Sentence
The Sixhundredandfortieth
Giorgio's father was
bereft, alternately wailing at the terrible bloody murder done to his
beloved son, and violently promising to do worse to the perpetrators,
he was so agitated that after giving him time to stroke the poor
boy's head, Leslie sent him down to await the arrival of the Night
Guard, and this gave himself, the two Peters and Laszlo time to make
a quick search of the chamber for any clues the Scotchmen may have
left behind; the Landlord had already confirmed that their horses
were gone, but he did point to a chest they had left behind – it
seemed that they ordinarily travelled with a hired cart and driver
from one place to the next, but in their haste had clearly been
unable to find one. so had abandoned what they could not carry on
their own horses: the chest was filled with dresses, chemises and
petticoats, fine silks and brocades – and the schmatte which
Giorgio's body wore, though torn and bloody, had clearly been of good
make: "it's like he met with a juggernaut," said Laszlo,
his voice full of emotion – this was not the first dead body he had
seen, but the fact that the boy Giorgio had been one of their
Company, and a popular one at that, had made him take this murder
very personally, as had they all; Peter Boo, from his experience as a
solicitor in Edinburgh, was the most familiar with modern police
procedure and, though there was obviously no point in looking for
fingerprints or forensic evidence which would require 21st century
scientific analysis, he did conduct a systematic search, beginning
with the body of poor Giorgio: "here," he called to the
others, "my sense of smell is not so great, but tell me what you
can smell around his mouth, apart from the blood," and Laszlo
and Leslie bent over the body: "nutmeg!" said Laszlo,
positively, "yes,"
Peter replied, "that's what I
thought, I guess it's the mediaeval equivalent of Rohypnol," and
at the others' mystified expressions he explained: "it's called
the Date-Rape drug, add some to a drink and the subject
becomes unable to resist, and nutmeg has similar properties, in the
right amount, it's a hypnotic and psychedelic drug, poor Giorgio
would have been quite incapable in their hands, and he was so small,
my guess is they simply didn't give him enough and when he resisted,
yes, he did meet with a juggernaut and had no chance after that,"
and then he picked up a mortar and pestle which had rolled under the
bed and examined it carefully: "they prepared something here, I
can smell the nutmeg," and Peter Lorre sniffed, dabbed a finger
and licked it: "yes, I know this, I had it in America,
it's called yokeag, corn kernels dried and pulverised and mixed with maple syrup, but the nutmeg is unusual, maybe the yokeag helps disguise the flavour, if not the scent of the nutmeg," and Peter Boo added: "they must have been preparing a fresh batch, Christ they're professionals, I'll wager they have been doing this all along their journey, probably leaving a trail of victims behind them, though maybe not all dead, indeed, murder may only become necessary if the victim of their rape is too resistant, or screams! but either way, we are looking at serial rapists, who don't baulk at the taking of a human life, who will certainly strike again, and we have no idea of the direction they took!" and if the others thought his luculent analysis was surprisingly objective in the circumstances, they realised that this was the way he dealt with such horror so close to home; "Leslie," he asked, "can you spare me and Laszlo, we need to try to pick up their trail before they get too far," and Howard agreed, with a caveat: "remember there's a war on. you're probably safe in Lombardy, under the Duke's protection,
but if they're travelling south, please don't take any chance of falling into the wrong hands, we need you here, preferably alive! and the war probably gives them plenty of freedom - what government or local authority's going to worry about a missing child here or there, when armies are on the march dealing out death and destruction, not to mention gang rape, on their way?"
it's called yokeag, corn kernels dried and pulverised and mixed with maple syrup, but the nutmeg is unusual, maybe the yokeag helps disguise the flavour, if not the scent of the nutmeg," and Peter Boo added: "they must have been preparing a fresh batch, Christ they're professionals, I'll wager they have been doing this all along their journey, probably leaving a trail of victims behind them, though maybe not all dead, indeed, murder may only become necessary if the victim of their rape is too resistant, or screams! but either way, we are looking at serial rapists, who don't baulk at the taking of a human life, who will certainly strike again, and we have no idea of the direction they took!" and if the others thought his luculent analysis was surprisingly objective in the circumstances, they realised that this was the way he dealt with such horror so close to home; "Leslie," he asked, "can you spare me and Laszlo, we need to try to pick up their trail before they get too far," and Howard agreed, with a caveat: "remember there's a war on. you're probably safe in Lombardy, under the Duke's protection,
but if they're travelling south, please don't take any chance of falling into the wrong hands, we need you here, preferably alive! and the war probably gives them plenty of freedom - what government or local authority's going to worry about a missing child here or there, when armies are on the march dealing out death and destruction, not to mention gang rape, on their way?"
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