Tallow

by Karen Brooks

  Work was initially a problem as Gaia tried to keep Tallow in the shop with her. But, as Renzo and Colzo pointed out, Tallow's skills as a candlemaker would be very useful because the two crafts were so similar. Gaia reluctantly conceded. Tallow knew that while it was good to have Gaia on side, she would have to do something lest the kind old woman accidentally reveal her sex.

  There was another reason Tallow wanted to help in the workshop. Not only did she get the chance to meet Dante's other relatives; most importantly, she was able to work side by side with Dante.

  Each day she observed him from under her floppy cap, and listened to how he teased his cousins and cajoled his aunts and uncles. When Dante was around, the misery that had tainted their lives seemed to flee. Even boiling the putrid fat and scooping the render became a game, an adventure, and all because Dante made it so. She saw how he'd ensure he was by Renzo's side when something heavy had to be lifted, or become Zia Faluza's eyes when the light grew too dim for her to see the fat she was slicing into bars of soap. When the babies needed comforting, it was Dante who scooped them out of the crib and danced them across the workshop floor, through the steam and into the street, laughing and pulling faces.

  'He's a treasure, that boy!' the widow Zia Dulmia would claim, her hands on her sizeable hips, a smile spread across her freckled countenance. 'A real tresoro, priceless.'

  Tallow didn't need it pointed out. She was beginning to see how much his family relied upon him, especially now.

  Dante had always seemed to be a carefree, impulsive young man who ducked his responsibilities and wove unrealistic dreams. But as the days flew by and she saw how he interacted with his family and neighbours and listened to his plans for the future, she understood that he was much more than that. For Tallow it was heartbreaking that people like Dante, like her, were trapped in a world not of their making, where roles and rules were imposed long before they were ever born.

  At night, long after supper had been cleared away, they would all sit around a small fire and share talk of neighbours and others who had drifted into the quartiere. Gaia would tell them who had come into the shop that day and what losses they'd suffered over the last weeks. Or she would report stories of hope and rebuilding, and they would raise their mugs in a toast and offer prayers to God.

  From time to time, Tallow became aware of the others' lingering glances and her heart would thud. She knew they were curious about her and her eyes. Gaia had told them that she was half-Jinoan and that seemed to satisfy them for a while, but Tallow knew that the aunts and uncles were discomforted by her appearance. Once she caught Zia Dulmia making the sign of the evil eye over her baby after Tallow had comforted him. But no-one confronted her directly and, certainly, Renzo and Gaia showed no inclination to ask her to leave.

  One night Tallow noticed that Gaia was quieter than usual. During lulls in the conversation, her face had turned towards Tallow, a frown creasing her brow. When Tallow had looked at her questioningly, Gaia had given her a distracted smile and turned away.

  Tallow tried to shrug off the uneasiness that marred what was otherwise, for her at least, an idyll.

  MIDDAY PASSED AND ALREADY TALLOW had been in the workshop for over six hours. It was a warm autumn day and a mild breeze drifted from the calle that ran along the rear and in through the workshop door. Feeling hot and sticky after working over the tub of fat, Tallow dragged a stool towards the wide rear entrance. Confined to the house since she had arrived, she hadn't yet explored the neighbourhood, although Dante promised they would soon.

  Out there in the fresh air, she was able to breathe again. While the smell in Pillar's workshop had on occasion been unpleasant, it didn't compare to the stench of chandling. She took some deep breaths and, perching herself on the stool, looked around. Behind her, the vats were bubbling merrily; directly in front, a huge block of soap was hardening in the sun.

  She'd only just sat down when Renzo strolled outside and handed her a hunk of bread and some cheese. 'Here,' he said. 'Enjoy. You've earned it.'

  Tallow took the food gratefully. 'Thank you.'

  Renzo smiled and then looked up and down the calle. From beneath the brim of her hat, Tallow followed his gaze. A number of people were looking in their direction but quickly looked away when they saw Renzo scowling fiercely at them. 'I don't think it's a good idea for you to sit out here, Tallow,' he said.

  Tallow was surprised. 'Really?' She waited for an explanation. It didn't come. 'I won't be long. I just need some air. The fat –' She patted her belly and pulled a face.

  Renzo smiled. 'Yes, it can be overpowering for those who aren't used to it.' He squeezed Tallow's shoulder. 'Five minutes. No more.' He cast one more glance up the calle and strode back inside.

  Waiting for her stomach to settle so she could eat, Tallow fed titbits to Cane who, tied to a stool nearby, sat obediently at her feet. Tallow had been forced to tie him up to stop him barking and bounding after the passers-by.

  Biting into the bread, Tallow chewed slowly, enjoying the activity around her. In front of her the long, wide calle was filled with businesses, workshops and warehouses. For the first time since Serenissima was declared disease free, vendors had finally returned to the nearby piazzetta and shops – many with new owners.

  As a result, people slowly wandered from the piazzetta back to the calle. Custom had started to pick up and, for Dante's family at least, there were large orders to fill. Tallow watched as children ran beneath their mothers' skirts, bumping their shopping baskets as they wandered from store to store. In a huddle not too far away, a group of washerwomen sat on their small stools hard at work. In the chandlers' workshop opposite, the new owners laboured over their vats, calling out to each other, and occasionally sending one of their apprentices over to ask a question of Renzo or Colzo.

  A gangly young apprentice emerged out of the doorway across the calle and approached her. His apron was filthy, his cheeks and hands carrying the burns typical of his status. Her hands used to look like that too, she thought. That was until she made those candles – the candles that saved so many in her quartiere. Her thoughts, as they often did, drifted to Pillar. She wondered how he was faring without his apprentice. Did he miss her?

  'Er, scusi,' said the apprentice. Tallow guessed he would have been her age. 'Is Signor Colzo there?'

  'Inside,' she said, jerking her thumb behind her.

  The apprentice nodded and wandered in, his eyes wide. He glanced at Tallow over his shoulder, almost crashing into a vat.

  He wasn't the only one staring.

  What Tallow failed to notice as she lost herself in memories were the eyes that lingered on her, the faces that stared through the secrecy of shop windows; the swift glances and quick nods. Neither did she hear the whispers that attended her any time she was even glimpsed in the calle.

  The young apprentice wandered out and back to his own workshop, his neck twisted round so he could look at Tallow for as long as possible.

  Tallow might not have noticed the attention she was receiving, but Dante did.

  So did his family.

  A gentle tap on the shoulder interrupted her musings.

  'Tallow?' It was Gaia. 'I think you should come inside now.' Gaia draped an arm around her and coaxed her in the door. Making sure Tallow was safely out of sight, she stepped back into the calle. 'What are you lot looking at?' she shouted, her arms raised in the air. Some faces turned away, others stared brazenly at her. Her ire began to rise. 'He's just a boy. A good boy, do you hear me? Leave him alone.' She shook her fist at them.

  'What's going on?' asked Tallow as Gaia stormed back in. She'd heard every word.

  The entire family stopped their excited babbling and stared at Tallow in silence. 'What is it?' Tallow half-laughed, looking at Dante for an explanation. He folded his arms and refused to meet her eyes.

  Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, Tallow lowered her head and scraped her foot backwards and forwards through the sawdust, tracing patterns. 'Have I done so
mething wrong?'

  No-one spoke.

  Gaia made a noise of exasperation and took a step towards Tallow, but, before she could say anything, Zia Dulmia spoke.

  'Is it true?' she asked.

  Tallow felt a familiar coldness creep over her body. Gaia stopped in her tracks. 'Is what true?'

  Zia Dulmia glanced at her sister who gave an encouraging jerk of her head. 'That he has magic powers.'

  'Magic?' Tallow still didn't raise her head. She wanted to laugh, but she couldn't. She was afraid it would turn into a moan.

  'No.' It was Renzo. 'More than magic,' he said, putting down his lunch and stepping closer. He indicated to Dante to shut the door.

  It rattled noisily as it was pulled shut.

  Renzo bent down until his face was level with Tallow's. Placing a long, calloused finger under her chin, he gently raised it. 'It is true,' he said, his eyes locked on hers. 'It's more than magic. It's who you are. You bear the mark, the true sign. Eyes like mirrors, the legends say. In my lifetime, I never expected to see ... You are an Estrattore. A descendant of the old gods.'

  There were some gasps and many nods.

  Tallow backed away, looking from one to the other. 'No, no, I'm not. Really. You're wrong.' She focused on Renzo, compelling him to look her in the eyes. 'I'm not. I'm half-Jinoan. I'm not an Estrattore ...'

  Renzo's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

  Tallow began to draw on her talent. She raised her arm, reaching for him. All she had to do was touch him ...

  'Don't be frightened, Tallow,' said Gaia softly.

  Tallow's arm dropped.

  Gaia came forward, a smile on her face. 'We are no threat to you, not after what you did for us.' Her smile fled when she saw her father transfixed, unable to look away from Tallow. 'Don't do this, Tallow. I promise. We aren't going to hurt you or turn you over to the authorities.'

  'How do I know that?' said Tallow finally, breaking eye contact with Renzo. The old man shook his head. Dazed, he rose to his feet.

  A sense of inevitability pricked Tallow's purpose. Her fiery resolve to maintain her masquerade shattered into a thousand painful shards. It was over. There was no point pretending any more. She looked around. The uncles couldn't meet her eyes, and the aunts tried to smile but their mouths trembled too much. Zia Dulmia made the sign to ward away evil over and over. The children simply stared. Tallow was trapped, helpless but she would not, could not surrender. Not yet. Sadness bubbled in her chest. 'How do I know that you won't tell the soldiers or the padres and claim the reward?'

  'Because we're your friends, remember.' From behind her, Dante stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, his long fingers resting lightly on her shirt. The warmth of his touch, the truth of his words penetrated her clothes and sank into her flesh, resonating through her body as she opened her mind to what lay in Dante's core and found something so real and terrifying –

  'Don't touch me!' she cried, spinning around and breaking free of his grasp. 'Oh, please, don't touch me! You don't understand.'

  'Tallow –' protested Dante, and went to reassure her again. Gaia opened her arms wide, her face flooded with sympathy. Renzo shakily held out his hand. The uncles stepped towards her, followed tentatively by the aunts. They were all talking, promising, coaxing.

  Pressure began to build in Tallow's head. She thought she was going to fly apart.

  A sibilant chorus began chanting in her mind. Images of burning bodies, their limbs cruelly hacked off, danced before her. Wicked laughter followed by vicious taunts rose out of the whispers. Katina's words followed by Pillar's warnings overlapped with Quinn's threats, became louder and louder.

  And underneath it all, like a forceful current, the murmuring continued.

  Don't listen, Tallow. They'll turn on you; they always do. Their promises are poison upon which you sup at your own peril ...

  It was more than Tallow could take.

  Before anyone could stop her, she bolted to the door, wrenched it open and fled into the calle.

  Outside, a group of people had congregated. As the door opened, they froze and fell silent. When Tallow burst out of the workshop, they paused in surprise before beginning to whisper to each other.

  Tallow stopped in mid-stride, bewildered. Who were all these people? What were they doing here? Why were they staring at her like that?

  'That's him! That's the candlemaker's apprentice!' declared a lone voice. The cry was taken up. 'It's the angel of mercy. Stop him!'

  From inside the workshop, Cane began to bark, straining at his ties. Tallow didn't wait to hear more. Pushing people aside, she fled.

  Momentarily confused and a little frightened, they allowed Tallow to pass. They hadn't expected the person they were discussing to materialise. They watched her for a few more seconds and then, as if waking from a dream, broke into a run after her, shouting, ordering him to stop.

  'Oh, God!' moaned Dulmia, running to the door. 'I didn't mean for –'

  'None of us did, none of us,' said Renzo sombrely, comforting his daughter.

  'We should have spoken out earlier – after the rumours started. We should have known it would be like this,' said Gaia, shaking her head. 'All the talk, the whispers, the accusations.'

  'All the questions,' agreed Dulmia.

  They watched helplessly as Tallow rounded the corner, the crowd closing on his heels.

  Dante grabbed Gaia's arm. 'I have to go after him. Make sure he's all right.'

  'Of course you do,' agreed Gaia. 'Bring him back to us. He can't help what he is.'

  Dante stared at his great-aunt and nodded. 'How will I know where he's gone?'

  'Take the dog,' said Renzo, untying Cane from the stool. 'He'll know.'

  'Right!' said Dante and, winding the rope around his wrist, led Cane onto the cobbles. Cane pulled and tried to run. 'Find Tallow, boy,' he said. 'Take me to him!' Cane let out a volley of barks and, with a flick of his tail, bounded up the calle.

  Dante gave his family a quick wave before being dragged out of sight.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The spy vanishes

  VINCENZO DI TORELLO REGARDED GIACONDA suspiciously.

  'You say you know Signor Barbacan?'

  The nobile woman swallowed her annoyance. Was the taverna owner being cautious or deliberately obtuse?

  'He was working for my father,' she said, careful not to place her gloved hands anywhere near the sticky counter. 'He was being paid to seek business opportunities in this sestiere on behalf of a client. He is overdue with his reports. Considering that the outbreak was particularly severe in your area, and the danger has now passed, my father thought he would call in person. He seeks to firstly inquire as to Signor Barbacan's health, and, secondly, find out why the reports are no longer reaching him.'

  Vincenzo glanced over the woman's shoulder at the old man who had entered with her. He sat smoking a fragrant pipe at one of the tables, one leg outstretched, his cane resting against a chair. While he appeared not to listen, Vincenzo knew he hung on every word. The tobacco he blew around the room smelled like quality, and the woman's haughty manner certainly bespoke a class that did not frequent this taverna. But their clothes contradicted their airs. Made from the finest material, they were faded and patched and, while he couldn't be certain, he thought they were out of fashion.

  Vincenzo couldn't work the woman out. She looked like a nobile, but she certainly didn't act like one. No nobile woman would ever enter an establishment like his, father or no father, or address the proprietor in such a forward manner. If they were so concerned about Barbacan, why didn't they send a servant? Affable enough, Barbacan was very private and seemed to prefer his solitude. But if this woman was a courtesan, as he suspected, why would she want to see Barbacan's room? No matter the reason, Vincenzo didn't like it. One thing his clients could count on was his discretion. He wouldn't let anyone, regardless of who they purported to be, enter a guest's room.