by Den Patrick
‘My lord,’ said the relief sergente cheerfully. The scent of wine was strong.
‘Are you all drunk or simply negligent?’
The men stared at him, sullen and silent in equal measure.
‘Not drunk, my lord, just something to help through the small hours.’
Dino stepped back and appraised the men. They were hardly fighting fit, nor were they in their cups.
‘Very well. Try and stay alert, Sergente, you know?’
The walk back to Demesne was a lonely one. Robbed of the chance to unburden himself, he visited the kitchens instead.
‘Just something to help through the small hours,’ he whispered to himself. A vintage Barolo and Achilles were his only companions until sleep claimed him, but his dreams were heady and explicit, leaving him more desperate than ever to confide in someone.
But who could he tell such a secret to?
19
The Underneath
– 19 Luglio 325
‘And this is where you saw them?’ Massimo regarded the uneven landscape of roofs and towers pointing toward the star-flecked sky.
‘I hid behind this chimney.’
The day’s heat had cooled, a breeze drifting in from the north. Heavy cloud occluded the moon, making the difficult footing treacherous.
‘What in nine hells were they doing all the way up here?’ said Massimo.
‘The same thing I was doing, I expect – spying.’
‘It’s a good way to get from one side of Demesne to the other without being seen,’ admitted the swordsman.
‘It also provides access to a lot of windows and balconies if you’ve the stomach for the climb.’
‘So what now?’ Massimo pulled his collar up. He wore a charcoal-grey three-quarter-length jacket, so different to his usual attire. ‘Are we just going to lurk here all night and hope they pass by?’
‘Unless you have a better idea?’ Dino smiled. ‘Advice on tracking mysterious bandits is hard to find, you know?’
‘I can believe it. Where do you want to stand watch?’
Dino pointed to the vast swell of the Ravenscourt and the steep curve of the dome. Swordsman and Orfano picked their way across the rooftops on silent, if hesitant, feet.
‘I’m glad we’re not trying to do this at night, without torches,’ said Massimo after he’d slipped the second time. Both times he’d regained his balance. ‘How are we supposed to fight them if we can’t see them?’
‘Your eyes will get used to the dark.’
‘Can’t you ask Anea to cast a spell for moonlight?’
They settled at the base of the dome on the south side, looking down at the triumphal arch and the town below. Squares of golden light spilled from doorways; a dog barked; the tinkle of broken crockery drifted up to them.
‘We could be in a taverna,’ said Massimo. ‘Good company, good wine—’
‘You said you couldn’t simply slip away from the margravio to come drinking, if I recall.’
‘We need to work on our social lives.’
‘You’ll get no argument from me on that topic.’
The time dragged, and when Massimo spoke he was grateful to have something to concentrate on, if not for the subject.
‘Have you spoken to Cherubini yet?’
‘I’ve not had the chance.’ Dino grimaced as the lie fled his lips, glad the darkness hid his face.
‘Is Anea really going to let the Domina accept his resignation?’
‘Yes, she is.’ Dino sighed, remembering how distant his sister had been the previous night, only warming to him after they’d spoken for a time. ‘Have you ever heard of tinctura?’
Massimo shrugged. ‘Sounds like something you’d buy from the dottore. Are you unwell?’
‘No, just a word I heard that made me curious.’
A shout of alarm sounded from the streets below, followed by a scream. The swordsman and Orfano lurched to their feet and squinted into the darkened town.
‘Come on. We’ll not see anything from here.’
Dino led them along the edge of House Erudito. Progress was slow. They alternated between checking their footing and trying to discover the source of the disturbance. A slender tower emerged from the gloaming, dark grey against the blue-black of the sky, tapering to a fine point.
‘We can use this to reach the ground,’ said Dino.
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ve been doing this a while, you know? Mind your feet, though; the steps are wooden and I don’t trust them.’
A crowd had gathered by the time they reached the streets, many of the cittadini carrying torches, a few brandishing cleavers.
‘Care to tell me what happened?’ Dino enquired of a cittadino.
‘What is it to you?’
‘About two denari if you mind your manners, the back of my hand if you don’t.’
The man wore a grubby tunic and his slippers were all but worn through. He blinked a few times, reappraising the two bravos before him and the blades they wore.
‘Apologies, my lord. We’ve had a scare is all. More of those men in grey. They took yesterday’s bread from Luca’s bakery. Normally he’d give it to the Sisters of Santa Maria. They hand it out to the poor, you see?’
Dino nodded. ‘Which way did they go?’
A lank-haired blonde girl of around seven pointed, saying nothing.
‘A little late for you to be awake, bambina?’ said Massimo, settling on his haunches.
The girl sniffed. ‘They went that way. It happened last week too. Papa says no one at the castle cares because the people in the castle always have enough to eat.’ She sniffed again and looked at the swordsman with sleepy eyes. Dino and Massimo shared a look.
‘Come on,’ said the Orfano and began walking in the direction indicated, but not before pressing some coins into the girl’s hand.
They tracked the grey raiders across the town, questioning each person they encountered. Startled cittadini lingered at street corners, complaining. The events had already succumbed to embroidery.
‘I heard they took an entire leg off a pig.’ The woman standing before them was as round as a barrel and had trouble standing still. Her eyes drifted in and out of focus.
‘You mean a ham, and it was bread, actually.’ Dino’s frustration was growing. ‘Stale bread.’
‘Well, they went that went way, through that arch there.’ The smell of wine was overpowering. ‘It’s not the first time either.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Massimo.
The courtyard was small, smells of straw and manure declaring the wooden structure on the left a stable. A well covered with a tiled sloping roof occupied the opposite corner. Three buckets had been stacked with care. The backs of townhouses made up two sides, a blocky building with narrow windows formed the fourth. The darkness was near absolute.
‘We should come back in the morning.’ Dino couldn’t miss the weariness in Massimo’s voice.
‘Just give me a moment,’ said Dino, approaching an iron-bound door. He knocked hard and lights appeared in the narrow windows.
‘A little late for house calls, my lord,’ said Massimo.
‘Not when the safety of Landfall is at stake.’
‘I have a hard time telling when you’re mocking me of late.’
‘You’ll learn to love it.’ Dino grinned. The noise of sliding bolts announced the door would soon be open and then light spilled out into the courtyard.
The disciple of Santa Maria stood before him, the woman from the cemetery. Her shift was new, her hair clean, the skin on her hands and arms less angry. Only her mismatched eyes remained the same, cool blue and jade green.
‘You?’ Dino was open-mouthed with astonishment.
‘My lord.’ She crossed her arms and frowned. ‘Why do you come to the chapel so late?’
‘Chapel?’ Now it was Dino’s turn to frown.
‘This is the chapel of Santa Maria, and I am her disciple. What are you seeking?’
&n
bsp; ‘Raiders,’ said Massimo. ‘Grey raiders. They stole bread from a nearby bakery.’
‘Again?’
‘How many many times has this happened?’ said Dino.
‘We didn’t see them for a week or two after the first attack. Since then they’ve shifted their visits to nights.’
‘Makes a certain kind of sense,’ said the swordsman.
‘We were told they came this way,’ said Dino. ‘Can I step inside?’
‘This is a chapel!’
‘I simply need to be sure. I mean no disrespect.’
‘This is consecrated ground! We don’t take in thieves and murderers!’ Her voice had crept up, indignation making her bold.
‘It’s only consecrated if you believe in it,’ snapped Dino. ‘Now get out of my way.’
‘I will not—’ But Dino grabbed her by the arm, thrusting her out into the street, where she all but collapsed at Massimo’s feet.
‘Porca miseria, Dino. What’s got into you?’
The place was modest, two candelabra shedding light from a dozen candles. A two-handed sword suspended by iron pitons hung on the wall. No one fought with such weapons, favouring faster, lighter blades. Dino pressed a gloved finger to the edge and felt it score the fabric. There was a blue tint to the steel, polished to a mirror finish. The disciple and Massimo entered behind him.
‘What are you going to do with that?’ said Dino, jabbing an accusing finger at the weapon. ‘I doubt you could even lift it.’
‘One day our order will have templars.’ She lifted her chin and anger shone from her mismatched eyes.
‘You need a temple in order to have templars.’
‘The saint provides and keeps us,’ whispered the disciple.
Dino searched the cells of the building, six simple rooms with narrow beds, and a small shrine at the rear, the smell of incense heavy on the air. Four Sisters pulled their bedclothes up to eyes filled with worry.
‘Dino,’ hissed Massimo. ‘If you’re quite finished I’d like to abandon this charade and get some sleep.’
The Orfano was about to reply when a voice called from the courtyard, ‘What is the meaning of this? Come out at once!’
Dino rolled his eyes and Massimo broke into a weary incredulous grin.
‘Oh good,’ grunted Dino. ‘The capo, just as I thought this night couldn’t be any more pointless.’
Guido di Fontein stood in the courtyard with four men, two clutching halberds while the others held up lanterns. Dino recognised them by sight if not by name: House Fontein loyalists, hard men who hadn’t let themselves grow soft since the Verde Guerra.
‘Dino?’ blurted the capo.
‘Touch informal for my tastes, but your gifts of perception are as acute as ever.’
‘Are you here to take your vows?’ sneered the capo. ‘I think you’d suit a wimple and veil.’
‘Did you want anything in particular or are you just here to brighten my day?’ Dino crossed his arms.
‘A disturbance was reported, men forcing entry into the chapel.’
‘It’s true,’ said the disciple. ‘This man threw me out into the street and entered without permission.’
‘We were looking for the raiders,’ said Massimo.
‘I hardly care about a few beggars.’ The capo flashed an impish grin. ‘Shame about Cherubini.’
‘I imagine you’re devastated,’ said Dino. ‘I’ll be on my way now.’
But the Fontein guards made no move, obstructing the passage back to the street.
‘I’ve not forgotten your slight in the cemetery, Dino. Perhaps we can settle that issue here?’
‘With odds of five to one?’ Dino nodded to Guido’s escort. ‘That sounds about your style.’
Massimo drew his sword slowly and without flourish. ‘That’s five to two.’
The Fontein men took a step back, and a look of disgust laced with disappointment crossed Guido’s features.
‘I can’t fault your boundless arrogance, either of you,’ sneered the capo.
‘Will you carogne be quiet? Some of us are trying to sleep,’ shouted a voice from a darkened window above. Lights appeared at windows and shutters were thrown back, faces gazing down at the armed men. There’d be no fight now, not with so many witnesses.
The capo muttered, and his men backed out of the courtyard, leaving sour glances in their wake. The disciple retreated behind her door, slamming it for effect, the bolts slipping into place.
‘What a waste of time,’ growled Dino.
‘No,’ replied Massimo cheerfully. ‘It wasn’t.’
‘Care to tell me why exactly?’
‘The grey raiders. They’re not in the town.’ He pointed to the well in the corner of the courtyard. ‘They’re underneath it.’
‘How can you be sure?’ asked Dino.
‘Just a feeling. It’s why no one can find them, and how they escape with such ease. They’re underneath the town, perhaps beneath Demesne itself.’
‘Like a nest of ants,’ whispered Dino, ‘spreading their colony.’
20
Learned Denial
– 26 Luglio 325
Cherubini had drawn a small crowd for his departure. Always a kindly and jovial man, he struggled to mask the pain. Emotions chased each other, passing across his broad face in quick succession. Embarrassment for the cause of his expulsion. Shame for the vicious rumours that circulated in Demesne. Gratitude for those who had come to bid him farewell.
Dino watched from afar, heartbreak welling in his chest like blood from a knife wound. He stood on a street corner of Santa Maria, viewing the scene through the broad arch of the Erudito gatehouse. The red ivy covering so much of Demesne had withered, the drought turning leaves brown like an affliction. Just two hours after sunrise and the day threatened a sultry heat, torpid air beneath dirty clouds. The sun’s glaring copper disc gilded the pale blue of the sky.
‘If only it were me being expelled,’ the Orfano said to Achilles, perched on his shoulder. The drake sunned himself, eyes closed as if in deep contemplation.
Cherubini thanked the stable boy tightening the straps on the two ponies he’d acquired. The maestro was a man of some means, never a spendthrift, so the simple cart he’d bought was piled high with possessions he couldn’t bear to leave. Dino guessed there had been some hard choices. The maestro owned a great many books, most no doubt given to the care of Simonetti. The archivist stood amid Cherubini’s well-wishers, taller than most by a head, sun reflecting from the corrective optics he wore.
Exquisite furniture had been sold off to fund the journey ahead along with a selection of paintings. Two of the last hung in Dino’s apartment, delivered without warning by Erudito porters that very morning. The paintings would be a constant reminder of his failure.
One moment.
One key. One lock left unturned.
Many of the professori who owed their livelihoods to Cherubini were absent. A quiet majority of Demesne’s inhabitants had refused to be seen in the same room as the disgraced maestro since the scandal had gone public. All of Cherubini’s good work, all the favours he’d given, the help he’d supplied, all forgotten. Preoccupation with the scandal bordered on obsession.
The days between Cherubini’s discovery and departure had been cruel ones. Dino had watched him from afar, sometimes trailing him. Awkward crossings on staircases with other scholars. The averted gazes of servants. Mumbled greetings in corridors from other nobles. Long days enduring whispering behind his back from the guards. Half-heard unkind words from every dark corner. Cherubini had taken his meals in private, a week of cruelty for one who had been as sociable. Dino told himself he followed him in order to protect the former maestro; in truth he was simply trying and failing to approach, desperate to offer some small apology.
Camelia stood alongside Fiorenza. The cook and maid gave the rotund man supplies for his journey, sadness about their shoulders like heavy shawls. Nardo stood to one side, offering a firm salute but nothing more
. Speranza was more invested, double-checking the straps on the ponies. Dino’s eyes widened when she removed her scabbard and pressed the short sword into the maestro’s hands. Cherubini made a show of refusing the gift, then accepted. Speranza knew well what Cherubini did not: Landfall’s roads were far from safe, especially through the Foresta Vecchia. There was every chance he’d need the messenger’s blade.
The Contadinos emerged from a side door. The cittadini bowed and curtsied on instinct. Watching this act of obedience at a distance stirred embarrassment in Dino; nobility was an accident of birth, chance and station made grotesque. The feeling passed as he laid eyes on Massimo, wearing a look of profound concern on his handsome face. The nobles conversed with the former maestro briefly, and something changed hands between Margravio Contadino and Cherubini. Achilles scuttled from one shoulder to the other, restless and agitated.
‘I know how you feel,’ said Dino.
Virmyre presented himself, appearing like a thunder cloud in charcoal grey. Stephania accompanied him with a solemn cast on her features. Virmyre hugged the disgraced man, pressing his mouth close to Cherubini’s ear, words intended for the former maestro alone. Then Virmyre turned and limped away, back to Anea, no doubt, and the king’s machines.
‘Too bad she didn’t have the decency to come herself,’ said Dino to the drake. Achilles fixed the castle with a stony stare.
It would have taken Virmyre a long time to journey from the old sanatorio on account of his limp, Dino realised. He felt a deep pride for the taciturn professore. There was something incorruptible about the man, a rare quality within the walls of Demesne.
Stephania kissed Cherubini on each each cheek, a tearful smile on her face as the former maestro said something amusing. He climbed up on the cart and shook the reins, tears tracking down his round cheeks, leaving a subdued crowd of waving hands in his wake. None expected to see him again. Dino waited in the heat, forcing unwelcome images from his mind that angered, aroused and confused in equal measure. The cart proceeded across the cobbles, then beneath the arch of the House Erudito gatehouse. Dino stepped into the centre of the street, mouth downturned, feeling the sun beat down on him. The maestro drew up beside him in the cart; the din of creaking wood and hooves ceased.
