Lukia 4
Sun filtered through the shutters of the high arched windows along the halls’ south wall. Bored by the proceedings Lukia’s gaze wandered to the rafters, from alcove, to balcony, to gallery, down the huge doors and back along the line of swarthy footmen to the dais.
Count Alfredo de’ Patalone was hearing petitions. Lines of peasants stood outside and a small unruly crowd of merchants and minor citizenry stood at the end of a long finely woven carpet, held in check by three large guards. Lukia recalled watching sheds of women and girls weaving carpets just such as this during her years travelling the east. Once again she wondered why she had returned.
Her hand slipped unconsciously to the long curved blade at her side. “A blade of the east”, she thought “My lifeline”.
This was her third position as bodyguard in three years. Each time she insisted on a twelve month contract and so far she had not been tempted to renew. She stuck it out, after all a contract is a contract. This one was particularly unpleasant.
Alfredo was a bore, a glutton, a tyrant and a deviant with cruel tastes. Too many nights she had been required to stand guard at the door of his chambers and listen to the pitiful cries of the peasant children smuggled up the back stairs after dark. At least he didn’t expect her to deal with the disposals. But..a contract is a contract. Maybe after this she would move up country to Milan, perhaps find a better employer there. One day maybe venture as far as Meersburg. People would surely have forgotten her by now and besides, it no longer mattered that family and long acquaintances turned away as she approached. That ceased to matter when she saddled up her horse and headed though the pass and out to the east.
Something about the woman approaching the dais caught Lukia's attention. She’d missed what the petition was in her musings but the woman was moving too quickly, held her cloak too tight about her, her eyes burned with hate.
“Murderer! Defiler!”
Bursting forward brandishing a long kitchen knife the woman lunged at Alfredo.
Her head fell at the foot of the dais before she reached the steps. Alfredo, white with shock leapt up and squealed in fear. He continued to squeal for several more minutes until, realising the danger was passed stamped down the steps and kicked the head the length of the carpet, splattering the white silk stockings of the footmen with crimson as it went.
“You thould not have killed her”. He lisped in his sickly high voice.
Lukia paused in cleaning her scimitar, incredulous.
“Thse thould have been arrwethted and hanged!”.
From the expressions of the witnesses around the hall more than one citizen would have been happy to see the woman succeed.
“You certainly don’t make my job easy.” thought Lukia. “Still. A contract is a contract. Only four more months.”
Autumn leaves blew around the courtyard as Lukia checked that her horse was still tethered by the door. Striding up the back stairs she let herself in to Alfredo's chamber. He was just finishing dressing with the help of several servants. It was not unusual for Lukia to enter this way, checking the premises for unwanted bodies, so he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until he was dressed, coiffured and powdered.
She went and waited in front of his large elaborately carved leather covered desk, situated just in front of his smaller strong room. This was where he paid his staff - those that merited payment. Finally he sauntered over and squeezed himself into the padded leather and oak high backed chair.
“I believe my twelve months is complete, your Lordship.”
“Indeed, indeed. We are very pleathed with your thervith. Tho much tho that I have dwawn up a new contwact.”
“Do you have my payment to date?”
“Of couwth”. He clicked his fingers and a butler moved towards the strong room. The butler retrieved a silver tray on which a scroll, quill and ink pot and a bag resided, and placed them in front of the minor Count. Lukia lifted the bag and weighed it in her hand.
“Do you with to count it?” asked Alfredo slightly annoyed at her impertinence.
“No, I’m sure it’s correct”, she said tucking it into her belt.
“Then jutht thine the contwact and we’ll be done.”
“I don’t think so. You see, I live by a code of duty and honour. A contract is a contract and I’ve fulfilled my duty so now I think it’s time to satisfy my honour.”
Alfredo's mouth fell open in protest and the scimitar swung swiftly, slicing through, skin and flesh, gristle and bone, leather and horsehair and embedded itself in solid oak. As she dislodged her blade the head toppled onto the desk. She looked round the chamber which was suddenly empty except for the butler. Her steel grey eyes met his vacant blue ones.
“Call his nephew back from exile” she told him and walked down the stairs.
The stairwell and the corridors filled with a voice from the heavens, rising and falling in a lament for small lost souls.
Count Alfredo de’ Patalone was hearing petitions. Lines of peasants stood outside and a small unruly crowd of merchants and minor citizenry stood at the end of a long finely woven carpet, held in check by three large guards. Lukia recalled watching sheds of women and girls weaving carpets just such as this during her years travelling the east. Once again she wondered why she had returned.
Her hand slipped unconsciously to the long curved blade at her side. “A blade of the east”, she thought “My lifeline”.
This was her third position as bodyguard in three years. Each time she insisted on a twelve month contract and so far she had not been tempted to renew. She stuck it out, after all a contract is a contract. This one was particularly unpleasant.
Alfredo was a bore, a glutton, a tyrant and a deviant with cruel tastes. Too many nights she had been required to stand guard at the door of his chambers and listen to the pitiful cries of the peasant children smuggled up the back stairs after dark. At least he didn’t expect her to deal with the disposals. But..a contract is a contract. Maybe after this she would move up country to Milan, perhaps find a better employer there. One day maybe venture as far as Meersburg. People would surely have forgotten her by now and besides, it no longer mattered that family and long acquaintances turned away as she approached. That ceased to matter when she saddled up her horse and headed though the pass and out to the east.
Something about the woman approaching the dais caught Lukia's attention. She’d missed what the petition was in her musings but the woman was moving too quickly, held her cloak too tight about her, her eyes burned with hate.
“Murderer! Defiler!”
Bursting forward brandishing a long kitchen knife the woman lunged at Alfredo.
Her head fell at the foot of the dais before she reached the steps. Alfredo, white with shock leapt up and squealed in fear. He continued to squeal for several more minutes until, realising the danger was passed stamped down the steps and kicked the head the length of the carpet, splattering the white silk stockings of the footmen with crimson as it went.
“You thould not have killed her”. He lisped in his sickly high voice.
Lukia paused in cleaning her scimitar, incredulous.
“Thse thould have been arrwethted and hanged!”.
From the expressions of the witnesses around the hall more than one citizen would have been happy to see the woman succeed.
“You certainly don’t make my job easy.” thought Lukia. “Still. A contract is a contract. Only four more months.”
Autumn leaves blew around the courtyard as Lukia checked that her horse was still tethered by the door. Striding up the back stairs she let herself in to Alfredo's chamber. He was just finishing dressing with the help of several servants. It was not unusual for Lukia to enter this way, checking the premises for unwanted bodies, so he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until he was dressed, coiffured and powdered.
She went and waited in front of his large elaborately carved leather covered desk, situated just in front of his smaller strong room. This was where he paid his staff - those that merited payment. Finally he sauntered over and squeezed himself into the padded leather and oak high backed chair.
“I believe my twelve months is complete, your Lordship.”
“Indeed, indeed. We are very pleathed with your thervith. Tho much tho that I have dwawn up a new contwact.”
“Do you have my payment to date?”
“Of couwth”. He clicked his fingers and a butler moved towards the strong room. The butler retrieved a silver tray on which a scroll, quill and ink pot and a bag resided, and placed them in front of the minor Count. Lukia lifted the bag and weighed it in her hand.
“Do you with to count it?” asked Alfredo slightly annoyed at her impertinence.
“No, I’m sure it’s correct”, she said tucking it into her belt.
“Then jutht thine the contwact and we’ll be done.”
“I don’t think so. You see, I live by a code of duty and honour. A contract is a contract and I’ve fulfilled my duty so now I think it’s time to satisfy my honour.”
Alfredo's mouth fell open in protest and the scimitar swung swiftly, slicing through, skin and flesh, gristle and bone, leather and horsehair and embedded itself in solid oak. As she dislodged her blade the head toppled onto the desk. She looked round the chamber which was suddenly empty except for the butler. Her steel grey eyes met his vacant blue ones.
“Call his nephew back from exile” she told him and walked down the stairs.
The stairwell and the corridors filled with a voice from the heavens, rising and falling in a lament for small lost souls.