December 24, 1582
One of the detriments of being an ocean vessel was that the House of the Rose was always wanting for fresh water. The thought itself had not dawned on Antonio the first few weeks he had been detained simply because he had not pieced together the true nature of the House itself until his unsuccessful attempt at escape. He was once again reminded of this curiosity as he stood in the seemingly endless reservoir of fresh water sprinkling from a wooden spout above him.
The cool unsalted water touched his head with a smoothness that matted his dark hair against his features and proceeded all the way down the length of his body. Naked in the bath, he still, nonetheless, held an article in his fingers—that ring of gold and eye of sapphire which now stared back upwards at him as he gazed down upon it. It was a constant reminder of a sky that he could not see and of a touch he could not feel.
“Hurry it up in there!” banged one of the guards against the bath’s door.
Antonio was not at all startled by the sudden noise and neither did it change the tranquility of the water filming around his contours like an icy comforter. As he looked down at the ring his thoughts continued to churn. If the freshwater was abundant on this vessel, either other vessels would need to service the House to supply it with water or it frequently made stops to ports to resupply. Either option presented itself with an opportunity to escape.
Antonio placed the ring back onto the ledge where the soap frothed in the moist ether of the wash chamber. Pulling on a chain above him once more the water spouted downwards onto him. The contraption was quite simple; a reservoir of drinking water and bath water were kept in a large tank somewhere on the vessel and it was most likely kept in the next room. One of the reasons how he knew was because hidden at the very top of the wash chamber was a small gap between the wall and the ceiling. Depending on the day this gap would sometimes overflow with fresh water. All of these little details would be his surprise. All of these would mean that he would finally be rid of his captors—for now. He planned to return and burn every single one of them on the vessel into the sea.
The last stream of liquid drained noisily into the hole in the floor with a sputtering dénouement and was replaced with the earthy wooden pitter patter of droplets synapsing between Antonio’s fingers and the floor. His face, staring at the wooden planks below him, grew slack with resignation as his features were studded with tiny mirrors burgeoning downwards to his jawline. Tonight, he knew another ship would be coming to resupply the House; not only did he know because of the timing he had memorized but also because he had taken the initiative of using up as much of the fresh water as possible. Tonight he would make his escape.
---
Miss Jiang rolled the stone upon her dagger with a precision that displayed the hallmark of her trade. Her ordinary complexion stared back at her through the double edges of her blade. Smiling with half crooked teeth at the display of perfection in the sheen, she sheathed the weapon among the others she had just recently tuned.
“Will it be tonight then?” was the accented voice from behind the curtain.
“He will try to make it out through the fresh water access. I’ve seen him probe around the gap near the ceiling.” Miss Jiang responded coolly as she stroked yet another sharp object with her stone.
“You’ve been looking at him while he bathes?”
Miss Jiang said nothing but simply grinned.
“No one will say that I wasn’t justified in killing him if he tries to escape,” mused Miss Jiang while her eyes still followed the slinking rubs of her stone on steel. “When he tries to get onto the other boat during his evening bath I’ll be waiting for him.”
There was no further conversation but the tall European figure behind the screen slid back into the other chamber satisfied with what he heard. As for Miss Jiang, this would mean the solidification of the House. No more distractions. There was no blush on Miss Jiang’s face as she remembered spying on her naked charge. The surprise of the first day upon finding the scar on Antonio’s pelvis had long since passed in the surmounting worry of a House divided. No, she thought, Nia would not be reunited with this apparition of her past. Her skills honed in the schools of intrigue in Paris will stay forever in the House of the Rose.
---
Antonio barely ate his dinner while the telltale signs of another pit stop for the ship coming were approaching: the strange alacrity of all the men and women on board—a sign that fresh food and wine were being imported. He stuffed what was left of his rice and soup more so out of need for energy than any want of taste. Even while he ate, the figure of a ring burned into the flesh of his right hand which clasped onto that object with such intensity.
An hour after dinner and Miss Jiang had arrived as usual to usher him to his evening bath. Although the double bath wasn’t necessary, Nia wanted their guest to be clean especially in the sometimes uncouth holdings of a sea-faring vessel. Miss Jiang held his towel and the two large men escorted him to the latrine and bath chamber as per usual. Miss Jiang could see the man undress inside the wooden chamber before quickly locking the entranceway shut. It was time.
Using the chain to pump some water, the rushing noise was enough to mask the careful climb that Antonio began towards the gap at the top of the wooden wall. Peering with straining eyes into the darkness beyond; he could clearly see the moonlight reflecting off a portion of the dimness: it must be the portal by which the other ship would dump the fresh water.
After the confirmation, he briefly stepped downward only to lather his body with the soap provided as much as possible. Although his stay at the House of the Rose lessened his overall figure, he was still a bit too bulky to fit through the aperture and thus needed a little lubrication.
In complete silence hidden by the gushing of the water from the spout, Antonio squeezed and scraped his way past the wooden portal and found himself submerged in the mass reservoir of the hold. It was an eerie feeling in the night for the waves only glimmered with the faintest of moonbeam and fostered the idea that the pool went down into the very abyss of some Chinese hell.
Careful to navigate the surface with as little disturbance as possible he approached the open doorway that led into the open air. Already, he could hear people talking above and counted two voices amongst the silences of the night. Hiding underneath the wooden planks he watched the shadowplay of two workmen scraping along the edge of the silver screen which was the reflection of the water underneath the doorway. A sudden surprise caught him as water gushed inward: the men were obviously refilling the tank manually.
Counting the intervals between their movements to their boat and onto the hold, Antonio grabbed hold of the edges of the opening when he knew the others were away and reached upward. With only his underpants clinging to his bathed skin, his dark eyes darted about anxiously to spot signs of any detection: none.
Around him he could only see the wooden fortress floating alone in the night with a small ship connected with a wooden plank and rope directly ahead of him. He apparently was standing upon a ledge that ran the girdle of the House and also provided a service entrance for the loading and unloading of hold material. With his escape nearly at hand, his only problem remaining was on what to do with the two men without being heard. If he attempted to cross the plank to the smaller ship, they would surely see him; but if he stayed on the ledge, he would surely be seen the next time the two walked across with their loads. Only two seconds left to decide.
Reaching to the plank with both hands he slowly dropped his entire body from the ledge and swung it underneath the plank simultaneously grabbing hold of the other side of the wooden bridge with his right hand. Supporting his entire weight with his upper body, he carefully approached the smaller ship hanging from underneath the walkway and moving hand over hand. Antonio grabbed hold of the hull of the smaller ship just as the two walked the top with their precious supplies.
The supply boat itself was a simple affair. Fitted with the usual sail of the Eastern sort, it housed a small chamber by which supplies could be protected both underneath the deck and above deck. It was that chamber above deck that Antonio decided he must go to. Shifting all the way to the opposite end of the craft and waiting for the two mariners to once again head back to the House, Antonio scaled the rear of the boat and nearly rolled into a thud onto the deck. Quickly recovering himself and holding in pants of exhaustion, he slipped into the inner chamber of the top deck hold. Ducking behind a barrel of fresh water, he waited.
The two men returned once again speaking in a foreign tongue to each other. Almost jovial if it weren’t for their scarred and weathered faces, they suspected nothing when a torch cracked the back of one of their skulls. Before the other could let out a cry, Antonio had unsheathed the first one’s sword and pierced through the very throat of the remaining adversary.
With a gurgling cry of pain that was easily masked by the sloshing Pacific, both opponents fell dead onto the deck. Replacing the torch quickly, he rushed to the front of the boat and cut off the ropes connecting him to the House and pulled the plank back onto the ship. Although the ship configuration was of a different design, he easily understood the basics of navigation and began bringing the small vessel about. It did not matter where he would go just yet since only escape was at the forefront of his mind…
The ship was coming about albeit slowly. He figured that even with the House vessel trailing him, this lighter construct would fare better against the waves. It was certainly no Galleon, but all he would need would be five or six knots to outrun his pursuers. If necessary he could start dumping the excess water and supplies on board. With these preparations in mind and the dark horizon suddenly open to his navigation, Antonio almost failed to notice the shining steel rushing towards him.
Using the mariner’s sword, he was able to deflect the object in time while almost falling back onto the deck if it weren’t for his hold on the helm. The dagger made a tuning ding against his blade before creating a resolute thud against the wood of the hull.
“Good eye,” was the familiar voice that rolled into the evening coldness like a chilling taunt. Miss Jiang uncurled from her hiding position on the ceiling bars and dropped down gracefully on her tip toes onto the deck.
Antonio shoved a dowel into the spokes of the wheel to hold the course steady before positioning his sword menacingly at the approaching adversary. Antonio barely had the breath to say anything in return but instead took a quick second to inspect the movements of the larger ship now beginning to pull away.
“If you’re looking for me to call for the guards,” Miss Jiang explained, “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. It’s only you and me, Antonio and I’m afraid that you’re going to die.”
Circling to his right as he watched the young spy step to his left, Antonio attempted to blink more concentration into his tired body. In this style of fighting there would only be one stroke. Either both would die or one would be alive. There would be no second chances in the way that they both wielded their weapons. One bore with the confidence of the House, the other with the desperation of escape.
As the moon strained to watch in awe at the final stances each took, Antonio’s breath seemed to find its end. The fluid motions of the two bodies lunging at each other sang a silent chord of resonating steel. The two approached each other in the darkness of the night and became partners in a dance of steel and blood.
---
December 25, 1582
Jesca watched over the counting of the silver pieces now streaming into the coffers of Infinite Castle. It was not just so much for the sake of curiosity that her careful eyes enumerated each dropping disc, but also to make sure that none of her subordinates were pilfering from the community fund. For someone as astute as Jesca, she understood well that there was little honour among thieves.
“How’s the counting going?” someone asked from the periphery of the accounting chamber.
Jesca resisted the urge to turn her head. Not in front of everyone else, she thought. She merely returned with, “Welcome back, Lex.”
Lexington White was perhaps the most valued asset in Jesca’s arsenal: Tall and eminently handsome, he represented a welcome change from the usual set of ruffians and rejects that perpetually marred the Infinite Castle with an ugly contemplation. It was no secret that Lex was Jesca’s favourite either. Rumours, especially among the Chinese agents working for the Guild, had it that his name is actually a form of “Rex” since their language permits such an interpretation. They recognized it as the Christian designation for King—a worthy counterpart for their strong willed princess. Most people, however, recognize the favouritism as a natural consequence of Lex having never failed a mission and having never hesitated to protect his mistress.
“Making contact with the Spanish spies wasn’t hard,” Lex began as his tired men made their way through different passages for respite, “All you have to do was walk into Shanghai or Nanjing and you’d get trapped in one of their nets before you take a second step in those cities.”
Jesca let out a scruff snort. Despite her elegant features, she exuded a careful appearance of severity; lest these brigands and spies begin to think they could seize her position.
“What did they say?” Jesca inquired without taking her eyes off of the sparkling circlets of silver.
“They say that they have two requests at the moment,” Lex relayed while placing some of his equipment down on the furniture around the chamber. “One is to inform them of troop movements and to deter military functions around the capital—”
“So they’re going after Beijing after all,” Jesca said mostly to herself.
“Yes, it would seem that way. They also said that they’re looking for another missing operative of theirs—a Duke Antonio.”
Jesca nodded almost dispassionately while waving a hand in acknowledgement.
“Is that the latest advance from the Guild?” Lex asked with a silly grin on his handsome face. He walked up to the side of Jesca and watched the counters make an orchestra of wealth for them.
“With this, we should be set for months if not years,” Jesca concluded.
“It looks like the Guild’s very interested in Spanish domination here.”
“Perhaps. So long as we get our money I don’t care if they want to invite Saracens for dinner.”
There was a short pause and Jesca stole a glance to her subordinate. Lex returned her gaze with a tired yet resolute smile. Like a moment of comfort, it was a shared spirit of mutual determination passing between them: they could make it.
“So why haven’t you begun operations already?” Lex questioned curiously turning his head back to the dirty handed accountants. “Too busy counting your silver?”
Jesca crossed her arms and tilted her head mischievously. “Today is better a day for celebration.”
“Well I did pull off another great mission but that’s hardly reason to throw a party,” Lex joked.
“No, idiot,” Jesca corrected as she stepped forward towards the shining metal organized along the today, “Today we will be celebrating Christmas.”
When Tom awoke, his grogginess was worsened by the dimness present inside the mansion. Although it would be the usual time for him to wake up in California, here in Osaka it was sometime in the dark hours of the early morning. The presence of the night did not, however, discourage the rumbling in his stomach.
The folds on his bed were an elaborate affair, but then again the entire complex was a beacon of European style elegance. Hanging portraits, ornate chairs, grand staircases, glittering chandeliers; everything had a pristine quality to it. In such a proper home, Tom suddenly became afraid that food service was not simply a ‘walk down to the kitchen and open the fridge’ affair. He thought he might as well try anyway.
Finding the kitchen in a barely lit house the size of a small village—at least that’s how it felt to Tom—was like trying to find the end of a large labyrinth. Luckily, the dining room lent itself to being displayed and easily pointed to the direction of the kitchen. Just as Tom thought, there were no servants or cooks awake at this hour of the night and he was faced with the daunting task of choosing which of the four monolithic stainless steel refrigerators to open. With digital displays and soft gel buttons he felt as if one false move in an attempt to get food would result in alarms being set off and the cooking timer counting down a self destruct device.
Nonetheless, he approached the one closest to him and was about to take the handle when the light invaded the room in a blinding array of white. Turning quickly with pinched breath, Tom suddenly noticed Rodrigo nearly stumbling into the tiled chamber.
“Rodrigo!” Tom called out quietly in surprise.
“Got hungry too, huh?” Rodrigo quipped with a grin while walking forward.
Rodrigo superseded a speechless Tom and opened the fridge. Rummage through the various items and occasionally taking out one or two dishes sealed in plastic containers, Rodrigo seemed to barely notice how strangely Tom was looking at him.
“Have you not slept yet?” Tom guessed allowing Rodrigo to dominate the food gathering.
“Not a wink,” Rodrigo replied almost viciously, “spent a good portion of the night interviewing that witness.”
“What did she say?” Tom asked taking a seat on a stool near the center island of the massive kitchen.
There was no answer. Tom felt as if Rodrigo was either reluctant or too fatigued to successfully come up with an explanation.
“It’s around breakfast time back home; want me to make you an omelet au fromage?” Rodrigo finally asked.
Tom took a second to answer with a stunned nod. It was then that he suddenly realized and remembered how little he actually understood of the things going on currently both in his periphery and his world. He looked down at his hands on the ceramic island top and he found himself holding his fingers together in a state of anxiety. He asked himself why this had to happen.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft hushing noise of eggs and cheese spreading out along a nonstick pan. A hint of salsa and some peppers made the browning mixture seem appetizing saying nothing of the aroma. Like someone coming out of a trance, Tom did not even realize that Rodrigo and he passed the whole time without conversation. He watched the other boy tiredly flip the omelets in the air with a kind of muscle memorized precision. Who was Rodrigo really?
When Rodrigo finished, both young men sat on opposite ends of the island and began eating their respective meals. There was strangely no eye contact once the food was served; there was no conversation. Tom was too lost in his thoughts and Rodrigo was fatigued. The only noise was the clatter of silverware against plate.
“It’s delicious,” Tom managed to say after finishing.
Rodrigo looked up and smiled in return.
“Well I better get back to my room. I want to freshen up and maybe take a shower…” Tom added. Rodrigo nodded an acknowledgement in time to see his friend put the plate away into the sink and slide away into the main chambers.
“Are you sure he’s the one you want for this?” Hayato’s voice suddenly came from the other end of the kitchen. “Your partner in this terrible business we’re in?”
“My dear Matsujun…” Rodrigo began tiredly speaking almost as if he was in a drunken stupor. “Tom is more than qualified. He has the right spirit for the job.”
“But he’s a Protestant, Janus, are you sure we can trust him?”
There was a passing moment of silence as Rodrigo stared down at his empty plate.
“He’s different…” Rodrigo muttered tiredly leaning forward on the countertop with his elbows. “You just have to trust me.”
Hayato might have objected more but his cell phone began to buzz inside the confines of his pants. Flipping it out quickly, he chatted in his native tongue as Rodrigo began to doze off on his plate.
“Rodrigo,” Hayato quickly called forcing Rodrigo into an attentive glance, “I didn’t want to tell you until I received confirmation but we’ve pinpointed the Wolf cell here in Osaka.”
Rodrigo’s eyes immediately flashed open exuberantly before he said, “I didn’t know you were already looking into that!”
Hayato just made a silly grin and said while turning around, “Call it a belated Christmas present.”
Chapter XLIII: Christmas Climax (coming soon)
