Under the force of Orsini’s imagination, the humble donkey grew into a white and silver-haired stallion - its silver tail and mane billowing and flashing in the blue light. Gino's bray began to sound like a whinny: a strange mix of donkey and horse. The dove’s body had subsumed into the stallion’s back, but its wings had become vast, as its DNA combined with Gino’s to hollow out the equid’s skeleton - which lengthened and stretched as the marrow and bones honeycombed. Gino had doubled in size but decreased in weight.
The Professor stumbled back as the Pegasus of Orsini’s creation flapped its wings and almost took flight as it bray-whinnied and yanked at its tether.
‘Quickly, saddle your beast before it flies away’ said the Professor as the blue flames blew off and subsided to leave the fantastical creature resplendent. Gino flexed his shimmering wings in the light. Orsini adjusted the straps of the saddle and flung it onto the beast’s back before it could protest, and strapped it in place. The weight and familiarity of the saddle seemed to calm the beast.
The Cardinal marvelled at his creation, and it seemed Gino was just as shocked at himself. Orsini ran a hand across his smooth fur and silken feathers.
'You're beautiful' he said, as he hugged Gino's neck, 'what would your sister think if she saw you?' he added before he rubbed at Gino's flesh.
The Professor instructed the Cardinal to unpack the leather bag and attach the bottlenecks with twine to the saddle and lodge the bottles in the pockets. The Professor put the scissors back in Orsini's shirt pocket.
‘You must fly towards Saint Anthony’s’ said the Professor, ‘it could already be too late.’ But the Cardinal shook his head.
‘I can't do this. I'm terrified of heights.'
'You must' said the Professor, 'or Illawara will die. It could already be too late?' A stifled cry of anguish gurgled out of Orsini’s throat, before he collapsed to his knees and started to pray.
'Dear God, please have mercy and help me' Orsini begged, and clasped his hands together, 'give me grace and rid me of my fears. Give me strength and courage… Amen.' Orsini crossed himself three times.
'Hurry up!' Exclaimed the Professor, 'Illawara will die if you delay further.' Orsini stood up and nodded.
'Yes, you're right' he said chastened, 'I'm terrified, but I’d rather die trying to save her than lose her’ he added, with a gulp, seeing the elevation of the place.
‘You have no choice’ said the Professor, before gesturing to himself, ‘I can’t save her… in that, I’ve failed.’ Winston pushed the pink bottle of Mystify into the Cardinal’s hand. ‘Squeeze this pump to spray the crowd. A little goes a very long way - they’ll remember you as if you were a dream - which is for the best in your case. Keep yourself downwind, or you too will forget.’ The young Cardinal shook all over, feeling himself to be in a waking dream. ‘The Prosecco is for the flames should they have lit the fires already. Shake the bottles as hard as you can, and yank out the corks with the scissors: the spray can dampen the flames.' The Professor stood back, 'now leave this place’ he commanded, striking his arms through the air, 'it’s time to go.’
The young Cardinal hesitated, but the beast, remembering its master, seemed ready and dipped its wings to expose the saddle. Orsini tugged at his hair and flapped his arms.
'I don't know what to do. I'm afraid' He called out to the Professor.
'You do know what to do, and I suspect you knew it from the first time you saw Illawara' said the Professor. Orsini remembered his dance with Illawara at the Uffizi and how she had lifted and changed his life forever. For those moments she reminded him that he was still alive: that his life could have more meaning. The youth looked at the Professor and nodded, clenched his fists, set his handsome jaw to the sky, leapt onto Gino’s back and gripped upon a tuft of his silver mane. The Professor untethered the animal. The Cardinal felt his stomach flip at the extra elevation of being in the saddle. Padua stretched out before him seeming vast and boundless.
But Orsini's returned youth gave him courage, and with a yell, he threw his fist forward towards the sky.
‘Yah, yah!’ he shouted, and Gino, his winged steed, responded with the instincts of a dove by leaping into the air and giving a powerful downbeat of his wings. The Professor tumbled backwards with the gust, only just missing the hoofs kicked into the void, and he looked on astonished as Gino, and Orsini leapt into the air.
The Cardinal screamed at the top of his lungs - the terror of death that comes with reckless abandon - and at the sheer power of the animal - feeling the full forces of the elements upon him. The Professor thought that Gino hovered above the terrace with the power of a helicopter, as the displaced air from his beating wings pushed the him into the floor. But then, as if inspired, Orsini wolf howled with primal exhilaration at the fulfilment of a boyhood dream, as he and his steed rose higher into the air and the bracing wind. The hairs on Orsini's arms stood on end, and chills raced up and down his spine, as he contracted his muscles to remain upright - every sinew pulling with effort.
On an average day, the Cardinal would have been heard for several blocks if anyone had been around to listen. But apart from Winston only Lucia, those confined to their beds, or those pilfering goods from absent neighbours heard his cries. It seemed that nearly everyone else in Padua had gone to see Illawara’s demise. Orsini then urged his beast forward and abandoned himself to whatever would come.
Lucia looked on stony-faced as she watched the Cardinal swoop through the air. Orsini clung to Gino’s mane as they flew higher above the houses, and the Cardinal felt the adrenalin rush through his blood, like flames, as the wind rippled through his hair. The Professor saw Orsini and Gino fly away and shook his head at one of the most wondrous things he had yet seen in his life.
Some pigeons at rest upon rooftops nearby, curious about what they saw, stirred themselves to accompany the equine in flight. Orsini flew on steering towards Saint Anthony's. Soon the swirling smoke-like movements of starlings followed them as Gino flapped and galloped through the air. Both pigeons and starlings swirled alongside the pair with eager interest.
The starlings, in their collective mind, started to play with their new curiosity and swarmed ahead of Orsini and his flying horse to create a vast swirling tunnel of their beating wings for the pair to fly through.
The pigeons turned acrobatics upon the currents of the tunnelled air, and the downdrafts of the steed, displaying their skills as if to delight both man and beast.
Orsini held on to Gino's neck in amazement, as he saw the tops of Saint Anthony's Basilica come into view. The starlings and the pigeons swarmed around them as they flew on.
‘You are some of the finest of all God’s creatures’ declared Orsini to the spinning vortex of birds. He held onto Gino's mane with one hand, before daring to reach up and touch the encircling birds that whipped through his fingers as they surrounded him and his beast - in a kaleidoscopic whirlpool of iridescent feathers - chattering as they flew on. ‘Bless you all’ he said, throwing back his head with abandon, the cold wind surging around him as Gino beat his powerful wings. ‘What man on Earth can say he has risen to such heights? For I fly with the birds: the freest of all God's creatures.' Orsini then pointed to the sky. 'As I fly with you, he flies within me, and I cannot fail!’ He exclaimed at the top of his voice, before the animals peeled away to continue their flights, and delivered him and his steed back into the uncluttered light. Orsini felt like a deity as his fingers curled through Gino's mane and his mind joined with his winged beast, as both remembered their years of companionship and trust together. The youth then let out whoops of pleasure as the pair flapped and glided towards the field of Saint Anthony’s.
◆◆◆
The crowd at the base of Illawara’s pyre grew impatient as the damp firewood failed to produce a decent flame.
Illawara looked down at the disquiet, keen to get things over with and join the afterlife - the snuff making her mind soar out of her head.
‘Maybe she’s
innocent after all’ muttered some of the bystanders, almost disappointed, ‘it seems the pile will not catch fire.’
‘Tis true’ said another, ‘for even damp wood will burn with enough encouragement, and the men have tossed on oil and many dry bundles - she should be a tower of flames by now.’ But still, the woman in the blue shawl knelt praying unnoticed in plain view by all, except some of the children who pointed and whispered to one another as the adults gossiped.
Then, like a star approaching over the houses, Orsini and his winged steed glided into view. With a sideward glance, the woman of the blue shawl noticed the shining speck and stood to halt her prayers. In that instant, the pyre almost exploded into flames, as if it had been burning for much longer, and many a brow got scorched by the intense heat of the furnace. The crowd hollered with shock and leapt back as people adjusted themselves to a safer distance - the smell of singed hair filling their nostrils.
The woman in blue, graceful and slow, made one last sign of the cross. Her shawl floated around her and glowed in the blaze. She paused unfazed and untouched by the heat before she melted into the crowd unscathed. A few, hushed, children watched her depart as the adults expressed their surprise at the burst, and rubbed at their hot faces.
Illawara saw the flash of light and smelled the smoke before she began to feel the intense heat beneath her. Her Euphoria had abated somewhat with the delay, and the temperature started to become uncomfortable. The Crowd stepped back further as the fire and smoke intensified, and Illawara’s heart began to race as she felt the fire, warp, and crackle at the wood beneath her.
‘I can’t see her anymore - where’s she gone?’ she said to herself as she glanced down at the awestruck crowd, and saw the flames climbing higher. One woman below screamed when the fire made a sudden leap upward. Illawara remembered the small knife that she clung to and began to rub the blade against the threadbare rope, in earnest, as instinct possessed her. Hermes and Bianca let out a screech in unison as they realised Illawara really would die.
Grizelda tried to run away, but Antonio held her fast, and she covered her ears as Illawara let fly with a desperate scream of her own.
‘Face her’ said Antonio, his face streaked with smoke and tears, twisting the maid round ‘you owe her that… WE owe her that.’ With frantic effort, Illawara managed to free herself, but in her panic had cut at her wrist, and almost opened a vein.
She held her tongue to the gash but almost passed out from the heat and the smoke, as she coughed and turned upon the scorching plinth with nowhere to go. She considered jumping for it, but she could break her neck, or legs, or even get attacked by the people and the guards. Illawara saw the edge of her dress catch fire, as her tiara shone in the flames and her hair began to singe. All around her billowed the acrid blackness of smoke, illuminated with orange bursts of flame. Illawara learned the true nature of fire: as an elemental beast that consumes with a desire of its own. She felt it claw and reach for her as if longing to cook her flesh and taste her bones.
In the grip of oblivion, Illawara relived and understood the vision she had in Saint Anthony’s. The Déjà Vu of the moment almost overwhelmed her, as the hissing crackle of flames began to lick and split the platform below her. Proud Illawara: the flame tree - herself going up in flames. The air burned into her lungs. For the first time in her life, Illawara prayed a silent prayer that sprang bold and clear into her mind as if from her soul: God, if you exist, please save me.
Through the smoke, Illawara saw the giant sweep of a glinting wing and the head of a horse. I’m dying she thought, as she raised up her arms to embrace her death, on the verge of collapse. Then she felt cooled by a spray from above, that smelled like wine amongst the intense heat, putting out the flames that had lapped at her dress and scorched her hair and skin. The black choking smoke twisted into eddies under the silver wings. Illawara felt herself pulled upward upon a rush of air, before she glanced into the face of a shining youth she had not seen before, but had eyes she recognised. He tugged her into his lap as they rose, and she thought she saw the air beneath them turn into pink billowing clouds as the youth sprayed the air around him. This is death… I’ve died, and I’m with an angel thought Illawara before she passed out.
Orsini thought his heart would erupt from his chest, it beat so fast, as he and his winged steed swooped above the astonished crowd as he continued to spray the air with Mystify.
‘I think I know what that is. Cover your nose and mouth’ said Hermes to a shocked Antonio, ‘don’t breathe it in or you’ll forget everything.' The crowd looked on in wonderment, many knelt to pray and praise God for sending an angel to them, and the stony-hearted asked for mercy and forgiveness - regretting the destruction they wished upon Illawara.
Grizelda heard Hermes' warning to Antonio and could have followed his advice, but instead, she flung her arms wide, her face streaked with sorrow, to better inhale the pink smoke, and rid herself of her memories.
Dondo and Bianca, like many others, were already asleep upon the ground, when Hermes yanked Antonio away with their shirts over their faces. Once downwind they watched Orsini spray the last of the crowds, swooping low with Illawara flopped in his arms.
'Who is he?' said Hermes before Antonio was overcome with emotion as the pair bore witness to the remarkable feat. With Illawara in his embrace, Orsini rose again into the sky and flew away.
◆◆◆
Lucia had wasted no time in crossing the abandoned street with her belongings, with clean clothes and a dark cloak she had stolen from her host. She entered via the kitchen door, left ajar by a bewildered Cook. The stout woman had ventured upstairs in time to see Orsini’s leap into the air upon his winged steed and had thought she had lost her mind. The sickly stranger she met on the roof terrace tried to explain himself, but Cook could not take in the information he gave her.
Cook crossed at herself in disjointed fashion:
‘He flew, I saw him do it… he FLEW’ she muttered between juddering breaths, in quiet verse, repeating herself over and over.
Lucia found the pair, realised the woman was in shock and whispered something soothing into the Cook’s ear to calm her. Cook sat down, pacified, and watched the mysterious woman help the tall stranger, with tenderness, change his clothes and don a cloak. Cook witnessed the woman tell him detailed information before offering to help him find all his belongings and make ready to leave.
‘Wait’ said the Professor to his companion, ‘I must leave directions for Illawara to the Hermeporta you located. She must get away from this time and place; she doesn’t belong here.’ Lucia nodded.
‘Let’s find a quill and paper’ she said. Lucia helped the Professor down the stairs, and scanned Orsini’s room for a writing desk, and found one in the corner. She paused for a moment when she spied the Henchman passed out on the chair but did not ask why.
Lucia then shuddered within herself as she saw some of Orsini’s belongings, but ignored her feelings to carry on. She helped the Professor over to the desk where he wrote a letter, in wobbling hand, to Illawara in English with the directions Lucia told him for the lagoon Hermeporta. He folded the paper and wrote Illawara’s name on it before he handed it to Lucia.
‘Tell the woman upstairs, I think she's the cook, that she must keep this letter and give it to Illawara - describe her, so she’ll know who she is.’ Lucia obeyed and hurried to the roof terrace to do his bidding.
The Professor glanced over his shoulder to check Lucia had gone before he scrawled a letter to Orsini in rapid Italian with instructions on how to use the wound healing spray - in anticipation of Illawara’s injuries. He sprayed some of the liquid on himself where he pained most, and folded the paper in haste. He heard Lucia’s steps upon the stairs, and placed the green vial of Wound-heal atop the letter. Winston then took up his carry case and hurried to the door as fast as his balance would allow, to meet Lucia upon the stairs and leave.
◆◆◆
With one arm Orsini embraced Illawar
a’s limp body, as he saw the roof terrace approach, but covered her face with kisses as he flew on - making a return for home. Cook rocked herself in half slumber, upon one of the benches, with the Professor’s letter deep in her apron pocket, and Lucia's whispered instructions still fresh upon her ears. Illawara’s scorched hair and clothes smelled like wine mixed with a bonfire, but Orsini nuzzled her cooling neck to sniff her skin which smelled sweet to him.
‘My great beguiling beauty’ he said, his voice shaken with emotion, as his steed began to descend, ‘I’ve loved thee from the first moment I saw you. I know it now as sure as there’s a sun in heaven.’ Illawara was unconscious to the world, as her matted scorched hair ruffled in the wind.
Orsini held onto Gino's mane as the beast descended, but rubbed at one of Illawara's limp hands, to keep it warm and saw that she still wore his mother’s signet ring. Orsini's heart swelled with hope as he clung on to her. ‘Nothing else matters to me' he whispered into her ear, 'no one else could ever eclipse you. For as long as I live I’ll gladly risk my life and limbs to protect you’ said Orsini. ‘You’re my inspiration, my life… my Andromeda.’
Chapter 28
Passion
Padua, Saturday 23rd of December 1611
Orsini held on tight to Gino’s mane and Illawara, as the beast attempted his first landing, rearing up his hooves, as his wings beat with a frenzy to hover down out of the air. Orsini felt his hips moved by the powerful muscles of Gino's back, and his ears tested by the whirring throb of wing sinews, air currents, and the rubbing of feathers. They landed with a bounce, but intact, as Cook’s apron blew up to almost cover her face. She looked on impassive, in the drizzle that had begun to fall again, and watched in silence as Gino folded his wings, along his body, before Orsini dismounted with Illawara slung over his shoulder.
Beyond the Raging Flames Page 39
