"A mission," the captain repeated. They had gone
outside and were leaning against a wall in the sun, each with his jug
in his hand, watching people and carriages pass by on Calle Toledo.
Saldaña looked at him a moment, stroking the thick beard sprinkled with
the gray of an old soldier, grown to hide a slash that went from his
mouth to his left ear.
"You have been out of prison only a few hours and you
haven't a coin in your purse," he said. "Before two days pass, you will
have accepted some paltry employ, escorting some conceited young
peacock to prevent his beloved's brother from running him through on a
street corner or slicing off a man's ears on behalf of a creditor. Or
you will start hanging around in bawdy and gaming houses to see what
you can extract from strangers or a priest who's come to wager San Eufrasio's knucklebone. Before you know it, you will be in trouble: a
bad wound, a quarrel, a charge against you. And then it will start all
over again." He took a small sip from his jar and half closed his eyes,
though he never took them off the captain. "Do you call that living?"
Diego Alatriste shrugged. "Can you think of something
better?" He stared directly into the eyes of his old comrade from
Flanders. The look said, We do not all have the good fortune to be a
Saldaña picked his teeth with a fingernail and nodded a
couple of times. They both knew that were it not for the twists and
turns of fate, Saldaña could easily be in the same situation as the
captain. Madrid was filled with former soldiers scraping a living in
the streets and plazas, their belts stuffed with tin tubes in which
they carried their wrinkled recommendations and petitions, and the
useless service records that no one gave a fig about. Waiting for a
stroke of luck that never came.
"That is why I have come, Diego. There is someone who
"Me? Or my sword?" He twisted his mustache with that
grimace that passed as a smile.
Saldaña burst out laughing. "What an idiotic question,"
he said. "There are women who are interesting for their charms, priests
for their absolutions, old men for their money. . . . As for men like
you and me, it is only our swords." He paused to look in both
directions, took another swallow of wine, and spoke more quietly.
"These are people of quality. An easy evening's work, with no risks but
the usual ones. And for doing it, there is a handsome purse."
The captain observed his friend with interest. At that
moment, the word "purse" would have roused him from the deepest sleep
or the most excruciating hangover.
"Some sixty escudos. In good four-doubloon
"Not bad." The pupils narrowed in Diego Alatriste's
light eyes. "Is killing involved?"
Saldaña made an evasive gesture, looking furtively
toward the door of the tavern.
"Perhaps, but I do not know the details. And I do not
want to know, if you get my meaning. All I know is that it is to be an
ambush. Something discreet, at night, with your face covered and all
that. 'Greetings and godspeed, señores!'"
British Parliament asks Amazon to clarify why it pays $9 million in income tax on $23 billion of UK sales.(May 20 2013) Amazon will be called back to give further evidence to members of the British Parliament "to clarify how its activities in the U.K. justify its low corporate...