The Free Company and the Spanish Gold

Ivan took the dagger, thanked the man and said

"I am Ivan Kaminski, I come from Volokolamsk in Russia. I am Streltsi, or at least was. You know Streltsi, we are the select, the finest, 1000 Musketeers the elite of the Princes forces."

Ivan cut the orange open and tasted the sweet flesh inside, it tasted far better than the bitter outer skin and Ivan took another bite.

Noticing the curiosity of Rodriguez Ivan continued

"This axe is my best friend, it has saved my life on more than one occcasion. The blade is finest steel and the handle of finest oak cut to just the right length for me to rest my musket on. It is normal for Streltsi to carry such an axe, how do you carry the weight of your musket?"

July 24, 1565

"Yer full of it, Gunshy, you only put down five!" The Welsh gunner copped an angry and hurt tone of voice. He grinned to himself as his commander backed down, and fingered the three denarii he'd palmed and replaced with worthless slugs. Well, no matter what happens, I break even, he thought happily.

He looked at the small crowd. Ranger with a bandaged eye, that senior cavalry man, Gunshy, a few others. Nikola ran up with the bad news, setting Gunshy off on a new round of profanity. "Don't worry yourself, Gunshy, the powder'll be soaked. We'll just make some more. Buy one of these tubs, burn it to charcoal, and add the right stuff for a bang. Won't be ground so fine, but since our ladies will be spitting chunks o' stone and iron at the Turk, and not his walls, won't hardly matter."

As he turned back, the little bird leapt forward, pushing the big one back, and tearing at its belly. Suddenly, a small greasy ropy thing spilled from the big one's gut. "That's it, little gwylan," he shouted, "now grab his guts and pull 'em out!" He realized, distantly, that some speech or the other was going on near the prow, but he shut it out. He, like every man here, had heard it before; long odds, good pay, best in the world, same crap from a different mouth.

Suddenly One-Eye decided he had had enough. He leapt skyward, trailing a bit of blood, and set off toward the horizon. "Aha, you cowardly giant, fly, fly," Llywarch sang. He looked at the others. The ranger looked downcast, the cavalry man angry, Gunshy happy for a moment. "Let that be a lesson, my gwirionyn, never bet against the little guys - we want it more. And never bet on the cripple - he's made a mistake before, he'll make it again!"

The gunner swept the coins off the barrel and started paying out the winners, making sure the big winners (and Gunshy) ended up with a slug. "It's a good omen, it is, though. The Turks the big one-eyed bastard, blind because he's godless, and we're the scrappy little guy that's going to win!"

July 24, 1565 – The Mediterranean: Somewhere East of Malta - the Infantry meeting

Diego didn’t comment much on the officers meeting, he was still uncertain to his place, except he knew he would command at least one formation of musketeers. He and his men had joined the company late when their tour with Alva’s Lombardian Tercio was up and the chance of a richer pay with the famous Free Company to great a chance to pass up.

He smiled at the light banter between men accustomed to each other, it had been the same in the Tercios and elsewhere, it eased the tension. He listened carefully when their target and employer was mentioned and smiled at the exclamations of surprise, he had suspected as much, being in Felipe’s pay taught you one thing for certain. The Spanish King hated the Ottomans and his generals and admirals certainly knew the dangers of Malta being Turkish. He would most certainly pay, no matter what if the Company did their part.

He sighed as the meeting broke up, he had no idea what they wanted of him, he had signed on as sergeants of Muskets, to Rodriquez great chagrin. But with nothing but his sword and his experience in the Spanish army going for him he would have a hard time pressing for a full command.

Leisurely strolling back to the men he wanted to relay their destination to Rodriquez before the lieutenant called for an assembly.

Rodriquez spotted Diego returning and waved him over and smiled at the Russian,

“We use a wooden fork, well those who have harquebusiers do, some of us already have muskets, they tend to be light, if not as powerful,”

He turned to Diego,

“This here is by God a Russian, seems he is in our outfit.”

Nodding to the man Diego pulled Rodriquez aside and gave him the gist of the meeting.

“Seems we are once again in the pay of Felipe.”

Rodriquez raised an eyebrow,

“Really?”

“Malta, to stop the Turk.”

Rodriquez spat and looked sharply at one of the corsair sailors as they passed by,

“With this lot?”

Diego shrugged,

“The Company seems to trust them, and I think even the Red Hand will think twice before betraying them, besides, he will lose many men if he tries anything now we are aboard.”

“The Red Hand? Are you sure?”

“Almost, who else would sail Christians to defend a siege against the Ottomans?”

Rodriquez shrugged,

“I do not trust them, and none of our Moriscos will; only Yussuf can be completely safe I wager.”

Diego shrugged and started to walk towards the meeting, Rodriquez and the Russian trailing behind. He avoided a large group of betting men and finally reached within earshot of his lieutenant.

The two Spaniards listened to Mario, and raised an ironic eyebrow at each other when they heard about the discipline and elitist speak of the Company. Without a word they easily agreed that even the company could have learned a thing or two against France in northern Italy, or in Flanders.

Finally Diego casually raised a hand,

“Sir, perhaps you should hash out what sort of formation and order you wish to pursue?”

He looked around,

“I see a lot of different men, with even more different equipment, and while all are likely experienced fighters we may not all have the same tactics, or use the same formations?”

July 24, 1565 - At Sea

Andre looked at the older man with some irritation,” Only distantly are we related, very distantly at that.”

He did clasp the offered hand though,” Greetings. I have no intention of getting involved with your family in any way.”

“Why not?” Cai inquired mildly, releasing the other man’s hand.

“Because we are separate lines now,” Andre responded curtly,” We have nothing in common other than a distant ancestor. Actually, you and I are not even truly related. You are related to that other fellow by marriage I am sure. But you and I are not related by blood, at least not in any appreciable way.”

Cai stroked his beard in thought,” Well, be that as it may, it is only right and proper to introduce myself. I am Chen Cai.”

“I know who you are,” Andre nodded slowly,” You are the oldest member of the Free Company. I’ve made sure to know who I would be possibly fighting along side.”

“Good,” Cai smiled,” Smart thinking. So you would have no interest in joining me and my family for tea?”

“Not interested,” Andre shook his head,” I have no real desire to spend time with you and yours. I have nothing personally against you, but I have no desire to renew bonds of family with people I have nothing in common with other than a distant ancestor.”

“It is a start,” Cai murmured,” A way to begin the healing between branches of a family.”

“My family,” Andre spat,” has no interest in renewing familial bonds with yours. You can take my word on that.”

Cai sighed,” That is not very friendly. You state you have nothing against my family, yet you also have no interest in renewing family bonds. That is a paradox.”

“Don’t start splitting hairs with Greek philosophy,” Andre snapped,” If you were listening, you would have realized I said my family had no interest. I, myself, do not care one way or another. I joined the Free Company because I wanted to do so. In spite of my own family’s horror at my doing so.”

“So you are estranged from you family?” Cai cocked his head slightly.

“Not exactly,” Andre admitted,” But my father and I did have words after I retired from the Neapolitan army and informed him I would join the Free Company. He will get over it eventually.”

Cai nodded thoughtfully,” I see. Well the offer of tea is an open one. You are welcome any time.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Andre grimaced,” But I do not think that is likely to happen.”

Cai nodded in response. Andre nodded back with an ironic twist to his lips. He watched the older man make his way back up the ship, talking briefly to various men. Sometimes laughing at some comment or other made by certain people. Andre turned back and continued to watch the wake of the vessel as the oarsmen stroked to the beat of the coxswain’s drum.

thump, thump, thump went the beat of the drum, slowing Andre’s elevated heart rate after the encounter with the Chinese man.

That could have been much more unpleasant,Andre thought, I was certain the inevitable confrontation would have gone much worse. I have no intention of completely losing the respect and love of my family by becoming friends with these Chinese. They may not be bad people, such as Great grandfather Alaric swore they were. But I have a limited patrimony to inherit and I have no intention of losing it because of them.

I’ve squirreled away some money during my years in the army. But I have plans for that money. Improving the vineyard and expanding the exportation market to England and parts of Northern Europe.

I haven’t seen a warrior of that age in some time. I wonder how much skill he has left? No matter. It is unlikely that we will be truly fighting side by side. I refuse to worry about things I cannot change.

Andre grimaced and closed his eyes briefly. He began listening as a few veterans continued to talk about the hand signals of the Rangers. It was quite interesting, actually and he continued to watch. And listen. He found himself following along, his fingers working hard to make the gestures the veterans were demonstrating.

With a grunt, he moved his fingers into the next positions that symbolized yet another bit of information. A bit that just might save his life. The symbol for get down. He noticed the wounded one eyed man leave the group and saunter over toward where the loud noisy Artillery man and the equally annoying Knight were betting on some kind of game of chance involving sea birds.

July 24th - At Sea

Ivan listened to Rodriguez, "a good man" Ivan thought.

Just then Diego returned and took Rodriguez to one side, Ivan picked up his Axe and began to hone the edge of the blade. Once Diego and Rodriguez had finished talking Diego beckoned for his men to follow him to listed to the Lieutenant. Ivan slung the axe over his back and followed, he couldn't hear much from where he was standing but was surprised when Diego raised the question of tactics surely this would have been agreed by the Officers prior to sailing, if not once landed, "Oh well" he thought "better start think other than as a Russian".

Ivan turned to Rodriguez and grinned saying "Tactics are simple, kill Turks!" and laughed.

July 24, 1565 - At Sea

Finally Diego casually raised a hand,

“Sir, perhaps you should hash out what sort of formation and order you wish to pursue?”

He looked around,

“I see a lot of different men, with even more different equipment, and while all are likely experienced fighters we may not all have the same tactics, or use the same formations?”

Mario smiled briefly," You are exactly right, sergeant. We just might have different ideas on that sort of thing. But in the company we will work all that out. Those of us who have been doing this awhile know what we are going to be doing. For those who haven't, you'll learn."

"Such as?"

"Well there is the obvious square, of course," Mario continued," With muskets anchoring each corner and the others within the square of pikes. Or in line with the muskets on the corners as well as behind however many lines of pikes we'll have. Which will depend on the situation and how long we need those front ranks to be."

"Well, I have some thoughts, sir," Diego hesitated briefly.

"Well come on up here and we'll talk about it privately," Mario nodded pleasantly," Von Stark, if you would care to join us? The rest of you are dismissed for the moment. Make sure your armor and weapons are up to snuff. Sea air tends to do bad things to steel."

Mario waited as Von Stark and the new Spaniard, Diego come up to him. The others began to wander off, most of them to do what Mario had suggested. They were well aware of the need to keep their armor and weapons in good repair. It was the way they made their living. Poorly maintained equipment can be the death of you, and none of them wanted to be found wanting. Not by Lieutenant Chen, nor Sergeant Von Stark.

The consequences could be....unpleasant.

July 24, 1565 - At Sea

"The rest of you are dismissed for the moment. Make sure your armor and weapons are up to snuff. Sea air tends to do bad things to steel," the young Lieutenant suggested as he went to meet with his officers.

Cosimo fell out with the rest and spied his retainer in the mix of a crowd of others. Moving over to him quickly, he grabbed the boy and pulled him close.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothin', sir. They were betting on two seagulls. I just wanted to have a look."

Seeing the coins in King's hand, he assumed. "Win some, did you?"

"Um, no sir. I got these from...well, him" pointing to Gunshy "and another of the officers. It seems we are off to Malta, sir. And there be a hundred thousand Turk, too!" The boy was obviously excited.

Cosimo laughed. "Thank you, King. But I am well aware of our destination and foe. And if you don't watch yourself, you'll find out just how many Turk there are from the front line when I throw you to them as bait, capisco?"

"Aye, sir."

"Now go and check my weapons. They were kind enough to allow me my great sword, but I'll not know if I can use it at the moment. But if I do, it had better be sharp and strong. Now where did I put that bag. It has my daggers in it?"

The boy ran off to do as his master said and Cosimo located the bag and produced two daggers, sheathed and tied together with leather straps. He untied them and went about wiping them down as he watched the other members of his group mill about, laughing once more at the phrase used by the Russian - "Tactics are simple, kill Turks!" How true, he thought and smiled.

July 24, 1565 – The Mediterranean: Somewhere East of Malta.. the infantry

Diego paused slightly when he heard about interspersing guns into the main formation of pikes, that was what he would have suggested, but so far he had seen far too few gunners on the ship. He shrugged and nodded to Rodriquez and the Russian and moved closer to the lieutenant.

Nodding to the sergeant of the pike he introduced himself,

“I am Senor Diego de Priego, former officer of the Spanish Tercio of Lombardi. I have been signing on with my men as sergeant of the musket horns, or detachments if you will, we will need to work closely together I presume.”

Without waiting for a reply he turned to Mario, his slight Spanish accent giving his Italian a strange lilt,

“I was not trying to be difficult Sire, I merely observed that the number of conventional infantry men seemed to be rather high, I am most pleased to hear that the main formation will contain firepower inside the square.”

He shrugged,

“I was hired to command a formation of muskets, and that I will do to my the best of my ability, I just happened to notice that without an apparent cavalry opponent on an island of Malta then your pike formation will undoubtly be stronger if it doesn’t only rely on close contact and the firepower of my musketeers.”

He smiled slightly,

“Spain has some experience fighting Muslims, even under Felipe, and we have a most notorious reputation as infantry.”

His smile broadened proudly and turned to the pike man,

“We will need to talk yes? And to practise together, we would not want your pikes to stumble into the line of fire, or for my men to fire in the wrong direction no?`”

He nodded to Mario,

“Perhaps I can offer some ideas to whomever else is in charge of the other formation of muskets?”

July 24, 1565 – The Mediterranean: Somewhere East of Malta

Rodriquez turned to the Russian and gestured with his head for him to follow,

“Tell me more about Russia.”

They fell back into their old spot on the deck next to a man pulling out some knifes of his back sharpening them. Rodriquez silently shook his head, ones personal weapon should always be ready, not needing an order to look after.

He cursed silently as the shadow of one of the corsairs fell upon him. Being from the south of Spain the Barbary coast corsairs held no great esteem with him.

July 24, 1565 – The Mediterranean
The boy ran off to do as his master said and Cosimo located the bag and produced two daggers, sheathed and tied together with leather straps. He untied them and went about wiping them down as he watched the other members of his group mill about, laughing once more at the phrase used by the Russian - "Tactics are simple, kill Turks!" How true, he thought and smiled.

Ivan saw the boy scuttle across the deck and undo the straps and bring the daggers back to his master, the man was wiping down the daggers looking at the Russian and laughing to himself.

Ivan strolled across to him, placed the head of the axe on the ground in front him and said "You find something amusing about me?"

Just then he saw Rodriguez signal for him to follow him and said to the man "I shall see you later."

"You wish to know more about Russia? What can I tell you, it is a land of rolling countryside and true beauty, at least where I come from, but with a tyrant at it's head. I miss the land, the Streltsi and it's comradeship, otherwise I miss nothing. My time in Russia has passed and I have no wish to talk about it, it is time for me to move away from the past."

Ivan idly checked the head of his axe cleaning of any speck he found, took out his whetstone and sharpened the already perfect edge.

"I am sorry Rodriguez, I am not the best of company when asked about Russia, it has left me and I have left it when I left the Streltsi. I will talk about it when i am ready, for now I wish not to."

Ivan saw the look Rodriguez gave the Turk as he passed and grinned saying "Well, we agree on one thing then, we both dislike Turks!"

Rodriquez nodded,

“The Turk, no we do not like the Turk much, but those,”

He gestured slightly at the sailor,

“Those are not Turks, those are Barbary pirates, not so different from many Moors and Moriscos back home, yet they have not chosen a path of honour.”

He shrugged,

“They have chosen a life of the pirate, the life of a sailing rat, or scavenger.”

He smiled at the great axe,

“Seems like a heavy rest for your gun though.”

He leaned back closing his eyes and began dozing odd, the rasp of the whetstones on axe and daggers on either side dulling the sounds of the men in a calming fashion.

July 24, 1565 - Somewhere in the Mediterranean

Saito Matsunaga, for the first time since leaving his native Japan, felt at ease. Sitting on the port rail amidships, he was enjoying the soft warm breeze and mist of the Mediterranean as the galley plowed through ther calm seas. His thoughts were of home, of the Himeji Castle where he had spent most of his life and of Master Meiji Yoshi, who had instructed him since he was five. The thoughts were pleasant and invigorating and Saito drew strength from them.

A wave suddenly hit the ship and the galley rocked sharply almost knocking Saito off his rail. He noticed from the corner of his eye a number of his fellow rangers struggling to hold back their chuckles as the strangely dressed man was almost thrown overboard. He managed a slight smile of his own regretting that he looked such a begginner in the eyes of his new company. Acceptance would be hard to find here, he thought. Most of these men had been in battle together, they had shared victory and blood and were wary of the outsider. "Justifiably so", he muttered, "justifiably so."

The crashing waves reminded him of why he was here, what he had to do, and how he could bring honor back to his name and his house. The smile quickly faded from his face and Saito went below decks to tend to his arms. The saltwater had a nasty way of turning the finest of wares into rusting hulks of scrap. Saito was determined that his weapons would not suffer that fate.

Rodriquez smiled at the great axe,

“Seems like a heavy rest for your gun though.”

He leaned back closing his eyes and began dozing odd, the rasp of the whetstones on axe and daggers on either side dulling the sounds of the men in a calming fashion.

Ivan smiled back and said

"It may appear heavy but once trained to use it properly the weight becomes nothing and when you are faced with an enemy and no powder I'll take my axe over your forked stick anytime. Now sleep my friend I guess we shall not have much sleep when we reach harbour."

July 24, 1565 – The Mediterranean: Somewhere East of Malta

Marin sat with the rest of the infantry, at least those who could stand the rocking of the sea, enjoying the Mediterranean sun. He could tell who hadn't grown up near the sea, and it was funny. All of his life he had lived on the coast, the constant trips with father to this island or that. As a child he had often snuck down to the dock when his father was away. Old Enzo and his crew. They used to gamble and laugh, tell jokes. Marin had enjoyed it. That was until he met Dolfo and that woman of his.

Looking back across the deck, Marin spotted Yao Hui struggling to keep his armor and weapons free of rust. He again smiled. One thing you learned on the sea was to keep things in working order. The grin faded quickly though, he couldn't remember if he had checked his own equipment. He rolled over to where he had been a while before and began sorting through his pack. When he turned back, Yao Hui was walking across the ship, hand carrying a letter, and a smirk on his face.

Marin tried to sneak over, but couldn't get close enough to hear the conversation. All three of them were talking, privately. But it never hurt to 'overhear' what others were saying. Marin had learned that one at a young age. But he couldn't do it, not on this ship. So he waited. All three of the men were dark. He was always nervous around them, even though Mario was his commander, he didn't trust him. Something about the Free Company's policy towards foreigners made him a bit uneasy. But he got over it.

Yao Hui may have been foreign, but they had trained at the same time. And Yao Hui had been singled out for special treatment. It was rough for Marin, what with his injury, but it had been hell for Yao Hui. Marin doubted he would have made it had he undergone the same punishment. They ended their conversation, and Marin moved to intercept Yao Hui, but was stopped en route. The sergeants were calling the men together.

Moving to his place, Marin kicked aside a heavy rope on the ground, and held in a laugh as a few of his fellows tripped in it. Their commander shouted at them, and Marin stiffened up. He didn't want to be singled out. They listened to his speech, and a lot of men reacted to the announcement of their destination. Marin had been to Malta, though he couldn't remember it well. His father had made some deal or another with someone there. It was too long ago to be significant in Marin's mind.

Killing Turks though, that is what Marin looked forward too. He had grown up on the stories of Turkish pirates, robbing, murdering and doing things too wicked to mention. His uncles used to scare him into nightmares when they told him to 'be good, or the Turk will get you'. He had never met his grandfather because of Turks, and he was more than happy to repay them. After the speech the men broke up, and Marin looked around. He wanted to find Sigismund. They were about the same age, and Marin figured he might be interested in hearing about Yao Hui's little adventure earlier.

Now, if he could just find that brightly colored hat...

24 July 1565

The word had made it back to Heinrich: They were travelling to Malta to fight Turks. This was not his first fight against them; he had grown up when the Turks were threatening to take Vienna and break through into Central Europe. And when he first began his long career of fighting, he had fought Turks as well. It had been a while, though, and Heinrich was quite ready to spill some more heathen blood.

Heinrich took a look around. Everyone's more or less ready, he thought, as long as we don't have to fight straight off the boat. Half of them are pouring their guts off the side out of seasickness. Of course, he had been that his first times on a boat. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

"The Lord is at your right hand,
Shattering their kings on the day of wrath,
Judges the nations full of dead,
Shakes the heads of all the earth.
Of the stream in the way he shall drink,
For which to raise up the head."

"Interesting," another of the men said, as Heinrich looked up at him. "Let's hope all that shattering and judging happens to the Turks."

"Let that be a lesson, my gwirionyn, never bet against the little guys - we want it more. And never bet on the cripple - he's made a mistake before, he'll make it again!"

The gunner swept the coins off the barrel and started paying out the winners, making sure the big winners (and Gunshy) ended up with a slug. "It's a good omen, it is, though. The Turks the big one-eyed bastard, blind because he's godless, and we're the scrappy little guy that's going to win!"

The one-eyed Ranger took it all in, a burning anger starting low in his gut and then gradually building to a crescendo. Little mutants, giant freaks, never bet on the cripple, blind because he's godless...Arpad spat on the deck, barely resisting the desire to lash out at his new 'companions'. If that was what they were, it sure wasn't what they felt like. A smirk formed on his disfigured face, and as the others celebrated their winnings, he stepped over to where the small gull was feeding on the blood, his blood, and kicked the bandage into the sea. The small gull flew down to try and rescue his prize, but the bandage quickly saturated and began to attract fish before it sank. Despondent, the small bird flew away more or less empty-handed for all his labors.

"And that" he said quietly, more to himself than anyone "is a lesson in limits. No fight exists in a vacuum. Somewhere down there is a godless one-eyed fish who patiently waited to take his fill from the prize of another. And that's why you bet on the cripple...they're craftier. If they weren't, they'd be dead." He spat the last sentence out before stalking away to a different section of the deck, not only angered by the comments he left behind, but irritated and increasingly ashamed by how he had to bob and nod his head constantly just to make sure he could see where he was going. Godless freak indeed.

24 July 1565

Glorious grinned sheepishly at Maurice. "Cost of doing business, you know."

The young cavalryman nodded. "Glad to know we've got a destination. The less time spent on a ship the better. And I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that. I don't know what's worse: Turks... or boats!"

Glorious laughed. "It takes some getting used to, doesn't it? But I'll bet you'll be fine once we get to Malta. Everyone's like that their first few times on a ship."

"Well, at least I won't have to bother with leaning over the side."

"Iron stomach, yes, French food will do that to you."

Maurice looked at him, at first annoyed, then not sure what to think, and then let out a laugh large enough to get the attention of several around him. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I'd better see who else we've got on this trip. Hasn't been too long since I was new!"

He drifted off, but didn't have to go too far to find someone interesting. Definitely infantry he thought. "I hope you're enjoying this boat ride more than I am. Name's Maurice, cavalry."

Glorious watched with a faint grin as the one-eyed ranger kicked the gull's prize overboard and stalked off angrily. Even in defeat, he cheats the winner out of his prize. Not honorable, perhaps, but I can appreciate the sentiment.

He leveled his gaze at Gunshy. Speaking of the dishonorable... "Alright, you squat dog, so you won half a dozen of my denari. That, I'm not impressed by." He jabbed a long finger at the artillery lieutenant. "You want to go double or nothing on the soldi, you'll find a better bet than a couple of rancid birds fighting over scraps. Though God only knows why I'd agree to gamble with a liar and a cheat like you!"

July 24, 1565 - Somewhere in the Mediterranean


Cai nodded in response and turned away in the opposite direction, all the time shaking his head. Andre may not see the Chens as family but Cai does. Ties by marriage is equally as strong by normal family ties and whether Andre likes it or not, Cai regards him as a part of the family.

"Not the best of first meetings isn't it sir?" Cai turned to see who it was. To his left stood Ogedai, Senior Sergeant for the Light Cavalry. Tall, dark, burly and sullen looking like his great grand father, the mongol Dian Wu'tu, Ogedai at the age of 46 was second only to Chen in terms of experience in the Light Cavalry and Cai's current choice to be the new Lieutenant for the Light Cavalry after Cai retires at the end of this campaign.

Cai shrugged," He is family whether he likes it or not. It will probably just take time to convince him."

"Yes Sir." Ogedai agreed with his officer," And Sir, may I know the outcome of the officers meetings? The rest of the boys are rather anxious to know."

"It is Malta."

"Ah, I see. So it will be the Turks again." Ogedai allowed a slight smile to creep onto his face." Do you want to break the news to the boys?"

"Yes, I think I should. I believe the foredeck and aft deck are both occupied at the moment so find a suitable spot and gather the boys there. I will be there presently."

Ogedai nodded and started looking around for some Cavalrymen to gather the rest of the Cavalry.

"Radziwill, stop gambling on those birds and gather the rest of the boys! The Lieutenant got important news to tell us! You too, Raymond Gerard. Don't just sit there doing nothing! Get your overgrown carcass of a WLAK off the deck and help Radziwill! And find me a meeting spot as well! Well well well, von Schreiber since you are looking so free too, you can go help the 2 of them as well. Now move it before I make the lot of you swim to Malta!"

Cai chuckled as he moved off to get his stuff for the meeting. Ogedai was a good Sergeant and will probably do a good job later as Lieutenant. He moved over to where a group of men were gathered gambling on a bird fight. Cai's fingers twitched in reflex motion but he beat down the urge to get involved in the gambling as well. Cai sighed, he wished he was young again. Then he could be able to gamble without looking undignified.

Sighing again, he made his way below decks.

July 24, 1565

Cosimo continued to polish his daggers, thankful that the Russian had been led away. He had no desire to pick a fight with one that he might need as a friend later...at least not a serious fight, and certainly not against that large axe.

As he finished, he slid one of the daggers back into it's sheath, tying it to his side. The other sheath, he tucked in his front. He used the tip of the free blade to clean his nails, hearing the older German, the one closest to his age recite a prayer of some sort,

"The Lord is at your right hand,
Shattering their kings on the day of wrath,
Judges the nations full of dead,
Shakes the heads of all the earth.
Of the stream in the way he shall drink,
For which to raise up the head."

"Interesting," Cosimo noted, as Heinrich looked up at him. "Let's hope all that shattering and judging happens to the Turks."

Before Heinrich could respond, they both were caused to turn and hear the angered reply of the one eyed Hungarian.

Cosimo rolled his eyes, "It's the Welshman again...speaking out as they always do. Must have upset him."

Heinrich eyed him with some suspicion, "Have I seen you before? Before you joined this company, that is?"

"Might have. Been all around your region for the past ten years or so. Who knows, we might have fought together before...or even fought against one another," he replied with a wink.