Chapter 4

Mortola seized the first opportunity she could to break up Resa and Dafne. At midday when the two women came into the kitchen so Resa could collect Capricorn's lunch, she was waiting for them. Resa was responsible for taking Capricorn all his meals. He ate alone in his private quarters while his men took all their meals together in the church. Curtly dismissing Resa to the task at hand, Mortola intercepted Dafne as she tried to follow her.

Although Capricorn had discharged Dafne into Resa's care, Mortola's authority still carried weight. Dafne did not want to test her. This appeared to be Resa's understanding as well. She didn't argue with her. This was not because she lacked a voice to express complaint but rather it was how Resa functioned. She obeyed orders but there was an air of defiance about the way she went about doing it. It was subtle gestures like the jut of her chin, the look in her eyes, the smile she gave Dafne before she walked away with a tray in her hands.

Mortola watched Resa go with a look of displeasure on her face. It was apparent that Capricorn favoured Resa out of all his maidservants. That was why she had been given the duty of fulfilling his most personal tasks such as dressing him in the mornings and evenings. Although Resa had done nothing to inspire this kind of attention, Mortola resented her nonetheless. The old woman seemed possessive of Capricorn but Dafne was not privy to the reason why. Even her feud with Basta appeared to be related to Capricorn.

Mortola turned back to her and eyed Dafne like a bird who had cornered a worm. But Dafne was determined not to wriggle. She didn't want to provoke Mortola but she certainly wasn't going to be cowed by her. Resa's company had given her a new confidence. Resa wasn't afraid of Mortola so why should she be. Let Basta be the one to cower from her. Dafne was going to be like Resa.

Then Mortola snapped at her, contemptuous as ever.

"Go to the church and serve lunch with the other girls."

Dafne latched on to a group of maidservants heading to the church. She noticed the subdued quality of women as they walked together in a protective gaggle. A broad-shouldered woman with red hair and a fierce expression led them. Mortola called her Orlanda and she seemed to be old woman's underling. She heaved her bulk forward with an energy that was lacking amongst her charges. They clustered about her like a mother hen.

Dafne felt sorry for them. How long had they been here, these women who had the trepidation of mice? These poor women looked down instead of up. Some were younger than she was. As they reached the church, Dafne could hear the sound of masculine voices and saw the justification for their sombre mood. They were about to enter a lair of wolves like a procession of lambs. Orlanda scowled and threw the doors open for the women to scuttle inside. Their entrance was greeted by a chorus of shouts from the men seated at the two long tables.

With an orderliness that must come with routine, the women began dishing out portions to the men who promptly began devouring their share like a pack of ravenous dogs. Dafne followed the example of the others, making it a point not to make any eye contact with any of the men she served. Orlanda supervised the proceedings from a distance with her arms folded. She was there at Mortola's appointment but her sharp looks didn't deter any of the men from subjecting the woman to their various forms of vulgarity.

The women put up with their verbal heckling as though it was part of their service but shied away from any physical contact, some even casting a fearful glance at Orlanda who glared disapprovingly back at them. It seemed that her reason for being there was to keep the women from interacting with the men, not the other way around. Dafne ignored any crudeness aimed at her, but then the sound of a familiar voice made her pause. She looked over to see Cockerell grinning at her, his goateed face recognisable amidst the rest of the black-clad rabble,

"Knew I'd see you sooner or later," he crowed. He held out his plate and Dafne grudgingly filled it, "This is the one I told you about, the one we brought in the other night" he told his companions through mouthfuls.

Dafne felt several sets of swarm over her.

"How's your face, Cockerell," she said, "Did you tell your friends about that too?"

The smile vanished from Cockerell's face as the men around him began to laugh.

"Yeah, Cockie, you never told us what happened to your face."

"Don't tell us this little darling had anything to do with it."

"Shut your faces!" roared Cockerell, "It was Basta. The idiot. I'll get him one of these days. He may think he's Capricorn's golden boy but that time is coming to an end. Basta isn't what he is used to be. He don't light fires anymore and he only uses that stupid knife of his for threatening people. It's been ages since he's actually killed someone. He gets me and Flattie to do all the dirty work for him. It's not going be long before Capricorn gets wise to him and when he does, I'll be there to take his place. See how he likes that..."

Dafne used the diversion of Cockerell's tirade to slip away from the men. The mutual dislike between Cockerell and Basta had become clear to her during her arrival to the village and it seemed that man's claims were more a product of his wounded pride than the truth. Dafne had no reason to doubt how dangerous Basta was. She remembered the touch of his knife on her skin and how quickly Basta had turned his weapon on Cockerell. This was enough to know that the man was fully capable of rendering harm. Besides, the last she had seen Basta, it had been at Capricorn's side and this seemed to reaffirm his status as his second-in-command more than anything else.

Dafne moved down the table, her thoughts making her deaf to the din around her. Suddenly her path was blocked and she snapped out of her reverie to find a boy standing in front of her.

"I remember you," he said and she saw that he was the one from the night before. The one Basta had spoken with. "You're new."

"Yes I am," she said, "You're Silvio."

"That's right."

The boy smiled and Dafne couldn't detect any malicious in it. It seemed earnest, almost friendly. His face was still dirty and Dafne noticed a bruise on his cheek that she didn't recall being there the first time she had seen him. His face was framed by a mop of unruly curls and gave him the appearance of a scruffy dog. He looked harmless to Dafne, but given the circumstances she couldn't evaluate his character solely on face value.

Even the most eager stray could be unpredictable and this boy belonged to a fraternity of criminals who had enslaved her. The black uniform he wore was a reminder of that. Still she couldn't deny the fact that he reminded her of a street urchin, one that could have been conjured out of the pages of a Dickens novel.

He was presently eyeing the contents of her tray,

"Can I have some meat?"

He had no plate but she held it out to him regardless. As he grabbed a handful off the tray, she bit back a remark about hygiene. Then to her bewilderment, she watched him stow the meat in the pocket of his pants.

"Are you saving that for later?" she asked in surprise.

The boy flushed.

"No, I'm goin' to give it to the dogs," he told her in confidential tones, "Um, but don't tell anyone cause I'm not supposed to."

Dafne hadn't expected his answer to be charity.

"There are dogs here? Strays?"

"Sometimes there are, but I meant the guard dogs," Silvio said brightly, "They're German shepherds. Basta trained them."

"Basta trained them?" said Dafne incredulously. She couldn't envision Basta as a dog-trainer

"Yeah he trained them real good. I mean, he beats them sometimes," He said uneasily but after seeing Dafne's shocked expression, added insistently, "But not a lot anymore, only when they don't do what he tells them."

Dafne shouldn't have been surprised to learn that Basta dealt with dogs in such a brutal fashion, but the thought still appalled her. Given the boy's discomfort, it seemed that he didn't condone Basta's actions anymore than she did. It stood to reason that a boy who was smuggling out food of his own volition to feed the creatures wasn't going to espouse Basta's methods no matter how he tried to justify it.

Yet she could understand why the boy might be reluctant to express disagreement with the way Basta did things. He didn't look as though he would present much of a challenge to Basta if he did. However, she recalled the manner in which the two had conversed the other night. The familiarity in the way they addressed each other. Cockerell had sneered at it.

But whatever reason that motivated Silvio to defend Basta, she couldn't blame him for how Basta chose to punish disobedient dogs. She looked at the boy, who was now shifting uncomfortably and modified the subject,

"Do they have names, these dogs?" She asked him.

His face lit up with fresh enthusiasm, seeming grateful of the change in conversation,

"Remo and Rodolfo. That's what I called them. They didn't have names before that."

"They're good names," said Dafne, smiling, "Maybe I'll see them sometime."

"I could take you to meet them if you like," Silvio offered without hesitation, "They don't like strangers much but if I was there, it would be okay."

"I'll remember that," Dafne paused, eyeing the welt on the side of the boy's face, "Can I ask you, how you got that bruise?"

Silvio looked taken aback at the question, "Oh this one?" he reached up to cover it with his hand, "Just a misunderstanding is all. One of guys and me don't see eye to eye."

He spoke casually if nature of how he received his injury wasn't particularly significant. His words were accompanied with a dismissive shrug.

"So he hit you?" Dafne was unaccustomed hearing such things being spoken of so lightly. Was this normal occurrence in Capricorn's village?

"Um, yeah." Her concern seemed to embarrass him and he laughed to conceal it. He shot her a grin full of bravado and in return, she managed a weak smile. She sympathised with this boy, the one with dirty-face and Botticelli curls, who lived in this world where disputes were settled by fists.

"Hey Silvio, you little runt!" A voice reached them over all the rest. It was Cockerell, "You're supposed to be washing my car! Get your scrawny arse out of here!"

Silvio flinched. He looked at Dafne disappointedly,

"I gotta go," he told her.

"That's alright," she said but deep down she regretted having to see the boy's depart so soon.

Silvio took off at a brisk jog before whirling around a moment later and calling out to her across the room,

"Wait, I don't know your name."

"Dafne!" She called back.

"Right!"

He waved at her and she watched as he flew past the irritable Orlanda and through the church doors where he was swallowed up by the bright sunlight streaming in from outside.

Lunch concluded and party of women came to clean the church while Dafne's group balanced stacks of dirty plates back to Capricorn's house. Upon entering the kitchen, Dafne was surprised to catch sight of Basta and Resa standing in a corner together. Basta was speaking in a voice so low that she couldn't hear what he was saying but his expression was agitated and Resa was glaring at him with undisguised anger. The other maidservants passed the scene without taking any notice and went about their business, acting as though it wasn't happening. Orlanda took one look at the two and left the kitchen no sooner than she had come in.

Dafne set her plates down on the nearly bench and approached them. Resa saw her coming and waved her hand in a gesture to stop. Dafne halted but didn't retreat. It wasn't long before Basta's voice began to get louder and his words reached her ears. There was an undercurrent of menace in his voice,

"You'll have Dustfinger but won't have me. What can he give you that I can't? He couldn't give you something as fine as this…

Dafne gasped as she caught sight the necklace belonging to the late Signora Beatrice. Basta held it out only to have Resa knock his hand away with her own. The necklace flew to the floor. A flash of fury crossed Basta's face and he seized Resa's arm, pulling her towards him. Dafne instantly began moving towards them. Basta was yelling, his face thrust up against Resa's,

"Think you're too good for me, you snotty woman! You've been giving yourself airs ever since the day Darius read you out for Capricorn. You're going pay for refusing me, Resa. I'm going to make sure of that!"

Dafne launched herself between them, "Let go of her!"

Momentarily stunned by Dafne's action, Basta pushed her away with little effort. She fell backwards, grabbing hold of Resa who was already thrashing around trying to free herself from Basta's grip.

"What is going on here?" Mortola's shrill voice erupted into the room. The three of them ceased struggling. The old woman hurtled into the room like an impending asteroid with Orlanda close behind her, "Basta, let go of her!"

Basta released Resa, pushing her away in disgust. The force caused the two women to stumble back, grasping each other. Without a word, he stalked out of the kitchen. Mortola took no notice of Basta's exit. She was looking down her beak-like nose at Resa.

"Well, Resa, you always seem to attract more attention than your worth," she said with a nasty smugness in her voice. It seemed that catching Resa in the middle of being assaulted was some kind of gratification to her, "Although Basta's attention is hardly anything to crow about. He'd fall in love with any maidservant if he thought they'd have him. He's a weak-minded fool."

Dafne became aware of the dampness around her eyes and realised that she was crying. She hastily wiped them away. Resa was dry-eyed and composed. She looked as defiant as ever.

"But it's not Basta who concerns me," Mortola continued, "It's that fire-eating tramp you've become so friendly with. You should know that Capricorn is not a man who enjoys sharing his possessions. So if I ever catch you sneaking around with that gypsy, I'll take both of you to Capricorn so I can watch you burn in a fire of your own making."

Mortola turned to Dafne with a sneer,

"You should choose your friends more carefully girl. You might think that because Capricorn likes you that you can go and involve yourself in trouble. But believe me I don't think he would mind that much if you just happened to ingest a fatal dose of deadly nightshade with your morning porridge. Not when there are plenty of other girls he can amuse himself with. Now get back to work, the two of you."

The old woman stormed off, her threats looming in the air like a bad odour she had left behind. Resa smiled at Dafne. Her smile was full of reassurance and gratitude. Dafne smiled back. In her mind, Mortola's words got dimmer but didn't fade away completely. She remembered the necklace and saw it gleaming on the floor. She bent down and picked it up, glad that Mortola had not seen it and snatched it up like a bowerbird. She held it in her hands like piece of treasure. This necklace cherished by one woman, failing to woo another. Resa looked at her quizzically.

"I'll tell you later," Dafne told her. Resa nodded in agreement, pressing a finger to her lips. They had so much to share with one another but this was Mortola's domain and even after she had gone, her influence lingered. So the two women busied themselves with dirty dishes and other chores and waited for a time when they could correspond in private.

To Be Continued…