Knight Mist: Episode 2

By Stevil Strange

Snipe made a quick swerve to the left and my head banged against the door of the cab. I sat up because at least that way I would be able to hold on to the O.S. handle above the door.

The traffic on the bridge was very congested and soon the chase had slowed to a crawl.

"Damn it!" Snipe said, " Traffic was never like this in ‘Bullitt’."

"Yeah, but Steve McQueen didn’t drive a mini-truck that was three different colors." I commented.

I have had a few ‘incidents’ in my truck. The cab is silver, the bed is green and the tail gate is brown. It ain’t pretty and it’s 14 years old, but it’s paid for, runs good and gets great gas mileage.

We inched along with the traffic and Snipe finally calmed down a bit.

After a few minutes I spoke. "It’s your own fault you know."

"How’s that?" He asked.

"We didn’t have to come this way. We could have come up 101 and missed this bridge entirely."

"But.."

"But nothing. You know how I feel about bridges and you came this way because you are the ‘Anti-Christ.’"

"I’m driving so I get to pick the route."

"I coulda drove."

"Yeah, right."

"Well I coulda."

"So how did your truck get to be three different colors?"

"That.."

"I rest my case."

"You’re still the Anti-Christ."

I looked at my watch. It was just a little before 9 am. At 10 we were supposed to meet our friend Trey at "Misdirection’s", a magic shop that is just few blocks away from Golden Gate Park.

Trey is a performer at fair also. His moniker is ‘The Professional Showoff’ and although his faire shows consists mostly of stunts, fire and a bit of juggling, he is also a fine magician.

The traffic finally let up and we entered San Francisco. The city by the bay has a lot of hills, and a lot of stop lights on those hills. My truck unfortunately has a standard transmission. Which means it rolls backwards a bit on those up hill stops.

Snipe was beginning to get peeved again because people were getting right on our tail at the lights.

"I wish they wouldn’t do that." Snipe growled.

"So we roll backward and hit em, big whoop. The truck is three different colors. Do you think I give a crap.?" I stated.

After that Snipe just smiled at each stop light, "That’s it. Come a little closer."

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who you were rooting for, we had no accidents and eventually arrived in the Park area.

The traffic thinned to nearly nothing as we made our way to the Magic shop. Once there we found a parking spot, fed the meter, and walked across the street to ‘Misdirection’s’.

Trey was standing out front. He was wearing black jeans, a white long sleeve shirt and had a whip tied around his waste for a belt.

I already knew the answer but I had to ask anyway, "What’s with the belt?"

Trey just gave a big smile and answered, "Because whips are cool."

We hugged each other in greeting, because that’s what Rennies do, then proceed to enter the shop.

Trey pushed the door but it wouldn’t budge. "Huh, that’s funny. He’s always open on Fridays."

I checked my watch and saw that it was well past 10.

We peered through the windows to see if anyone was inside and it was at this time that we noticed all the garlic.

Knight Mist: Episode 1

By Stevil Strange

"What are you doing?" Snipe asked with an annoyed voice.

I continued to act like I was looking for something on the floor board of the truck.

"Nothing’" I answered.

"Yes you are. What’s up?" He asked.

I reached under my seat hoping against hope that I would find something that had been kicked under it to give my excuse some credence. Bent forward with my head between my knees I was unable to see out the windows.

My name is Steve. I am a magician. Not a cool Merlin or Gandalf magician, but more of a pull a rabbit out of a hat magician. I am one half of the comedy magic duo of "Myth & Magic."

The other half of the duo, Pat ‘Snipe’ Reule was driving the truck.

We were on our way to Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. We were scheduled to perform at a Renaissance Faire that weekend.

Right now Snipe was driving the truck over the Oakland Bay Bridge. I could hear the thump thump thump of the tires on the bridge. I could feel the vibrations through the seat and the sides of the cab. I could feel sweat appearing on my forehead and the palms of my hands begin to moistening. I could feel my testicles sucking up into my body.

"Wow," Snipe said, "Look at the ocean way down there. How far up do you think we are?"

"I have no idea." I said as I continued to ‘fake’ looking for something. You see, I don’t know why, but I have a terrible fear of high bridges. High bridges over water. Well, that’s just a double header of terror as far as I am concerned.

"Did you ever see the video of the last big quake when parts of this bridge fell?" Snipe continued his ribbing.

I knew, he knew about my phobia, "Kiss my.."

"Asshole !" Snipe yelled at the driver of a Prius that cut us off.

Snipe swerved to avoid an accident as he did, my head smacked against the glove compartment door.

"Ouch!" I shouted as I rubbed my head.

Snipe honked the horn at the Prius. The driver of the Prius waved back in reply, but only used his middle finger.

"It’s on now." Snipe said under his breath and hit the gas.

Oh great, I thought to myself, I’m on a high bridge, way up over water and I’m in a car chase. What else could possibly go wrong this weekend.

Cherubino was right behind me.

That was the only thought going through my head, as my head went through the window, the rest of me following shortly. It was like watching myself fall at half speed. If circumstances were different, I might almost say it was graceful. The landing was everything but unfortunately. The first thing to connect with the ground was definitely my head. From there everything was a bit jumbled, I remember waking where I fell, and pondered why I couldn’t breathe.

I thought about the cobblestones, I thought about the lady inside the bar, I thought about Romina back at the embassy, and how my indiscretions didn’t even make her blush anymore. I thought about the meaning of the words I had just insulted my assailant with, and I thought about why the damn thing was called an aubergine. As my thoughts ran wild, my original thought proved accurate as Cherubino followed my fall with a slight hop to get over the window sill, his fall less graceful, his landing less painful. I rolled over to see a spot of bright red on the brown and wet stone of the street. I felt my forehead to find myself bleeding from my right temple as well. All in all, not a good start to the evening. My head fell back as he lifted me to my feet. I limply punched over his shoulder as he spoke. “Are you alright Don Angelo?” Something about what he said sounded like it was underwater to me.

“Ho visto che lei avendo il sesso con un maiale!”

The only response in me was the insult I had previously laid upon the villain at the bar. Before Cherubino could wonder who I saw fornicating with a swine Tuesday last, he started to move up the street in the direction of home, as the locals seemed wise to our ruse. It might have been the part where we started speaking Italian. Fine. I started speaking Italian.
For the last few weeks, Cherubino and I have been taking in some of the more unsightly sights the city has to offer, finding a tavern in the late afternoon where we can find a drink and perhaps a bit of sport. The embassy guard never pays much attention to a detail leaving to run errands, and they certainly don’t check to make sure we’re not among our squires and attendants as we leave.
We’re roughly ten blocks from the embassy when we hear the group of men following us. Cherubino mumbles something about being in trouble, but somewhere between his lips and my brain things start getting unclear, I pretend to walk as he drags me up the street. One of the attendants happens to see us as she’s walking home. I can only make out two of the words he says to her, “Run” and “Men.” She sprints towards the embassy; the ground hits me in the head again. Cherubino curses sharply.

Somehow I’m back in the Tavern, watching everything as it happened, like a dream with a hangover. I went though the events like a shipping manifest. Cherubino was sitting a few feet from me, talking to an English hunter about his blunderbuss. A man grabbed the arm of my evenings company, I insulted him, he approached me, I hit him hard in the right hand with my tankard, just like Don Ricardo had shown me, I turned to face the girl, and then I saw the table flying towards me. The table? The TABLE. but who hit me with the table? Now I remember it all as I wake upon Cherubino’s shoulder, from the look of things, it’s only been a few moments, as it appears I left a dry spot on the ground a few yards back.
Cherubino is a strong man. No one can contest this, it’s apparent in practice and appearance, but with a full grown man on his back, the best he can manage is a brisk walk. While the mob behind us is pathetic, a single man against 20 is still a grim certainty. I hear shouts in the distance. Cherubino starts to pray. We must be in trouble.

Luigi stands watch on the gate as dusk falls, like he does every evening. If he could, he would stand watch around the clock while we’re in England, damning both sleep and sustenance. Though he is depended upon as an incredible diplomat, he’s seen enough of the tendencies of men to be wary, especially in the heart of another man’s country. The usual dichotomy graces his hands, with a rosary, and a loaded pistol. Another sits at the small of his back, and another on the gate wall in front of him, though there are 30 men below that can be ready at a moment, he finds comfort in his preparation. Its almost as if the repetition that has begun to wear on some of his men over the years gives him focus. Don Ricardo organizes the escort details, Don Luigi handles the embassy guard. Its been this way for years, and its proven an effective division of labor. His men have even invented a motto for the embassy guard, “Advancing guns make pikemen run.” Luigi laughs to himself as he wonders if there’s some reciprocate insult from the Roncone’ line. He yawns, and begins to contemplate his bed, and the next mornings duties, as he sees a single figure in the dark moving up the street. He squints to see if its some trick of the light, but surely, there is a someone moving down below. As she clears into the moonlight, he can see she’s wearing the gray silk of Donna Christiana’s Household, and she’s running scared.

As Lunetta Ran up the street, she thought only of two things, the information she had gathered for Donna Christiana, and Cherubino’s words.

“Angelo is badly hurt, go get the men, Run girl.”

As she ran she began to regret having the Castellena tie her bodice so tight, as the ten blocks to the embassy seemed to stretch on, but the purpose she sought out on called for appearances. with dusk falling, and activity at home winding down, her heart sank as she approached the embassy gate, as not a body seemed to stir. Still, her confinement and her deportment kept her from crying out as she found herself at the gate to her home, both glad and afraid at the same time.

†
Luigi saw Lunetta approach, and leaned over the wall to see his Corporale standing, Arquebuss in hand, peering through the gate.

“Tomasso?” Luigi half asked, knowing the likely response from the trusted friend.

“I see her.” Tomasso replied as he pulled the bolt from the gate and swung it open.
Lunetta fell against him, out of breath, obviously disturbed. Tomasso called the Castellena forth to assist her, as a breathless messenger was a hindrance, and a soldier untying a lady in waitings’ bodice was beyond improper. While he helped her to the ground, she had enough breath in her to tell them of the evening’s misfortunes as she leaned against him.

“Don Angelo was badly hurt, Cherubino was carrying him and being chased by a mob.”

As she turned, curling up in his arms to find relief from her pained waist, Luigi appeared in front of them. Tomasso simply looked at him, and a roar began to rise in the Capitano.

“BANDE NERE! ORDINE SUO ARQUBUGGIO! LUCIANO QUI ADESSO!”

The Castellena arrived and took to Lunetta’s aid, as she had a pair of attendants help her to her chambers; she had time to catch a glance of need from Luigi, and approached him. “What weight can I lift from you Seniore?”

As Tomasso barked orders to men, forming lines, and apprising his men of the situation, Luigi spoke softly to Donna Dorothea, as it was a matter he feared to think.

“Find the Padre, Find the Dottore. We may bury friends tonight.”

†
Luciano awoke as always, with the shout of his name, but this time confused him, Don Luigi had rarely called upon him for he knew his squire had been quite ill the last two weeks time. This could only be something serious, so Lupo took literal pains to prepare and dress himself.

As he appeared from his doorway in his normal attire, he surveyed a good deal of action for this time in the evening. Men prepared powder charges and inspected lead balls, the Castellena was about, and while that was not unusual, her demeanor depicted a sense of dangerous urgency, truly there was no courtesy in her at this moment, as she was pushing people out of her way to get where she was going. Luciano found his knight, who was distraught as well, and took a deep breath before asking the most important question.
“I am here Don Luigi, What is happening?”
“Italia is not safe Luciano.” Luigi replied. “I’ve sealed the embassy for the moment, and we are accounting for everyone. We cannot send anyone outside the wall without significant risk, but I need you to do something. There are two men out there, I need you to ride out and bring them home.”

Luciano looked down the street and saw the men, maybe 4 blocks away now, the mob behind them growing, one of the men waved a Cinquedea at the crowd following them.

The men of the bande nere were silent, standing in two files, guns at the ready. From the side gate there was the sound of hooves on stone, as two horses and a single unarmed rider set off at a gallop down the street. The mob seemed to pause, as if to study this insane action unfolding before them. On horseback the ground seemed to take mere seconds to cover, as Luciano approached the two men, he took a moment to absorb the gravity of the situation, Cerebino pushed as Luciano pulled Don Angelo up and across the front of his saddle. The men chasing them seemed to realize they were escaping just as Cerebino mounted the second Castilian, and the two took off at a gallop to head for home, chased by angry screams of protestation.

Luciano expertly maneuvered his horse through the side gate, Cherebino right behind him. The gate closed, and they both sighed in relief.

The Mob approached the main gate, bold even at the sight of 30 armed soldiers. they held their distance except for a single man, the towns’ resident smith, who presented himself and claimed to have shod the king’s horses.

“This disturbance of the peace is unacceptable, we are here to claim your men, and you will hand them over to us.”

Luigi responded, rather indignantly.
“You have stated a single true fact. They are my men, however, I must contest that you are in fact not here to claim them, and we will not hand them over to you, one of them is severely injured, and will be tended to by a doctor, if you have concerns, speak to your nobles, and we will come to an accord.”

The smith demanded retribution. “That is unacceptable, if you do not hand them over to us, we will come in and take them from you.”

The smith’s response reddened Tomassos’ cheeks, but Luigi’s actions were smooth and cold as he raised his pistol to the mans’ head.
“Signiore, let me be clear, if you are blessed enough to set foot on Italian soil this day, you will do so without a brain. There are ways to resolve these things, civilized ways, you should go find one, as I have just run out. Present Arquebuss.”

As if it were a ballet, the 30 men in the Swedish salve aimed their guns at the crowd, it took less than a minute for the crowd to disperse and head to their homes, taverns, and inn’s. Luigi posted a ten man watch just in case, relieved Luciano, who seemed truly relieved at the thought of his bed, And set a rotation with an officer as well, the Dottore would soon see to Angelo, but that was beyond his responsibility.

Luigi was almost surprised to see that the sun had completely set on the city, he knew he had engagements that evening that required his presence, so he had one last order for Tomasso before retiring. “No more excursions tonight, and no more after dark till I discuss this with Don Giovanni.”

Tomasso responded agreeably.
“Si Signore, Buona Serra.”