I find another knight who gives me directions, and I walk uphill to the area of the city where houses are much larger. There’s more news about Ramberti here. ‘He’s claimed a palace near the stations of the cross,’ a knight tells me.
A girl with ashes on her nose directs me down a narrow alleyway where two pilgrims in white robes walk briskly away from a small chapel. The height of one confirms that he is Monsignor Ramberti. They’re accompanied by demons I can’t see clearly in the smoke. One is as big as Tutivillus.
The pilgrims walk uphill and turn left at the end of the street. I follow them. All the streets pour out here, into a large plaza. Temple Knoll. Al Aqsa Mosque comes into sight at the knoll’s far end. Its walls are stern and grey, its dome a solid, imposing black. I pause and stay out of sight as Ramberti steps into one of the small chapels lining this road. I wait and watch. Peter Bartholomew walks past, chattering excitedly about having seen St Andrew himself.
St Andrew? I’ve only seen Ramberti.
Across the road, another chapel billows smoke. Nearby, a line of Jews has gathered at a long wall. I have heard of it, too. Not just from the book, but also from my history lessons back in San Gimignano. That wall is part of the Jewish Second Temple, standing now for hundreds of years, since the temple itself was destroyed. That’s what it’s like here in Jerusalem. The great religions woven together through time like the warp and weft of tapestry.
I stop. Ramberti has left the chapel, changed from his white robe into a black one. The smaller person with him is wrapped in a black cloak. They are alone. This is my chance. I will have my revenge.
I don my enchanted helm carefully—I know that, like other magical implements, it will stop working when Thanatos begins his charm—and move closer to him.
‘God preserve us from the Saracen infidel,’ Ramberti says. ‘We’ll have their leaders dead and this place consecrated again before we go.’
Standing in a nearby doorway and holding my breath, I slide my sword from its sheath. Ramberti is an excellent warrior. But I’ll have the advantage of surprise.
The small black-cloaked figure walks up to Ramberti like a servant to her master. Ramberti turns and says the last thing I expected him to say.
‘Suzan.’
Suzan?
It can’t be. But while I’m frozen, the hood is shaken aside. I see her hair. Beautiful dark waves that are all the more lovely because she’s unaware of their effect. It’s Suzan.
Suzan, outside the mosque, with Dragonus Ramberti. And that demon really is Tutivillus.
Ramberti has the book.
Which Suzan holds open, as she reads to him.
She came to me when I was injured and asked me to open it for her. I remember that now. I don’t recognise the passage she’s sharing. It’s certainly nothing she read to me. Ramberti stares at the mosque and, hearing her words, nods in satisfaction.
Betrayal sears through me like the hottest of blades. Ramberti turns and takes the book from her, holding it open without looking down at it as they turn to walk back down the street.
Oh, Suzan.
How can this be?
You were the one who told me not to kill Ramberti after
Dorylaeum, to wait for the right time to seek my revenge.
You—who have a relationship with Ramberti that I never
guessed. I remember Narlo’s vile accusations about you—perhaps there was some truth to them, after all.
How can you have deceived me like this?
For a sick moment, I wonder if our entire relationship was staged. Everything from finding her in Goreme with nothing but her clothes and her santur in an old basket. I remember her standing there, the way she caught my eye and began speaking to me like it was the most natural thing in the world, like we already knew each other and had been, until then, waiting for our chance to meet again. I’ve wondered if that ease, that familiarity, was because we were meant to meet, if she was part of a plan God had for me. Now I still see a possible plan, but not one of God’s.
Is it too much of a coincidence that she knows the book’s language? What power does Ramberti wield over her? He is a priest. Suzan grew up in a convent obeying priests. She was taught that the voice of a priest was the voice of God. Perhaps she felt she had no choice but to obey him.
Oh, Suzan. Your mother is a siren. You have her treachery. The first time I saw you was in a dream where you spilled ink on my book. Dreams are always warnings. I would have seen through you earlier if you hadn’t bewitched me.
CHAPTER 26
Together
TEMPLE KNOLL
Luca
I follow Ramberti and Suzan through dark and narrow streets and turn into the Via Dolorosa. Up and down stone steps, past small chapels marking the stages of Jesus’ final torturous walk, I follow them to one of Jerusalem’s grand sandstone palaces. High turrets overlook a small square crowded with pilgrims. Covered in blood from their murderous rampage, they have come to pray at the sites of Jesus’ suffering.
At Ramberti’s appearance, a guard standing to attention moves to one side of solid timber doors.
‘Where are the other guards?’ Ramberti complains. ‘Looting for themselves no doubt. Everyone is so greedy.’
Ramberti and Suzan enter together and the door closes behind them. I walk out into the open. This is his palace. She is his guest. Betrayal stabs a second thrust into my chest.
‘Conte.’ Behind me, the startling voice, although masculine, is warm and musical.
I recognise it by now. ‘Thanatos.’
‘Of course. I’m here to make sure things continue going according to plan. I can’t have my falcon too far from the book. Very soon, I’ll need the two of you together.’ Thanatos’s copper eyes are brighter than usual, like a flame is lit behind them. ‘You’ve seen the priest with your weird nun. That’s quite a relationship. Watching them together—all lust—you’ll see why demons want human bodies. Not that I’m complaining about my existence so far. Death is delicious. Your death will be delicious—and Suzan’s!’ He pauses to suck in air between his teeth. ‘Suzan’s death will be so sweet I can hardly sleep for thinking of it.’
Furious, unable to control myself, I grab for him. Thanatos fades, reappearing just beyond my reach. He opens his copper eyes wider still, and laughs. ‘Are you surprised to hear me say I’ll enjoy her death? Of course I want to cause you pain, Conte. I’m a demon. Pain is what we do.’
Other voices. Thanatos fades, completely this time. I walk past Ramberti’s guard and bang on the door.
The guard pushes me aside, raising his spear.
‘I’m the Conte de Falconi,’ I say. ‘I want to see Monsignor Ramberti.’
The guard lets me pass. ‘I believe he’s been expecting you,’ he says.
He grabs me suddenly, pinning my arms behind my back. I hear Thanatos laughing as I realise I’m trapped.
Suzan
Ten thousand bodies. That is what Thanatos and the demons want. Ramberti has promised he will deliver ten thousand lives. Ten thousand human souls who are destined to die this day…unless I can do something to save them.
Ramberti places the book on the table next to me and taps the page without looking at it. ‘Tell me what Thanatos knows.’
The book tells me the demons’ rite must be performed at sundown, the day after Jerusalem is captured. It also tells me that we—I read Luca’s name, and my own—will be involved in the death of the evil Monsignor who attempts to doublecross Thanatos.
I gasp.
‘What is it?’
I stare at pictures of demons dripping off Ramberti’s rings and gold cross. A few red eyes wink insolently at me. Ramberti wants to doublecross Thanatos.
‘The language changed,’ I lie, quickly. ‘I don’t understand it any more.’
Ramberti scowls. ‘Go back to what you read yesterday.’
I find that page, only to see my own name.
I don’t want to read my story to him. I pause over the words ins
tead of translating, and tell Ramberti some truths it can do no harm for him to know.
‘Thanatos is a demon prince,’ I say. ‘A member of the demon race based on pride.’
Ramberti listens intently. ‘Demon race?’ he asks.
‘I think it says their races are related to the seven deadly sins,’ I offer.
‘How can I defeat them?’
That’s information I don’t want Ramberti to have. ‘I’m not sure the book will tell me how to do that.’
‘Don’t be foolish! It’s what the book is for!’
The letters waver. I blink.
And the young Conte came to believe that the siren princess betrayed him, I read.
Horror settles over me. Luca must somehow know I’m with Ramberti. He must have seen us together—and misunderstood. He doesn’t know Ramberti has Serafina. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.
Through my dismay, I’m filled with hope. Luca’s book is definitely on our side, telling me what I most need to know: Luca must be recovering! Could he be near us now?
The fine vellum pages shiver, as in a breeze.
‘What does it say?’ Ramberti demands. Too close to me. ‘The truth, Suzan.’
‘I can read some of this,’ I tell him. ‘It’s more formal than the rest. I don’t recognise as much.’
A rustling sounds behind me. Ramberti turns.
‘Let me go!’
Luca’s voice! Sudden and loud, from downstairs.
The book moves like an earthquake is rattling the table beneath it. I stare at the tiled walls, at the carved pillars. How substantial are they?
A guard appears, dragging Luca. Luca’s hands are tied.
‘We got him!’
‘Luca!’ I cry.
Luca’s face is red. He kicks the guard. But the guard is much stronger. With his arms tied, Luca can’t reach his sword.
‘Well, well. Master Luca…no, the Conte de Falconi.’ Ramberti’s tone is rich with sarcasm. ‘How unexpected.’
Luca’s glance catches mine, his eyes angry and cold. ‘I didn’t expect to see the two of you.’
‘Luca!’ I step away from the book.
Ramberti looks from one of us to the other. Luca thrashes against the guard.
‘Luca, be still,’ I beg him. ‘Don’t make them hurt you.’
Luca roars and, finally pulling an arm free, slams the book shut. The guard quickly grabs him again.
Ramberti taps his lip and shakes his head. ‘Young de Falconi. You never act reasonably. Open the book for me. Or I’ll hurt Suzan.’
Luca laughs mockingly. The glance he shoots me is betrayed and heartbroken. My own heart breaks a bit too, even while I want to scream at the injustice of it.
‘You won’t hurt her,’ Luca says to Ramberti. ‘She’s in league with you!’
Ramberti claps slowly, delighted by this amusing turn of events. ‘Really? Luca, you can’t be serious.’
‘Luca!’ I cry. I can’t bear it any longer. I need him to believe in me. ‘He has Serafina!’
Luca turns to me. ‘I saw you in the chapel!’
Ramberti laughs. ‘Luca, open the book. Don’t be ludicrous. Why would I need the help of a stupid ugly nun? She’s reading for me, that’s all. I know there’s a curse for people who look inside the book. I don’t want to see the pages. Now, don’t make me hurt her.’
So that’s why Ramberti still doesn’t see demons other than Thanatos. He’s averted his gaze from the open book.
‘She can’t read if she’s injured…’ Luca begins. He looks at me again. I hope I’m not imagining it. Some pain and betrayal seems gone from his gaze. Now he looks confused.
‘Don’t make me hurt her, or Serafina.’ Ramberti’s eyes narrow.
Still firmly held in the arms of his captor, Luca quietens. I watch the realisation that I’ve been forced to help Ramberti wash over him, and give him new hope. I try to smile at him, and wipe away tears.
Luca holds my eye and nods, almost imperceptibly. I hold on to the edge of the table for support against the rush of emotions passing through me. I love you, Luca.
He must hear. Everybody must. It’s the loudest thought I’ve ever had.
Luca
The pain in Suzan’s eyes withers my own. She hasn’t willingly betrayed me. Ramberti forced her to help him. To save Serafina.
But as I’m pulled to Ramberti, I’m still in turmoil. Serafina is in danger. And how can I get Suzan out of this mess?
My arms are tied behind me. Ramberti’s guard pulls my head back. Ramberti approaches, a small dagger clutched in his hand. ‘Of course, now I have the best way to force Suzan to do my will.’
He holds the blade to my throat. Suzan moans helplessly.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to die. Particularly not like this. Weakened and humiliated, with Suzan watching.
My whole life to this point: the years with my parents, the confusion when Father married Anna, my love for Suzan…all that, leading here.
I can’t be defeated. Not here. Not like this.
‘You know what I want,’ Ramberti says.
‘No.’ My voice is hoarse. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Shhh, boy,’ Ramberti snarls. ‘I’ll kill you now.’
‘No, don’t.’
I open my eyes. Suzan is speaking.
‘I’ll give you what you want. But you can’t kill Luca. Only the book’s owner can open the book. If Luca dies, that will be one of his siblings, back in Tuscany.’
Ramberti’s blade leaves my throat.
‘No more games, Suzan, or the Conte de Falconi’—he pronounces my title like a curse—‘suffers. There are ways to hurt him and keep him alive. Guard, free one of his hands. Let him open the book.’
I close my eyes for a moment, then leap away from the guard. My hand is free. I have my sword.
The guard is strong but stupid. A diverting parry to confuse him, then two quick thrusts, and he is strong, stupid and dead. Killing a man still doesn’t feel like the joint of meat my fencing master described—but this time, it feels satisfying. I’m nearly free. I nearly have Suzan back, and my book.
I turn quickly, pointing the bloodied blade at Ramberti.
‘Guards!’ Ramberti yells. ‘Guards!’
He backs away, to a smaller door that must usually be the servants’ entrance.
‘Guards!’ He disappears through the door and slams it shut. I try the handle. It’s locked. In the hall beyond, footsteps echo, running away from us.
I turn back to Suzan. ‘Is Serafina here?’
‘I think she’s downstairs.’ She grabs my hand, and the book. ‘I’ll show you.’
We run through the room’s main door and down two flights of stairs into the palace’s basement. I can see no one here. Suzan looks confused. Worse, Ramberti’s voice reaches us.
‘Guards! Where have you been? Those two thieves are downstairs. Bring them to me!’
We just make it up to the ground level as two guards appear. Ramberti, red-faced, isn’t far behind. There’s no more time to look for Serafina. We have to get out of here.
Outside, the steep and narrow Via Dolorosa is still blocked by a crowd of bloodied pilgrims. Suzan and I crouch behind an abandoned cart and watch as Ramberti’s guards exit the palace and look around, confused.
‘Serafina will be all right,’ Suzan reassures me. ‘He’ll look after her now. She’s the one lure he has.’
I can’t stop worrying about my old friend, but I have to admit Suzan is right. Serafina is safe as long as Ramberti believes he can use her to influence us. ‘Tell me what you’ve worked out.’
Suzan looks around and points. ‘Let’s go over there.’
I follow her into a small chapel, hoping for solitude and a chance to talk.
A group of pilgrims has gathered inside. My breath catches in my throat.
‘What is it?’
‘It reminds me of the Collegiata—the church—at home. Only so empty!’
‘Empty?’
‘I mean…there are only people.’
Standing in a semi-circle beneath the light-filled cupola, the pilgrims’ upturned faces glow. They have dirt and blood on their skin and still wear their road-beaten rags. But they hold hands, and sing. Lyrics spiral around them.
As though each word has wings, every note soars. Suzan observes from one side, looking awestruck at the music’s beauty.
The singers split into harmonies and their voices swell. I recognise words from one of the psalms.
Our feet stand within your gates, Jerusalem.
Jerusalem—a city bound firmly together.
The purity of song coming from their bruised bodies is ecstatic and otherworldly, as though they’re trying to reach the Heavens.
Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: May those who love you be secure.
May there be peace within your walls and security within your citadels.
For the sake of my family and friends, I will say, ‘Peace be within you.’
I see new hope in Suzan’s uplifted face. She sways like a string vibrating to the same key as their ethereal song.
Afterwards, the singers disperse. Their rapture was a fleeting thing. Perhaps it was a message for Suzan and me. I love her and she might love me. Anything is possible in a world where there is music such as this. Perhaps angels live among us, too. For everything horrifying and brutal, there is something beautiful, pure and true.
Suzan dabs her eyes with her tunic sleeve. ‘What language was that?’
It’s so unlike her not to recognise it. ‘But it’s Latin, of course,’ I tell her.
Suzan is thoughtful. ‘Maybe the words don’t matter. Maybe they’re the only part we can easily understand…’ She drifts off, then suddenly speaks: ‘Music isn’t just about words. It’s also rhythm. This is about the time. Thanatos’s parchment mentions forty-five years. That’s how long they’ve been planning this. They know they have to get the timing right. He has saved people in Al Aqsa to kill them when the timing is right. We can only stop him if we perform our charm at the same time as Thanatos.’
The Book of Whispers Page 30
