Unforgivable Page 13

  The guard’s eyes bugled in sudden terror, his sword quickly forgotten, as both his hands clutched at his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood. He stepped forward and grabbed for Sofia. Whether a last attempt to arrest her or a futile effort for help, she would never know.

  Sofia caught movement to the side of Zindelo and saw another uniform approaching. Her blades came free as she stepped in - a loud sound rang out as her blades intercepted a killing blow. Zindelo spun around his blade slammed into the guard’s midsection but his hard leather armour deflected the blow harmlessly to the side.

  Sofia stepped back, but the new guard pressed forward eagerly, stabbing for her chest. Zindelo’s knife slashed up, cutting deeply in the guard’s forearm and his sword fell to the cobblestone. The guard quickly recoiled but Sofia was on him. Her blade arced for his throat but the guard tilted his head and her curved dagger tore through his jaw and cheekbone instead.

  Zindelo grabbed her arm and began hauling her through the gathering crowd, seeing more guards moving in. “Come on! We must go - we cannot win this!” He called back to her, pulling her through the throng of people who were quickly realizing something dramatic had just taken place.

  Finally they came to a stop against a stone wall just outside Fiddler’s Market and caught their breath. They had gone a long distance from where the guard had been killed. The streets were packed with people, making their trail near impossible to follow.

  “One down,” Zindelo said wiping the fresh blood from his dagger onto his dark woollen leggings, “cocky bastard confronting you like that, in the open.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” Sofia lied, her mind reeling at what the guard had been implying.

  “What about the other guard - was he the other one?”

  Sofia almost said yes, but caught herself, that would be too easy, too convenient to be truth. “No, never saw the other one before.”

  “A pity.”

  “Zindelo what are you doing here?” A familiar voice growled as a dark, cloaked figure came and stop beside them, “with the likes of her no less?” Talamar quickly noticed the blood splattered across Sofia’s fair features. “What have you two fools done?” He turned his glare back on Zindelo.

  “One of Boldo’s killers has been brought to justice, Uncle.” Zindelo replied proudly.

  “You dimwitted fool!” Talamar barked, trying his best to keep his voice down. “I told you not to act without my consent.”

  “I will not just sit by well my brother’s killers are-”

  Zindelo was cut short as Talamar’s hand struck him hard across the face. “You’re a half-wit! I had no intention of letting Boldo’s death go in vain! Who did you kill?”

  “One of the guards that was with Morris.” He confessed, the pride in his deed faltering.

  Talamar turned a fierce eye on Sofia. “I thought I made myself clear to you outsider. This has nothing to do with you!”

  “I went to her for help uncle, it’s not her fault.” Zindelo cut in quickly. A loud, terrified scream rippled through Fiddler’s Market and all eyes turned towards the stirring commotion.

  “It has started.” Talamar whispered, his attention completely diverted.

  The crowd quickly parted, as two well adorned merchants pushed their way through franticly. An arrow exploded through ones chest, his lime green tunic hastily turning scarlet as he collapsed to his knees in dismay. His trembling hands awkwardly fidgeted with the arrowhead that protruded from his torso. The second merchant turned to see his comrade had fallen and was doomed to his fate. He continued to run, the thick arm of an imposing gypsy snapped out from the crowd and tightened around his throat. The merchant kicked and flailed helplessly, as the giant gypsy lifted him easily off his feet with one arm. The merchant tried to stutter out something, but it quickly became incoherent as a knife sank into his guts. The gypsy grinned maliciously, slowly pulling the steel across the merchant’s midsection. Blood poured freely from the deep wound - the man’s face twisted in agony, but his screams were muffled by the tight grip around his throat. The blade finished its course and the gypsy pressed his meaty hand within the gaping laceration, pulling out a handful of gore slicked bowels. He held his dripping prize up for his victim to witness.

  “This is what you get when you forget your place in our food chain!” The massive gypsy pushed his hand into the merchant’s mouth. He forced the carnage down as far as it would go, choking him on his own innards. The gypsy dropped the limp man to the stone and sneered at the gathering crowd.

  “Come on, we have to go! The guards are coming!” Another gypsy cried out, throwing his bow over his shoulder as they both disappeared through the frantic throng of people. Leaving the scene of butchery behind for those who would remember it as the warning it was.

  “By the vengeful gods!” Zindelo gasped out in shock at the brutal display he had just witnessed.

  Talamar turned back to Zindelo. “I told you I had no intention of letting your brother’s death go unanswered.”

  “Over here!” A cry went out to the coming guards. “There are more gypsies over here!” Soon eyes were turned upon them; gasps, mummers and curses were thrown at them from nearly every mouth within range.

  “Unless we want to find ourselves in the gallows I suggest we get moving.” Talamar said taking off through the sea of angry people.

  “You gypsy filth!” A deranged man in the crowd bellowed charging Talamar a short sword in hand.

  Talamar barely avoided the random attack - he stumbled and crashed into the stone wall. The attacker lunged in again for the easy kill. A curved blade arced down severing through the attacker’s sword arm. The man howled out in surprise as he stared down at the stump as another curved blade slid up between his ribs through his heart.

  “Get up!” Sofia grabbed Talamar’s arm and hauled him to his feet, her cold green eyes scanning the crowd for another foolish attack.

  The trio slowed to a stop once they were back safely within the boundaries of Gypsy Alley. Zindelo stumbled up against the side of a building to catch his breath, while Sofia massaged the knotted, agonizing muscles in her leg, through gritted teeth.

  Talamar’s moved his hand from his side - it was slick with blood, his blood.

  Zindelo gasped. “Uncle, you are injured.”

  Talamar waved his hand. “It is nothing but a minor scratch,” he looked over to Sofia, “I was going to kill you for involving yourself in gypsy business, but now,” he paused. “I am now at an impasse, since you saved my life.”

  Unforgivable II

  Part Seven

  Disruption of the Silence

  “This is unacceptable!” King Delafon howled out, to the three men who stood uneasily before him. He grabbed his crystal goblet from his desk with more force than he had intended - several fat, scarlet droplets spilled over the rim and soaked into his white silken leggings. His face nearly turned the colour of the fresh stain. He threw it, the goblet shattering against the white wall. The red wine sprayed the wall and began running down like thick drops of blood - much like the blood that had been spilled within the streets of his city that very morning. His own men’s blood. He cared little for the men who had been killed - what he cared about were the implications.

  A silent war between the Merchant’s Guild and the Gypsies had been an undercurrent within Delmar for well over a decade now. Mostly stolen merchandise or payment, fist fights, vandalism and the occasional nocturnal murder would occur. Nothing he had to concern himself with - his guards kept things running smoothly, which kept things out of the public’s eye and from escalating. But now things had escalated - royal guards had been killed openly and two merchants had been executed publicly within Fiddler’s Market. Rumours and accusations were spreading through Delmar City like wild fire.

  King Delafon ran his hand through his lengthy, silver-blond hair, pinning several escaped strands back behind his sagging ear. He had turned fifty only a month before and had never really felt his age - he
felt the weight of those years today.

  He looked back to the three officers standing nervously before him, awaiting orders. The tall, proud Gerard - his loyal Captain of Guard - who had brought him this atrocious news, after one of his men had been reported killed and another whose face had been half torn off and was unlikely to survive the night. Then there was Montagu, his Chief Steward. The short, awkwardly proportioned hawk-nosed man reminded him of a poorly crafted marionette, yet his mind was sharp and he kept much of Delmar City and Castle running smoothly and profitably. But most of all he was trustworthy to his last drop of blood. He had tested Montagu secretly on several occasions and was always pleased by the unwavering loyalty. Finally, there was Stefan - the new head of City Council - a young, eagerly ambitious man who had quickly been appointed into office after his father’s unexpected death. Delafon grin inwardly…unexpected to some that was. He cared little for the City Council, but knew they had their use as voice of the people. If he could corrupt Stefan to his web, he would have even more power and control.

  “Well don’t just stand there!” King Delafon barked. “What are your thoughts on this ghastly matter?” He was not surprised to see Stefan stepped forward first, eager to prove himself to his king.

  “Rumours and stories are filling every ear, from nearly every mouth, my great King.” Stefan started. “There has always been gossip of what goes on between the Merchant’s Guild and the gypsies. But both sides have always been wise enough to keep it within reason and restraint. Neither have ever considered making extreme moves and becoming public spectacles. The displays this morning against both your royal guards and the Merchant’s Guild have nearly the whole city in fear of what is to come next. Many believe the gypsies would not have acted with such indiscretions unless they no longer had reason to fear...” he paused as if considering his words carefully, “the strength of the Crown. Others think this is a direct grab for power. The gypsy population has grown considerably over the last several years and their territory within the city has developed well beyond what was given to them. It has long been a dispute that the gypsies want a section of Fiddler’s Market for their own shops and booths. But since that section of the city is privately owned by the Merchant’s Guild, it is under their jurisdiction. Many believe this is their way of invoking enough fear to force you into a position where you overrule law of ownership and allow them a section of the market.”

  “I would do no such thing for the likes of gypsies!” King Delafon snarled resentfully. “Filthy swine, the lot of them.”

  Stefan bowed his head in understanding. “There is also much fear in what the Merchant’s Guild might do in retaliation.”

  “I thank you for your insight on what the citizens are ‘thinking’.” Delafon said. He did not like what the man had to say, but he couldn’t ignore the importance of what it implied. “I would ask that you tell the good citizens of Delmar they needn’t worry. I believe this to be a separate incident one, that will be dealt with quickly and firmly, I assure you. I shall also be sending word to the Guild - informing them of the strict penalties that will follow, if they retaliate in any way.”

  Stefan nodded his head. “I will tell the good people my King, and I pray you are accurate in your believe.”

  Delafon sneered as the young man left the room, at least he was easier to manipulate than his father had been. “Captain, have the gypsy culprits been apprehended?” Delafon asked his sharp eyes turning to Gerard.

  “No, my King.” Gerard replied tensely. “As Stefan said, the people are afraid of what may come and most are unwilling to give forth useful information out of fear of repercussions from the gypsies.”

  “They fear repercussions from gypsies and not their King?” Delafon asked his voice seething with anger. “What is wrong with this Captain? Have we so easily lost the respect of the people due to our lenience?”

  “I fear it may be so, my King.”

  “Well, I suggest we reinstall that lost respect and quickly!” Delafon screamed. “Anyone suspected of withholding information is to be sentenced to the gallows!” The king calmed himself for a moment. “That should loosen some tongues.”

  “Yes my King, it shall be done.” Gerald knew better than to question the King when he was in such a mood, lest he find himself among those upon the rope. “There was also a woman who was noticed by the guards. It is said she was in cahoots with the gypsies this morning.” Delafon rolled his eyes at the seemingly pointless remark. “I am sorry my King I should have elaborated. The woman observed was not a gypsy - my men reported she is new to the city. She arrived with a wagon of bodies and claimed highwaymen killed them. She further claimed that she, in turn, killed the highwaymen. But when the area in question was searched nothing matching her assertions were found. It seems likely that she killed the people. My men were in the process of searching for her, to question her, when this all occurred.”

  “This seems of little interested to me Captain - if she is working with the gypsies I want her found and her neck in a rope.”

  “Yes my King.”

  “Montagu what is your take on all that has occurred this day?” Delafon pressed.

  Montagu stepped forward, his nerve like steel. “My King, I fear this situation may turn out to be far more dangerous and complex. There are so many variables involved - the city has become unpredictable with this one set of events. I cannot predict what may come, but I can offer guesses.” His voice was clear, but his hands - behind his back - were trembling.

  “What do you mean?” Delafon asked, a frown creasing his face.

  “As you well know King Leonardo has been massing his army near the border. He claims it is for training purposes but we both know he harbours great resentment towards you, for crushing most of his trades overseas with our own. He undoubtedly has ears within our walls. If he hears of such discord, he might take that as his opportunity to attack. We could be facing full scale war” Montagu answered calmly.

  The King’s face flushed crimson. “He wouldn’t dare! My army is nearly twice his own.”

  “But our army is still spread out. News of their return to Delmar will have likely only reached most of our large settlements. It will be weeks before our army is massed together. King Leonardo’s army is little more than four days march from our doorsteps.”

  King Delafon reached for his wine glass - he cursed under his breath as he remembered what had happened to it. “It matters little - Delmar is undefeatable. Our walls cannot be breeched, and can easily be defended with the reserves we have within the area.”

  “All true, but you are not seeing the snake in the grass, my King. If this unease between the gypsies and Merchant’s Guild is not quickly put to rest within our own walls by our stern hand, and threat of war becomes common knowledge.” Montagu paused, letting his sink in.

  “By the gods,” Captain Gerard muttered, “civil war may break out. Then we will be fighting a war on both sides of our walls.”

  “Were this to occur my King, we would collapse from within.”

  Delafon’s face went ashen, as he stumbled back a step - his hand quickly steadied himself on his desk. “This cannot be allowed to occur.” He mumbled. “What can we do to stop this?”

  “We must lock the city down.” Both Montagu and Gerard replied together.

  “What?” Delafon asked perplexed.

  “We need to lock down the city, my King. No news can be allowed to leak to our enemies.” Montagu replied quickly. “The gates must be closed - no one can be allowed to enter or leave, no matter what, not until we have things within our city back under our full control.”

  King Delafon’s gaze was bitter cold as he paced the room. “I want it done this very night!”

  “Yes my King.” Both Montagu and Gerald replied.

  “And Captain.” Delafon called out before they could leave the room. “I want these gypsies found and dealt with publicly. If they will not hand them over, you are to go and find them. I don’t care if you have to bu
rn Gypsy Alley to the ground - I want them found!”

  “Yes my King, I understand.”

  “It’s the middle of the night what do you want?” A half asleep man asked, as he opened the door to his house, still in his sleepwear.

  “What do you know about what happened this morning within Fiddler’s Market?” An armoured soldier asked, his tone void of emotion.

  “What?” The man stammered, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I already told you all I know.”

  “I will ask you once more.” The soldier said sternly. “What more do you know? Who were the gypsies involved?”

  “I can tell you nothing more, I’m sorry. I have my family to think about.” The man replied closing his door. An iron gauntleted hand shoved the door open and forced the man back. “What are you doing?” The man cried out, sleep evaporating in the squeak of the hinges.

  “You are hereby under arrest for treason to the throne.” The soldier barked back, as two more soldiers entered the house with iron shackles.

  “What?” The man stammered. “I have committed no such crimes.”

  “By withholding information of this morning’s transgressions, you have indeed committed the act of treason. Bind him tightly and bring him to the gallows with the others.”

  “Have mercy!” The man cried out. “What of my family? They will starve without me!”

  The guard eyes were steel. “You should have thought of that before. Get him out of here.”

  Unforgivable II

  Part Eight

  Lock Down

  “Wake up outsider.”

  Sofia’s eyes opened and her hands searched for the smooth bone handles of her twin blades under the dusty blanket. It took her several moments to recall her surroundings - she was not within her room above the tavern but in Talamar’s house, in the heart of Gypsy Alley. When she saw Talamar, she relaxed but only slightly, as she climbed off the hard cot. “What is it now?”