The Free Company- Book V: Bloody Retribution

August 17th, 1440 -- near Cremona

If there was still emnity between Cosimo de Medici and the Free Company, it was only discovered some days later.

In the wake of the battle, Frederik had gone looking for Osman, who had been returned to the Company camp after the brief encounter with the Florentines. He had to climb the chain of command to Captain himself before he discovered that -- at Visconti's urging -- the mercenary had given the assassin to Cosimo for a thorough interrogation.

And so Frederik climbed the hill to where Cosimo's army was camped, to seek out an audience with the gonfaloniere himself. After twice capturing the elusive Turk, he was determined to see final justice done.

Frederik, to his surprise, was ushered into Cosimo's presence almost immediately. The Florentine was perched on the edge of a fur-covered chair, draped in finery, examining a map of Italy that was spread across a field table, seemingly making plans for his return to Florence. A stack of missives sat to one side. He leaned back at Frederik's entrance and looked expectantly at the Dane.

A long, silent moment ticked by as the two sized one another up. Here, after all, was the man who had sent Frederik into flight across the peninsula for months, who held his lover in captivity, facing a still-uncertain fate. Frederik had to forceably restrain himself from attacking his host, knowing that to do so would mean not only his probable death, but the destruction of the uneasy peace between the Company and Florence. Frederik finally blurted out the cause of his business out of frustration.

"Osman. Are you done with him?"

Cosimo looked surprised to even hear the name. "Ah, the assassin? Yes, yes I am."

"And?"

"And I am satisfied with his story. It would seem you saved me from aiding the very people that killed my mother." Unspoken went the implied and I owe you.

"Then I have a request. Give me Osman."

Cosimo smiled grimly. "I would, Hviid, but it should not, cannot, and will not be done."

Frederik clenched his fists until white-knuckled. "I have let that assassin escape from me once before, and you see the ruin he has wreaked on both our houses. I will not let that happen again."

"You fear I am hiding him, planning to use him for my own ends only to have him escape again?" Cosimo shook his head. "Fear not, Hviid, justice will be done, but it will not be you who should do it."

"And why not? Your mistake was averted only because I captured him."

Cosimo leaned forward. "My mistake was pursued only because of a lust for vengeance against the Free Company. My anger at the Free Company came to pass only because of Maria's lust for vengeance against Syban. I could avenge myself on her, and you could avenge yourself on me. Where would it end?"

He sighed and slumped in his chair. "I am not an old man, Hviid, but already, I tire of war. It is a sport better suited for Sforza, or your Captain, whose hearts are truly in it. All I wish to do is return to my city and build my library. So if the cycle of bloody retribution must end, let it end with me. I have given over the assassin to Visconti so that true justice may be his end, not the kind made with the point of a knife."

Cosimo paused, and his eyes wandered across the table. He met Frederik's gaze, and the Dane could see cunning there. "You know," the gonfaloniere continued, scooping up a letter from the top of the stack, "I received a report this morning. It would seem your Maria escaped from captivity, killing two of my guards and one of my aides in the process." Frederik noticed Cosimo studiously avoided any mention of Drakken. "Fortunately for her, I discovered letters among Gattamelata's camp which suggest that the selfsame aide was, in fact, a Venetian spy." He patted the stack of papers meaningfully, and Frederik understood.

So my cooperation is to be secured with Maria's life. You abandon the hunt for her, Cosimo, and I forget about Osman -- and about you. You're more clever than I gave you credit for, de Medici -- if you are truly of that house, and not an Ardino. Perhaps that would be the cruelest irony of all. Frederik decided to take a chance. "And other servants of yours? What about them?"

Cosimo stared at Frederik evenly. "I have no other servants that crossed paths with Maria de Medici, so I have no one to be concerned about."

Frederik inclined his head slightly. So Drakken is unprotected, and, you would prefer, forgotten. Good. Through clenched teeth, he muttered, "It seems you leave me with little choice."

Cosimo smiled, and the deal was done. "We all must pay a price, Frederik. Let it no longer be paid in blood."

* * *

Few would ever know of Osman's true fate, but it was being decided at that very moment. In the little village of Marzalengo, some miles north of Cremona, a criminal was being led onto a low platform, his head was wrapped in cloth, he was pushed onto the block. The townsfolk had been told that he was a murderer, which was more accurate than any of them cared to know. The magistrate had informed them that he had been tried before the Duke's law and found guilty.

And now, the sentence was to be carried out. If the villagers thought anything odd about the black-clad knights who stood guard at the platform's base, they made no mention of it -- certainly not within earshot of those dark helmets. If they noticed the richly-dressed page flitting about worriedly, they thought that perhaps he was another minor functionary. And if they noticed that the masked executioner was particularly fat, or that he walked with a visible limp -- well, they were simple peasantfolk, and could not be expected to be intimately familiar with their Duke.

The executioner waited patiently as the charges and sentence were read, the appropriate formalities carried out. Finally, he hefted his axe in anticipation of his task.

Under the mask, Filippo Maria Visconti began laughing as the blood splattered his traditionally dark clothes, laughing so hard that he could barely control himself. Fortunately for the sanity of potential listeners, the sound was overwhelmed by the grisly noise of the execution, and by the cheering of the crowd...

September 5th, Lucern (Switzerland) - Early Afternoon

The walls of the house were blue, with yellow trim. In front of it lay a garden that looked well tended, and even the street in front of the house was swept clean. Despite the color, it seemed to fit in, other houses along this wide avenue sharing similarly bright color schemes.

"Is this it?" Erik asked softly.

"Yeah." It had to be, this was the market street after all.

"Are we going to get off our horses?" The german asked, smiling cheerfully as Lochlan turned in his saddle to look at his friend.

"Uhh, Lochlan?" John Brandon chimed in uncertainly. Erik and Lochlan had released Captains son from calling them by their officer titles for the trip, Lochlan found it hard to think of the boy...no, the man as a subordinate anymore. He had come out of the battle a little in shock, but had rallied well, and was as sharp as his father. "The neighbors are starting to notice us standing here, were going to have to do something."

Lochlan sighed, and swung his leg over to dismount, he could hear Erik and John doing the same thing. He was incredibly aware of the eyes on them, aware of how out of place they looked, aware of the clinking of chainmail, and the creaking of toughened leather.

"I have to let this go." He said softly. "He, all of them, have to rest in peace."

"Then do Lochlan, finish it for them." Erik said, John nodded, they had told him of their errand when they drafted him to come along. It had been Lochlan's idea for the youg man who would most likely command the company some day, if it survived.

"Do you understand what makes us what we are?" Lochlan said, as the ranger and his commanders son walked to the stables where Erik waited.

"Were the sum of all the members of the Company, of each indivuidual, but some how were more than that as well..." John trailed off, his eyes clouded as he worked through the concept.

"Indeed. The Company has fought its way across Europe since before you were born, and almost none of us who remember it remain, yet, don't you feel as if you had been a part of that journey? Despite the fact that you only joined the ranks in Rhodes?"

John stopped, his eyes bright as nodded slowly. "I do Lochlan." Addressing his old teacher by his name for the first time in since he had picked up a pike. "The Company exists because we are more than the sum of all our brothers." Lochlan was proud that the word brother flowed so naturally from the young man's tongue.

"Your smart John, you understand things and people much better than most others you'l meet. You might even command one day, but always remember that no one is more than those who they draw to serve them. The Free Company has drawn some of the most capable soldiers and warriors I've ever seen, your father calls to them whether he realizes it or not. And we honor them for it, they are not tools to be sacrificed. They are brothers."

"So we go to Lucern, to keep a promise and honor Roos for what he did for all of us?" John made the connection even as Lochlan finished.

The ranger smiled at John's use of the word 'us'. "Yes, we go to keep a promise to a brother, and a friend."

The ranger blinked tears from his eyes, there weren't many, but they were full of all the grief, pain, and sorrow. These few tears had been patiently waiting to fall for a long time.

"I know." Lochlan agreed. "It's just difficult, the problem with keeping a wound bound in the dark so long is that the binding itself becomes a comfort." The ranger remembered then, he saw all of it again in a second. He straightened, his shoulders rising from their slump. "Come on." He gestured with his head toward the door.

He could see the eyes from the window, but he politely ignored them. He came to a stop in front of the door and knocked firmly, Erik and John behind.

A moment later after some interesting noises, the door opened. The woman in the door was perhaps in he early thirties, with a kind face and a mouth that looked as if it ought to have been smiling. At the moment though it pursed in a line as she regarded the three men with intelligent eyes.

"Madame Roos?" Lochlan ventured carefully.

"I am, how may I help you...gentlemen." She said in a neutral tone, clearly trying to make up her mind very quickly.

"Madame, my name is Lochlan. I am the second in command of the mercenary group called the Free Company." There was recognition in her eyes, many people had heard of Constantinople, and this close to Italy, Cremona was known as well.

"Good sir, I still fail to see what..." she trailed off when Lochlan politely raised a hand to interrupt.

"Madame, I bring word of your husband." All the color drained from her face, and Lochlan could see her hands clench the folds of her long skirt. "I am sorry madame, Renaud Roos is dead." She collapsed against the doorframe, but pushed away before Lochlan could rach out to help her. "And." Lochlan went on, knowing the second part was just as important. "He told me that I was to tell you, he redeemed his honor."

Madame Roos swallowed. "He did?" Her voice was hoarse.

"He and the entire Keil sacrificed themselves to open the way for us to escape." She bowed her head, tears streaking down her face. "Madame, I don't know how to express how sorry I am." She looked up then, on her tear streaked face was a gentle smile.

"Come in Lochlan, your friends as well. Tell me what happened, all of it." Her smile remained, even when two little heads peaked from around the side of the door frame, looking at the three strangers in the doorway of their home. "Come in now." She gestured, stepping into the house. "Ill introduce you to these two little terrors as well."

Lochlan glanced back at Erik and John. "Come on." He said quietly, a small smile on his face.

The three stepped into the well cared for house, they began to remove the articles of war they all carried on themselves. As they removed them the three mercenaries smiled as the two children bounced around the room, pelting them with questions and occasionally running into each other.

They went into the home of a man all of them had called friend. In a way, it was full circle. Renaud Roos had left his home to redeem his honor, he had done this, but died in the process. However, those whom he had chosen to redeem his honor with had understood him, and had taken it upon themselves to do what he could not in this world. Lochlan had kept his promise to his friend, to do the one thing that Roos had been unable to do.

When they were finished, the two young ones took them to the kitchen where their mother waited. "So, who are you?" The older one, perhaps about eight asked as they walked down the short hallway to where Madame Roos waited.

Lochlan's smile deepened for a moment. "Were brothers." He replied.


The End