The Master of Verona

"The only authority I have," said Cangrande tranquilly, "was given me by Emperor Heinrich, and what good is the favour of a dead man? So Ponzino de' Ponzoni, from all evidence a decent though uninspired soldier, knows I am worried about the safety of the Vicentine garrison. In the throes of that fear, I might do something foolish, like riding out alone and unarmed to the defense of an invested city."

"My lord," observed Antonio, "that's what you did."

"Ridiculous. I had you three. So I arrive, and what do I see?"

Again Pietro looked towards the city gates. There was a stone bridge, pre-Roman by its decrepit appearance. It crossed a deep dip in the land that had probably once been used as a moat but had since dried up. Around the bridge there was nothing but grassy slopes slowly changing colour as the season dictated. Not even a bird stirred. "Nothing."

"Exactly! Not a thing! An open field for me to ride across and devour the chicken. How wonderful!" Cangrande pulled a comic frown. "Only I am a little disturbed. As a child I was forced to recite my Gallic Wars, my Vegetius, even my Homer. I know the importance of surrounding an invested city. It prevents reinforcements from strengthening the will of those unfortunates besieged. It's the basic principle that Caesar used so brilliantly at Alesia. Now, if I have read these works, I know that my worthy opponent the Podestà of Padua has read them as well. I wonder how he could have forgotten so basic a lesson? But he must have! For I see no troops! The hen house is open and ripe for pillaging." He gestured to the open expanse of land between them and the gates.

Pietro nodded. "Where are they?"

"Under the bridge," answered Cangrande with a bored sigh, "and possibly in the ravine further north. If he had any brains, he'd have put a thin line of men in the open. Then I might have raced for the far gates in the hope of outrunning the guards. At that moment the hidden soldiers could have leapt out and slaughtered me." He sighed in evident disappointment. "Upon reflection, I would wager it was Vanni who set it up. One thing is for certain, though: Bonifacio is not handling the details. That's excellent news. It means they're poorly organized and not making use of the wiser heads among them." He grinned at the trio as they drank in his every word. "Someday I'll meet an equal, and then you'll see some fireworks, boys." Then, mock-mournfully, he added, "But so far, it hasn't happened."

"So what do we do?" asked Antony. "Just sit here?"

"I think we can make it," opined Mariotto. "We know where they are. With luck, we can be past them and to the gates before they ride out from their bridge."

Cangrande shook his head, "Though I always like to have it, I never expect luck to side with me. Too often she's a fickle bitch. And though you're right, we might make it past them, they could still raise an alarum, and I don't want Asdente and the Count to know I'm here. Yet."

Antony practically spat. "So we do nothing?"

"We remind Asdente of a fact he seems to have forgotten."

"And that is?"

The Capitano's blue eyes twinkled. "I am not the fox in this drama. I am the hound."

"The Great Hound," supplied Mariotto.

"The Greyhound," said Pietro.

The Scaliger's blue eyes fixed on Pietro coldly. Flustered, young Alaghieri braced himself for a rebuke. Before it was delivered, however, Cangrande cocked an ear. "How now? What noise is this?" Behind them, the Illasi garrison was arriving. "Not bad time for horses so heavily laden. Now, I'm going to have a word with my commander and then, because you've been so patient, I'll take you with me on a little constitutional."

He cantered away, leaving Pietro wondering what he'd said. For the first time in their brief acquiantance, the Greyhound had seemed genuinely angry. The chill from those blue eyes still clung to Pietro's skin. I called him the Greyhound. But isn't that his title?

The beast was on all his banners. Pietro's own father had referred to him as such over and over again. Why, then, had his eyes blazed at the mention of it?

Whatever it was, Mariotto had missed it. "Constitutional?"

Antony rubbed his huge hands together. "I'll say this — he isn't boring!"

Pietro squinted out at where Cangrande had said the enemy would be waiting in ambush. At first he saw only the vague multicoloured shapes that danced inside his eyes. He blinked them away and tried again. For several seconds he saw nothing at all. Then a shadow under the bridge shifted. Pietro didn't think it was a trick of the light. The Capitano had been prescient. There were mounted knights under the bridge, waiting.

So focused on the spot under the bridge, Pietro didn't notice Cangrande's return, and jumped when he heard the Scaliger say, "Shall we take their bait, signores?" Without waiting for a reply the Scaliger spurred ahead out of the treeline and down the hill. Antony and Mariotto followed on either side, and Pietro quickly followed.