by Mary Hoffman
Falco lay awake in Luciano’s old room. The scene at Georgia’s house had been terrible, but at least she was safely back in her body. Still, he missed her presence in his room and he couldn’t sleep for wondering what had happened to her in Talia. She said she had won the Stellata, but that seemed impossible. Falco knew all about the sums of money that his father and uncle were willing to spend on securing a victory for the Twins or the Lady.
He wondered if Georgia had stravagated back there now and felt very cut off from his old life. How was Gaetano’s courtship of the Duchessa going? What was his father doing? He would have no answer to these questions until he could speak to Georgia again. And until he had answers he would be unable to sleep.
Georgia wheeled back over the city as the light was beginning to fail. As Merla flew slowly home, a line of poetry that Maura was fond of came into Georgia’s mind: ‘You cannot cage the minute within its nets of gold’. It’s true, she thought, and yet if she had had a gold net, this was the moment she would want to keep for ever.
Slowly, Merla began to descend and the glorious flight was over. But ever afterwards, whenever life was difficult for Georgia, she had only to close her eyes and she was back aloft on the flying horse again, wheeling over the City of Stars, surrounded by its saffron meadows of purple and gold.
After Georgia had dismounted, Merla shook her wings and a black feather drifted on to the paving stones. Georgia picked it up and put it in her pocket, with the Etruscan horse. It was probably wrong, but she wasn’t going to leave it in Remora.
Luciano was waiting for her as she led Merla back to the stables. He waited until the winged horse had been rubbed down and fed and then asked Georgia to come for a walk with him.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘but I can’t be long. I have to be back on time today.’
They went, as often before, to the Campo. Cesare’s red and yellow neck-cloth still fluttered from the central column, but Remorans and tourists now strolled where the race had been held less than a day before. Many of them recognised Georgia and saluted her with shouts and applause.
‘You’re a local hero,’ said Luciano, smiling at her.
‘It could go to my head,’ she said. ‘I’ll expect the same treatment when I walk through the school gates next term.’
‘And I’ll be back in Bellezza, learning to be a better Stravagante,’ said Luciano.
‘Beats GCSE,’ said Georgia.
‘I’ll miss you,’ said Luciano, unexpectedly.
‘Really?’ said Georgia, thinking, please God, let me not blush or cry.
‘It’s helped meeting someone from my old world again,’ he said. ‘At first it was quite painful, but now I want to know everything that’s going on, with Falco and my parents.’
‘You said you’d been back a few times,’ she said. ‘Can’t you go and see for yourself?’
‘Yes, but it’s very hard,’ said Luciano quietly. ‘I don’t feel really substantial there now. And it’s so weird, being able to see my parents but not being able to live with them. Knowing they can see me but not being able to explain to them what really happened to me.’
‘Perhaps it will become easier the more often you do it,’ said Georgia. ‘And perhaps I could see you there too?’
‘I’d like that,’ said Luciano, taking her hand. ‘I can’t explain what I mean very well, but I feel you’re special to me, a link with my other life that no one else here can ever be, even Doctor Dethridge. The world he left to come here is nothing like the one I was taken from.’
It’s good to be special for something, thought Georgia, even though it’s not the right thing.
‘I must be going back,’ she said. ‘I have to stravagate.’
‘Then I’ll say goodbye here,’ said Luciano, ‘if you don’t mind. I think I’ll call at the palace and see Arianna.’
‘Is it safe?’ asked Georgia anxiously. ‘What if the Duke is there?’
‘I can’t live my life in fear of the Duke,’ said Luciano and he leaned forward to hug her, brushing her cheek lightly with a kiss.
And then he was gone, walking lightly across the Campo.
Chapter 25
The Shadow Falls
Niccolò sat in the armchair, with Falco on his lap, a mere husk of his old self. They were alone; all the other family members were back at the palace talking to the Pope about weddings. The last light of evening streamed through the window, sending motes of dust dancing in its shafts.
‘It is time,’ said the Duke. And, very gently, he put a fold of his cloak over the boy’s face and pressed.
Falco felt a sudden jolt through his body. It was like a bolt of lightning and it brought him to his feet. His body felt heavy, solid in a new way. He had never felt particularly light in Georgia’s world, but now he knew he had not been fully present in it until this moment.
‘It has happened,’ he said, marvelling. ‘My old body has died.’
He limped over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The sun was rising over Islington and its first rays shone into the room. Falco stood with his back to it and saw his shadow stretching black across the bed.
‘I’m here now for good,’ he said, and felt more lonely than he ever had in his life.
*
Georgia was up early, ready to take whatever the day would bring. And what it brought first was Russell. He pushed his way into her room, shouldering the chest of drawers aside as if it had been from a doll’s house.
‘Oh, whoops,’ he said. ‘Was that supposed to keep me out?’
‘What do you want, Russell?’ Georgia asked wearily.
‘I want to know where you were last night,’ he said conversationally, sitting on her bed. ‘And don’t give me all that guff about promises. I bet you were somewhere with that little cripple.’
‘I wasn’t,’ said Georgia truthfully. She felt strangely calm even though her old tormentor had invaded her private space.
Russell was provoked by her cool manner. He would have to try harder for a response.
‘Well you were with some bloke, I bet. And I bet it was a creep of some kind.’
‘Yes,’ said Georgia. ‘I expect you’d think so. I was with two “blokes”, as a matter of fact, both considered rather good-looking if the number of other girls around them was anything to go by.’
Russell’s eyes bulged out of his head.
‘And I drank a lot of red wine and danced a lot too,’ she continued, thinking of her last night in Remora. ‘And everyone drank toasts to me and I was given a king’s ransom in silver.’
‘Oh, I get it,’ said Russell. ‘It’s another of your fantasies, like being popular at school or having a boyfriend.’ He raised his voice, seriously annoyed by her casual tone. ‘But that’s only ever going to be a fantasy, isn’t it? You’re pathetic and ugly. No one likes you and no one ever will, except for no-hopers like Alice and creepy little spastics like Nickel-arse!’
‘Russell!’ cried Maura and Ralph in unison from the doorway.
Georgia didn’t have to say a thing. Russell’s voice had risen so much in the course of what was in fact quite a routine display of Georgia-bashing, provoked by her lack of reaction, that their parents had overheard his last speech. They looked so shocked, peering into the room over the chest of drawers that Georgia felt almost sorry for them. She had tried and tried to tell them what Russell was like to her, but now that they had heard it for themselves, she really didn’t care.
She shrugged, turning her hands up. Russell turned to her, his face red with fury. ‘I’ll get you for this,’ he whispered.
‘Get me for what?’ said Georgia, distinctly. ‘You’re the one who dropped yourself right in it. I was just here, the way I always have been.’
Niccolò removed the cloak from Falco’s face. The long, agonising wait for Falco’s death was over. His son was at peace now and the Duke could bury him in splendour. He would take the body back to Giglia and inter it in the di Chimici family vault and get that woman, what was her na
me – Miele? – to sculpt a memorial for him. Or perhaps he’d have a new chapel specially built. Such thoughts were easier to bear than Falco’s slow descent into death.
He looked down at his precious boy, then threw back his head and howled. His cries brought Beatrice running. She had been on her way back to relieve her father at his long vigil. The terrible sounds of his keening told her what had happened.
But when she entered the room, she gasped with shock. Niccolò’s hair was the first thing she noticed. Only the day before it had still been mainly black, touched here and there with grey. Now it was pure white. He had aged ten years in a day. And after that shock, she saw something that made her cross herself repeatedly.
The shadow of the Duke’s bulky form was cast on the tiled floor by the evening light. Falco’s body was lying across his lap like the dead Christ in the cathedral in Giglia ... but of its shadow there was no sign.
When the Duke saw what she was looking at, he fell silent. He stood, holding the little weight of Falco’s corpse in his arms. He walked slowly over to the bed and rested it there. But the shadow-duke had empty arms and laid down a burden of nothing.
Niccolò’s eyes met Beatrice’s and now she made the Hand of Fortune, as well as the sign of the cross.
*
Luciano was in Rodolfo’s room at the palace with his master and Arianna. All three of them were jumpy. Rodolfo and his apprentice had felt a wrenching of the ground beneath them, as if the city had been torn by an earthquake.
‘What is it?’ asked Arianna, who had felt nothing.
Rodolfo had gone over to his mirrors and re-focused them on different places. Luciano came to sit next to Arianna. Tentatively, he put his arm round her. ‘It will be all right,’ he said, offering her a reassurance he didn’t feel. She leaned against him, suddenly weary.
‘I want to go home,’ she said quietly. ‘Let’s go back to Bellezza.’
‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Rodolfo.
And then a wild stranger broke into the room unannounced. It took a little while for them to realise it was the Duke. His hair had gone completely white and his eyes were red with lack of sleep.
‘They told me I would find you here,’ he said to Luciano. ‘You who once had no shadow! Now tell me what you did to my boy!’
‘Is he worse, your Grace?’ asked Arianna, startled.
‘He is dead,’ said the Duke. ‘Dead, and yet his dead body casts no shadow. Who is going to explain it to me? This old sorcerer or his follower in evil?’
Niccolò suddenly caught sight of something in one of Rodolfo’s mirrors. To his horror, Luciano saw his old bedroom, with Falco sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. The early morning sun painted a clear shadow on the bedspread behind him.
The sight was too much for the Duke. His reason and his health were too precarious to bear it. He fell down on the floor in a swoon. Rodolfo went to him and pressed his fingers on Niccolò’s eyes, murmuring something under his breath.
‘He will sleep for hours now and will not remember this,’ he said. ‘Still, we should leave before he awakes.’
Hastily Rodolfo dismantled the arrangement of mirrors and stowed it in his valise while Arianna called for servants. She explained that the Duke had been overcome by grief while telling them of his son’s death and had fainted. The servants carried him to his room and took the news to the Pope.
Within minutes the bell of the palazzo’s campanile started to toll and the city went into mourning.
As soon as Falco arrived in Georgia’s house, she knew what had happened. The Mulhollands had brought him, so they couldn’t talk about it straightaway, but she saw the shadow at his feet and the light in his eyes.
‘How are you?’ was all she could say, in conventional greeting, but she put as much meaning into it as she could.
‘All right,’ he said. And meant it.
The grown-ups were having huddled, whispered conversations. Russell had gone out to see his friends; he was supposed to leave for Greece the next day and both Ralph and Maura wanted him out of the house. The atmosphere had changed completely since the evening before when the same people had gathered to grill Georgia. Now it was Russell who was the subject of their concern and Georgia’s transgressions took a back seat.
‘Georgia,’ said Ralph suddenly. ‘Would you mind making coffee for everyone?’ She knew they wanted to talk on their own.
‘Nicholas can keep you company,’ said Vicky.
So the two of them got what they wanted – time alone together. No cup of coffee had ever taken so long to make. Georgia had to tell Falco all about the race, Cesare and Merla and about the banquet in the Ram. And then about Gaetano and Francesca. And then Falco wanted to tell her about the moment when he had felt his shadow return.
‘What does that mean for Luciano, I wonder,’ said Georgia. ‘Your father threatened him and me if anything happened to you.’
‘I can’t ever go back now, can I?’ asked Falco.
‘Not without a talisman from Talia,’ said Georgia.
He looked so woebegone that she drew the black feather from her pocket and gave it to him.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘I’m a Stravagante and I give you this talisman. I’m sure it will take you back one day.’
Several carriages were drawn up in the Ram while their occupants said their goodbyes. Rodolfo was going to travel back to Bellezza with Silvia, giving his place in Arianna’s carriage up to Luciano. But Dethridge was not to be alone in his. Francesca was coming back to Bellezza with him, to collect her belongings from old Albani’s house. Gaetano had come down to the stables to bid her farewell.
And he was charged with messages for his father about the Bellezzans’ hasty departure. He would do what he could to soften Niccolò’s suspicion and rage towards the Stravaganti but it was a dark cloud on all their horizons.
Paolo and Teresa were saying goodbye to their guests. Luciano and Cesare and Gaetano clasped arms, the last left there of the five who had made their pact on the way to Belle Vigne. They could still hear Falco’s passing bell tolling; Luciano wondered if he would ever be able to get the sound out of his ears.
‘Say goodbye to my substitute jockey for me when he next comes back,’ said the young Duchessa to Cesare. ‘But I trust I’ll see you riding for the Ram next year.’
‘Indeed, your Grace,’ said Cesare, who had never got over his awe of this beautiful lady.
‘And be sure to tell him to look after my brother,’ added Gaetano in a whisper. Then, out loud, to the Bellezzan party, ‘And look after Francesca for me in your city of masks. I shall be counting the hours until she joins me in Giglia.’
‘There,’ said Arianna. ‘You see, you can be romantic when you try. Of course I shall look after her.’
The three Stravaganti who were leaving embraced Paolo. Each took strength from the others and gave it back in equal measure. And then the carriages rolled out towards the Gate of the Sun. And on their way they overtook a party of brightly clad and be-ribboned people carrying musical instruments.
‘Stop!’ Arianna cried to her coachman. ‘Won’t you ride with us?’ she asked Raffaella. ‘There is room on top and in the fourth carriage if you don’t mind travelling with my trunks.’
‘Thank you, your Grace,’ said Aurelio, answering for them both, ‘but for us the walking is part of a long journey. I’m sure we shall meet again, in the City of Flowers if not in your own dukedom.’
‘I hope so,’ said Arianna. ‘I should like to hear the music of the Manoush again.’
Georgia’s punishment was to be banned from her riding lessons for a term. It was hard but she felt she could cope. She had ridden so much that summer and she was unlikely to forget all she had learned in Remora. And, in a way, any horse would have been such a come-down after Merla, that she didn’t mind deferring the time when she would have to make that comparison.
And there were compensations. She was still to go to France and Russell would be leaving for Gree
ce in the morning as planned. Ralph and Maura had at last taken her problems with Russell seriously.
‘I see now why you wanted the lock on your door,’ said Maura sadly as Ralph fixed a new one on for Georgia. ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me about Russell before.’
‘I’m so gutted that any son of mine should behave like that,’ said Ralph.
‘He’s always resented me,’ said Georgia. ‘I think he was just taking it out on me because he was so jealous when you married Mum.’
‘Well, it’s going to stop now,’ said Ralph. ‘Maura and I think he needs counselling.’
‘Has he agreed to that?’ asked Georgia.
Ralph and Maura exchanged looks.
‘Not exactly,’ said Ralph. ‘But he’s only allowed on this holiday on condition that he sees someone when he gets back.’
It was such a relief to be able to talk about it but Georgia knew that Russell had already lost his power over her. She recalled Paolo’s words. ‘He will not always be there. Remember that nothing lasts for ever, the bad things as well as the good.’
She didn’t speak to Russell again before he left. She had decided not to stravagate that night. Perhaps I am being cowardly, she thought, but I don’t want to face the Duke until I’ve caught up on lost sleep.
And by the next night, it was too late. Russell had gone and so had the Etruscan horse. And this time she thought it was probably for good.
One of the first to pay his respects at the Papal palace, after the family, was Enrico the spy. He was wearing a black armband.
He was told that the Duke was sleeping but the Pope would see him. Enrico smoothed his hair and went in to see the prelate.
‘Holiness,’ he said, prostrating himself in front of Ferdinando di Chimici and kissing his ring.
‘Ah,’ said the Pope, motioning him to rise. ‘You have heard of our great sorrow?’
