiled parchment full of foolishness the guards brought to my attention.

Racitro came before the hooligans' area and someone passed him a parchment. Racitro picked it up from the dust like a boor. Then, he pointed his finger, dirty of mud, towards Espio and beckoned Espio with the hand to take the battle field.

I won't do it, brother.

Espio sighed and sank his buttocks even deeper in the velvety cushions. The boos got more deafening than a hailstorm.

Espio stood up. The commoners exulted.

Do they really think I'm going to fight? They are nothing more than donkeys braying behind the carrot waved before their eyes.

Espio reached the herald horn.

"Silence, please", Espio said.

The people bowed to Espio's will. Only the hooligans holding the parchments persisted in remonstrating.

Espio raised his left hand. Silvaco and Graunio left Merete and, whip in their hands, headed towards the hooligans.

"What's the challenger's name?" Espio whispered to the herald.

"Sebina", the herald said. Then, he withdrew as he was disgusted to be by Espio's side.

Silvaco will make you an enjoyable visit later.

Espio addressed the Arena. "My dear subjects. Is this the respect you pay to the challenger?"

Espio went on despite some unashamed scornful roars. "I know many of you don't know the centuries-old history of the Arena. That's why I want to tell you something about it. The Arena already had a female Champion. Her name was Lanisa. And, if you don't believe me, ask the current Champion. Am I wrong, Racitro?"

Racitro nodded, even though reluctantly.

"I'm your King and the show this Arena offers you every lunarquarter is my gift for you. How could you think that this damsel, who's going to fight Racitro, can't hold a candle to him? Do you really think your King wants to mock you? I assure you that this girl will make you change your mind. So, let the horn sound and the swords cross. My brother, the Cilantes' lion, against Sebina, the lion tamer."

Espio made himself comfortable on the throne. Only a few hooligans went on scoffing him. Merete's eyes begged for mercy. "Majesty, I..."

Espio raised his right hand. "You said you complied with my instructions and I don't need to know anything else before the end of this combat", Espio stared at him. "I count on your self-respect."

The horn sounded, but the swords didn't cross. Sebina took the fencing stance. Racitro didn't. Actually, he seized his groin with the free hand and swayed his hips.

Espio's mother mumbled as she looked at that unrestrained depravity and covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm going to give a good telling-off to your brother."

It's a good thing I'm the rightful heir to the throne. My brother's attitude fits more the one of a butcher. What kind of authority would he ever exert on the subjects? A King must stand out from the rabble, if he wants to bend the commoner's will. What have I just show you, brother?

"Majesty", the loquacious Merete said. "Would you allow me to sing the praises of the creature I sent against your brother?"

Espio nodded. "I personally witnessed to the show of her many abilities. The girl shut herself inside a ten Steps by ten steel cage with a lion. A real lion, like those you keep in the Sapphire Palace dungeons. She provoked the lion with her whip. The lion enraged, tried to catch her, but couldn't devour her. Then, the girl exhorted whoever was a great knife thrower to step forward and hit her. But nobody even brushed by her little dress."

Espio turned towards the duel. Racitro moved a first step towards the girl. She drew back, but stumbled and crashed on the ground, sword lying on her legs. Racitro seized his groin and licked the fingers of his other hand.

Espio shook his head.

Like a self-styled gentleman, Racitro held out his palm to her. She refused the hand and spat on the ground. The people rejoiced.

What a spitfire. And she has refused your hand, Prince.

The girl stood up and shook her shining blonde hair coming out of the armet to the sun. She raised her dirty sword, too. Racitro got one step closer. The girl made a somersault. Racitro dealt a cutting blow from right. The blow impetus separated the sword from the girl's hands. The sword crashed in the dust like a pheasant killed by a dart.

Espio's elbow flopped on the throne arms. If Racitro had not restrained himself, she would have flown away along with the sword.

Racitro dealt another cutting blow. The girl drew two steps back.

"Let the lion be tamed", Merete raised his goblet and toasted to his own uppity claims.

The slim girl dodged Racitro's sword with a pirouette. Racitro started chasing her.

Hmm...this is the girl's favorite dance. And she is leading it.

Espio laid his elbow on the right throne arm. After some minutes, he passed to the left one. Then, he got back to the right one, trying to prevent his chin from falling on the bleachers cold stone. The Arena fell in a tedious silence. Espio covered his mouth to hide a yawn.

"Do you think she will keep on running away till the sunset?"

"Up to the dawn, if necessary."

Espio rolled his eyes to the sky.

The girl dodged the umpteenth Racitro's blow, a quite slow blow. Racitro twirled the sword in his hand.

Glad to see she's making you sweat.

The girl swerved another cutting blow and made a somersault. She stretched her roguish hand on Racitro's sword belt and pulled a knife out of his sheathe.

Espio held the throne arms tight, tempted to leap up. The commoners exulted.

The girl dodged with inextinguishable dexterity another Racitro's cutting blow; then, she pirouetted and reached Racitro's arm. She sank the knife in a gap under his armpit.

Espio opened his eyes wide.

"And this is only the beginning", Merete said, before sneering.

For the first time, Racitro withdrew. He was wheezing, but, most of all, he was holding the bruised arm with the left hand. He dealt a dozen of cutting blows, but raised only a great cloud of dust. At the end of the assault, poor him, he was on the verge of falling on his knees before the opponent who, only in that case, would have been as tall as him.

Espio leaned forward.

Calm down. Maybe Racitro is just pretending some difficulties.

Espio addressed Maruoco Gariant, the courtier sat on the seat in front of Espio's mother. "Tell me, Maruoco. In your opinion, is there any chance my brother is just shamming as usual?"

"I don't think so, Majesty. I don't believe he'd have delayed the combat for so long."

"Sebina. Sebina", the crowd on Espio's right started chanting.

They're no longer rooting for you. What a bliss to see you perish of you own poison.

"What do you think, Majesty?" Merete said. "Do you think I properly complied with your instructions?"

I think your hooked nose will be seen in my court for some time more. "I feel satisfied. But I'm eager to see how this so satisfying combat will end."

Espio held the throne arms and abandoned himself to action. Racitro was doubled-over before Sebina. She was standing before him, looking even regal in her fencing stance. She dodged a cutting blow and stabbed the knife in a gap between Racitro's thigh and knee. The gigantic Racitro crashed on his knees.

The insolent Sebina distanced herself from Racitro and swayed her buttocks in his face. Then, she denied them with a hilarious forefinger shaking.

What a resourceful damsel. If she wins, I'll honor her with a noble rank.

Racitro stood up, but he was as slow as ever. Sebina dodged a blow from below and jumped on Racitro's back, where the beast claws couldn't reach her. She sank her knife over Racitro's right scapula. For a moment, Racitro's movements stopped. Then, his hands moved in search of the girl. Sebina bolted away without the knife, which was stuck in one of Racitro's armor gaps. Racitro burst out roaring and flung the shield on the ground. Sebina swerved a couple of predictable cutting blows and Racitro fell on the ground, despite nobody had hit him. Sebina dealt a sublime kick in that previously smug sneer.

Racitro fell on his back, wrapped by two twists of dust. His chest moved upwards and downwards under the steel. Sebina deprived him of the sword with a kick and carried it twenty Steps farther. Then, she took her whip.

"We're going to see the tamer at work", Merete rubbed his hands.

Espio ran his tongue on his lips.

I'm looking at the sun setting on your Kingdom, brother. Tonight, you'll cry bitter tears in the bosom of our mother after getting spanked by that girl. Then, I'll oblige you to genuflect on the pebbles only to deny you a rematch.

The whip cracked. The commoners echoed each stroke. Racitro rolled on his belly. The girl whipped him both on back and buttocks.

Your moans, brother. They're the only thing this sublime symphony is missing.

Espio straightened up on the throne from which he had been slipping away jump after jump. At the subsequent stroke, he pumped his right fist in mid-air. Again and again.

I'm sure you won't give me the delight of seeing you surrender, but, stroke after stroke your body could give up to pain.

Another crack, this time a little less thundering. Racitro turned all in a sudden. The whip rolled up on his forearm. Sebina fell on the ground, dragged by the beast.

"Let go that whip", Espio said to the wind.

The girl vanished in the dust. She reappeared only when she was already fighting for her life, tightened among the lion's jaws. Racitro's arms were wrapped around her throat. Racitro squeezed her tongue out of her mouth. The girl cried and tapped her hand in surrender.

Espio fell on the throne. We were so close. We were so, so close.

### Chapter 7 - Racitro

Racitro picked at his neck with his right little finger, trying to relieve from the prickle caused by the tight doublet collar unfitting his pumped-up muscles. He rubbed his fingers below his left armpit, touching the hand-embroidered lion on his chest.

He waddled towards the banquet table, where courtiers and noblewomen were busy jabbering between one taster and the next. One of the servants passed beside Racitro and laid on the table one platter full of fresh cheeses and one full of red, green and yellow apple slices. Racitro seized a saucer and picked here and there some apple slices, some prunes and some bits of goat cheese.

Neither of the courtiers addressed him, nor he participated in one of their tedious discussions about Espio. Nonetheless, he stood still staring at the lips of those surrounding him and gazed at the marked jiggling of Clodio Ainio's prominent belly.

I really find it hard to believe that I can find, among these plump incompetents, someone who will support my claim to the throne. I'm the Champion of the Arena, but nobody is asking me any impression about my next duel.

Sissies and gossipers packed into the already overcrowded banquet room, all eager to taste some delicacies and to turn up the ungainly giggling loudness.

Well, at least, when Espio comes in, welcomed with all the honors befitting him, I'll be able to take the door to safety going unnoticed.

"I can't wait to see which kind of delicious suit the King will wear to celebrate his thirtieth birthday", Flania, the boot-licker, said.

"This banquet is really pleasing", Licinio Svelto said. "And the evening has just begun. The most exquisite courses will be certainly served after the toast for the King."

"Unless surprises", Flania said, turning her eyes towards Racitro.

"Here's to my brother Espio", Racitro had said at his brother's birthday banquet three years before.

Racitro half-filled Espio's goblet and enjoyed the cardamom aroma of the mulled wine. "The King is turning twenty-seven and he has been seated on the throne for three years..." he indicated that number with his fingers. "Assuring us prosperity and this good tasting wine."

Racitro licked his fingers and dipped them in Espio's gold goblet. His brother scowled, raising the right eyebrow first and, then, even the left one. The people all around them started giggling.

Their mother gripped Racitro's earlobe and dragged him into the kitchens.

"Is this the way to behave before the entire court?" She pulled his earlobe, forcing him to come closer.

"What's wrong? It has been just an out of the ordinary toast. However, if Espio feels offended, tell him to exempt me from the next toasts. I'm fed up with flattering him at every celebration. He takes pleasure in seeing me subjugated."

"Now I won't let you get away with it. You'll keep on delivering speeches at your brother's toast, but I'll write them down."

Mum's speeches would be way too trite without my licenses.

One of the servants half-filled Racitro's goblet with the same red wine Racitro had just delighted. Its lightly sparkling taste enchanted his tongue.

The main door opened and three ladies Racitro had never known came in the banquet room. It seemed that the prettiest of them could bewitch her two mates by simply dangling her long black braids falling on her shoulders. She turned around, showing off her breasts, which emerged like headlands from a dress of the color of the sea. Racitro peeked at her ermine hemmed neckline and at the laces of the underlying blouse. He heard someone sniggering behind him and shook his head. But he was no more in control of his eyes which pointed at her, attracted by the flapping of the wonderful sapphire she was wearing around her neck.

His heart throbbed as she casted a fleeting glance on him. He noticed he was drooling and ran his forefinger on his lips. Then, he started sipping the wine to cover his face and, at the same time, keep on enjoying her grace. His left arm started tingling and it was only by means of a servant's girlish coarse shout that he noticed he had spread what was left on the saucer of the prunes juices and of the cheese on his trousers. The servant started rubbing his trousers with a tissue. Racitro drew the left foot back, trying to hide her the evident stiffening in the inguinal area.

"Have you stained your trousers?"

Racitro glanced up towards the source of that so determined, though cheerful, voice. Racitro drew one step back as he found the lady he had long peeked at before his eyes. He shook his legs and straightened up, chin upwards. He didn't utter a word, but couldn't look away from the light red pallor on her cheeks. He noticed she was smiling. Like a wave, her cobalt blue gloves hid her rose lips and her teeth shining like firmament stars.

Racitro swallowed the lump. "It's nothing more than a small stain."

"What kind of cheese did you taste, if you please?" She said.

"Goa-", he cleared his throat. "Goat cheese from Eristoph's Beard."

"Hmm...one of my favorite cheeses. And, in addition, it is produced not far from my neck of the woods."

Racitro didn't say anything, but he rubbed his left hand on the trousers to relieve from the oppressing sweating.

I must tell her something. But what? Hmm...What about her name?

"Don't you remember me?" She said.

"May-", he cleared his throat again and beat his fist on his chest. "Maybe hearing your name will make me remember memories I thought I'd lost."

"Sounds like a rather witty way to know the name of a lady. But you won't get off that easily. Actually, I feel offended." Yeah, right. "You have to cudgel your brains to devise something more impressive in order to know my name."

My night is getting interesting. Wait...Tell her. "You're making my night interesting."

Racitro smiled at her and she smiled back at him. Then, she stretched her hand towards an Endhora's ladybirdberry. The juice and flesh of the fruit between her turgid lips perfumed her breath with a fragrant aroma.

Racitro shook his head. "You-You said the goat cheese is produced in your neck of the woods. So, I can hazard a guess about the fief you come from."

"Be careful, I said 'not far from my neck of the woods'."

"You're wearing cobalt blue", a convenient excuse to enjoy her from head to foot.

"Your eyes are lingering a little too much over the hill countries. I come from countries which are much flatter and...wetter."

Racitro's trousers became way too tight. "Rigas Mausir?"

The lady looked stern. Racitro's inguinal pressure started lessening. She smiled again at him, but, for the first time, she didn't cover her lips. "Well done. The gossips about you are true."

Oh, great. I'm not in touch with the Ridget's courtiers, let alone those of such a far fief. And what if that infamous Espio has passed me off as a fool? "Which kind of gossips has reached your gentle ear? If you don't mind me asking."

"You still don't know my name, but I know yours. You're Racitro, the King of the Arena."

Ah. King of the Arena. Racitro stuck his chest out. "I'm glad you've heard of my feats. Tell me, what else do you know about me?"

"I know that what people tell about you is true. That you have got eyes able to undress who stands before you. I must admit I thought you were a stupid big man, but getting to know you has been a relishing surprise."

"I really appreciate your compliments", Racitro got all choked up. He looked around. "Would you like some wine? This Angusta wine is from the best year."

"Sure. I knew that I could find no less than the best at the King's table."

Racitro took a goblet and started pouring some Angusta red wine.

"You know", she said. "In my neck of the woods we have a saying that you can find out a man's real intentions depending on how much wine he fills your goblet with."

Racitro stopped pouring. The wine inside the bottle swayed from the neck to the bottom and, then, again to the neck. Racitro stared at that half-filled goblet.

And now? What should I do?

She leaned forward. Her warm fingers ran sinuously on his hand. It was like a long velvety caress. She seized the goblet. Racitro tried to tread water in her sea-like blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat and warmed his chest. He was pervaded by a pleasing thrill which, from the hand, climbed all the way up to his shoulder. As she withdrew her fingers, a charming itch kept on tickling his hand. She smiled at him. He was brought back from that wonderful dream by the glass clashing on the table and by the Angusta red wine gobbling out of the bottle. She stared back at him as she had already forgotten his awkward gesture.

Bony and manly fingers dotted by dark speckles and prominent veins laid on the lady's right shoulder. Racitro turned up his nose and squinted towards that man who could get so familiar with her. That white mustache, so many times Racitro had seen during his childhood, leaped out at him.

The last time I saw you your mustache were not as white as this tablecloth, my dear Caiano Toriad.

"Prince", Caiano gave Racitro a shoulder shake. "I'm glad you have already got acquainted with my daughter. So long since we last met. I almost didn't recognize you", he addressed her daughter. "You know, my dear, the last time I saw Racitro he was only half the size he is now."

She forced a smile she hid behind the glove.

"It's been a long time, indeed", Racitro said. "I'm glad you've come to attend my brother's birthday celebration. I'm sure he'll be as glad as me to talk with his most eminent vassal in, what for him is, such an important day."

"Your flatteries honor me, Prince", Caiano said. "I hope the King will appreciate our visit with your same joviality", he addressed her daughter with a fleeting glance. She didn't glance back at him. "Anyway, since I'm not accustomed to attend the capital, I plan to extend my visit for more than the occasion of delight that this little party is."

Racitro couldn't restrain from smiling.

If only Espio would be here to listen you. He spared no effort to set up this 'little party'.

"Maybe some good Angusta red wine will make your night more enjoyable, father", the daughter said.

"Unfortunately, our Champion had preferred to give it to the tablecloth", he tried giving Racitro another shoulder shake, but found a wall. Caiano withdrew his hand repressing his pain. "But, tell us, will we have the chance to see you fight?"

"I'll fight in three days", Racitro said. "As part of the celebrations my brother had announced."

"We'll make sure to be there", Caiano said.

The trumpets blared.

For Eristoph's sake. Espio is coming and I don't know how to sneak off.

"I beg your pardon, Prince", Caiano said. "I'd gladly hang out with you, but I've to pay deferent homages to His Majesty", he held out his arm to her daughter. "I hope he'll be glad to see us."

"Go ahead, father. I'll be right behind you", she refused to take his arm.

Caiano didn't answer back at her, but started threading his way through the crowded courtiers, eager to bow before Espio.

The lady glanced at the main door ajar. Racitro stared at her, but didn't get her attention.

Are you going to grovel before my brother like your father?

The scent of the roasted and glazed piglet, Espio had wanted for his banquet, spread through the banquet room.

Espio's gonna make me slice it and serve it to him. I need to find a way out. Hastily.

He looked around both on right and on left. He eyed one of the doors the servants were using to serve the courses. Racitro perceived a scent much more savory and gentler than that given forth by the piglet. He turned his head and met the lady's eyes.

"You seem anxious", she said.

He stared at her for a few moments without answering. Thus, she gave him another velvety caress and wrapped her gentle fingers around his callous hand.

"It seems you want to walk away", she said.

"I'd very much like to do it", Racitro's chin flopped.

The main door opened. High and mighty, Espio came in. He was dressed up with a glitzy emerald tunic, hemmed with so much gold that his gait was unsteady. He showed off a so dazzling smile that the mother and all the other silly geese sighed along.

"And where do you want to go?" She said.

"Wherever my brother won't find me."

A servant forced them to move away from the table and laid down a platter full of local peppery cold cuts. Someone pulled Racitro by the hand. It was the lady. She leaded him towards the door he had previously eyed.

They ran through the kitchens. The spicy scent was so thick that it permeated their clothes. At the other side of the kitchen they snuck into the aisle and, then, upstairs, towards the royal apartments.

The lady's gentle, though firm, hold leaded him at a glass door with balcony access. The rays of moonlight danced along her silk dress broad wrinkles, churning them like the waves of the sea.

The lady opened the glass door. A light breeze tousled her hair, diffusing the sea fragrance her hair was pervaded with in the air. Racitro waited in the shadow and moistened his lips. One single intense glance was enough to make him follow her in the night.

Racitro laid his elbows on the stone cold balustrade. The lady caressed the sculpted stone lions serving as column for the balustrade. He and she looked at the castle fortifications and at the delightful firelights dancing in the night, as chaotic as fireflies, beyond the walls. Shy stars were dotting a welkin matching the color of her eyes, insomuch that Racitro could no longer discern them and got lost in her eyes.

"I really like this place. Do you think they will find us up here?"

"Shortly, my brother will notice my absence, and you father will notice yours, too. I fear that, soon enough, these aisles will be rather crowded."

"But nobody knows we ran away together. Where do you think they will start to search for you?"

"They'll start from the Arena, obviously. It's my shelter. As for you, I don't know. Your father could inform the guards about your habits. Are you accustomed to leave the banquets before the toast?"

She rolled her eyes to the sky. "It's the first time. And it's quite exciting. I like this town. It's so different from my hometown, though familiar. And, maybe, there's someone I might stay here for."

Racitro seized her hand laid on the balustrade. She smiled at him.

"Do you know any place where they will not have found us at the crack of dawn?" She said. "But, keep in mind, it must not be a dark hole. I want to witness the great fighting skills that made you a legend."

Racitro contemplated the fortifications and the boundaries of the Sapphire Palace. "Well, I know a place", he turned towards her and smiled. "But it's very risky. Do you feel up to it?"

She nodded.

They left the balcony and ran through the aisles adorned with tapestries immortalizing great and epic battles; then, up an unsafe steep staircase inside the tower.

Once at the top, the breathless lady doubled up. He stared at her bouncing breasts.

"Forgive me", Racitro said. "I might have kindly offered to carry you in my arms."

She laughed. "On the contrary, I'm glad I'm breathless. Life in the palace is so emotionless", she looked around. "Do you really think they won't find us up here?"

"There's still some chance here, but I don't think they will climb up there", Racitro pointed his finger at a ladder leading at the dormer.

"A ladder?" She frowned. "How mischievous you are, Prince. I guess you want me to go first so that you could gaze under my dress."

Racitro bent his head, away from the dress the lady was fluttering. "I don't think I'll see anything in this darkness. And, however, it's even more dangerous up there. So, I'll go first."

The ladder creaked rung after rung and so did the rusty dormer hinges. Through the small door, Racitro climbed up on the small terrace, wide enough to host two archers. He stuck out his hand towards the ladder and stretched it in the darkness to find and lift the lady, whose name was still unknown to him. Racitro stood up without any fear. She remained on her knees and tugged him as she was looking for a support. Racitro seized the lady by her armpits and got her back on her feet. Then, he ran his hand along her sides till they were shoulder to shoulder.

"That's wonderful", she said. "I can see the entire town. And this dormer faces onto my homelands. I can't imagine how wonderful the dusk would be up here."

"But even the moonlight doesn't clash on you."

She smiled. "It's hard to find such a romantic heart and such a refined mind behind such heap of muscles."

The lady swayed her hips. "It's a little narrow up here. How will I get my personal demonstration of your talents as a warrior on the top of this tower?"

"Be hopeful, my lady", Racitro let go her hips and climbed down through the door. He slid along the ladder longitudinal bars. Then, he rummaged through the tools placed in the room corners.

A javelin could do the trick.

He found just a half-rotten javelin, which metallic head had not met a whetstone over the last lustrum.

"A spear?" She said.

"A javelin", he said.

"Be that as it may, how do you plan to use it?"

Racitro pointed his finger towards the opposite building roof, towards the ronde-bosse acroterion, having wolf features, the Doardos had realized.

It's not an easy throw and this persistent and annoying light wind could deflect the javelin.

"But what do you plan to hit?"

"Look down there. Can you see the wolf tail? It's curled up to form a loop."

"I still don't get what you plan to do. Don't you want to tear that magnificent sculpture down?"

"Well, no. My intention is to stick this javelin inside that loop."

The lady moved away and stood before the door. Racitro weighed the javelin in his sweaty hand.

I've done this a thousand times. I can't go wrong. Not this time.

He raised the javelin over his shoulder and stared at the wolf and at the loop. He took a deep breath and waited until the wind died down. He threw the javelin, which disappeared in the darkness. He heard a rap, followed by some vibrations. The lady sighed as much as Racitro's mother had done when Espio had appeared in the banquet room.

"That was outstanding", she said. "You're a real prodigy."

Racitro put his right hand on his nape. "I hope milady is satisfied."

"Oh...how explicit you are."

"What do you mean?"

"Well...you leaded me up here, out in the cold, only because you wish to keep me warm, don't you? And it's not a case you've just showed me how good you are in the athletic performance of inserting a long, very long actually, spear in a hole."

Racitro felt hot.

What? That thought never crossed my mind.

"And..." She glanced down. "That prominence enlarging your silky trousers speaks for itself."

Racitro shifted his groin out of her sight, trying to hide it.

"I think there's another place where they'll never look for us", she said. Racitro raised an eyebrow. "It's a far warmer and cozier place where, perhaps, I might show you off some of my secret skills."

He felt his cheeks get hot.

"It seems you're groping in the dark. But, we ran beside that place to reach this tower", he stared at her. "I'm talking about your brother's bedroom."

Racitro grabbed Espio's bedroom gold handle, but the lady, carried in his arms, seized his wrist and held it.

"Just a moment, Prince. You have not guessed my name yet. Don't you want to share the bed with a lady you don't know the name of?"

"As far as I know, you're Caiano Toriad's daughter. So, I could address you as lady Toriad."

She looked unsatisfied.

If only I'd given attention at those tedious circumstances in which master Tobiarte had named Caiano's children.

"The vassal of Rigas Mausir, Caiano Toriad, informs us that her daughter Scelika will lock chains with-", remembering master Tobiarte's voice made Racitro shudder and he almost lost excitement down there.

"Here are my children", Caiano said the last time Racitro went to Rigas Mausir when he wasn't the Champion of the Arena. "Scelika, my oldest daughter and first in my line of succession."

Surely this can't be her. Hmm...Caiano has also two sons. But, if I'm not wrong, there was also a prepubescent girl. He locked eyes with her. I can't believe it's you. You grew up so much. You blossomed into a woman...I clearly remember only your nose...and your braids. Unfortunately, not your name.

"Another small hint?" He said her.

"My name is not so common. However, there was a Queen Cilantes of Ridget bearing my same name."

Well, well, well...my ancestors...Argh...Let's start from the beginning. Espio is the sixty-second King starting from our forefather Galco. And there were...twenty-eight...no, twenty-nine Queens. And among them...Oh...I hope it's the correct one.

"My gentle lady, your name is..." She tightened her hold around Racitro's neck and got closer with the lips. She thrilled and creased her dress. "The prettiest", she frowned. "The most prestigious. A name worthy of a Queen. And Eristoph only knows what a great Queen you would be", he made her smile. "Veneramanda."

Her hot wet lips wrapped his ones. Racitro opened the door and so did for the sheets covering Espio's bed.

Late at night, someone opened the bedroom door. Racitro kissed the moaning Veneramanda on the neck and didn't stop copulating with her. The blinding flashes of a candelabrum lighted up Racitro's doublet lying on the floor. Then, Veneramanda's blouse. Racitro glanced towards the light, but didn't discern any human silhouette. Veneramanda's tickled his hairy chest. Racitro moved the legs rightward and felt the moisture he had desecrated the sheets with. She moaned. Racitro saw Espio's wan face and went into raptures.

### Chapter 8 - Espio

Espio drummed his fingers on the ash wooden table without a break.

"Majesty, do you think it's really advisable to break with the longtime and established traditions, molded by heroic feats, which, generation after generation, have given luster to the Arena?" Celete said. "Don't you think that King Sofees, the builder of the Arena, would have objected at your proposition? In his glorious intents, the Arena wasn't built to flaunt the atrocities you're proposing."

"What do you mean by atrocities? The pouncing on a poor beast?" Uncle Livinio said. "In my honest opinion, Racitro is valiant enough to overwhelm it. And, moreover, don't forget that the lack of competition could lead the commoners, who so diligently pour Ducats in our coffers, to lose their affection for the offered show", he turned towards Espio. "I agree with the King's proposal. A breathe of fresh air always gives rise to expectations."

"It's without a shadow of a doubt that having a beast as champion would be a quirky innovation", Merete said. "Nonetheless, I wonder which man, in his right mind, would be willing to face it."

There's a lot of talk about broken traditions, but not the slightest indignation has roused for the desecrated beds.

Lying on top of the western lassie, Racitro panted like a wounded beast. Espio got nauseated as he was looking at Racitro's swaying hips. The young girl moaned and Racitro turned towards Espio for a fleeting moment. Then, Racitro opened his jaws wide and howled with pleasure.

The advisors stopped squabbling. They were in a daze, staring at Espio. Espio noticed he had grimaced in horror. He hid his face behind his hand.

I've to keep my resentment bottled up. I can't allow the vituperating obscenities occurred in my bed to blow wide open and reach gossipy ears. On pain of my sempiternal humiliation.

Racitro moved apart from the western lassie and laid down on one side with his repugnant excrescence in full sight. A whitish slimy filament oozed from the tip and fell on the sheets.

"Majesty?...Majesty?" Celete's voice brought Espio back from those bad thoughts.

Espio suppressed retching and nodded to him.

"Allow me an observation. You can't allow Racitro to face a lion. I exhort you to think it over. The lion is the emblem of your family, and so is for your brother. Whatever the result, a lion will lose and this could further stir up the commoners' already fiery mood."

"Unfortunately, I must agree with Celete", the uncle said. "Maybe the lion is not the most suitable beast you can oppose to your brother. The desire to see you accept Racitro's challenge is still ardent in the people. And, since you're a Cilantes, those idiots could be inclined to think that the beast is fighting in your stead."

Espio rolled his eyes to contemplate the ceiling. I see what you're getting at.

Espio straightened on the chair, laid his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers.

But that doesn't mean I will drop my plan of revenge. You'd better agree with my second option. "Then, what about a dragon?"

The bystanders goggled in succession, reminding Espio the choreography the commoners used to greet Racitro during his entries in the Arena.

Nobody said anything, but the three advisors looked at each other. "Well then, no objections?"

"Majesty", Celete again. "If I may object. As far as we know, dragons don't exist."

Espio scraped the chair on the stone floor. Celete hunched his shoulders and shuddered.

Espio stood up and reached for the mahogany armoire. He ran his fingers on the armoire doors deep engravings immortalizing King Sofees, the builder of the Arena, and King Glindo. Espio extracted a key from the internal pocket of his tunic and unlocked the deadlock. Through the doors, he found the rack where the most prestigious and glorious weapons of the royal lineage were preserved.

Espio touched the bas relief adornments molded on the sheathes of the three swords. He turned at Breath of Fire. The sheathe protecting the historic blade was green and embellished with golden flames motifs. He grabbed the dragon head, molded on the sheathe to bite the sword guard. Espio turned on his heels and kept the sword in full sight, so that the advisors could admire it. He seized the hilt with the right hand and held the sheathe with the left one. On the verge of unsheathing the sword, he was seized by a sudden feeling of power developed by the only desire of brandish it. The sword saw the light again and radiated blinding glares.

"Do you know this sword?" Espio kept on staring at the thousands of flickering glares produced by the light shimmering on the sword.

Celete looked indifferent as usual. Merete looked enchanted by the perfection of the steel and by the quality and grace of the shapes, but his bewitched expression didn't pay befitting homage to the legend before his eyes.

"For those who don't know it, this is Breath of Fire", the uncle, who has been craving it lifelong, couldn't look away.

He's staring at me as if, at his venerable age, he could brandish this sword with better skills than me.

"The legendary sword..." Merete stood agape. "May Eristoph take my eyes back if I'll ever wash them again. I was allowed the only grace of hearing about it so far. Far be it from me to think it was that marvelous."

"What do you want to prove?" Celete said.

Straight to the point.

"Celete, I grant you the honor of telling us the illustrious history of this sword", Espio twirled the hilt in his hand. "Tell us, who forged it and in which circumstances?"

Celete withdrew his buttocks against the back of the chair and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "It was forged for the will of King Glindo, certainly one of your more illustrious ancestors."

Espio wiggled the point of the sword before Celete, exhorting him to resume.

Merete answered in place of Celete. "If the legend is true, King Glindo commissioned it to Goldsmith, the best master forger of his time. And, according to the legend, Goldsmith used to forge his swords inside a dragon belly."

"Legends, precisely", Celete said.

"They're not just legends", Espio said. "Are you in the mood of slinging mud on the good name of my noble ancestor, Celete?"

Celete shook his head and lowered his chin. Espio sheathed the sword and put it back on the rack. Then, he reached his own seat and, since Celete had annoyed him, he scraped the chair on the floor, making the elder hunch his shoulders.

Sometimes you're more annoying than the sores affecting your sickly body.

"Now that we have ascertained the existence of these creatures, I hope you'll agree with my proposition. Imagine the herald announcement..." Espio raised his right hand and traced an arc in the air from left to right. "The dragon versus the lion. I'm pretty sure the commoners, whose opinion is so important to you, will flock enthusiastically. Moreover, the dragon won't deputize either for my family, or for me."

"I agree, Majesty." You? "But, though allowing the existence of dragons, nobody knows where they hide. I admit I personally brought attention to the tales of uncountable northern wayfarers about the sighting of impressive flying creatures having all the features of the dragons described in the legends, but nobody has ever known either where they come from, or where to find them."

"What about starting our search from the clouds?" Merete said.

The uncle turned up his nose. "In that instance, we'll be back to square one."

"What I'm trying to tell you, Majesty, is that nobody has the slightest idea where to find a dragon", Celete said.

Espio stroked his chin.

It hurts, but I have to agree. For Eristoph's sake, four worlds, but nobody who knows where to find a dragon. "We don't need to organize this battle immediately. We could do it afterwards. There's plenty of time to start searching for a dragon, drive it out and catch it."

"Even if we had Ducats and time to squander in these nonsenses, think about the logistics of arranging such a challenge", Celete said. "A dragon is big, very big. And, if the legend is true, he breaths fire. Do you really think it would be safe to surround a dragon with thousands of people? Furthermore, we must not forget that, as a creature which rebelled to Eristoph, the dragon is able to fly. Who assure you that, for its own pleasure, the dragon won't fly away from the Arena, escaping the battle?"

"But we could bind one of its legs", Espio said.

"That will give the dragon another reason to turn us to ashes", Celete stood up. "If you want to do it, it'll be without me, Majesty. I want no part of it. Please, allow me to leave your council. I don't have any other advice to give you."

Espio stared at Celete for some moments.

"Please, stay, Celete. I'll drop my second proposition. But, since all of you dwelt on objections, and that your King has other issues to comply with, I want you to stay here as long as you won't agree on the beast my brother will face. It doesn't matter if it's big or small. And it doesn't matter where you'll fetch it. As long as the beast is a serious and believable threat for my brother."

After a good five days of jabbering, uncle Livinio came in the study wearing a heavy winter suit embellished with bear fur. The uncle smiled and laid his hand on the back of the empty chair before Espio. He pulled the chair.

"So, is that your choice?" Espio said. "My brother will face a bear."

The smile disappeared from the uncle's face as he sat. "I was hoping I could tell you. Looks like this suit has revealed our resolution. Does our proposition meet your approval?"

A bear. Ravenous enough to attack a man, especially if properly provoked. Moreover, it's endowed with natural weapons, such as teeth and claws, designed to kill. "My propositions were better, though unrealistic. Make sure the commoners are informed."

Espio's mother announced herself at the door. She skipped towards the table, heedless of the crawling of her dress on the floor. Uncle Livinio took his leave from Espio and greeted his sister-in-law with a bow.

Before Espio could greet her, she grabbed both his hands and shook them. She sat and showed off her rosy cheeks and a smile animated by squeaks.

"I rushed here as soon as I found out. Your brother is going to ask Lady Veneramanda Toriad to marry him at the end of the next duel", she squeaked again and shook his hands without a break.

Espio freed his hand from his mother's hold and glanced at the floor. "Heartfelt wishes."

His mother slapped his hand. "You ought to show more affection for you brother. As for you, don't you believe it's the most propitious time to lock chains? Don't you see how many pretty ladies of noble lineage fall head over heels into love with you? Oh...if only you'd show them a little of appreciation."

I'm sad to ascertain your regression to the teenage years, mum. But, save your breath. Caiano Toriad has already wasted my time trying to marry me with his lassie. And you know what? She has found her way to my bed, but for the sole purpose to desecrate it in honor of Racitro's delight. If she had not offended me that way, Caiano's lassie would have been the best choice, at least for political reasons.

Espio moved his light square bishop from d3 to c4, in opposition to the black king. Tobiarte ignored the threat and moved his knight from b4 to c2. "Check."

Espio slapped his forehead and let himself fall against the back of his chair.

Another fork. King, catapult and even the queen.

"By moving the bishop away you have left c2 uncovered, a square now occupied by my knight", Master Tobiarte oppressed Espio. "You should always calculate how moving one of your pieces will alter the coordination of the others."

Espio stared at that unstoppable knight which, by putting him in check, was on the verge of taking his queen.

Wait a second. This knight...it reminds me of Racitro and his actions. Maybe, he has not fall for Caiano's daughter. His real intention is to take her away from me in order to marry into my most powerful vassal's family, so that Caiano will become his stronger supporter and my more deadly enemy when Racitro try to overthrow me.

Espio moved his white king to f1.

That's impossible. Racitro has never been more than a stubborn dumb. He has taken the battle field to support his illegitimate claims to the throne, after all. How could he ever contrive something such shrewd? Maybe, someone is advising him.

The trumpets blared. Espio reached the Arena bleachers, accompanied by the usual cortège of nobles. Veneramanda was just before him. Her hips were swaying with a grace unaltered by the rude relationship with Racitro. Espio followed the sinuous swaying of those hips wrapped in a silk suit with white laces; her dress was clingy in the right spots to enhance the shapes Eristoph had given her. Vulgar laughs spread across the boors flocked on the limestone seats.

Espio raised his head.

I have to contain myself. He glanced again at the lady's hips. Hmm...I give up. I'll linger on them again, but with warier discretion.

The lady took care of raising her suit train and sat. That gesture uncovered her smooth legs to the knees. The uncovered skin shone like polished bronze for those brief moments the amber glares of the setting sun kissed her. Espio glanced up and met her crystal eyes. He stared at her with courtesy, but the lady looked away and hurried to cover those graces Espio had long appreciated.

Espio shook his head and laid his buttocks on the seat beside the lady. Espio's mother started gossiping with her daughter-in-law-to-be.

Granted with the honor of sitting at his King's right, Caiano Toriad tilted his head towards Espio. "I'm eager to see this battle. But, tell me, Majesty. Is it true that your brother is going to face a bear?"

"It couldn't be more true", Espio said. "I'm delighted you lingered in the capital long enough to see my brother fight."

Your arrival in the capital is giving me nothing but troubles. And, judging by your unemotional bearing, it's clear that your daughter told you nothing about her engagement with Racitro and that you didn't get the picture by yourself, as slow-witted as you are.

Espio turned towards Caiano's shy daughter. Espio's mother was holding Veneramanda's left hand and was caressing the lassie as she wanted to tame her.

"Aren't you anxious, my dear?" Espio said to Veneramanda.

The lady didn't even turn towards him. She kept on staring at her hands and folded her arms.

Every time I talk to you, you hide your breast. It's not that your dress leaves much to the imagination, my dear. Or, perhaps, you're just embarrassed due to the unpleasantness occurred between us. Don't tell me Racitro forced you.

"Yes", the usual monosyllable.

"Don't worry. I'm sure my brother will have the better even against a bear. Did you have the chance to talk with Racitro before the duel? How did you find him? Confident? Fearless?"

"Confident."

"I wanted to have a little talk with the bear, but it didn't seem in the mood of giving me his perceptions just a few minutes before the duel."

Veneramanda didn't look at Espio, but, just a few moments after, her turgid lips curled into a smirk.

Maybe she finds me witty.

The blare of trumpets brought Espio back to the duel. He turned to look at the proud entry of the wild beast he had taken great pains to starve for all the day preceding the duel. The bear thick black coat shone at the sunset haze as it trotted towards the middle of the battle field. It showed off a meek expression, but its experienced predator eyes turned immediately towards Racitro. Haughty as usual, Racitro twirled the sword with the sole purpose of curry favor with the commoners. Then, as a mean shameless person, Racitro turned his buttocks before the beast.

Even the bear is indignantly looking at you.

The beast advanced with cautious and silent steps. Veneramanda and his mother jerked and held their hands tightly. Racitro shrugged his shoulders, as the meek beast was making him impatient. The bear advanced till it got ten Steps away from Racitro, its face and eyes always pointing at the prey. The bear roared. Racitro raised his shield. The bear advanced and Racitro drew one step back. Then, he raised his sword and wiggled it before the beast nose. The bear roared. Racitro attacked from above. The bear drew one step back.

"My dear, don't you find that this duel is uneven? The bear doesn't brandish a weapon, either has a shield, or an armor."

Veneramanda didn't reply. But she peeked at Espio, at least, and tilted her head towards him. "But the bear has long and sharp claws and teeth."

You're whiter than white.

"I agree, but you'll agree with me that it has not got any protection. If Racitro is bitten at the arm, the armor will defend him pretty well. Conversely, if Racitro's sword reaches the beast, its beautiful shiny coat will turn red."

Veneramanda didn't reply. She bent her head and clasped her hands, perhaps making a plea for Eristoph to watch over Racitro.

Espio peeked at Veneramanda out of the corner of his eye. From time to time, she fleetingly glanced at him.

"Racitro enjoys mocking his competitor. Don't be afraid, my dear, he is just mocking the bear the same way he does with any other competitor."

Veneramanda didn't deem him worthy of even a shred of a comment. Espio was on the verge of puffing, but he kept his temper.

She glanced at Espio with her glacial eyes and cracked a smile. Then, she turned towards Racitro. Her eyes became warm and tumultuous like a sea churned by love or by who knows what else sorcery.

What did I ever do to deserve such malevolence on your part? Oh, right. I put your husband-to-be in a battle field with a bear.

"My dear?" she avoided glancing at him. Espio seized her right hand. She tried to withdraw it, but surrendered after a gentle caress.

"Now I see that there's someone special who gladdens your life. And you met him right here in my humble mansion. Please, soon enough you'll join my family. You must not be so shy. Or, if you can't, feign interest for what I ask you."

She didn't deem him worthy of even a compassionate glance. The fingers Espio was caressing clenched. Espio ran his fingers on her enchanting and soft skin along the arm and found comfortable stand on her shoulder. He tickled her braid. The lady tilted her head on the left.

"We could strike an agreement, Veneramanda. If you have the kindness of making my evening more pleasant by having a little talk with me, I promise that, once my brother will have won, I'll personally and officially herald, before the entire people, what seems to be so important for you."

He caught her eyes. The ice previously gripping them melted as if Espio was a warm summer sun risen in a dark winter dawn.

"Do you really mean it, Majesty?"

"Of course, my dear. Actually, I don't get the reason behind your immoderate embarrassment. I understand that my brother involved you in a shameful and unrestrained unpleasantness. But you'll find that I'm a magnanimous King with a heart willing to forgiveness. You can't imagine how cheerful I'm that you're joining my court and my family."

She let herself go and smiled. Her bright irises made her eyes shine like the sun over the sea. A sea Espio could gaze at himself in. Before he could drown into them, that marvelous sight vanished in the lady's kind gesture of wiping a small tear away with a silk handkerchief.

The mother's sob brought Espio's attention back to the duel. An unarmed Racitro was drawing back. His sword was lying in the dust.

Espio suppressed his impulse to leap up and kept stuck on his chair. Dang. I missed it.

Racitro held the shield with both hands and hurled it like a weapon against the bear. Halfway between Racitro and the sword, the beast didn't move back, but opened its jaws wide and tried to bite Racitro in the right leg. Racitro drew back and dealt a blow with the shield at the level of the beast right eye. The beast whined and withdrew three steps. Racitro rushed to reach the sword. But the bear kicked the sword with the hind leg and kept it far from Racitro's clutches.

The beast advanced and dealt a swipe with a paw. Racitro interposed his shield. The claws of the beast slashed the Lion in a metallic cawing. Racitro turned his back to the bear and ran away like a coward. The bear ran after him.

"Stop it, please. I beg you", that hiccough came out of Veneramanda's sensual lips. Espio locked eyes with her, in time to see the waves foaming on her lower eyelids.

Do you really mean it? "Are you aware that if put an end to this duel, Racitro will be declared loser? Do you really think that's what he wants?"

Two rivulets trickled down her powdered cheeks. With the softness befitting the everflowers petals, and giving forth an even more bewitching fragrance, she caressed his left hand.

"I'll do it."

She tightened Espio's hand and smiled again. Espio addressed a servant. "You. Tell the herald to put an end to this battle. It's way too dangerous and it's not my intention to put at risk the safety of my brother, the Prince. Declare the bear as winner."

Espio resumed enjoying Veneramanda's hold. Her eyes filled with light.

I'm sorry for you, my dear. When Racitro knows that you cost him his victory and his Arena, he won't declare his love for you anymore. He'll repudiate you on the altar of his wounded honor. And, along with you, he'll lose his only remaining chance of overthrowing me.

The herald requested the commoners to fall silent. "By command of the King, the duel has to be ended right now."

Barrage of whistles.

I willingly pay the penalty for your humiliation, brother.

"The bear is declared Champion because Prince Racitro isn't in the conditions to continue this battle. The King wants his brother to survive."

Racitro persisted in running away. The portcullis started rattling and a bunch of seven trainers appeared on the battle field to rescue Racitro, thenceforth deprived of titles and honors.

Racitro kept on running in circle and outdistanced the bear. He turned towards the middle of the battle field, rolled on the ground and picked up the sword.

"Woooooo", Racitro shouted.

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro", the donkeys brayed as they saw the carrot.

Espio shook his head and Veneramanda did the same.

"Why?" She said.

To contradict me once again. Or to feed his immoderate pride. "See, my dear? That's what's in store for you if you agree to marry him. The Arena is what he loves the most. The Arena will always come first."

She withdrew her hand from his. She looked away and stared at the floor.

I feel sorry for you.

Racitro assailed with a lateral blow. The bear dodged it, but the subsequent blow wounded the beast on the left foreleg. The blood dripped out in gushes and the bear whined with a choked roar. Racitro cut off its right ear with a lateral blow. The black appendage fell on the ground like a dead leaf.

"Woooooo", Racitro was more animal than the beast before him.

The bear moved back, but it tripped over a hole. Racitro snuck up behind the bear. He lowered the sword, straight into its neck.

Espio let his arms flop.

There. He won as usual. And he did it with much more drama, putting me in a bad light, among other things.

A relieved Veneramanda jumped up, and so did Espio's mother and the commoners. A thunderous round of applause greeted Racitro's victory. Espio covered his eyes.

Racitro raised his sword to the sky. The rivulets of blood traced thick stripes along the sword and trickled on his armet.

I can't believe we were taught the same manners.

"Racitro knew he wouldn't lose", Veneramanda said to Espio's mother.

The two women skipped and, as cold comfort, Espio could enjoy the bouncing of the curvaceous lady's breast.

Sweaty and oppressed in his chest, Espio puffed. Veneramanda's radiant eyes stared at him.

She wants me to fulfill the promise I unwisely made her.

Espio sighed, but the unpleasant feeling, he had been pervaded by, annoyed him in an even more oppressive way. "I'll fulfill my duties."

Veneramanda's face brightened up around her adoring eyes.

Espio stood up from his throne and walked towards the horn greeted by loud boos. The herald peeked at Espio with puzzled expression. Espio beckoned him to move away. The herald hightailed. Espio asked for silence.

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

His brother raised his sword to spur the commoners. Espio stared at Racitro, who glanced back and slipped off the armet.

I can't do it.

"Here is your winner. Still champion after six, four and fourteen. My brother, Prince Racitro."

"Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

"Before all of you leave for you homes, I have to make another announcement", the commoners quietened down. "I undertook a promise I must fulfill", he turned towards Veneramanda. "Please, come here."

The lady stood up and held her dress train with her trembling hands. Nonetheless, she walked along the bleachers with admirable grace. Her father's eyes brightened and he thrilled, getting more and more excited than his daughter.

"For those of you who had not the honor of getting acquainted with her, it is with great pleasure that I introduce to you Veneramanda Toriad, daughter of the vassal Caiano Toriad of Rigas Mausir, a good friend of mine and a great ally. It is thanks to them that frogs and fishes abound on our tables", the commoners remonstrated.

Espio turned towards Veneramanda.

She only has eyes for Racitro now. And he returns.

"I undertook a solemn duty with this lady who comes from the sea which makes the night fall on us", a rivulet of sweat trickled down Espio's forehead.

"Let me stand with great joy as herald to announce you that Veneramanda here will soon get married with..."

He...has winked at her. "Me, your King."

### Chapter 9 - Racitro

His sword clanked on the ground. Deprived of any strength, he couldn't even clench his fingers.

Racitro looked at her, the lady who had ignited the ardor of love in his heart; then, looked at him, the infamous rogue taking delight from oppressing him, who had taken her away from him.

You're not my brother.

Racitro stared at sweet Veneramanda; she was looking around, wan in her face, looking for help, for escape.

Racitro's heart throbbed once and once only. He shut his eyes, but couldn't choke tears back.

Racitro stared at Espio. Hot flushes spread through his limbs, as cold and clammy droplets of sweat trickled down his back.

Espio smiled and hugged Veneramanda and Caiano. From time to time, he looked at Racitro with wary, though persistent, gloating peeks.

Racitro gasped like a bull ready to charge. He clenched his fists so strongly that his fingers turned white and started tingling. He fell on his knees and picked up the lost sword.

The blood of the bear can't quench my thirst. Yours will.

He held the sword by the strong. He raised it over his shoulder. He held it like a javelin. He aimed at Espio. He took a gasp.

No. He must die. I can't wound him lightly. I must be sure to pierce him. Nobody must stand between my sword and his heart.

He moved towards the portcullis with rumbling steps. As he got there, the spikes were still at the level of his pelvis. He punched one of the iron bars and bent it the same way he would have liked to see Espio's neck bend. In the dark tunnel, far from Espio's eyes, his heart started throbbing wildly. He ran paying no attention to where he was putting his feet and didn't stop a moment in the locker room. He slipped the steel gloves off his hands and, sweat-soaked and blood-dirtied, he broke down the door to the staircase. He climbed three steps at a time till he reached the Sapphire Palace door. He brandished the sword and ran his fingers on the still warm blood rivulets. He put his blood-dirtied fingers to the nose and was inebriated by the blood acrid scent. Guarding the door, there were not either Silvaco, or Graunio to tear out the guts to.

He broke down one of the quadrangular panels of the door with a punch. His knuckle flared up, craving to smash against Espio's cheek.

Once in the aisle, some quick steps closed the distance behind him. Casl overtook him.

"Prince. Where are you going?"

Racitro didn't answer. He twirled the sword aiming at Casl, but the man persisted in getting in Racitro's way.

"I've already seen that kind of glower on your face. You want to kill the King, right? Nothing good can come from it."

Racitro pushed Casl away. He got Casl out of his sight, but not out of his back.

"I can read in your eyes how much you love her, Prince. And I know what you feel now. Do you remember what your brother did to force me to battle against you? The love is a weakness your brother knows how to take advantage of. Don't let anger drive your actions. That's what your brother wants", Racitro puffed. "It's what he wants."

Racitro turned around. He grabbed Casl by the throat with the left hand. He pushed him against the wall. He lifted Casl up and enjoyed strangling him.

Casl's eyes rolled upwards. Racitro put his sword point under Casl's chin.

"Me...she..." Racitro didn't utter any other word.

Casl's jaw opened. "She should have been your Queen. But she won't. She'll be your brother's Queen. If you go to him now, you won't get your revenge. You'll lose her forever."

Racitro withdrew the sword, clenched his fingers around the hilt and charged a punch he wanted to smash against his friend's nose.

Your words hurt me more than a sword just sharpened on the whetstone. But...none of this is your fault.

He let go Casl. Back against the wall, Casl slipped towards the ground and started wheezing.

Racitro's knees shuddered, but he stood on his feet. He squinted and clenched both fists. "He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have dared to do that. I want to get back at him."

Casl laid his hand on Racitro's shoulder. "And you will", Racitro stared at Casl, who could barely keep his head high. "But at the right time. And when that time comes, he'll have you to answer to for his wrongdoings. That day, you'll sit on the throne of Ridget. And Veneramanda will sit on your left."

Casl bowed. "I'm with you, Majesty."

Racitro nodded. I've been waiting too long and in vain for that day to come. I'm sorry, Casl. I appreciate your efforts. But when I ascend the throne, I'll do it dirtying my hands of Espio's blood. And I don't see a more favorable day than today. "I think I should clean myself up."

Casl sighed and leaned forward. "Good."

Racitro climbed up the stairs, controlling his steps and his breaths not to make Casl suspicious.

Racitro passed by his own apartments and walked towards Espio's ones. A thick flock of courtiers, crowded in the aisle in front of the royal apartments, was already busy twittering in fervent wait of the two betrothed.

Racitro searched for them, but he didn't see either Espio, or Veneramanda. He threaded his way through that unbridled opulence of sequins and laces. A male voice, Racitro didn't recognize, addressed him. Whoever he had been, Racitro ignored him and the call was drowned out by noblewomen's chackling sighs. Maruoco Gariant smiled at Racitro and stretched his hand, trying to pat Racitro on the shoulder. Racitro passed by, but Merete sprang up before him. That thick black beard he had grown served him to divert the attention away from those mean black eyes, which were rejoicing of that ignominy certainly Merete had had a part in.

"Oh, Prince", Merete said with his forked tongue. "I'm glad to see you've come as soon as possible to pay your homage to his Majesty and to Princess Veneramanda for their imminent wedding."

I won't even bother to choke you. You're just a rat I can tread with a glance.

Racitro challenged Merete's eyes. Merete looked away and gazed at the sword. Racitro raised it. Merete's neck tilted according to the sword movement. Racitro aimed at Merete's precious hooked nose. Merete leaped backwards three times. He stood behind two courtiers. But it wasn't enough. Those black eyes pleaded for somebody's help on right first, then on left. But nobody answered.

"Get lost", Racitro said.

Merete vanished among the noblewomen's fluttering trains. Racitro was surrounded by the ladies.

"Congratulations, Prince", Flania, the boot-licker, said. "You're so strong. Four worlds, but not a beast that can match up with you."

"And what about you, Prince? Are you thinking about an engagement?" Maire said.

Clear off, you geese. I'm not the chick you want to feed.

Racitro threaded his way through them. The ladies looked indignant, but, at least, they opened in two sides.

Espio's study door opened, but it was Racitro's mother who came out. Racitro stopped right where he was.

For Eristoph's sake. Not her. She'll get in the way, if I allow her.

Racitro turned on his heel, bowed his head and tried to blend into the crowd. His mother reached him well before he could get safe. Racitro made the mistake of looking her in the eyes. But he didn't find any bliss in her eyes. Actually, they were languishing.

Does-Does she feel sorry for me? No, not her. She has always been on Espio's side.

"Follow me", his mother raised train and heels towards the room next to Espio's study.

Racitro hesitated. He looked at the study door that someone had just closed.

"Racitro", his mother stamped her feet and went back to take him. She seized Racitro's left hand. Despite his hand was blood stained, she didn't horrify at all. Racitro turned his wrist, trying to free his hand from her hold. She held him despite the grimace of pain which flashed on her face. Racitro surrendered and let her tug him to the next room door.

Once crossed the threshold, his mother forced him inside and locked the door. Racitro gazed at the inner door communicating with Espio's study.

Does that mean you want to help me, mum? After so many years, finally, do you acknowledge my brother's abuses and will let me get justice?

"Sit down, I beg you", she sat at a small round table. She casted a pleading glance on him. Racitro didn't obey and didn't sit on the stuffed chair at the other side of the table.

How dumb I'm. You've sided with him once again.

He faced his mother's dazed eyes, hoping to find that doubt which would allow him to rush at the door handle, not leaving her chance of getting in his way. His mother stared back at Racitro for a few moments. Then, she started back grizzling and hid her face behind her scrawny fingers and painted nails.

Racitro moved a step towards the door. Her hiccoughs, combined with her wails, rang in his ears stronger and stronger. After three steps, he was forced to plug his ears. He turned around and looked at her. She raised her head and showed her powdered face and her purple-red cheeks. She pressed her chin in her chest, making her tears trickle inside the white dress golden hemmed neckline. Her hiccoughs got louder. Racitro lowered that sword he had never sheathed till then. He felt his ferocity dampen in his chest. His legs trembled, heading for the door, but he couldn't disobey her.

The chair creaked as Racitro sank into it. He laid his sword on the mahogany table. The blood of the bear oozed on the table decorated surface.

His mother hiccupped for a good minute. Racitro didn't breathe a single word. She seized his hands. "I know how you loved her."

"I love her. And she loves me."

"I'm so sorry", she held his hands tight. "I didn't know you two were competing for lady Veneramanda's heart", her eyes brightened up. "You two...my sons...always competing on everything."

"She should have been my Queen."

"And Queen she will be. Of your brother's heart, or, at least, of his Kingdom."

Racitro slipped his hands off his mother's hold. "She doesn't love Espio. She loves me. She must marry me."

Racitro stood up. The chair crashed on the ground. Racitro grasped the sword, but his mother's thin fingers seized the sword by the cutting edge and clenched around it.

"Come on. Take your sword. If you want to put my son to the sword, you must put me to the sword before."

I'm your son, too.

"Come on. Do it, I beg you. Give vent to your anger on me and let your heart heal your wounds, my dear", she bent her head, grinded her teeth and squeezed her fingers around the sword. Two rivulets of blood dribbled out of her fists, but she didn't loosen her tight. She looked at him with eyes full of despair. Racitro gazed at those scrawny trembling hands more and more flooded with blood. He thrilled. His right arm started tingling and his knees shuddered. He left hold of the sword.

"Mother", Racitro separated her hands from the sword. He wrapped her in a strong hug. She nestled her head on his shoulder and cried.

Racitro raised her chin to stare at her in the eyes. But her cheeks were tinged in an unnatural pallor. All in a sudden, her reddened eyes shut. Her neck tilted on the left.

No.

Racitro laid her against the seat back and contemplated for a few moments her lost expression.

He ran to the door, he opened it wide and shouted. "The archiater. Where's the archiater? The Queen is wounded. Go get the archiater."

Once treated by the archiater, the mother was brought in her apartments to get some rest. A cortège of bleating and unsatisfied ladies swarmed after her.

Sword sheathed, Racitro was just ten Steps away from Espio's study door; only two courtiers were separating him from putting a hand on the handle.

I'd better avoid a confrontation with Espio after what has occurred with mum.

The study door opened. Caiano Toriad came out. Veneramanda's father goggled, certainly incredulous nobody was waiting for him outside the study. The two courtiers left in the aisle approached Caiano and wanted to shake their hands with the man who had accomplished the feat of marrying his daughter to the King.

Racitro turned around, but some very quick steps approached him. Caiano held him by the shoulder. He looked jocund and puffed his chest out.

"I can call you nephew, Prince", he had the courtesy of bowing before Racitro.

Racitro feigned a smile. "Where are the betrothed? I have not got the chance to pay my homage to them yet."

"They felt sufficiently honored for today and took their leave of their subjects. Buy you could meet them separately, if you'd like. I guess my daughter has come back to her apartments. Now that she's going to be Queen, she has to spend much time along with the tailors, so that they could sew some dresses befitting her new status. I can already picture her wearing those ravishing dresses your mother uses to wear."

I wonder what Veneramanda is really thinking about all of this. Will she be glad to see me?

He knocked on Veneramanda's door. One of the tailors opened the door.

"I need to see Princess Veneramanda."

"We too, Prince", she pulled a disgusted face and held her nose. "The Princess left as soon as she had come back in her apartments. The guards are already busy searching for her."

I don't blame her. Where could she have gone?

A herald no older than ten tripped over Racitro's feet.

"My P-Prince", he bowed. He kept on breathing his words towards Racitro's feet with trembling voice. "The King w-would like to have a c-consultation w-with you."

Are you asking for it, Espio? "Where?"

"The t-throne room."

Without making himself look good and with his fingers still stained with the bear and his mother's blood, Racitro entered the staircase leading to the ground floor. He passed by two Rigas Mausir's guards. At the bottom of the staircase, a cloaked man, Racitro wouldn't otherwise have noticed, put a piece of parchment under Racitro's nose. Racitro snatched it out of those scrawny fingers and yellowed nails. Racitro tried to peek under the cloak, but the man kept on climbing the stairs up. Either he never turned around, or hesitated.

Racitro looked at the parchment and deployed it.

'Kill him.' Who does he mean? Espio? How could he know where I'm going?

Racitro raised his head. He climbed the stairs up. He found only the two guards on the payroll of Toriads.

He's vanished. As fleeting as the message he has delivered me.

Once at the throne room door, Racitro found Silvaco and Graunio stationed outside.

"We were waiting for you, Prince", Silvaco said.

Silvaco opened the door. The two guards entered before Racitro and leaded him towards the throne. The flapping of the swords sheathes on their armors echoed amid the naves.

They are both holding their hands on their swords.

Racitro looked at the throne. Cozied up on the throne, as was his wont, Espio was wearing a clean and scented green and gold tunic. Espio casted an overbearing glance on Racitro. Silvaco and Graunio halted before the predella and turned around.

"Even if you're the Prince and brother of His Majesty, as captain of the royal guards, I can't allow you to stand before the King in possession of a weapon. Not even in case you keep it sheathed as it is now."

Racitro stared at Espio. As if I needed a sword to kill you.

Racitro sneered. Fine. Let's play along with you. I'll throw my sword to the ground and these two dumbs, you call guards, will bow to pick it up. I'll smash their skulls one against the other. Then, nobody will stand between you and your penalty.

Before Racitro could seize his sword, Espio made the hard effort of standing up from the throne. He grabbed his tunic edges like a lady and climbed down the predella steps. He stationed one Step behind the guards, his impenitent face in plain sight between the two henchmen's solid steel pauldrons. "My dear brother. First of all, I'd like to extend my praise to you for your surprising and elating win in the Arena. You managed to defeat a beast heavier than you and that's no small thing."

Spit your poison. We're here for Veneramanda, not for these nonsenses.

"The sword", Silvaco took advantage of Espio's break and stretched a steel covered claw. Racitro put his hand on the sword belt. Then, he stared at Espio. "Why have you summoned me? Certainly not to share your appreciations about my win. Oh, sure. You're so courteous because you hope I'll pay homage to you for taking the woman I love away from me."

Graunio raised an eyebrow.

"You're insulting the King", Silvaco said. "A King is not tarnished by taking something away from someone. Because that thing belongs to the King by right."

If I can't have Espio's head, I'll settle for yours.

"Calm down, Silvaco", Espio said. "Even if Racitro here is not often accustomed to good manners, he remains my brother and your Prince. Anyway, I'd like to clarify that my love for lady Veneramanda is authentic and genuine."

"You're a liar", Racitro's shout echoed amid the vaults. "I'm glad good Graunio is here. Because he's the greatest drunkard and gossipmonger who has ever worn the Lion's armor. And guess why? Because tomorrow morning the entire Kingdom will know I slept with your Queen-to-be in your own bed."

Graunio was on the verge of laughing. Silvaco turned pale.

Espio, as always, sneered. "I'm glad you touched upon it, Racitro. Because that's why I summoned you. I know which kind of ardor sets your feelings for lady Veneramanda on fire and I want you to do me a favor."

After what you've done, you dare ask me a favor?

"Well, it has been established that our wedding will take place in the Temple of Eristoph within three lunarquarters from today. What I'd like you to do is to carry our chains of heart along the temple nave, before the entire court and the most distinguished representatives of the commoners, in the happiest day of our lives", Racitro wheezed. "Lastly, I'd like you to seal our love by breaking the heart-key."

Racitro stared at him. He rubbed his right hand fingers on the thumb, cleaning them of his mother's dried blood. His hand got closer to the sword.

Kill him. Just kill him.

He unsheathed the sword. Silvaco and Graunio did the same. Espio drew back.

"You're nothing more than a stinking traitor", Silvaco said.

Racitro smiled at him. "En garde."

"Cut it out", Silvaco and Graunio disregarded Espio's plea. "It's your King who commands you."

Silvaco seemed not intentioned to comply with Espio's orders. However, he drew back and stretched a hand towards Graunio, who desisted. Silvaco spat on Racitro's feet. "He's not your brother. He's insulting you, Majesty. Allow us to give him what he deserves."

"No, Silvaco. My brother has all my sympathy. I beg you, you all sheathe your swords."

Graunio did it, but Silvaco didn't. "I won't sheathe my sword before him. I don't trust you, traitor."

"Do you really think I'm that idiot?" Racitro said.

Espio stretched his hands forward. "Racitro. I'm not commanding as your King. I'm asking as your brother. Sheathe your sword."

I have no brothers.

Espio climbed up on the predella in a disrespectful manner and sank his buttocks into the throne. "I know lady Veneramanda has vanished. Why don't you go find her? I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

Veneramanda...Why am I here, going along with this incoherent staging my brother has set up only for his own delight, when the only thing we both need is our mutual consolation?

Racitro drew five steps back and lowered the sword. He unsheathed it only when he had crossed the door.

Racitro asked courtiers and servants. Nobody gave him information useful enough to find Veneramanda. Caiano had given all his guards orders to find his daughter, but at the moonrise, nobody had found the smallest trace of that salubrious scent of flowers given forth by the lady's silky hair.

Racitro stretched out on his bed sheets and contemplated the ceiling.

I need you, Veneramanda. Where are you hiding? Didn't you do a thoughtless act as the one I was about to do?

His back started itching. Racitro stood up. He left the bedroom, looking for a breath of fresh air.

As he ran along the aisle, he heard a pair of guards who, for the fourth of fifth time, were busy searching inside uncle Livinio's bedroom.

"Rumor has it that the King's brother has had an affair with the Queen-to-be."

"Do you think Prince Racitro has kidnapped her?"

"We already searched three times in his apartments. And, however, rumor has it that they are accustomed to consummate their passion in the King's bed."

One of them laughed. "Has someone searched in the King's apartments?"

"No."

"Then, they must be there. That's the only place we have not searched in yet."

Well, well. Good old and reliable Graunio has already spread the gossip.

Racitro looked out of the window and contemplated the persistent gleams coming from the Arena bleachers. He walked towards the tower. Along the way, he met no more than three guards, not busy at all in the search.

He climbed up on the tower. As he put a foot on the ladder he heard a whispered hiccough. He opened the dormer wooden door and found Veneramanda. The lady wiped the tears beading her face away with her gentle hands. She nodded and let out a hiccough. Her eyes brightened up like the stars that night missing. Veneramanda wrapped her arms around Racitro's neck and he hugged her.

"Racitro", she tightened up her hug.

"Veneramanda", he nestled her head on his shoulder.

Racitro sat down on the small terrace. Despite her vigorous tight, every curve of her body was shivering. Indeed, she was wearing the same light silk and laces dress she was wearing during the duel.

"And you...how are you?" Racitro caressed her chilled back.

"I feel good, but only because you're here. I saw my disappearance aroused ferment in the palace. They've been busy searching for me in the most strange and forgotten place inside this castle. But you're the one who found me. That's a sign."

A sign which is an end in itself, unfortunately. "Are you going to marry Espio?"

She looked away, her eyes gazing beyond the castle walls. Towards home, towards that same freedom Racitro was dreaming. "Not because I want. But because I have to. You don't know how many eyes full of envy I had on me this afternoon. Every lady...no, every girl of this Kingdom has reason to be envious of me. I would gladly give up all the luxuries and comfortableness if I could lavish the burden of marrying your brother to another woman and live with you for the rest of my life."

Racitro seized her chin and kissed her. A minute later, he opened his eyes. The tears were disappeared from Veneramanda's cheeks and eyes.

"I really would like to oppose your brother's will, but I can't oppose my father's will too. He brought me to Ridget to marry me with one of you, did you know? But he married me to the wrong one. The one I don't love, the one who doesn't love me and who doesn't deserve me."

"Then, what about eloping? You know how much I love you. I'll be willing to give up my claim to the throne and my championship crown if I can stay by your side."

She looked away. "You are not clear-headed. I think that's what, deep down, your brother is hoping we'll do. He knows I hate him. He's way too smart for not getting it. Did you meet him today?"

"Of course. And, lastly...he asked me to find you."

"That's exactly what I was suspecting. I spent the entire afternoon wondering why your brother had decided to stick his neck out that way. He knew that you, being so valiant and sentimental, would propose me to elope with you. But, if we elope, I'm sure your brother won't do anything to stop us, because, if we succeed, you won't be a threat for his throne anymore."

"So, that's why he asked me the favor of carrying the chains of heart along the Temple of Eristoph nave and sealing your fake love by breaking the heart-key. His intention was to make me envision a humiliation which could have driven me to ask you to elope. But which kind of alternatives will we have if we stay? If I stay, I'll lose you, you'll be married with him."

Veneramanda looked away, beyond the walls, and, maybe, the horizon. After a chill gust of wind from west, she said. "The entire courts of Ridget and Rigas Mausir will be attending the wedding. That's a golden opportunity to put into effect the most satiating revenge", she stared at him. "You must go along with your brother's desires, no matter how demeaning those assignments will seem. You'll carry the chains of heart along the Temple of Eristoph nave, even walking on your knees on the pebbles if so your brother wants. You'll lock the chains of heart around our necks and break the heart-key", she seized his hand and looked straight in his eyes. "But, as long as we are together on that altar, we'll stare at each other. Our eyes will be glued, in love, engaged, inseparable. We'll discredit the falsehood behind those chains and we'll humiliate your brother to the point nobody will never remember you were subjected to those tortures."

That's why I love you.

### Chapter 10 - Espio

The squirrel-snouted tailor stretched the measuring tape from Espio's right armpit to the wrist. Not pleased enough, he clutched Espio's right arm with his ungainly talons and imposed Espio to keep the arm in a horizontal position. Then, he raised also Espio's left arm and obliged Espio to spread the legs. Espio pattered with the slipper on the stone floor. The tailor seized him by the collar and tugged.

This acrimonious being has been using me as I was a rag puppet since the dawn. And with the sole purpose of getting fitting measurements to sew me a suit for a wedding ceremony that will never be held if my plans succeed.

Someone knocked on the door. Sat at a small table, with her hands heavily bandaged, Espio's mother leaped up and headed for the door.

"The King can't waste his time listening at you", the mother said. "Come back later."

"I bring news of the utmost importance which will make you glad, my Queen", Silvaco said.

Espio turned his head to the door. "Mother, let him come in."

The tailor seized Espio's chin with his callous hands and forced Espio to look at those dark brownish spots the tailor had on his bald skull.

"Then, tell us, what's so urgent?" the mother said.

"The traitor-I mean..." Silvaco bent his head and peeked at the Queen's face. "Your son...well, Racitro. He has found Veneramanda."

Espio let his arms flop on his sides. The tailor tightened his wrists, spread his arms and groused.

The two lovebirds should have taken flight by now. Either they are immoderately foolish or dangerously perspicacious. Or someone is helping them.

"That's cause for great bliss", the mother said. "I can't wait to talk with my daughter-in-law-to-be."

As she said that, she left Espio at the mercy of the malevolent tailor for three hours.

"Oh, you're so graceful, Majesty", uncle Livinio said. He had come in without announcing himself. He started browsing through the multicolored fabric samples the tailor had laid on Espio's, spread like wings, arms.

"Well, uncle, I hope you'll forgive me, but the protracting of this agony doesn't tempt me to converse about my future appearance in a wedding ceremony surely shorter than the afflicting obligation I'm undergoing", the tailor pierced Espio's wrist with a needle. Espio shook his hand. The tailor seized Espio's hand and cleared his throat.

How dare you show off that you're vexed?

"I don't see your other advisors", the uncle said. "But, I was persuaded you had summoned me for a special session of your royal council. If conversing about your suit doesn't please you, would you rather talk about the wedding preparations, instead?"

"Spare me those distressing matters, please", Espio said. "Let's talk about something more interesting. My brother's last triumphal challenge, for example. What's your feeling about it? I was really delighted by that battle and I yearn to know who, among you, my faithful advisors, had designated the bear as challenger?"

"I'm pleased that my choice had delighted you", the uncle said. "And I'm thankful for your praise."

An admission. "I'll take in very good account your ideas for the next challenges."

The mother came in. A dazzling smile was crossing her face. "I've just talked with your wife-to-be, my darling. As I guessed, she has been praying in the downstairs Eristoph's chapel all night long. She has even managed to elude the watch of the guard I sent there. She has been watering the flowers of life and praying Eristoph to give you strong and healthy children. I was hoping she would join us, but she is as busy with the tailor as you."

"Oh..." the uncle seized her arm. "She'll never be as pretty as you wearing the wedding gown."

"Come on", the mother said. "There are not many people who can remember how pretty I was at my wedding."

Eristoph spare me this agony.

As Espio was grappling with the cloying fabric choice for the suit, someone knocked on the door. Racitro announced himself and requested an audience with Espio.

Twice as suspicious. Five days have gone by since my request and, most of all, you never had scruples about 'requesting' an audience with me.

For once wearing silk instead of steel, Racitro came closer, keeping his head bent.

"Leave us alone", Espio said to the bystanders, including his mother.

Espio looked for a place to sit, but, due to his mother, all the seats were covered by a myriad of multicolored fabric samples come from the most disparate handlooms in the Rumianic world.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you either some wine or a modest seat where to converse, brother", Espio got closer to Racitro. "But I'm glad to see that you're learning how to pose like a real Prince, wearing befitting and scented suits, in the bargain. Is it jasmine?"

Racitro growled.

Far be it from me to think you know which kind of fragrance you have been perfumed with for this pantomime. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I've come to give you an answer about what you asked me five days past in the throne room. I want you to know that I feel honored to seal the sincere love sprung between you and lady Veneramanda. I'll be well pleased to put the chains around your necks and break the heart-key."

I truly admire the promptness with which the conspirator has sent you. Five days are the perfect time interval to calm the waters and not to lead me into suspect.

"Very well, then, you're greatly honoring me, brother. It has been reported to me that you found my spouse-to-be the night she had vanished without a trace. Can you tell me where she took shelter?"

Racitro rolled his eyes.

Ah, you have not been instructed about it.

"I found her in the Sapphire Palace Eristoph's chapel. She was busy watering the flowers of life and praying to give you strong and healthy children."

Where have I heard that before?

Forced to wait upright for more than an hour outside the Temple of Eristoph lateral portal, Espio started beseeching that the same God who was causing sores to his feet and abusing of his patience would give him a bit of relief.

Espio pattered his feet and puffed. Silvaco turned around and, for the twelfth time in an hour, went from the Temple of Eristoph to the Sapphire Palace in order to press the bride cortège to speed up.

Who knows, maybe she ran away with Racitro and, as revenge, they will leave me here, alone and sad the day of my wedding. No, it would be too good if it was true.

Espio put his hand on his neck, trying to relieve the itch caused by the tight collar. His gesture was emphasized by the bothersome jingling bells his mother wanted him to wear on the suit sleeves.

What a bright idea, mum. With all the bells, sequins and blooms I'm wearing, the bystanders won't easily distinguish who, between me and Veneramanda, is the bride.

Armpits and forehead drenched with sweat, Caiano Toriad appeared outside the temple. Despite being out of breath, he didn't forget to greet Espio with a pleased smile.

"Looks like you're raring to go, Majesty. Ah, and you have not seen my daughter wearing her wedding gown yet. I had a fainting fit looking at such splendor just thirty minutes past."

"Your daughter will be surely enchanting and, certainly, that's the reason why you proposed her to your King."

Caiano sneered. "Truth to be told, Majesty, I have to credit my daughter for this marriage. Ah...and Prince Livinio as well. We're long-standing friends, since long before you were born. He's the royal family member I have the strongest and closest relationships with. You know, he had been asking me to come to the capital so many times that, finally, he managed to persuade me on coming along with my daughter. You can't imagine how heartbroken were his letters and how in despair he was that his two nephews were both still bachelors."

My uncles' sudden concerns are rather suspect. Most of all, because such a heartbroken suffer is more common in a mother rather than in an uncle.

"I already gladly helped my heir Scelika to marry one of my vassals' scion, a really fascinating man."

"And what did my uncle tell you to overcome your remonstrations?"

"Well, he told me to come with my youngest daughter, assuring he'd have given her in marriage to Prince Racitro, at least", Are your apprehensions as disinterested as they look, uncle? "But I told him that my daughter was worthy of a King. And, as I was hoping, you have good taste."

A deep shared gasp placated the grumbles of the guests, who were already sat in all comforts on the padded pews inside the temple. His mother stuck her cheerful face out of the massive wooden door ajar and showed off a smile wide from dawn to dusk. "She's here."

"It's my duty to hold my daughter's hand", Caiano said and vanished.

Espio sighed and moved his first step under the portal. After such a long stillness, he discovered which kind of tension was affecting his muscles. A breath of air thick of incense blew on his face as he went ahead.

As he set foot in the side aisle, the guests were forced to stand up, leaving the relief under their buttocks, to pay homage to the King and Queen.

The blisters furrowed on his soles ached. Espio grinded his teeth and went ahead.

Once before the predella, Espio stopped and looked for the bride on the opposite aisle. She was on late even in moving just those ten Steps from the entrance to the predella. The consecrated in Eristoph officiating prelate shook the thurible, which stank out the air with a cloud of incense heading towards Espio.

Veneramanda appeared on the other side of the predella. She was wearing a dress clingy at the breast and loose at the hips, which barely hid the marked swaying of her hips and forced her to shuffle.

Was it her intention to hide her defloration?

Cheerful as usual, her father Caiano was holding her hand. Four bridesmaids were busy holding the bride's long immaculate dress train, which was dragging on the ground raising a thick cloud of dust.

Espio pattered at each step, vexed by the abstruse tradition of keeping the bride's pace.

They came before the consecrated in Eristoph prelate with just a little more swiftness. Espio stared at the prelate's thick black beard; the prelate's tyrannical lips allowed the guests to sit, but imposed to the King and Queen to stand up all through the wedding ceremony, so that their subjects could better admire them.

Espio dried his sweaty hands on the suit. He shook his hand in vain to dispel the incense plume which, for Eristoph's malevolence, was spreading in the air with the sole purpose of tormenting his nose. He turned towards Veneramanda, whose eyes were darting at least as much and even more than the incense plume, staring at all but his husband-to-be's face.

Among all of the ladies in this Temple today, I'm going to marry the only one who's not showing any joy on becoming my wife. And I only know how much I needed to marry a faithful and in love woman. But, perhaps, it's not too late.

After half of the ceremony had gone by, Veneramanda laid her blue eyes on Espio. He glanced back at her. She cracked a smile as Espio had taken her by surprise.

"Let bride and groom be chained together", the prelate said.

After such a huge suffering, here is the most sweet and, at the same time, bitter plate of this wedding.

Racitro appeared under the round arch portal and walked along the nave. His prominent shoulders crumpled the sleeves of his suit at any jerk of his arms.

Four worlds, but not a tailor able to sew you a made to measure suit, brother.

Racitro stepped on the predella. On the green velvet, golden hemmed, cushion in Racitro's hands, the two solid gold chains of heart were tied together with the sapphire heart-key, carved in the appropriate shape by the best goldsmith of the Kingdom of Ridget. Racitro put chains and cushion on the column of promise.

Espio glanced at Veneramanda. Those eyes, previously cold, displayed all the ardor she was capable of. But not for Espio. For Racitro, who was staring back at her with identical zeal.

Espio felt his cheeks flare up. His suit collar got, if possible, even tighter and stifling. A grin full of naughtiness appeared on Veneramanda's face. Racitro's grin was as coarse as hers, but much more pleased. It was emphasized by Racitro's fleeting pupil which, from time to time, swung towards Espio waiting for an unbecoming reaction.

Baffled mumbles and derisive sneers spread across the guests. Caiano's lips opened so wide that a pigeon could have nested inside them. The complicity, they persisted in staring at each other with, silenced the prelate. Espio kicked him in the shin, trying to force him to resume that spiel he had unwarily interrupted. At first, the prelate glanced irritated at Espio. Then, he giggled and cleared his throat as if nothing happened.

Full of despair, Espio turned towards his mother, who was cursing in silence.

Get up.

Laces fluttering in the wind, Espio's mother rushed on the predella and gripped Racitro by the ear. They started squabbling over the guests' mocking sniggers, the most aimed at Espio rather than at their row.

"Mother, my brother wants me to break the heart-key."

"You've already made an exhibition of yourself, Racitro. You've disgraced our family", the mother pulled Racitro's earlobe and dragged him out of the temple.

I give you my praise, brother. Once again, you humiliated me in public. But wait until you see what I have in store for you.

Someone touched Espio on the shoulder. Espio glanced at the prelate with such a contempt that the consecrated in Eristoph man drew two steps back. Espio shook his head and bowed in order to be enchained. The chain frosty kiss on the neck made him shiver, but, at the same time, relieved the irritated skin of his neck.

The prelate locked the chain around Espio's neck with the sapphire heart-key. Then, he seized the other end of the chain and pointed it towards Veneramanda. The lassie stared at the floor as she wanted to hide her blushed in embarrassment cheeks.

Racitro must have forced her to take part in that row. There must be innocence deep in her heart.

Not caring about the tradition, which forbad any contact between groom and bride, Espio seized her right hand. He bowed and kissed her on the back of the hand, wrapped in a white leathered glove. The lady neither withdrew her hand, nor returned his caring hold.

Espio released her hand. The prelate raised the chain of heart over her head.

Espio asked Silvaco to reach them on the predella. The guard lowered just a swing of hatchet. The sapphire heart-key broke in two parts. Each half fell on the spouses' chest, forming two delightsome pendants.

"Before Eristoph and His sons I pronounce you King and Queen."

At the end of the opulent thirteen-course feast, Espio was nibbling an indelicate and bitter slice of candied apples tart. He turned towards the seat on his right, which has not been occupied all through the feast.

Mum was afraid Racitro would have dared to seize Veneramanda's hand before my eyes. I might have challenged them to do it. I might have even ordered to set up a platform in the middle of the banquet room where to execute them for high treason. But, most of all, I might have forced you, treacherous snakes, who had laughed at my humiliation, to throw up everything you have been stuffing yourself with at my expenses.

Espio looked at the dead drunk uncle Livinio, whose head was lying in the dish, and noticed that the uncle's hair was dunked in the mustard sauce.

Can this really be the conspirator?

Espio peeked at Veneramanda. Wan in her face, the lady, freshly promoted to Queen, looked around. She had a bit of tart on the spoon in her hand, but looked reluctant to bring it at her provocative lips. Espio seized her white leathered gloved hand. The spoon she had in her hand clinked on the dish. Espio raised her hand, so that everybody could see them united in what had become the emblem of their phony love. Taught by Espio, Maruoco Gariant proposed a new toast.

Despite conceding her hand, Veneramanda didn't concede Espio her eyes. Espio caressed her chin and forced her to get closer. She paid attention with courtesy.

"Why did you do it?"

She withdrew and tried to free her hand from Espio's hold. He held her and the glove slipped off her fingers for the length of a phalanx. She tried to slip the glove on with the left hand, but Espio grabbed it as well and forced her to stare at him.

"I..." The usual monosyllables.

"Don't be scared", he caressed her hands to appease her anxieties. Then, he wrapped his left arm around her back.

"I..."

"Isn't the happiest day of your life?"

"I..."

"Come on, my beloved. Give me some words more. If you keep on talking with monosyllables, how will Racitro and you plot your next intrigues?"

"I...don't..." Love you?

A blade dug deep in Espio's chest and he looked away. "The only thing I was hoping for was to share the whole of my life with a worthy Queen. Unfortunately, I married the prettiest lady of the Kingdom of Ridget, and in all probability, of the entire Rumianic world. And you're as smart as pretty. I wonder which kind of sorcery my brother casted on you to make you so antagonized with respect to me. You know, he's envious. He wishes to be King. He dreams to sit on the throne in my place. But that right is mine, don't you believe?"

"Yes..." she cleared her throat. "I mean, if you were not the King, I wouldn't be the Queen."

I don't get if you are just a lovely fool or if you are playing. But, moreover, I don't know which of the two alternatives fascinates me the most.

Espio caressed her chin. She nestled on his shoulder. He caressed her left braid and persisted in tickling its tip. "Don't you understand how much pain you cause me with your behavior? Are you aware that if you look at Racitro the same way you did during the ceremony I could, against my will, wipe this beautiful smile off your pretty face?", his eyes met hers. "And I don't want to do that. I want to love you, Veneramanda. I want you to give me some children and I want them to grow up in our shared love. Will you do it for me, my beloved?"

She replied by tightening Espio's hold. "I'll do it for you, Majesty...No...My darling."

Espio kissed her. All around them, the goblets clinked, the hands rolled on the tables and someone began singing. Maruoco Gariant proposed another toast.

An hour after the moonrise, the most inveterate drunkards were still busy sucking the last droplets of wine from the barrels staves. Espio stood up and invited Veneramanda to follow him at the royal apartments. Once crossed the door, Espio lighted up the candles on the two candelabra placed on the chest of drawers beside the cozy nuptial bed. He seized his beloved's hand and let her sit on the immaculate sheets. Espio sat beside her and started caressing her arm till he reached her armpit. She smiled in appreciation.

After such a suffering and exhausting day, here I am at the time that will surely delight me the most.

"Is it your intention to consummate tonight according to tradition?" she said.

"It has been a long and, in many ways, unpleasant day. That's why I was hoping your grace would help me forget my worries."

"I beg your pardon", she hid her eyes behind her velvety hands as she was on the verge of crying.

"Please, don't do that", Espio seized both her wrists. "Why are you begging my pardon?"

"Because I entertained your brother in this very bed."

"Oh, but it's not the same. I had replaced both sheets and mattress. And, however, knowing that I'm not the first one who smells your blossoms doesn't make me upset, as long as I'll enjoy the fruits of those blossoms for the whole of my life."

She smiled. "You're romantic. I never suspected it. Your brother is curt, but I like the romantic men best."

"I'm pleased with it. So, are you going to give yourself?"

She turned her fairy eyes towards him. "With all my heart."

Espio's hand trembled searching for the uncountable laces of her sumptuous wedding dress. He got better of the knots on her back, but he couldn't slip one of her shoulders off the puffed sleeve due to an inextricable tangle which had come out of nowhere just under her armpit.

Your tailor needs a visit from Silvaco.

Once all the lateral knots had been undone and the peach-like skin of his wife was at Espio's fingertips, Veneramanda withdrew and stood up. Espio tried to hold her, but she shook her forefinger and lowered her dress all that was necessary to picture her breasts shapes. The lovely Queen threw her wedding veil. Then, she swayed her hips and the long white dress slipped along her sides. Espio undid his trousers in order to release the increasing pressure surrounding his groin.

With the thundering Veneramanda's moans of pleasure still ringing in his ears, Espio waited for her to fall asleep well-satisfied. Then, he drew apart from her tight hug around the diaphragm. He stared at her for just one moment while she was sleeping and fell enraptured by her innocence. He tried to caress her hair, but, worried to wake her, he desisted.

Naked and feeling a little chilly, Espio came before the armoire with a candelabrum in his hand. Through the doors, there was Racitro. The sudden gleam of light forced the prisoner and the jailer to blink.

The loyal Silvaco grabbed Racitro by the hair and raised his head by force. Racitro's lament was suffocated by the gag inside his mouth. Silvaco had bound him hand, foot and back to the chair and, for Espio's supreme delight, he had forced Racitro to witness the entire intercourse by means of a knife.

I wish I could have read you mind while I was having sex with your beloved.

"My dear brother, did you have a good time? Did your penis stiffen as you were spying on us? Good, because I'll have the honor to enjoy her fruits for the whole of my life and, as penalty for your licentious abuses, you will be there, every night, looking at us."

Eight days and as many pleasing nights after, Silvaco requested and audience with Espio.

"Tell me, Silvaco. What's the reason behind such urgency?" And I hope it's not your usual remonstrance about the unsuitability of the new recruits.

"I've heard some rumors, Majesty. The vassal of Rigas Mausir's guards asserted that a hooded man had approached Racitro the day that traitor had unsheathed his sword before you", Espio drummed his fingers on the table. "Well, that man had handed a piece of parchment to the traitor."

And so, the conspirator has made a mistake. "And do you know who the hooded man was?"

"I asked. But those same guards told me nothing about his identity. I suspect they are protecting him and that's the reason why I requested an audience with you, Majesty. I can't interrogate those guards without your consent, even more if I have to resort on debatable methods", he touched the whip secured to his belt.

"I can't allow you to interrogate those guards. My father-in-law may feel offended. As you know, he's leaving for Rigas Mausir tomorrow in the morning and I want to be sure he won't have any reason to be worried for his daughter's safety. And, however, wasn't it you who told me that guards jabber better than they hold the sword? If they had known the identity of the hooded man, surely you'd have known it by now."

"What's our next move, then?"

"Find that piece of parchment. I authorize you to search in every corner of the castle. Just use the appropriate discretion not to make the presumed conspirator suspicious. I think you know where to start from."

"I think you're talking about the traitor's apartments and the locker room, Majesty. I took the liberty of personally inspecting them before asking you. And I regret to inform you that we didn't find any piece of parchment among the traitor's personal belongings. A lunarcycle has gone by since then; surely, he has got rid of it."

"Your initiative makes me both astonished and cheerful", Espio said. "I suggested you this preliminary search because, given my brother's manifest foolishness, I was hoping to find it, but I wasn't really counting on it."

Espio paused a few moments just to enjoy the disappointed expression of his bloodthirsty hitman. "But, my dear Silvaco, if the piece of parchment does not exist anymore, it's, however, very probable that the parchment, that piece has been uprooted from, is still somewhere."

"What you're demanding is a long and meticulous search, Majesty."

"It won't be that hard", Espio said. "Start by inspecting Prince Livinio's and my mother's apartments. Search everywhere. Leaf, page by page, through all the books in their personal bookcases, if necessary. If you find a sheet of torn parchment, bring it to me."

Later, that same evening, Silvaco took care of uncle Livinio with his whip. One of the uncle's manual about the history of the Arena was lacking a shred of parchment in the first page. After the interrogatory, Silvaco came to report in Espio's study.

"Have you been persuasive?"

"As is my wont, Majesty. On the piece of parchment he handed to the traitor, Prince Livinio had written an encouragement with the intent of inciting the traitor to kill you. In this way, once the reigning was dead and the first in line of succession was accused of betrayal, the crown would have been inherited by his family branch."

I've been pondering all day long about the advantage you would have got by supporting Racitro's ascent to the throne, uncle. Truth is you've been shrewd to exploit my brother's claim for your benefit. And I've been extremely unwise over the last years. At least till today. I always thought this dispute for the crown was nothing more than a Racitro's caprice and I never thought that it could give rise to secret plots from others.

Veneramanda came in without announcing herself. She looked anxious; so anxious that she didn't notice the glass reliquary containing Livinio's brain, source of the calculated and subtle plots with which he had tried to overthrow Espio.

Silvaco hastened to cover the reliquary with a linen cloth.

"What's the reason behind such a great anxiety, my beloved?"

"We're soon having a baby."

Here's the solution to all my problems. I'm soon having an heir who will revolutionize the line of succession, pushing Racitro and my cousins away from the crown.

Espio stared at Veneramanda. As long as that baby is mine.

### Chapter 11 - Racitro

"I'd like you to be my King", Veneramanda said.

Naked from head to foot, she rubbed herself voluptuously against Racitro's hairy chest. Racitro enjoyed her shapes both with eyes and with hands. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and one of her long braids tickled him below the armpit.

"And what about this night? Have I been King or Prince?"

"King for one night. But I'd like you to be King of all my nights and of all the nights of the Kingdom of Ridget."

"And when I become King, will you be my Queen?"

"I'll always be Queen of Ridget. When a King dies, another one ascends the throne. And that applies also for my current husband."

Racitro ran his hand along her side from the thigh all the way up to her breast; Veneramanda appreciated with a moan and nestled against Racitro's contracted pectorals. Racitro plunged his face among her long black hair. He was inebriated by the scent of flowers and sea breeze Eristoph had given them.

"You know, before his time is up..." I always kept these thoughts for myself. I trust her, but I don't know who else is listening to us.

"Tell me, honey", she locked eyes with him. Then, she plunged her warm and moist lips on his neck. "Don't be afraid. Whisper me your innermost desires and I'll make them real."

"As I was saying..." Racitro let out a sigh. "I'd like to serve my brother his same dish."

"Don't you remember our first night together in your brother's bed? All the delight in looking at his pale face? You got as excited as I've ever been able to get you."

"What I meant was that we did it just once before him", Racitro took a break and got lost in her eyes, as he was on a boat drifting away in the shining sea. "You know, someday I'll kill him. But I'd like to rub the truth in his face, before it's too late."

And not only the truth.

"Wait till I tell him he's growing up and loving his brother's daughter", Veneramanda burst out in an adorable hearty laugh.

Racitro couldn't stifle a healthy and light-hearted laughter. "Ah, Clelia. I'm trying to instill in her small head the true identity of her father. I'm eagerly waiting for the day she'll make me proud calling me dad."

Maybe before Espio.

Veneramanda started nibbling at his right ear. Racitro took her by the sides and laid her on his belly. Then, he started kissing her on the neck.

"I'm so sorry you have to witness the ignominy that your brother perpetrates against you by abusing me every night. When I think that you're behind those doors, I wish I could stand up, snatch the knife out of Silvaco's hand and stab that pervert."

It'd be the most charming action you could do.

"You know I'm faking when I'm with him, don't you? That repugnant being can't satisfy me."

Nonetheless, you shout with pleasure when you have sex with him.

She seemed to read his mind. "Shouting of pleasure is part of my play. Your brother is naive and I must make him think he can trust me."

"My champion", she sat on his abdominals and ran her forefinger on her lips. "Your brother doesn't suspect he has put in his bed the viper which bite will deprive him of every good."

Veneramanda wore her dirty fishmonger rags. The stench given forth by those grayed rags covered the fragrances and essences given forth by her body.

"Clelia is waiting for me. She is with the wet-nurse now. But she's so smart that she can discern the quality of my milk. That's why I can't linger too much. She could be awake at this time, looking for satisfaction", she stared at Racitro. "She looks a lot like you. She's as possessive as you. She'll grow strong and, someday, she'll be Queen."

"I hope she'll be as pretty and adorable as you, my Queen."

She put her braids inside the dirty tunic and put the hood over her head.

Every time you go out of that door in the middle of the night I've reason to be worried for you. "Are you sure you don't want to come back to the Sapphire Palace along with me?"

"That's unnecessary", she moved one edge of her tunic away and showed the dagger tied at the belt. "I can take care of myself."

Veneramanda opened the door and halted on the door edge. She shot one last horny glance on him and ran her fingers along the warm cedar wood of the door with a slow and charming gesture. Then, she vanished after the closed door.

Racitro lighted up a Senducco's fuse of one hour length and waited until it was burnt for one third of its length.

There's no rush to come back to the Sapphire Palace or we could get caught by Espio. Uncle Livinio's recent death shows that we can never be too careful in times like this.

Racitro looked for his grease stained trousers and found them at the foot of the bed. Halfway between bed and door, he picked up his slaughter tunic full of bovine blood. Lastly, he slipped on his boots, with worn-out point and sole. The mix of nauseating stenches provoked him the impulse to vomit, but he managed to suppress it only because he had eaten many hours before. Nonetheless, he sat on the bed to take relief from the subsequent dizziness.

He went out of the room and chanced upon Esthal's hooked nose. Racitro laid on the counter a conspicuous tip of clinking gold coins to pay the room and the innkeeper's silence.

Racitro walked in the gloomy lanes of the Ridget's suburbs, where he couldn't move more than ten steps without treading on the creaking bottle shards lying on the gravelly ground. A light breeze blew away the pestering stench of the suits he was wearing.

Racitro climbed down a dried well in the middle of a courtyard at the back of a dive. The humidity trapped in the narrow and secret brick passage leading to the Sapphire Palace had stunk out the air with a rotten fish stench interspersed with Veneramanda's sweet flowers fragrance.

At the opposite end of the tunnel, Racitro smelled her pure essence lying on the cold metal rungs set among the bricks. He climbed on the ladder till he touched the trap door giving access to a room attended only by the laundresses and where, night after night, Veneramanda and he could find dirty rags.

He raised the trap door of no more than a nail's breadth. He peeked inside the room. Only the dim light of a moon not yet set allowed him to look around. Everything looked still, except for the foul-smelling vapors. Racitro raised the trap door and lifted out of the secret passage. He closed the trap door and reached an opening behind an armoire where he had hidden more befitting and scented suits. He packed the foul-smelling rags and put them among the other dirty rags, not too close to Veneramanda's fishmonger ones. He wore trousers and tunic in a hurry. Then, without even relying upon the light of a candle, he walked towards his apartments, eluding the, well-known to him, patrol of the guard.

He stretched out on his bed at the crack of dawn. In the courtyard before his window, the horse keepers were busy saddling the horses.

Racitro kicked under the sheets until he was awoken by the blare of trumpets. That was the signal Espio was on the verge of relieving the Sapphire Palace of his presence till at least the sunset. Along with Espio there were about twenty courtiers and six ladies, all eager to ride towards the King's game preserve.

Come one, come all to witness your King's laughable show as he strives to draw the bow. Because, unfortunately, there's no way he can kill the stag for the time being.

The western gate opened and the garrison leaded by Silvaco went out. Espio followed them and, just behind him, there was Maruoco Gariant, who had told Racitro how funny it was to see Espio striving to hunt the stag and with how much disarming timeliness he used to miss the target.

Racitro counted the courtiers one-by-one. Nobody is missing. And among them, there are some of the most distinguished informants in the payroll of Espio.

The trumpets blared again and the gate was closed. Though dead tired, Racitro stood up and started rubbing his body with a moist cloth.

He left his room only when he knew Espio was far enough. As he came in the wide aisles, he remembered why he so deeply hated the time of the year coinciding with Espio's birthday. There were festoon of the most various and unusual colors dangling between a capital and the next. The servants were busy polishing the bronze statues immortalizing the greatest King and warriors of the past. And, after the statue of his father, veiled under a green and gold velvety drape, there was the statue of Espio, which would be unveiled before the entire court no later than the next day.

"Prince", a guard interposed between Racitro and the statue. Since the sculptor had finished his work, Espio had ordered the guards to keep watch over the statue day and night, perhaps fearing Racitro could brutalize it and embarrass him at the time of the official unveiling.

If the artist is worthy of his reputation and if he properly reproduced your features, his work will be enough to hold you up to ridicule, my dear.

Racitro didn't linger more and reached the banquet room. He didn't stay there for more than the time necessary to seize a plate and have a sad breakfast with cheese, apples and chestnuts. He didn't chat to any courtiers or ladies.

It is sufficient they see me here and that they will witness I was here, if necessary.

He snuck out of the same door he and Veneramanda had run away the night they first met and reached the Sapphire Palace opposite wing. He came inside a room used by the horse keepers. The fetid stench of manure forced him to hold his nose. The hinges clinked as Racitro closed the door after himself. He had a hard time locking the door with the key. Then, he pulled a linen cloth out of his pocket and laid it over the handle, so that the keyhole was covered and nobody could peek inside the room.

He turned around and looked inside the room. Just a dim beam of light was entering from the small window. Racitro nodded at his contact, who was sat at a small table in one dark corner. The man raised his right hand. "Prince."

Racitro reached the table placed before the rack where the saddles were hanged. The uncomfortable chair he sat on was stuffed, but some goose feathers were peeping out of one corner. Racitro laid his hands on the table, clasped his fingers and stared at his interlocutor.

"Are you really sure our words won't be listened by any kind of indiscreet ear?"

"Unless the King is back to the castle before time, there's no reason to worry. This room is rarely used even by the horse keepers. I think we can take all the time we need."

"Don't you think one of the guards could walk before this room during his patrol?"

"Supervising guard rotations is one of my many tasks, as you should know", the man coughed. "I've changed the guard rotations so that none of them will walk before this room over the morning."

Racitro leaned against the seat back. "So, why are you whispering?"

"That's a good custom, Prince."

Prince. Always Prince. It's not the most befitting title someone who wants to take up my cause would address me with. "The Queen assured me about your support. But I wonder how she managed to persuade you. Can you fulfill my curiosity?"

The man sighed and blinked asynchronously. Then, he coughed twice and leaned forward, exposing to light the wrinkles marked on his face.

"The Queen told me about the horrific practices taking place in their nuptial bed. What she told me is so aberrant that..."

Racitro seized his hands and nodded. "Feel free to confide what she told you. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Celete nodded and the trembling of his callous hands diminished. "She told me that, to satisfy his own delight, the King allows another man to lie in the nuptial bed. And that's because..." Celete made a disgusted face. "He doesn't enjoy the female companionship only."

Ah, Veneramanda. Racitro sighed. I'm the man Espio uses to invite in the royal apartments, though not to share the nuptial bed with you. But, by means of your craftiness, you've managed to turn Espio into a pervert, playing on Celete's boundless aversion towards this kind of degenerations.

"Oh, the Queen didn't spare any detail about the King's practices. A King who is open to that kind of obscenities is unworthy of the crown. But that's not all", Celete took a long breath. It seemed he was torn about talking.

Racitro nodded.

"The Queen told me that, for most of the time, she is forced to witness the King debasing his masculinity. And that, once he has got satisfaction from this other man's member, often the King is way too satisfied and allows this third man to have sex with the Queen", Celete's voice got louder. "The Queen told me she is uncertain about Princess Clelia's paternity. Do you see how serious this situation is? A King unable to generate his descendants is unworthy of his title. What will happen if it turns out that the heir to the throne has not royal blood in her veins? Don't you think the people, and even the nobles, will dispute her rights and rise up against the House of Cilantes?"

"I'm as shocked and disgusted as you, Celete. I can't believe that this embarrassing vileness is true. Such practices are...against nature. I'll never ever take part in them", Racitro took a break. "But back to us, Celete. We're not here to discuss this."

"Right, Prince", Celete's right hand restarted trembling. "We've just one chance to overthrow the King from his throne. You should know what I'm talking about, but, just to be safe, I'm not going to tell what we both have in mind. However, this unpleasant occurrence can't take place in unnatural way, otherwise many will suspect your involvement. Your aims to the throne didn't go unnoticed among the courtiers. That's why it has to appear like an accident and, in my opinion, it has to happen when you'll be as far away as possible from the King. Anyway, Queen Veneramanda will be forced to swear before Eristoph that Clelia is not the King's daughter, because, at present, Princess Clelia comes before you in the line of succession."

"In this respect, do you think Queen Veneramanda will deal with some harsh consequences due to the adultery?"

"I checked, but I didn't find any precedent concerning adultery. As far as I know, if the adultery is perpetrated to the detriment of the King, the Queen will be accused of betrayal and executed. But, in this case, it was the King who agreed to the adultery. Therefore, he broke his sacred marriage vows sworn before Eristoph. And, however, we must not forget that the new King, that is you, will preside over the adultery trial."

Once King, I'll make your mother my Queen. Then, little Clelia, I'll restore your good name and your right of inheritance.

"You mentioned an accident. Nobody knows the King's habits as much as you. So, who better can arrange it?"

"We have to act with caution, and, most of all, with diligence. Once we agree about a plan, we'll have to implement it within a few days. The longer this drags out, the more the probability someone will blab something that could reach the King's ear. If that's the case, I, you and the Queen will end our days feeding the lions."

"Then, have you conceived a plan? What do you suggest me to do?"

"You have just to wait and be watchful. However, it will be good if you stop provoking futilely the King's rage, putting up your show to gain the people's sympathy. You already won their love and it's unnecessary to make further insubordinations against your brother's authority."

"But if I suddenly stop my usual customs, don't you think I'll draw Espio's attention?"

"Well, then. But try to restrain yourself. We can't allow your insubordinations to spread across the people."

"I agree. But, now, please, tell me how you wish to proceed. How will you concretely carry out his assassination?"

"I beg you. There's no reason to be that explicit", Celete put his forefinger to his lips. Then, he beckoned Racitro to get closer. Racitro leaned forward. "You certainly know about the King's new pastime: the hunt. And, you should know that hunting with horse is a pastime full of hidden dangers. He wouldn't be certainly the first King to fall off his horse..."

That night, Racitro fell asleep before Espio's return.

He was awoken by the blare of trumpets, certainly Espio wanted in spite of the time. Racitro got off his bed and went to the window to peek at Espio. A wagon came inside the courtyard. A stag carcass was lying on top. Nonetheless, Espio was riding far from it.

If it were up to you, Espio, we wouldn't eat anything more than fruits and vegetables at the royal table.

There were many snakes which came out in the courtyard to pay homage to Espio. Ascertained what he had to ascertain, Racitro fell asleep under the covers, hoping Espio was too tired to oblige him to witness the umpteenth rape on Veneramanda.

He was awoken again. This time by a persisting knocking on the door. He peeked out of the window, but the sky was still plenty of stars. He rolled over under the covers and looked towards the door.

Does this mean the cock woke up late tonight? Better to welcome Silvaco as befits him. "For Eristoph's sake. Who dares to disturb the Prince's sleep at such a late time? I swear I'll demand your head."

Racitro's shouting seemed to intimidate whoever was standing outside the room. A young herald answered with trembling voice. "P-Prince. It grieves me to disturb your sleep. I wouldn't dare, but I had a message from His Majesty. He asks you to come to the throne room as soon as possible."

And now what? What kind of sordid fantasy has that pervert conceived? What if he wants to rape Veneramanda directly on the throne, to outrage both the desires which give me ardor?

Racitro stood up and put on a robe and a pair of sandals. A shiver ran down his spine.

It could be an ambush. Maybe someone has blabbed.

He decided to hide a dagger inside one of the inner pockets of his robe.

The throne room decorated door was guarded by one guard only, who, in addition, looked dozing. Racitro passed by him and crossed the oak wooden door.

The throne room was empty and lightened by no more than a couple of candles held by a couple of servants surrounding the throne. There were only five guards before the throne. Sat as it was his wont, Espio was slouched on the throne, with his left elbow lying on the throne arm and a sneer Racitro had never seen before. Espio fiddled the goblet of wine he had in his right hand.

Racitro came before the predella and there halted. He didn't bow down, but yawned not bothering about covering his mouth. Espio didn't react, but Silvaco, being a loyal dog, turned up his nose, ready to growl, and put his hand on the sword hilt, making the sheathe wag.

Espio beckoned the cupbearer to fill his goblet. The visibly dozing girl rushed up on the steps. She stumbled in the third step and poured out some of that precious Angusta red nectar. Graunio reached her. He kicked her and the poor girl rolled down the steps. Then, Graunio took the whip.

"Tell me, Espio. What's the reason why you've summoned me so urgently? And so late."

"It grieves me to spoil your sleep, brother. But I wouldn't dare do it, if I didn't have something very important to discuss with you", Espio pulled a folded parchment out of his pocket and threw it on the steps. Racitro picked it up. Since the golden sealing wax had been broken, Racitro couldn't discern the coat of arms.

But gold stands for King.

Racitro deployed the missive. He noticed it had been signed by Queen Patrika of Endhora.

"It's the war, brother. And it's coming straight to our Kingdom borders."

"But if Endhora wanted to invade us, why would they take the trouble of letting us know earlier?"

"Ah, my kid brother. You know about politics as much as I know about sewing. Don't you understand that is not Endhora which is threatening us of invasion?" Racitro laid his eyes on the letter. "What Endhora is asking us is an alliance against a common enemy: Mellrose."

"Mellrose is hundreds of pink miles away from our borders. If you wish to know my opinion, I can only suggest you not to meddle in this war between Mellrose and Endhora."

Graunio uncovered the cupbearer's back, tied her wrists and started whipping her.

"In more propitious times, my dear servant, I wouldn't have whipped you for wasting some delicious wine", Espio said. "But what you poured out was what was left of the last wicker bottle in our pantry. And, if Mellrose will invade us, certainly, our lips won't enjoy it for a long time."

The girl cried, tears beading her eyes.

"Brother, if Eristoph allows Mellrose to conquer Endhora, we'll be sure He is not a compassionate God. If Endhora falls, we'll share its fate soon enough. Our military forces are lower than those of Endhora. We won't have way to oppose the advance of Mellrose."

"But we can't accept an alliance with Endhora. Don't you remember what they have done us over the past years? Many of our soldiers' parents died in the war with Endhora. Do you really think our soldiers will willingly accept to share the table with the children of who killed their parents? But what I can't figure out is why you've summoned me. If the situation is such critical, why don't you summon the generals?"

"Well, your presence here is the answer to your first objection and, in a sense, to your second one, too. I find myself in the impossibility of building an army which can defend our Kingdom. And this obliges me not to decline so light-heartedly Endhora's alliance offer", Espio raised his head. "But what about you?" Me? "You're strong and valiant and your reputation has crossed over our Kingdom borders, reaching Endhora, the Dams, and, certainly, Mellrose. The commoners love you, summon you, see you like a leader and, someday, even like a conqueror. There's no man in those peasants' hovels surrounding our town who doesn't dream to look like you, to live your feats, to follow in your footsteps. That's why I need your help. I think those men and women will be willing to follow in your footsteps even in battle if you lead them."

Are you really asking me to take the lead of an army I can use to overthrow you?

"Brother, I know what you long for. You were born from greatness and live for glory. Someday, the minstrels will narrate your feats in the same way as they narrate legends. That's why I summoned you. Time is running out. I'm officially asking you to take the lead of my army and, as our father used to spur us, support me and bring glory to my Kingdom."

If I get back from this war as winner I won't need any kind of plot to ascend the throne. People and nobles will take up my cause. Everyone will be willing to bow only and solely before me, the great warrior who leaded them to glory.

An unsatisfied Graunio persisted in abusing on the unfortunate cupbearer's back.

No. Wait a minute. The man standing before me is not Espio. He has never been so mellifluent with me. He must have an ulterior motive.

"Brother, allow me, on behalf of Eristoph, to sing the praises of your greatness in the Arena of Battles. Nobody has ever seen and will ever see a Champion worthier of his title than you. Your ability as a fighter is masterful. I would even go as far as to say that you'll be able to smite the enemy army fighting in the infantry. Think about it. At your command, thousands of men and women will be willing to follow you at breakneck pace in each of your sorties. Fight this war beside me, brother. Honor my House and bring glory to my Kingdom. Your name will echo forevermore not in one, but in four worlds."

My.

Graunio's whip cracked on the cupbearer's tortured back.

Here's the catch. No matter how well you try to sing my praises, your inveterate hauteur has betrayed you. You want me to do the dirty work, while you're slouched all the time on your throne, swallowing Angusta red wine.

Espio raised his hand and Graunio stopped whipping the cupbearer. Espio flung a gold coin and hit the girl on the forehead. "Take her away."

Graunio grabbed the girl by an arm and dragged her, scraping her wounded back on the pebbles along the nave. Racitro looked at how insistently Espio's left leg was trembling and at how his fingers were drumming on his right thigh.

You want to get rid of me. You are way too cultured and placid to utter random words. And you've mentioned the infantry. You want me to fight beside improvised soldiers barely able to properly hold a weapon. And, in the fortunate case in which I'm successful in the heroic feat you're demanding me to accomplish, certainly, you will corrupt one of those poor peasants I leaded in battle by swaying a couple of gold coins before his eyes. Or, perhaps, just by flinging the coins right between his eyes. The peasant will back stab me. And, as a glorious act of justice, certainly, you'll sentence that peasant, guilty of cowardly killing your brother, to feed the lions.

"Is that an order?"

"I'd never dare, brother. I leave the choice to you. Take your time and think thoroughly about it. Just remember that, in wartime, there won't be many sunsets we could peacefully fall asleep in."

I won't be taken in by your subterfuges. This time, I've been bolder than you and I've unmasked your subterfuges before you could put them into effect. And you know what? It has not been hard at all.

Racitro gloated and smiled. Silvaco gave him a dirty look. Espio didn't react. Graunio kicked out the cupbearer.

I must trust Veneramanda and Celete. And soon I'll ascend the throne, anyway. Only then, I'll take care of the problems related to this war. "I'm sorry, Espio. I'll support you if you demand it, but it's not my intention to fight this war in the front lines."

Racitro felt light. He turned his back to Espio and went back to bed.

### Chapter 12 - Espio

Espio waited for Celete to complete the close examination of Queen Patrika of Endhora's missive. Perhaps it was the feminine handwriting, perhaps the increasing shyness with which those small eyes peeped to light, but Celete took more than Espio had predicted to sift its content.

The elder raised his head. He looked at Espio, but hesitated for a few moments.

"You look hesitant", Espio said.

Celete swayed his hips in an awkward attempt to recover a graceful bearing. "And it couldn't be any different. In this letter, Patrika tackles the problem of an imminent war involving two Kingdoms which share with us just the mutual acrimony."

"Well then, which is your advice about it? Should we side with Endhora to prevent the coming of something worse?"

"The fact that you consider me the most qualified person to give you an advice about such a sensitive matter is honoring me. But I don't believe I have such a good experience to give you an expert advice. Instead, I better suggest you to broaden the discussion in order to get a wider examination of your choices before you opt to join our forces with a Kingdom that, you must not forget it, has always been our greatest opponent. We'll exploit the experience of generals, veterans and strategists. Am I really the first you've showed this letter to, if you please?"

"My brother took note of it. No more than ten people know."

"I guess you shared it with the Prince due to Queen Patrika of Endhora's request. And I guess that the reason why you've summoned me is that the Prince wisely rejected the offer."

"Wisely?"

"Don't misunderstand me, Majesty. What Endhora is proposing you is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, a tempting offer. But I exhort you to take a closer examination of the implied terms. In order to seal this supposed alliance, Queen Patrika is demanding your brother in hostage. She astutely disguised her own true purposes behind the semblances of a royal marriage between Prince Racitro and Endhora hereditary Princess Jana, but that's what she really wants", Celete tapped the forefinger on the parchment. "Don't let her deceive you. Our long-standing enemy's contradictory nature is disguised in their own poisonous words; and the memory of the last war between Ridget and Endhora, which, just forty-six years past, parted me from my father, stands fervent in my mind."

"I acknowledge that Patrika's request of taking Racitro as hostage at her court is far too pretentious. Nonetheless, Queen Patrika doesn't fear a war with the aim of deceiving me. We have eyes and ears in almost every Rumianic world plateau. And how many of them are whispering us, with regular frequency, and putting their own lives at risk, the same rumors Queen Patrika brought to our attention?", Espio sighed. "Endhora is right. But, most of all, Endhora is scared. And, quoting my ancestor, King Dracio, 'if Endhora trembles, Ridget must not be dead to the world."

Espio shared with Celete some of the last lunarquarter parchments. A handmade sketch, stolen by the desk of a weapon designer in Mellrose, stood out between the messages reporting number and deployment of the enemy troops.

"Mellrose has a mighty, and nearly unstoppable, army. Fifty thousand soldiers. And, most of all, cutting-edge war weapons we don't have any single quote in our literature. I know you're good at counting; so, can you remind me how many soldiers are enlisted in our army?"

Celete bent his head and started counting on his fingers. "By taking into account every vassal's garrison...Well. I think they are eleven thousands, maybe twelve."

"Very few. And if Endhora is asking us help is because they can't compete by themselves against Mellrose. We can conjecture that joining forces with Endhora will set our army to twenty-five thousand units."

"Still an exiguous number, and I don't see how such an alliance will reverse the outcome of this coming war", Celete knit an eyebrow. "I don't get you, Majesty. Certainly, you don't lack in cunning, and, surely, you have been spending a lot of time pondering on the same objection I've just pointed out. So, why have you insisted with your brother on marrying Princess Jana?"

Nothing escapes you, right?

"Truth to be told, Celete, I've never proposed Racitro a royal marriage."

Celete frowned.

"You should well know Racitro's real aims. Certainly, you know how he loves to be the Champion of the Arena and, even more, all the implied glory he gets with that title. And you should have heard gossips about his burning..." Espio cleared his throat. "Sentimental passions. And you should have even understood his tremendous desire of sitting on my throne in my place. The only life he has ever known, and he will ever enjoy, takes place within these walls. So, could you picture his reaction if I offered him a royal marriage with Princess Jana and the consequent move to Endhora's court? He would have lost his Championship title, the woman he loves, and the throne he has been battling for. And in exchange for what? In Endhora he would have been a foreign Prince forced to indulge each of his wife's whim without any chance to increase his power. Now, I think you understand why I wisely offered him something more attractive. Another kind of marriage. But a temporary one. With the army."

"I flattered him. I prefigured him the sempiternal glory of his sorties and future conquests. Hundreds, thousands actually, of people would have enlisted to the army just to emulate his feats."

But, as usual, Racitro has demonstrated, once again, which kind of egocentric stubborn he is.

"And, if I'm not wrong, you will appreciate if I take the burden of persuading him about the candor of you offer upon myself."

"Well, at this point, I don't think he will accept any kind of offer, either the army or the royal marriage. Just because he will know that that offer, despite being submitted by you, comes from me", Espio bent his head. "Among the many talents I'm the proud holder of, unfortunately, there's not the ability to stroke someone else's ego. I'm the King, after all. But, if you think you can make my intentions more desirable, then I exhort you to have a talk with him."

"I'll attempt, Majesty. But I exhort you, likewise, to reconsider this possible alliance with Endhora."

"Don't underestimate what we could get in exchange, Celete. Someday, one of my descendants could claim Endhora's throne thanks to the Cilantes' blood in Endhora's line and unify the two Kingdoms."

"Nonetheless, Endhora's descendants could claim Ridget's throne, too. And you couldn't make worst affront to your Kingdom, and to your credibility as King, than creating more aspirants to your throne."

In little Clelia's room, Espio's wife was busy jabbering with the wet-nurse about Ricon Gariant's flirts.

The wet-nurse greeted Espio with a bow. Veneramanda didn't deem him worthy of more than a short glance out of the corner of her eye.

"How are you, my beloved?"

"I'm good", Veneramanda said. Then, she forced a smile as she buttoned up her dressing gown. "Clelia has just eaten. She is getting stronger every day."

Is it a cryptic message with which you are trying to, equivocally, instill in my mind Clelia's real paternity?

Espio smiled at Veneramanda and sat beside Clelia's bed. The baby, wrapped in a linen dress with laces, was awake; but, looking at her father, she uttered not a sound. Instead, she started waving her small legs around and slipped out of the blanket.

I'll have to spare no pains to make you a worthy Queen, my little Clelia. My mother told me I had a worthy composure when I still was in the cradle. On the opposite, Racitro used to wave his body like you. And that worries me.

Espio caressed her on the forehead. The baby wailed and turned her eyes, blue like her mother, to Espio.

Veneramanda laid a hand on Espio's shoulder. "Our servants told me dinner was served five minutes ago, my darling."

"Just a moment, if you please. I've been busy all day long and I don't have more than this small fragment of time for our daughter. Nonetheless, it's not my intention to force you to stay, my Queen. Go ahead. I won't be late."

Veneramanda caressed Clelia's belly and the baby replied with a wide smile.

She never smiles at me.

Espio slipped the tireless Clelia's small legs under the blanket, but the baby restarted waving her legs around as she was fighting for the lost freedom.

"Dada milkie...sop", Clelia said.

Espio withdrew, looking for help.

For Eristoph's sake, I never understand if she is hungry or something.

Espio glanced up to the wet-nurse. She remained inactive and smiled. Espio seized Clelia by the armpits and held her in his arms.

"Dada."

"Daddy is here. What's new, little princess?"

She started shaking her body as she wanted to escape from Espio's arms and reach for something else. Espio glanced up at the door, just in time to see Racitro slinking out behind it.

On time, as usual, Racitro has come to visit you, my little baby.

"Come on in, brother. Clelia is excited to see you."

Racitro came in with a gloomy expression. He moved no more than two steps inside the room and stood aloof. Nonetheless, Clelia stared at him and waved her hands as she preferred to be held by those ungainly boughs Racitro had in place of arms.

"The uncle is here. But, why is he standing aloof? Clelia is wondering why her uncle has not yet greeted her."

Though surrendering to Clelia's flatteries, Racitro came up at a circumspect pace.

He's looking at her like a father would do.

Despite all the chastened love in his eyes, Racitro didn't avoid to look at Espio with his characteristic fleeting glances.

Espio kissed Clelia on the forehead. The baby caressed him with some weak blows to the chest and the throat. Espio stared at her. She is stabbing me. And you must have taught her, right, Racitro?

Racitro looked away, making a soft thrill that hinted how pleased he was.

We'll square things up, someday. "I leave you in your uncle's reliable hands, my little. See you later."

Espio leaned against the chair back as he tried to escape from the stale air stinking out the surroundings of the table and the unceasing and leading nowhere blathering perpetrated by the advisors and the army highest-ranking officers.

General Tiagaro puffed. Espio apposed his silk handkerchief to the nose trying to avoid breathing in the fetid miasmas the general had emitted.

"This idea of moving our ground troops in enemy territory is reckless", Tiagaro tapped the forefinger on the map at the border between the Kingdoms of Endhora and Mellrose. "Mellrose has an only way through the western region of the Rumianic world: the Kryas fords. In my honest opinion, Endhora's troops, if in the amount reported, are more than enough to repel Mellrose's troops."

Merete ran his fingers on the Rumianic world map, deployed to cover the entire surface of the ash wooden table, and plotted the possible deployment of Mellrose's troops once in the Great Plateau.

"General, are you asserting that a military intervention will be desirable only in case Mellrose's troops cross the Kryas fords?

"Not desirable, but essential", Celete said. "Marching from the Kryas fords to Endhora it's not so easy. The Great Plateau is a unique heap of natural barriers which can stop the advance of Mellrose. This could drive King Torekron to march southward. And, as natural defense, our Kingdom has only the Gadas fords, which can be easily crossed, both for infantry and cavalry, in springtime."

Espio glanced up to the door ajar. Silvaco, who was guarding the door, shook his head and tried to send master Tobiarte away. The master's shoulders were swinging up and down as he was breathless. The master waved a piece of parchment before Silvaco's eyes. Failing to meet the obligations, Silvaco allowed master Tobiarte to come inside the room.

Bad news.

Espio deployed the dispatch. The coarse and inelegant handwriting, common between the Dams' inhabitants, leaped out at him. Espio raised his head and looked straight to the highest-ranking officers and to the advisors who were squabbling with a fiery temper, unworthy of a peasant dive.

Espio stood up. The scraping of the chair hushed the bystanders. Espio laid the dispatch on the map. "We've just received news from the Dams. Mellrose has started its expansion. Niele and Sumaura have been annexed to the Kingdom of Mellrose after a short resistance. This dispatch has been sent us by Leirnaca's administrator. He's asking us for help; but, I'm afraid, I don't think we can answer positively to his request. In fact, Leirnaca will surely fall under the control of Mellrose before our fleet is deployed along the Bruarte's Channel."

Master Tobiarte pushed back the chair at Espio's buttocks.

Merete grasped the dispatch. "The Dams are as commercially important as they are strategically insignificant."

"Well, if King Torekron wants to conquest the entire Rumianic world, he needs to start somewhere", Tiagaro said. "The Dams fell under the control of Mellrose countless times and the same number of times they regained independence. So, we must not be scared about the fall of that disorganized, and not supportive at all, heap of towns called Dams. We are much more organized."

What a trifle. Is it so hard to figure out which kind of advantage Mellrose will get by a direct access to the sea so close to our coasts?

Espio tilted towards master Tobiarte, who was all ears. "Have a look at the library and find Chinales' report number 24."

Espio laid a hand on the map. It seemed damp. He withdrew the hand and stared at the bright stain soiling his palm. He glanced up at Admiral Cloi and examined the fresh water basins the Admiral had drawn on the map.

The Admiral moved his forefinger on the map as he wanted to connect the speckles he had created by means of his own spits. Perchance, he sketched a possible route connecting Sumaura and the Kingdom of Ridget's coasts. "Now that Mellrose has got a direct access to the Bruarte's Channel, they may invade the western side of the Rumianic world by sea rather than by land. Within living memory, every time Mellrose tried to break through the western Kingdoms, their army passed through the Kryas fords. In this case, they might make use of the element of surprise."

"That's impossible", Tiagaro said. "Mellrose is not a nation of sailors, but of woodcutters. They never had a real fleet, they can't deploy dromons and galleys and they have not trained sailors for naval combat."

Master Tobiarte handed Espio Chinales' report number 24. "I'd like to object", Espio deployed the report, whose parchment had turned yellow since the informer had disappeared one, eight and twelve earlier. "As you can read for yourself, two, two and sixteen ago, King Torekron started building his fleet of dromons and galleys and, as far as we know, they are now ridden at anchor in the Closed Sea along the coast from Mellrose to Magdelon. In my opinion, we should not only take into account the theory feared by Admiral Cloi, but, into the bargain, we must consider it the most serious threat."

"In this connection, Majesty", Cloi said, "I think it would be wise to move our battalions, at the moment ridden at anchor in the Danubi Ocean western harbors, in defense of the eastern and southern Mysere's and Bruarte's Channels harbors.

"A proposition who drives me to ask you if you are in the payroll of Endhora", Celete indicated the western coasts. "By moving away all our battalions, the western harbors will be exposed to possible assaults from Endhora."

"Have you forgotten Endhora's proposal of alliance lying on this very table?" Cloi leaned forward, grasped the proposal and banged it before Celete's eyes. "Your blurred memory is playing tricks on you, Celete."

I'm familiar with Celete's hatred towards Endhora, but I don't think that's driving his observations. We're not allied with Endhora thanks to Racitro who, after the army, has rejected Princess Jana's hand as well.

"A possible alliance with Endhora is beyond dispute", Celete said. "The King and I agree to claim it would be insane to give Endhora a Ridget royal family member to hold on hostage."

Espio banged his fist on the table. "Calm down, you two", Espio addressed Admiral Cloi. "Tell me, where do you suggest we deploy our dromons and galleys?"

"We should cover the southern coast from Gynturin to Bruarte's Landing. The seaboard between these two towns can offer supplies to the landed forces and an easy way to Ridget."

"But placing our warships in harbors defense will encourage our enemy to attack there", Merete said. "Attacking them from the rear would be wiser. Why don't we occupy the entire Mysere's Channel, waiting for Mellrose's fleet to sail westward? I suggest we join forces with Fjord-in Town and the Enslavers."

"To make what you suggest we should deploy our entire fleet in an area already defended by the high cliffs and the narrowness of the channel itself; in other words, not a crucial point at all", Cloi said. "And what if Mellrose's fleet plies along the Hot world coastline?"

"But it would be equally incautious to let Fjord-in Town fall under the control of Mellrose, my dear Admiral", Merete said. "There wouldn't be better outpost for Mellrose to ride at anchor the fleet waiting to strike in Bruarte's Landing or in Rujo's Marina."

Wars can be won even before they get started.

"We must not consider only the better position, but the predominant streams as well", Espio drummed his forefinger on Bruarte's Landing. "Who, among you, can declaim the vicissitudes of our legendary brother in Eristoph, Bruarte?"

Tiagaro and Cloi turned up their noses as if they were not eager at all to listen to that old tale which seemed to have little pertinence with military issues.

Pity that, unlike you, I never talk through my hat.

"Majesty", Espio was addressed by master Tobiarte. Espio beckoned him to take a seat at the table. "Three hundred and twenty years ago, Bruarte was the first man who swam across the Channel nowadays we call Bruarte's Channel to pay homage to him. And Bruarte's Landing, in those days just a pilchard fishermen's village, is where he landed after leaving from Irsaca, in the Hot world, three days before."

"Everybody knows this story", Espio said. "But, how many of you know Peniclo's one?"

The bystanders' eyes gazed into space.

"Peniclo's vicissitudes are scarcely notorious because this forerunner of Bruarte had failed the same identical feat forty years before Bruarte succeeded. His body was found by some fishermen on the same Bruarte's Landing coasts where his feat had started five days before. However, it has been reported that Peniclo was as well-built as Bruarte and that he faced the feat in summertime with favorable weather conditions. So, in your opinion, which is the reason why he failed?"

It seemed Tiagaro was bored and lost in his thoughts. Cloi rolled his eyes as he was looking for support from the other advisors.

Espio's elbows flopped on the chair arms.

"Due to the streams", Celete said.

Past sixty and still the smartest.

"Right. Peniclo's carelessness was to attempt the channel swim crossing from our coasts to the Hot world. In fact, the strong predominant streams in that narrow stretch of water were his worst enemies. And, when he got exhausted and surrendered, those same streams brought him back to our coasts. On the contrary, Bruarte was wiser and studied the streams before facing the feat. And, as you know, he opted for the opposite route. Moreover, some historians have reported that Bruarte never performed a single stroke to swim across the channel; he laid down on the water surface and the impetuous streams swept him along."

"You dwelled so much on this epic tale, Majesty", Cloi said. "Far be it from me to understand what you're trying to suggest us."

Now I see why the admiral ranks on your doublet are on the verge of falling on the table any moment now. "Place your fleet, with favorable streams, near Irsaca. Mellrose's fleet will find our southern harbors undefended and will be persuaded to attack in Rujo's Marina, to get our salt mines, or, as I hope King Torekron will be persuaded to think, in Bruarte's Landing to get the opportunity of an easier advance in our territory towards the capital. In this case, our fleet will wipe them out, attacking by aft with favorable streams."

Admiral Cloi looked as he was in dazed admiration.

"If I were in your shoes, I'd take off those Admiral ranks and give them back to the King", Merete patted him on the back.

"If you allow me to raise an objection, Majesty", Celete said. "Your ancestor Ipoclio didn't name the towns on the Hot world coastline as Colds to joke on their scorching summers, but for their scarce, negligible actually, complaisance with respect to the Rumianic world Kingdoms. They will ask you a lavish and lucrative fee to allow your fleet to ride at anchor near their harbors."

"We'll never ask them the favor. Instead, we will pass it off as a charitable protection offer. You'll see that. When all the Dams are fallen under the control of Mellrose, the Colds will feel threatened and they will be graceful we moved our fleet in their harbors. Nonetheless, it's not my intention to move our entire fleet to Irsaca. We can't underestimate Endhora temptation to assault our western undefended harbors. Thus, we'll move to Irsaca only the warships ridden at anchor in the southern harbors from Gynturin to Rigas Mausir."

"As you command, Majesty", Cloi said. "I'll give orders to weigh anchor to Irsaca."

And now, let's take care of Endhora.

"I'm glad I persuaded you about Endhora overt unfaithfulness to treaties", Celete said.

"Prudence, my dear Celete", Espio said. "My father spared no effort to establish those good relationships with Endhora which spared us the troubles of unceasing conflicts over the last forty years. Nonetheless, it would be reckless to be in the position of being assaulted at the same time by both the Mellrose's fleet on the south and the Endhora's army on the north."

"So, have you orders for me?" Tiagaro said. "As I already brought to your attention, our troops are less the enough either to support or to oppose Endhora."

"It's my intention to join forces with Endhora in order to preserve the good relationships we established", Espio said. Celete's face darkened. "Master Tobiarte, send to Queen Patrika of Endhora a formal agreement draft of non-aggression, which, afterwards, will be turned into bilateral alliance when Mellrose strikes to one of our Kingdoms. Inform her that a quarter of our ground battalions will be moved towards Endhora's territory in order to support Endhora's troops against a possible invasion of the Great Plateau by Mellrose. However, being in a supporting role, our troops will settle along the Gadas fords, waiting for the warhorn."

"But a quarter of my battalions is an excessive amount, Majesty", an unsatisfied Tiagaro said. "If, for adverse fates, Mellrose's fleet survive your counterattack and land troops on our coasts I won't be able, relying on the remaining troops, to stop the advance of Mellrose towards Ridget."

If only Racitro took his own responsibilities. Now, the commoners will see me as a tyrant.

"I authorize you to make a forced enlistment of new troops. You'll start training them as soon as possible. To celebrate my eighth year as King of Ridget, and to avoid it turns out to be the last, you'll enlist all the healthy men and women with the rule of eight, which means everyone who is sixteen, twenty-four, thirty-two, forty and forty-eight years old."

Bathed in the brilliant sunlight and in the gentle breeze, Espio caught sight of Maruoco as he left the thicket riding a courser.

"Majesty, I've found freshly-made ungulate traces. It's a stag. I'm sure. The surrounding trunks bark had been rubbed by its antlers."

The bigger the target, the easier to hit it. A statement I found untruthful when it comes to Racitro.

The page handed Espio the hunting bow and Espio put it on his shoulder. Then, Espio verified that the quiver hanged to the saddle was full.

Maruoco and his son, Ricon, released the greyhounds, which deployed in the verdant, spring blooms dressed, thicket which, for generations, had been the inviolable King's game preserve.

Every praiseworthy King always caught at least a deer.

Espio spurred and the courser started trotting. A breeze chock-full of pollen caused his eyes to sting and forced him to wipe some tears away with a silk handkerchief. Maruoco Gariant rode ahead Espio, who was enraptured by observing the skips of the deer sewed on his subject's doublet back.

Maruoco hunts since he was eight and his son, Ricon, as well. It's not a case that the deer proudly appears in their family's coat of arms. Espio sighed. Ah, the family. I exhorted Racitro to join today's hunting, but, as usual, he has declined. And to think that I promised not to address him a single word.

The racket intensified over the tree line. The underbrushes rustled as they were trampled by an army. Espio stretched his fingers and pulled on his deer leathered gloves. He took up the bow, pulled an arrow out of the quiver and got ready to nock it.

"That way", Maruoco said. He sensed a change in direction of the hounds Espio didn't notice.

Maruoco spurred his courser at a gallop. Espio spurred his one to keep pace. The unceasing bouncing on the saddle forced Espio to withdraw the bow and hold stronger to the reins.

Let's not be too hasty. When we reach the hounds, I'll have just to wait for the stag to be at bay and, then, it will be mine.

Stag and hounds emerged from the thicket only a hundred Steps ahead. The noble prey kept on fleeing in the open. Maruoco spurred his courser to keep pace with the stag. Espio tried as well, but those two incautious numbskulls, Ricon Gariant and Maire Valesi, outrode him at the same time, one on right, the other on left, and they got so close that their horses almost came into contact with Espio's courser.

For Eristoph's sake. Look out. You almost crashed your King to the ground.

After five minutes running about the heather clothed hills where the hounds had forced it, the stag surrendered and, exhausted, turned around to face the hounds. When Espio came within stag range, Maruoco was already busy calling back the hounds. Espio drew in the reins and the courser slowed. The bounces decreased. Espio let go the reins and took the bow.

It should be an easy throw. Too bad Racitro isn't here to put up with my triumph.

Espio nocked the arrow and aimed at the neck of the twelve antlers stag, which, unwary, was looking at the hounds. Espio drew the bow. The hounds barking grew in intensity. Espio bent his head. The greyhounds were charging Espio's courser.

Flustered by the hounds acrimony, the courser stepped back. Espio was surrounded. The courser reared up. Espio felt nothing under his buttocks.

That's why you didn't come.

The sun flickered before his eyes. The racket rang in his ears. Then, nothing else but silence.

### Chapter 13 - Racitro

Wearing nothing more than her soft skin and with two goblets and a bottle of Angusta cardamom mulled red wine in her hands, a bewitching Veneramanda swayed her hips and walked towards the bed. Racitro took her and the delicacy she was bearing in his arms. Veneramanda rubbed herself against Racitro's hairy chest and purred. Racitro tickled one of her braids and uncorked the bottle of wine. The cork wandered through the garments lying on the floor. Racitro poured some wine in the goblets. Veneramanda nibbled at his ear. Racitro had a sweet thrill and spilled some wine on the sheets.

He put a goblet among her gentle tapered fingers. "Here's to my future coronation as King of Ridget. And to your grace, naturally."

Veneramanda smiled and clinked her goblet against Racitro's one. "Here's to you, Majesty. Long live the King."

Racitro knocked back the wine in one shot. The spiced aftertaste delighted him and the return of the warm vapors bewitched his throat.

The taste of victory. And, Veneramanda, you are the most handsome reward. And to think that foolish Espio wanted to send me to Endhora.

"My inveterate dream of consummating our passion before Espio's eyes will never come true cause of your subtle stratagem. But, perhaps, we could dare to consummate on his death bed."

"Oh, that's naughty", she ran her forefinger on her turgid lower lip. "You're tempting me, but your mother...She spends undeterred and untiring day and night taking care of his infant."

"She should enjoy some rest." So that I could be alone with Espio and smother him with a filthy pillow. "The archiater claimed that Espio won't die, after all, but, most likely, he will nevermore awake. I feel even sorry for him. The puffed-up King Espio will lie motionless in a bed for the whole of his life."

"Are you repentant? Or, perhaps, just eager to take his seat on the throne? Isn't the great and brave Racitro really scared of the power he chased for so long?"

You'll see, my darling. I'll be a better King than him. The memory of his short-lived reign will soon be effaced by the grandeur of mine.

Veneramanda sat up on his belly. "You're twice the man he was, and you'll be twice the King he was. That irresponsible has moved the fleet ridden at anchor in Rigas Mausir eastwards, leaving undefended my native town and my family's possessions."

Countermanding the last irresponsible decision of that dastard will remark the gap between our regencies. But, if I want to stand out, that won't be enough.

"A war is threating us all and Espio, coward as he was, arranged only defensive maneuvers which dishonored our lineage and branded it with weakness. But now that I'm rising to power, the entire Rumianic world will tremble before the Champion of the Arena who, after knocking out each of his opponents in fighting, will replicate his feats on the battlefield."

Racitro awoke even before the dawn and, despite Veneramanda's arms were wrapped around his waist, he couldn't fall asleep again. At sunrise, he drew apart from the Queen's hug, paying attention not to wake her. He wore neat and floral perfumed garments, left the room and his beloved and headed towards the throne room.

His light steps on the gravelly floor echoed up to the wide vaults in the still empty room. He came before the throne predella where, for the first time since he was born, the throne wasn't occupied by someone with more rights than him. Standing before that wonderful padded green velvet coated seat well-finished with gold and gems made him thrill.

I've been dreaming this moment since I was born.

He caressed one-by-one each carved sapphire and all the decorations engraved on the throne arms. Then, he turned around and lowered his buttocks centered to the throne seat.

It fits perfectly with my hips. I'm born to sit on this throne.

The sickly, but early-rising, Celete got first in the throne room. He frowned and stared at the throne with circumspection.

"Prince, don't you find imprudent to sit on the throne before your brother breathes his last? Despite all the benevolence and admiration you can enjoy within the noble families of our court, your conduct could be considered in bad taste and disrespectful."

Racitro looked away, distracted by the shining sapphires. He clenched his fist and an indomitable power permeated his fingers.

Let the envious ones look at me as they see fit. "I'll be pleased by each look, either addressed to me with appreciation and affection or with acrimony. And, as next King, I'll prove I'm able to appropriately reward each of them."

"Who's going to take part in today's council?"

"I thought it would be better not to admit your long-standing friend Merete. I'm conscious of what his contribution to this council has been so far. He did his best on recruiting mercenaries ready to fight against me in the Arena. So, I really don't think we'll miss his advices. General Tiagaro and Admiral Cloi have been asked to participate because I want to be informed about the training of the last reluctant recruits Espio picked out and the deployment of our army and fleet. I have big plans. Last, but not least, Ricon Gariant is going to attend today's council."

"That's a rather hasty concession. Many will wonder what kind of admirable feat he made to deserve a seat at the restricted table of the royal council."

It's thanks to him if I sit on this throne today. "I have my doubts, in his current conditions, Espio will ever know who spared no effort to make his accident more likely."

"In this connection, I exhort you not to be so explicit. And, actually, I exhort you to move this council from the throne room to the King's study. It's much more secluded and easier to guard. We can't allow that your brother's sickly conditions are divulged outside these walls."

"What are you talking about? The entire Rumianic world has to know that my brother is close to death. And, most of all, that I'm the one who will fill this power vacuum. Espio was a joke as King", Racitro banged his fist on the chair arm. "Don't forget he was on the verge of sending me to our worst enemy as a hostage; something that, today, would have seriously endangered our Kingdom. Moreover, if Mellrose is making us war now, after more than a century, it's because King Torekron saw Espio as a weakling. I charge you to inform King Torekron and Queen Patrika that I'm ascending to the throne of Ridget. You'll see. They'll withdraw their troops and keep them far from our borders, fearing my revenge."

"I and your brother agreed that these territorial claims from Mellrose were laid because of your family conflict."

Do you mean I'm the weakling?

Celete rummaged in his tunic pocket and extracted a crumpled parchment. "It was my intention to bring this dispatch from the Dams to the attention of the entire royal council; but, acknowledged your impatience of divulging detrimental information, I changed my mind and I'm going to immediately inform you about its content."

"I'm all ears, although I don't think its content will change my mind."

"Leirnaca has fallen under the control of Mellrose. And now, Column of West is threatened. Surely, Mellrose's fleet will get to Fjord-in Town within a lunarquarter, at most two; then, our enemies will be in sight of our coasts."

"Make sure that adverse winds chant my name and you'll see that they will retreat to Magdelon."

Celete shook his head. "I don't think it will be that easy. We have to arrange a defensive plan."

The crackling of the pebbles kicked by Admiral Cloi interrupted Celete.

"Admiral Cloi, I'm glad to see you've accepted my invitation."

The Admiral didn't look as glad as Racitro.

Here's the first frown in seeing me on the throne.

Racitro frowned, forcing Cloi to withdraw his own frown. "Forgive me, Prince. Nobody has told me that our beloved King has passed away."

I know whose side you're on. "Far be it from him to have already met the comforting Eristoph's hug. But, due to the current circumstances, we can't wait for him."

"I agree, but you won't expect me to kneel down before you, will you? You're not the King, and, probably, you'll never be the King. At most, you'll be a vicar until Princess Clelia turns sixteen."

Racitro clenched his fist and grinded his teeth.

How dare you be disrespectful to me? "Nonetheless, you're before a royal family member. If you don't want to bow before me, who cares? But, at least, show the deference as befits you."

The Admiral didn't even bend his head as a sign of contrition. Racitro pointed his finger at him. "It's my intention to call into question your unproven ability as Admiral. If you were not foolish, you wouldn't move half of our fleet to Irsaca. To defend what? A mound of sand? With our enemies standing so close to our coasts, we can't leave half of our southern seaboards undefended."

"I was complying with Majesty's orders. Orders approved by him and his royal council. A council you were not admitted to so far thanks to Eristoph's sake."

My lions are hungry.

"What a disrespectful speech", Ricon Gariant said, as soon as he got before the throne. He bowed. "Long live the King. As for you, Admiral, if it's not your intention to be dismissed, or even demoted, I recommend you to employ a speech befitting the sacredness of the place you're in and the person you're talking to."

"And who are you, forked tongue?" Cloi said. "Certainly, a diehard Prince Racitro's supporter. But I can't see anything notable that outranks you over the other ever ready to prostrate themselves to the new King, spineless, lords."

"He's Ricon, heir of the House of Gariant", Celete said. "And, since today, a worthy member of the royal council."

"I wonder what you did to get such a privilege. It's the first time I hear your name. But, tell me, which kind of valiant actions did you accomplish to get the privilege of talking on my same level?"

"I exhort you to soothe your animosity", Racitro said. "General Tiagaro has not joined us yet, but his absence without leave won't prevent us from getting started with this council."

"So, as first question at issue, I expect you to inform the entire Rumianic world that I'm ascending to the throne of Ridget, so that everyone will know that I'm in charge in place of the disabled Espio."

"I beg to differ again with your proposition", Celete waved his trembling hands addressing Cloi and Ricon. "Underlining your weaknesses before your enemy is never a good idea."

"But, if the Prince wants to venture, there's no reason to oppose", Cloi said.

"Don't you forget we're about to be at war", Celete said. "We can't vainly risk any life."

They're laughing at me. Well, they'll see who Racitro Cilantes really is.

Racitro stood up from the throne. "Listen to me. We can't be satisfied with what Eristoph gave us. The Kingdom of Ridget is just a tiny enclave of the Rumianic world. But, as Eristoph taught us, each of the four worlds belongs to His divine body and the entire Rumianic world is nowadays desecrated by despicable unbelievers. What I'm proposing you is to become part of a bigger plan, something that has divine grandeur and approval", Racitro raised his arms to the vaults. "We'll put the entire Rumianic world under the Lion's banner."

"Yes", Ricon raised his fist.

Cloi and Celete kept their faces straight.

"The time is ripe for the conquest, but we need time to train our new recruits. Till then, what we need is to defend our coasts, and that includes the harbors you left undefended. As Rigas Mausir. That's why, Admiral, I give you the order..." the Admiral turned up his nose. "Of moving every warship back in the harbor it sails under. And, Celete, I charge you to proclaim to the Rumianic people my ascent to the throne of Ridget, so that Endhora will withdraw its marriage proposals and Mellrose its troops."

"You want me to move the fleet back to Rigas Mausir?" Cloi said. "Why? Are you afraid of a possible assault from a school of mermaids?" Racitro's chest blazed up. "You're out of mind. There's nothing more ingenious than the plan your brother conceived. If we implement it, we will wipe out once and for all Mellrose's impressive fleet. I have no intention to take refuge to Rigas Mausir, which is already defended by the western harbors' fleet."

Racitro grinded his teeth.

Everyone's taking the liberty of being disrespectful and of contravening my orders. I must be firm and inflexible. "If it means so much to you to fight the Mellrose's fleet, then, I'll tie you at a raft drifting towards the Dams, so that you will get satisfaction and please the King, you love so intensely, by complying with his last wish."

The Admiral stamped his feet, smashed his right fist in the left palm and left without any reverence and a single word about his intentions.

Celete bent his head and ran to master Tobiarte to charge him of writing the dispatches.

Racitro put a woolen blanket around his mother's shoulders. Weakened by the lack of sleep, she was hunched on that same wicker chair, on the left side of Espio's death bed, she has been sitting on for twelve days. She replied to Racitro with a smile, but her eyes, reddened by tears, didn't part from Espio's face.

How many times have I put my life at risk in the Arena, mum? But you've never cried so much for me.

"You should take a break, restore yourself and recover your forces to fight with vigor beside your son", Veneramanda said. "Don't be afraid. Tonight, I'll stay beside my husband. And Racitro will be here as well. I'm sure that, surrounded by our affection, he will open his eyes, in the end."

The mother shook her head and wiped the tears beading her cheek away with a handkerchief. "So many times I've cried bitter tears for you, my boys. But I never prepared myself to pray Eristoph to spare one of your lives. In His infinite grace, I hope He'll absolve me for whichever sin I've ever made to deserve watching my son slowly die."

Your only sin was to neglect your other son.

"Mother, you're tired out. Your shoulders are sagging and your neck can barely support the weight of your head. You have to desist and take some rest. Don't be afraid. You'll have many years more to live along with your sons."

The mother didn't give a hint she wanted to stand up from her seat. Her hands fell on her thighs and on the white-browed and creased dress.

You've never worn the same dress for two consecutive days. But, look at you. You're wearing the same tunic you were dressing the day an unconscious Espio was brought back to the castle.

Racitro put his hands on her shoulders. He gave her a weak shake. But she didn't react.

Instead, she started caressing Espio's cheeks and, with a lovely touch, moved a forelock away from Espio's forehead. Then, she took, in those same hands Racitro had scarred with his sword, Espio's right hand and held it with the gentleness and the love only a mother can instill.

Someone knocked on the door. Racitro opened the door and found the ever rancorous eyes of master Tobiarte.

"What are you doing here?" Racitro said.

"I've come to pay my homage to the King and his mother. And I was also looking for you", he waved a small piece of parchment before Racitro's eyes. "This message comes from the last carrier pigeon sent from Bruarte's Landing."

Racitro snatched the parchment out of those skeletal hands. Master Tobiarte slipped inside the room and paid homage to the two women.

"Bruarte's Landing is under the siege of the Mellrose's fleet", Racitro said.

"Do you mean we're in danger?" Veneramanda's anxious eyes frightened Racitro more than her trembling voice.

"If Bruarte's Landing falls under the control of Mellrose, our enemies won't be long in marching to Ridget. Espio will die by the sword; the same which will cut our heads."

"What can we do?" Veneramanda seized his arm.

It's a critical situation. Maybe I should lead the ground troops to Bruarte's Landing and lift the siege. But leading the army was what Espio wanted me to do. And, despite he's lying in that bed, at the point of death, it doesn't mean he didn't plot everything and that I'm, once again, not more than a puppet in one of his devious plans. I can't take the risk.

"You aren't thinking of fighting personally, I hope?" Veneramanda said. "If it's your intention to send there the army, then do it. But don't go to Bruarte's Landing personally. Clelia and I need you."

But if I stay hidden inside the Sapphire Palace, everyone will see me as a coward. I've just ascertained that my coronation as King of Ridget has not curbed Mellrose's claims. I can't act like a weakling. I can't act as Espio would do. And, if I don't go, there won't be any Kingdom to take away from his hands.

Veneramanda's hold got tighter. Her eyes implored him to stay. Racitro shook his head to escape them.

"Master Tobiarte", the hateful elder came before Racitro. "Summon the council of war. Inform the Generals to muster the troops, ready or not ready", he glanced up. "I'm going to win back Bruarte's Landing."

Plumes of thick black smoke fell night on Bruarte's Landing. Before the harbor, the Mellrose's banners flapped on the galleys yards. The smoking remnants of the Ridget's dromons, previously ridden at anchor in the harbor, stood out as an artificial barrier between the enemy galleys and the harbor. To the east of the town, a growing swarm of knights and foot soldiers was gathering on the coast by means of hundreds of launches. Many soldiers poured against the weak town walls like a dark deafening wave. Arrows and darts rained down and up. A battering ram, carried by tens of soldiers, advanced towards the eastern gate.

I left Ridget five days ago, but the siege has just begun. Something doesn't square. I feel like I could end up with a dagger stabbed in my back at any moment.

The horse Racitro was riding pawed on the ground. Racitro turned his eyes to the two highest-ranking officers among the over seven thousands soldiers behind him.

The three men rode to a small clearing.

"Prince, we must attack immediately", General Tiagaro said. "The first aim of the companies mooring in the harbor through launches will be to open the town gates to the ground troops outside the walls."

"How many enemy soldiers have landed so far, in your opinion?"

"Less than a thousand, but, within evening, the town will be lost", Brigadier Liano said. "And if we lose Bruarte's Landing, there won't be anything we could do to oppose a massive landing of ground troops on our coasts. And, since the shortage of provisions in the town, they will march at a brisk pace in the plains and on the high road to Ridget."

"Which are the current conditions?"

"We're downwind at this time", Liano said. "Enemy arrows will range a shorter distance if compared to ours. Moreover, the smoke rising from the town is blocking the view of the enemy warships before the harbor, so that they won't be quick to provide support to the landed troops. In addition, we will take advantage of the declivity. They are landing only the infantry at this moment, and just a few of them are pikemen. Our knights will crush the largest part of their soldiers by treading on them."

So, we could limit the casualties.

"Prince, you will lead the infantry to the north-western town gate", Liano said. "Raise the royal banner. Our allies guarding the walls have been given order to open you the gates. The infantry will move easily in the narrow streets. Your aim will be to vanquish the moored enemies. General Tiagaro and I will lead a sortie against the troops landed on the eastern coast."

"Then, sound the warhorn and may Eristoph help us", Racitro said.

Racitro leaded his destrier in front of the infantry. He unsheathed the sword and withheld it despite his fingers were trembling. He turned at his brigade. Thousands of steel covered heads raised their fearful eyes to him.

They're waiting for some encouragement. Words that could exhort them to fearlessly face the death. Racitro halted his destrier. I don't even know where to start from.

He turned towards the Cilantes' banner and contemplated the Lion's proud features.

I always found the willpower inside myself and in the grudge against my brother. But I don't know anything about these four thousands soldiers standing before me.

Racitro peered at a youngster. "You. Why are you here? What are you fighting for?"

"I fight for you, Prince", he said.

"Save your breath. This kind of mawkishness can work with Espio, not with me. So, why are you here? What did you leave at home? What do you wish to be?"

"I left two younger brothers and a sister, Prince. And I wish to become a barber surgeon."

"What's your name?"

"Espio."

Is it just a case?

Racitro glanced up. "Have all of you heard Espio's story? It doesn't differ much from ours. How many of you have a dream? How many of you want to come back home alive? Think of your families. Think of your future. At what you wish to be in two, three, ten years from now."

Racitro pointed his finger to the town. "Now look down there. Look at that horde of enemies. They are here to deny your dreams. They are here to put you in chains. Will you allow them to do it?"

"No", the brigade shouted.

"You've known me as Champion of the Arena rather than as Prince. And you know that I don't know the meaning of the word 'defeat'. Entrust me your lives and I'll lead you to glory and greatness", he raised his sword to the sky. "My lions. Widen your jaws open and roar."

The soldiers roared louder than the warhorn. Racitro broke into a gallop down the declivity. Tiagaro's and Liano's squadrons followed him to the east.

Racitro spurred the destrier and raised the Lion's banner. Rejoicing shouts rose from the walls. The gates opened wide. Racitro entered the town in triumph.

He went ahead through the empty streets and headed towards the harbor. He lowered the banner and raised the sword. Flames were rising high from an inn at the top of the street. Racitro engaged a Mellrose's squad. The destrier crushed the first two enemies under the hooves. Racitro severed the neck of a soldier wearing a gorget-less armor. Salvo of arrows rained from the roofs. The enemies fell pierced one after the other.

Racitro went ahead over the inn and reached the piers. He engaged the just moored soldiers. His destrier broke into a gallop and crushed three of them.

An arrow pierced the destrier withers. Racitro crashed to the ground. He got up in the mob, asphyxiated by the air thick of ash. A soldier dealt a downcut from right. Racitro swerved two steps to his left and lowered the sword pommel on the enemy's nape. The unfortunate man raised spurts of salty water.

An arrow hissed at Racitro's ears and grazed his nape, forcing him to withdraw towards the built-up areas. He deflected the downcut of a first opponent and severed his throat with a slash from right. Racitro shoved a second opponent with his shoulder and the enemy tumbled in the waters. Racitro dodged the downcut of a third one and broke his arm by means of a downcut from left. He deflected the downcut of a fourth opponent, the slash from right of a fifth one, and the uppercut of the forth one. He kicked the fifth opponent in the knee and severed the fourth opponent's head. He parried the slash from right dealt by the fifth opponent and dealt an uppercut from right on the enemy's left thigh. The opponent collapsed amid agonizing cries.

Racitro looked around. He ran at the inn and rejoined the Ridget's infantrymen. Two of them collapsed like pheasants killed by a dart.

"Fall back. Fall back", Racitro said.

The company he was leading followed him. They went around the block and came back on the piers, where an imposing enemy galley was attempting berthing.

If they succeed, hundreds of enemies will pour out on us. Tiagaro and Liano have kept the easy part. Maybe Espio told them to do so.

"Archers. Nock. Shoot", Racitro said.

The arrows hissed in the air in a unison chorus of death. One third of the enemies on a launch fell in the waters.

Racitro engaged the Mellrose's infantry, roaring lions behind him. He lowered a downcut on a woman. The blow cracked her neck and her motionless body collapsed. A short man dealt a very weak downcut. Racitro deflected it and split the opponent's head from his shoulders with a downcut from right. The head rolled out of the armet.

For Eristoph's sake. He was just a boy.

A studded club rumbled at Racitro's left ear. Racitro severed the woodcutter's wrists. The man collapsed and cried. A Ridget's soldier beheaded him.

The enemy soldiers lowered a gangway from the galley and tens of them poured out on the streets. Racitro found his comrades-in-arms barricaded twenty Steps before the galley. Some barrels streaked across the clouds, as light as seagulls. The wooden staves blew against the houses walls and shattered. Heaps of rocks rained on the Ridget's infantry. An entire building collapsed and crushed on both factions.

"Those barrels. How can they throw them?

Racitro turned his eyes to the galley. A barrel cut through over the galley prow as it had been thrown by a giant crossbow. A second barrel shattered against another house and a cascade of pink liquid rained on the Ridget's soldiers. The Mellrose's soldiers withdrew towards the galley. The Ridget's lions roared in pursuit of them.

No. Why are they running away? What's that liquid?

An archer stood before the giant crossbow. He set his arrowhead on fire.

They're going to turn us to ashes.

Racitro turned around. He tugged a woman archer and pulled her before him. He pushed her to come out into the open and pointed his finger at the enemy archer. "Nock and kill him."

Her hands trembled as she nocked the arrow. She hesitated.

"For Eristoph's sake. Throw it."

Despite she didn't stop trembling, she hit the enemy archer, who collapsed in the waters. Racitro sighed with relief.

A burning arrow rose to the sky from the port side of the galley.

For Eristoph's sake. "Fall back. Fall back."

Racitro jostled his way through his comrades-in-arms.

A deafening thunder fell on the piers. An immense billow of flames flooded on everything, burning wood, rocks, steel and men. Racitro was kissed on the neck by an insufferable heat and crashed to the ground.

He got on his knees. The explosions echoed all around. Someone tripped over him and turned him supine. He stood up and looked at the piers. Hundreds of armored human torches were dancing on the quays, looking for salvation. Most of them crashed to the ground like burning logs and kept on roasting amid agonizing cries. Others plunged in the waters, but emerged a few moments later still wrapped by an insatiable blanket of flames.

What kind of sorcery is that?

A pair of subordinates caromed against him. Racitro freed his legs. A horde of enemy soldiers moved forward, not caring about the flames, swords in their hands and bloodshot eyes.

I don't want to die here.

Racitro stood up, ran and never turned around. The squeaky armors of the enemies followed the crackling of his steps, getting closer and louder. He turned into an alley. He turned around. Two soldiers followed him and, then, many more. The alley led him to a broader street. He found a small door open. He slipped into it and locked himself in. The soldiers passed through in a hurry. They stopped not far from the door and went back. Racitro pressed his back against the wall, just behind the door.

He spent twenty minutes in that position. Then, he peeked between the jamb and the door. He saw nobody in the street. He came out and ran northwards, the farthest from the piers. The racket of a battle grew louder before him. He turned into another alley and reached the north-western walls. He took refuge on a staircase. He jumped over an archer with an arrow piercing his neck. He kneeled down, sheltered by the battlements.

Deafening explosions went on from the piers. Racitro was reached by an ashen mist, thick of the nauseating stench of burnt corpses. He took off his armet and threw up. He slumped, back at the walls merlons.

Veneramanda. Clelia. I just want to get back. I need to see you again, no matter if I have to run tirelessly for five days.

One hour later, the explosions stopped and the smoke over the town became less thick. Racitro glanced up and, as if by some miracle, the Lion's banner, mounted on a galley yard, crossed the wall of smoke and flapped over the piers.

The naval reinforcements.

Rejoicing shouts rose from the most faraway corners of the town. Down the street overlooking the walls, a squad of seven enemies was surrounded and beheaded. The cavalry, leaded by Tiagaro, climbed from east and severed one foot soldier after the other.

An unarmed Ridget's soldier, chased by a Mellrose's soldier with a sword in his hand, passed under the walls. Racitro picked up a Lion's banner and threw it like a javelin. The Mellrose's soldier crashed to the ground with the banner pierced in the calf. The Ridget's soldier turned around. He picked up the sword and cut off the enemy's throat. Then, he raised his head and took off his armet. He smiled at Racitro. He was reached by a platoon of thirty Ridget's soldiers. Each of them took off the armet and stared at Racitro.

They raised their swords to the sky. "Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

At the dusk, Racitro sat with his generals in the field tent put up outside the northern walls.

"Overwhelming victory", Tiagaro said. "Mellrose's casualties are three times ours. And I'm not taking into account the drowned enemies."

"They must be several thousand", Cloi said. "Our fleet sank a hundred and six warships. Only seventeen escaped us and are now beating a retreat eastwards."

Admiral Cloi, the one I wanted to demote, saved my buttocks. But, what makes me fly into a rage is that he made it following Espio's plan to the letter and ignoring my orders.

"It has been just a matter of timing", Tiagaro said. "If the King had not suggested us to move to Bruarte's Landing immediately after the fall of Leirnaca, it would have been too late."

"You should be pleased, Prince", Liano said. "Armed with sword and honor, you've managed to defend a crucial outpost of our Kingdom and with acceptable casualties."

"But what's left? The town is just a pile of ashes", Racitro said. "We have to rebuild it as soon as possible. For the time being, we'll provide support to the survivors who lost their houses and their belongings by hosting them in the neighboring towns. Send immediately some heralds from Gynturin to Rujo to notify my resolution."

"Those are the words of a King", Tiagaro patted Racitro on the shoulder.

The generals took leave of Racitro.

"Admiral Cloi. Would you give me two minutes before you go on a binge?"

"It may surprise you, Prince, but, I'm a teetotaler."

"You're not son of Eristoph."

Cloi puffed and cracked a smile.

"Then, I'll drink by myself", Racitro poured himself some well-deserved Angusta red wine. "Tell me. Why have you come to my rescue, Admiral? You gave me the impression you disapproved deeply of my methods."

"Don't misunderstand me, Prince. I owe the Admiral ranks to your father and the success of this plan to your brother. I hope that, when we come back to Ridget, I'll owe something to you, too."

What a scoundrel...Hmm, you deserved it, after all.

A herald ran into the tent. "Prince", he bowed.

"Why are you in a state?"

"I've just received a missive from the capital. You have to come back home immediately."

There can only be one reason. Espio has breathed his last.

### Chapter 14 - Espio

Espio opened his eyes. A dark, though familiar, world appeared before him. He didn't see either any face or eyes he could take comfort from. He swallowed. But the lump got stuck in his throat. He coughed. But not a single noise replied, not a step. His throat was parched and his body was wrapped by hot flushes. His cheek started itching. He tried to scratch it, but his hand took forever before reaching his cheek. Nails longer than he remembered dug in his face skin. He put the hand before his eyes. He stared at the forefinger first, then at the middle finger. He opened his finger and, starting from the thumb, he curled his fingers one-by-one, each movement just a little less quiet than the previous one. He laid both hands on his chest, on his face and rubbed his eyes. Only then, he perceived all the softness of the mattress and the pillow he was stretched out on. He noticed the woolen blanket, tucked in to the level of his collarbones, which was preventing him from swallowing. He moved the blanket away, but the oppression didn't lessen. He tried to tilt his head forward. But it didn't lift from the pillow. He explored the world surrounding him with the hands and the eyes. He ran his fingers along the bedspread embroideries and sensed the long hair of the lion mane. He stretched his hand on his left, looking for a warm body. He found only unblemished and smooth sheets, as nobody has been sleeping beside him since a long, long time. He turned on his right. A lonely wicker chair materialized in the pitch blackness. The seat back was leaning against the wall and the front legs were lifted from the floor, as they wanted to escape those cold vapors rising from the stone floor.

Am I home? What happened? Was that just a dream?

A twinge in the back forced Espio to roll in a more comfortable position. He took a deep breath. His lungs burned. He patted on what he thought were his thighs, but didn't get a feeling in return. He banged his fists on them. Neither pleasure, nor pain. Nothing.

He spent ten minutes rubbing down his thighs. Finally, he started perceiving a hot flush climbing all the way up to his left thigh. The right one, instead, was sort of numb.

He tried to lift his head. A blade pierced his back. His head plunged again into the pillow. He swallowed. But the lump got again stuck in his throat. He coughed not once, not twice, but three times. He seized the blanket edge and pushed it away. The blanket folded and Espio could free his thighs, but not his knees. He rolled in the bed with some weak thrusts of his back. He dragged the blanket as he tried to free his legs. The left leg found the freedom.

But what about the right leg? It should have been the first one.

His left foot fell on the frost. He withdrew it. Then, he put it again on the stone cold floor. He tried to stand up. But another stab pierced his back. He started wheezing and pondered. He was stretched out on the bed, with at least a foot on the floor. He slipped on the back till he lost support. He collapsed amid a racket of wood and iron.

He came around. His right eyebrow was in flames. His hand bumped into the bedside table lying on the floor as he put it to his forehead. He grinded his teeth and wheezed.

What's the matter with me? Why can't I stand up? And the right leg? Where is it?

He threw his head backwards. The umpteenth stab pierced his back. His right hand flopped on the right leg, which was folded under his body. He felt the leg in his hand, but not his hand on his leg.

He hanged on his bed with the left hand and raised is head in a gasp. He saw a starless night through the only small opening between the curtains. He rubbed down with circular movements on his left temple, but the pain didn't soothe. He levered on his left arm and turned towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

I remember I was hunting a stag, but then...nothing. This is my bedroom. But where's Veneramanda? Has that lassie gone to give herself to Racitro?

He gasped and slumped on the floor. He touched the frosty floor by pressing his left cheek on the stone. He pressed the left temple and waited a few moments to take advantage of that small relief.

He crawled on the floor like a viper. He dug his nails in each gap between two adjacent stone tiles and dragged himself. He reached the door by pulling with the hands and the left leg only.

Three chipped nails later, he reached the door. He rolled on one side and sat up, leaning his back against the door. He touched the door with the back of his left hand. He found the handle. He grabbed it. He turned it. But the door didn't open. He banged against the door with his fist, getting a dull sound in return.

Dang. It opens inwards.

He hanged on to the left handle and pulled with all his weight. He dug the right elbow and the left foot in the floor, pushed himself and rolled away from the door. The hinges creaked, but the door opened. He let go the handle and circled around the door in that cold sea of stones. He fell, face to the floor, in the aisle. He raised his head and caught sight of a dim light escaping under a door gap on his right. Two, actually three, rooms farther. He dragged his body towards safety. His wrists were in flames. He stopped when he was halfway. His fingers were sore and his armpits sweaty. He turned around.

Dang. His strengths started fading. My feet are still inside the door.

His head flopped on the floor. He perceived some vibrations. The light grew in intensity. He glanced up and saw a man rushing in the illuminated room. He tried to shout, but whatever he had uttered went unheeded cause of the door slamming on the jamb. "Help", he coughed. "Help."

He coughed twice, the parched throat was on the verge of catching fire. He crawled for some more Steps till he got under a statue pedestal. He grabbed it, tilted his neck and tried to identify it. But he couldn't see above the belly.

If I'm where I think I'm, it must be Sofees. And that illuminated room must be mum's one.

He tried to dig his nails in the floor, but some severe and intense pains made him change his mind. He stared at his fingers. They were all black and bleeding. He arched his back and stood on his elbows. He dragged himself ahead digging his elbows in the coarse shaped tiles. His elbows skinned under the robe sleeves.

Teary-eyed and with his hair dripping sweat, he reached the door. He clenched his right fist and banged it against the wooden door. He waited. Nobody came to open. His head flopped on the floor and pressed the left temple on it. He looked under the door. He saw womanly feet wrapped in suede botties. They were lying on the ball and the heels were lifted, as she was sat and leaned forward. Beyond them, there was his mother's velvety bedspread, and, just beyond, there were two pairs of manly boots; the black ones stayed still, while the grey ones were pattering on the spot. Espio banged twice on the door, but nobody answered. He tried to listen, but not a single whisper reached his ears.

I gotta do it. I'm so close.

He sat up, back against the door. He explored the door shapes with the left hand. He found the handle and turned it. One moment later, he was lying, back to the floor, bathed in so much light that he couldn't see anything more than an intense and rutilant darkness. Indistinguishable voices rang in his ears and overlapped. Something fell on his shoulder; something else, icier, on the forehead. Someone took him by the armpits. He heard some quick steps, as if someone ran away.

Where am I? What's going on?

The red stains slipped before his eyes like blood dripping from a wound. Veneramanda's glacial eyes appeared. Then, her clean face and her inevitable braids.

Just behind her, there was master Tobiarte, whose lips were moving. "Majesty. Majesty. Can you hear me?" the master said.

I didn't remember you had a decayed incisor.

"No matter how hard we try to communicate with him", Veneramanda turned towards the master. "He's not conscious. You must carry him back in his apartments. I don't understand how he could get here."

Espio noticed he was stretched out on the couch.

Bring me some water. Or some wine. Some water or wine, please.

Nobody of them turned towards him. Nobody of them had heard him. Espio raised his elbow, hand to the mouth.

"He's thirsty", Veneramanda said.

Eristoph bless you, Veneramanda. It seems we both come from the same sprout.

The Queen came back bearing a pitcher full to the brim with water and a silver cup. She filled the cup. Master Tobiarte's scrawny hand ran through Espio's hair and held Espio's head steady. Tobiarte raised Espio's head. Espio restrained a grimace of pain and drank. Veneramanda took the cup away from Espio's lips. Espio stretched his right hand and took possession of the cup. He drank, but his throat was still parched.

"What happened?" Espio said.

"Never mind, my beloved husband. You've been unconscious for a lunarhalf."

Unconscious for a lunarhalf? "Why are you all in my mother's room? And at this time of the night?"

Veneramanda looked away. Tobiarte bent his head. Silvaco and Graunio came in the room.

"Majesty", Silvaco cracked a dazzling smile and bent his head. "So glad you recovered."

"You'd better carry the King back in his bedroom", Tobiarte said.

"Graunio, let's go", Silvaco said. "Grab him by the ankles. I'll grab him by the armpits."

"Wait. Why are you all in my mother's room?"

Silvaco lifted him by the armpits. Espio was stabbed again in the back and shut his eyes.

As he opened his eyes, he saw his mother. She was lying in the bed at the other side of the bedroom. She was tucked in the blanket at the chin. It seemed she was sleeping.

Mum...

Her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her entire face was dominated by an unnatural pallor.

"Let me go", Espio swayed his hips. "Mum. Mum. Wake up."

Her purple lips didn't move.

She doesn't hear me.

The emptiness started digging in his chest and cold tears beaded his eyelids.

It can't be true.

Espio turned to contemplate the cedar walking stick Celete was passing him. The carpenter took pains to embellish it with decorations and engravings reminiscent of flames and lions. Moreover, the stick had an enameled and shining pommel with some pallid sapphires set in it.

My second leg. For the rest of my life.

"You suffered a serious damage to your spine and head", the archiater said. "It seems the damage to your head resolved, but the one to your spine is more severe. The fall from your horse has crippled you and, unfortunately, the right leg won't recover the original mobility. I'm sorry, Majesty. I'm afraid, but your days as hunter are over. From now on, you must devote your time to less wearing activities."

Espio seized the walking stick from Celete's hands and dug it in the floor. Silvaco and Graunio hunched forward and held their hands out, ready to seize Espio in case he couldn't accomplish the never so distressing action of standing up.

Espio's weight was supported by the walking stick and the left leg only. He managed to stand up straight, but Silvaco and Graunio didn't stop waving their hands and looked afraid.

"Can you make it?" Silvaco said.

Espio sighed. "Step aside. I want to try walking."

Silvaco and Graunio drew just one step back, but didn't withdraw their hands.

Espio threw all his weight on the left leg and moved the walking stick forward. He dug it and shook it to evaluate that it was firmly dug in the floor. He charged on the walking stick and moved the first step. Silvaco and Graunio restrained themselves from crashing against him.

"Do you feel it comfortable? Is it of the right height?" Celete said.

"It's not half bad. At least I won't spend what I've left to live in a bed or carried in a palanquin", Espio addressed the archiater. "Do you think I'd be dangerous to walk till my mother's room? I'd like to visit her."

"You must tell us if you feel comfortable doing it", the archiater said. "There's nothing more I can do to improve your conditions."

"Then, Celete, after you", Celete turned the door handle and went out. "Silvaco, Graunio. Follow me in case the walking stick will turn out to be an unreliable support."

"At your disposal, Majesty."

As Espio reached his mother's room door, his forehead was already trickling sweat. Celete opened the door of the room in which Espio's mother had rested for four long days and as many nights. Only her face was sticking out of the blanket, tucked in to her shoulders. Espio got beside the bed, laid the left hand on the seat back and slumped into the chair. He moved the blanket away up to her breast. He seized her left hand. It was so cold, so distant. He tightened it.

"She was an extraordinary woman and, perhaps, the worthiest Queen, not of royal blood, this Kingdom has ever had", Celete said. "See you like this reminds me of your birth, Majesty. The joy in your mother's eyes, the love in her caresses. She loved you and that's the reason why she died, I fear. She had been taking care of you tirelessly for a lunarhalf, hoping to see you open your eyes again. Hoping not to see you breathe your last."

"The guard outside Eristoph's chapel told me your mother had come down to pray for you the night before she died", Silvaco said. "She had watered the sprouts of life, praying Eristoph to spare your life and take hers."

Espio caressed her on the left cheek. It was still wrinkled by the trickling of tears and by the pangs of hunger.

You're the only woman who ever loved me. And I never showed you the appreciation I should have returned you.

Espio put his right hand on his forehead. He examined her peaceful expression and her combed hair.

You were a Queen in life, and you'll be a Queen even after.

"My mother has been lying in this bed since four days now. When will the exequies be held?"

"Majesty, we're waiting for news from Bruarte's Landing", Celete said.

My mother will be forced to lie in this bed, close to my sorrow, but far from my father's hug and Eristoph's peace, waiting for that egocentric Racitro to come back from his campaign. And, knowing his boundless arrogance, certainly, Racitro will come back later and later. My mother's body will start putrefying soon.

He fixed a lock of her silky hair. You died for me, mum. For the sorrow of watching me lying in that bed.

I make you a promise. Your death won't go unpunished.

Espio waited for his advisors to come in his study. Celete was the first one who knocked on the door. He came in accompanied by his heavy eyelids. A lively Merete came in just after the elder Celete, with a smile hidden by the thick beard. Then, even the fresh-faced heir of the House of Gariant came in. Espio raised an eyebrow and examined each of Ricon's steps. The nipper advanced, head bent.

Your father would be a valuable addition for the royal council. I don't need other proof in addition to your presence at this council and the fact that you were appointed by Racitro to serve you as food for my lions.

Merete waved a message come from Bruarte's Landing. "Prince Racitro informs us that the Mellrose's fleet assault to our coast is, in his own words, miserably sunk", Merete sneered. "The town has been won back, though it is no more than a pile of smoking ruins. And, as soon as possible, the Prince will be back to the castle in condolences for our dear departed Queen."

"That's comforting", Ricon said. "Putting our lives in the Champion's hands has been the wisest choice. The Prince enlisted more troops marching on the road between the capital and Bruarte's Landing than your rule of eight had done."

A twinge ran down Espio's back.

"We must announce some worthy celebrations in view of his return in the capital", Ricon said. "Of course, the town is in condolences for the Queen's death. But we've won a war after all."

"A battle is not a war", Espio said. "King Torekron of Mellrose is not the type to give up so easily. It won't take him more than two years to set up a new fleet. And, next time, our enemies will be aware of which waters they must navigate in to avoid another defeat."

"That doesn't change the fact that the people will see your brother as a hero and a conqueror", Celete said.

Conqueror? He's just won back some lands already annexed to my Kingdom.

"Can you picture what will happen when he parade along the Road of Salt?" Ricon said. "Two sides of people will chant his name. And, in my opinion, there won't be better place to celebrate his triumphal return than the Arena."

After so many nonsenses, what a good idea from you. "You look enthusiastic, Ricon. But I'd like to personally arrange the celebrations for my brother's return."

"Of course", a cheerful Ricon said.

"Well, then. Let's start immediately", Espio clapped his hands. Silvaco and Graunio came in from a lateral door.

"Celete. Merete. Please, sit at my side of the table."

Ricon looked around. He turned pale and curled his venomous lips into a priceless grimace. Silvaco and Graunio tugged Ricon by the shoulders and clutched their rough fingers on the youngster's doublet.

Espio seized a file containing a large number of scribbled parchments and pretended to consult it. "It has come to my attention that my accident had not actually been an accident. It had been plotted by some of my courtiers to support my brother's ascent to the throne of Ridget."

Ricon looked away. Espio kept on staring at Ricon, ready to give him a withering look the moment their eyes met again. "After a thorough and meticulous inquiry this tribunal has decided to bring you to trial, Ricon Gariant. You're charged with attempted regicide. How do you plead?"

"I deny both the action and the intention", Ricon said.

Hmm...You've come prepared. An opportunity to delight myself.

Silvaco dug his fingers in Ricon's doublet, broadening its wrinkles.

"According to the reconstruction made by Maruoco Gariant, actually your father, the greyhounds attacked the royal courser because they had smelled a pair of deer ribs hidden in the quiver hanged beside my saddle", Espio said. "I recall that, before breaking my horse to a gallop, I had pulled a clean arrow out of my quiver. So, the ribs were not inside the quiver before this fact."

Merete put on the table some arrows wrapped in a cloth. Merete showed Ricon the dried blood stains and the dents provoked by the hounds teeth on the arrows. Silvaco pushed Ricon's snout over the arrows, so that the youngster could better smell their blood scent.

"As you can see", Espio said. "All the recovered arrows have traces of the blood dripped by the ribs."

Celete put on the table Maire Valesi's written statement. "I beg you to take note of Lady Maire Valesi's written statement. She reported that you had stretched your hand towards the King's quiver as you were outriding him on right."

"It's a lie", Ricon said. "It's lady Valesi's word against mine. And, if I'm not wrong, she outrode you as well. So, she had the chance to insert the ribs down your quiver."

"Oh, really?" Espio stared back at him. The seed of doubt sprouted up in Ricon's eyes. It grew and devoured him. "But Maire Valesi has outridden me on left. She's never had the chance to access my quiver. You, on the other hand, have outridden me on right and, at that exact moment, my courser has swerved. And that's because you have outridden me very close. Close enough to make sure you could properly insert the ribs in my quiver."

"Majesty, I beg you. Believe me", Ricon fell on his knees, elbows dug in the table, hands clasped in plea and head bent. "I didn't do it. I adore you. I love you. Someone is trying to frame me."

Espio addressed Merete and Celete. "How do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty", Celete said.

"Pathetic", Merete said.

"I agree", Espio said.

"Ricon raised his head. He was crying. Silvaco tugged him. But Ricon could nonetheless seize Espio's hands. "Majesty. I beg you. Have mercy."

Espio nodded to Silvaco, who stopped tugging Ricon. Espio stared at Ricon. "Who ordered the hit?"

Ricon didn't answer.

Come on. I know Racitro did. Just say his name.

Espio freed from those dirty traitor's hands. "Give me a name."

Ricon uttered nothing more than imploring hiccoughs.

This is a waste of time. This idiot has not yet understood what he's going to face.

"Ricon of the House of Gariant", Espio said. "You have been found guilty of attempting to kill your King. And, since this action has been committed on your, and your alone, initiative, the court hereby sentences you to death."

"It was him", he pointed his finger towards Celete. "I was commissioned by him."

Espio peeked at Celete out of the corner of his eye. Celete didn't glance back at Espio and persisted in staring back at Ricon.

It doesn't sound like a wild accusation. Why not Merete, instead?

"This is just an allegation"; Celete said. "Can you provide any proof supporting it?"

"Proofs? No...I..." Ricon said amid one hiccough and the other.

"You'll be jailed in the Sapphire Palace dungeons until your sentence will be executed", Espio said.

"But you promised you'd spare my life if I gave you a name", Ricon said.

"Have you taken notes, Merete?" Espio said. "Make a copy for Ricon here, so that he could ascertain that I've never promised any pardon."

Silvaco and Graunio enchained Ricon by the wrists and dragged him. Ricon howled, shouted, kicked and cried.

My dear Ricon, I must be thankful to you. Espio peeked at Celete. Your contribution to the royal council, even though short, has turned out to be fundamental.

A hundred trumpets raised their blare to the sky, so that even the most boorish people, busy milking cows or digging wells for their own excrements, could know that Racitro, the so-called conqueror, was back to the capital. The bumpkins crowded along the Road of Salt, kicking and grunting as if they were pigs packed in a pigsty. They leaded Racitro and the highest-ranking officers of the army towards the castle. As the blare of trumpets dulled, a unique joyful intonation rose from the streets. "Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro. Rah-chit-ro."

"Welcomed like a King", Espio watched the entire scene from the top of the castle walls overlooking the Road of Salt.

"More like a conqueror", Merete said.

Ah, now I see it. It's my throne he's coming to conquest.

Metallic rumbles beat the time of Racitro's advance towards the castle gate. Some idiots were beating the bottom of their pots with ladles. The guards came out on the Road of Salt and kept the commoners complaisant to Racitro at bay.

"I should go to welcome my brother as befits him. I'm sure that, not tired at all for the long march, he'll pay homage to my mother, whose poor limbs became putrescent as we were waiting for him."

Espio came inside his mother's room without announcing himself. Racitro was on his feet, beside Espio's mother's bed, holding the armet under the armpit and still wearing the armor. Veneramanda was sitting beside Racitro, hand in hand with him.

Espio reached the foot of the bed at a slow pace. He peeked at Racitro out of the corner of his eye, but Racitro didn't deem him worthy even of a glance.

Look, Racitro. Why don't you enjoy the outcomes of your conspiracy?

Espio turned towards his mother's pale face. The wrinkles on her face reminded Espio of the petals of a withered rose. Racitro ran his hand on her left cheek, spoiling the peacefulness instilled by the smile Espio's cares had shaped on her face. Then, he ran his dirty hand among her hair, messing around the locks framing her face and exalting her sempiternal candor.

You, mean being. Your ungainly hands are made to spoil what's most beautiful and regal.

Espio examined Racitro's face features. It seemed he was overwhelmed by melancholy and barely comforted by Veneramanda's standing beside him.

At least, you are not showing off that bold, and almost radiant, bearing you showed off when our father died. Nonetheless, brother, you don't look remorseful. You have her blood on those same hands with which you're caressing her so sweetly.

After devoting no more than two minutes to Espio's mother, Racitro raised his head and looked towards Espio. The abject beast curled his lips into a disgraceful delighted grimace.

You're a rat. You're taking delight of your miserable actions just before my dear departed mother.

Espio stared back at Racitro.

I won't wait for Eristoph to turn you to dust. I'll do it personally.

Espio heated up. His strengths faded fast and he started seeing only blurry images. Espio groped for the chair. He wheezed and collapsed on the chair, but didn't lose consciousness. He ignored what Celete was whispering in his ear. He stared at Racitro and Veneramanda, who, despite Espio's sudden malaise, had not left Racitro's hold to take care of Espio.

The rat sneered. He's looking at how much he's made me weak and, despite the bad surprise of finding me still alive, he's thinking that time is ripe to put his buttocks on the throne.

"I must wear a more befitting suit", Racitro said. He took leave of Espio without reporting him about the outcome of the military campaign.

Followed by Silvaco and Graunio, Espio headed for the Arena of Battles. After ten steps, he was already out of breath, but didn't give up and went on. His unexpected entry took the trombonists by surprise; they sounded an out of tone cacophony unworthy of a geese corral. Dirty and rejoicing, the commoners were crowding on the bleachers to pay homage to Racitro and to the highest-ranking officers of the army.

Ten Steps forward, a father, still wearing the armor, nestled his daughter among his arms.

Who knows how many of the commoners thought my brother and I had the same display of love.

As he passed by, some men and women wearing an armor pushed forward towards the royal guards.

"Rule of eight is a war crime", a young woman with bloodthirsty canines said.

A dirty boor, with a scar furrowing his right cheek from the chin to the eyelid, spat before Espio's feet. "You coward. You've been too busy hiding behind your castle walls as our sons were fighting to death for you. All hail King Racitro. All hail to the King who fights beside his people and for his people."

Silvaco took his whip and tried to put down those insolences. The commoners started pumping their fists in the air as a sing of threat. Their armpits gave forth fetid miasmas which forced Espio to hold his nose.

"All hail King Racitro. All hail King Racitro."

The damp and sticky spit of a mean splashed against Espio's left cheek. The rogue was thrown to the ground before Espio's feet by the guards and there held. Espio pulled out a silk handkerchief and started wiping away his cheek. But that revolting spit seemed not to want to dry.

Espio cleaned his cheek as best as he could and leaned forward. Silvaco opened wide the rogue's abject lips and Espio inserted the handkerchief deep in the rogue's throat. "If this unpleasantness happens again, I'll give order to cut off your tongue."

Espio walked beside the rogue. As he passed by, he dug the walking stick tip into one of the rogue's buttock. The man complained, but the handkerchief stuck his cry in his throat.

Espio made himself comfortable on the throne. The lowering of his buttocks was followed by a mass muttering and a storm of whistles and roars. As usual, Espio avoided looking insulted or lending weight to those inferior beings' opinions.

Racitro came in later than usual. Nonetheless, he was welcomed by a rejoicing of roars and choruses. Racitro exhibited in his usual march along the walls. The army generals, less accustomed to that kind of foolishness, walked towards the middle of the battle field and paid deferent homage to Espio.

Fomented by Racitro, the commoners started chanting. "Exile Espio. Crown Racitro. Exile Espio. Crown Racitro. Exile Espio. Crown Racitro."

The rhythm of that ignoble and disrespectful litany was beaten by the commoner's fist pumping towards the sky and by a drumming of ladles on the pots.

"Please, silence, my dear subjects", Espio said.

The request was welcomed by whistles. "Soothe your animosity, my subjects, or I'll be forced to celebrate our heroes in more discreet circumstances."

That silenced them and forced Racitro to come before the generals and raise his eyes to the throne.

I won't give you the glory of that handover you yearn for.

"It's with our highest pleasure that we all pay homage to your feats and to all the people who fought against our common enemies and wiped them out. We all extend our praise to the soldiers, either if they've found their way back home and their relatives' hugs, or if they've given their lives for the homeland, finding Eristoph's hug. And, it's most of all in memory of these last ones that I ask you to observe a minute's silence. And, in conformity with my celebrated generosity, I solemnly promise I'll compensate the families of fallen soldiers."

Overheated by the good news, the commoners shouted their joy. Racitro kicked a stone.

The mean money, Racitro. Always the mean money.

Espio raised his right hand. A cortège of pages came out of the portcullis and pinned medals on the generals' chests. "I'm sorry I'm not personally pinning those medals on your chests, my brave commanders. But I hope that a worthy standing ovation from the crowd will make you feel equally honored."

Racitro kept on staring back at Espio even when one of the pages pinned the medal on his chest.

You demand the crown, not a medal, don't you? Well, don't be that sulky. I'm going to gratify you with a special gift.

Espio raised his left hand. Ricon Gariant was dragged in shackles by two guards through the portcullis. The nobleman slithered on his knees uttering laments unworthy of his rank.

Espio looked towards poor Maruoco, who mimed with the lips a plea of forgiveness. Espio shook his head.

The army generals took leave of Espio. A dumbfounded Racitro was left alone in the middle of the battle field.

Genuflected before Racitro, Ricon slithered and grabbed his ankles. An astounded Racitro raised his head.

So, I finally managed to uproot that disrespectful arrogance you've come back to Ridget with.

"People of Ridget. My dear brother. The man who's lying before the Prince is Ricon Gariant. He's guilty of high treason. He made an alliance with King Torekron of Mellrose and sold him information which allowed our enemies to kill many of your loved ones."

The commoners showered Ricon with whistles, insults and spits.

"And now, to do justice to the ones who died, I'm asking you, my dear brother, Prince of the Kingdom of Ridget and war hero, to use your fair and valiant hand to take the life away from this despicable man."

"Death to the traitor. Death to the traitor", the crowd shouted.

Racitro looked hesitant.

And now? What are you going to do? If you spare his life, you'll lose your grip on the commoners. On the opposite, if you opt for justice, you'll show to your minions, hidden among my courtiers, how abject and ungenerous you really are.

Racitro kicked Ricon in the face. Ricon panted in a cloud of dust. Racitro got closer, but looked unsure. A guard handed him the sword. Even if reluctant, Racitro took it. Ricon grabbed Racitro's boots, head bent and sank in the soil dried by the unexpected spring heat wave. Racitro raised the sword to the sky. Eristoph drank some unfaithful blood.

The officiants started stamping their feet on the ground in a litany summoning Eristoph's glory. Espio's mother's body, washed from head to foot, was carried on a litter and placed beside the sand bed where she would find the little compassionate Eristoph's hug. The amber glares of the sunset made her face skin shine like gold.

Espio bent his head towards her. Silvaco lifted her head and Espio wrapped a green and gold wrap around her neck.

During you entire life you showed the temperament and dedication which our family's sovereigns hold dear. And, certainly, Veneramanda could have taken good benefit from your teaching about the best attitude and bearing befitting a Queen.

Her body and hair gave forth the sweet floral scent of lavender and jasmine; the scent covered the fetid exhalations caused by Racitro's late return. Espio drew back and stood up between Racitro, on his right, and Veneramanda, on his left.

Racitro was requested to lay Espio's mother in the eternal sands.

Racitro leaned forward and, for the first time since he was born, the suit he was wearing didn't show up his muscular prominences.

It seems that, for once, you've subjected yourself to the distressing beyond measure practice of allowing a tailor to take your measurements. But you have not done it for mum. You've done it because a King needs also a befitting appearance.

Racitro and an equally strapping youngster laid Espio's mother's body among Eristoph's lips.

Grain after grain, Espio's mother's legs and belly sank. Espio stared at her face. The sands devoured her eyes, her wrinkled lips; finally, her gentle nose. Espio shut his eyes and pressed his chin on his chest. He sighed and, when he opened the eyes again, he saw only motionless sands before his feet and the northern sky deepened in the gloomiest darkness.

Espio peeked at Racitro. And here the last barrier between Racitro and his ambition has fallen.

After the service, master Tobiarte announced himself at Espio's study.

"I'm asking urgent audience, Majesty", he said through the door ajar.

Espio put aside the documents he was examining by the light of a candle. Tobiarte came in, but he wasn't alone. Racitro, who since his return had not exchanged even a word with Espio, came in without permission.

What are you doing here? And along with master Tobiarte, in addition? Usually, the issues raised by master Tobiarte don't find more than your yawn.

"Take a seat", Espio said.

Master Tobiarte laid on the table a pile of six tomes which labels were still covered with a light blanket of dust, dotted in some small spots by the traces of thin fingers. The yellowish color of the pages indicated that the books were very ancient and the first pages were so worn out that they looked on the verge of turning to dust if leafed through with inadequate attention. Espio leaned forward and stared at the label.

'Genealogy of the House of Sigard.' Mum's family?

Master Tobiarte handed Espio the tome. Espio opened the book on the page devoted to a certain Edolco Sigard. "What's the point, master? Can you tell me why you so urgently asked this audience?"

The master started flicking through the parchment in his hands and spread them on the table, some to Racitro's attention, some to Espio's one. Racitro took, perchance, the thinnest file.

"I asked both of you to participate because the archiater told me something very important concerning your mother's death."

Espio leafed through the last scribbled pages of the book. He found the page reporting his mother's personal and biographical data. Every note there reported had been written with a different ink and by a different hand.

The unstable flaming of a candle made the latest notes shine. Judging by the letters overlapping, Tobiarte himself must have written those notes.

"Your mother died because of a stroke", Tobiarte said. "I was told about it a good lunarquarter ago and I sent formal request to the master serving the Sigards to take the same tomes you're now reading to the capital."

"Why is so important to know which disease killed her?" Espio said.

"Check which disease killed our aunt", Racitro? "And our grandmother and her brother. And even the great grandmother we never met."

Espio was speechless. The molten tallow of a candle fell on the table. "A hereditary disease?"

"You're right, Majesty", the master stopped putting the parchments in order. "And that means you two could be subjected to that same disease. It could affect one of you, both, or none. We can't know it."

My mother was fifty-seven. She could have lived some years more, but not too many.

Espio leafed through page after page. The page devoted to his aunt dilacerated in his hands.

My aunt died when she was forty-three...The grandmother at forty-seven...The great grand-mother at thirty-seven.

Espio leafed through till he found his grandmother's brother's page. His hand trembled.

Thirty-two. The only male in the Sigard family, who died for this disease, had died when he was as old as me.

Espio swallowed a bitter lump. His stomach gurgled. He took long and deep breaths. The ink on the parchment got darker and the letters started overlapping one over the other. Espio raised his head. A puff of air put out the candle.

Espio closed the tome between two twisters of dust. "How could it happen? Who allowed the Sigards' miserable heritage to penetrate in the royal lineage? The whole royal family is in peril."

"Nobody knew this particular disease when your father married your mother", Tobiarte said. "And there's no literature antecedent to your great grandmother. At the time, there was no way to advise against your parents' marriage and not consecrate their love."

Love. Family. Racitro. All these words bring ruin. The love my parents generated me with, gave me the unpleasantness of a hereditary disease which, any time now, could fall on my head as deadly as an ax. Unless my brother, who is sitting in front of me, has not taken an ax with him.

His heart throbbed. He put both hands on his temples and started rubbing them. There's no more time. My mother's death needs immediate justice, or she could never get it. A higher power, unbendable to my will, has interfered in this dispute. There's no more time.

### Chapter 15 - Racitro

Racitro laid little Clelia in a washbowl full to the brim with limpid water. The baby tapped his hands on the water surface and raised funny spurts. The wet-nurse reprimanded her.

Veneramanda leaned forward on the opposite side of the washbowl and gazed at Clelia with joyful eyes.

The wet-nurse wiped the water away her face with a cloth and went away. Racitro looked for Veneramanda's eyes. He found them, but only when their joviality had turned to dismay. "I've reason to be upset."

Veneramanda turned around and peeked at the wet-nurse. She waited till the woman was out of the room and leaned forward towards Racitro's ear. He went into raptures smelling the fragrant, savory and floral aroma given forth by his beloved's hair. "You gotta believe me. Your brother is anxious due to your mother's recent death and to the discovery of this hereditary disease. I fear Espio suspects you're behind the assassination attempt. Celete told me Ricon had not revealed compromising information towards you during the trial, but I don't feel safe."

Clelia waved her small fist as she was brandishing a knife.

You heard Espio's name and, as my good descendant, you immediately got excited at the thought of overthrowing him.

Racitro withdrew and stared at Veneramanda on the opposite side of the washbowl. "That disease worries me too. Nobody can predict who among us has inherited that disease before its onset. Therefore, from my point of view, nothing has changed and I can't wait for the disease to take him."

She gave him a withering look. Racitro put his hand over his mouth.

I forgot about the thousands of ever listening ears hidden in these walls.

"You must not be scared by that disease. You're a healthy and strong man. Espio, on the other hand, is sicklier due to his more comfortable life and to his injury."

"This must not change our plans. I can't afford to wait for the natural course of a disease which could never have an onset", he leaned forward towards Veneramanda. "If I want to be King, I need to ascend now."

"King", Clelia said looking at Racitro. "Queen", she said directing her small blue eyes to the mother.

Even if Clelia doesn't stop giving me satisfactions, her innocence can compromise us. She's learning very quickly how to talk.

"Maybe we should desist talking before Clelia about such critical matters", Racitro said.

He examined the dim light in Veneramanda's eyes. He moved around the wooden staved washbowl and reached her. He tried to wrap her in his hug, but she refused and turned around. Racitro leaned forward at his beloved's ear and whispered. "Tell me the reason behind your anxieties."

Veneramanda bent his head and remained silent.

Racitro devoted his attentions to Clelia. He seized a sponge, but the baby persisted in pattering her hands on the water surface.

Veneramanda turned around all in a sudden. The fluttering braids gave off a vortex full of that magnificent natural fragrance pervading her velvety skin and silky hair. Racitro stretched his hand to caress her. She withdrew.

"How many nights have passed since the last time your brother requested you to witness, in the comfort of our armoire, to our intercourses?"

Since I came back home it has never happened. But I thought it was because of his injury. Or is there another reason?

"Exactly", she said as she had read in his mind. "Your brother's nights have become lustless and full of agony and apprehension. At times, when I wake up in the night, he's not in the bed. He stands up before the window and peeps out through the curtains. On other occasions, while he's sleeping, I hear him talking about matters of blood which needs to be solved."

"I don't see any reason to get alarmed."

"You don't know. Last night, before falling asleep, wide-awake and clear headed, he..." She bent her head. "He...Cuddled me."

Racitro grinded his teeth. He grasped his left hand with the right one and cracked his knuckles.

How I'd like to bash in his head.

Then, he sighed. "Looking at how you're worked up I can imagine it was nothing that satisfied or pleased you.

"How obtuse you're", Veneramanda sulked. "He's never cuddled me before. I fear he was getting ready to console me."

"Console you? And for what?"

Veneramanda looked away, hiding her glistening eyes. She shook her head and choked back the tears; she shut her eyes and let her chin drop. She leaned forward towards Racitro, who was overwhelmed by her sweet perfume. "For your death."

Veneramanda banged her forehead on his chest. She banged over and over again, as she wanted to hurt herself. Finally, she flopped against Racitro's chest. "The Sapphire Palace is no longer a safe place for you. You need to leave and no later than tonight."

Racitro's heart skipped a beat.

Are you saying me goodbye?

Racitro lost control of his hands and shoved her. Veneramanda moved back, she put her hands to her mouth and, then, over her entire face.

"Mum", Clelia stood up inside the washbowl and dripped some water on the floor.

How I'd like to yell. I'm not a coward and I won't run away before that incompetent Espio.

Veneramanda went near Racitro. She stretched her hands as she wanted not to be refused. "Someday you'll come back to lay claim to me, your daughter and the throne. But, for the time being, let Celete and I take care of this issue."

Whatever I ever had and I'll ever want in my life is inside these walls. You. Clelia. The Arena. The throne. Leaving means losing everything.

Veneramanda put her hands on her eyes. Racitro seized her wrists and moved her hands away. She raised her chin and listened to him. "How can you ask me to run away leaving me, as last memory, your face trickled with tears and your reddened eyes? I don't want to see you like that again. You always have to be radiant."

She choked back her tears and smiled, with the lips first, then with the eyes. "Are you going to follow my advice?"

I can't. But he nodded.

Sat on his dear chair before the iron portcullis, Racitro started twirling the sword in his hands. He yawned.

Have at you, Espio. Tonight, I'll slap your credibility as King once and for all.

The sword crashed on the dusty ground, bringing Racitro back to his senses. Unconsciously, he had lost hold of his sword. Racitro stretched his hand to pick it up. He felt uncomfortable stretching the arm. He thought he had tightened the pauldron too much and loosened the laces.

The locker room door opened before he could lace them up. The two boys operating the winch ran at the door to chase the unwelcome intruder away, whoever he was. The two boys halted all in a sudden. Silvaco and Graunio came in. After their polished for the occasion armors, there was Veneramanda. Then, two trainers Racitro hated, an armorer and even two brawny lion-tamers.

How many arms do you need to do your dirty work?

Racitro stood up. He lost hold of the sword and it crashed to the ground. Racitro kneeled to pick it up.

Veneramanda came before him and mouthed something. Racitro didn't get it at all and frowned. She approached him and whispered the sentence. "He's sent me to say you goodbye."

Racitro stared at her. She didn't say anything further and looked away as she was asking his forgiveness.

You don't know more than what you've just told me and that's pining you away because you feel responsible for what will happen to me.

Racitro stretched his arms towards her and tried to wrap her in his hug, but Silvaco's tactless barking stopped him halfway. "We're here to fulfill His Majesty's orders."

Racitro put his forefinger to his lips. The noise made by the fervent crowd thronged on the Arena bleachers overwhelmed the bystanders' breaths. "Can you hear them? They're eager to see me fight. To see their champion, their hero, their conqueror. The people want it. Espio can't oppose."

"You must not address him by name, boor", Silvaco snarled. "You must address your brother as His Majesty."

That inflamed Racitro and he pattered on the earthy ground with the right feet first, then with the other. Veneramanda seized his left hand and appeased him.

"His Majesty wants to see you fight", Silvaco's black eyes caught fire like two suns. "Nonetheless, he's decided to liven up the evening in order to increase his own delight. You're going to fight, but in different circumstances."

Silvaco raised his right hand. After the gesture, the two trainers, the two tamers and the armorer approached Racitro. Graunio importuned Veneramanda and tried to convince her to separate her hand from Racitro's one.

Don't you dare touch her with those dirty hands.

"You're a vile coward", Racitro stared back at Silvaco. "It's easy to hide behind these five brutes, letting them do your own dirty work in your place. The reason why you shrewdly avoided taking the battle field and challenging me personally over the last years is that you're as cowardly as your master."

"Hold on", Silvaco was audacious enough to stare back at Racitro.

Graunio seized Veneramanda's wrist. She slapped him and the sound echoed on the walls of that small den.

You have pluck, my beloved.

She turned her pleading face towards Racitro. "Don't do anything foolish."

Silvaco got closer and planted his dribbling snout in front of Racitro's nose. Racitro bent his head to keep on staring back at him. For just a moment, he looked at those horrible blackheads marking Silvaco's nasal prominence. Then, he stared back at those harsh black eyes able to twist even Racitro's own reflection.

"You don't know how many times I requested the King to let me challenge you personally in order to curb your hubris and deprive you of the championship title", Silvaco snarled. He was frothing at the mouth. "But I was sworn to the King to defend him and the royal family, and, unfortunately, you are part of his family."

When I become King, I won't grant you of the delights of the exile. I'll charge you of my personal protection, so that this assignment will cause you tribulation till the day you die.

Racitro smiled. Silvaco frowned.

"By command of his Majesty, tonight, you'll face your challenger without the armor, the shield and whatever weapon."

Racitro raised his right steel covered fist. He skimmed Silvaco's chin. Silvaco drew one step back. Racitro seized his own right hand with the left one and slipped off the glove. He wiggled the glove, threatening to slap it on the dog's cruel snout. He threw the glove on the ground. Then, he raised his right fist at the level of Silvaco's left cheek. "I could knock you out even barehanded."

"Well, then", Silvaco said. "Strip him."

"Unlike my brother, I don't need such attentions", Racitro said. Veneramanda took the hint and smiled. "Get out. Now."

"I don't trust you", Silvaco said. He addressed the two boys. "You two, sucklings, get back to your hovels. We'll accomplish your duties at the portcullis."

Graunio lowered a harassing hand on Veneramanda's wrist. She wiggled out of his hold. "I need a moment alone with the Prince."

Silvaco agreed with an annoyed nod. "Don't take too long, my Queen. The crowd is fervent."

She wrapped her arms around Racitro's neck well before the door reached the jamb. Racitro waited for a kiss she didn't concede. "I begged you to leave the Sapphire Palace."

"I'm not scared, my beloved. Espio won't get any amusement tonight. You'll see. I'll defeat his paid through the nose henchman even unarmed."

"But how can I help you now? He...Tells me no more than what he wants me to know."

Silvaco opened the door and slinked his barking snout in. "We can't wait any longer, Majesty."

Veneramanda ran her hands between Racitro's ones. Then, she smiled, as Racitro had asked her, and vanished over the door.

It's not goodbye. I promise.

After Racitro had stripped off all the steel he had been wearing, Silvaco appeared at the door. The loyal dog never walked too far from the five brutes he had brought along. Racitro was wearing nothing more than cloth trousers, boots and a linen shirt no thicker than his own skin. But, as a good doggy fetching the stick to the master to be properly petted, Silvaco pointed his finger just above Racitro's groin. "That leathered belt. You could employ it like a weapon."

Racitro undid the belt buckle and slipped the belt off the loops. His cloth trousers fell on the ground. "As you can see, if I do it, I'll put my junk on display before tens of thousands of eyes. To the great amusement of Espio, I'd think."

Facing the subtle enigma, Silvaco stopped wagging his sword. Silvaco turned around and bent his head.

The brutes picked up all the armor plates, his shield with the engraved Lion and his dear sword, partner of Racitro for such a great number of victories to make Espio feel giddy. The two lion-tamers took control of the winch in place of the two boys.

And here it is the last clause of the new terms Espio's imposed me. Certainly, these two brutes have been taught to prevent me from performing my traditional entry in concomitance with Espio's cortège.

The wait got agonizing. Choruses full of displeasure rose from the Arena bleachers. With his hands clutched around the portcullis icy metallic bars, Racitro glanced at the two lion-tamers in charge of lifting the portcullis. The two men kept their faces straight, they didn't glance at Racitro or at each other. Racitro resumed peeking beyond the iron bars and contemplated the faint gleams of the ardent bonfires on the battle field. His stomach gurgled. Racitro started digging a hole in that same earthy ground where lethal spikes were inserted.

The trumpets blared. The portcullis spikes unblocked. The two lion-tamers were busy lifting the portcullis. Racitro stared at them. "A gentle homage from His Majesty to the Champion", the most bearded one said. "The King loves traditions."

Racitro contemplated the tamer's neck muscles contractions and his mendacious lips.

Or, perhaps, a homage to what he hopes will be my last appearance.

Racitro waited till the tamers locked the chain to the catches before moving a step under the spikes.

Espio is sneaky. He'll hit me when I least expect it.

Racitro sprinted to cross below the spikes, but they didn't move. One of the two tamers gazed inside the tunnel; then, he gave his mate order to lower the portcullis.

Racitro moved a first unsteady step. The evening breeze blowing in the tunnel slipped inside his sleeves and made him shiver. He advanced towards the more and more swaying and unsteady lights the bonfires were emitting. He emerged in the night darkness and the crowd welcomed him with a roar even more resounding and flattering than he remembered.

There's no way you can persuade the people to side with you, my dear.

Racitro got closer to the light circle surrounding a bonfire. The crowd flinched, perhaps, because he was wearing nothing more than rags. Racitro raised his right hand to the sky, a gesture to defuse the audience's anxieties just as his owns. He eyed some girls, but his lips didn't want to curl into a smile. The women threw him the usual gifts and Racitro picked up some flowers. He turned towards the royal dais just in time to see Espio lowering his buttocks on the throne. Racitro looked away before Espio could glance back at him.

What do you have in store? Come on.

"Exile Espio. Crown Racitro", the audience on the bleachers attacked.

Racitro reached the furrowed line and started pattering on it. Below his boots, the ground warped as it was more malleable and hazardous than it had ever been.

He waited motionless, staring to the opposite portcullis and, to his utter surprise, with palpitations.

A man, even though steel covered and armed, could be a more submissive opponent than a wild beast.

The portcullis rattled in the runners. Racitro peeked at the gap under the portcullis. Something shone, hard to say if it was a sword or a fang. Racitro followed the slow portcullis lifting towards the stops. His heart throbbed.

A tiny man, whose head reached the level of Racitro's chest, emerged from the darkness. He was equipped with a shield locked to the right forearm and was brandishing a longsword in the left hand.

A left-handed. He'd have caused me more difficulties if I had sword and shield.

The enemy's armor emitted shimmering glimmers as the man walked among the bonfires like a tinplated puppet fully disharmonic in his movements.

Racitro smashed his right fist in the left palm. He felt the strength reviving in his muscles. He jumped on the spot and found his legs joints nimble and relaxed.

After buttering Espio up with a bow, the opponent reached the starting line. He kept his feet paired and the shield on his left side way too low. At least, he was brandishing the sword by the hilt, even though the point was below the level of his own pelvis.

He's underestimating me. Good.

The rumbling echo of the horn didn't soothe the opponent's boldness. The opponent advanced, sword well high and shield parallel to the left side. A hoarse voice, sharpened by a foreign accent, reached Racitro's ears. "Maybe it's in your self-interest to give up immediately, Prince."

The light shimmering on the opponent's armet highlighted his satisfied sneer for a few moments. Racitro raised both fists at the level of his own chest. Then, he shot a smile full of defiance at his opponent.

The opponent sprinted towards Racitro and dealt a slash from left. Racitro swerved two steps out of the sword's range. The opponent dealt a slash from right, followed by a downcut from left with which he barely shooed away the flies annoying him. The opponent attacked with a downcut from left. Racitro moved back, ducked, sprinted ahead and pirouetted on the rival's side. The sword twirled, but went wide. Racitro seized the opponent's right wrist. He tried to lift the opponent up, but struggled under that heavy weight of flesh and steel. He pulled stronger and threw his rival in the mud. He drew some steps back and got his breath back, just in time to enjoy the crowd ovation.

Dirty and even wheezy, the warrior twirled his sword as he stood up. Racitro allowed him to assault. He dodged three slashes without even sweating. He ducked and dodged the last slash. He snuck up behind his rival's back and slipped the armet off his rival's head. Then, he drew back, two steps in quartata to dodge a furious slash from left. It was jubilation. The crowd shouted so loud that, certainly, Espio's buttocks were trembling. Racitro ran towards the bleachers and threw the armet to the adoring crowd. Many got all hot and bothered to conquest that trophy, while Espio turned up his nose.

You deprived me of the steel. I'll return the favor depriving the warrior fighting in your stead of the steel. And, lastly, I'll deprive you of the power.

Racitro halted five Steps away from the opponent, who was smiling. The warrior attacked with the umpteenth, predictable, downcut. Racitro dodged it and moved forward enough to trap the rival's left forearm and hold it. Holding the opponent by the elbow, Racitro knocked him over on the ground with a sweep. Then, he kicked the opponent in the face and squeezed his legs around the rival's armed arm. Racitro snatched the sword out of the rival's fingers and threw it far.

Racitro tried to stand up, but the rival's hands, as insidious as tentacles, wrapped around his trousers. Racitro elbowed him in the face. The rival's nasal septum cracked. Racitro stood up, picked up the sword and twirled it with a grace unknown to his opponent. The ground under Racitro's feet was quaking and he felt the crisp air on his face, as all the capital started chanting the litany Racitro held dear. "Exile Espio. Crown Racitro."

Lying on the left side, the rival spat blood and saliva. A copious filament of scarlet mucus oozed from his left nostril. The rival wheezed. The evident prominence of his broken septum folded up. Racitro glanced at Espio.

I won't allow you to raise your buttocks from that throne so soon. I want to see you savor at small sips from the bitter cup of your umpteenth fiasco.

The opponent stood up again. He was hunched forward and was holding his head up with the right hand. His lips were open and curled into a spasmodic grimace. Racitro put the sword behind his own back and held it with the left hand only. He shattered a hook on the rival's undefended left cheek. The jaw and a couple of teeth cracked. Racitro's knuckle burned up. Racitro shook his hand to soothe that hot flush. The rival tilted on the right side, but stood up. The rival raised his chin again. A stream of blood trickled down his shattered cheekbone. Racitro hit with a hook on that same cheekbone. The cheek fleshes crushed to a pulp under Racitro's knuckle. Two teeth flew out of the rival's mouth. The man stood on his feet with saggy arms and swaying knees, ready to collapse. Racitro landed an uppercut on the rival's chin. The rival's eyes rolled upward. The man crashed to the ground and there stayed motionless with his long black hair sank in a bath of cold, damp mud.

"Ladies and gentlemen here gathered", the herald said. "Here is your winner. Still Champion after eight, five and thirteen. Prince Racitro."

Racitro gazed at the rhythmical swelling of his defeated rival's chest. Racitro's right arm started tingling and he felt the deep breathlessness of the fight, as the tension vanished during the hostilities had increased all of a sudden.

It's been far too easy.

He glanced at the royal dais, where Espio was still sitting comfortable on the throne. The evening breeze blowing between them in that moment made Racitro shiver and didn't give him any relief.

The people asked Racitro to give hand and gold coin back to the King. Racitro eyed the sword in his left hand. The blade radiated, unsatisfied not to have got blood. Racitro raised his head and evaluated the distance between the battle field and the royal dais. He took aim. He halted. Espio wasn't showing either anger for the umpteenth fiasco, or indignation for the slap the people was demanding.

He's contrived a plan. There's something I don't get.

Racitro glanced at Veneramanda, sat beside Espio. He felt her eyes imploring him to lay down the sword.

Racitro looked around. Spikey arrowheads escaped the wall of darkness permeating the bleachers. At least eight archers of the royal guard had already nocked their arrows in their bows.

He couldn't have planned it. He couldn't have predicted I would have tried to pierce him with my opponent's sword at the end of the duel.

The tingling of his right arm increased; his fingers benumbed. The sword fell in the mud.

If that's a part of your plan, then, I won't give you the satisfaction to implement it myself.

He turned his back to Espio and walked towards the portcullis. He came in the tunnel not caring about the tradition which imposed that nobody could leave the Arena before the King without his approval.

Once inside the tunnel, he turned around to glance once again at the royal dais, but couldn't discern Espio's and Veneramanda's faces. Veneramanda must be proud I didn't do it.

The wrought iron portcullis fell all of a sudden, as if the chains were cut off. Racitro rushed towards the other end of the tunnel. He found the opposite portcullis lifted. The locker room was pervaded by an unexpected darkness, barely lightened by the glares of a lonely candle. Racitro bumped his shoulder against a wooden post shoring up the portcullis. The locker room door slammed on the jamb. The sliding lock clanked.

Someone's locked me in. Why?

His heart throbbed. All-changing shadows danced on the opposite wall. Racitro stood with the back against the limestone bricks wall. He stretched his head over the tunnel edge and peeped into the locker room with the left eye. A male adult lion glanced back at him; it looked circumspect and, knowing Espio, very hungry. Racitro swallowed the lump in his throat and withdrew his head.

The tamers. Why didn't I think of that?

Paying attention not to make noise, Racitro drew two steps back in the tunnel. The lion shadow got smaller and more marked near the tunnel end.

Espio's manipulated me. What I've just fought was the battle for the audience. But, from the very beginning, he wanted to commit his crime privately, locking me in this iron and bricks cage with a lion. That's why he stripped me off the armor, so that I couldn't rely on any protection against the lion jaws.

He ran his hand on his face and dried the sweat. He smelled the blood of the man he had just defeated on his hand, and which, certainly, the lion had already sniffed.

The lion entered the tunnel. Its silhouette filled a good half of the tunnel breadth. Racitro gazed at the spikes hanging down over the beast neck.

They were my last chance to make it out alive. Why didn't I tie my belt to the post?

The lion got closer.

For Eristoph's sake. The sword. Why did I throw it on the ground? I did it because Espio...No, he couldn't have predicted even this.

Racitro moved back and raised his fists before his chest. A tremor ran through his body, making his arms and fists shake.

Veneramanda warned me. Why didn't I listen to her?

The lion got two steps closer. Racitro drew back. The lion ran its tongue on its lips. Racitro hit his back against the portcullis.

This is the end. Veneramanda. Clelia...

The lion got even closer. He halted a dozen Steps away from Racitro. It bent its head and advanced. It uttered a weak roar. It charged on the hind limbs. Racitro grinded his teeth and put his sweat-soaked fists before his face. His heart throbbed. He held his breath. The beast pricked its ears up. Racitro bent his head and raised his fists.

The lion turned its head towards the opposite tunnel end. With a cramp in the right thigh, Racitro stared at the beast and waited motionless. The beast roared and swerved towards the wall. It was lame in the right hind limb. A dangling stick, stuck in the beast thigh, casted a trembling shadow on the ground. The lion roared. It trotted on three legs towards the tunnel entry. An arrow hissed in the air. The arrow lacerated the beast fleshes. Wild roars rumbled in that stone trap. The lion hobbled towards the entry portcullis with the left side lying against the wall and with a second arrow sticking out of its left shoulder.

It has not been hit in any vital organ. If it staggers that way, it means that those arrows are poisoned.

The lion advanced like a dying elder, its steps deprived of the original threat. Another arrow bent its neck. It uttered a guttural roar. Finally, he collapsed on its forelimbs.

Racitro waited a few moments. He dared move a first step towards the lion, but a cramp nearly made him crash to the ground. He banged his fists on his thighs and walked till he was two steps away from the lion. The beast was lying motionless with the muzzle resting on the forelegs. Racitro tried to meet its eyes, but its eyelids were shut. He looked at its prominent whiskers which remained motionless, inanimate. Disgusting stenches rose from the carcass. Racitro sprinted and outdistanced the beast. He didn't look back over his shoulder till he was inside the locker room.

Racitro got his breath back. He raised his head and looked over each corner of the locker room. He saw a man, whose head was sticking out of the door.

"Casl?"

"Majesty", Casl bowed before him. "I'm here to rescue you. There's no time for explanations. Your brother has conceived the best plan his twisted mind could spring to put an end to your claim to the throne."

"But how did you know it? Who sent you?"

"It's not safe to name names as long as we're inside the castle. Follow me. I'll lead you to a safer place away from the Sapphire Palace. We don't have much time. I bet your brother is coming down the stairs, with that walking stick you reduced him to support to, to pretend grief for your death."

Casl went out. Racitro followed him.

Casl entered a staircase leading to the Sapphire Palace.

Did you rescue me from the lion jaws only to make me fall straight into Espio's ones? "Hang on. This staircase leads to the Sapphire Palace. You wouldn't happen to be a part of Espio's more and more absurd and intricate plan, would you?"

Casl halted and didn't turn around. He let out a sigh and bent his head. He laid his hand on the sword. Racitro drew back and raised his fists.

Casl turned around and burst out laughing. "Your brother has made you paranoiac to such an extent, Majesty? Good to hear that", he raised his fist. At the top of the staircase, bathed in the darkness, someone moved. "The reason why we're going to the Sapphire Palace is that your brother, far more paranoiac than you, gave the guards order to surround the Arena and the royal palace in case you had the better of the lion."

Two stunned guards, bound hand and foot, rolled down from the top of the staircase. Casl and Racitro moved back. "These two were guarding this staircase."

Casl started climbing the staircase. Racitro followed him till the servants' laundry room where there was the trap door to the secret passage, Veneramanda and Racitro used for their secret meetings. Casl opened and raised the trap door.

"Majesty. After you."

"And what will become of Veneramanda? And Clelia?"

"They'll be fine. Your brother is not so foolish to kill his best ally's daughter and granddaughter."

Racitro gazed at the room, the last he would see inside the Sapphire Palace. Until then, he never noticed either how exquisite the furniture inside the laundry room was, or how nice the embroideries of the linen curtains on the only window were. The Cilantes' Lion appeared against the moonlight. Racitro's eyes started watering, perhaps due to the stench stinking out the air, or, perhaps, because he was overcome with emotions. He gazed at the dirty fishmonger rags Veneramanda had used for their affairs. He leaned forward and caressed them, permeating his fingers with Veneramanda's salty and floral fragrance.

I only hope this is not the last time I see this palace. And, most of all, that my fleeting meeting with Veneramanda isn't our final parting.

He eyed the darkness beyond the trap door, the freedom, the end of the only life he'd ever known. In that hole he saw nothing more than a frightful unknown, even though full of opportunities.

Veneramanda was right. There's nothing here for me now. Someday, I'll be back, through this trap door or through the portcullis on the Road of Salt. And that day, I'll win back everything.

### Chapter 16 - Espio

The thunderous roar of an explosion in the distance made the Sapphire Palace royal apartments windows rattle. Clelia, who had become an inexhaustible source of tears, started grizzling. Espio stood up from the couch in order to save his eardrums from her uncontrollable and merciless cries.

He came before the window and searched for the explosion origin point. Veneramanda cuddled the baby and relieved her anxieties.

I'm as worry as you, little princess. Our family is in peril and so is our Kingdom.

Espio tried to peek beyond his own reflected face on the window, beyond the dark circles under his eyes. Some vivid glares flickered among the western buildings. A broad plume of smoke rose in the dark sky and purloined the stars along its way.

Someone lighted a candle beyond the Sartica's bedroom curtain. Someone shouted an order Espio didn't understand. On the lonely Sapphire Palace tower, a sentry swung a torch. The guards got out of their cots and went into the stables and the armory. Then, they poured out in the courtyard and divided in squads.

"Each night it's always the same story", Veneramanda said. "When will you make our nights less unquiet?"

Espio stared at his own frowned forehead.

I've already so many knots in my hair I need to untangle that I don't have any intention to deal with your reproach.

Clelia started grizzling again, probably looking for some attentions. Espio placed his right hand to his nape and arched his back, trying to relieve the muscle tensions which had piled up over the last five sleepless nights.

The window rattled cause of a new and closer explosion. Espio drew two steps back. Clelia cried. Espio plugged his ears. Veneramanda held the baby tighter. Clelia nestled her little head on her mother's shoulder and placated for no more than ten seconds.

Espio contemplated Veneramanda's relaxed features, the complete absence of dark circles under her eyes and her blooming and undisfigured beauty.

When explosions stop, she'll sleep. I won't be as lucky as her. I'll have to wake up at the dawn, if I ever fall asleep.

Espio yawned. "I'm going to bed."

He headed for his own room, hopeful he would find some peace, away from Clelia's cries rather than from explosions.

With a candelabrum in his hand, Espio passed through the study. He stopped before the town maps he and his advisors had left deployed on the ash wooden table since four days and as many nights. Celete, Merete, Silvaco and he had worn them out, filling them with wrinkles and dog ears by persisting in scribbling the time and the place of each disorder.

There must be a scheme. Even a mentally disabled like Racitro, in his ignorance, must make use of some kind of predictable scheme, even though unconsciously.

But, observing all the notes Celete and he had scribbled around the castle and those Silvaco and Merete had scribbled with their unreadable handwritings in the suburbs, Espio didn't see more than a set of points placed as randomly as the stars hanged on the sky.

Thirty-two of my loyal guards have already been killed in just five nights. Not to mention those hundred and seventy-four greenhorns torn from the cradle Racitro armed with just a sword and a purpose.

Espio shook his head. I only hope that Eristoph won't allow this dispute either to rekindle Torekron's ambitions or to trigger Patrika's ones. Otherwise, this reckless civil war will make us both losers, Racitro.

After coming in his bedroom, Espio laid down on that empty bed Veneramanda has not been sharing with him since the uproars started.

Clelia cried at the top of her voice. Espio warped the pillow around his nape and plugged his ears. He rolled over under the blankets and went as far away as possible from the door. Clelia cried again.

Given the timing the baby grizzles with, I'm almost led to think Veneramanda is instigating her.

Espio's left foot slid on the slimy filth the stone steps of the twisting staircase, leading to the dungeons, were covered with. Graunio's strong arms held him by the armpits. Nonetheless, the walking stick fell for four steps and stopped against Silvaco's legs. Espio withdrew his left hand from those disgusting lichens and moss-grown bricks he was holding to. He held his hand raised in mid-air until a servant came before him and started rubbing his fingers one-by-one with a soft cloth.

Silvaco handed Espio the walking stick. Espio climbed down one step at a time till he reached the dungeon door. A fetid stench thick of the prisoner's excrement miasmas made his eyes water. The servant handed him a second handkerchief. Espio put it to his nose to avoid those stenches to stink out his senses.

The iron bars of the first cell rattled in the runners. Silvaco came in the cell and dragged out a thirtyish small man with a messy beard, greasy hair and a sickening dark substance under the nails. Silvaco dared tug the man by the shirt collar, probably the only clean spot of his clothes. The man was leaded two Steps before Espio. The man crawled towards Espio's boots, his eyes staring at the filthy floor, and stretched a dirty paw towards Espio's right ankle. Espio drew one step back. Silvaco treaded his boot heel on that dirty hand and cracked some bones. The man roared and shut his eyes. Silvaco took his whip and Graunio stripped the man of the cloth shirt he was wearing. The man's back was marked by reddish furrows running parallel from the left buttock to the right scapula.

"Majesty...my name is Roe-"

"Knowing your name doesn't spark my interest", Espio said. "Traitor is the most suitable epithet for you. And that's the only thing you share with my brother. Tell me about him or refrain from stinking out the air with your nauseating breath."

The man grunted. The whip cracked on the man's back and rumbled all over those narrow walls. The other jailed traitors rose aversion choruses.

"I was wrong", the man said. "Majesty is not the most suitable epi...um...title for you. There's only one King I'll bow before on my own initiative. And it's your brother. He's a man of great virtues. He speaks the common language of the peasants, you speak a language nobody can understand. He knows our conditions. The war has changed him. Now he is generous and unselfish. Unlike you."

The man seized Espio's right ankle. "You already have one foot in the grave, Majesty."

He started laughing. He laughed and didn't stop despite Silvaco's whips. Graunio cracked him two fingers with a kick. The man let go Espio's ankle, but didn't stop laughing.

"Lock him up, Silvaco", Espio said. "But before nightfall, you'll come back and rip out one-by-one all his beard hair. Then, you'll tell me how many hairs you needed to rip him out before making him stop laughing."

Graunio rattled a night stick against the iron bars. He dragged out of a cell a mother who gave birth to five children. The woman crawled on the ground. Graunio kicked her in the guts. The woman rolled over and laid on her back.

"I've not a beard", the woman said.

Is that a challenge?

"Nonetheless, I'd be willing to swear you are hairy between the legs."

"You're a rat", the woman said. "There's no way you and your brother sprouted up from the same seed. You're not brothers. Your heart is rottener than the corpses stinking out the air in these jails where you're torturing us. Look at you. You're nothing more than an elder who needs a stick to walk and who grows weak behind this cold castle walls."

Silvaco whipped her.

"Your words are opprobrious", Espio said. "But I'll condone your offences if you tell me which kind of promise my brother has made you. I really don't get why you are so willingly fighting for his ideal of overthrowing me. He's my brother, after all. And I don't need your wise advice to realize how divergent our moral principles are. But he's been enjoying my same comforts for the whole of his life. What do you think he knows about the so miserable condition you want me to believe to?"

The woman expectorated her repugnant gelatinous phlegm on Espio's boots. "Tyrant. Our condition is not a lie. The reason why you need a stick to walk is that sitting for too long on velvety cushions has made your legs weak", Espio clenched his fingers around the walking stick and gazed at her crooked teeth, eager to break them. "The last winter famine which killed my two years old baby is your fault. We know you gave the leftovers to the lions rather than lavishing them to us poor starved people forced to beg for food in order to pay your exorbitant duties. The people will only benefit from His Majesty Racitro's ascent to the throne. There'll be more food on our tables and less Ducats in the nobles' silky trousers pockets."

Do you mean I can put an end to this uproar by just supplying the grass roots with a wagon full of bread?

"Twelve whips", Espio said. "Six on the back. The others between her legs."

I'm eager to see which will make you cry the most.

Espio limped from his study door to his seat cause of a spasm in the left calf.

Silvaco was waiting upright, drumming his fingers on the chair back. The King guards captain toppled the chair on his feet. He avoided the chair to crash to the ground and took his seat.

"Majesty. I have very important news."

Your eager excitement, though irreverent, is always a glad tidings bearer.

"For the first time ever, last night, one of our guards saw the traitor in action."

Espio raised an eyebrow. "That was reckless of him. What's the reason why he personally took part in an action, in your opinion?"

Merete answered in Silvaco's place. "I guess you brother-"

"Do not refer to him that way, please", Espio said.

"Forgive me", Merete bowed his head. "As I was saying...I guess Racitro wanted to prove to the commoners he's a man of his word. What a pity you didn't hear him stirring the crowd up, Majesty. He's promising bread and equality."

I would get tangible gratification if I asked Racitro how he thinks he could exercise his authority over the commoners, once crowned, now that he's showing off in the same undermost conditions befitting the boors supporting him.

Espio had a blackout for a few moments. He laid his head on the right hand and leaned his elbow on the table. "Are you really sure the guard didn't mistake him for someone else?"

"I got more than one confirmation about it", Silvaco said. "The traitor's strong constitution has not many parallels. And, I'm sorry to say this, but according to one of my guards, who had been a great fan of the traitor before he changed sides, that man's fighting style was unmistakable."

"But if your guards got so close they could identify him, can you explain me why Racitro is not rotting in the Sapphire Palace dungeons this morning?" Espio said.

Silvaco made his chair scrape on the floor and raised his hands as he wanted to justify himself. "The traitor's squad, even though less practiced, was much more numerous and overwhelmed my guards."

Silvaco sketched a cross on the map to take note of the sighting. He scribbled some numbers and some smeared letters. "As you can see, Majesty, each of the subversive tumults differs in the number of rebels involved. I think it'd be useful to take into account where the traitor commits the greatest part of his forces in our analysis."

Such a witty observation from you? I'm surprised, Silvaco.

Espio stared at one of the two maps deployed on the table and examined each note.

"Look", Espio tapped his forefinger on twelve crosses. "In all of these sorties we lost, at least, two or more soldiers loyal to the crown. In all the other tumults there were no casualties in our ranks, or utmost one. It's clear that these twelve points are crucial for the implementation of Racitro's strategy."

"Racitro is surely targeting some valuable and strategic places", Celete said. "Don't forget that the explosions are causing huge damages to the streets, the squares and the buildings. As we discuss this matter, our soldiers are all busy repairing the wrecked streets covered with charred wood piles."

Espio laid his eyes on the map and followed the flow of his own thoughts. He dipped the quill feather in the inkwell and sketched some lines on the map. He darkened a couple of streets, crossed off three streets, then, darkened other two streets; all in a sudden, those lines flashed before his eyes with more light than the Sun shining that morning.

"Racitro is building a labyrinth."

Merete and even the ever meek Celete goggled and bent their heads over the map.

"I admit that the walls have not been completed yet, for the sake of our fate. But, by keeping this pace..." Espio sketched new and hypothetical lines on the map. "Within a lunarhalf our soldiers won't be able anymore to pass through a large number of streets and squares."

"But, why is he building a labyrinth by taking advantage of the town structure?" Silvaco said.

"A labyrinth has an only way from the entry to the exit and the more the branches and the blind-alleys, the more the complexity. And there won't be better place to ambush our soldiers than some blind-alleys."

Silvaco leaped up. His chair crashed to the ground.

"For Eristoph's sake", Silvaco covered his mouth with the right hand. "Please, forgive my foulmouthed tongue, Majesty. But the traitor's plan could turn out to be so ruinous for us. Nonetheless, I can only applaud your smartness. Allow me to make use of the notes you've just reported on the map to elaborate a new strategy. My guards will spare no effort to stop the traitor from carrying out his crazy plan."

Espio handed the scribbled map to Silvaco. The guard seized it and rushed out of the study without taking leave of his King.

Merete stood up. His stomach said goodbye in his stead.

"I'd like to have your attention, Merete", Espio said.

Celete didn't move, as he had just died on that chair.

"Both of you have watched Racitro grow", Espio said. "He is no genius when it comes to cudgel his brains. Do you really think he could have conceived such a thorough plan by himself?"

"Majesty, it's not a secret that some high ranking officers have forsworn your cause to take up Racitro's one", Merete said. "Certainly, Racitro has taken advantage of the smartest strategists' experience."

"That's not what I meant", Espio ran his forefinger on the crosses in chronological order. "Looking at the notes reported in the non-crucial points one can note a marked decrease in the number of both killed and arrested rioters. These secondary assaults show an uncommon ability in countermoveing our strategies and our forces deployment. And there can be only one explanation."

"Racitro has infiltrated a mole in the castle, or, perhaps, more than one", Celete said.

"Interesting..." Merete said. "And, surely, it's someone we'd never suspect of."

"Racitro has run away with that gang of warriors he daily practiced with in the Arena." His true brothers, actually. "He's taken the lions with him to attack us, but, at the same time, he's left the most venomous snakes in the castle to poison us. He knows the castle will never fall without treason from within. And you don't need to have an eagle eye to see how many sympathizers Racitro has inside these walls", Espio banged his fist on the table. "Can you believe it? The courtiers under my protection, who enjoy the abundance of my table, are conspiring to kill me."

"Do you think you can flush out these moles?" Celete said.

"We have to use caution. We can't run the risk of antagonizing the entire court or the acrimony towards me will spread and grow. I suggest we keep a watchful eye on the Queen's closest friends."

"Don't you mean you suspect that your beloved and pretty spouse is involved in the conspiracy?" Merete said.

Did she give herself to you, too?

"No. I don't think the Queen is conspiring against me", Espio said. "She won't get any advantage in return. However, even if with great discretion, I use to share some crucial information with her and I fear that, between a wine sip and a pastry, she could let slip some of them, due to her unlimited innocence. If so, our enemies won't surely exempt to turn the tables on us", Espio retraced the castle walls on the map. "It is necessary to restrict the information exchange between the castle and the suburbs. I suggest we take possession of all the resident families' carrier pigeons."

"But this decision will draw their attention and arouse malevolence, Majesty", Celete said.

"That's why we'll spread rumors about a disease carried by the pigeons wings. And, since the only way to send messages out of the walls will be through the portcullis, the courtiers will be forced to deliver their messages to our guards, so that we could take note of them. Obviously, we'll need to control the caravans which daily brings the foodstuffs to the castle. We'll also impose a meticulous control to the caravan guides into and out of the castle."

"You won't force them to pour out all the wine barrels just to be in the favor of Eristoph, will you?" Merete said.

"No. As I said, Racitro doesn't need to infiltrate anyone inside the walls. The daggers, and the hands to brandish them, are already inside."

"As commanded, Majesty", Celete said. "Do you have any other issue you want us to consider?"

"Nothing more than a quick assignment", Espio tapped the quill feather point on the circle he had traced on the castle walls. "I know Silvaco and you have already arranged a defensive plan in case of a direct attack to the castle. Nonetheless, I'd like to take a look at all the papers personally. I want to know where each single brick was placed when this castle was built. Flick through every document, no matter if it is so ancient that it will crumble in your hands. If the walls have some weak points, or if there are some secret passages we don't know about, we must discover where they are."

Veneramanda came in Espio's study with a spring in her step. The golden draperies on her dress shone in the western sunlight and diverted, for a fleeting moment, Espio's attention from the ancient papers. Veneramanda leaned forward beside him and seized his left hand between her silky hands.

"My King", she caressed his hand and stared at him with her big worried eyes. "You've been bustling about way too much over the last days. You need to take your mind off these issues and get some delight. The Rigardos has asked us over. A dinner in your honor will be held this very evening."

Espio caressed her hair. "And, judging by your conciliatory tone, I suspect you have already positively answered."

"Doesn't this suit you? You're our King. The Rigardos won't hold malevolence towards you if you tell them about your concerns and anxieties on leaving the Sapphire Palace in the middle of a civil war."

"I see how you care about it, my darling", he caressed her rosy cheek with the knuckle. "And I don't want to displease you."

"I've just noticed how worried you are, and I know that the only thing you need is some peace of mind", she gave him a hot caress. "You told me about potential conspirators living inside the castle. And I think that withdrawing in yourself, bent over these dusty papers, won't help you in flushing them out. Nonetheless, not taking care of our closer friends' kind and cordial offers won't re-establish the serenity spoiled by the restrictions you imposed them."

So, none of my subjects has believed the story of the carrier pigeon disease. Or, given their proven slowness, it's more probable you told them the truth.

"I've restricted the message exchange between castle and town for your own good and for Clelia's one. And, if even a small glimmer of intelligence had sparkled in my subjects, they would have understood, without complaining, that this measure is devoted to their own protection and prosperity."

She shook her head. "You know, I wrote a letter to my father this morning to soothe his anxieties about the tumults threatening us and I got bothered when I had to give my so intimate and precious missive to your guards. Now the missive will reach my father by means of the slow fish merchants' caravans. Such a long wait will only exacerbate my father's fervent anxieties about my safety. And, perhaps, before the missive reaches him, he'll have already deployed his own army along the Road of Wine."

"You might have drawn your missive to my attention, darling. I sent a carrier pigeon to Rigas Mausir this morning. I warmly dissuaded your father from heading for the capital. I had received similar offers from Gynturin and Rujo's vassals, but I suggested them to avoid that the tumults could spread to their territories. We can't afford to leave our peripheral territories undefended or Endhora and Mellrose will surely invade us."

"I'll bear that in mind", Veneramanda said.

I think you meant you'll tell it to Racitro.

"So, what about the dinner offer? Are you going to come?"

"Of course, my darling. The Rigardos have been respectable and loyal friends of the crown for good fourteen profitable generations. And it's my intention to keep my trustiest allies as close as possible", he smiled at her. "I'm sure it will be a delighting evening."

A weak gust of wind blew Veneramanda's braids over her shoulders and raised the dust lying on the courtyard ground. Accompanied by his wife and a maniple of guards, Espio arrived in front of the Rigardos' residence.

Sauco, the master of the house, was waiting on the doorstep. He apposed a handkerchief to his forehead and wiped away the sweat trickling towards his eyebrows. Espio stretched his right hand. Sauco held it among his vigorous fingers and nodded a good three times to perform a simple bow.

I seem to recall that you've never been that cordial. And this uncontrolled sweating...It makes me wonder if you're the same Sauco Rigardo I grew up with.

His gorgeous wife Sasia came out of the door. She was wearing a bright colors dress embellished with a ribbon on the neckline. The ever convivial Veneramanda had only compliments for her. Absorbed in looking at the ribbon, Espio almost didn't notice the small four years old Rigardo's scion. Only his small head, full of black curly hair, was emerging from behind his mother's skirt.

These Rigardos are immoderate boot-lickers and, generation after generation, they keep on naming their scion after the King Cilantes reigning at the time of the baby's birth. Nonetheless, it'd be better to become friends with my little namesake.

"Hi, little Racitro", Veneramanda said.

Espio raised an eyebrow. The dinner is poisoned.

Sauco and Sasia leaded Espio and Veneramanda through the main aisle of their house. The walls were embellished with valuable paintings portraying the family's forefathers. Then, Espio went through two sides of eyes, all peeping with excessive attention at his enfeebled steps.

The Rigardo are as prolific as rodents; and it seems that this is not the only quality they share with the rodents.

The master of the house pulled out the chair at the head of the table. Espio leaned his walking stick against a long table decked with floral adornments. He counted twenty-two chairs.

Just a few minutes later, all Sauco's brothers and cousins, wives and children included, sat at the table. Sauco sat at the opposite head of the table. Sasia sat on Sauco's left and little Racitro on his right. Unlike the other children, Racitro kept quiet on his seat, hands hidden under the table, head bowed over the appetizers plate.

Sauco clinked a spoon twice against a crystal glass. "Majesty. As forefather of a family who have been loyal to the royal House for good fourteen generations, allow me to say you how honored we are to host you in our house and to renew once again this long, and hopefully, sempiternal friendship."

"I'm glad to be here. This is the first time I leave the Sapphire Palace since this civil war afflicted my Kingdom."

"I pray Eristoph every night hoping that you, Majesty, will put an end to your brother's unjustified claims", Sasia said.

"Your brother's infidelity has left me with a lot of torment", Sauco put his right hand to his forehead. "When I think I supported his feats in the Arena, I see how little shrewd I've been over the last years."

"I'm glad to know that Racitro's nonsenses have not gained followers in this mansion", Espio said.

"And they never will", Facmagusto, one of Sauco's uncles, said. "Our family has made his own luck thanks to its loyalty to the rightful King."

Espio stifled a yawn. They're just trying to ply me with vacuous flatteries. It's clear they want to make me lower my guard.

The servants brought to the table bottles of wine, apples, creamy goat cheese and cumin bread.

"Don't stuff yourself with these appetizers, Majesty", Sauco said. "My cooks have been busy two days and two nights to make you enjoy a culinary experience of fourteen courses."

Espio turned up his nose. As he realized he had done it, he bent his head. He peeped out of the corner of his eye at the young Chiote, his personal taster.

Fourteen courses. It won't be easy to discover which of them is the poisoned one. I hope they won't force me to sacrifice my poor taster's life.

The first course was quail eggs in a thick mustard sauce. And, according to tradition, the King's plate was laden with three eggs.

That's smart of them. If Chiote tastes a single egg and survive, there won't be any guarantee the other two eggs are not poisoned.

Espio took the knife and rolled the eggs on the plate. He sliced all of them in the middle, but he could only ascertain that the egg yolks were not green.

Despite the children's greed, all the guests were waiting for Espio to taste first, in conformity with an ancient and almost forgotten tradition.

Espio stared at Sauco's forehead.

Hmm...He's not sweating.

He put half egg on the spoon and put it to his mouth. The spiciness of the sauce spread on his palate and left a delightful aftertaste in his mouth. He ate just one egg; then, he shared what was left on his plate with Eristoph.

"You should eat more, my beloved", Veneramanda said. "Otherwise your ailments will grow worse."

That's exactly what my mother used to tell me.

Even Sauco expressed his opinion. "I was hoping they were to your liking, Majesty. I'll report your remonstrance to the cook."

What's the matter? Did you choose a poison which is not lethal if not ingested in great amount? "Oh, no. They were so exquisite I felt bound to give them to Eristoph in order to get His benevolence in this war."

The second course was a western sea fish soup Veneramanda swallowed with greed.

Course after course, Espio kept a watchful eye on Sauco's forehead, looking for any trace of sweat. Espio decided to eat entirely a pork roll stuffed with goat cheese and spinaches.

Veneramanda caressed Espio's left hand. "You look tense."

"Well, the sun has just set. Shortly, the clinking of the silverware will be overwhelmed by the rumble of the explosions. And if his people suffer, a King suffers."

"That's a lofty thought", Sasia said.

A young girl served roasted pork baked in a sesame crust, garnished with an apple sauce and boiled leeks. As she put the plate on the table, she had a weak spasm in the wrist. She withdrew her hands with caution and glanced at Espio with her shy nut-brown eyes for no more than a blink of an eye. The girl smiled in manifest embarrassment. Then, she served Veneramanda.

Espio gazed at the commensals. Only the corpulent child on the left looked back at Espio as he wanted to exhort his King to slice the meat.

Espio looked at Sauco. Something was gleaming on the bottle of wine lying on Sauco's right. It took him some seconds, but Espio discovered what it was. Sauco was trembling, knife in his hand.

To be honest, how can these Rigardos be this crazy? They are trying to poison me in their mansion. Everyone will know they did it. Someone must have reassured them about the perpetuation of their House.

Veneramanda patted on Espio's left hand. "It gets cold."

The Rigardos have cooked my last dinner, but it was you who set the table.

Espio glanced at Chiote. The man laid his trembling hands on the chair arms, ready to stand up. Espio shook his head. Chiote sighed and leaned his back against the comfortable seat back.

It's time to juice up this sad evening.

Espio clinked the spoon against the crystal glass half-filled with mulled wine. "My dear friend Sauco Rigardo. Allow me to propose a toast in your honor. You've organized a wonderful evening. All of you have given me so much joy. And, in order to perpetuate our sempiternal friendship towards the fifteenth generation, I'd like little Racitro Rigardo to come over here and get his King's blessing."

The commensals looked at each other in alarm. Veneramanda leaned forward. "What are you doing?"

Espio didn't return her more than a glance. Little Racitro couldn't refuse his King's request, but looked reluctant. His mother Sasia exhorted him to stand up. Racitro walked along the table in a silence full of tension. The shy Racitro halted one Step away from the table, between Espio and Veneramanda. Espio stretched his arms and seized him by the armpits. Then, he lifted him on his thighs.

"Your leg", Veneramanda said.

"It's almost numb, don't worry", Espio said. He devoted all his attentions to little Racitro. "Don't be shy, Racitro", he caressed Racitro's curls. "The relationships between our families have always been confidential. You know, for me your father is not just a subject. He's a true and dear friend", Espio chucked Racitro under the chin. "And what about you, Racitro? Do you want to be my friend?"

"Yes."

"But, tell me, has your father ever told you which kind of great privileges you'll have as a friend of your King?"

Racitro shook his head.

"Then, I'll prove you my benevolence and we'll celebrate together the fourteen generations of undeniable loyalty your House has showed to my family. I'll give you a taste of my generosity", Espio sliced a piece of roasted pork, put it on the spoon and dipped it in the apple sauce.

"Here you go, Racitro. Have a personal taste of your King's generosity."

The child nodded.

He's completely oblivious. Ah, what a pleasing bliss.

"Then, eat it in one bite."

Sauco wiped away the sweat trickling on his forehead with a handkerchief. His wife gave him a withering look. Racitro took the spoon from Espio's hand and put it to his own lips. His mother's chair crashed to the ground.

"Racitro. No. Don't do it."

In a heartbeat, Sasia reached an awestruck Racitro and snatched the spoon out of his hand. The spoon clinked on the plate. Sauco started coughing and his face blushed like a ruby. The apprehensive Sasia took her child away of Espio's hug. Sauco shit his trousers.

Worthy gentlemen and noblewomen, accompanied by their own yawns, crowded the Arena bleachers. The darkness of the night and the clamor of the tumults taking place outside the castle walls made the Arena look less empty.

It's gonna be a show for the nearest and dearest, but there'll be no lack of opportunity to delight ourselves.

The Rigardos, the main guests, were not on the comfortable seats on the bleachers; but rather, they were given the honor to have more legroom, standing in the middle of the battle field. Espio looked at those small agitated ants running among the radiant bonfires and the all-changing shadows. Racitro and the other small children's arms were all wrapped around their mother's skirts. The mothers were still wearing those elegant and sumptuous dresses they were wearing during dinner. A silly boy seemed to realize what was about to occur and tried to climb the walls, unaware they had been built without any kind of handhold to prevent the fighters from escaping.

Espio left his seat on the royal dais and walked towards the herald horn.

"My dear guests, Rigardos and their servants."

Espio turned towards the royal dais. "My dear friends. Tonight, as the previous lunarquarters, my dear brother, Racitro Cilantes, Champion of the Arena, should have defended his title against a new challenger. But, unfortunately, he won't take part in tonight's combat. Nonetheless, it's not my intention to fall short of your expectations. So, tonight, we'll have a combat. Please, extend a warm welcome to the challengers: the entire Rigardo family with their servants."

A funereal silence followed Espio's exhortation.

"I know. I know. You're wondering who is going to fight in the Champion's stead, aren't you? You certainly know that, as King of the animals, the Lion is the emblem of the House of Cilantes. And, since my brother was often named after this epithet, I'm introducing you the Cilantes' Champions."

A pride of lions, seven male and eight female, crossed the gates. They were all adults, all musclebound and with saliva dripping out of their jaws. Women and children screamed as they pattered their boots in the mud. Black shapes spread out, searching for a shelter. The portcullis rattled behind the lions.

Let this night be a warning to all my courtiers who are conspiring against me in order to get Racitro's benevolence.

"My friends. No matter how unpleasant this combat will be, your King demands you to spend on your seats the entire night. You'll be allowed to stand up and get back to your comfortable beds only and solely when the last treacherous blood drop will be spilt and give back to Eristoph."

Children and courtiers with sensitive stomach covered their eyes.

It doesn't matter if they don't see. They have four other senses. They will fully enjoy the dilacerated traitor's screams; the powerful jaws chewing as they sank in the fleshes; the bones crackling; the thin fragrance of blood the air will be soon thick with.

Espio left the herald horn and headed for the exit. He stopped just to witness two lionesses assaulting the imprudent climber.

An indignant Veneramanda reached Espio. "I won't be obliged to witness these killings, I hope?"

"Of course you won't, my Queen", Espio seized her hands. "Those stinking traitors attempted to my life as well as yours. Your joyful blue eyes don't deserve to be molested that way."

For you, my darling, I have something much better in store.

### Chapter 17 - Racitro

Racitro came out through a trap door in the back of a carpenter's shop. Crouched down, he looked around as circumspect as a rat gone out at night to eat the dinner crumbs. He touched the ground with his hand. Something pricked his palm. He looked at his hand and pulled a wood splinter out of his forefinger. He walked squatted. At each step the wood shavings under his boots crackled. He breathed deeper and deeper in that air thick of wooded dust.

He reached a great table with saws and hammers. He looked beyond the border of the table and out of the window. The road before the carpenter's shop was bathed in a desolate darkness.

Not even the most boorish drunkard dared transgress Espio's curfew. Better this way. Tonight's tumults will perforate Espio's eardrums.

Racitro approached the window. Some stars wandered over the skyline. Racitro ducked and found shelter under the windowsill. The cracking of the gravel under the feet of seven, perhaps eight, soldiers and the squeaking of their armors broke the silence. Racitro kept his breathing under control, to the point that the only things he could hear were his heartbeats. He gazed at his trustworthy subordinates packed against the walls and made sure they didn't do something stupid. A soldier halted not far from the carpenter's shop. The light emitted by the lamp he was taking with him grew in intensity like a star come down to kiss Eristoph. Racitro made himself as small as possible under the windowsill.

A voice from afar. That shooting star hurried away over a racket of cracking stones. Racitro got his breath back and peeked at his disciples' barely discernable face features in the semidarkness produced by the few lamps hanged along the road. He looked for their eyes. The veteran's ones flashed with pure determination; the greenhorn's ones with the fear to be executed on that very road.

Racitro reached the door and nodded. Garina snuck off till she was before the door. Her hair shone in the moonlight. She let them down and inserted the hairpin in the keyhole. The steel didn't utter a single cry till the inevitable lock spring. Garina opened the door to the point that only a little finger could have passed through it.

The lonely cawing of a carrion crow echoed in the deserted road.

We're the first.

Racitro seized the door and opened it wider. The door hinges hiccupped some creaks. Once in the street, Racitro sheltered away from prying eyes under a dive porch the soldiers had cleared at the dusk. Down the road leading to the square, a lonely candle was shining beyond the curtains of a rustic house.

Someone on the payroll of Espio? No, if he had spies in the citizenry, he would be careful not to attract attention. Wait...Maybe he expects me to think this.

All squatted, Racitro's fellows followed their leader. The most skilled ones seemed comfortable in that awkward position; the others were on the verge of crashing on their buttocks at each step or to give off stinky and noisy miasmas.

They snuck off under the enlightened window like a long snake. Twenty Steps before the iron bank square, Racitro entered an alley beside Tamica's house. The squad commanded by Ebora, a paddy field worker, entered in the courtyard behind the house. Two minutes later, the seven disciples came out of the courtyard along with a great noise. They were recklessly pushing the four-wheeled wooden wagon Tamica had hidden in the courtyard in the morning. The creaking of the stone chippings under the wheels was drowned out by the clinking of the glass shards. It was clear that the unwary subordinates had broken some, actually many, of the vials containing the flammable liquid the army's alchemist Ginoppe had prepared, recreating with good accuracy the mysterious liquid Mellrose's soldiers had used to burn Bruarte's Landing to ashes.

Ebora's subordinates pushed the wagon in the middle of the road. The valuable liquid, dripped from the loading bed staves, created a wide trail on the gravelly ground.

Dang. They've wasted at least half of it.

The squad commanded by Tacro, a butcher skilled in gutting every kind of meat, tied the wagon with some ropes. Racitro went before them and explored the square.

Once verified that the square was deserted, Racitro beckoned his disciples to step forward. Tacro's and Ebora's squads pulled the wagon in the middle of the square, just before a fountain crying Eristoph's tears.

Racitro moved back till the aisle along with Garina, Caudio and Cotorzo, two skilled archers. Cotorzo pulled an arrow out of the quiver and dipped the arrowhead in a less explosive and safer oil. Caudio set the arrowhead on fire by means of a match. Some green stains slipped before Racitro's eyes. Cotorzo drew the bow and shoot. Like a shooting star diving in the sea to awake the sun, the arrow streaked across the starry sky and fell on the wagon; the hemp blanket lying over the vials caught fire. Racitro hid behind the stone wall. He plugged his ears and shut his eyes.

The explosion raged wind storms raining smoking firebrands and wood splinters, as lethal as arrows. The wall Racitro was leaning against, the ground under his feet, the sky over his head; everything was shaken by the explosion.

A hot spring night bathed in blood and ashes.

Sinuous shadows stretched on the gravelly ground and danced to the beat of the crackling fire. Salvoes of screams echoed in the neighboring streets. Four horses clopped, heading for the square.

Dang. We can't face the knights by foot.

Ten steel armored infantries ran before Racitro; they were carrying buckets full to the brim with water. Tacro unsheathed his sword, way too eager to join the fight. Racitro stretched the right hand to stop him. An explosion in the opposite square echoed the first one and cut off the soldiers' only escape route. Racitro leaded the three archers, arrows already nocked in the bows, in the middle of the road.

Four knights, but only three arrows. I'm going to deal with the fourth personally. "Aim to the knights."

The arrows hissed in the air.

They hit the knights at the neck. Two of them fell like stones from their horses. The third was dangling from the saddle with a leg tied to the reins and his skittish horse dragged him towards the opposite square raising a cloud of dust. Racitro's fellows unsheathed their sword and assailed the ten dismayed infantries. The knight came in between Racitro's disciples and the infantries, unsheathed the sword and broke his horse into a gallop. Racitro seized the javelin he had on his back. He charged on the left foot and threw. The javelin hit the knight, but its spiked head didn't pierce the steel gorget. Nonetheless, the knight lost his balance. Tacro sank his sword in the horse fleshes. The beast collapsed on the left side, crushing the knight under its weight. Tacro jumped over the horse and cut the knight's throat.

Racitro unsheathed his sword and attacked the infantries, far more trained in the hand-to-hand combat than the civilians Racitro had practiced. Racitro lowered a downcut from right on an infantry's forearm, making him lose hold of the sword. Then, he slit the infantry's throat with a slash from left. The man crashed to the ground quicker than the blood squirting out of his jugular.

Racitro dealt an uppercut from right on the left greave of one of the two unhorsed knights. The knight collapsed and Pagrio smashed his battle axe into the knight's armet.

Racitro tamed a pawing courser. The dangling body of a knight wearing a shining, and dented by stones, armor was still tied in the reins. Racitro didn't unbridle the knight and mounted the horse. He broke it into a gallop towards the thick of the battle, where five infantries were still holding out. The courser split their wedge formation and crushed the most advanced infantry's chest under the hooves.

Racitro pumped his fist in the sky. We've vanquished them. Espio will go nuts.

An arrow hissed at Racitro's ear. It missed his temple by a hair's breadth. Racitro made his courser turn towards the opposite square. A dozen of infantries were pouting out into the road through a breach in the house on the corner of the street.

For Eristoph's sake. They've turned the table on us.

The disciples moved back and glanced at each other. Racitro seized the courser reins.

I can't show any hesitation before my disciples. "Until victory is ours."

Racitro broke the courser into a gallop towards the infantries. He hit a first one at the chest with an uppercut from right. He smashed the skull of a second one under the hooves. He seized the dagger tied at his belt and threw it between an archer's eyes. The woman collapsed with blood spurting from her eye sockets.

A fearless knight jumped over a girder wrapped by flames. Sword in his hand, the knight broke into a gallop towards Racitro. The sword crossed in the air and emitted flashes even more blinding than the two midnight suns.

Racitro lost hold of the sword hilt, but held it by the pommel. He made his horse turn as his enemy was already dealing another assault.

I can't succeed in beating a knight at a gallop. Unless...

Racitro broke the courser at a gallop. He aimed straight at the enemy's courser. By instinct, Racitro's courser moved leftwards. Racitro pierced its guts and jumped on the gravelly ground. Racitro's courser collapsed against the enemy's courser forelegs. The knight fell among the burning piles.

Racitro rolled over, his left elbow was agonizing in an intense burning. He put his right hand to his temple.

For Eristoph's sake. I can't hear from my left ear.

He stood up. He reached the dying horse and twisted the sword in the wound. The beast breathed its last in a bloodcurdling neigh. Racitro approached the fire the knight had fallen in. He saw the knight's eyes evaporate, dried up by scorching flames puffing out of the ventail.

An infantry yelled behind him. Racitro ducked and rolled on the ground. He dodged the enemy's downcut, but his left palm was cut by the sword of a dead infantry he had fallen on. He seized his left hand with the right one and tried to stop the copious bleeding. The burning of that cut made him blurry and caused him nausea. The infantry was standing before him, sword raised to the sky. Racitro's heart skipped a beat.

No. It can't end like this.

A chuffed expression flashed on the infantry's face. The man didn't change expression even when three darts pierced his chest. The sword clanked behind the man. The enemy flopped like a tin-plated keg.

Ebora rushed at Racitro's right side.

"Majesty? How are you?" Her words sounded as loud as whispers.

"Did we manage to turn the tide of the battle in our favor?"

"We've won. But we must withdraw before the reinforcements show up", Ebora looked around. "I lost two of mine. Tacro three of his. Your archers..." She looked full of sorrow. "I don't know. I hope they've already withdrawn."

Helped by her, Racitro stood up holding his left hand. He felt giddy. He staggered, but could stand up.

Ebora seized his left wrist. Espio shook his head. "It's just a superficial wound."

She dilacerated Racitro's right doublet sleeve and wrapped it around the most painful spot on Racitro's left elbow. Racitro grinded his teeth. Then, he dilacerated what was left of his left sleeve and wrapped it around his palm cut from side to side.

"Pick up the booty of weapons and armor plates and withdraw inside the carpenter's shop."

Racitro opened the trap door of the underground passage. The dazzling light of the numerous torches inside the tavern's basement forced him to shut his eyes. Someone seized him by the armpits. He saw Casl and Flina.

My wounding has already reached their ears. I'd swear Espio knew it even before them.

"Go get Facsil", Casl said to Serpeco, who ran out of the door. His heavy steps on the staircase thundered in the basement.

"I hope the sword you've wounded with wasn't poisoned, at least", Casl said. Then, he showed off a vainglorious smile.

"Unfortunately, we can't ask the man who was brandishing it", Racitro said.

Casl laughed out loud. "Actually, I was wondering where you left his corpse. Didn't you take it with you? I'm sure Espio will decorate him with all the honors and will shower his family with Ducats."

Racitro felt nausea. Fearing that the turkey breast, he had eaten at dinner, could find the way back of his stomach, he asked his friends to carry him to a wobbly chair whose seat was as hard as a stone table. "What's new?"

"I can report only as far as we three are concerned", Casl said.

Racitro patted twice his forehead, trying to recover his hearing in the left ear. "For Eristoph's sake. Where are the other squad captains?"

Casl shook his head. Flina laid a hand on Racitro's shoulder. "Wait patiently. The night's still young."

The trap door lifted of no more than an Inch high and closed again as quickly as a rat had hit it. Casl unsheathed the sword and approached the trap door en garde. He lowered the sword point towards the trap door. A blow. Casl's wrist shuddered. The trap door jumped again as it had been hit by a punch or a weak head butt.

"It's Calico", Racitro barely caught a glimpse of Calico's wrinkled forehead and grizzled hair. "Get him out. He should have been beaten up worse than me."

Casl opened the trap door wide. Racitro stared at Calico's emaciated face and threw up the turkey. Racitro tilted on the left side. Flina's spasms echoed Racitro's ones.

Racitro felt better, both in mind and in body. He cleared his mind. Casl lifted Calico by himself over the door opening. Flina reached him and turned up her nose before putting her arm under Calico's shoulder. She and Casl carried Calico towards a chair.

"For Eristoph's sake. Lay him on my cot", Racitro said.

Racitro swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up. He put a handkerchief to his mouth and nose and took small breathes in that air stunk out with pus stench. He came before Calico. The man's left forearm was perforated as it had been pierced by an arrow Calico must have extracted with his teeth from his fleshes. His left cheek skin was charred till the flesh, insomuch that his cheekbone, beaded by a gore clot, was surfaced. The right eyelid was shut and bent inwards, a clear sign that he must have lost his eye in the streets of Ridget. Racitro bent forward. The fetid vapors given forth by the steamy wounds on Calico's right side stopped him. Some blood dripped from the sheets under Calico's calf.

As Facsil came in, Calico started praying Eristoph, but his invocations were distorted by the lack of two incisors and three molars.

Racitro patted Calico on the left shoulder, the only part of that body Racitro had the guts to brush. "What happened?"

It seemed Calico had not heard.

"They wath waiting for uth", Calico grumbled. Then, he spat a gore clot.

An ambush. I must be the one who lays ambushes, not Espio. Dang. That means there's a mole among my disciples. "How many survived?"

Calico grumbled something. "Cheethe it."

Calico's left eye rolled under his half-closed eyelid. He started wheezing. Racitro desisted and trotted towards the chair. He sank back into it.

He stared at Facsil. "Put an end to his suffering."

Facsil brought a glycerol ampoule to Calico's lips.

Casl and Flina walked towards Racitro, their steps drowned out by Calico's agonizing laments. Racitro raised his head. Casl and Flina fell on him bathed in flashes and viscus.

Racitro was lying on the floor when he came around. Flina was lying over his belly.

What happened?

He saw Casl lying prone on the floor. Casl got on his knees and held his head with the right hand. The man crawled till he laid his back against the wall. Racitro sighed. The air thick of roasted flesh stench made him throw up a watery yellowish liquid on Flina's hair.

He peeked beyond Flina's head and looked for the source of what he thought had been an explosion. The cot was spilt into two pieces. What was left of Calico's body was bent between the two cot pieces. All but his head, which was lying on the floor between the cot and the wall. Calico's feet were lying before the blood stained door, Sigeraldo, the innkeeper, had just opened. The man dropped on his buttocks and looked horrified. One Step away from those worn-out boots containing Calico's feet, Serpeco was lying supine, his face charred. Just beside him, there was Facsil, whose face was lacking the nose.

"It was an explosion", Casl said to Sigeraldo.

"Help me, please", Racitro said.

Sigeraldo and his son, who had just come in, got closer. They seized Flina by the armpits and laid her on the floor.

"How are you?" Sigeraldo said.

"I'm fine. Flina and Casl shielded me. Serpeco and Facsil?"

The latecomer, Thea, shook her head.

She is staring at me. Despite being a barber surgeon, she has never seen such a slaughter.

"How could this happen?" Racitro said and lifted up on the chair.

There were no answers.

"Thea. Go get Ginoppe", Racitro said.

Twenty minutes later, a dazed Ginoppe smelt the air in the staircase leading to the basement and withdrew with a disgusted expression. He took a handkerchief and dipped it in the lavender oil. He put it to his nose and climbed down in the basement. Five minutes later, he came back in the tavern kitchens.

"Judging by the point Calico's corpse is split, I think the explosion took place in his stomach", Ginoppe said.

"You told Calico had been mortally wounded", Thea said. "If it is so, there's no chance he could have dragged himself till the tavern under his own steam. Someone must have carried him next to the trap door, so that he could attract your attention."

"But something doesn't square", Casl said. "How can a human body blow up that way?"

"It can't indeed", Ginoppe said. "I need to analyze his poor remnants to be sure, but I think someone forced him to ingurgitate some kind of non-lethal, but flammable substance. You told the explosion had occurred as Facsil had given him some glycerol and I know a substance which can explosively react with that medicine. I'm sure that each of the alchemists serving Espio knows it as well."

That was an assassination attempt. "They turned Calico into a living ampoule full of explosive. Espio was hoping I'd have died in the explosion."

"But Espio couldn't know that Calico was one of your squad captains and that we were meeting here", Thea said.

For Eristoph's sake. "Is there another way to leave the tavern in addition to the front door?"

"Well, there's the dried well in the courtyard", Sigeraldo said.

"What's going on?" Thea said.

"We've to get out of here immediately. If Espio allowed Calico to reach the trap door, it would mean that he knows we are lodging in this tavern. And knowing him, he'll make sure that his brilliant plan achieved the desired effects. We have no more than a few minutes left. We must leave now. Espio's soldiers must have already surrounded the tavern."

Racitro reached the well and climbed it down. Casl, Thea, Ginoppe and a still dazed Flina followed him.

They ran without looking back over their shoulders. They stopped to get their breath back only after they had got five hundred Steps away from the well.

Overcome by the breathlessness, Thea dropped on her knees and there she remained. Her eyes languished. Ginoppe tried to support Flina, who, overcome by tremors, fell against the wall and slid to the ground. Casl was doubled-over, unable to raise his head again.

Racitro addressed him. "Tomorrow, just after the dawn, you must go get all Calico's survived subordinates in their refuge and carry them at Salippo's tavern", Racitro banged his fist on the wall. "One of them is a spy."

Casl panted. He raised his head and gazed at Racitro with dazed eyes. "I don't mean to sound indiscreet, Majesty, but this action proves, without a shadow of a doubt, that Espio is able to put your life at risk more than you ever will with his."

I hate your frankness.

"Casl is right", Flina said. "Tomorrow, we'll be forced to start back and enlist new members, who will be perfect strangers to us. We can't make sure there won't be other Espio's spies among them", she bowed her head. "One spy has done this to us. What will happen if tomorrow the spies are two, three or ten?"

Racitro's leg got weaker. He rubbed his back against the wall and slid to the ground.

For each of my action, there's a twice as effective Espio's reaction. I need to bring this dispute to a higher level or I'll inexorably lose it.

Racitro stood up. He contemplated his subordinates' lost expressions. He stared at Casl. "We need to show to all the spies willing to infiltrate our contingent what happens to who is in the payroll of Espio."

Racitro came out in a farmyard a hundred Steps away from the fruit market square. He touched the ground and the gravels crackled under his fingers.

Racitro lifted up in the farmyard. Something, or someone, moved not far from him. Racitro seized the sword hilt and ran towards the farm walls. Keeping his back against the wall, he snuck off towards the noise source. Then, he heard a goose honking.

Racitro sighed. Dang.

He turned towards his disciples, whose heads emerged from the trap door. Garina went out first and snuck off towards the great wooden main door. She unlocked the padlock with such ability and discretion Racitro could hear the steel clanking just twice. Garina opened the door. Not a single carrion crow cawed along the street, despite crushed fruits, trodden lettuce leaves and seeds of every variety were scattered all over the ground.

A first clue, even though not decisive.

Racitro turned towards Waltre, a twenty-three years old guy Racitro had put under Ebora's command to replace a valiant subordinate fallen the night before, but, most of all, one of the three Calico's squad survivors.

Wait. I must not make him suspicious. If he's the spy, he'll scream to call Espio's soldier attention.

Racitro pointed his finger towards Tamica. The woman walked squatted and reached the main door. Racitro crossed the main door. Back against the wall, he advanced taking advantage of the deep darkness and headed for the fruit market square. Not a single candle was enlightening the windows along the street.

Another clue against you, Waltre. My right hand is tingling, eager to pull out the sword.

Racitro beckoned Tamica to go behind a vase full of tulips and lie in wait. Racitro glanced up towards the firmament and asked the stars. A fleeting star vanished just over the cornice of a building adjacent to the square. It reappeared three, perhaps four seconds after. Racitro peeked at it for five minutes, standing motionless and silent. Tamica didn't say a word and stood crouched down beside him. Her breaths turned into gasps as she tried to control them. The star denied its own splendor for a matter of seconds; then, it sparked as nothing had happened.

It must be because of those clouds good old Nierlado talked about. Those from which the arrows pelt down like raindrops.

"There're some archers on the roofs down the street", Racitro said.

"Friends?" Tamica said.

"Enemies. Let's retreat."

They came back at the farm door. Garina locked the padlock as silent as she had been before.

"Let's retreat", Racitro said.

Racitro climbed down first in the underground tunnel and waited for Waltre.

Well, well, Waltre. Nobody, expect you, has known we were going at the fruit market square tonight. I've not yet cornered you only because I need to hear Tacro's report about Tella.

Racitro leaded his disciples through secondary tunnels till an old dried well a hundred Steps out of the town walls. As he emerged at the night dim lights, he heard some buzzing, and it wasn't the crickets chirping. Tacro's subordinates were all sitting in a circle beside the well. Tacro, however, was strolling alone not far from the well.

Racitro lifted up and got out of the well. He took his lieutenant aside.

"We might have put to fire and sword the entire district without being interrupted", Tacro said.

Racitro patted him on the shoulder. "Let's proceed."

Tacro tried to play it cool, but his hand was already on the sword as he advanced towards Racitro's disciples. They stood up.

Waltre and Tella, perhaps become friends, were talking at each other. They were surrounded by their peers. They stopped talking and turned pale. Waltre drew half step back and looked around, searching for a way out.

Tacro seized Tella's wrist and pulled her away from Waltre. The man's trousers turned to a darker shade. He bowed down before Racitro. "I beg you, Majesty."

"I've always wondered which kind of shape a traitor tongue has", Tacro raised the sword, longing for Waltre's blood. "I'm going to learn it."

"Calm down", Racitro stepped between Waltre and Tacro's sword. The lieutenant reproached.

Racitro addressed Waltre. "We should torture you as Calico and his subordinates have been tortured until Eristoph will get worried for your suffering and will put an end to it."

Racitro unsheathed the sword and raised it to the sky.

"I beg you, please. Have mercy", Waltre never raised his head.

The man's fingers wrapped around Racitro's ankles, as Ricon had done.

Racitro's stomach gurgled. I feel bad if I think I executed him to do justice to Espio.

"Espio has obliged me to betray you. Examine my pockets. They're empty. The King has not lavished me a single Ducat for this service. Instead, he's taken my parents into custody in the Sapphire Palace dungeons. He threatened he would put them to the sword if I didn't accept to accomplish what he asked me", Waltre rummaged in his trousers' pockets. The bystanders unsheathed their swords, sounding like an orchestra. "And, to prove his threat, he's cut off both my parents' right ears."

Waltre put those two gangrenous appendages under Racitro's nose. The cut edge outline was serrated as it had not been cleanly cut off, but snipped to inflict as much pain as possible. Racitro had a spasm in the right arm and lowered the sword.

That doesn't look like the work of such a practiced hand like Silvaco's one. But that sadistic Espio might have done it intentionally. Nonetheless, this traitor can't go unpunished.

Racitro took a deep breath. How can I return Espio the favor?

"You're free to come back grovel before Espio. As far as I know, they could be anybody's ears. I don't feel sorry at all for what you told me. This morning I had to give comfort to thirty-two families."

Nobody dared object. However, Racitro had everybody stare at him. "Tomorrow in the morning you'll be tied on a wagon and carried at the Sapphire Palace. Once there, you'll tell the guards you have a message from me to Espio. You'll tell the guards you won't tell anybody about it. You'll tell it only and solely to Espio. You'll be my gift for him."

Waltre's lost eyes turned towards Racitro. "Oh. Thank you, Majesty. You're so merciful. I'm glad you want me to bring your message. Please, tell me."

"That's all, man", Racitro sheathed his sword and turned around.

"Majesty?" Waltre said.

"That's all. Espio will understand", Racitro said.

Waltre started whining. Dissatisfied with what Racitro had sanctioned, the disciples started beating up Waltre.

Tacro and Ebora walked so close to Racitro that their furious gasps made the hair on Racitro's neck stand up.

"Majesty, why have you pardoned him?" Ebora said. "Wasn't it you who said we'd have punished the traitor in an exemplary manner to avoid other traitors to infiltrate our contingent?"

How I'd like to see Espio's face when this man, bowed down before him, will tell that he is my gift. Espio will execute him and exhibit his corpse out of the castle walls. Then, we'll spread across the people that Espio executed a man who had come to ask the monies due.

Racitro rubbed his hands.

And there goes the spies.

Racitro lied down on the bed and swayed his feet sticking out of the straw pallet edge. He cuddled up under the blanket and blew out the candle. Before falling asleep, he rolled over towards the mildew covered wall and breathed some of those foul-smelling vapors. Someone was pitter-pattering along the staircase. The door opened and a dim flame filled the room with light. Racitro rolled over. Casl and his heavy eyelids came in. He was holding in his hand a still folded parchment sealed with golden wax and lacking the royal emblem.

A message from the magpie.

Racitro plunged his head into the straw and sawdust pillow. "Give it a read and summarize."

"He tells us about Espio's countermoves against our sorties. The magpie says Espio has already found a way to hinder our new strategy thanks to his innate perspicacity. The magpie literally says that you're like an unlocked coffer for your brother."

He knows both of us very well and he's not wrong. But, as happened with Waltre, I can try to puzzle Espio by acting in an unexpected way. "Go get parchment, quill feather and ink. We'll send an answer to the Sapphire Palace."

Casl's arms flopped at his sides. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk, if you please?"

Racitro stared at him. Casl sneered. "So, you're serious. And terribly enigmatic. You look more and more like your brother every day."

Racitro intertwined his fingers and cracked them. Casl snuck off the door. Racitro took a deep gasp and soothed his fury.

I shouldn't take it to heart this way. Good Casl was only making fun of me.

But what if he's right? Am I really becoming what I've always hated? No. I'll never be like him.

He got up and shook his trousers all dotted with straw shavings snagged in the cloth.

Casl came back and sat down at the desk. "Tell me, Majesty."

"I want to make a public appearance. Tomorrow in the morning, at the fruit market, just after Espio will have cleared the square of his guards."

Casl turned around and laid his left elbow on the chair back. "Have you taken leave of your senses? You can't go out publicly in broad daylight. And, most of all, at the fruit market. Espio's soldiers will be spoiled for choices about the best angle where to pierce your heart from. Furthermore, you can't take for granted Espio will clear the square roofs of the archers."

"Don't be silly. Only the most miserable rabble hangs around the fruit market. The Sapphire Palace servants don't use to buy there their supplies. And, as far as the archers are concerned, we're writing the magpie to clear the square roofs. Tomorrow morning, there won't be even an orange peeling knife in that square."

"But what's your intent?"

"Our nightly sorties have no more sense now that Espio has learnt how to countermove us. It's time to change the rules of the game. It's time to do something he is not prepared for. I'll bring the people together. We'll march to the castle and will lay siege on it."

### Chapter 18 - Espio

Espio rolled his eyes to the ceiling, away from the thick envelope of papers Silvaco had put on the table. He banged his fist on the rigid cover of the envelope, but his punch was bounced off. He gave up and started leafing through two dozens of thick reports about the last night disorders written with a boorish use of language.

Even though my officers have refrained from stunning me by personally making their remonstrations, the stroke they used to write down these reports seems to complain in their stead.

Espio raised his head and addressed the advisors. "How do you explain this sudden affection for Racitro's cause? In these reports, the officers claim that hundreds of people have participated at each single insurrection act."

"Majesty..." Silvaco bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. "Last night we were overwhelmed in every district. Hordes of people poured out into the streets contravening your edicts. There was no way to clear out the pubs. I'm speaking from my personal experience", he rolled up his doublet right sleeve. Purple welts and reddish abrasions, caused by a dental arch, flashed on his arm. "Once read your edict before the drunks and the innkeeper, my subordinates and I found ourselves surrounded. The drunks broke the empty bottles and threatened to slit us. We withdrew outside the pub, but we were surrounded, even into the streets, by tens of people armed with knives."

"This war is drawing to a close", Celete said. "And we're losing it. The people have chosen Racitro as their leader, as their King. The town is in Racitro's hands."

"I wonder which kind of nonsense Racitro told to the ever stingy armorers to persuade them to arm the citizens", Espio said. "How could they accept to line their pockets with promises only?"

Celete tapped his forefinger on one of the reports. "Major Lorca claims he got some weapons after a clash against the rebels. We may trace the armorers back by means of the weapons."

"Oh, right", Espio said. "The armorers are proud of their own job. I recall I saw some signatures embossed just on the ricasso of Racitro's swords."

"We'll check them, Majesty", Silvaco said. "Once identified, do you think it would be useful to interrogate the unfaithful armorers?"

"No. I don't believe they have useful information to find Racitro. Anyhow, give them two choices. They could choose either to work for the King without emolument, or to be executed for treason. Racitro is promising liberty. Let them taste my idea of liberty."

Silvaco stood up and left with a bow and a smile.

"Majesty, do you believe Racitro will besiege the castle?" Judging by how Merete's hands were trembling, he must have been really afraid of Racitro's anger.

Listen to your rumbling stomach. The siege has already been laid.

Espio addressed Celete. "What kind of promises Racitro could have conveyed to the merchants in order to persuade them to reduce us to starvation?"

"He is making threats rather than promises", Celete said. "His unceasing assaults at the caravans heading for the castle are reducing us to indigence, Majesty. I fear I won't survive this war, but dying this way...I don't know if there is a worse death than that from starvation."

"We had better let our soldiers escort the caravans", Espio said.

"But what if that's actually Racitro's intention?" Merete said. "If we employ the soldiers for the caravans escorting, the walls will be left undefended."

"If that's the case, request the other vassals to make their armies available to us", Espio said. "In fact, why don't you start writing immediately my missives, Merete?"

Merete took his leave of the King. Espio turned towards Celete.

"A very astute way to remain alone", Celete said.

Espio leaned forward towards the wooden box, which, with a breathlessness not yet soothed, Celete had taken with him. Inside the box there were at least five tomes five fingers thick.

My day has just begun...

"Before spending what we've left of our day with our heads bowed on those tomes I need to know if you have completed the list of the possible Racitro's hideouts."

"The spies you infiltrated have turned out to be reliable, Majesty", Celete rummaged in his beige tunic pockets. He extracted a wrinkled parchment on which there were listed no more than ten places.

"As reliable as incompetent", Espio said. "Do you recall the inept man who, just a lunarquarter before, came at the palace announcing himself as Racitro's gift without reporting any message?"

"And you did the right thing, taking back his hand and the money he had received", Celete glanced, for just a moment, at the reliquaries placed as ornament on the bookcase shelves. Inside one of them, the pickled hand of that man was making its best impression.

It's still plenty of empty reliquaries on that bookcase. When this war is over, I'll fill them with other parts.

"Anyhow, we must be thankful to the spy, Racitro will never suspect of, if we've come into possession of this ten houses list where Racitro will probably rest today", Celete said. "As long as, given the impressive growth of his sympathizers, he doesn't have a bed in each house of Ridget at his disposal."

"We know that Racitro is accustomed to sleep in the morning", Espio said. "As we talk, he has not only lowered his guard, but he is exposed to our counterattack. If your list is as reliable as you say, send the army in the listed houses. If, as I think, they won't find either Racitro or his lieutenants, take the householders into custody and bring them to the open-air fruit market. Tie them at some poles and smother them with the pillows found in their own houses. That will be my message for the people. Whoever is found to accommodate Racitro will be executed with the same pillow Racitro used to sleep."

It will achieve nothing, but, perhaps, Racitro will sleep on the stone cold floor of a hovel.

Espio leaned forward towards the box and grabbed it by the handles. He tugged, but nearly fell out of the chair.

He straightened up on the chair and seized only the tome placed atop. The goatskin label was lacerated in many spots and the pages were yellowish; however, the characters were still intact and legible.

"Have you already started consulting them?" Espio ran his fingers among the many pages, all devoid of drawings and sketches.

"I took that trouble. And, if my memory serves me right, there are several secret passages through what we think are not more than solid walls."

"And, as I guessed, I bet you're on the verge of telling me that one of them is accessible from outside the castle walls."

"Not just one, but three. And I'd like to bring your attention, above all, on the one who leads to the Sapphire Palace", and, perhaps, in my apartments. "We know it twists inside Eristoph's innards, below the servants' rooms. I've personally inspected them and I've found the entry. There is a small trap door in the laundry room which, nonetheless, leads to a broad underground passage hundreds of rebels would use to get inside the castle."

"And do you know where the opposite end leads?"

"In a dried well less than five hundreds Steps from the castle walls."

"In the middle of the suburbs? I wonder what was crossing the builders' minds at that time. The sovereigns of this Kingdom, who have been succeeding on the throne for sixty-two generations, have never been aware of possible assassination attempts."

"You must not forget, Majesty, that when the castle had been built, there wasn't a town around here. Therefore, I suspect that underground passage had been thought to be a way to escape from the castle in case of emergency."

Now I see how Racitro could run away the night he left the castle. But if he knows it...

"Tell me more about the other two secret passages."

"One of them leads to the Doardo's mansion and it's a hundred Steps shorter. The last, instead, leads to the armory. However, we believe it's impassable, because it is collapsed twenty Steps beyond the castle walls and, due to this, we've been unable to find its exit."

"We need to close those passages. Give the builders orders to immediately start the building of some underground walls. I can't allow Racitro to sneak into the castle threatening to kill me, Veneramanda and Clelia", Celete goggled as he heard the Queen's and Princess' names. "Give orders to build walls at least five Steps thick. Force the bricklayers to work day and night. We can't foreknow when Racitro will make use of them. I put the construction in your hands. Make sure that not even an army could cross those walls."

Espio seized a piece of coarse mushy-looking rye bread having a nauseating aftertaste of sawdust. He dipped it in a bland soup of dirty water and pebbles the cook dared call chickpeas. He raised that piece of sponge with the spoon and swallowed the lump in his throat.

At the other side of the table, Veneramanda had the guts to put the spoon in her mouth. She chewed for ten seconds but never swallowed.

Espio's stomach gurgled. He held his breath and put the spoon in his mouth. The wet bread reduced to a limp pulp on his tongue. Espio took a deep breath and swallowed.

Veneramanda threw the spoon in the bowl raising shrill clinks and spurts of soup; then, she banged her fist on the table.

"When have we reduced to eat these inedible slops?"

There she goes again. It's her daily amusement to blame me for what, she well knows, is caused by his beloved Racitro.

The Queen seized the goblet and took a great sip of water. Then, she made a very ungainly gargle with the mouth open and spat in the bowl.

"Please, don't waste the food", Espio said. "If you look around yourself, you'll notice with which eagerness our servants are yearning for that bowl you've spat in; they're just waiting for you to ask them to take it away."

"If they think that this is food, let them eat it", Veneramanda pushed the bowl away. "How many Kings will succeed on their thrones before you solve the problems with the merchants?"

"I'm not worried by the merchants, but, rather, by Racitro's supporters. They are responsible for the assaults at the caravans and for the lack of meat and fish at our table."

Espio's throat got parched. He searched for something to drink, but found only water.

"It's been four days since there were no more wine at the castle", Espio said. "The only drink we've received was some foreign wine tasting like vinegar. Racitro's intention is to force us to pine away by making us quench our thirst with what is usually conceded to the boorish commoners."

Veneramanda put her hand under her chin. She grumbled. "What a noble feeling animates your brother. Steal to the King to give to the people. When I've come to Ridget I've never expected I'd suffer the cruel hunger pangs. But, if what you're saying is true, tell me why this morning the commoners rallied before our gates asking for food."

"Because Racitro doesn't give the people the food he steals, my darling. He has a wicked heart; he is faking a famine among the grass roots in order to exacerbate their acrimony with respect to us."

But, knowing Racitro's haughtiness, it's more probable that his god complex is making him feel like Eristoph. He's imposing us the same famine Eristoph uses to inflict us as penalty for our sins, indeed.

"But you won't lounge about letting Racitro enjoy the wealth of your Kingdom at his own advantage, will you?"

Espio stared at Veneramanda. You play very well the part of the disdained wife, my darling. But your eyes give away the heinous pleasure with which you approve Racitro's feats. And, despite you're on a fast, I'd like to ask you why your hips aren't getting scrawny.

"There's an only way to get satisfying and exquisite food and delicious Angusta wine back on our table. And it's to kill Racitro."

She looked unperturbed, but, at the same time, she clenched her right fist. Oh, you're eager to know my plan. Well. Well.

The rays of a sun setting above the horizon permeated Espio's worn-out limps with warmth. Greedy for milk, Clelia sucked from her mother's breast.

All she's given me is poison.

Espio sat down beside the Queen on the doeskin couch. Veneramanda peeked at him with a fleeting glance out of the corner of her eye. Espio understood and took the sated baby from Veneramanda's arms. He laid Clelia's small combed head on his shoulder and patted her back to make her burp. Clelia didn't seem in the mood, so Espio laid her on his lap. Then, he caressed her on the cheeks and the chin.

Racitro and I have the same chin and so is for Clelia. Cheekbones, eyes and nose shapes are more similar to those of her mother.

"Tell me..." the baby burped. "My darling. Haven't you ever lodged at the inn of a man named Cireo Esthal since you moved to the capital?"

"I don't really understand your question. You should know that, since I moved to the capital, I've never lodged a single night outside these palace walls. What's the reason behind your curiosity?"

"No, you're right. It's been a foolish question on my part", he addressed Clelia. "Daddy is quite foolish, isn't he?"

"Daddy isn't", Clelia said.

Espio ruffled her hair and the baby fixed them up immediately.

The separation from Racitro is doing well for her. And she's stopped waving her small fists as she was brandishing a dagger towards my throat.

"I thought that what I'm about to say could disturb your sleep. But, since you don't know him, you won't worry if I tell you that, on my order, Cireo Esthal has been smothered with a pillow. We found him guilty of the horrible crime of giving Racitro board and lodging."

"You must not talk in such a heinous way before our baby."

It's your cynicism that, somehow, has fascinated me. I've just told you I killed the man who had covered your affairs and you've reprimanded me the same way a conscientious mother would do.

The wet-nurse knocked twice on the door. Veneramanda allowed her to come in and started buttoning up her gown. Then, she stretched her coils towards Clelia and took her away from Espio's arms.

Veneramanda stood up and headed for Clelia's little room.

"Wait, my darling", Espio said. "Let the wet-nurse put little Clelia to bed. She doesn't run any risk. And it's been a long time since we didn't take some time for us."

"I'm very tired and the tumults will begin shortly. Clelia will need her mother to be by her side."

"Come on. I didn't mean to say that I want to share the joy of our nuptial bed; rather, I'd like to spend what's left of this hot evening in each other's company."

She looked uninterested and turned around.

"Don't you want to know the details of my infallible plan to kill Racitro and to put an end to this riot? It's something I've just pondered", Espio pointed his finger at the window. "Look. The sun is setting. The last night of this riot is beginning. Tomorrow will be the day of my triumph and it will be forever remembered as the most important in my regency."

Veneramanda turned towards Espio. The last ray of sunshine drowned in her crystal eyes. As Espio was hoping, she entrusted the baby to the care of the wet-nurse.

Clelia wailed. "I'll be right there, honey."

Espio stoop up from the couch and beckoned Veneramanda to make herself comfortable.

"I hope your plan will let me sleep tight", she sat on the couch.

"I'm sure it will. Starting from tomorrow there won't be much to worry that Racitro would dispute either my right to the throne or little Clelia's one."

Espio sat on the couch. He wrapped Veneramanda's shoulders and tickled her braid between his thumb and forefinger. She replied with a smile and seized Espio's left hand between hers. She started caressing him and stared at him with adoring eyes. Espio turned on.

"I can't wait to hear the details of your plan. Perhaps, did you infiltrate a spy among the rebels who's succeeded in gaining your brother's confidence?"

"No, I pondered something even more ingenious. I'll force Racitro to act openly. Or, rather, I'll induce him to come to the Sapphire Palace."

She smiled with curiosity. "But how do you plan on doing it?"

"Oh, simply by making use of you."

The gentle massage of her soft fingers stopped and her long and manicured nails dug in Espio's skin just enough to make it itch.

"You look worried."

She looked away. "No. It's that...I'm not sure what you mean."

"I admit I've been a little unclear so far. So, I think it would be better to start from the beginning, so that you'll understand where my thoughts have sprung from", he wrapped her shoulders with the right arm. "Tell me, my darling. Who's little Clelia's father?"

Her turgid lips remained shut. Veneramanda gazed into space.

A warm and satisfying feeling pervaded Espio's chest. "Are you really so naïve to think I wasn't aware about your affairs with Racitro taking place in the most boorish inns of the surroundings?" He raised her braid at the level of his nose. "Ah, the salubrious fragrance of the sea. Probably, this fascinating scent has been permeated on your hair by those stinking fishmonger rags you dressed up with to sneak off outside the walls", he tickled her neck in the point where the chains of heart were locked. "Why such anguish? Wasn't it you and Racitro who revealed me your cheats the same day these mendacious chains made you a Queen, even though unworthy of being it?"

Veneramanda shook her head. She arched her back and tried to stand up and run away. Espio held her by the left wrist and the right shoulder. She tried to fight her way free, but Espio succeeded in wrapping his arms around her waist and held her. After that short scuffle, he felt a prick in his pelvis.

"I beg you", she clutched his fingers to free herself from chains much more oppressive than those locked around her neck.

"Come on. Feel free to tell me who's Clelia's real father."

She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her fingers desisted. She didn't say a word. She let the silence shout the name of Racitro.

"Well, if Clelia isn't my daughter, there's no reason to let her live-"

"I won't allow you to harm my daughter."

The sea in Veneramanda's eyes turned stormy. She dug her nails in his left hand skin till she reached the flesh.

"You didn't allow me to end my sentence. I meant that Clelia has no more reasons to live beside you. A mother who would just teach her about the subtle art of betrayal", Espio challenged the storm in Veneramanda's eyes. "But don't worry. I'll make sure she grows healthy and strong. And, someday, when she is old enough, I'll tell her how much her mother contributed to ensure that she could sit on the throne."

She dilacerated his hand with the nails. Squirts of blood tinged her fingers.

Oh, what a delight it is to see you enraged. "Since you don't want to give me an answer, I'll tell you who's Clelia's father", she looked dismayed. "I am her father."

"No. Clelia isn't your daughter", she sneered. "Racitro is her father. He'll wipe you out. You don't deserve anything but dust."

"How do you know for sure?"

She doubled-over, overcome by her laughing. She whispered mumbled words. "Because I killed all those monsters you tried to impregnate me with. You had me, but you'll never claim you've used me for your purposes."

"So...you killed them all", he stared at her. "Every night I had you, you met Racitro and he purged you from the opprobrium I had inflicted at your womb. But, before meeting him, you always stopped by Magda Zandebiase's apartments, your new friend. And, each time, she applied you an acacia ointment to kill the baby I had put inside your womb."

Veneramanda's lips opened wide. Her eyelids contracted. She put her blood dirty hands before her mouth and covered her eyes in despair. "No. No. No", she cried.

"Ah, your trusty friend Magda. You know, she came to inform me the first time you asked her for an acacia ointment to corrode my seed. But she, loyal to me, rather than to you, applied you a honey ointment to promote the germination of my seed. And so she went on upon my gratitude. The only monsters you poisoned, my darling, were those Racitro had put in your womb."

Her hands collected her tears like two goblets. "I hate you. You're a rat."

"Who knows how heavy-heartedly Racitro will take the news. Oh, perhaps, it would be better to let him believe Clelia is his daughter, so that she would serve as bait. As for you, my darling, you won't be anything but the start of my marvelous and infallible plan."

Espio unsheathed the dagger he had been hiding under the doublet. Veneramanda stared at the blade. She raised her hand and slapped Espio on the cheek. She rolled on the couch, hands stretched towards the couch arm. Espio held her by the waist and threw her prone on the floor. Then, he rolled her over. She swung her hands in the air and cracked another slap on Espio's left cheek. Espio grabbed her wrist and blocked her shoulders against the floor. He raised the dagger. He lowered it. It opened wide her chest and slashed her heart. A gush of blood poured out and stained Espio's hands and face. An uncontrollable shake climbed all the way up to his shoulder. The dagger clanked on the floor. Two rivulets of blood poured out of Veneramanda's lips. Espio felt light headed. His stomach was gripped by nausea. His fingers slid off Veneramanda's immaculate silky cream dress. Espio fell beside the hot corpse of his wife and banged his head on the stone floor. He saw all red from the right eye. His legs started trembling. The spasms gripped over each of his limps. He threw up what he had eaten at dinner.

His right hand was drumming on the cold stone. The hair on his back stood up. The bitter taste of vomit, clotted among his teeth, spread in his mouth. All in a sudden, he was surrounded by shrill caws.

He rubbed his thumb on his forefinger and sensed the viscosity of the venomous blood poured out from Veneramanda's heart and which was burning in his eye. He smelled the still intense and pleasant fragrance of the Queen. Perhaps, he started creeping on the ground like the rat she had mentioned, perhaps, he didn't. He felt as he was free falling. He searched for a handhold he couldn't find. Then, two pincers dilacerated his armpits. He shook his arms, but the pincers got even tighter and more distressing.

Silvaco's face flashed before Espio. The man's strong arms cuddled Espio as he was an infant.

What's the matter with me? Why do I feel like I'm dying? Was she a witch, actually?

He saw all red, by both eyes.

Tucked in under the immaculate sheets, Espio's legs trembled without a break. The chill humidity of a washcloth cooled down his forehead.

"Majesty", a distant voice rang in his ears. Espio shook his head. He recognized Celete. "Can you hear me?"

"The King's reaction is understandable", the archiater said. "What happened has shocked him."

"What happened?" Espio said.

Celete bowed his head and hid his eyes behind his wrinkled eyelids. "Queen Veneramanda has-"

"Died?" Espio closed his lips and shut his eyes. He felt a twinge in his heart.

Why do I feel so bad?

"Leave us", Espio said to the archiater.

"Maybe, it would be better for you to have some rest, Majesty", Celete said. "I don't know which kind of solace I can give you."

"No, stay. I need you."

The door closed after the archiater.

"If it's about the Queen, I will spare no effort to ensure that she could have funeral rites worthy of her."

What a trifle. "Make sure the news of the Queen's death will reach Racitro's ears between one service and the other", Celete's lips opened. "I've not finished yet. At the point of death, my beloved Queen told me that Clelia isn't my daughter, but that she sprang from Racitro's subversive seed. Make sure Racitro will understand my next intention. Tomorrow, at the sunset, Clelia will be tied at a pole in the middle of the Arena. At the moonrise, I'll unleash the lions."

### Chapter 19 - Racitro

The faint sparkling of setting stars leaded Racitro to Perla's stable.

The piercing smell of horse manure blew on his face as he got less than two Steps from the small window in the thick brickwork. Racitro put his right hand on the chill stone windowsill. The tattered edge of his tunic sleeve tickled his wrist. Racitro lifted inside the window and flopped towards the inner floor. He fell with his buttocks on something soft but, for Eristoph good will, not slimy. Once on his feet, he started rubbing his trousers, sensing some itches. Hundreds of hay stalks, stuck to the not yet dried blood stains, were adorning his trousers and tunic.

Racitro looked towards the paddocks. He didn't see anything but a few motionless horse silhouettes bathed in darkness. Racitro shuffled his foot on the ground and advanced. A horse neighed. It was two, perhaps three, Steps away. Racitro drew two steps back. His buttocks bumped against the pointed splinters of one of the fence wooden bars. He ran his left hand on that rough path. Once at its end, he stretched his hands forward and groped for the straw pallet Perla had prepared for him.

The straw creaked as someone had squashed it under the foot. Racitro put his hand on the sword. A horse neighed on his right. Racitro squinted. A horse silhouette appeared before him. But it wasn't alone. Just behind it, there was another more fainting silhouette, whose outline was unmistakable.

The hair on Racitro's arm stood up.

I've been betrayed.

Racitro unsheathed his sword and avoided to utter sounds louder than his labored breathing. The straw creaked again, but this time behind him. A breath blew on his hair. An icy blade brushed his throat.

"You idiots", Racitro sheathed his sword.

A grimy hairy arm wrapped Racitro around his chest. Casl burst out laughing, almost rupturing Racitro's eardrums. Racitro smelled his friend's sewer fish breath and turned up his nose.

"If I were one of your brother's hit men, now you'd be dead and he'd have less problems to think about", Casl said.

"Maybe you meant..." Racitro clutched Casl's wrist. He twirled it and got behind Casl's back, pointing the dagger, still in friend's hand, to Casl's throat. "You'd be dead and I'd continue on being the itchiest pustule on Espio's always sat buttocks."

Racitro shoved Casl away and jabbed him on the shoulder. "You're getting better. But who have you dragged with you?"

"It's just me", Casl looked around.

Racitro turned on his right. He saw the horse, but not the human silhouette.

I couldn't be wrong.

Something hissed over his hair. Five Steps ahead that thing collided on the wooden wall and vibrated as it was stuck on it. Racitro hit the deck. He looked towards Casl, who was still standing up.

"For Eristoph's sake", Racitro banged his fist on the muddy ground. Casl sniggered. A silvery female voice echoed him.

"And if I were one of your brother's hit men, I wouldn't go wide"; Flina said.

Racitro stood up. He rubbed his trousers, which were damp at the knees, and the muddy manure stuck on his hands. "I presume both of you had a triumphal and funny night. Otherwise, you wouldn't have wasted your time designing this trick if busy comforting some families."

"I took everybody home safe and sound", a haughty Casl said.

"Don't get too cocky. I've been as successful as you", Flina said.

"But I can imagine that, as happened for me, you didn't find any obstacle", Casl said. He addressed Racitro. "Tonight, your brother's swords didn't cross ours."

"But judging by your smell, Majesty, it seems you've not been that lucky", Flina turned up her nose. "And there we were deluding ourselves into thinking that such a development was symptomatic of your brother's imminent surrender."

"Why? Because I put him to bread and milk? I won't accept any surrender until he lives with rats and urine", Casl and Flina sniggered. "By the way, I hope one of you deigned to bring a helping of the nightly booty."

"Of course. I enjoy taking care of His Majesty", Flina said.

The woman seized a sack and laid it beside Racitro's bristly pallet. She pulled out some sheep cream cheese, carrots, turnips, mutton preserved with salt, spiced with marjoram and rosemary.

I'm feasting in your honor, Espio. Or rather, in your place.

"Which is the reason why Espio didn't send his troops to oppose our attacks, in your opinion?" Racitro spread some cream cheese on a slice of bread. "What we're savoring right now would have been on his table tonight, after all."

"Who knows? Perhaps, we've worn his troops down to the point that he's decided to leave us the town", Casl put the carrots in the boiling pot. "Perhaps, he's decided to rely upon the spies only. We've thousands of disciples and we can't keep all of them under control."

"The enemies I faced tonight were not practiced soldiers", Racitro stretched his tattered sleeve towards his companions. "Espio has put a hit over my head and it's bigger than every reward he's ever offered to the warriors who've faced me in the Arena. I know the soldiers. They're greedy, full of longing, loyal to death. That poor man who ripped my sleeve, instead, was imploring that mercy I could only give him by means of a quick death. And, most of all, I now recall how his hand, wrapped around my wrist, was trembling. Neither for the spasms, nor for his imminent death. But for someone else's safety."

"Do you mean Espio has rounded up civilians from the streets, has put a sword in their hands and has sent them against us as cannon fodder?" Flina said. "But what for?"

The stable fell in a silence only the vapor bubbles in the boiling pot and the horse clopping interrupted.

Espio have something wicked in mind. I must figure out what it is.

Racitro slit Silvaco's throat. Espio's hit man's eyes rolled up. The acrid scent of blood spread through the air. Yet warm, Silvaco's fingers, clutched around Racitro's forearm, grew weak. Then, his arms flopped parallel to the corpse. Racitro loosened his grip around the hit man's neck. Silvaco slipped, back against the wall, tracing a trail of blood Racitro would never erase once on the throne.

Veneramanda's screams stunned him. Racitro broke down the door of the royal apartments with a kick. Espio was lying on the bed and he was raping Veneramanda. Racitro unsheathed his sword and...he was looking at a woman's face whose black hair were dangling, framing her clean face.

No braids.

"Majesty. You have a visit", Flina said. "And it's urgent."

Racitro ran a hand on his face and noticed he had drooled over the sleep. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Who is it?"

"The magpie."

Racitro stopped, his lips half-opened in another yawn. The hooded magpie was waiting next to the horses.

The straw itched Racitro on the elbow. Racitro sat up. His throat was parched. He looked for the wineskin. He didn't find either wine, or water.

Nothing to swallow what certainly will be bad news.

"Forgive me", Racitro rubbed his trousers and cleaned off the straw shavings. He realized he was still wearing that foul-smelling and dirty tattered tunic, which blood stains had dried and turned yellow.

He has not said a word yet. It's another disquieting sign. The magpie doesn't use to weigh his words. "What news do you bring me?"

The magpie bent his head, keeping his face features hidden in a veil of darkness. The white-browed hood turned towards Casl and Flina.

"Do you mind giving us some discretion?" Racitro said them.

"Sure", Casl said. "I know Perla has prepared some delicious candied apples."

Once Casl had closed the door, the magpie raised his head, but kept his face hidden, and so were the words he had come to report.

"Don't be worry. I have eyes outside this house."

Racitro stood up and scraped the chair beside the table. He sat and offered his interlocutor to take a seat. The magpie seized his white-browed, long to the ankles, tunic edges and sat. Racitro peeked under the hood, but didn't see more than the magpie's chin.

"My...Prince", he laid his skinny fingers on the deployed map above the table. His fingers made a slow, conveying agony, dance which climaxed on Racitro's right hand.

These hands...

"The Queen." No. "She's died."

Racitro's heart skipped a beat. Then, the fury caught fire in his chest. His throat shut and he was unable to swallow. His legs grew weak. The tingle climbed all the way up to his shoulder.

Veneramanda. Veneramanda. No.

Racitro grinded his teeth and bent his head. The magpie's cold and skinny hands became as rough as gravel.

Racitro took some deep breathes.

"Espio did it", the magpie whispered.

Racitro raised his head. His teeth creaked. He stared straight in the hood. He bit his lower lip. The magpie's claws made his hands itch. He freed them. The magpie crashed to the ground. Racitro leaped up. He raised his fist over his head. Like an axe, his punch passed through the map and the table, which exploded in hundreds of splinters. Racitro seized the chair. He smashed it against the brick wall. He grabbed one half of the wrecked table by a leg. He disintegrated it against the wall. Sparks of wood pelted down in the stable. The horses neighed and clopped crazed. Racitro grabbed the other half of the table by the leg. He hammered it against the wall, again and again. The wrecked wood cracked one smash after the other and rained down as those tears Racitro had not cried. "Curse you, Espio. Curse you. Eristoph take me at the word. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him", he addressed Celete. "Go tell him. Go tell him I'm gonna kill him."

Racitro panted. The table leg he had in his hands was broken in two dangling stubs. Racitro flung it to the ground. He looked at Celete and ran to his pallet. He grasped the sword belt and buckled it around the waist. Those skinny fingers clutched Racitro's right shoulder. Racitro shook them off. He turned around. The elder, more raven than magpie, didn't caw one wail, but, judging by how he was holding his right hand with the left one, Racitro must have broken his little finger.

Racitro headed for the door, ready to break down even it. Celete kept Racitro's pace and seized him by the sword belt. Racitro elbowed so powerfully he could have struck Celete dead. Celete lowered and dodged the elbow. The hood slipped off his head.

"Prince. Don't do anything foolish", Racitro seized the door handle. "You won't get justice for the woman you loved by going out in broad daylight and heading for the castle. Think about...your daughter."

Racitro halted on the jamb.

Clelia. He said: 'your daughter'. Espio knows it. That bastard. No. I won't allow him to kill her.

"I know it. And the King knows it as well. And the reason why I've come here is that I have to report you a message. Your brother is informing you that, at the sunset, your daughter will be tied to a pole in the middle of the Arena and that, at the moonrise, the lions will be unleashed."

"And these words should talk me out of rescuing her immediately, in your opinion?"

"Prince", Racitro was closing the door after him. "Majesty. Don't be reckless", Racitro halted. "No matter how much you can detest him, Espio is your brother and nobody knows you better than him. He knows how impulsive you can be. And what you're doing now isn't any different from what he foretold me. If you cross that door now, your feat won't have any hope of succeeding. Whatever you're looking for, whether it is revenge, the throne or the love of your daughter, you won't get it if you agree to play by Espio's rules."

Racitro pattered his left leg unintentionally. A nag neighed. Racitro's fingers trembled around the sword hilt.

I can't stay here twiddling my thumbs. What should I do?

"Do you have a plan? Because if you don't, nothing will hold me here. I'll go to the castle even if I have to thread my way through a hail of arrows and darts."

"I've conceived a plan, Majesty. Allow me to explain it to you. I'm sure it'll be time well spent."

Racitro came in the stable and closed the door.

Celete beckoned him to sit down on the straw pallet. Racitro agreed, but didn't unfasten the sword belt and didn't lay the sword down. The elder picked up a chair, scraped it before Racitro and sat. Racitro stood up and started walking to and fro between Celete and the pallet.

"Dang. What're you waiting for?"

"Before we start, I want you to promise you won't leave this safe place until the sunset."

Racitro halted. "Wasn't it you who said that Espio will unleash the lions by that time?"

Racitro's shouts blew on Celete's beard, who kept a straight face. "The fervor for the loss of your beloved Queen is obfuscating your mind, Majesty. Didn't I tell you that Clelia will be tied to the pole at the sunset, but that the lions will be unleashed at the moonrise? According to Master Tobiarte, tonight, the moon will appear in the sky no less than three hours after the sunset."

Racitro marched to and fro between the fences. He clenched and opened his right hand fingers trying to let off some steam and refrain from that impetus which was suggesting him to unsheathe the sword and take action. "How do you think I'd break into the castle unnoticed?"

"Majesty. As you know, your brother is wise and shrewd. Nonetheless, he's made a mistake which could turn out to be deadly and that we must take advantage of. He's trusted me and you well know that, among my many duties, I'm in charge of guard rotations."

Sure. Once inside the castle, I won't find any obstacle until Espio's apartments.

"Moreover, I think you already know how to sneak in the Sapphire Palace without crossing the walls."

"Do you mean the secret passage? But wasn't it you who said me Espio had built a five Steps thick wall to obstruct that passage? I'll never break it down in less than three hours. And with the guards standing on the other side, in addition."

"Majesty, I told you what your brother had charged me to do. But, unfortunately for him, he recklessly entrusted me of the construction works."

Racitro stopped and contemplated one of the coursers which was chewing the fodder reserved to another horse. "And what have you plotted behind his back?"

"I bribed, upon rich reward, the bricklayers. They built a not thicker than three Inches wall. It's still an insuperable obstacle for my weak limbs. But, with a good pick, I'm sure you won't find it difficult to break down that wall in a matter of minutes."

"But what about the guards?"

"They won't be a problem. I'll make sure to change their rotations, so that, at the sunset, nobody will guard the wall."

"And what about my brother? Do you really believe you can deprive him of his personal guards' protection without him knowing?"

"I'd never brag about that kind of feats. However, you brother uses to rest in the afternoon cause of the baby's cries which keep him awake all night", Ah, Clelia. Mum taught you well. "And, taking his cue from you, he's issued a decree which obliges the Sapphire Palace residents to share in turn their bedrooms with him, so that he can rest, for safety reasons, in a different room every afternoon."

"And do you know where I'll make sure he gets all the rest he deserves?"

"Not yet. The King notifies us about his decision only after lunch. But, don't worry", Celete bent his head. "You'll find a parchment inside the Queen's burial chamber."

Racitro buckled the sword belt and fastened a torch and a pick with a strap at the level of his waist. Then, he hid them under the long charcoal cloak. He gathered his long black hair under the faded white-browed hood and lifted up on the windowsill. The narrow dirt road was gilded by the rutilant pallor the evening sky was tinged in. Three noisy children were engaged in a chase game along the road. A drunkard, about thirty years old, was chasing after their funny shouts.

I'm coming, Clelia.

Racitro walked along the streets, keeping his head bent and avoiding eye contact with the other people.

He reached the well undisturbed. He seized bucket and rope. He took a quick glance all around and came down through the narrow hole.

He advanced in the darkness as long as he was away from prying eyes. Then, he caught the torch on fire. He walked along the four hundred Steps which leaded him to the place where, according to Celete's always accurate information, there was the wall. A gust of wind, thick of a fragrance of flowers and salt, rekindled those warm memories which, step after step, were dissipated by the strong-smelling stench of lime.

A quadrilateral of bricks, stones and lime was blocking the way. Racitro put his ear to the icy stones and listened. He grabbed the pick and tapped it three times against the wall. Not even a rat squeak answered.

He moved away from the wall and pointed the pick in the dried lime between two bricks. He took a deep breath, charged and pickaxed against the wall as it was Espio's flaccid body. He made a crack in which he would barely insert his little finger distal phalanx. He put his ear to the wall again. Not even a draught whispered.

Ten minutes later, despite his hands were dirtied with sweat and thick dust, he broke down on the other side. The crumbled lime slipped to the ground. Racitro swerved on his left, back against the wall. Not a single dart crossed the wall. He got closer to the hole. He pickaxed ten times around a stone as big as his head. The stone crashed to the ground on the opposite side, as deafening as a thunder. Racitro threw the torch through the hole and peeked inside. Only static shadows stretched out of the flakes of plasters lying on the ground.

Racitro lifted the trap door of no more than a nail's breadth. He saw only darkness. He lifted of another nail's breadth and peeked inside the laundry room. He caught sight only of the inanimate furniture and of the piles of foul-smelling rags. He lifted the trap door little by little, but he couldn't prevent the hinges from creaking. He closed the trap door with such caution that he caught his fingers in the trap door.

He creeped towards the door and looked under the door gap. A warm draught blew on his face, reminding him of Veneramanda's captivating breath on his neck. Racitro took a deep breath of it. He sensed the pungent smell of blood. He followed it till a couple of foul-smelling rags, which he moved away. He found a long tunic with bell sleeves. Among the many runs, caused by Veneramanda's curvy breast, there was a gash whose edges were serrated and stained. Racitro nestled it and tried to get some relief from Veneramanda's fragrance permeated in the cloth, but smelled only blood.

Curse you, Espio. You'll pay for what you've done her.

Racitro got next to the door and seized the handle. He turned it. He opened the door of a phalanx's length and peeked in the aisle. He noticed only the dark silhouettes of the still statues.

I hope my ancestors will bless my mission and acknowledge who, among me and Espio, has dishonored the good name of our family.

He went out of the laundry room, leaned his back against the door and closed it. He unsheathed the sword and moved from one statue to the next. The clamor of a pair of sentries in the courtyard forced him to hide behind his ancestor Velacro's wide belly. He looked out of the window. Two halberds were towering above the sentries' steel covered heads.

They could have just tied Clelia's wrists to the pole in the Arena.

Racitro grinded his teeth and his right hand got itchy. He shook his head and took a couple of deep breathes.

Espio first.

He snuck up to the corner of the aisle. He peeked beyond the corner and laid his eyes on the fourth door on left, the room that, according to Celete, had been set up as burial chamber for Veneramanda. Flashes of light were coming out from the door before the burial chamber, on the right, and from the one immediately after, on the left. Racitro tiptoed towards Veneramanda's room. A manly voice crossed the door on the right. Racitro halted in the middle of the aisle and tried to take his breathing under control. He peeked under the door gap. No shadows approached the door.

Racitro reached the burial chamber door and leaned his back against it. He turned the handle and came in, without taking the time to take a look inside. Racitro was overwhelmed by the floral essences the lilies had given forth. The dim nightly lights outside the window allowed him to see Veneramanda's silhouette. She was stretched out on the catafalque. Racitro reached her, not caring about his heavy steps. The liveliness of her smile was evaporated along with the fragrance given off by the lily posy she had in her hands to cover the wound in her chest. Racitro caressed her long silky white dress hemmed with laces, which was highlighting her rounded shapes. He touched her hand and thrilled as only she was able to make him thrill. Her hair, of an even higher grade, were plaited in two braids flowing on her shoulders. Racitro bent his head over hers. He beaded her forehead with his kiss. Her hair gave forth all that savory scent they were pervaded with. He caressed her wan cheek and contemplated her sad smile. He laid his nose on hers. He shut his eyes.

"Veneramanda", a tear wetted his eyelids. It fell on his beloved's left cheek, there it stayed and didn't slip away, like a dewdrop on a chill petal. Racitro spread it on her cheek with gentle circular movements. Another tear surfaced from his right eye.

For some endless moments, he stayed bent over her.

He stifled a hiccough and stood up.

She's smiling more.

One finger after the other, he seized her right hand. "I'll get justice for you, my Queen. I'll take care of our Clelia and she'll have all the love you'd have given her. You'll see. Someday, she'll be a Queen as pretty and strong as you were."

Under the catafalque drape, as agreed with Celete, Racitro found a folded and not sealed parchment. He got closer to the window and, by means of the few light available, he read what Celete had written him.

'Anico's room.' It's where you'll die.

Racitro opened the door. The candle in the room on the opposite side had been blown out. The one on left, instead, was still burning. Racitro closed the door, crossed the aisle and snuck up before the enlightened room.

He walked along the aisle till he reached the staircase. He climbed the stairs with such caution he was unable to hear his own steps. He saw Anico's room, the fifth door on right and, right in front of the door, there were Silvaco and Graunio lying in wait. The light emitted by a candelabrum placed on a small table was spreading for a good half of the aisle. No light was coming out of Anico's room door gap, a sign that Espio was still taking his rest before dinner and the savage slaughter which would take place within an hour and a half.

My hand is tingling. I can't wait to kill him. But before piercing him, I need to look one last time in his eyes.

He stayed for a good fifteen minutes on his knees on the staircase steps. He could listen to the repeated whispers with which Graunio tormented Silvaco about the miserable dinner that was waiting for him. Racitro's stomach gurgled.

Does that scatterbrained Malica want me to wait for how long?

Someone lighted a candle in the seventh room starting from the staircase as the cramps were already gripping Racitro's legs. The door opened and Malica came out. Her trembling hand made the candles on her candelabrum flicker. Silvaco and Graunio stared at her. Racitro stretched his legs and leaned against the wall on the last step. Malica put her left hand to her forehead and, with a sigh, she collapsed to the ground like a pear from the branch. Graunio moved towards the noblewoman first. Then, Silvaco followed him. The two guards kneeled down beside her. Racitro tiptoed, keeping his eyes on the two guards. He opened the door, which was open thanks to Celete. A moment later, he was inside, the door closed behind his back.

Anico's room was bathed in darkness cause of the thick curtain before the window and not a gleam was crossing his edges. However, Racitro could see the bed and Espio's body under the sheets. Espio was lying on one side, his eyes pointing towards the opposite side of the room. Racitro peeked at the floor and verified that there was nothing on his way. He moved those few steps that were separating him from turning his brother into a corpse. He halted before the bed.

I want to see you as you die. I want to see if you die like a vile boor or haughty and full of yourself as you have always been.

Racitro seized the candelabrum and the match on the bedside table and lighted one of the candles. Espio moved his head and lifted it up from the pillow comfortableness. Espio started rolling over towards his death. Racitro raised his sword.

It's just you and me.

Racitro didn't lower the sword. It wasn't Espio. It was Anico.

Dang.

An icy metallic spike dilacerated his skin and flesh at the level of the left scapula. The subsequent breath got stuck in his throat. An atrocious twinge ran down his back. The candelabrum clanked on the floor and rolled under the bed. Racitro stared at Anico, who goggled. Racitro tried to turn around, but another metallic spike pierced his right shoulder. His fingers, wrapped around the sword hilt, grew weak. He managed to hold the sword and turned around. Some gleams were coming from the door. He locked his eyes with Silvaco and Graunio, who were standing with their unsheathed and showy swords beside two archers with their arrows already nocked.

It can't end this way. Espio can't have the better.

Racitro tried to raise the right arm, but couldn't. His knees shuddered. The guards' face blurred. Racitro focused on them. An iron bloody taste spread on his tongue. The archer on left shot. Racitro thought he could dodge it. The arrow wounded him in the pelvis.

He had a blackout. Once the stab soothed, he was on his knees, his back arched backwards. He wrapped his left hand around the arrow, but couldn't extract it.

Another arrow pierced his chest. Racitro felt light-headed. A few moments later, he found himself leaning against the sheets. The arrow twisted in his chest every time he breathed. The blood climbed up his throat and filled his mouth. He couldn't stop it. The ceiling started pulsing.

No. Clelia. I must save her. I must save her.

Celete's arrogant face appeared before Racitro's eyes. "You cheating bastard", he had wanted to shout it, but, perhaps, those words had not left his lips.

Celete's lips opened, spitting the most venomous of the poisons. The elder nodded. He vanished. Veneramanda appeared. Fleetingly. It was a cold hug, like two icy swords in the belly.

### Chapter 20 - Epilogue

"Arena", Clelia said.

"That's right", Espio said.

He leaned forward and the baby wearing a grass green dress, soiled with dust, wrapped her small arms around his neck. Espio wrapped his left arm under her buttocks, dug the walking stick in the ground and lifted her.

Soon, I won't be able to carry her anymore.

"Can you smell the scent of sweat? Can you hear the bones cracking? Can you feel the immortal glory? Here is where the warriors fight, Princess."

She looked around. "But nobody is fighting."

"It's between us. Would you like to fight against your daddy?

"Yes", the baby raised her arms and smiled with joy.

Espio laid her on the ground and moved five Steps farther. "Bring it on, my little."

The baby rushed towards him, stretched her hands forward and hit him at the good knee. Espio found himself lying in the dust. The baby was lying on his belly and he had a painful twinge in the sacrum.

"You've defeated me."

"I'm strong."

Espio lifted her in his hug. "Soon, you'll be the strongest of our family, Princess."

Egina, one of the guards, handed him the more and more hateful walking stick, chipped on the point, Racitro had forced him to shackle to. Two servants rubbed Espio's buttocks with a couple of rags. It was a relieving massage with which they took the dust away.

"It's getting late, treasure of the King. The dark and unquiet night will fall soon. It's time to carry you to-"

"Mum?"

The thought brought a twinkle to her blue eyes.

She's always looking for her, night and day. "We'll go visit her. But not tonight."

Clelia proved she already knew how to frown.

"This is a King's promise", Espio said.

Espio came back at the Sapphire Palace carrying the baby. She turned every time they met a noblewoman or a lady with black hair wearing a long dress. With disarming timeliness, she showed off a clouded face.

She knows. She's too smart to be taken in. Unlike Racitro.

"Daddy", Clelia said as she saw the wet-nurse. As soon as Clelia was in the wet-nurse strong arms, the baby looked at her dad.

"I'll be back in time to bed you", he kissed her on the forehead. "See you later, Princess."

Espio nibbled for a good hour some tasteless stale bread and a malodorous cabbage decoction which reminded him what he was forced to swallow after the fall off the horse caused by Racitro. Espio shuffled his left foot under the table and started drumming the spoon on the bowl. The door opened. Espio raised his head from those inedible courses. It was only another disheveled servant carrying a half empty tray of canapés covered with a greenish cream which shone like vomit.

Where's Silvaco?

Espio moved from one chair arm to the other. One of the servants put under his nose a wrinkled brownish poached apple. Espio sank his spoon in the mushy pulp, which deflated releasing putrescent miasmas.

The door opened. Silvaco, still intact and wearing an unscratched shining armor, came in the banquet room.

The apple sweetness gladdened Espio's palate. As sweet as victory.

Silvaco, as previously established, leaned his back against the wall beside the door. He waited motionless and with his arms folded. Nonetheless, he flaunted a rude smile, whose ends were reaching his ears.

Once in the study, Espio found Celete. The elder's arms were folded on the table. Maybe worn out by the upcoming death the archiater had predicted him, the elder kept a straight face. Espio sat by Celete's side and the two looked at each other for a while.

"Majesty", Silvaco started talking without waiting for the guards to give them the needed privacy. "Your plan has achieved perfection. In all the squares and taverns from Rujo down to Rigas Mausir, tomorrow, the people will praise your greatness."

"Woe betide you if that occurs", Espio waited for the guards to close the door. "We can't let the details concerning what happened tonight leak out these walls. And by these walls, I mean the four which prop up the roof over our heads. If tomorrow troubadours and jesters sing chants about what occurred in my cousin's room, we'll be in great peril."

Silvaco looked joyful and couldn't keep his hands steady. Espio addressed Celete. "And what about you? Which were my brother's last words?"

"I'm afraid, but he didn't leave me dying words for you, Majesty", Celete bent hid head. "Nonetheless, I fear he cursed my name to Eristoph and, since I'll meet him shortly, I've reason to be scared. My time is coming."

I've known you for thirty years, but I've never known your pious abnegation.

Silvaco scraped the chair, leaped up and puffed out his chest. "Majesty. Allow me to give you what you so eagerly wanted."

Silvaco reached the door. The subordinates outside the room handed him a reliquary covered with a green velvet sheet with the Cilantes' coat of arms embroidered in gold. Looking at how Silvaco was holding the reliquary in his hands, it seemed he was marching under the Arena bleachers in triumph. "I hope I've cut off his body's appendage the way you wished."

He laid the reliquary on the table and unveiled it. Racitro's right hand had a coarse serration where it had been cut off and was bathed in blood. The glory Silvaco was showing off was really out of place. Espio's stomach gurgled. "Cover it and put it beside my wife's heart."

Now I've got both my trophies. I'll cherish Veneramanda's treacherous heart as a sempiternal testimony of the women's unfaithful love; and Racitro's right hand, emblem of his strength, as a testimony of my success.

Espio peeked at Celete, whose chin was lying on his hands. The elder's outward appearance was not altered in any detail by the horrible crime he had just committed.

"A war is over", Celete said. "But, if you won't act to the best of your ability, soon, another war will knock on your door."

"You're right"; Espio said. "So, you both have two choices. Will you sing my song? Or will you force me to sew your lips?"

Racitro's body was laid out on the top of the castle walls in order to discourage the reluctant commoners from prolonging the riot. The night after Racitro's death, the uproar was put down and Espio officiated the sumptuous celebrations with the stomach full of beef and the throat delighted by mulled wine.

Sat on his throne, Espio exhorted Magda Zandebiase to come before the predella. The woman, of Racitro's same age, made a curtsy, lifted her dress train to discover her knees and genuflected with deference on the pebbles lying on the gravelly ground before the throne predella. Espio grabbed that chipped wooden stick Racitro had reduced him to shackle to. He came down the steps and reached the lady. Silvaco passed him the shimmering Breath of Fire. Espio laid it on the woman's shoulder.

I'll make you an example of my generosity. "Magda Zandebiase. Do you swear before your King to wait on him hand and foot as long as Eristoph will relieve you from these duties?"

"I swear", she said, head bent.

"And do you swear, on behalf of your entire lineage, to serve your King and the House of Cilantes with sempiternal and indisputable loyalty?"

"I swear, on my own behalf and on behalf of my descendants."

Espio raised the sword and sheathed it. "Then, my lady, stand up as Milady Magda Zandebiase, vassal of Traclia and of the Ridget's eastern earldom."

The woman stood up and made a decorous curtsy. "Thank you, Majesty. Long live to you and to our everlasting alliance."

Espio dismissed her and climbed the three high predella steps. He sat on the throne and looked at Celete, sat on a humbler wicker chair on the King's right.

"My dear Celete. If the symptoms of your disease don't prevent you from genuflect before your King, I'd like you to do it."

The elder stood up and came down the steps with excessive slowness.

Will I end my days in his same conditions? A weak and frail man always lifting his dress edges in order to avoid stumbling?

"How can I serve you, Majesty?"

"Celete, you're, before any of your many duties, a dear friend of mine and of my family. Ask and I'll give you whatever you wish if it's within my power. Tell me. What will make your last years of life more cheerful? Ducats? Lands? The love of a woman? Don't be modest and exceed in sincerity."

"Majesty..." he took a long breath as he was on the verge of collapsing on the gravelly ground. "Serving your family and preserving its honor has been the greatest duty someone has ever and will ever grant me of. I have no children I could bequeath the money and lands you are generously offering me and I don't yearn for a fleeting affair with a woman. But what I'm going to ask you is, perhaps, even more demanding for you. I ask you for dismiss, Majesty. I'd like to come back home and feel again that savory breeze which, when I was young, used to tickle my face. I'd like to come back, hear the seagull calls and take delight in the candor of the foaming waves on the cliffs for the few lunarcycles Eristoph will grant me of."

"So be it", Espio stood up and came down the three steep steps. He stretched his hand to the most loyal among his servants. Celete accepted his King's hand and Espio helped him stand up. "I bet I'll regret you were not here whispering to my ear. I wish you serenity and prosperity for what you've left to live."

"Farewell, Majesty", Celete bowed. "Long live the King and the House of Cilantes. May Eristoph always watch over you and your Kingdom."

"Please, give to the greatest servant of the Kingdom a round of applause", Espio said. A crowded hall greeted Celete's march towards the main door. It was so slow that Espio had already skinned his palms when Celete was only halfway of the nave.

Espio turned towards the odious steps and decided not to climb them again.

"Majesty", Silvaco bowed. "I'm glad to inform you that, this morning, we've attacked the rebels' hideout and we've arrested and beheaded all of Racitro's lieutenants in the public square."

"That's cause for great bliss. I owe you so much. Your loyalty is incorruptible, Silvaco. And, since you have still many blooming years before you, tell me, which kind of reward would best befit your actions?"

"I live to serve you, Majesty. I swore before you and Eristoph and only the death will relieve me of my duties. Nonetheless, I have a family I have to take care of. Therefore, if in your rightness you believe that it would be appropriate, I'd like you to grant what you're going to grant me directly to my children."

"Has your family been invited to this ceremony?"

A woman wearing a worn out cloth dress and three disobedient children, looking disenchanted, moved in third row. Silvaco looked at them and they asked the courtiers the permission to come forward. They threaded their way through a pile of snakes ready to squeeze them among their coils.

How many of you, mean vipers, have shed their skin in order to keep on prospering at the winner's table? You should thank Eristoph that I've been too busy, otherwise I'd have already skinned you and revealed your despicable nature.

"Oh, you're so fascinating", Espio said.

The wife stretched her callous hand, which nails were dirtied with dry soil. Espio forced himself to hold her hand and didn't bat an eye when she smacked a slimy kiss on his knuckle.

"And these three children are all yours?" Espio addressed Silvaco. "Given your unrestrained worries about me, I wonder when you had the time to conceive them."

Sordid polite giggles followed Espio's words.

"And you, my little..." Espio took the risk of ruffling all the children's full of lice hair. "You're all proud of your dad, aren't you?"

"Yes, Majesty", the sole daughter said.

"Stand up, Silvaco and be proud. I'll grant your descendants of a title. Your family will be allowed to dwell in the castle and, to your oldest daughter, when she comes to age, I'll grant the feoffment of the Ridget's southern earldom, under the jurisdiction of vassal Doardo."

Silvaco knelt down. "Majesty. You granted my family of humble origins with such a great honor."

The wife genuflected as well; then, she tugged her children's sleeves to force them to pay the befitting reverences.

The long cortège of nobles, servants and soldiers, bearing the Rigas Mausir banners, burst into the courtyard before the Sapphire Palace. Wearing a cobalt blue blouse, hemmed with mournful black, a stern Caiano Toriad dismounted of his horse and casted a languish glance on Espio. Espio raised an eyebrow as he looked at the withering glances the Toriad youngsters casted on him after dismounting of their horses.

For every headache I relieve from, three more start pestering me.

Caiano made a deferent bow, even though without any zeal; a reverence his ill-mannered sons decided not to perform.

"Majesty, can you tell me..." Caiano said.

"Your daughter is in the burial chamber. Graunio, take our honorable Rigas Mausir's vassal and his entourage to his poor creature, my dear departed Queen."

Caiano passed beside Espio and his cape flapped in that same western wind he had taken with himself along with storm clouds ready to beat down on Espio.

Scelika Toriad grimaced. Her face features reminded Espio of Veneramanda, but she looked even uglier. Licinio Toriad's eyes were as churned as a stormy sea where Espio's own reflection was struggling not to drown.

They blame me for the death of their young sister.

The youngest, who had been named after his King, but certainly had not Espio's same courtesy and good manners, was not accompanied by anyone. He halted before Espio, forcing the line of relatives and friends in condolences to stop.

"Wouldn't you dare to inter your brother in the same sands where you'll inter my sister, I hope?"

Your father should have named you after Racitro.

Espio put his right hand on the youngster's shoulder. "I'll never be that rude to you. My brother's shameful actions have thrown your family into tragedy, but have also vituperated the good name of mine. As you can see, we both agree to divest his name of all his honors. Have you heard that I've already enacted a law to prevent every baby to be baptized before Eristoph after the name of Racitro?"

"No, really", Veneramanda's brother turned up his freckled nose, but didn't utter other comments and moved snout and mumbles away from Espio's attention.

Veneramanda's corpse started sinking in Eristoph's granular belly, desecrating those same sands where Espio had already interred his parents. The original softness of her face features had been spoiled by the long wait caused by the slow cortège which had moved from Rigas Mausir and that Espio had informed with great delay. The ointments her body had been anointed with emphasized the emission of putrefying vapors.

The prelate started stamping his feet on the ground. Caiano tilted towards Espio and whispered. "Majesty. My daughter was an exquisite flower and your brother pulled her off one petal after the other. I understand you're suffering for her death as much as me, but I want to thank you for doing justice to her by killing your own flesh and blood." The usual magniloquent prelude which foreruns the request of a concession. "Nonetheless, the heinous crime occurred in your dwelling, while my daughter was under your protection. Therefore, I'd like you to make up for your fault."

Veneramanda's body wasn't sinking on the left side, as if the royal sands rejected her.

Espio stared at her nose. There's an only way I can accomplish Caiano's request about my 'fault'. And I really don't like it.

The mischievous two years old kid, Scelika was holding by the hand, shouted out of control.

Espio bit his tongue. "And how would I ever make up to my fault?"

"Before dying, my daughter gave you an heir, a Princess. Someday, she'll be Queen. Scelika already gave me an heir, but Glindo will inherit the Rigas Mausir's fief. However, my next grandson will be free from obligations and, thus, we would arrange a royal engagement with Clelia."

You despicable scoundrel. May Eristoph turn me to dust if I ever allow to the Toriad's blood to become predominant in the royal lineage. "Come on, Caiano. My daughter is just one. Don't you want to burden her with such a commitment and to deprive her of the joy of a cheerful childhood? You'll see. I'll grow her up full of sense of duty and aware of her subjects' loyalty. And, I'm sure that, when time comes, she'll opt for one of your grandsons in her own initiative and will seal once and for all the sempiternal alliance between our two families."

Caiano frowned.

Espio smirked. "You can rely on your granddaughter's good judgment. Isn't Toriad's blood what's coursing through her veins, after all?"

"Something very reliable, indeed" Caiano showed off an insolent smirk, as if he wanted to emphasize that Cilantes' blood was purulent.

Someday, I'll cleanse insolence from your tongue by dipping it in your heir's blood.

The trumpets blared and Clelia clapped her hands. Holding her in his arms, Espio made her feel, for the first time, the emotions of entering the Arena of Battles in the cortège of nobles. Clelia fanned her face with her hand, trying to find relief from the unusual heat wave of a mid-spring sunny afternoon. Espio appreciated those bits of air on his face.

The Arena welcomed them in a complete silence. Despite the attendance of over three hundreds commoners under the rigorous guards' control, nobody raised either rejoicing shouts, or grunts full of dissatisfaction. Espio struggled to hold the way too energetic Clelia in his arms. She turned and turned without a break in every direction.

"All hail Princess Clelia", the shout rose from the area opposed to the royal dais.

I'm a tyrant for the commoners. She's Racitro's daughter, instead.

Espio sat on his throne. The walking stick crashed to the ground and bounced on the steps. Clelia laughed. The baby sat on Espio's almost numb right thigh.

Espio grabbed a hair which was dangling from his doublet at the level of his chest, which Clelia had probably lost.

Wait. This is way too long to be one of Clelia's hairs.

His fingers shuddered and the hair, probably belonged to Clelia's mother, twirled in the air and got lost in the wind.

Since I opened her chest, the only woman I've been able to touch is Clelia. Better this way. I'll never give her a younger brother or sister who'll be envious of her birthright.

Espio enjoyed sipping some Angusta red wine from a goblet. Then, he shook his left thigh up and down to make Clelia bounce between his arms. The baby laughed.

I'll never let you fall in Toriad's hands, my darling. I'll protect you, if you are obedient. On the opposite, I'll force you to marry a Toriad, if you are disobedient to my teachings, so that I'll be sure you refuse.

"Hole", Clelia said.

Espio raised his head. In the very middle of the battle field there was a macabre quadrangular wound in Eristoph's belly surrounded by piles of soil and spades.

The horn rumbled even louder in that half empty and silent Arena. The portcullis rattled in the runners and its sound served as funeral march for Racitro's funeral procession. His body was lying on a palanquin borne by four brawny warriors. Though turned pale, Racitro's cheeks were still of a beautiful bronze-like color, further emphasized by the shining tailor-made tunic, deprived of the noble coat of arms and faded to white, not to recall Cilantes' green and gold, colors that Racitro had repudiated. The golden lion was, however, portrayed on Racitro's shield, which had been fastened to his right forearm to hide the mutilation. With the left hand Racitro was holding on his chest the sword partner of many triumphs.

Behind the body, a lot of warriors were marching. Judging by the bare musculature, most of them were novices.

The cortège followed the Arena perimeter and was welcomed by tears and praises. The women welcomed him in a fall of flowers and wraps, according to the tradition he had established.

Once before the royal dais, the palanquin bearers bowed. And so, after so much time, Racitro was forced, against his will, to make that bow that so long he had refused to perform.

A pleasant hot flush spread through Espio's chest. That's the only tribute I wanted you to give me.

"Traitor", Clelia said. Espio nestled her.

After some words of condolences from the prelate, who recalled Racitro's honorable feats, which were the only accomplished inside the Arena walls, Racitro's body was interred in the hole and covered with soil.

And that's my tribute to you, Racitro. You're the only undefeated Champion the Arena ever had in its centuries-old history, and in your small Kingdom you'll lie forever, giving your bless to the ones who will try to emulate your feats pouring out blood and sweat in the dust.

"When will they fight?"

"Now, my little Princess. Now."

### Some further information from the author

About the historical controversies.

The events reported in this novel are an original elaboration of historical events officially documented by the chroniclers of the time along with some folk legends.

Over the entire historical research process the chronicles drawn up by master Tobiarte have been considered as the most trustworthy source of information to define the events occurred at the time of King Espio and his brother Racitro. Nonetheless, given the contradictoriness in Tobiarte's chronicles, the author chose not to rely exclusively on the master's papers.

The most relevant controversy, actually, concerns the circumstances in which Queen Veneramanda was killed. According to Tobiarte, the Queen was killed by Racitro during a tragic incursion in the castle. However, in the master's piece of writing there's no hint about the dynamics in which this accident took place. On the contrary, folk legends claims that King Espio killed Queen Veneramanda in circumstances which are similar to the ones reported in this novel. Taking into account the great passion involving Prince Racitro and Queen Veneramanda, actually often mentioned by Tobiarte himself, and King Espio's craftiness, the author took the liberty of elaborating a different ending which is more connected with the folk legends, which, even if less trustworthy, sound much more likely.

That said, dragging through mud the memory of King Espio rather than the one of Racitro is not the purpose of this author, either for a matter of the author's personal preference, or for lucrative purposes.

### Julius Jamaro, the unknown

This novel is the first piece of writing from Julius Jamaro, a man whose ambition is second only to his haughtiness (please note that there's not a page devoted to acknowledgments).

The original version of this book has been written in Italian, but the pretentious author has decided to make this English translation (I feel something went lost) which certainly made you turn up your nose due to the many imprecisions.

As far as the future goals of this author are concerned, he's arrogant enough to write other historical novels (and, he claims, with a higher dosage of fantasy) taking place in that small piece of Nabucco called Rumianic world. Since the author is unable to provide you with an evaluation of the time he'll need to complete them, he asks you to stay connected for future communications through his carrier pigeon flying among the following strongholds:

Twitter: http://twitter.com/JuliusJamaro

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/HugoFabrice

The author would like to thank you for the time you generously devoted him. Nonetheless, he'll feel honored, if you can devote him some further fleeting minutes to write a comment, of any nature, on the page dedicated to this book on your favorite retailer website.
