Miner

As Genoa regained its freedom, Milan's influence shrank dramatically. Albizzi had achieved his initial military objective, so he slowed his advance and planned to stay in Genoa for a while.

The ideal outcome was for Venice to defeat Milan's army on its own, after which the expeditionary force could join them and easily divide up the spoils of victory.

On May 9, militia began gathering in Genoa. The city council claimed they were there to maintain public order, but in reality, they were preparing for Florence. Albizzi worried the locals might renege on their deal, so he firmly refused to withdraw beyond the city walls. Instead, he stationed his mercenaries by the Porta di Sant'Andrea on the eastern side. For a while, neither side openly broke with the other; they cautiously maintained a fragile balance.

As the days passed, the expeditionary force grew accustomed to Genoa's easy living, and the mercenaries spent their days carousing around the city. Genoa paid them a thank-you fee, and before long, that money found its way back into local shops, helping commerce recover.

"Lucca, La Spezia, and the noble estates along the way brought the expeditionary force a handsome income. Now it's all been spent in Genoa. For most of the mercenaries, this campaign was a waste of time."

Vitus kept to his usual frugal ways. Instead of splashing out, he wandered aimlessly through the city, observing and recording the number of shops, the volume of traffic through the port, and all sorts of miscellaneous details.

In early June, Vitus had explored the entire city, yet the governor still hadn't sent out the troops. Supposedly, they would stay another month, until the decisive battle between Venice and Milan was over.

"That's fine by me. Free food and drink every day, plus a handsome salary. You don't come across a deal like this often."

Eventually, Vitus tired of the city's sights. One day, Conan and Piero were ordered to go to the silver mine in the northern suburbs to collect a payment. Vitus was bored out of his mind, so he decided to tag along and see what happened.

After leaving the north gate, the party turned onto a mountain path on the right. The warm scent of wild thyme lingered in the air. The sky was blue, with a few wisps of cloud hanging lazily on the horizon like shreds of torn wool.

Now and then, they came across a caravan of mules and horses, or a weary pilgrim leaning on a wooden staff. As they climbed higher, the woods on either side grew sparser, leaving only a few low oak and beech trees.

Higher up, the view opened out. Broad slopes lay bare, strewn with rocks. Scattered flocks of sheep wandered nearby, nibbling grass from between the stones. The bells beneath their necks jingled, their clear, unhurried notes ringing out in lonely solitude.

An abandoned castle stood on the mountaintop. Its family had died out twenty years ago, and the Genoan council had put the property up for sale at thirty thousand florins, but no buyer had ever come forward.

Piero spat. "Thirty thousand florins. The city council's gone mad with greed. The land around here can't be farmed, and no one would buy it even at half price. They'd be better off buying property in the Holy Roman Empire. It's cheaper and better value."

After crossing the summit, they descended gradually. They camped outdoors for the night and reached the valley where the mine was located around noon the next day.

The valley floor was covered with rows of shacks. The roads were a quagmire, and several filthy, fat pigs rolled around happily in the mud, drawing a swarm of flies.

Piero covered his nose and, carrying a document, found the mine supervisor. "Get a move on. Don't waste our time!"

The supervisor checked the signature and seal at the bottom of the document, then opened the storehouse doors and had the workers carry out box after box of silver ingots to be counted in public. The two hundred mercenaries involved came from different companies and kept watch over one another, so there was no farce of anyone scrambling to seize the silver.

Vitus looked around. Numerous mine shafts dotted the right side of the valley, with the clanging of pickaxes rising one after another. Sometimes, workers pushed carts out of the shafts and tipped the ore beside the river.

The next stage was crushing the ore. The river turned a huge wooden wheel beside the bank, and the wheel drove an axle that kept a heavy iron hammer pounding. Workers placed the ore in a hollow, waited for the hammer to smash it, then sent it off to be smelted.

The furnace used the traditional cupellation process. Silver ore and lead were smelted together, and after passing through several stages, the liquid silver was separated and poured into molds to form ingots.

Prolonged exposure to lead was harmful to the body. Vitus frowned and walked away. "The working conditions at this mine are terrible. You'd be better off farming back home."

Vitus followed the muddy road to the edge of the mining settlement. There stood the cleanest, tidiest building in the area: a stone church dedicated to Saint Barbara, the patron saint of miners. A dozen or so miners knelt on the floor, whispering their prayers in a language other than Italian—the Greek Vitus knew best.

"Why leave home to dig in a mine in Genoa?"

Vitus muttered under his breath and turned to leave the church. But a Greek miner came hurrying after him and clung to him. "My lord, are you a Roman too?"

(Note: After the fall of the Western Roman Empire, the Eastern Roman Empire continued to uphold the cultural identity of "Roman." Although its official language changed from Latin to Greek, Greek commoners still considered themselves the rightful descendants of the Roman Empire.)

"Yes. I'm currently a mercenary for Florence. I was ordered to come to the mine and collect the silver ingots stored in the warehouse."

When Vitus admitted who he was, the miners seized on him like a drowning man grabbing a lifeline. They knelt and begged for help. They came from Attica, the region where Athens was located. The Genoans had originally hired them as sailors and apprentices, offering very favorable terms. But after they disembarked, they were inexplicably dumped at the mine. Supposedly, they had to work for five years before their contracts ended...

After enduring two years, the miners couldn't bear to stay any longer. This young man had an air of distinction, and was most likely from a noble family. He also wore the finest armor, so he ought to be wealthy enough to buy out their contracts.

"My lord, I know how to use a sword. I can be a bodyguard." A miner named Marcus pushed to the front, touting his skills.

A sword?

Vitus looked him up and down but couldn't find a trace of a master swordsman's air about him. Ah, well. Let's say the lord was kindhearted and did a good deed.

Vitus led them to the mine supervisor. The remaining Greek miners came running as soon as they heard the news. They too fell to their knees, begging the kindhearted fool to help them.

The supervisor produced a thick register and flipped to the middle. "Lord Doukas, there are a hundred and five surviving Greek miners. To end their contracts early, you'll need to pay a penalty. Even after deducting their wages, you'll still owe two thousand one hundred florins. Are you sure?"

Vitus worried that word would spread and bring even more people running over. He hurriedly asked Piero to pay the money for him, promising to pay him back once they returned.

After that, Vitus hurried to the edge of the town, seeking some peace and quiet. "Just one sentence, and I've paid 7,350 grams of gold. That's 'a thousand gold pieces for a single word,' in a way. If I'd known, I'd have kept my mouth shut."