The Boy Who Wept Blood

by Den Patrick

  Duchess Fontein, the capo and various hangers-on joined together in polite applause. Anea began signing and the Domina translated again.

  ‘The instance of ignorance is with you on this occasion.’

  Duchess Prospero stiffened, smile evaporating in a moment.

  ‘Had you stepped outside the castle you would be well aware that Santa Maria has a library. There is also a school, set up by my brother, Lucien Marino. The people are more than capable of reading a list of names and placing an x by those they think suitable to govern.’

  Throaty laughter and more commentary from the gallery. Dino wondered if his sister had gone too far. Duchess Prospero had not withdrawn, a tight smile on her lips, conceding the point but not the argument.

  ‘There is one more position in Landfall that is hereditary. I wonder if you are so keen to divide your title as Orfano from your role as ruler.’

  No applause this time. The chamber was pinioned by anticipation. A cloud passed over the sun and for once there was a moment of shade. Anea stood, immaculate but frail, tired yet imperious. Her clever fingers began to sign, the words given voice by the Domina.

  ‘Let any who wish to place themselves in competition with me do so. I will gladly use the opportunity to prove my quality. No one has striven more completely than I to serve the population of Landfall.’

  Anea paused to look over the nobles, many of whom withered under her gaze.

  ‘The vote for the leadership of Landfall will be the first vote taken by the people. We will give them a voice; we will hear them speak.’ Her scouring gaze came to rest on Duchess Prospero, who fanned herself and feigned boredom.

  ‘Let the first day of ottobre be the date of the elections.’

  Anea waved to the gallery and swept from the room through the door at the back of the chamber. The Domina followed.

  ‘I suppose you think you’re dreadfully clever,’ said the capo. Dino had failed to notice Guido sidle up to him through the crowd, intent on his sister’s departure.

  ‘Dreadfully clever? Not really. I just have to be more clever than you.’

  ‘Surely a clever man would have a few more allies.’

  ‘I don’t have to fuck my allies to ensure their loyalty.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ replied the capo, flicking a glance toward Massimo.

  ‘Are you unloading in Duchess Fontein now?’ countered Dino.

  Guido’s mouth twisted. ‘You knew about this, knew that my becoming Duke Fontein would be pointless.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Dino, wishing he’d consulted the Domina upon receipt of the letter.

  ‘You filthy Orfano,’ whispered the capo. ‘Your time is over. You were an experiment. Nothing more.’

  ‘My lords.’ It was Virmyre who’d laid a hand on Guido’s forearm. The capo was now grasping the hilt of his blade, lips peeled back from his teeth. ‘I think perhaps this conversation is concluded.’ Virmyre looked up to the gallery. Sure enough, three score staff and cittadini looked down at the unfolding hostility. ‘It would be poor form indeed to spill blood in the Ravenscourt, especially with so rapt an audience.’

  The capo stalked away, the few remaining nobles clearing a path for him as he passed through the double doors.

  ‘I see you’re as popular as ever,’ rumbled Virmyre.

  ‘It’s my natural charisma combined with my comic timing.’ Dino shrugged. ‘I’m unbeatable really.’

  ‘If only that were true.’ Virmyre shook his head.

  ‘Will you be back soon? From this damned science of yours? We need you, and her.’ Dino gestured to the door Anea had retired through. ‘Landfall needs her. I need her.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Virmyre, looking troubled, ‘but there’s so much to learn, Dino. And there have been problems.’

  ‘Problems?’

  ‘It’s fine. You must understand, the king kept so much from us. There are hints at advances we can only begin to imagine, and not just in medicine.’

  ‘It didn’t do the king much good.’

  ‘The king was insane.’

  ‘Have you seen Anea?’ Dino leaned in close to the professore. ‘She’s hardly the picture of health these days.’

  ‘True enough. I’ll see to it that she rests.’

  ‘You keep a close watch on her, Virmyre. I only have one sister. I’d prefer it if she didn’t see out her days in the sanatorio for the wrong reasons.’

  ‘You could look in on her yourself.’

  ‘With everything that’s going on in Demesne?’

  ‘I’m sure you could find time in your busy schedule.’

  ‘It didn’t go so well the last time I dropped in, did it? She could barely spare five minutes.’

  ‘That was unfortunate. We—’

  ‘It’ll be more unfortunate if there’s no Ravenscourt to come back to. Tell her we need her back on the throne, where she belongs.’

  Virmyre nodded, making his way across the vast chamber of the Ravenscourt.

  ‘So, a republic then?’ Massimo raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Looks that way,’ replied Dino with a scowl. ‘One duke dies and the whole island falls apart.’

  32

  Stephania’s Plight

  – 15 Agosto 325

  ‘Your fascination with this establishment constantly puzzles me.’ Dino looked around the piazza, then inspected the contents of the wooden mug. The taverna was busy but the proprietor had cleared a table. Guests such as the Contadino swordsman and his Orfano friend could not be turned away. The near-white sun blazed down, unimpeded by cloud, the air dry and still.

  ‘It never hurts to be among the cittadini,’ said Massimo. ‘The nobili might be more honest if they stepped beyond the castle walls occasionally.’

  ‘On that we can agree. I’m still undecided about the taverna though.’

  Massimo smiled. For a second Dino could forget the whole tawdry business of Demesne. He looked across the piazza to the statue of the saint, where a crowd of the very poorest of the cittadini had gathered. Stephania and the disciple of Santa Maria were giving out portions of bread and wizened vegetables. Four guards stood nearby showing the barest interest. The disciple caught Dino’s gaze with her mismatched eyes.

  ‘Rumour is that Guido was hoping to petition Lady Diaspora for the right to rule House Fontein.’

  ‘Can you imagine it?’ Dino rolled his eyes. ‘Porca miseria.’

  ‘It seems the duchess was content to pass the title on to him.’

  ‘But now Anea’s reduced the influence of the major houses.’

  Massimo nodded. ‘No dukedom for Guido, but he’s gained support among the minor houses.’

  ‘How many houses?’ said Dino.

  Massimo shrugged. ‘Hard to know.’

  ‘He’ll use that support to get himself voted in as commander of the guard.’

  ‘The Fonteins were always shits,’ said Massimo in a rare moment of bitterness.

  ‘That’s one bloodline I’m happy to see the last of,’ said Dino, sounding anything but cheerful.

  ‘You really think it’s the end of the Fonteins?’ Massimo snorted. ‘You can’t tell me the old duke didn’t father some bastards. They say he was handy with more than just a blade.’

  ‘He was feeding his length to Lady Allattamento for years.’ The Orfano paused. ‘Stands to reason his infidelity didn’t stop there.’

  Dino imagined a handful of illegitimate sons waiting to strike back against their father’s killer. He struggled to breathe a moment before his thoughts strayed to the portrait of the woman in the duke’s chamber. ‘Curious that people always think of bastards as male,’ he whispered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just thinking aloud.’ Dino drank and was surprised. ‘The wine’s undergone a significant improvement since the last time we were here.’

  ‘I brought it with me.’ Massimo took a sip and smiled again. He was clean shaven as ever. Dino regarded Massimo’s strong calloused fingers holding the wooden mug, his other h
and clutching the girth of the bottle. His mind wandered. ‘The whole of Demesne is laying bets on whether you and the capo draw steel before this voting takes place.’

  ‘How are my odds?’ asked Dino.

  ‘I didn’t ask.’ Massimo refilled his mug. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if all of Landfall was betting on the outcome. We should get in some more practice, and soon.’

  Dino tensed, mind lingering often on the previous day’s training session.

  ‘Ever find yourself imagining what it would be like to rule Landfall?’ said the swordsman in a quiet voice, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

  ‘Bloody.’ Dino flashed a vicious smile. ‘All the more reason not to do it. I wouldn’t wish that task on anyone.’

  Massimo’s attention was drawn by the crowd of paupers. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

  ‘Is that …?’

  ‘Lady Stephania Prospero.’

  ‘Another convert to the cult of Santa Maria,’ said Massimo.

  ‘Or she’s making a very cunning play to become mayor,’ said Dino after a pause. ‘The cult has been positioning itself as the champion of the downtrodden. What better way to attract votes from the cittadini?’

  ‘Stephania’s not the only one who’s aligned herself with the Marians,’ said Massimo.

  ‘I know. I made some enquiries.’ Dino shrugged when Massimo looked surprised. ‘I’m a spy – it’s what I do.’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Houses Elemosina and Di Toro have been making contributions to the poor.’

  ‘That’s no great surprise,’ replied Massimo. ‘I imagine Medea asked in such a way they couldn’t refuse.’

  Elemosina and Di Toro were both minor houses that had enjoyed a long relationship with the Contadinos, having rooms in that very house.

  ‘Would it surprise you that House Sapiente is also paying into the cult’s fund. Namely for the construction of the church itself.’

  ‘I though Maestro Fidelio was taking pains to keep House Erudito politically neutral?’

  ‘But religion isn’t politics, is it?’ replied Dino, taking a sip of wine. ‘And Fidelio doesn’t know what his minor houses do behind his back. House Sapiente in particular were strong supporters of Cherubini.’

  They looked across the piazza. Stephania continued to give out food with a smile and a kind word for all.

  ‘She’d make a good mayor,’ said Dino.

  ‘Margravio Contadino would be happy with that. Shame she isn’t younger and Luc a bit older. That would be a political marriage to be reckoned with.’

  ‘I wish,’ said Dino, knocking back more of the wine.

  ‘Seems you’re wishing for a great many things lately.’

  ‘And if wishes were wolves …’

  ‘We’d all be lying around with our throats …’

  ‘Ripped out.’ They laughed. It was a common saying in Landfall since the Verde Guerra, but not popular at court.

  ‘Where did the guards go?’ said Dino rising to his feet. He shielded his eyes with the flat of his palm.

  Massimo knocked back some more of the wine. ‘I’m sure they’re close by,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘Not close enough. Come on. I’ll bring the wine.’

  They were halfway across the piazza when the raiders appeared. If the guards were close at hand they were dead already. The maudlin crowd scattered, an unkindness of ravens taking to wing. Someone fell, a loaf of dark bread tumbling from their grasp.

  ‘Tempo. Velocita. Misura,’ whispered Dino.

  Massimo drew his blade and surged ahead. Dino followed, drawing his own steel, surrendering to the surge of adrenaline. Three men in grey saw them, detaching themselves from the group, perhaps a score in total. One bore a halberd liberated from a Fontein guard. He levelled the pole-arm at Dino and ran at him, only to fall on his arse as the wine bottle bounced from his forehead.

  ‘You didn’t have to throw it,’ complained Massimo as he parried an incoming blow. He slammed an elbow into his opponent’s face.

  ‘Sorry,’ grunted Dino.

  ‘Such a waste,’ grumbled the swordsman. Massimo’s following slash opened the man up, leaving him on his knees, armfuls of purple entrails spilling out. He stared at his undoing with shocked fascination.

  The raiders were too busy filling sacks to care about the noblewoman in their midst until she drew the knife. The metal glittered in the daylight.

  ‘Stephania, no!’ Dino shouted over the din. The Orfano lashed out with his blade, stepping past his next opponent, not bothering to finish him. A raider set aside his pillaging and advanced on Stephania, face unreadable beneath the hood. Dino pressed further into the chaos of bodies, Stephania still several feet away. He would not reach her in time.

  The first halberd strike went high. She threw herself back, stumbling over the table. The halberd slammed down, splitting the tabletop as she rolled away from the opposite side, now strewn with splinters. Dino leaped onto the table and stamped a foot on the shaft, trapping the weapon. The man didn’t have the sense to release the pole-arm; Dino split his head open for his stupidity. A shower of gore erupted across the pristine white of the disciple of Santa Maria, who threw up her arms to shield her face, shrieking in horror. Dino hopped down from the table and offered his hand to Stephania, speechless with shock. He pulled her upright.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, eyes dulled with confusion.

  The Orfano lunged past her, thrusting his steel into the back of a raider engaged with Massimo. The man jolted upright with a scream, twisting. Dino clawed a free hand around the man’s throat, thrusting the blade deeper. The tip emerged from the man’s chest and the scream became a wheeze. Massimo parried an incoming club with his knife and unleashed a savage riposte with his sword, taking the man’s arm off at the elbow.

  The raiders fled, each clutching a sack loaded with food.

  ‘Back to Demesne,’ grunted Dino, grabbing Stephania by the elbow. ‘Make sure she gets to safety,’ he shouted at Massimo, indicating the gore-spattered disciple. The swordsman nodded and they headed back through streets filled with panic.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Stephania over and over.

  The quickest way into Demesne was through the Contadino courtyard, but Dino had no wish to go there, instead leading them beneath the triumphal arch where House Contadino stood alongside House Prospero at a flat run. The double doors that led to the Central Keep lay ahead, imposing and impregnable. The pommel of his weapon beat a staccato summons. He turned to check they hadn’t been followed. Massimo trailed them by several feet, escorting the disciple. His tabard had been laid open at the shoulder, the white shirt beneath now dark with blood.

  ‘Figlio di puttana! Open the door!’

  Raiders darted past the triumphal arch. Smoke now hazed the blue sky. More shouts and screaming could be heard, the clash of steel.

  Wood groaned and hinges complained. An old face appeared in the gap, whiskery and gap-toothed.

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘Good man,’ breathed Dino. The four of them hustled into the cool darkness of the Central Keep.

  They didn’t stop until they found themselves in Stephania’s apartment. Massimo and the disciple had vanished along another corridor. Dino gasped down air with his back to the door, still clutching his blade, sweat starting to cool. He unbuttoned his jacket and locked the door. Stephania collapsed onto a divan in her sitting room, staring glassy-eyed.

  ‘I need a drink, and so do you.’ He crossed the room to where a cabinet stood in an alcove. A caraffa of red wine waited with a cluster of glasses. He made to pour but his hands were shaking.

  Stephania approached, soft hands easing the caraffa from his grasp. She’d let her hair down, dark brown tresses tumbling down the sides of her face. Dino surrendered the wine to her, watching her place it back in the cabinet.

  ‘I wanted a drink …’ But the words dried up as she pressed herself against him, fingers tracing the lines of his face, so warm, trembling wi
th frailty. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him, held him.

  ‘You came for me.’ The words were no more than a breath barely formed.

  ‘The guards, they abandoned their post.’ Dino shrugged. ‘I …’

  She tilted her head, pressing closer, arms slipping around his waist. Dino opened his mouth to speak and felt her tongue dart across his lips. The Orfano closed his eyes, wanting to surrender to the rise and swell of sensation, but the face in the darkness of his mind was not Stephania’s but Massimo’s.

  He jolted away, face flushed, unable to breathe. Her eyes filled with confusion, shifted to accusation.

  ‘I don’t … Why won’t you …?’ The words died on her lips.

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’ He backed off a step, unable to meet her eye. ‘I should go. They’ll need me.’

  ‘Dino, I’m sorry.’ She held her hands out to him. ‘I just …’

  He made to leave, scabbard slapping against an armchair as he rushed to the door. Awkward seconds passed as he fumbled at the key in the lock, stumbling into the corridor, glad to be free of the wounded gaze of Lady Prospero.

  33

  Contadino’s Request

  – 16 Agosto 325

  Dino spent the morning after the attack training some of Demesne’s guards. There was no curse known to man he did not unleash upon them. The air in the practice yard was arid, the smells of sweat and leather drifting on the meagre breeze and the Orfano’s impatience rose with the day’s heat, threatening to become a searing anger. A handful of novices lingered at the edge of the practice yard, giving the superiore sullen looks. They’d hoped to see capable soldiers demonstrating the finer points of combat. Not a soul present wasn’t aggrieved in some way.

  ‘My lord,’ said Ruggeri. He’d approached Dino as the guards took a moment to refresh themselves at the end of the session.

  ‘How did we become so lax?’ Dino scowled. ‘After everything we went through in the Verde Guerra? They don’t deserve to wear the scarlet and black.’

  ‘These are not the men who abandoned Stephania Prospero yesterday.’ Ruggeri flashed a look over his shoulder to make sure they were not overheard. ‘You shouldn’t punish them for the failure of others.’