The Red Cloak (p. 7)
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | map 7. CAPPEL RODE
Zelmorzi hadn't seen Cappel Rode since the day before, when he fled, red-eyed, from Lira Peigno's -- or rather, Lira Manivali's -- chambers. Now Don Stovir Peigno and Roderichi Manivali, commander of the Monte Peigno Garrison, were looking for him. Though Rode's forces had taken the town and the Captain himself had infiltrated the Citadel, he had neither issued terms of surrender nor ordered the town to be sacked.
On an impulse, Zelmorzi decided to check the temple. Monte Peigno boasted a separate temple for each Goddess. Zelmorzi headed for Isa's. Rode may have sought solace in prayer after the disturbing events yesterday. Over the night, Zelmorzi had accepted the Captain's former relationship with Lira. It explained all of his oddities -- the portrait of Lira in Bochi Orro, the aversion to the Assemblyhouse in Carseli, and his reason for joining the army. The only thing that remained unclear was the apparent pseudonym "Cappel Rode."
Zelmorzi found his captain leaving Isa's temple. Rode's head was hung low, and he wore a rectangle of cheap crimson wool knotted around his neck like a cape.
"Captain!" exclaimed Zelmorzi. "I've ..."
"No," snapped Rode. "Don't call me that. When we entered Vali Coltina, I forsook any right to a title." Rode's voice was thick with self-chastisement "No, it was when I refused to believe Lira's letter."
"Well ... what should I call you?" Rode" sounded awkward without any title, and he didn't feel that he was enough of a friend to call him "Cappel."
"Cappel Rode. That is my name now, before men and the Goddesses. Antegno Bofi ceased to exist when he killed the first Guipesan for Lira's sake." Rode pulled his red cape around himself and continued talking, oblivious to whether anyone was listening. "I thought that the blood that reddened my cloak would show Lira I was more worthy than Stovir. But every drop is a badge of shame in the Goddesses' eyes."
"Well, Cappel Rode, both Don Peigno and Roderichi Manivali await you." Zelmorzi patted Rode's shoulder. "Now take off this thing," he tugged at Rode's makeshift cloak, "And let's go. You have a surrender to accept."
"No." There was sudden firmness in Rode's voice. He pulled away from Zelmorzi. "I will come, because I have to. But I will lie to nobody about what I am. I am Cappel Rode -- the Red Cloak."
Rode and Zelmorzi walked in silence to Don Peigno' s Great Hall.
*** Don Stovir Peigno, dressed in his fmest tunic and bedecked with family jewels, sat next to Roderichi Manivali. Manivali wore a military-cut tabard in Peigno blue and yellow. His only jewelry was a simple gold ring on his finger. Both men looked more noble than any Morsine leader short of Don Dalen Roma. Zelmorzi suspected that the thugs that arsonized his farm were far from representative of the Guipesan Race.
Cappel Rode and Padrin Zelmorzi, still wearing their plain campaign garb, sat down between the more formally attired sergeants Melo and Ferrovente.
"Don Rode, Don Zelmorzi," greeted Don Peigno coolly. He inclined his head to each.
"Don Peigno. Don Maniva1i." Rode returned the greeting.
"I am here to offer our surrender, as your forces have certainly beaten Don Manivali's garrison. But before we discuss tenns, I must advise you of a letter I received by carrier pigeon some weeks ago." Don Peigno handed over a slip of paper folded so as to be borne by a homing pigeon. It read:
With a snap of his wrist, Rode tossed the dispatch back to Don Peigno. "Don Stovir Peigno, I ask that you accept the sun-ender of my battallion." Gapes of outrage registered on the faces of Sergeants Melo and Ferrovente, who had seen neither Don Arneri's message nor Don Roma's earlier one. Don Peigno smiled smugly. "But of course."Don Stovir Peigno,
I am pleased to infonn you that, by the grace of the Goddesses, the Guipesan Alliance accepted the surrender of the Republic of Morsia, this 17th day of June, 1255. More to follow by courier.
General Felipe Ameri.
"No!" The voice belonged to Lira, who sat in a chair to one side, observing. Everyone turned to look at her. She appeared embarrassed, obviously not intending for her sentiment to be voiced aloud.
"Why do you care?" asked Rode, a note of contempt pushing a slight sneer from his face.
"As I recall, you are married to Don Manivali here, a full-blooded Guipesan." Rode gestured to the garrison commander.
"No, Antegno ..."
Rode flinched as if struck. "My name is Cappel Rode," he interrupted, in a voice like steel.
"No, don't you see? I left you for the same reason I offered to pay for you to go to the Art Institute. The same reason I begged Stovir to keep Roderichi's men here, as the Monte Peigno garrison. This whole Guipesan-Morsine thing turns my stomach, and I can't bear it when anyone is hurt by something so stupid. Don't you remember? Guipeso and Morsi were brothers." Lira fixed Rode and her brother with a stare that dared them to justify the war. When they did not respond, she went on in a calmer tone, addressed to Rode. " All your men are war criminals now. If you surrender them to the Federation's justice, it's as good as putting a sword through their hearts."
"Alright, so what should I do?" replied Rode in the same tone one might use to reply to being asked to obtain a steak without butchering a cow.
"I don't know. I wish you could go somewhere where you didn't have to worry about this war." Lira gave a helpless shrug.
Rode took a deep breath and turned back to Don Peigno. Softly he said, "My troops will be out of Monte Peigno within four days. You may write to Don Ameri and tell him what has happened."
*** Cappel Rode normally did not drink much. Zelmorzi guessed that growing up poor in Carseli, he couldn't afford to acquire a taste for liquor. But the trauma of the battles in Monte Peigno demanded some relief. The bartender at the inn where Rode and his sergeants were staying warily handed over the ale purchased by the distraught captain.
The door harp spat out fragmented arpeggios as someone entered the room. Zelmorzi's back was turned, so he didn't see who it was. The footsteps approached the table he shared with Rode.
"Ante ... er, Cappel? I think we need to talk." A glance at the face confirmed the newcomer was Lira.
"Oh really? What about?" Rode's expression was unreadable. Lira sat down next to him, keeping her shawl pulled around her head, despite the summer warmth. "Look, even though I fled to Monte Peigno and married Roderichi doesn't mean I hate you. I don't want to see you beheaded."
"Oh really? Is that what they do to butchers?"
"The courier from Don Ameri arrived just after you left the meeting. He had a whole list of punishments for war criminals."
Rode took a moment to scratch his long, narrow nose thoughtfully, then replied, " It's not your decision what I do. The Goddesses saw every man I killed since I enlisted."
Zelmorzi suddenly realized where he had seen the rough geometric designs of stags and bears that frolicked in the embroidery on Lira's bodice. The style was typical of work from Horth. The abundance of Horthian goods in the Peigno household suggested that Old Don Peigno had had other motives than ruining the Morsines when he proposed relaxing the tariff on Horth.
"Horth." said Zelmorzi.
"Horth?" asked Lira, putting a hand to the embroidery.
"Yes. The Horthians are neither Morsine nor Guipesan. They won't care -- in fact, they won't be able to tell. They'll be so glad that the tariffs lifted they'll think any Peninsula-man is OK."
"I don't care that men hate me," replied Rode, peering into his empty mug. "But every man I killed is a rock on my soul, pulling me away from the Goddesses."
"The Horthians are pagans ... at least they are now ." Zelmorzi wet his lips with ale as Rode and Lira began to grasp his point. Seizing upon an analogy relevant to Rode, he said, "Drawing some crappy pictures doesn't make you a bad artist unless you don't also draw some good ones."
Rode nodded. Lira smiled and said, "The Horthians say 'If a man steals your cow and eats it, you can either kill him and starve, or make him buy you a new cow, and eat."
Rode replied, "That's a nice thought. But a missionary has to be in a pagan land, and Horth' s on the other side of the mountains. I doubt the guards in the passes will just let a battalion of Morsines saunter on through."
Lira's eyes lit up. "There's no guards on the ocean! Do you know where Amar is?"
"Yeah, it's on the west coast," replied Rode. " All by itself."
Lira nodded. "My father had two galleons there. If you cut overland, you might reach Amar before the "Wanted" posters get printed. Then you can sail to Horth."
"Stovir won't let us have those ships, and the crew won't believe us if we lie."
Lira smiled. "Those ships were our wedding present. Roderichi only enlisted because he thought it was his duty. He's a merchant at heart. I can give you one."
Rode squeezed Lira's hand with one of his, and picked up a comer of his homemade cloak with the other. After contemplating the crimson fabric for a moment, he scratched his long, narrow nose and said, "Get me a deed to one of those ships."
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