The Wager Read Online Free

and losses consumed people now. Wailing rose on all sides. He couldn’t ask anything; he didn’t want to intrude on strangers.
    His friends. They’d help, of course. He was already on the road to one’s home; it didn’t make sense to go back in the opposite direction to the castle for a horse. Besides, the brisk night air revived him. So he walked.
    But that brief distance turned long, after all. He followed country roads, from noble to noble the whole evening. The story was always the same: everyone had suffered losses. Workersdisappeared or injured. Flocks of sheep washed away. Crops destroyed by the saltwater. No one could help him—not now.
    Their indifference shocked him. If the tables were turned, he would never have treated any of them so callously. What was going on?
    Don Giovanni had no choice but to throw himself on the mercy of Don Alfinu. He was weary when he reached the old man’s castle.
    The servant Masu led him to Don Alfinu, who was just finishing his meal: a bowl of vermicelli with oil and garlic—a popular new dish—and a plate of raw sardine fillets under vinegar. The old man ate lightly, because he suffered from indigestion in the night. Don Giovanni remembered his belches and farts.
    â€œGood evening, sire,” said Don Giovanni, trying to keep his eyes off the food, which made his stomach clench. “I trust the wave left you without harm.”
    â€œDispense with the formalities. You’ve come with something to say—you’ve said it to everyone else already. Don’t think I don’t know. But I get to speak first. Do you realize how much money I’ve lent you in the past year?”
    Don Giovanni stared at the old man’s mouth. A fleck of silver stuck to his bottom lip. Sardine skin. It looked delicious. How could he be this hungry? He licked his own lip. “None, sire.”
    â€œYou brainless sot. I told you to keep a ledger.”
    â€œAnd I intend to. Soon.”
    Don Alfinu brought his open hand down on the table with a wham. “It’s too late now. How many spectacles did you think you could host? You’re not the king, you know. You’re not a duke or even a prince. I told you to rein yourself in. I told you. But you went your own way, buying gifts for loose women, throwing party after party.”
    Did he really have to listen to this rant? Don Giovanni was tempted to leave. But he didn’t know where to go. He spread his hands in reason. “Why count coins when there’s an infinite number?”
    â€œBlockhead! You spent them all. Your servants rely on me for pay while you throw money to the winds.”
    His servants had gone to Don Alfinu behind his back? “They should have told me. Lino, Betta, they should have.”
    â€œNo one could tell you anything. You never listen. I figured I could get it back from your sheep if I had to. And now . . .”He flung his hands up. “The whole blasted lot of them dead. And I’m the one holding the bag.”
    Don Giovanni’s head felt like a huge lump of clay on the weak stalk of his neck. He grasped the edge of the table for support. “I’ll call in my loans. Everyone owes me money.”
    â€œAfter this wave, exactly who has extra money?”
    Don Giovanni swallowed hard. “I’ll pay you back.”
    â€œYou don’t need to.”
    Surprising words from a stingy man. “Thank you, but I’ll repay you anyway.”
    â€œLook around.”
    Don Giovanni looked. Against the far wall was a cabinet he recognized as his mother’s. Beside it was a table that his father had used for rolling out maps to study. “You’re the thief?” he breathed, incredulous.
    Don Alfinu laughed. “Don’t be absurd.” Exactly the maidservant’s words, before this nightmare began. “Your castle is now mine. I’ll sell it. Ever since that old King Roger put a moratorium on building