‘What about Hermes and Illawara? What will happen to them?’ he said. But Bianca sighed and shrugged.
Illawara tip-toed away from the drawing-room door, left ajar, from where she listened to the pair speak and slipped with silence back into her room. She would wait, as she had done since her outburst until Bianca called for her. As she got herself washed and dressed Illawara wished with all her heart for her father to come for his case, Hermes' safe return, and for them all to leave Italy - and the times - and go back home.
Grizelda emerged into the hallway, from the kitchen where she had spied on Illawara, satisfied she was not seen and saw when she crept back into her room. The maid walked up the hallway, past the main living room, and affected a movement of a woman busy about her work unaware of the prowling of others, and tapped on the drawing-room door.
‘Come in’ came Bianca’s voice.
‘The living room is swept and ready for visitors, Bianca’ came Grizelda’s dry words. The sitting pair turned up their faces to her from their bread and tea, and gave her an expectant look - as if waiting to hear a confession - but she ignored the anticipation she sensed in her mistress and Dondo.
‘Thank you; I'll call Illawara’ said, Bianca, before the maid returned to the kitchen.
The mistress of the house called Illawara's name, and after some minutes she entered the drawing room, dressed but lacking her usual glow of which Dondo had grown so fond. ‘Would you like some tea?’ said Bianca, with strain evident at the corners of her mouth.
‘Yes, thank you’ said Illawara, as Dondo pulled out a chair for her next to himself with a look of compassion in his eyes, which only added to the guilt she felt over her actions. Illawara had apologised to Dondo from the depths of her heart, the following day, for her behaviour. She tried to avoid looking at the remnants of the bruises she had inflicted on his face, as she sat down. Bianca tried to sound upbeat.
‘As you know, in the coming days my son shall be released and return home.’
‘Hermes too’ added Illawara with a correcting tone.
‘Yes, him too’ said Bianca, flashing a look at Dondo. ‘Today, as you know, after your rest, we shall be greeting more suitors, and with their handsome gifts to you shall make quite a dowry…’ The mistress’ trailed off.
‘Do you mean to be rid of me?’ said Illawara, looking Bianca full in the face. The mature woman avoided her eyes for a moment before composing herself.
‘RID is not quite the right word. I’ve enjoyed your stay a great deal, you’ve been like a daughter to me since you walked through that door.’ Illawara puckered her lips, unsure of what to make of Bianca’s statement. ‘But, as we have all seen’ she said, giving another tentative look in Dondo’s direction, ‘I think life under this roof has become unhappy for you here.’
Illawara could not deny the observation and would have left at a stroke if she had Hermes with her, and could be sure of her father’s whereabouts. Illawara fiddled with her hands as Bianca continued. ‘A young woman, such as yourself, needs a husband or a protector to guide her…’ Illawara gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head and looked at the ceiling as Bianca spoke.
‘I don’t need to be married to exist as a person’ she said, doing well to keep her voice even, ‘and you’ve seemed to manage just fine’ she added, wafting her hand at Bianca.
‘Yes, I manage, but I have an income, pitiful as it is, and a loyal son...’ Dondo seemed to hold his breath to see if Bianca would acknowledge him as an important man in her life. But Bianca glanced at Dondo instead, and let her look fill the place where his name should have been. ‘With a husband, I would have struggled much less, and as I see you as a daughter, I don’t want the same struggle for you that I’ve had to endure.’
Illawara scrutinised the mistress but could sense on more than one level Bianca told her the truth, even if her manner toward her had changed of late. She remembered the silence from Bianca when Dondo asked about her and Hermes' future. She thought it best to hold her tongue and let Bianca talk herself out.
‘Before Antonio and Hermes return, I think it would be wise for you to make a choice… more suitors, I’m sure, will come today and I’m told by many that even the Gondoliers of Venice know your name.' She sat with a blank expression as she waited for Bianca to arrive at her point. ‘If you will not choose a suitor to marry… then Dondo and I think you should accept Orsini if he returns to you - better to be a mistress than a spinster or a nun - doubtless he will have plenty to support you.’
Illawara frowned at Bianca's remarks, but accepted the logic of the times - she could not fight a nation and more. But everything seemed so final to her as if she would be turned out into the street with Hermes the moment Antonio would arrive back home. Her heart beat faster. She had wanted to go on her own terms and leave as she had arrived - without explanation. But it was the first time she had felt, since arriving in Italy, that her time was running out - that time was against her.
‘Cardinals can’t marry’ she said, with a rueful shake of her head.
‘So, you confirm him to be a Cardinal then?’ said Bianca, her eyes wide and glass-like again, knowing full well who Orsini was, but yet to hear the admission fall from her enigmatic guest’s mouth. Illawara nodded. ‘There is scarce a young woman in the land that would refuse a Cardinal, my dear.' Bianca smoother her brow. 'Why, by the way he bowed and put his mother’s ring on your finger I’d say he's married you already - in all but name - it seems he'd not forsake you for the world’ She sighed, not without envy.
Illawara turned her face away from the mistress for a moment, unsure of where to look. She had articulated and given voice to a feeling that had tried to find expression within Illawara the moment that the Cardinal had placed his mother’s signet ring upon her finger. She felt chosen. She felt admired. And she had felt that she had become the only thing that mattered in Orsini’s heart, and that feeling intoxicated and frightened her.
A thought flashed through her mind of her life as a Cardinal’s mistress - a life of private splendour - but she suppressed the idea and returned her mind to thoughts of escape when Hermes returned. She tried to think of life again back home. She swallowed and sat up straight.
‘It takes more than a Cardinal to turn my head’ said Illawara, with haughty defiance. Bianca looked on and smirked with the wisdom of age and experience.
‘I thought the same once’ she said, ‘and look where it got me.’
The statement stained Illawara and Dondo's thoughts as they hung in the air: as if every reluctant choice that Bianca had made up until that point in her life had condensed into a single sentence - words that fell, pathetic, upon the table for all to see in all their shame and tragedy.
Grizelda entered and broke the stony silence of the room.
‘A man stands outside’ she said.
‘Who is it?’ The maid shrugged, ‘can it be a new suitor?’
‘He wears a mask.’
Bianca then caught her breath with excitement,
‘Giovanni returns so soon?’ Dondo shrank at the name, but the maid shook her head.
‘Too tall.’
‘Oh?’ said Bianca, her face clouding. Then Illawara’s breath quickened, and she hoped within herself that it would be the Professor. The well-worn routine that the house used to get itself ready for guests sprang into action. The details passed in a blur around Illawara as the others rushed around to make ready: no one noticed her take up the Professor's carry case, that she had kept covered in a corner, and put it next to her chair in the living room before she sat down.
The neighbours were active too. One of their sentinels had long spied the cloaked and masked Professor as he paced about outside, unable to stand still in the cold. The lookout had rushed upstairs to tell the others, knowing that a ripple of excitement would run among the thirsty snoopers - it had been a while since they had seen anyone new. The Sentinel would make sure the neighbours gathered themselves, at the usual places, young through to old,
like sparrows in a bush that had just spied fresh bread.
‘Someone new arrives’ said the Sentinel, almost breathless, after hasty door tapping on a well-placed neighbour. The rapid tapping of this, particular, neighbour’s door acted as a rallying call in the wild for the others.
The words, accompanied by the door knocks, spread up and down the flank of doorways that lay opposite Bianca’s like electricity: in that unique telepathic way that neighbourly gossips have - that great talent to know a stranger has come amongst them via the tremble of the air alone.
In moments faces poked out of doorways and windows, before the Sentinel added in stage whispers: ‘and this one is tall and impatient - not like the others. He will darken the doorway’ added the Sentinel first to the hushed surprise, and then feverish muttering at the news. ‘Save a chair for me’ said the Sentinel, to the neighbour that had opened her door, ‘I don’t want to miss anything this time.' The others nodded back - knowing premium seating would go fast once word had spread further. The Sentinel rushed away to keep vigil. The informed neighbours then engaged in a frenzy of door hopping, some going upstairs others moving down, and pledging snacks and nibbles that would satisfy the lack the other neighbour had. Faces then crowded the windows overlooking Bianca’s door and waited. A neighbour’s baby began to wake and then cry, a high-pitched protest to pierce the silence, but the woman then clamped her squirming baby to her breast - not wanting to interrupt the moment. Hushed, they all waited.
Bianca’s door flew open, and Dondo stepped out before he fussed at himself as he tucked in his uniform with haste. He then left the door ajar. His shoes echoed with a clip-clop and shuffled down the steps. The neighbours exchanged glances, and a sense of foreboding passed among the voyeurs - no one spoke. The Sentinel then rushed up the stairs soon after Dondo had descended, a boy of twelve, and was hastily admitted into a house. Silence fell again before Dondo’s voice rose up the stairwell: it sounded uneasy. He led the way, and then the tall man came into view. A murmur passed among all neighbours that could see him. ‘Sweet Mary’ one said, ‘I’ve never seen a man so tall and broad. “He looks like a Viking”, so my father would tell me.’ Those that were within earshot agreed.
‘I don’t like the mask’ whispered another, at the sullen expression the Professor had strapped to his face, as a gust of chill wind lifted his cloak.
‘They sell cheap wigs like that near the Rialto’ one sharp-eyed neighbour observed, 'the colour is off, and the style of it doesn't match his age - I think he moves like a much younger man.' Dondo stood back to welcome his guest inside, cautious, as he ducked to enter the doorway. The neighbours saw a glimpse of fright in Grizelda’s face as she offered to take the man’s cloak before Dondo, hesitant, closed the front door. With instinct, the neighbours all leaned forward, as if their ears could prize the door open again. They watched and waited.
‘I’ll keep my cloak, thank you’ said the Professor to Grizelda, ‘I’ve no intention to stay long.’ The maid looked relieved as she dipped into a respectful curtsy.
‘Can we get you something to drink?’ said Dondo, gazing upward ‘we have some warm spiced wine to offer you. Grizelda can heat some up for you, can’t you Grizelda?’ Added Dondo, flashing the maid a look who nodded back with haste. The Professor, with politeness, refused.
‘It’s too early for wine, for me’ he said, ‘but thank you.’
‘I think I could use some’ said Dondo, his own emotions dominated by the feeling of tension that emanated from his guest. He signalled to Grizelda, who wasted no time in going to the kitchen for refuge - glad to be away from the Professor.
‘Is she in there?’ he said gesturing to the closed living room door. Dondo nodded, not bothering to try and impress his masked guest with niceties about the decor: all thoughts of such seemed redundant to him.
‘How would you like me to introduce you?’ The Professor took a deep breath; the idea had not occurred to him. He had no idea of what he would say to Illawara, or if maintaining a disguise would even be worth it. He needed his case, and to get it with as much ease a possible. An ache gnawed at his body. The Professor squirmed at the sensation before he replied: ‘tell her I’m a merchant from Venice.' Dondo seemed surprised, but he nodded and did not argue before he swung open the door to the living room.
Illawara froze as soon as he entered. Bianca became just as rigid, picking up Illawara’s feeling as soon as the tall man ducked into the room and stood like a phantom of the Venetian Carnival.
‘A merchant from Venice’ said Dondo, unsure of his own words.
Illawara saw through the Professor's disguise in an instant. She knew in her heart that he had to come, and there he stood. Emotion rose to her face, but her pose remained imperious as her eyes welled. The Professor looked at Illawara as if comprehending her as a woman for the first time, and felt overwhelmed with shame. No one spoke for some moments. Bianca looked at her and observed the projection of moral power that seemed to emanate from the young woman. The new guest may have been the tallest in the room, but Illawara had the high ground.
‘So, you’ve come for your case then?’ she said, ‘I knew you would.’
Rapid looks exchanged between Dondo and Bianca, who only then noticed the black case by her side - the object they had forgotten she arrived with and still had.
‘Yes’ said the Professor.
‘Take off that mask and wig’ she commanded, the tone of her voice was irresistible. He obeyed.
The Professor removed his wig, Illawara gasped, as his silver hair tumbled about his ears, but many strands of it fell to the floor too. He hesitated before he removed his mask, but Illawara fixed him with a look as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Her brow twitched with an empathy she could not control when she beheld the yellowing and sweaty complexion of the Professor.
Bianca still admired the face, even if the man seemed far from his best.
‘You look very unwell’ said Illawara, trying to keep her voice steady, seeing her father as a man much diminished.
‘It’s true’ he confessed, unable to maintain any pretence in his heart. He felt so vulnerable, standing there, he may as well have been naked in front of the child he raised for years before he abandoned her.
The Professor's head dipped from time to time: so hard he found it to look across to her. Illawara reached down to her side to pick up the carry case and placed it in her lap. The action increased her moral power, even as the tears made trails across her face.
‘I want you to tell me some things before I give you this’ she said, gripping the case till her knuckles whitened. The Professor swallowed hard, dreading what she may ask. ‘Why did you leave me?’ she said almost choking, fighting hard with herself to keep her emotions under control. Then the realisation dawned on Dondo and Bianca. The two were motionless, only their eyes moved to each other, confirming in their silence that they then both understood who the stranger was.
‘I didn’t mean things to be like this; Illy’ said the Professor, in English, ‘things got out of hand. I didn’t expect to be away so long.’
‘Then why didn’t you come back to explain? You could have taken me with you’ said Illawara, replying in her mother tongue, her voice rising despite her efforts to control it.
‘It was too dangerous to come back - too difficult to return.’
‘It was because Iona left you, wasn’t it? She left you, and you couldn’t take it, so you left me too - left us both behind!’
Illawara’s words sliced at the Professor’s conscience like a coroner performing an autopsy: she cut right to the core of him with the brutal honesty of a child.
‘It wasn’t like that’ he protested, but without his mask, all could see that Illawara had knifed him with the truth. Grizelda listened near the half-opened door, just as gripped as Dondo and Bianca within: none understood English, but they did not have to - the tone and gestures were enough. ‘I made a promise’ he said the, his lip starting to tremble, revealing a more profound
truth. Illawara looked confused.
‘To who? Iona?’ He shook his head.
‘No. Someone very dear to me. Iona didn’t want any of this’ he added gesturing to the air. Bianca and Dondo looked on transfixed: sensing the conversation they witnessed went far beyond their understanding.
‘I don’t blame her’ said Illawara, ‘I want to get out of Italy. Daddy, please, let’s leave this place - when Hermes is released let’s go home’ she implored. But the Professor’s face looked grim.
'Is he not with you?'
'He's in prison with Antonio, someone reported them to the Night Watch. But they'll be out soon' she gestured to her gifts, 'we bribed them.'
'I see' he said before expressing his surprise at the jailing of the pair, though none at the cause. He had no issues with Antonio's preferences; Antonio had confided in the Professor when he had politely refused his advances - he had no desire for Antonio's "extra services". Winston shook his head. ‘I think you should go home, Illawara, take Hermes back with you. But I can’t leave yet: I’ve still so much to do. I shouldn’t have involved you in all this. I was foolish and selfish. I made a mistake.’ Her face took on a look of panic.
‘No. I won’t leave you here. I can’t let you leave again’ she cried with defiance. ‘There's so much I've learned on my own, so much I could share with you' she implored, 'listen to me, you’re ill. I think you need my help. Please, Dad, let me help you. Whatever it is we can work it out together.' But the Professor shook his head.
‘Illy this has all gone too far. It would be better if you and Hermes went home.’
‘I’m not a child anymore’ spat Illawara, ‘what do you think I had to do to get here?’ Her eyes blazed. ‘Do you think that was easy for me to do? I made that sacrifice for you!’ She yelled in Italian. Bianca, Dondo and Grizelda all began to wonder at just what that could sacrifice could have been.
Beyond the Raging Flames (The Hermeporta Book 2) Page 29
