Chapter 466: The Final Bid
Marina’s desperate gaze sought out Mendoza, but the woman’s face was lost in shadow, her expression unreadable. Marina could see only her hands, clenched tightly at her chest, and the glint of a single bead of sweat on her chin. She quickly made the sign of the cross and scanned the crowd again, searching for the kind Signor Trini.
Just then, a serving maid, carrying a bright glass lantern, moved slowly through the darkness and stopped at a table, raising the light high. In its glow, Marina saw him. It was Signor Trini. He sat hunched over the table, seemingly clutching some documents. Behind him stood four Tartar-like men, all leaning over him, watching. Marina saw that Signor Trini’s hands were trembling. After a moment, he wiped his brow with his sleeve, closed his eyes as if taking a deep breath, and then began to write furiously on the papers. The four men took the documents, seemingly satisfied.
Marina had a dreadful premonition of what Signor Trini had just signed, but she dared not dwell on it. He snatched up his bidding paddle and looked up, his eyes meeting hers. She saw a man drenched in sweat, his face pale, his eyes filled with exhaustion and terror.
“Four thousand Gilt Certificates!” Trini’s voice rang out, announcing the new price.
“Five thousand!” Xiao Bailang countered, his face impassive.
He Fanghui was forced to pause the auction, dispatching a staff member to inquire if Xiao Bailang could produce such a sum in cash.
“I don’t need to,” Xiao Bailang declared arrogantly, producing three admission tickets. “Is this enough? This Spanish mare is mine. Her ass may not be the biggest, but I’m not letting her go to that Dutch pretty boy!”
He Fanghui realized the man was dug in. When it came to matters of “national dignity,” Xiao Bailang was always one to go all in.
The bidding resumed, now jumping in increments of five hundred, with Xiao Bailang immediately adding a thousand to Trini’s every offer.
When the price reached nine thousand five hundred, a wave of murmurs swept the hall. Most of the Elders considered it absurd. Even He Fanghui’s composed expression began to look strained.
Trini’s face was a twisted mask of agony, his features contorted as if he were on the verge of collapse.
“Ten thousand Gilt Certificates!” He Fanghui finally called out the night’s most unbelievable price.
Trini could bear no more. He fainted, slumping to the floor.
“Ten thousand, going once! Ten thousand, going twice…!”
At that tense moment, a figure rose from the back rows. He was dressed in black, with a black cloak, black gloves, and even a black velvet mask covering his face. He strode toward the stage, oblivious to the astonished stares of those around him.
He Fanghui slowly lowered his gavel, but did not strike it, as if he had been expecting this man’s appearance all along.
“Do you have an objection to the auction, Your Excellency, the Count?”
“What is the final bid?”
“Ten thousand Gilt Certificates, Your Excellency.”
“I am a guest here, with only one admission ticket. Is there a limit to my bid?”
“Not as long as you have sufficient cash to pay—silver or gold coins are also acceptable.”
The man, addressed as “the Count,” glanced at the nearly unconscious Marina. “I will double it,” he said. “Twenty thousand Gilt Certificates.”
He Fanghui’s mouth fell open in a slightly theatrical display of shock. “Twenty thousand?”
“Indeed,” the man boomed, his voice radiating power. “And I could produce twenty thousand pesos in cash if required.”
“Bastard! Who allowed him to do this…?” Xiao Bailang roared with fury. He had just started to rise from his chair to protest when two men seized him, forcing him back down. Before he could react, someone stuffed a cigar into his mouth.
No one else made a sound. He Fanghui raised his gavel and brought it down with a light tap. “Sold, for twenty thousand Gilt Certificates!”
Marina watched as the tall man approached her. He removed the velvet mask, revealing the handsome, rugged face of a Latin man—it was the Jesuit priest who had brought her medicine. She let out a cry of astonishment. With a flourish, the man swept his black cloak around her, enveloping her. Then, with effortless strength, he lifted her into his powerful arms.
“Do not be afraid,” he whispered in Italian. “I am a Sardinian nobleman, at your service.”
Doña Marina de Arellano fainted once more.
She awoke in a lavishly decorated room. The knight in black sat with his back to her at an exquisite writing desk, engrossed in his work. Hearing her stir, he stood and walked toward her.
He is so strong! she thought. So tall! She had rarely seen a Latin man of such magnificent stature: a broad chest, powerful shoulders, and muscular arms. Above this powerful frame was a face both weathered and handsome, with the curled hair of the upper class falling around it—a truly remarkable man.
“You are awake,” he said. “Would you care for a glass of wine? I have some of the finest.”
Marina said nothing, merely nodding. Her lips were parched.
The man retrieved a carved glass from the bedside table, already filled with red liquid.
Marina drank. “Where am I?” she asked. “Are you not a priest?”
“No, I am not a priest. I merely disguised myself as one of those venerable fathers to gain entry to the quarantine camp.” The man gave an elegant bow. “I am Vincenzo Lando de Vannucci, Count of Vannucci, of Sardinia.”
“What is this place?” Marina asked, looking around the room.
“You are in my temporary residence. This place is called Lingao.”
“Lingao?”
“Yes, it is an island off the coast of China—a colony of the Australians. They have captured a city here.”
“Are they Chinese pirates?”
“No, they are not pirates,” Lando said. “They are excellent merchants and industrialists.”
“Why are you here? What do you want with me?” A sudden alarm seized Marina. She had long heard that not all Christians were kind to their own. The Barbary pirates counted many Christians among their ranks, and they showed no mercy to Christian ships.
And this self-proclaimed Count of Vannucci, for all his airs, did not carry himself like a true nobleman. She knew that Sardinia, a small Italian kingdom under the rule of a Spanish viceroy, was lax in its granting of titles. A knighthood, at least, could be bought for a price.
This man was likely an Italian adventurer who had made his fortune through illicit dealings on the seas of East Asia.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
He seemed to sense her unease. “You need not be afraid. I had no interest in you initially,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit opposite her. “It was Miss Mendoza’s plea that compelled me to bid for you. Otherwise, you would not have been so terrified by that useless Trini. I truly had no idea he was so poor!”
“Miss Mendoza?”
“Yes, she will come to see you shortly.” He clapped his hands, and a serving maid with East Asian features entered, carrying a bundle of clothes.
“You should change your clothes. What you are wearing is not very dignified,” he said with a smile. “I hope my taste in fashion is not to your disliking.”
The maid laid the clothes on the bed. Marina recognized them as her own, from her luggage.
“I bought back your luggage,” Lando explained, seeing her confusion. “Unfortunately, I was unable to retrieve your silver and jewelry—they refused.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Marina said softly.
“Change your clothes first. I will return shortly.”
With the maid’s help, Marina changed. To be back in her own clothes—though cumbersome and constricting—was a profound comfort. From what this Signor Lando had said, there was now real hope of escaping her terrible predicament.
Just then, Miss Mendoza arrived. After whispering a quiet blessing for her newfound freedom, Marina, overwhelmed with gratitude, fell into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. If not for Mendoza’s help, she would have fallen into the hands of these Australian heathens, just like the other poor girls.
“You mustn’t cry,” Mendoza said. “You must thank Signor Lando and Signor Trini. Signor Lando spent nearly thirty thousand Gilt Certificates for you—at least several thousand pesos. Without his generosity, I don’t know how I could have saved you.”
She recounted how she had desperately sought Landi’s help. He had been reluctant at first, not wanting to antagonize his Australian business partners. They had agreed to have Trini bid on her behalf, never imagining that someone would compete so fiercely, driving the price far beyond what he had prepared.
“…To raise enough money, Signor Trini was forced to sign a ruinous loan agreement,” Mendoza sighed. “And even that was not enough! I had to run back and beg Signor Lando for help.”
“I will never forget your great kindness,” Marina said, her heart overflowing with gratitude, especially for Landi. She knew that without his generosity, she would now be in the hands of that dark, brutish man, suffering unspeakable abuse. “Whatever the cost, I will have my fiancé and my father repay you double.”
Lando smiled, making a magnanimous gesture. “You should repay poor Signor Trini first. His loan will bankrupt him within two months. The poor artist!”