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While warrior born Mattias did his calculations, Augustin of St. Ives did his halfway a world away. Following the yet to be named river, the crew had collected enough gold to line their pockets twice over and half dozen barrels, but it was now much harder to collect with spades and knives and as ill luck would have it, the pickaxes were on the doomed "Damsel." They were thus at the mercy of deposits found near rivers and dried out riverbeds, unless powder was used. The expedition went more and more inland, following the western bank of the river, but with each passing day, Augustin found himself troubled. There was talk of the locals being cannibals and head-hunters from diaries and gossip and rumor of those who visited nearby isles (though they did not know just how nearby they were). And so, on the tenth day, after a particular dismal day of not spotting any nuggets and flakes, Augustin did his happy maths. By his estimate, the Isle of Olympia had already yielded, in those squat barrels, profit of 1,000% for the journey, and we do mean profit mind, not revenue, and with the loss of a ship added in, which Augustin did with some pluck, for he was a navigator on a cost conscious slaver in his previous life.

"Generosi, we lack the necessary tools to mine gold, and mine it we must, given what we have encountered here now. Let us return to our ships with our profits, lest we find ourselves too far removed from our good cannon. Then let us seek easier plots of gold on nearby land?"

There were too many empty stares. Gold was here and now, and while it was harder to spot, it was still here, and they had seen it. He wanted them to turn their backs on it and seek it in far distant lands.

"Generosi, let us be fair. Give me a full moon to find an easier avenue to collect gold, and if I do not spot it, we shall return here and resume our good search?"

There were murmurs the Englishman had proved his mettle and some were not as keen to march into unknown. They were sailors and to them land often meant trouble, and though there was gold, a deep memory in their bones warned of overstaying at port regardless of pleasures of flesh and wine, or in this case easy wealth. So the expedition returned to the ships. Gold was stored in more barrels and every man was given account of what was his with a neat ledger and two copies of books were kept on each ship. The two captains and Augustin agreed to forbid any gambling on the newly won gold, for they feared what such excitement might bring. Dice and card games were thus to be restricted to half portions of food and personal weapons. And this too was judged fair by the wiser and older heads among crew, who forced the less wise among their number of the need for caution. They were all rich now, and no one wanted to be made pauper.

As for Augustin, he gathered his charts, notes and log book and bade the two ships sail eastwards, towards the first island they had passed on the way to the blessed and now no longer fabled land of Olympia. But before they could get under way:

"Sir Augustin of St. Ives," suddenly cried out the lunatic in charge of "Fortune." "Sir Augustin," he repeated with utter dismay. "We had not named the river we found gold on."

"You are right my good captain, and you must have the honor to name it for spotting our error."

The lunatic blinked, thought and muttered, "The River of Saint Catherine of Genoa."

And this all nodded and the ships set off.


The smaller island due southeastwards of Olympia did not impress the hard-bitten and world-wise fleet. Oh to be sure the place was lovely, and there were coconuts to be had to supplement the stale water they drank. And the climate was good. There were also crocodiles to be speared and ate over fire, with gorgeous filets cut into strips and it did not take long for some enterprising soul to attempt to put to good use the hides of the green monsters. But there was no gold to be found. Or at least none were found in the four days the crews spent there. On the fourth night, a canoe of native warriors was spotted upon a river and the local foolish braves attempted to attack the makeshift camp of the fleet. For this they were massacred and their corpses looted, and still no gold was to be found among their breech cloths and greasy hair.

After four days, Augustin remained on the smaller island just long enough to rename it from San Cristobal to Valerian of Abbenza, in honor of said saint's feast day. It was only later, with the ships going southwestwards upon his request that he judged his naming choice not entirely prudent. St. Valerian was martyred for refusing to give up holy relics, was cast out by Vandals from his city and left to die of exposure outside its walls. It was not a good saint name for explorer to use. But renaming saints was a rather tricky affair, so while his captains stuck to St. Valerian as the name of the place they abandoned, Augustin made a note in his log book of the place under the original don name of St. Cristobal, thus avoiding an ill omen by trick.

But ill omened is how Augustin felt regardless, for the next body of land they struck was an island without any gold or much use. Though the island had a most curious lake inside its southeastern extremity. Said lake was half the size of the island itself, but ringed by it and its odd natured tickled Augustin's most intellectual fancy, but four days late and with no gold to show, he abandoned his mapping and set further southwestwards. This isle was named Iron Ring in a fit of pique by the Scotch navigator of the lunatic's ship. And none complained of the silly name.

Thirteen dark souled days later, spent by Augustin riddled in doubt none but Olympia were privy to, watching his pacing about cabin, the ships sighted a vicious army of reefs. Augustin, he who had found gold halfway across the world, he who had used theories of a blind heretic condemned by the highest courts of Christendom to much aplomb, he who had the blind courage to become papist in a land of rabid Protestants and he who had proven right that which was called wrong by the brightest minds of the foremost maritime power of its day (Holland) and the mightiest and richest empire then known (Spain), he now was flummoxed and doubted himself. The doubt was simple, but no less crippling. For he was presented with two choices and knew not which one was right. North or South?

Augustin studied the reefs and thought on it. No one knew how large Australia could have been. Nor did any judge its shape. Suppose it was flattened as if as sword and dangled from the sheath of the now named Isle of Olympia? Or, suppose it was round as a buckler's shield and hung well south? He had half guessed the middling parallel of it, but without being able to reach it, he now had to say North or South.

He stood at the bowsprit, a millionaire of his own making, and his mind shook as if a leaf.

Olympia walked up behind him and planted her warm gloveless hand at his lower back.

"South," declared Sir Augustin of St. Ives immediately, in a booming voice that brooked no questions.

***


"I have never heard of Da Vinci painting St. Jerome, sweetest Ashley."

"The sources are clear that he did, your Highness the Grand Duke. I can provide proofs."

"I have experts for that. Many, many experts, who drink my wine and try to inveigle my wenches. The matter shall be for them to judge. But if you are right, you have brought me a painting beyond compare, a long lost Da Vinci brought home. It is glorious, though... It is not quite cheerful, is it?"

"No, your Highness the Grand Duke, I fear not."

The Grand Duke of Tuscany stared at the emaciated man in rags on a rock his gaunt chest ready for blow from a rock for which he was reaching. He wanted a drink just looking at the thing.

"Perhaps this will adorn a chapel for my dear wife."

Ashley kept silence.

"We are at war. The Grand Duchy needs heirs."

"Your Highness is wise beyond compare. I think the Duchess would appreciate the fine pious art work."

No man is above flattery, but when dealing with princes it helps to shovel it thick.

"Once authenticated, I should think 5,000 florins will do justice to you."

"In silver, your Highness?"

"What? No. In collateralized debt obligations as prior."

Ashley bowed, for she feared the next words out of her mouth would be inopportune. She brought back a masterpiece and for that was rewarded with paper. There was no justice in the world in her view.


Ashley's view was shared by the Grand Duke's brother Gian Carlo. He was handsome, brave and well liked. But he was the second son of old ruler of Medici, and thus to avoid conflict and to prevent legal heirs to spring from his loins and challenge the spurts of his older brother, he was slated by his wise father for a career in the Holy Mother Church once the Grand Duke survived long enough. A year separated the two brothers, and had the Grand Duke succumbed to disease before reaching eight, it would have been handsome, brave, well liked Gian Carlo sitting upon the throne of Tuscany, instead of his more... distraction prone older brother. But alas, the Grand Duke had lived and became, uh, the Grand Duke upon death of their wise father, and poor stuck Gian Carlo did all he could to escape his fate of a cassock, but could not.

Gian Carlo's one hope was to have his other brother Leopoldo to keep living in good health. For the Medici were owed a cardinal by family name and fortune. And should Leopoldo expire, such fate would fall upon Gian Carlo as the most blood pure Medici in the church line. And once you are cardinal, there is no turning back. Richelieu could well prance about in a uniform of his own making when he was a cardinal in the more wooly 1620s, but that was an age much more cavalier than the one in which Gian Carlo became man. In the 1640s, becoming cardinal, at least in Italies, meant hanging up the sword and playing high church politics instead of leading raiding parties and killing pirates with your bare hands. Granted, not even Richelieu did the latter, and it is equally true that if the current war ended badly for Medici, it was possible they would be bereft of cardinals for a while, but Gian Carlo knew in his bones, he was next in line for the red hat.

Thus Gian Carlo met Governor and General Mattias at his not quite frontline villa with a mixture of sadness and envy. His younger brother got to play general and would for a long time, while he was a sea-captain for as long as the health of his other brother held up. It was not fair.

"You asked to speak to me, dearest Mattias?"

"Aye, brother. I have figured out how much it would cost to bring Barberini to heel."

***


Cardinal Mazarini walked into the chamber of Cardinal-Inquisitor Francesco Barberini and spent half an hour on nonsense and worse, 'til Francesco pivoted the conversation to back home.

"I am told the news has yet to reach you?"

"What news?"

"Cardinal Richelieu is now with angels."

At this Mazarini heart leapt and sank in quick succession. The husk has expired. Finally. The principal minister of the King of France was dead. Long live the principal minister. Destiny beckoned.

***


The "Female Bastard" and "Fortune" sailed southeastwards, keeping abreast of the coral hordes, now and then daring to dip more south than east where the hordes did allow, but coral reefs could be as treacherous as snakes in a garden, and so it was best to keep parallel, and this they did for two Augustin nerves fraying days and only turned southwestwards when the reefs were not seen for leagues. By dusk they had found land.

"Southwards, keep along coast" commanded Augustin at bowsprit, this time unaided by Olympia's hand.

For five days they sailed along the seemingly never ending coast, and with each passing day, even as the crew grew restless and Olympia feared trouble, Augustin smiled more and more. And so on the fifth day he nearly hurt his face from grinning too wide and bade the ships to find a good bay and harbor. This took another day, between various disagreements of the lunatic and Captain Kelly, but they managed to settle on a harbor and two boats were sent to the shore.


Augustin stood at the prow, his cloak at his feet in a ball. Olympia sat by the tiller this time and merely kept watch. As soon as the boats got close, Augustin hopped overboard with a spring in his step and waded to shore, ignoring the mutters of dismay and alarm. It was only when he was well in the sand, did he take note of the noises and turned his head and saw a most curious animal. It had a doe's head and hide's color, but stood on its hind legs and from its rump emerged a tail that would put a murderous python to shame. Its front legs dangled as if arms and reached its belly and here the strangeness was turned up a notch. For the belly had an opening, as if a flap of a door to let in errant caps, but this flap was parallel to its belly and was at the top, not bottom. A slit that was not made by wound and seemed natural, if such word could be twisted to describe an oddity of such a thing. And from this slit, soon emerged another deer head, attached to a smaller version of the upstanding animal. The four eyes on two heads blinked not quite in unison and then, then, it got far too strange to recount. But we shall endeavor. The Not Deer turned its back on the shore and the astonished crew, balancing on its tail and then leapt forward, using its tail to push off the sand and thus it leapt and hopped off into the brush, leaving an exclaiming audience, save one Englishman who was not there to witness miracles of life.

Augustin stormed forward, sword belted. Stopped on the shore. Withdrew his gleaming sword. This he plunged into the soft sand and kneeled. He intoned Latin. Made to stand, but could not. His right cheek was wet from tears from his one good eye and his legs would not listen to reason. He kneeled til the wind wiped his tears away and his legs found themselves. Then he stood and turned to face his crew and lady most anxious.

"Australia. It is no more a fable. It is no myth. It is no longer a mystery. It is real. It is ou..."

Augustin froze mid speech and stared into the harbor. His pale eyes blank in shock.

Olympia was the first to spot that something was wrong, she forced herself not to rush to his aid and herself turn to look at what could be a cause for her companion's behavior. There, sitting in the harbor was a menacing warship and it was bearing down on the two smaller ships of their tiny fleet.