...and when I asked Vino
about the past events that he eluded to, his face grew quite flat. I thought
at first that I had
angered him and feared the
interview might be over already. Then he sighed, deeply, like a man suddenly
fallen under
some great burden.
“It's hard
to know where to begin”, he said, “so much has happened since I left the
Eternal City. There are some
things that cannot be said
even now, so let's just say...that as a young man I worked in the family
business..."
We were one
of the few family-run guilds in those days, we were. The wine sellers guild.
And my side of the family
handled the...more troublesome
aspects of business. Sometimes a shopkeeper might find our prices a little
too steep for
his tastes or a rival family
might try to undersell ours in, say, some of the back-alley taverns. That
kind of thing,
when...persuasion...is needed.
You understand? So I hadn't been in the business long before I realized
that the
guild master, my grandfather,
was doing his best to keep me out of the messier side of the business.
Well naturally,
being rather hot-headed
and zealous for the family, I objected. But, no avail. I found myself tending
the books and
guarding wagons more often
than not. I didn't realize that it was no slight on my manhood as I perceived
it. He just
didn't want to see me fall
to the same fate as so many of my brothers and cousins. My father had died
mysteriously in a brothel downtown, you see, and grandfather had taken
me in as his own son. But I stewed and fumed and generally
made a nuisance of myself
to him anyway.
Now this went
on for about a year before we began having some serious trouble with an
outfit out of Blackvine and
Vetallun. It seems that
they had made some strong connections with the constabulary in Iridine
and were trying to
muscle Grandpa out. We went
to the shacks with them...that is, we hid out in the shacks downtown and
went to war
with them...and were holding
our own pretty well. But the connies they had on their side tipped the
scales in their favor, you know. By spring my grandfather was in the hospice,
having taken a dagger in the back from some bastard
journeyman, and three of
my uncles were dead. So when they offered to meet with us they asked for
me specifically.
I was the perfect choice,
you see, having no reputation as an enforcer or for violence and being
so close to grandfather.
Of course, the others resisted
and argued, ‘cause they figured I was green and would probably agree to
anything.
Seeing as how grandfather
was out of action they would have been honor-bound to comply with any agreement
I
accepted for the family.
But I won through and enforced a temporary cease-fire, offering to meet
in neutral territory. The Stone Toga, as a matter of fact.
At the meeting
were Jalicus, the constable ring-leader, and Markin Vatta, the son of Pilladen,
grandfather of the
Vetallun “guild”. We drank
a few bottles of good wine. We talked of troubles with upstart sugar guilds.
We even
exchanged family lineages.
And when I noticed Jalicus’ eyes glazed from drink I slit his throat with
my boot-dagger and staked Markin’s head to the table with his own gladius.
I had to make a name for myself, you see, if I were to have any
hope of moving up in the
business.
Now with the
murder of a well-known constable, no matter how corrupt, under my belt
I was of no further use to the guild. My last surviving uncle, Cantilicus
Netra, set me up in a little village in Cineria until things cooled down.
Well, I don't
need to draw it out, I guess. I was unable to return home after the war
broke out and had married a good woman in Cineria, anyway. Grandfather
sent word to stay put. (And that I had broken his heart by involving myself
so intimately in messy family business.) I had my own little vineyard and
two small children, Galina and Hardicus. Things were good, you know? But
despite my grandfather's best attempts to make peace between me and the
rival guild, they tracked me down. I wont speak of that. My children are
dead now, both of them. Caught in the house while it burned. My wife was
burned as well, rather badly, but survived. That's why I'm here now, you
see. That was my wife's desire. Vengeance.
She is still
there now, tending the vineyard. Waiting for me to come home with head
of Pilladen Vatta in a sack. The
guild master of the new
wineseller’s guild, you know. And I will, its just a matter of time. My
family has disowned me,
you know, no admirers of
private vengeance, they. But that's all right. They are too weak now and
I need freedom to do what I must do. When I return with his head and and
stake it in the field for the crows my wife’ll have her vengeance.
And I will, too."
We didn't speak much after
that. We sipped our wine and he commented on the vintage. A good year,
apparently. I think he appreciated
the silence just then. At least, I hope so. I could certainly think of
nothing to say. He
still frequents the Toga
when not improving his skills with the gladius. Pilladen Vatta is said
to have been a great
warrior in his day, you
understand, and well-skilled in the gladius.
But somehow I think it wont help him at all. No, not one bit.