City of Flowers

by Mary Hoffman

  ‘Of course,’ said Beatrice. ‘I shall wash him myself.’

  Brother Sulien motioned to the princes to follow him into the next room, while the princess and servants fussed around the now apparently sleeping Duke. Sky followed his master, still dazed by what he had taken part in.

  ‘We are eternally grateful to you, Brother,’ said the handsomest of the princes, rather stiffly but with genuine emotion.

  ‘Thank you, your Highness,’ said Sulien, reverting to the usual courtesies. ‘May I present my assistant, Brother Celestino? Tino, this is Prince Fabrizio, the Duke’s heir, and this is Prince Carlo, his brother. Prince Gaetano you have already met.’

  Sky bowed to each in turn and they to him. ‘We are grateful to you too, for your help,’ said Prince Fabrizio.

  Prince Carlo suddenly slumped into a chair. ‘I thought he was going to die,’ he said, dropping his head in his hands. ‘It was terrible to see him.’

  ‘Who made the dish with the mushrooms, your Highness?’ asked Sulien gravely.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Carlo. ‘I assumed it was made in the kitchens.’

  ‘And who served it? Does the Duke not use tasters?’

  ‘Usually,’ said Gaetano. ‘Did he today, Carlo?’

  His brother shook his head. ‘We lunched alone, with only one servant.’

  ‘Which one?’ asked Fabrizio.

  Carlo shook his head as if trying to clear it. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I noticed.’

  Sky wondered what it must be like to have so many servants that you didn’t notice which one was on duty. Did these princes even know the names of any of the palace servants?

  ‘We must find out,’ said Gaetano. ‘And about who cooked the dish. Could it have been an accident, Brother Sulien?’

  ‘It is not impossible,’ said the friar. ‘Mushrooms are treacherous. You would need to know when and where they were gathered or whether they were bought from the market. But it is also possible that muscarine was introduced into the dish in the kitchens or by a servant, using ordinary mushrooms to disguise the taste.’

  ‘The Nucci are behind this, without doubt,’ said Prince Fabrizio, still white-faced with shock.

  ‘Your Highness knows best,’ said Sulien calmly. ‘But I should think that it would be wise to conduct some investigations among the palace household before any public accusations are made.’

  ‘Quite right.’ Fabrizio nodded. ‘It shall be done.’

  ‘What else must we do for Father?’ asked Gaetano.

  ‘I shall leave this phial,’ said Sulien. ‘Three drops only, in water, to be given night and morning. No more. I shall return tomorrow to see how the Duke progresses.’

  ‘Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines will be the richer for your work here today,’ said Prince Fabrizio, shaking the friar’s hand.

  *

  Sandro and the Eel got through the palazzo gate easily enough but a guard barred their way up to the Duke’s chamber. So they had to cool their heels in the courtyard with the bronze nude statue. Enrico was consumed with curiosity about his master’s state.

  ‘Why did they let that friar up?’ he fumed, pacing up and down. ‘And that greenhorn of a novice, your friend, when they won’t let me anywhere near him?’

  It was about half an hour before Sulien and Sky came down the grand marble staircase.

  ‘What happened?’ Enrico asked eagerly. ‘How is the Duke?’

  ‘He will live,’ said Sulien. ‘At least, this time. He was poisoned by a dish of mushrooms.’

  Sandro remembered the discussion he had overheard between Camillo Nucci and the monk from Volana. He decided to tell Enrico as soon as he could.

  ‘Can I see the Duke?’ asked Enrico.

  ‘I can’t say,’ said Sulien. ‘That is up to his guards and the family. But he is sleeping now. I don’t think he will see anyone for a while.’

  Enrico set off, determined to try his luck with the guards again, but told Sandro to wait in the courtyard. Sulien went over to the fountain to splash cold water on his face.

  Sky whispered to Sandro, ‘You see he is no poisoner. He saved the Duke’s life with something called belladonna. It stopped the spasms straightaway.’

  Sandro was looking at him oddly.

  ‘What?’ asked Sky.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Sandro. ‘Only belladonna is a poison, too. Deadly nightshade is its other name. I’m just wondering why Brother Sulien had a supply of it to hand.’

  Chapter 8

  Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity

  Sky was silent over a late Saturday breakfast, wondering what on earth he should tell Nicholas about what had just happened in Giglia. How would he feel if someone brought him news of his mother from another world and he had to hear that she had been poisoned?

  ‘How’s the fencing going?’ asked Rosalind.

  ‘Fine,’ said Sky, snapping out of his reverie. ‘It was really good, actually. I mean, I wasn’t very good, but Nicholas thinks I can be if I train hard.’

  ‘Is he serious about teaching you?’ she asked. ‘If you’re really keen, shouldn’t we get you some paid lessons?’

  ‘It’s very expensive, Mum, and he’s very good,’ said Sky. ‘We’re lucky that he’s willing to do it for free.’

  Sky got up and cleared the breakfast away, automatically loading the dishwasher and wiping the table. Then he checked Remedy’s food and water bowl.

  ‘What will you have for lunch?’ he asked, opening the fridge. ‘I’m going to meet Nicholas for another lesson – shall I make you a sandwich to eat later?’

  ‘No, darling. I’m all right today. I can make something myself when I’m hungry.’

  Sky looked at his mother. It was true; she did seem all right. He sat down at the table again, taking one of her hands in his.

  ‘Are you really all right? You do seem a lot better.’

  His mother nodded. ‘I don’t know why, but I feel as if I am coming to the end of a long tunnel. And it has been a long one, hasn’t it? I don’t know what I would have done without you.’

  Sky escaped to meet Nicholas at the local gym, not wanting to stay and listen to her gratitude. If his life had stayed normal, he would have been feeling light-hearted now. His mother was getting better, the days were warming up and it would be the Easter holidays in a few weeks. But as a Stravagante, he found everything getting complicated. He had seen the most powerful man in Talia nearly die from poisoning and he was no longer sure who could be trusted.

  It was a matter of honour to Camillo Nucci, the eldest of the young generation of his family, to loathe every di Chimici, and it was his dearest wish to avenge the murder of his uncle Donato, which had happened before he was born. His father, Matteo, was the richest Nucci so far and had commissioned the most splendid palace on the far side of the river, mainly to annoy Duke Niccolò. It was bigger than either the Palazzo di Chimici in the Via Larga or the grand Palazzo Ducale in the city’s main square.

  The Nucci were as old a family as the di Chimici and nearly as rich. But the two clans had been at war for as long as anyone could remember. It had most likely begun two hundred years previously when the first Alfonso di Chimici had been friends with the first Donato Nucci. The two young men had both courted the same young woman, the beautiful Semiramide. She was as haughty as she was lovely and the two suitors were less highly born than her.

  It was the time when the two families were accumulating their first fortunes, the Nucci from wool and the di Chimici from distilling perfume. Each young man brought a gift for Semiramide. Donato’s was a woollen shawl, warm and soft but not particularly elegant. Alfonso’s was a crystal phial of lily cologne.

  Semiramide was vain, it was summer, the shawl was set aside, the perfume applied to her wrists, and Alfonso’s suit was favoured. For generations afterwards, when a Nucci met a di Chimici in the street, one would hold his nose and the other bleat like a sheep. The di Chimici’s star rose rapidly; the money they made selling their perfumes and lotions bro
ught them such riches that they were soon acting as bankers to half the royal houses of Europa and charging high interest on their loans.

  Alfonso died in his sixties and his eldest son, Fabrizio, declared himself Duke of Giglia within eighteen months. The Nucci’s fortune grew too and their acres of sheep farms ensured their continuing prosperity. But they could never catch up with the di Chimici, who gave themselves airs and wore fine clothes and acquired titles the way other men bought boots.

  The Nucci could have rallied their supporters to form some kind of opposition to the di Chimici in Giglia. But they chose instead to brood over their wrongs and school their young people in hatred of the perfumiers and bankers.

  Still, they were almost social equals, being richer than any other Giglian family, and it seemed as if the old enmities would be forgotten when young Donato was offered the hand of Eleanora di Chimici. But the original feud sprang up again a hundred times more fiercely after the insult to Eleanora and Donato’s murder.

  So it was with undisguised pleasure that Camillo received the news of the Duke’s poisoning. His informant was a man who had removed his di Chimici servant’s livery and run straight from the Via Larga to the Nucci’s old palazzo.

  ‘You stayed to see him taken ill?’ pressed Camillo.

  ‘Yes,’ said the man. ‘I served him with the mushrooms myself, the young prince having none, as you said would be the case. Then, when the main course was cleared and they were eating fruit, the Duke started to clutch his stomach. I waited until the vomiting began, then thought I should make myself scarce.’

  ‘They will investigate the cook first, I don’t doubt,’ said Camillo. ‘I should not like to be in his shoes.’ He handed over a purse full of silver. ‘Well done. And now I suggest you should take a little holiday – perhaps in the mountains – for a few weeks.’

  *

  Camillo would not have been so happy if he had seen Duke Niccolò a few hours later, sitting up in bed in a snowy nightshirt, his eyes glittering and his mind and body unimpaired.

  His sons were around him and his daughter waited on his every need, but there was to be no deathbed scene – not this time.

  ‘What did the cook say?’ he asked Fabrizio.

  ‘He swore that the mushrooms came from his usual supplier and were wholesome when he sent up the dish,’ said the prince.

  ‘And did you torture him to make sure his answer was honest?’ asked the Duke, as he might have said, ‘Are you sure it’s not raining?’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ said Fabrizio. ‘Not personally, of course, and not much. It was clear he was telling the truth. He has been in the family’s service a long time.’

  ‘No one is incorruptible,’ said the Duke. ‘No one. But I expect you are right. What about the footman?’

  ‘No one has seen him since the meal was served,’ said Prince Carlo. ‘It is most likely that the poison was introduced by him. We have men out searching the city.’

  ‘And what are they looking for?’ said the Duke. ‘A man. That’s all we could remember about him, isn’t it?’

  Carlo was silent.

  ‘Let us waste no more time on the servant,’ said the Duke. ‘It is the master we want. I know I have many enemies, but this is not the work of the Stravaganti. Their methods are more subtle. It is to the house of Nucci that we must look for the origin of this attempt on my life.’ He looked ready to leap out of bed and bring the culprit to book himself.

  ‘Rest now, Father,’ said Beatrice. ‘You are still weak and must sleep in order to recover your strength.’

  ‘Don’t we need some proof before accusing the Nucci?’ asked Prince Gaetano. ‘It is only a guess that they were behind it.’

  ‘Find proof, then,’ snapped the Duke. ‘But in the meantime, if I still have three sons loyal to their father, I shall expect this crime to be avenged.’

  Sky waited till he and Nicholas were showering after their fencing lesson before telling him about the Duke. It was the only time he could be sure Georgia wouldn’t be around. He didn’t think she would approve of his passing on such disturbing news.

  ‘Poisoned?’ said Nicholas, standing still under the spray. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sky. ‘He’s going to be fine. Brother Sulien gave him an antidote.’

  ‘But who did it?’

  Sky shrugged. ‘No one knows.’

  ‘It was the Nucci, I bet,’ said Nicholas, as they towelled themselves in the changing room. ‘I can’t bear it. I must go there.’

  ‘To Giglia?’ said Sky, surprised.

  Nicholas sighed. ‘But I can’t, can I? My talisman comes from Remora and would take me to the City of Stars. I could ride to Giglia from there but it would take me at least half a day and I’d have to get back to Remora in the same day to stravagate back here.’ He tugged his wet hair in frustration. ‘And it’s not that easy, going back. But I must. It drives me mad to think of my family in danger. What if someone tried to kill Gaetano?’

  Carlo didn’t consult his brothers. He took a dagger from the chest in his room and hid it down the side of his suede boot. Running down the steps of the palazzo, he bumped into the man he knew Duke Niccolò used as a spy.

  ‘Come with me,’ Carlo hissed at him. ‘Take me to where the Nucci will be.’

  Enrico knew vendetta when he saw it. He made no attempt to calm or dissuade the prince. If a di Chimici wanted to kill a Nucci that was family business. If Enrico could help they would be grateful, and whether the attempt failed or succeeded, he would have a hold over another di Chimici family member.

  The two men left the palazzo, trailed by an inconspicuous street boy. The Eel recognised his young apprentice and smiled to himself; it wouldn’t hurt at all to have another witness.

  The Nucci would be at their palazzo near Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines, Enrico thought, though that was a bad place to carry out revenge. He recommended waiting nearby till one came out. It was nearly dusk, and once the torches were lit, all of Giglia’s fashionable families would dress in their best and join in the ‘passeggiata’ round the city’s main squares.

  Carlo was a complete amateur; he wanted to stab the first Nucci who appeared, in full sight of the people already gathering in the square with the two elongated pyramids, outside the friary church. But Enrico managed to restrain him until the little band of Nucci brothers – Camillo and the younger Filippo and Davide – had come out and were a good distance from the palazzo.

  The three young men walked down an alley, taking a short cut to the Piazza Ducale. The two older Nucci walked on ahead while Davide, only eighteen years old and proud to be able to stroll out with his big brothers, stopped to caress a stray dog.

  ‘Now!’ hissed Enrico and Carlo felled the boy with a single thrust. Davide Nucci had no time to cry out. He felt the blade withdrawn from between his ribs and his life blood following it. Before his eyes closed, he saw the young prince’s gloating smile and heard his feet padding away over the cobbles.

  Camillo noticed that his younger brother had fallen back. ‘Hurry up, Davide,’ he called. ‘The young ladies will be waiting!’ He turned and saw a crumpled body at the far end of the alley.

  Camillo and Filippo raced back to where their little brother lay dying. They did their best to staunch the blood but could see straightaway that the wound was fatal.

  ‘Who?’ demanded Camillo, cradling Davide in his arms. ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Di Chimici,’ was the last thing Davide ever said. A small dog licked his blood from the cobbles while his brothers howled their grief to the darkening sky.

  ‘What have you been saying to Nicholas?’ whispered Georgia. ‘He’s in a very funny mood.’

  As quickly as he could, Sky filled her in on the poisoning.

  ‘You shouldn’t have told him,’ said Georgia.

  ‘How could I just not tell him when he asked me what happened in Giglia last night?’ asked Sky. ‘It was upsetting for me too, you know, seeing a man nearly die of poison.’


  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t your father,’ said Georgia, and immediately regretted it when she saw Sky’s expression. She knew he had a single mum, knew vaguely that there was some mystery about his father and that he never talked about him; all the girls in their year knew that. She had put her foot in it. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t know what it was like to be fatherless. Even though her stepdad, Ralph, had become like a real father to her, she understood about families and the private sufferings they could conceal.

  She put her hand tentatively on Sky’s arm. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  And that was when Alice saw them. It hit her all at once that Sky was not interested in her at all; he just wanted to get to know her in order to get close to her best friend. She turned away, her cheeks scarlet.

  ‘Damn!’ said Georgia, catching sight of Alice. ‘I’m getting everything wrong today. I’m just so worried about Nicholas. He says he wants to go back to Talia. I think he’s regretting coming here.’

  ‘You feel responsible for him?’ asked Sky.

  ‘Yes. If it hadn’t been for me – and Luciano – he wouldn’t be here. We tried to persuade him that he would miss his family too much but I can’t tell you how determined he was. I’ve never met anyone with a will as strong as Nick’s. And he was just a kid then.’

  ‘Is that all it is?’ Sky was surprised at his own boldness. A few days ago Georgia had seemed remote and intimidating; now he was asking her if she fancied a boy two years younger than her.

  Georgia didn’t flare up. ‘No. It isn’t all. I think Nick and I will always be together, because he’s the only one who knows what it was like for me in Talia. You can’t have an experience like that and just live the rest of your life normally as if nothing had happened. I know the real him and he knows the real me; it’s as simple as that.’