The Second Empire Read Online Free PDF

days, they would be gnawing on roots and berries by now.
    “How many today then?” he asked.
    “Two,” di Souza told him. “Miriam di—”
    “I don’t need to know their names!” Sequero snapped. “That leaves us with, what? Eighty-odd? Still plenty. Thank God the soldiers and sailors are made of sterner stuff. Sergeant Berrino, how are the men?”
    “Bearing up well, sir. A good move to let them doff their armour, if I might say so. And Garolvo’s party brought in three boar this morning.”
    “Excellent. A good man that Garolvo. He must be the best shot we have. Gentlemen, we are in a hellish place, but it belongs to our king now and we must make the best of it. Make no mistake, there will be promotions when the Governor returns from his expedition. Fort Abeleius may not be much to look at now, but in a few years there will be a city here, with church bells, taverns and all the trappings of civilisation.”
    His listeners were dutifully attentive to his words, but he could almost taste their scepticism. They had been ashore two and a half months now, and Sequero knew well that the Governor was popularly believed to be long dead, or lost somewhere in the teeming jungle. He and his party had been away too long, and with his absence the discontent and fear within the fort was growing week by week. Increasingly, both soldiers and civilians were of the opinion that nothing would ever come of this precarious foothold upon the continent, and the Dweomer-folk were ready to brave even the pyres that awaited in Abrusio rather than suffer the death by disease and malnutrition that was claiming so many of them. At times Sequero felt as though he was swimming against an irresistible tide of sullen resentment which would one day overwhelm him.
    “Ensign di Souza, how many of the ship’s guns have we ashore now?”
    “Six great culverins and a pair of light sakers, sir, all sited to command the approaches. That sailor, Velasca, he wants to complain to you personally about it. He says the guns are the property of Captain Hawkwood and should remain with the ship.”
    “Let him put it in writing,” said Sequero, who like all the old school of noblemen could not read. “Gentlemen, you are dismissed. All but you, di Souza. I want a word. Sergeant Berrino, you may distribute a ration of wine tonight. The men deserve it—they have worked hard.”
    Berrino, a middle-aged man with a closed, thuggish face, brightened. “Why thank you, sir—”
    “That is all. Leave us now.”
    The two soldiers clambered down the ladder that was affixed to one leg of the watchtower, leaving Sequero and di Souza alone in their eyrie.
    “Do have some wine, Valdan,” Sequero said easily, and gestured to the bulging skin that hung from a nearby peg.
    “Thank you, sir.” Di Souza squirted a goodly measure of the blood-warm liquid down his throat and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. They had been equals in rank, these two young men, until landfall here in the west. Murad had then promoted Hernan Sequero to haptman, making him military commander of the little colony. The choice had been inevitable: di Souza was noble only by adoption, whereas Sequero was from one of the high families of the kingdom, as close by blood to the Royal house as Murad himself. The fact that he was illiterate and did not know one end of an arquebus from another was neither here nor there.
    “The Governor’s party has been away almost eleven weeks,” Sequero told his subordinate. “Within another week or two they should return, with God’s grace. In all that time we here have been cowering behind our stockade as if we were under siege. That has to change. I have seen nothing in this country which warrants this absurd defensive posture. Tomorrow I will order the colonists to start marking out plots of land in the jungle. We’ll slash and burn, clear a few acres and see if we can’t get some crops planted. If things work out, then some of the colonists can be