Continuing from the last Cut Scene:
Quartesolo derived its name from the Latin quartum milium solum, meaning "fourth mile", as it stood four miles from Vicenza down the ancient Roman via Emilia which linked Vicenza and Padua. The Roman mile measured 1477 meters, the equivalent of 1500 Roman soldier paces, exactly one quarter the distance from this spot to Vicenza. The city was asleep and easily subdued. Ponzino gave strict orders against pillaging. The men of the Paduan army were being paid – well paid. There was no need for plunder. The Podestà‘s goal was to be welcomed into Vicenza with open arms. If he forbade the unsavory behavior knights were notorious for, made them behave as knights ought, perhaps he could win over the people.
After taking Quartesolo it was merely a matter of waiting for the scouts to return. The three young cavilieres rode brazenly up the road from Quartesolo to Vicenza. When they reached the foot of the hill where the Podestà and his companions waited, they dismounted and strode up to greet them. Vinciguerra thought he saw a spring in their step. The same young Carrara who had baited him earlier didn’t wait for a greeting. "There’s no guard. None. The outer walls around S. Pietro are completely unguarded. The double gates are shut, but that’s all."
Ponzino stared wide-eyed, his expansive face otherwise expressionless. It was Marsilio’s uncle who spoke.
"Do you think it’s a ruse?" asked Giacomo il Grande. "Do they have an army inside?"
"They can’t," Marsilio replied. "We rode on the hill to the north of the suburb. There is no where for an army to be hiding."
"What about the main gates to the city?" Vanni asked.
The della Torre burst in. "Too far to see without being spotted. I did suggest we climb the walls and take a look, but I got outvoted. I thought Florence was the only working democracy," he muttered.
Asdente snorted. "Democracy doesn’t work," he said. "One look at Florence would tell you that."
Vinciguerra, though, had latched on to something the della Torre had said. He looked at Marsilio. "Are they scalable?"
The boy disliked being addressed by a Veronese. "The walls? I guess… yes, the outer ones, they’re only twenty feet high."
Vinciguerra looked at the Podestà. Ponzino returned the look. "What do you have in mind, my lord Count?"
It took only a few moments to outline his plan. When he was finished the elder Carrara was nodding, a smile across his lips. "I like it," Giacomo il Grande said, giving his seal of approval.
"I don’t," his nephew objected. "It could be a trap. He could be handing us over to the Scaliger." But no one paid him an heed, which seemed the best way to deal with the boy.
Vanni Scorigiani was looking at the Count of S. Bonifacio. "You’re not serious. We could have those gates down in an hour."
Vinciguerra smiled. "I’ll have them open for you in half that."
