City of Ships

by Mary Hoffman

  Graziella tried to think of the future but she couldn’t see beyond the next day. She ordered food for the family, which sometimes remained uneaten. She bought rich material from Flavia in the market and commissioned seamstresses to make curtains and cushions for the house, but when they were in place she looked at them as if she couldn’t remember choosing those patterns and colours.

  Her greatest solace lay in looking after Filippo. He had recovered from his wounds but would always walk with one leg stiff and he had a scar that ran from his temple to his chin. Each time Graziella looked at it, she thought of how the wicked blade had missed his eye and his handsome mouth and shuddered.

  ‘Di Chimici!’ she would spit when she thought of the family that had driven hers from Giglia.

  But Filippo was happy in Classe. He had never shared his older brother’s hatred of the di Chimici and had fond memories of playing with the young princes and the little princess in their old palazzo on the Via Larga. Of the massacre in the church he remembered nothing. He did have vivid recall of the night his younger brother Davide was stabbed in the street and then nothing except a long period of pain before waking up one morning in Classe and hearing the gulls in the harbour.

  Sometimes he had nightmares in which he cried out and said, incomprehensibly to his mother, that he was drinking silver. And sometimes he had more pleasant dreams, in which the little di Chimici princess smoothed his hair and murmured soft songs to him. But in those dreams they were both still children and the terror and fury of sharp blades was far in the future.

  ‘I am going for a walk, Mother,’ he said, a day or so after Arianna had arrived in Classe.

  ‘A walk?’ fussed Graziella. ‘Wait till I get my cloak and I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, don’t trouble yourself,’ said Filippo. ‘I have my stick and I’d like to get some fresh air on my own. I shan’t be long.’

  He waved his ebony cane at his mother, who bit her lip but smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Go then and be careful. The cobbles are so very irregular.’

  Filippo stepped out briskly and made an effort not to limp too obviously until he was out of sight of his house’s windows and his mother’s anxious gaze. Then he slowed down and walked stiffly down to the harbour.

  He loved this city and felt more at home here than he ever had in Giglia. The City of Flowers was full of artistic wonders, it was true, but then Classe had its mosaics and Filippo was fascinated by them. What he really liked about his new home was that things were made and traded, bought and sold there in the open market or down here at the harbour. People caught fish and sold them the same day so that other people could cook and eat them in the evening. Traders imported silks and spices and precious jewels and other merchants came to buy them. It was all much more real and visible than lending money to foreign princes and getting it back with interest.

  Filippo was proud that his father’s family had made their money from rearing sheep and selling wool but, as the generations had gone by, the Nucci, like the di Chimici, had turned to banking for their wealth. He felt a little guilty about that; still, he couldn’t expect his father to go back to breeding sheep in the city that had offered him sanctuary.

  Filippo was tired and sat down on an empty fish barrel, not caring what it would do to his velvet breeches. He looked out further along to the deep-water mooring at what was his other favourite thing about Classe: its numerous and well-equipped warships. He wanted to travel on the sea in one of those galleys but realised that Admiral Borca of the Classe fleet would be unlikely to accept a maimed sailor. So for now, all he could do was look.

  *

  Isabel found Rodolfo quite terrifying. To his question about there being ‘another’ she did not know what to reply.

  ‘I have a twin, sir,’ she stammered eventually. ‘But he is not with me.’ And she hoped that he had meant Charlie and not by some sinister magic known about Charlotte.

  ‘He has not been chosen,’ said Rodolfo, smiling now. Isabel saw that he could be someone she would like but only if they were both on the same side. And she liked the idea of being chosen for something when Charlie hadn’t. If only she knew what it was!

  ‘I’m so glad you are here,’ said Arianna again. ‘We have a serious problem. That’s why we’re in Classe.’

  ‘What sort of problem?’ said Isabel, realising that she really did want to help these extraordinary people. ‘I’ll do what I can. But I honestly don’t know what that is.’

  ‘In Bellezza we face aggression from the sea,’ said Rodolfo. ‘From old enemies in the east. But now we think they are acting in cooperation with the di Chimici. Do you know about them?’

  ‘I know that Nick was one of them,’ said Isabel. ‘Is he an enemy?’

  ‘No,’ said Arianna firmly. ‘Some of that family are our friends, especially Falco’s brother, Gaetano, and his wife Francesca. So would Falco have been, if he had not chosen to leave us. He was very attached to Luciano.’

  ‘But the Grand Duke, Fabrizio, has an arrest warrant out for Luciano because he killed the late Grand Duke Niccolò in a duel,’ said Rodolfo.

  ‘Isn’t that sort of OK?’ asked Isabel. ‘I mean killing someone in a duel is not the same as murder, is it?’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Arianna. ‘And Niccolò was cheating anyway. He probably wouldn’t have died if he hadn’t put poison on one of the foils. It would have been Luciano’s lifeless body on the terrace of the Nucci palace.’

  She paced up and down the room and Isabel could see how devoted she was to this mysterious boy who had once been a pupil at Barnsbury Comp.

  Rodolfo suddenly looked distracted.

  ‘Speaking of Luciano,’ he said, ‘I think he is trying to get in touch with me.’

  He picked up a hand mirror that was lying on an occasional table in Duke Germano’s salon and peered into it intently.

  Then he was smiling and nodding.

  ‘Is it him?’ asked Arianna, just as if Rodolfo had a phone call. ‘Can I see him? Please give me the mirror.’

  Rodolfo handed it over and raised one eyebrow at Isabel.

  ‘Oh, he’s not in Padavia,’ said Arianna. ‘It looks like Dottore Crinamorte’s laboratory. What is he doing in Bellezza?’

  ‘Concentrate, my dear,’ said Rodolfo, ‘and you might find out.’

  Arianna frowned and then blushed and then nearly dropped the mirror.

  ‘He says he’s coming here!’ she said joyfully. ‘How wonderful!’

  Rodolfo took the mirror from her and after a moment called Isabel over to look into it.

  ‘I’ve told him you are here,’ he said, though Isabel knew he had been silent. ‘He’d like to see you.’

  Isabel peered cautiously into the glass. What she saw was a richly dressed young man, no more than a teenager but wearing elegant clothes, smiling back at her. He had long curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail and looked a bit like an eighties glam rocker.

  And yet, there was something familiar about him. He could have been that Lucien Mulholland who played violin in the school orchestra and who – as they had been solemnly told in assembly one day long ago – had died of cancer.

  ‘Um, hello,’ she said, ‘I’m Isabel.’

  ‘He can’t hear you,’ said Arianna. ‘You have to concentrate really hard and you might hear him think-speak.’

  Isabel concentrated and found she could sense his words: Welcome to Talia. I hope I’ll see you in Classe. I’m coming tomorrow.

  Then I shall stravagate again, Isabel thought. I’d like to meet you. Perhaps you can tell me how I’m supposed to stop a naval invasion when I can’t even swim?

  The face in the mirror laughed and held up his hands, palms out.

  You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to do! And I was just a Barnsbury student like you. You’ll be fine.

  And then Arianna took the mirror back and Isabel looked away to give them some privacy. She was a bit shaken by how dashing and gorgeous this ex-Barnsbury-sixth-former seeme
d now he lived in Talia.

  *

  On an impulse, Filippo Nucci levered himself stiffly from his barrel and walked slowly not back home but to Duke Germano’s palace. Germano had been a good friend to their family and Filippo was hoping that he could do something even more for him.

  When he arrived, he was shown into the Duke’s salon, but after exchanging pleasantries, Germano asked if he’d like to meet the visitors from Bellezza.

  Filippo was intrigued. He had seen the Duchessa and her formidable father only at a distance and, since he couldn’t remember the di Chimici weddings, had only the haziest idea about them. So he agreed readily enough. If he had known or remembered about the attempt on the Duchessa’s life during the massacre, he might have been less enthusiastic about meeting her.

  Arianna was looking especially beautiful, flushed and happy at the prospect of seeing Luciano the next day, when Duke Germano ushered in a thin young man with a cane.

  ‘Ah, Your Grace,’ said Germano. ‘I wanted you to meet Signor Filippo Nucci. We were talking about his family earlier. Filippo, may I present the Duchessa of Bellezza and her father the Regent, Senator Rodolfo Rossi?’

  Filippo made the best bow he could manage. Isabel couldn’t help staring at the long scar on his face, so at odds with his gentle bearing.

  Any grudge Arianna and Rodolfo might have borne this young man for his part in the Nucci plot and massacre would have been dispelled by the sight of his injuries. And after a few minutes of conversation it became clear that he had no recollection of the horrors of that day.

  ‘And this is Signora Flavia and her friend Signorina Isabella,’ added the Duke.

  ‘I think my mother knows you, Signora,’ said Filippo. ‘She often mentions the fine cloth you sell.’

  ‘Well, I am overwhelmed with visits today,’ said Germano, beaming. ‘Will you stay to eat with us? Anna would be glad to see you all.’

  ‘Thank you, you are most kind,’ said Filippo, ‘but I’m afraid my mother will have a search party out for me if I don’t return soon. She . . . she is very solicitous about my health.’

  ‘I am sorry to see you so hurt,’ said Arianna quietly.

  ‘That is kind. But I am so much better than I was,’ said Filippo,

  ‘We must go too,’ said Flavia. ‘We could walk with you, Signor Filippo.’

  ‘Well, do remember to bring Isabella back tomorrow,’ said Arianna significantly. ‘When we have our other visitor.’

  Filippo Nucci made a great show of offering his arm to Flavia but Isabel could see that by the time they had crossed the square he was leaning on the merchant for support rather than the other way round. They left him at the Nucci palazzo and went into Flavia’s house.

  ‘I wonder what that young man wanted from Germano,’ said Flavia thoughtfully.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Isabel. ‘But he seemed nice in spite of his poor face. I liked him.’

  *

  Fabrizio di Chimici was so enchanted with his son that he often rushed home in the middle of the day to see him, leaving the cares of State behind and running lightly through the special corridor that led from the Palazzo Ducale to the Nucci palace on the south side of the River Argento.

  It was a very grand building and it was with great satisfaction that Grand Duke Niccolò had confiscated it from the rival family after the massacre. It couldn’t bring back Carlo but it could inflict more pain on the insolent upstarts who had dared to compete with the Duke’s pre-eminence in the city.

  ‘Where is Bino?’ Fabrizio asked his sister Beatrice, when he arrived out of breath in the nursery on one such day.

  Beatrice was folding baby clothes and laying sprigs of lavender and rosemary between them, as she put them in a chest at the foot of the ornate ducal cradle.

  ‘You have just missed them,’ she said. ‘Caterina has taken him out in the grounds in that little cart Gabassi made for him.’

  ‘But is it not too cold?’

  ‘He was as well wrapped up as a little tsarevich,’ said Beatrice. ‘You need not fear.’

  Fabrizio looked at her, standing with the lacy little garments in her arms, and felt a rush of fondness for her.

  ‘He is a sweet baby, isn’t he, sister?’ he said, sitting in the low nursing chair. ‘Wouldn’t you like one for yourself?’

  Beatrice immediately became flustered.

  ‘I mean,’ said Fabrizio, ‘that it is time you were married yourself. You don’t mean not to marry, I suppose?’

  ‘I don’t mean anything,’ said Beatrice meekly. ‘It is less than a year since Father and Carlo died. How could I think of marrying?’ She gestured at her black satin gown.

  ‘I don’t intend you to do anything straight away or before it is fitting,’ said Fabrizio, ‘but just to turn your mind to the subject. What about our cousin Filippo? He will have Bellona before long and he is Francesca’s brother. It would keep you in the family twice over.’

  ‘Do I need keeping in the family, Fabrizio?’

  ‘Well, there’s no one else more suitable, is there?’ asked Fabrizio. ‘I mean, Ferrando’s too old and Rinaldo’s a cardinal. Who else is there?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Beatrice bleakly. It was obviously out of the question in her brother’s mind that she should find a husband outside the di Chimici family. She felt suddenly weary; maybe she should enter a convent instead.

  ‘And Filippo’s a good sort,’ said Fabrizio. ‘He didn’t hesitate to do as I asked in Padavia – not that it did any good. But a good fellow. You have a think about him, Bice. I should like you to have a good husband and some babies of your own. You are wonderful with little Bino.’

  ‘Thank you, brother. He is easy to love.’

  ‘And so will Filippo be, you’ll see.’

  The Grand Duke got up and planted a kiss on her forehead. He had to go back to his business affairs. He hadn’t managed to see his wife and baby but he was pleased with his interview with his sister. He strolled back through the corridor, humming.

  Princess Beatrice flung herself into the low chair and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘What am I to do?’ she asked the empty room. ‘Why can’t everything just stay as it is?’

  But she knew her brother better than to suppose it would.

  Chapter 6

  The Black Raider

  Isabel had a long luxurious lie-in on Sunday. There was nothing unusual about that but there must have been something different about her because Charlie kept giving her looks.

  The fact was that, now she was a new person in Talia, she was also changing in her own world. There was hardly any time to commune with Charlotte and she was also forgetting to be inconspicuous. It was only now that she realised how much effort it took not to be noticed.

  The doorbell rang and her mother called up to her that she had visitors. Fortunately, she was just out of the shower and it didn’t take long to fling some clothes on. It was so surprising to see Georgia and Nick in her kitchen that Isabel couldn’t say anything, but her mother was chatting away to them and offering coffee and biscuits.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Evans,’ said Georgia, ‘but we were hoping to take Bel to the coffee bar. Some friends are meeting us there.’

  Her mother was so obviously pleased to see Isabel making new friends it was quite embarrassing. They left as quickly as possible and went to Café@anytime, where Matt and Sky were waiting for them.

  ‘Yesh not coming?’ asked Isabel.

  ‘No,’ said Matt. ‘She thought it should just be us – you know – Stravaganti.’

  ‘And Alice doesn’t want any part of it,’ said Sky. ‘She really hates all the Talia stuff.’ He had a deep frown between his eyebrows. Could there be trouble with his love life? Isabel knew it was bad to hope so.

  ‘Come on, then, Bel,’ said Georgia. ‘Tell us all about it.’

  And once again her fellow students were looking at her as if she was going to give them the secret of life, the universe and everything. Isabel took he
r time, luxuriating in the feeling.

  ‘So you’ve met Arianna but not Luciano?’ said Georgia.

  ‘He’s supposed to be coming today, I mean tonight,’ said Isabel. ‘But I saw him in Rodolfo’s mirror. He’s terribly good-looking, isn’t he? It’s hard to believe he was once at our school.’

  ‘You think Barnsbury students can’t be good-looking?’ asked Nick.

  ‘Not in that way,’ said Isabel, not looking at Sky. ‘That sort of glamorous film-starry look. Are they all like that in Talia? Even Filippo was attractive, in spite of his scar.’

  ‘Filippo di Chimici?’ asked Matt, clenching his fists.

  ‘No, Filippo Nucci,’ said Isabel. ‘I haven’t met a di Chimici yet.’

  ‘Huh!’ said Matt. ‘Wait till you see Rinaldo. You won’t think all Talians are handsome then.’

  ‘Or Enrico,’ said Sky. That made Matt splutter into his cappuccino.

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Isabel. She felt she still had a lot of catching up to do.

  ‘He’s a spy and an assassin,’ said Sky calmly.

  ‘But he seems to have reformed,’ said Matt. ‘He certainly delivered the goods in Padavia.’

  ‘But what’s all this about the Gate people?’ asked Nick. ‘It sounds as if Talia is expecting rather a lot of you.’

  ‘That’s what I think,’ said Isabel. ‘I don’t know anything about war, let alone ships and things.’

  ‘You could read up about it here, I suppose,’ said Georgia. ‘I mean, on the Net or something.’

  ‘Yes, in between working for AS exams and never having enough sleep,’ said Isabel, surprising herself a bit by not just agreeing in order to be liked.

  ‘OK, point taken,’ said Georgia. ‘But I had to find out about the Palio when I went to Remora.’

  ‘And did it help?’ asked Isabel.

  ‘Not really,’ admitted Georgia. ‘When it comes to whatever you have to do in Talia, when it happens, you just grit your teeth and get on with it. But it might help with some of the other things that happen on the way.’