Sun Spots (short story collection)

Arquebus

Author's Note - My entry for Round One of ChallengeCorners GrandPrix contest

Theme - action

Prompt - Beretta and the picture opposite

517 words (limit 800)

Arquebus 

A sea fog was drifting in over the canals, slinking around buildings, muffling the creaking of oars coming from the canal ahead. The saltwater smell competed with the odour of ripe sewerage. Venice might well shine like the jewel of the Adriatic in bright sunshine, but at night, it stank. 

Conte Giovanni Rizo pushed his cloak back from his head so that he could hear better, and slid his hand lovingly along the barrel of his brand new musket. Well, matchlock arquebus if one wanted to be pedantic. He smiled. Last night, the armoury at the Arsenale di Venezia had held 185 of these weapons, newly commissioned from Maestro Bartolomeo Beretta, in Lombardy. Now, there were 184. 

He felt a flash of pride that the barrel had been made here, in Italy. Pride that an Italian weapon was going to rid Venice of the traitor. He shuffled his feet ever so slightly, making sure his body hadn't stiffened in the cold. He had to be patient, his target was still too far away. He remembered sourly that he had once admired the Doge, Andrea Gritti. In the early years of the sixteenth century, he had led the Venetian army to a glorious victory over the Cambrian League to reclaim Padua, but since then, he had turned his coat, siding with the French. Betraying the men who had died fighting them. 

The boats were drawing closer. The first and last were filled with men-at-arms, ready to fend off any assault by water. He could see the shadow of the Doge seated in the stern of the middle boat, heavily muffled in thick robes to keep out the damp. 

Very carefully he squeezed the lever, priming the weapon. He held it steady with both hands, aiming at the Doge as a burst of flame and heat exploded from the mouth of the gun. Eeee! A man screamed like a stuck pig. Others shouted wildly, the boat rocking as men scrambled to their feet and a splash as somebody went overboard. 

Not waiting to see the results of his ambush, Rizo turned to flee down the passage, stumbling in the dark, his night sight ruined by the flash from the gun. He smelt his pursuer before he heard him. A wet hand grabbed his coat from behind and spun him around. All he could see was a dark shape, an arm raised and then the brief flash of a silver blade before it buried itself in his side. Cold steel sliced through coat, skin and muscle, spurting blood onto the flagstones as Rizo staggered back, striking blindly at his assailant with his gun barrel. The man reeled from the force of the blow, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Rizo saw with horror that the man had another blade in his left hand. The blade plunged into his chest as he watched helplessly; he barely felt the strike, but it was enough to kill him.  

In his palace, the Doge poured himself another glass of wine. He wondered if the trap for his rival had been sprung yet.