Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [260]
Gallus shrugged. "No mind." He waited until all were assembled and settled, and then raised his voice. "My lords—and ladies!" He bowed mockingly. "I am Gallus Tadius da Lucca, and I claim authority over this city. Does anyone here contest me?"
No one did.
I watched their faces as Gallus spoke. Most were filled with a fierce hope. They wanted him to lead them. They hung on his words as he outlined the beginning of plan. He spoke stirringly of sacrifice. He spoke of Lucca's defenses; its high walls, its deep wells. He spoke of hoarding stores and rationing food; of impending winter and the difficulty of feeding a mercenary army.
"All we have to do is outlast them," he said.
He spoke of our enemy, and there were things I learned. Domenico Martelli, the Duke of Valpetra, lived, one-handed and bitter. His hired army was under the command of a condottiere, Silvanus the Younger.
"I don't know him," Gallus allowed. "But condottieri are sensible men. It may be we can turn him for a bribe." At that, Claudia stirred. He raised a hand, forestalling any comment. "We'll need to find a discreet way of communicating with him. There are ways such things are done, and I know them. But first and foremost, we need to be prepared to deal with him from a position of strength."
I had to own, most of what he said made sense. Gallus Tadius had led a fair number of sieges in his day. He knew what was necessary to withstand one. He gave orders that every household was to conduct a thorough inventory and report the findings to him. Food stored in merchants' warehouses would be seized for future distribution. Armorers' stocks would be allocated at his discretion. And from this day forward, every man of fighting age was automatically inducted into the service of Lucca.
"You are the Red Scourge!" he roared, pointing at us.
Most of the men cheered. I felt it, the stir of martial pride. Yesterday, I might have cheered, too. I'd been caught up in our defense of the city. But yesterday, Gilot was alive. Today was different. I gazed at faces flushed with eager fury, and wondered.
The remainder of Gallus' orders were less stirring. He announced that Lucca was under a state of martial law. Any man refusing to serve would be executed as a traitor. Anyone, man or woman, who sought to leave the city by any means would be executed as a traitor. And then there was the harvest. In the fertile plain of Lucca, a good portion of the year's crops had yet to be harvested. The wheat was half gathered, while grapes yet ripened on the vine and entire groves of olive trees were unready to drop their bounty.
"It's a tricky matter," he admitted, scratching his chin. "We'll have to try to find a way to set fire to them."
At that, there were a few protests. I saw Claudia and Deccus exchange a glance.
"Gallus Tadius." Deccus Fulvius cleared his throat and stood. "Are you sure this is wise? Those olive groves have stood for hundreds of years. Surely there is a better way to save the city than by destroying its greatest resources."
Gallus shrugged. "It is a resource that will sustain our enemy. An army travels on its belly, Deccus Fulvius. We have no choice. Once Valpetra is defeated, we will replant and rebuild."
There were other arguments, but in the end, he swayed them. It was a remarkable thing to behold. He did it single-handedly, rousing their ardor and passion. There was a great deal of hatred toward the Duke of Valpetra in the basilica that day, and he used it to good effect. I sat and listened, remembering how well Lucius had always argued in Master Piero's classes, and wondered if some of his influence was present. Or mayhap the old condottiere had been a gifted orator himself, and passed his gift on to his great-grandson.
Or mayhap it was the presence of the dead among us. I could not say.
Indeed, for my part, I said nothing. None of us did. There was little, at this point, to be said. In truth, I'd not intended to speak out at the conclave. I wanted to know what Gallus Tadius was planning, and I suspected Claudia's motive