by David Blixt
The assemblage let out something akin to a collective sigh.
Ludovico Capulletto leapt back up to his feet. "The Capulletti do not! Do you hear me? We do not! The Capulletti — a name we only undertook to oblige the father of this bride-thief — does not accept this match! We demand justice!"
"I understand what you demand, Ludovico," said Cangrande with hard patience. "But I have not yet heard from the member of your family most wounded in this affair." His voice became gentle. "Antony. What do you have to say?"
The moment dragged out. Pietro could plainly see Antony didn't want to speak at all. He looked at Gianozza, then at Mariotto. His head shook slightly, his lips parted, but no words came out.
Mariotto released his bride's hand and crossed to his friend. Ludovico moved to intercept him, but a sharp look from Cangrande froze the aggrieved father in his tracks.
Reaching the place where Antony sat, broken leg extended, Mariotto halted. Bowing his head, he knelt before his best friend.
Antony's head raised slightly, and it seemed for a moment he might actually speak. But his head sagged again, eyes falling away from Mariotto.
This was too much for Ludovico Capulletto. Grasping one of his son's crutches, Ludovico swung it at Mariotto's head, catching Mari across the temple.
The crack split the silence in the hall. Mariotto hit the floor, poleaxed. Gianozza cried out and ran to kneel by Mariotto. Gargano Montecchio stirred, then kept resolutely to his seat.
The Scaliger leapt to the elder Capulletto's side, gripping the brandished crutch with white knuckles. "Ludovico! Stand down! Stand down, or I'll have you arrested!"
Purple-faced, sweat streaming, Antony's father released his grip on the crutch and stepped back from the Capitano. "See what this has done to my son! He is unable even to speak! I demand justice! It is unfair to deny us recourse to the Court of Swords. If the law was fit enough to mete out justice yesterday, let it be today. Enforce your new rules tomorrow, Capitano, but for this one day allow us to avenge our honour in the best way we know how!"
Ludovico's voice was joined by a score of the gathered nobles as he clamored for a duel. The nobility wanted this duel carried out, even if Cangrande did not. Searching for an objection, the Capitano observed, "Antony is not well enough to stand, let alone fight a duel. And I will not permit you, Ludovico, to face a man a third your age in this ridiculous matter."
There came a choked sound from Antony. The Scaliger held up a hand for silence. "What was that, Ser Capulletto?"
With great deliberation, Antony rose from his seat. Blinking back tears, he spoke. "I am fit."
Ludovico crowed his delight. Cangrande shook his head. "I won't allow it."
"My lord — " Ludovico began.
Again the Scaliger cut him off. "No!"
"My lord," said a voice from the bench of the Anziani, "may I speak?"
Cangrande sighed in relief. Ascending the dais, he resumed his seat. "Lord Montecchio, please. The floor is yours."
Dark robes swirling about him, the patriarch of the Montecchi clan rose and strode into the center of the room. Ludovico glowered. Cangrande sat in patient attendance. Pietro thought that here, at least, was a staunch ally for Cangrande's ban on dueling. If there was one man who could attest to the terrible damage it could effect, it was Gargano Montecchio, who had lost father, brothers, uncles, and wife to the terrible strife of a feud.
In a strained version of his usual measured tones, Montecchio began. "Dueling is a practice traced back to Biblical times. Cain and Abel, unable to settle their claim in any other way, agreed to stand the test of a duel. The ancient pagans settled matters in much the same way. The Umbrians of old held that trial by combat was just as fair as trial by jury. Homer tells of the duel between Paris and Menelaus to prove who held the right to Helen.
"All these could be the acts of barbarians, using their physical might to overpower the law. Through the tale of David and Goliath, though, we see clearly how divine will leads to a just conclusion in a legally constituted duel. Charlemagne urged trial by combat for his men, saying it was preferable to the shameless oaths his knights gave with such ease. What is war, if not dueling writ large? In battle, God chooses the side of right and lends His strength to the sword of justice. So it is in a duel. Not in a brawl or ambush, but a legal duel, with rules and witnesses."
Cangrande was frowning as Montecchio turned to face the injured Mariotto. "I had planned, after today's events, to disown my son. His actions have betrayed every trust placed in him. The trust of his lord, his friends, his father. I have no other son, but I have a daughter whose loyalty and fidelity lie in quantities unknown by her brother." Lord Montecchio's head swept the crowd. "But I have changed my mind. The honourable Lord Capulletto demands a duel. It is my opinion that his demands must be honoured. Better this duel takes place now, with due weight of law behind it, than on some future day in a back alley or tavern. Let justice be done! Instead of spouting meaningless oaths and apologies, let my son defend with his body the deed that has set him apart from us. He claims that his cause is love, the noblest banner to raise. Let him prove it. If he dares to face this challenge, he may still bear the name he has shamed this day."
Cangrande looked understandably grim. The walls were closing in upon him. "And if Antony cannot fight for himself, who will represent the Capulletti in this matter?"
"Let him choose a champion," replied Montecchio. "Perhaps his brother-"
"I'll be that champion!"
Heads turned as Pietro pushed past the crowd to stand in the open. Looking up, Antony gave Pietro the barest nod. Whereas Mari, still unable to stand unaided, stared at Pietro in open disbelief.
Among the visibly startled was Cangrande. "Pietro — Ser Alaghieri. You would fight in Antony's place?"
"I would, and I will," said Pietro.
"Why?"
"Because, my lord, I knew something of the attraction between these two last night and I did nothing to stop it."
"Pietro, it's not your-" began Mari, only to have his father cut sharply across him. "Mariotto! Be silent, you cur!"
The Scaliger continued. "As I recall, Ser Alaghieri, you had other things on your mind last night."
"It is no excuse, my lord. You knighted me yesterday." Closing his eyes, Pietro quoted: "To become a knight is to take upon you the responsibility of being God's sword of Justice here on earth. A knight rights wrongs. A knight protects the innocent. A knight listens to the words of the Lord." He opened his eyes again to gaze at Cangrande. "I let this happen, my lord. It is a stain on my honour."
Quoting the Capitano's own words was almost unfair. Still Cangrande tried. "Isn't Mariotto your friend?"
Pietro looked at the pained, bewildered expression on Mari's face. "He is, my lord."
"Yet you're willing to fight him?"
Pietro made certain he was looking directly forward. "He just took a powerful blow, my lord. I do not think he is fit to duel at this time. I would suggest another champion take his place."
Now the look Cangrande gave Pietro was disgusted. He'd caught on. "You have someone in mind? The accused's aged father, perhaps?"
"No, my lord, though I am sure Lord Montecchio is as able as ever he was." The blood pumping through him was making him rush his speech. He had to force himself to make each word clear. "In all this, no one has mentioned the role of the lady. She, too, had a choice in this affair."
"You wish to fight the bride?" Cangrande's amusement stopped just shy of his eyes. He was attempting to shame Pietro, belittle him into retracting his challenge.
In response, Pietro removed a glove and clutched it tightly in his bare hand. "No, my lord. I propose the person who tied these two together. Ser Carrara is intimately tied to this union. Related to one, he chose the other. If he believes in this marriage, let him defend it with his life!" That said, Pietro hurled down his gage.
Over the shocked gasps of the crowd Marsilio tried to push his way over to take up the gauntlet, shouting,
"I accept! I accept!"
"You do not!" cried Il Grande, leaping forward to slap his nephew across the face.
"The Capulletti do not-!"
"The Montecchi will not allow another to wear our sins!"
"Quiet! Quiet! Be still!" The Scaliger shouted them all into silence. "Ser Alaghieri. My gratitude to you runs deep. But I cannot allow this to proceed. My decree on this matter is law."
"Actually, lord, that isn't true." Guglielmo del Castelbarco rose from his prominent place on the front bench. A senior member of the Anziani, he carried with him the weight of both money and valour. "You have followed the tradition started by your noble uncle, the great Mastiff, in that only when your decrees are written and properly noted do they become law."
"Then write it down," snapped Cangrande. "I will not have my city endure the strife of a feud!"
Studying the ceiling, Passerino Bonaccolsi remarked, "I don't know how it is in Verona, but in Mantua all such decrees have to be witnessed by the Anziani, in a duly commissioned session."
Growing testy, Cangrande glanced about at the assembled nobility. "I declare the Council of City Elders is in emergency session. I call for a voice count of those present to form a quorum." He began calling off names, the first being Guglielmo del Castelbarco. Castelbarco remained silent. By the time Cangrande had gone through the entire list of the nobles present, not one had raised his voice.
"I see," said the Scaliger in a dangerous tone. "Lacking a quorum, we cannot proceed." He strode down off the dais, past Pietro, to stand in the center of the hall. In freezing tones he addressed the city elders. "You want this duel to take place. Do you realize what a duel means? I will leave aside the fact that one of those challenged is from a neighbouring commune, with whom we are newly at peace. Instead I say, think back! Remember the days when the feud between these clans rampaged through our streets! Remember the innocents caught in its midst! Recall the dead and dying in the back alleys — for it was outlawed then! It was illegal because it was immoral! That dueling is still permitted is an oversight on the part of my brother Bartolomeo. Do you remember why he reinstated dueling? To finish what had started in blood with the only thing that could end it — blood! The last blood of the Capelletti! Until yesterday we had none to bear the name, for they were all dead! Buried! Lost, not to lawful wars or foreign devils, but to our own idiocy!"
He turned to face Mariotto's father. "My lord Montecchio, look past your anger. You of all people know what such a feud can cost!" The Scaliger turned again towards the crowd. "Think well on this — if we allow another feud to stain our city's honour, it will swallow us whole! Count on it! Hate begets hate! One duel will not satisfy honour, especially in matters of the heart. When money is stolen, it can be repaid. When land is lost, it can be recompensed. But once blood is spilled, it can never be recovered! It can only be satisfied by more of its own! Blood will have blood! Think well before you unleash yet another blight on our fair city! I speak now, not as your Prince, but as your fellow citizen! Think of us, think of how you want Verona to be remembered!"
He turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning their faces. They had heard, but were not prepared to listen.
"Very well. I could call out my men-at-arms and force an end to this foolishness. But I will not be that kind of tyrant. Because you insist, I will allow this one night of madness — if you will swear to me that, at sunrise tomorrow, you will all sign into law my decree against dueling. If I do not get that oath from you, elders, I swear by all I hold dear that I will call up my troops this very minute."
The Anziani were magnanimous in victory. Each assured their Capitano that they would sign his decree into law the next day and defend it ever after with their lives.
"I require another oath, this from the fathers. Ludovico, Gargano — you must swear on all that you hold dear, on your fortunes and your very lives, that as long as you both shall live there will be no reprisals. Whatever the outcome, this duel must be the end of the matter."
Gargano said he would gladly swear, since he held no grievance with the noble house of Capulletti. Ludovico grudgingly nodded his head and signaled his consent. Cangrande considered them both briefly, then closed his eyes. "Marsilio — take up his gage."
Carrara pushed past his uncle to take up Pietro's gauntlet. Lifting it above his head, he crushed it in his closed fist. "I accept the challenge!"
"Then let's get this over with. One hour, in the Arena!" With that, Cangrande stalked from the chamber.
The crowd erupted into excited noise. Mercurio left the pack of dogs to pad over to his master, who was breathing hard. The hound licked his hand, and Pietro patted him absentmindedly as he wondered if he'd live through the night. He heard a myriad of voices calling out to him, wishing him luck. Pietro ignored them, eyes fixed on Marsilio da Carrara arguing furiously with his uncle across the hall. In the midst of the old man's speech, young Carrara turned on his heel and stalked away. His path took him away from Pietro, but the bastard remembered to turn before leaving to send a mocking salute Pietro's way.
A heavy hand landed on Pietro's shoulder. "What on earth were you thinking?" demanded Dante, sotto voce.
Beside Pietro's father appeared a bright-eyed Poco and a glowering girl who looked familiar. He blinked, recognizing a disapproval he'd often seen in his mother. "Antonia!"
He made to embrace her, but she brushed his arms aside. "Answer our father! What are you thinking? Are you trying to ruin his relationship with a patron? How dare you oppose the will of our father's host?"
"A valid, if erroneous, assumption, my Beatrice," murmured Dante, patting her gently on the arm. "I was referring to the idiocy of issuing a challenge to one of the best-trained knights in the Feltro while he can barely hold himself upright without the aid of that crutch."
"I'll manage," said Pietro. "I can run a little, I proved that last night."
"If you are bent on self-immolation, I cannot stop you. But why demand to fight Carrara?"
"Mari's being a fool, but Carrara created the situation."
"You can't win, though," opined Jacopo.
Pietro took a deep breath. "I can if I'm right."
"Are you?" asked his father.
"Yes, he is!" Ludovico Capulletto came up to repeatedly shake Pietro's hand. "Thank you, boy, thank you! It's no small thing to have such a noble young man stand up to take your side in a quarrel. No one can sneer at our claim now, much as the Capitano might try."
"I'm not doing this to spite Cangrande," said Pietro carefully. "Antony was wronged. And I believe it was Carrara who wronged him. This is my way to prove it. Where is Antony?"
"Right here." The corpulent Capulletti patriarch stepped aside to let his son hobble past. Antony's voice was surprisingly soft as he clutched Pietro's hand. "Anything you want, Pietro. I'll give you anything I have."
"I don't want anything from you, Antony," said Pietro. "I'm doing what I think is right."
Antony ducked his head. "Hell, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. It's just — " Tears came to his eyes as he lifted one of his crutches. "I can't — and why — why did he — Why?"
This last tortured cry hit the awful truth of it. It wasn't Gianozza's betrayal that wounded him the most. It was Mari's.
Pietro's sister stepped into the awkward moment, suggesting Antony move along to the Arena since it would take him some time to get there. Pietro, she added, had to arm himself. Nodding, Antony let his grumbling father and brother lead him out.
"She's right," said Pietro. "I have to go arm myself."
"You didn't answer my question," said Dante.
"Which is?"
"Are you in the right? Think back to last night. Yesterday, these two families were as thick as thieves. Today, they are at each other's throats. The girl is just an agent of the stars, Pietro. The fault may lie in taking up a name better left dead. The Montecchi and the Capulletti may be destined to war forever."
Pietro shook his head. "I can't fight an eternal war, only this fight, this min
ute."
"Between you and this Carrara boy," said the poet shrewdly. "Your own private feud. He already took your ability to run. Is he worth dying for?"
"Your son is in the right. He has to know that." Still seated on his bench, Gargano Montecchio looked very tired. "What you point out, Maestro Alaghieri, is not lost on me. Nor did I miss that this ancient feud is being resurrected on the very spot where I laid it to rest — the Arena. It is ironic, is it not, that you are here to once again chronicle the perfidious follies of the Capulletti and Montecchi?" Mariotto's father rose to his feet. "But your son is in the right. I believe you once said the stars influence us, but we do have free will to interpret them. My son has chosen his path. Now he must tread it. I am just sorry-" At a loss for more words, he laid a hand on Pietro's swordarm. "God be with you." With that, Lord Montecchio departed the chamber.
No one knew what to say. A steward entered, bowing to Pietro and saying he'd been sent by the Scaliger to help arm.
Pietro said to his father, "Look after Mercurio for me."
Dante told Jacopo to go help his brother. As the two young men followed the steward, Antonia gripped her father's arm. "What can we do?"
"We can pray, my Beatrice. We can pray, and leave it to God."
They exited, leaving the hall empty save for two men: Ignazzio da Palermo and Theodoro of Cadiz.
"We must make a chart for this remarkable young man whose life is now at risk."
