by Mary Hoffman
Ludo groaned and sank with his head in his hands. This was his fault.
‘Rodolfo has sent word to your uncle, the Pope,’ continued the friar, ‘but he wants you to talk to Caterina too. He thinks that between them they might persuade Fabrizio to leave Fortezza and come home.’
‘I shall go straight away to the palace,’ said Gaetano.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Sulien.
*
The Pope’s man rode to Fortezza with all speed, carrying the Pontiff’s message on a scroll impressively hung about with seals.
When he was shown into the salone of the Rocca, he found the Grand Duke with Duke Alfonso, who had not yet dared to return to Volana.
Both men were relieved by the interruption. But when Fabrizio had broken open the seals, his brow darkened. He might screw the message in his fist but he could not defy a Papal order. He bit his lip and dismissed the messenger with as much courtesy as he could muster.
‘Uncle Ferdinando wants the trials halted,’ he said.
Thank God and the Goddess, thought Alfonso.
‘He does?’ he said aloud. ‘Well, perhaps he is anxious about creating further rebellion among the citizens if they have too many martyrs.’
‘I think you must be right,’ said Fabrizio through clenched teeth. ‘Excuse me, cousin – I must speak with your brother, the Cardinal.’
He left the room in haste and Alfonso breathed a sigh. But he would not have been so relieved if he had known what the Grand Duke was going to talk to the Cardinal about.
For a few days Laura had been able to get her head down and do her exams. But when the last French Literature paper was done, she had to see the therapist again in the afternoon.
Isabel had finished her exams the day before and was waiting for Laura at her house.
‘I’ve got no excuse to stay at your house any longer,’ said Laura, as soon as they were sitting in the garden with a cold drink. ‘My mum wants to take me back home after therapy.’
‘Well,’ said Isabel. ‘You haven’t been stravagating.’
‘I know, but I don’t like to feel I never can again. And I promised Vicky I wouldn’t take the talisman back to my house.’
‘I’ll look after it till you need it again,’ said Isabel. ‘Who knows? We might all get invitations to the Royal Wedding!’
Laura smiled. ‘Delivered by Mortimer Goldsmith?’
‘Nothing would surprise me,’ said Isabel.
‘Do you really think my task is done there?’ asked Laura. ‘That what I had to do was be injured so that Ludo would surrender?’
The stitches had been removed from her right arm – another secret hospital visit with Vicky Mulholland – and she had been able to leave off the bandage. Now she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and the sunlight showed the new scar in all its brutal redness. The one on her left arm was already fainter and had been much smaller to start with.
‘Oh, Lol,’ said Isabel. ‘I don’t know about Talia, but you’ve certainly suffered enough.’
‘Perhaps I can have something done about my arms in a year or two’s time,’ said Laura.
‘I wish you’d told me about what was going on,’ said Isabel, biting her lip. ‘I feel terrible that I didn’t know and didn’t help.’
‘You mustn’t think that. No one could have helped,’ said Laura.
In Remora, the great bell of the Tower in the Campo was tolling – but for no ordinary death, not even one of a great nobleman. The city had lost its Prince, the Pope.
His chaplain had found the vast bulk of Lenient Vl inert in his bed that morning. Nothing seemed suspicious about his death; he was so overweight that an apoplexy could easily have taken him off at any time in the previous ten years.
But Gaetano was uneasy when the sweating messenger arrived in Giglia with the news.
‘No!’ said Francesca. ‘Not poor Uncle Ferdinando?’
‘Thank goodness I am still here to hear it,’ said Gaetano. He had been feeling guilty about dallying in Giglia, with Ludo living as his guest. But now he had to leave for Remora as soon as possible. It wasn’t just to pay respects at his uncle’s funeral; Gaetano would inherit the title of Prince of Remora.
‘Will we have to live there?’ asked Francesca.
‘Of course,’ said Gaetano. ‘If I am to be the next Prince, we must move to the palazzo there. You will like it.’
‘But it’s where poor Falco died,’ said Francesca. ‘I can’t forget his poor thin body lying in the hospital there.’
Gaetano took her hand. ‘And it is also where you agreed to marry me. We must cast aside those sad memories and look forward to the birth of our own child.’
‘It’s not a bad omen, is it?’ asked Francesca. ‘For our own little prince or princess?’
‘No,’ said Gaetano. ‘And for all that he suffered in this world, you know that dear Falco lives again in another place. I told you I saw him in the mirror.’
‘That’s true,’ said Francesca. Her mind was whirling with all the changes that were coming and the plans they would need to make. ‘Will you take Ludo with you?’
‘Yes. It must be a stop on our journey to Romula. I can’t break my word to him. You and I must both go, for Uncle Ferdinando’s funeral.’
‘I wonder who will be Pope next?’ asked Francesca.
‘I don’t know,’ said Gaetano. But he had his own secret fears.
*
Alfonso was back home in Volana when the news came. Like Gaetano, he had his doubts about the Pope’s death and had a similar fear.
‘So soon after my father,’ said Bianca. ‘It seems cruel.’
‘He was a very big man,’ said Alfonso. ‘He was perhaps too fond of life’s luxuries to live long.’ He did not want to share his suspicions with his wife. Especially since they concerned his brother.
*
Genuine tears were shed by Caterina in Giglia. She had loved and admired her uncle. It upset her newly returned husband to see her so bereft.
‘There, there, darling,’ he said. ‘He was an old man.’
‘He was the same age as Uncle Jacopo,’ sobbed the Grand Duchess. ‘We should have had them both for longer.’
‘But perhaps in Ferdinando’s case, his habits were such as to shorten his life,’ suggested Fabrizio. His habit of chastising his nephew particularly, he thought.
‘He did like to indulge his appetite,’ said Caterina. ‘But he was a good man, Rizio. You remember how he baptised little Bino and gave him his first rattle?’
She didn’t add however that the Pope had restrained Fabrizio’s father after the wedding massacre. She had a feeling that her husband shared his father’s lust for bloody vengeance and would not like to be reminded of that day.
There were things now that the young couple did not share, could not talk about.
But any mention of their son, the little prince, always calmed the Grand Duke.
‘Yes, of course I remember,’ he said. ‘We shall miss him. But the conclave must choose another Pope soon. This is a dangerous time for Talia.’
Caterina could not remember when there had ever not been danger in Talia. She trusted her husband about the election of a new Pope, however.
Ms Jewell looked at Laura closely. She had developed a habit of taking in a lot at one swift glance.
Laura was aware of this and ducked her head down behind her hair.
‘How are you?’ asked Ms Jewell.
‘OK,’ said Laura.
In fact she felt weirder than ever. Her adventure in Talia was probably over, Ludo was as out of reach as ever, her exams had finished and she simply didn’t know what to do with the rest of her life. But where could she begin to tell her therapist any of it.
‘I don’t think I can help you, Laura,’ said Ms Jewell unexpectedly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You won’t tell me anything. I can’t help you if you block me out of your feelings.’
‘There are things I can’t tell you,
’ said Laura. She surprised herself by feeling slightly panicked at the thought that Ms Jewell might be dumping her. ‘But I can tell you some of it.’
‘Well, that will be progress.’
‘There’s this boy,’ said Laura slowly. ‘A man really. He’s older than me, about twenty-four.’
Ms Jewell settled back to listen. She knew breakthrough when she heard it.
‘We can’t be together and I can’t tell you why. Just believe me that it’s impossible.’
Married, thought Ms Jewell. He sounds young for that. I wonder how she met him?
‘And he was in danger,’ continued Laura. ‘It was mainly his fault that people got killed.’
The therapist sat up. So this wasn’t what it seemed. Was she going to have an issue with patient confidentiality and the police?
‘And that was how I got hurt,’ said Laura.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Ms Jewell. ‘Are you telling me you didn’t cut yourself? That you aren’t a selfharmer?’
Laura rolled up her sleeves for the second time that day.
‘Not this time,’ she said.
The convoy had left Giglia at last. Francesca was going to follow them to Remora as soon as she had made a few domestic arrangements. Once the funeral was over, she thought they should transfer to the City of Stars as soon as possible.
Gaetano was worrying what to do with Ludo when they reached their destination. The Manoush travelled beside him in silence; he knew he was an unwanted complication. The shock of the Pope’s death had added another problem to their situation.
‘I am sorry,’ he said eventually. It seemed woefully inadequate.
Gaetano drew himself together. He had duties as a prince of Talia.
‘I am sorry too,’ he said. ‘I must not let my fears and troubles distract me. You are under my protection and I shall carry out the task I agreed to. But I’m afraid we’ll have to stay in Remora longer than we would just for a staging post. I have to attend my uncle’s funeral and accept my title.’
‘It makes no difference to me where I am,’ said Ludo.
It was true. Gaetano couldn’t imagine feeling like that. He would have to leave the city where he was born and had lived all his life and happily attended university until the death of his next oldest brother. But he could make a home in Remora, happy with Francesca and the new family they would make. To be honest, he would be glad to be a bit further away from the Grand Duke’s machinations; Fabrizio seemed to be getting more unstable.
But what would he find in Remora? If his fears were justified, another dangerous family member.
He had become less vigilant the further away from Fortezza they had travelled. They still had their ten guards, but no one was expecting the attack when it came.
It was a dozen men on horseback, with muskets, shooting at the guards as they rode towards them from the shelter of a wood.
‘Get down off the horse,’ shouted Gaetano.
Ludo dropped to the ground. Three of the guards had been shot. It would have been easy for the attackers to shoot the horses but they aimed either at the guards or above the horses’ heads. Suddenly, they were surrounded and the guards disarmed.
Two of the attackers held Gaetano. Although the Prince was modest compared to the rest of his family, his horse was much more richly caparisoned than the guards’ and he was an obvious target for robbery.
But it was not robbery the attackers had in mind. Two more of the men, who wore no distinctive livery, grabbed Ludo and bound his arms. They bundled him on to the horse of one of the dead guards and tied him to the saddle.
It was all over in minutes. The remaining guards and Gaetano were bound and gagged and left at the scene while the kidnappers rode off back into the woods.
‘Are you ready to tell me why now?’ asked Ms Jewell.
‘You believe me about this last cut?’
‘I do. And I believed you last time when you said you wouldn’t do it again. But you still haven’t told me anything about why you did it in the first place.’
Laura was silent for a while. This was a bigger thing in her life than being cut by a sword. ‘You know you asked about what my parents expect from me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it’s more about what I expect from myself.’
‘It’s a big responsibility being an only child.’
‘But that’s it,’ said Laura. ‘I’m not actually an only child.’
She had managed to say it at last.
Ms Jewell felt a thrill of unexpected excitement. Bingo!
‘Tell me about your sibling,’ she said, trying to keep her voice even.
‘She’s in a hospital,’ said Laura. ‘She’s not like a normal sister.’
Chapter 22
Lost Silver
In the black and white cathedral in Remora the members of the di Chimici family were again assembled for a funeral. Again without Beatrice, the princess who had been banished from the family by the Grand Duke.
The service was taken by the Bishop of Remora, a figure who had always been overshadowed by having the Pope based in his city but who now had a chance to shine; it would have suggested too much favouritism from the family to use any of the Cardinals, especially since one, Cardinal Rinaldo, actually was a di Chimici family member.
Prince Ferdinando was laid to rest with all the pomp and honours he could have wished; his coffin was enormous and very elaborate. His successor, Prince Gaetano, had a place of honour at the ceremony above his brother, the Grand Duke. He sat in absolute misery, next to Francesca, not so much any more for the known death of his uncle but for the probable death of Ludo the Manoush.
Gaetano had reached Remora with ten guards – seven of them wounded but three as corpses – two days earlier. By then, Fabrizio was in the city and had listened to his brother’s account of the raid and kidnap. He did not seem surprised.
‘These things happen,’ he shrugged. ‘You did your best to protect him, I’m sure. The important thing is that you are safe.’
But Gaetano wasn’t convinced by Fabrizio’s apparent detachment from the ambush.
Now he looked at his brother’s noble profile. He didn’t want to believe Fabrizio was an oath-breaker and, worse, an assassin. Gaetano agreed with Luciano that the person who ordered a murder was as much to blame as the one who carried it out. And he remembered clearly what their father had been like.
Luciano was not in the cathedral; it was far too dangerous for him to be there. Rodolfo was representing the Duchessa of Bellezza.
‘Not many of the older generation left,’ he said to Paolo the Horsemaster.
‘Indeed,’ said Paolo. ‘Only Jacopo of Bellona and old Ferrando of Moresco.’
He nodded to where the princes sat.
‘It is a burden on the young ones to come into their titles so early,’ said Rodolfo. ‘And the balance between us and them is all the more volatile.’
‘But you think well of Gaetano?’ asked Paolo.
‘I do indeed. He is cut from a different cloth, so unlike his father and older brothers.’
‘Then Remora will be all right.’
‘That all depends on the next Pope,’ said Rodolfo.
‘I am going to tie you to the chair and never let you go anywhere again!’ said Arianna.
Luciano laughed and held up his hands. Arianna had been alternating between showering him with kisses and scolding him ever since he had got back from Fortezza.
Rigello, the great spotted cat, was growling softly deep in his throat, unsure whether he was seeing an embrace or an attack.
‘You’re upsetting the cat,’ said Luciano. ‘You must tell him you love me really.’
‘Shh, Gello!’ said Arianna. ‘I am cross with your master, but it will pass.’
‘Why are you cross with me? I came back in one piece, didn’t I?’
‘Only just,’ said Arianna. ‘When I think of the risks you took, going into the middle of the army, letting Fabrizio catch you!’
‘I am here now,’ said Luciano.
‘And not going anywhere!’ said Arianna. ‘Do you realise we are supposed to be getting married in less than a week?’
‘I think of nothing else,’ said Luciano, trying to snatch another kiss.
This time she slapped him and Rigello leapt up and took the Cavaliere’s wrist in his mouth.
‘Ow!’ said Luciano. ‘Tell him to let go. I am totally serious and totally at your disposal. What would you like me to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Arianna. ‘I can’t get used to not worrying about you. Gello, let go. Maybe you should – I don’t know – decide what to wear?’
‘But the wedding is still days away. I’m sure I have something suitable in my room,’ he teased.
Arianna snorted. ‘You clearly have no idea what a wedding is like. I’ve been having fittings for weeks.’
‘I’ve never been to a wedding before,’ said Luciano. ‘And I’m not going to be wearing a dress.’
‘Go and ask Doctor Dethridge what you should be doing. He’s been married twice. He must know.’
But William Dethridge was not to be found; he was closeted with Rodolfo. It was the first time they had had a chance to talk more about Vicky’s stravagation and they wouldn’t have wanted Luciano to be party to that discussion.
‘My opinioune is still in favour of hire stravayging,’ said Dethridge.
‘You are sure?’ asked Rodolfo. ‘Do you think her talisman will be safe from any other accidental stravagation?’
‘Wee moste juste mayke sure yt is somme thynge she would notte parte with,’ said Dethridge.
When Ellen Reid came back to the therapist’s to collect Laura, Ms Jewell asked to have a word with her.
‘It’s all right, Mum,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve told her about Julia.’
Ellen sat down suddenly.
‘I think, Mrs Reid,’ said Ms Jewell, ‘that it would be a good idea for you and your husband to come with Laura for some family therapy.’
‘You think that’s what made Laura cut herself?’ asked Ellen. ‘Because of her sister?’
