“He lost an eye in the battle. That alone probably saved him, as testament to how hard he fought.” Giustiniani snorted. “For all the good it did him. Our scouts report he was flogged and stripped of all rank and authority. One of the pashas is in charge of the boats now. Not that it matters. We have nothing to fear from the sea.”
“But do the Venetians know that?” Cyprian asked. “They must have heard of the size of the Ottoman navy. How can we get word to them that they are guaranteed safe passage to the horn?”
Radu wished desperately that Lada were here. She would not be sad; she would not let this failure derail her. She would figure out a way to turn it to her advantage. She would use the enemies’ strength and confidence against them. Just as she had when they snuck into the palace under Halil Pasha’s nose, putting Mehmed in place to take the throne when his father died.
A flicker of delight lit Radu’s soul as he remembered that night, all Lada’s fierce Janissaries dressed in veils and silk robes, trying to walk like women so they could sneak past the watching guard. And then he knew exactly what Lada would do.
“Do you have any Ottoman flags?” he asked.
Everyone turned to him, puzzled. Orhan, a quiet, delicate man who wore a turban along with his Byzantine styles, nodded. “I have a supply of them.”
“What about uniforms?”
Constantine spoke. “We have over two hundred prisoners. They have no use of their uniforms in our dungeons.”
“Send out three boats tonight under cover of darkness. Small, unthreatening ones. I will teach their crews a few common greetings in Turkish. Have them fly the Ottoman flag and sail as close to the Ottoman galleys as they can.”
“Slip by in disguise.” Constantine tugged at his beard thoughtfully.
“Three small boats could get out where one large ship cannot. Task them with finding the aid we need, and then they can return, heralding the ships that will follow so we can be prepared to welcome them.”
Giustiniani stretched in his chair, leaning back. “It is a good plan. Coco, select the men. They leave tonight.”
The Italian captain nodded. Orhan excused himself to get the flags, and Giustiniani went to find suitable uniforms.
“Well done.” Cyprian beamed at Radu.
Radu could not meet that smile full on, so he looked at the floor. He would not have time to send word to Mehmed. He did not need to, though. He wanted the boats to escape. Because if they could escape, they could return.
And when they did, Radu would have first warning of a Venetian force. Then he could warn Mehmed, and find some sort of redemption.
34
Mid-April
THIS TIME, STEFAN did not return alone from scouting. He walked with a peculiar guilt, slinking back into camp with a girl.
“What is this?” Lada barely glanced at the girl. “You were supposed to bring information on Silviu’s land and men.” Toma Basarab had sent them here first. Silviu did not have much in the way of soldiers, but he was a Danesti and in the path of all their future goals. They could not leave a close blood relative of the prince behind. Lada was to negotiate his support. If that was not possible, she was to place him under house arrest and leave precious men here to watch him. Toma Basarab would hear no arguments against it.
“Well?” she demanded.
Stefan shrugged, clearing his throat at the same time, as though he could force the words out. Lada had never seen him like this. Fear seized her—was he injured? She looked him up and down, but he did not appear harmed.
His face flushed a deep red. “She caught me.”
Lada finally looked at the girl. She was Lada’s height, perhaps younger than her, but not by much. She met Lada’s stare with a bold, unflinching one of her own. Her narrow jaw was set and her dark eyes burned. Rough cloth wrapped her hair, and her clothes seemed made for someone else. They hung all wrong on her body, loose in the shoulders and pulled tight across her stomach, which—
“Oh,” Lada said, frowning.
The girl’s hands jerked instinctively in front of her pregnant belly. Then she deliberately moved them away. “Caught your man spying. Told him I would turn him in unless he brought me here.”
Lada raised her eyebrows at Stefan. He shrank farther into his cloak. No one ever noticed him. He drifted invisibly, a weary traveler no one wanted. That was his entire purpose.
“Well.” Lada turned her attention back to the girl. “Here you are. What do you want?”
“You are that woman, right? I thought you would be taller. And older. You are very young.”
Lada gave her a heavy look. “I assume there are many women in this country. You will have to be more specific.”
“I heard rumors. You are staying with Toma Basarab. Took in men for soldiers. Peasants talk.”
Lada shifted uneasily. Thanks to Toma’s men—both his trained soldiers and the farmers they had conscripted—her ranks had swelled to over one hundred men. The peasants were poorly trained and poorly fed, but they had a gritty eagerness that could not be undervalued. And they did not eat much, which was good.
The girl leaned forward, burning with intensity. “Are you going to do that in more places? Take men for fighting the prince?”
“Yes,” Lada said.
“Good.” The girl’s hands fisted over her stomach. “I want the Danesti dead.”
It was a dangerous sentiment to voice aloud. Lada wondered at her daring. “Does your husband want to join? He should have come himself.”
The girl let out a harsh laugh, a burst of bitterness more than humor. “I have no husband. Tell her what you saw, Stefan.”
To Lada’s surprise, he followed the girl’s order without question. “Lots of girls. In the fields. Most—” He paused, then nodded toward the girl’s stomach. “Most like her.”
“And between us not a single husband. A few years ago we had a nasty bout of plague. Killed most of the boys. There weren’t enough men to work the fields. None to marry daughters to. So our loving Danesti boyar decided he would take care of us himself.” The girl paused, as though waiting for something. When Lada did not respond, she spoke again. “No husbands.” The girl glared at Lada for her stupidity. “No husbands, but all our babies are bastard cousins.”
Clarity finally caught Lada in its horrible grasp. “Oh.”
“So you will not find many men here to swell your ranks. Our boyar worm Silviu will agree with whatever you want because he is a coward, but he will betray you to the prince at the first opportunity. And he has nothing to offer. You should kill him. If not, then leave. These lands are a waste of your time.”
Lada felt anger rising within. “Why?”
“I told you, we have no men.”
“No. Why did you let this happen? Why did all of you let this happen?”
The girl’s face purpled with rage. “Let it happen? What choice did we have? We give ourselves or our families starve. What choice is there in that?”
“Does Silviu work the land?”
“No, of course not.”
“Does he tend the animals?”
“No.”
“Does he do a single thing that directly feeds you or your families?”
The girl looked as though she very much wanted to hit Lada. “He owns it. He owns it all.”
Lada paused, weighing her options. Then she shrugged. She would negotiate her own way. “Not anymore.”
They marched straight through the fields, past more than a dozen girls in the same condition as Daciana. The girls stood watching as the men passed. No one said anything.
Daciana walked next to Stefan’s horse. Lada could tell the girl made him nervous, which she found perversely delightful. She had once seen Stefan slit a man’s throat without blinking. That this pregnant slip of a girl could unnerve him when that had not was odd. Daciana talked softly to him. No one noticed Stefan until it was too late. But this girl had seen him, and would not stop seeing him.
Lada liked her.
An older woman ran from the middle of a field and caught up to them. She grabbed Daciana’s hand and halted her. Daciana leaned close, whispering. Apparently satisfied with Daciana’s explanation, the woman fell into step.