by Mary Hoffman
‘Be careful what you say, Luciano,’ warned Rodolfo. ‘The city is full of spies.’
*
Francesca’s wedding dress was finished. A frothy confection of white lace over a satin bodice and full underskirt, in which she would look every inch a princess. She was trying it on in Arianna’s grandmother’s parlour and the two young women and the old one were all admiring the effect.
‘Gaetano is a lucky man,’ said Arianna, smiling. ‘No one will have eyes for any bride but you.’
‘And what shall you wear, Arianna?’ asked Paola Bellini, who had heard about the Duke’s present.
‘Oh, Nonna, I don’t know,’ said Arianna. ‘If only I could just please myself and forget about diplomacy.’
‘Then you would wear one of your old cotton frocks and go barefoot, I expect,’ said Paola.
‘Your uncle has sent me a dress, Francesca,’ explained Arianna. She hadn’t mentioned it to her friend before. ‘And it is much too grand and expensive for me to accept without granting him some favour in return. And the favour he has in mind is for me to sign his treaty with Bellezza – of that I am sure.’
‘But you won’t, will you?’ said Francesca.
‘No, I can’t. It is what my mother spent her life resisting and I owe it to her and the city to continue the fight,’ said Arianna. ‘And yet, if I don’t wear the dress, the Duke will be offended and that is undesirable too.’
‘I see,’ said Francesca. ‘You have a dilemma.’
‘It’s too hard for me to decide,’ said Arianna. ‘I don’t want to wear it but I can’t do just what I want any more. I’m going to ask my father and Dottore Crinamorte what they think.’ And my mother too, she thought to herself.
*
It was not long after Sky arrived back in Giglia that Luciano turned up at the friary. They were both short of sleep and went out to sit in the sunshine on the wall of the Great Cloister. Luciano looked at his own single shadow and sighed.
‘I wish sometimes I had never been given the notebook,’ he said bitterly.
‘Notebook?’ asked Sky.
‘It was my talisman – the thing that brought me to Talia,’ said Luciano.
‘But, if it hadn’t, wouldn’t that mean . . .?’ Sky hesitated.
‘That I would be dead?’ said Luciano. ‘Yes. But I think that may be going to happen anyway. I can’t see how I can get out of this situation alive. If the Duke tries to marry Arianna, I will kill him – I would say “or die in the attempt” like some corny hero, except that in my case it will probably be “and” not “or”, and I’m no hero.’
‘You care about her that much?’ asked Sky. ‘So much you would die for her?’
Luciano didn’t answer straightaway. ‘Can you imagine what it was like to give up my family and my life in your world?’ he asked finally. ‘To leave everything I had ever known and be flung back over four centuries to live in the past in this world?’
‘Not really,’ said Sky. He had seen how comfortably the old Lucien seemed to fit into life in Talia and only now thought about what his feelings must have been when he had to leave his previous life.
‘Oh, I know it gave me a second chance, that I had a life instead of what was going to happen to the old me,’ said Luciano. ‘And I’m not ungrateful, believe me. But I’ve had to become a different person, with a different future to look forward to, and it’s only the people here who have made that possible. Arianna most of all. If I thought she was going to become the Duke’s wife, I really think I would go mad.’
‘But you don’t think she’ll accept him, do you?’ asked Sky. He couldn’t imagine a girl of seventeen preferring a white-haired man in his fifties to the good-looking Luciano, but he didn’t know Arianna and he guessed a Duchessa couldn’t always do what she preferred.
‘I think it’s unlikely,’ said Luciano. ‘But not impossible.’ He couldn’t forget how Gaetano’s suit had not been turned down out of hand when it was first made. ‘But if she does refuse him, then all our lives will be even more in danger, here in the di Chimici stronghold, with everyone armed and ready for a fight.’
A figure stepped out into the sunlit cloister to join them. It was Gaetano. ‘What’s this about fighting?’ he asked.
*
The Eel was feeling pleased with himself. Word had flown around the palace that Duke Niccolò was going to marry the beautiful young Duchessa of Bellezza and Enrico lost no time in taking the credit for putting the idea into his master’s head. He was pleased about the Duke’s plans for a new title too; now he would be able to boast of being right-hand man to the Grand Duke. And once Bellezza had entered the fold, it would not take long for the remaining Talian city-states to follow suit. Enrico was quite sure that the Grand Duke would be king of a united Talia one day. If not this Grand Duke, then the next.
He made a mental note to cultivate Prince Fabrizio. The only fly in Enrico’s ointment was that his spy network wasn’t operating as efficiently as he would like. He wanted hard information about what the Nucci were planning. After all, they had made an attempt on a di Chimici life even before their Davide was killed, so they must be plotting something now. The only question was whether they would wait for the weddings when all the di Chimici would be in the city, or show their hand before.
This was the kind of work Enrico relished, collecting information, following suspects and perhaps having the chance to slide a knife between someone’s ribs and be well rewarded for it. He had made himself indispensable to the Duke and looked forward to a rich future. True, he seemed to be losing his influence over his youngest spy, who had become sulky and elusive, but he had lots of others.
There was only one thing missing in the Eel’s life and that was the comfort and companionship of a woman. Ever since his fiancée, Giuliana, had so mysteriously disappeared in Bellezza, Enrico had sworn off women. It had been inexplicable; they had been due to marry in a matter of days, Giuliana had ordered her dress and was apparently very excited about the wedding. Then, without a word or a note, she had vanished.
The only explanation he could think of was that she had met someone else and run off with him, someone who was such a good prospect that she had been prepared to leave not just Enrico, but all her family, without any farewell. So complete had been her deception that her father had come round and threatened Enrico for having taken his daughter away.
But that was some time ago and Enrico had been influenced by the Duke’s decision to marry again. If a grieving widower could do it, so could a jilted spy, and Enrico was now open to the idea of another romance.
*
‘You don’t mean it,’ said Gaetano. ‘You’re just upset. It may come to nothing.’
‘I don’t say what I don’t mean,’ said Luciano. ‘I’m serious. I will kill him if he tries to marry her. I’m sorry he’s your father, but I will do it.’
The three boys were still in the cloister. Sky was impressed by how close Luciano seemed to the di Chimici prince. He had heard something of their history together in Remora from Georgia and he knew that what had happened with Falco had forged a strong link between them.
‘What do you think, Sky?’ asked Luciano.
‘What do I know?’ he said. ‘I’ve never known my father. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Gaetano to hear you threaten his.’
‘I’m more afraid for you than the Duke,’ said Gaetano. ‘If you cross him, he can have you eliminated in an eye-blink. He wouldn’t even let you get near him.’
‘Perhaps Luciano should have fencing lessons too,’ said Sky. He was joking, trying to lighten the atmosphere. But both the others turned to him eagerly.
‘Could you teach me, Gaetano?’ asked Luciano.
‘Of course,’ said the prince. ‘Have you tried before?’
‘A little, in Bellezza,’ said Luciano. ‘I’ve done a bit of rapier and dagger with Guido Parola.’
‘Who’s that?’ asked Sky.
Luciano smiled for the first time since the Duke’s
dinner.
‘He’s a reformed assassin I happen to know,’ he answered, remembering the first time he had met the red-haired Bellezzan, when he was trying to kill the previous Duchessa. ‘He works for Rodolfo’s friend, Silvia.’
‘Well, he sounds like a good teacher,’ said Gaetano. ‘But we should start straightaway. I’ll go and get a couple of rapiers and meet you back here.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ asked Luciano. ‘Remember that I shall want to use everything you teach me on the Duke.’
Gaetano smiled crookedly. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he said. ‘But I want you to be able to defend yourself.’
Sky didn’t stay late in Giglia; he was too tired. So he caught up on several hours’ sleep and woke only when the telephone rang in the morning. He could hear Rosalind answering it and then she knocked on his door.
‘That’s all settled, then,’ she said, coming into his room. ‘Cinderella shall go to the ball!’
‘What are you on about, Mum?’ asked Sky, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. But he was pleased to see her looking so happy.
‘We’re going to Devon tomorrow – for Easter,’ said Rosalind. ‘To visit Nana. And you can see your friends while we’re there. Alice’s house is less than twenty miles away. What do you think?’
Chapter 12
The Scent of Pines
The Nucci palace across the river was nearly finished. In the last few weeks, extra workmen had been hired to make sure that the second storey was complete, and others were busy laying out the extraordinary gardens, with their fountains, grottoes and radiating walkways. The city was about to see a display of di Chimici wealth at their family weddings and Matteo Nucci was determined not to be outshone.
Word had spread that the new palace was going to be bigger and better than anything owned by Duke Niccolò and people had taken to hanging about watching the workmen. The moving-in day for the Nucci had been announced for the day after the di Chimici weddings and already some of their furniture was being moved into the ground floor, while workmen finished tiling the roof.
Among the watchers was Enrico, who was not looking forward to telling the Duke what he had seen. Sandro had brought his master to see how rapidly the new palace was nearing completion.
‘It’s a deliberate snub to his Grace,’ said Enrico. ‘A way of saying that the Nucci are better than the di Chimici and at least as rich. The Duke won’t like it.’
‘It’s a better way of saying it than killing people, though, isn’t it?’ muttered Sandro. ‘Building a bigger and better house.’ He bent down to stroke Fratello’s ears.
‘Now just you listen to me, young Sparrow,’ said the Eel. ‘Don’t think that because they’re building a house the Nucci have given up ideas of killing. They’ll get their revenge for Davide, don’t you worry.’
*
The Ducal carriage was drawn up on the mainland opposite Bellezza, waiting for the Duchessa. Some feet behind it was another less grand carriage with a red-haired footman standing by the door. Inside it sat an elegant middle-aged woman in a travelling cloak, with her personal maidservant.
‘Another journey, Susanna,’ she said. ‘And this the most dangerous yet.’
‘Yes, milady,’ said Susanna. ‘The Duke in his home city and not distracted by a dying son will be much more vigilant than he was in Remora.’
‘Then I must be even more vigilant,’ said Silvia. ‘I want to know what he’s up to, particularly as far as Bellezza is concerned.’
‘Here comes the Duchessa,’ said Susanna, who had been alerted by Guido Parola.
The red and silver barcone was beaching on the shore. The mandoliers who had rowed it now started carrying trunks over the shingle to the baggage carriages. And a white-haired man handed a slender figure on to a walkway of planks up to the road. Then came a small company of bodyguards. They were followed by the Duchessa’s maid, Barbara, who was organising the luggage and scolding a burly young mandolier carrying a long silver box.
William Dethridge and Arianna stopped by the Padavian carriage and Guido Parola opened the door.
‘Good morning, my dear,’ said Silvia. ‘And to you, Doctor. I trust you left Leonora well?’
‘Excellently welle, good ladye,’ said Dethridge. ‘Bot a littil troubled by my voyage with the yonge Dutchesse here. Shee likes it not whenne I am from home.’
‘You are fortunate in your marriage,’ said Silvia a little pensively.
‘Let’s hope the di Chimici will be equally blessed,’ said Arianna. ‘I am sure that at least Gaetano and Francesca will be happy together.’
‘If the Duke’s ambition lets them,’ said Silvia.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Giglia, anyway,’ said Arianna. ‘Gaetano spoke so highly of it.’
‘Wel thenne,’ said Dethridge. ‘Lette us bee awaye. There is a longe road ahead.’
*
The Duke received Enrico’s report in silence but he sent for his architect straight afterwards.
‘What progress on the palace?’ he asked as soon as the man was shown in.
‘Excellent, your Grace,’ said Gabassi. ‘The rooms are ready and I was going to say that we could start moving the new furniture in.’
‘Good, good,’ said Niccolò. ‘Then let us begin. I shall move in with Prince Fabrizio and my daughter before the weddings and we shall host the celebrations in the piazza outside.’
When Gabassi had gone, the Duke went to a window that overlooked the main courtyard. ‘Avenues and grottoes, indeed,’ he muttered. ‘Nucci is a farmer at heart and wants to bring the countryside into the city. I shall show him how a real nobleman uses his wealth.’
He rang the bell to call Enrico back. The Eel had not gone far.
‘I want you to help Prince Fabrizio to move his apartments to the Palazzo Ducale,’ said the Duke. ‘And Princess Beatrice. I should like us to be in our new residence by the end of the week.’
‘Certainly, your Grace,’ said Enrico, rubbing his hands. This was his opportunity to make himself useful to the Duke’s heir. And to the beautiful Principessa. She hadn’t shown herself to be very warm to him in the past but perhaps that could be made to change.
*
Gaetano met Luciano at his lodgings, carrying two rapiers. They had tried a few passes the day before in Sulien’s cloister but now the real training began. They walked to a nearby piazza, where there was plenty of space to practise. The piazza took its name from the elegant Church of the Annunciation which made up one side of the square with its porticoed loggia. The square itself was amply big enough for swordfighting, if you stuck to the area between the two elaborate fountains, and a small knot of people had soon gathered to watch the two young men.
‘Take no notice of them,’ said Gaetano, driving Luciano hard back towards one of the fountains. ‘You’ll always have something to distract you if you are attacked. It won’t be nicely organised, following rules of courtesy.’
‘It’s not them I’m bothered about,’ gasped Luciano, who hadn’t realised swordfighting was such a demanding activity. ‘It’s you. You’re too good. Can we have a breather?’
Gaetano put up his weapon. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Five minutes.’
They sat on the edge of the fountain, dipping their handkerchiefs in the water, and the small crowd dispersed.
‘It’s true I’m good,’ said Gaetano, not boastfully. ‘But my father’s good too. And so are all the armed men you might encounter. Nobles in Talia are brought up to fight from a very young age – think of Falco – and assassins do it as if they’ve learned it as soon as they were weaned off their mother’s milk.’
‘Then there’s not much hope for me, is there?’ said Luciano, dripping the cool water on to his face. ‘Whatever happens here is going to come about in the next few weeks. Even if we practise every day, I won’t be able to catch up.’
‘All we’re trying to do,’ Gaetano explained patiently, ‘is teach you how to defend yourself. If you are at
tacked, your blood will run hot and your courage, together with the moves you have learned, may save your life.’
‘Adrenaline,’ murmured Luciano.
‘But that doesn’t mean you should lose your head,’ added Gaetano warningly. ‘If you lose control, you will certainly be killed.’
‘But what about if I want to attack someone?’
‘My father?’ said Gaetano. ‘I don’t recommend it. Not with a sword, anyway.’
‘Well, what else can I do? Poison? He has tasters, as I’ve seen, and besides, it seems cowardly compared with fighting face to face.’
‘You can’t really expect me to advise you how to kill my own father,’ said Gaetano. ‘Whatever he has done or is thinking of doing. Wouldn’t it be better to talk to Arianna and find out what she thinks about the marriage?’
‘The Duke hasn’t even asked her yet,’ said Luciano. ‘But she’ll be here in a day or two and I expect Rodolfo will tell her what your father is planning as soon as she gets here. Still, it’s not easy. She didn’t say anything to me all the time when you were courting her. I think a di Chimici proposal counts as politics with Arianna, not as an affair of the heart.’
‘I think it probably counts as politics with my father too,’ said Gaetano grimly. ‘I doubt if he would be
able to tell Arianna from one of his own nieces if she were not presented to him as the Duchessa of Bellezza.’
A scruffy boy with an even scruffier dog on a string was watching the two young nobles as they talked. He had noticed them fencing as he walked through the square on his way from his lodgings to the Piazza della Cattedrale. Then he had recognised one as the ugly di Chimici prince and his curiosity had been piqued.
Sandro was familiar with the Piazza of the Annunciation. He was fascinated not by the church but by the huge orphanage on one of the square’s other sides. The Ospedale della Misericordia had the same porticoes as the church, but in one of them was the famous Ruota degli Innocenti, the Wheel of the Innocents, and that was what drew Sandro.
A wide, open window-space held a horizontal metal wheel, operated by a handle at the side. Desperate mothers with too many mouths to feed or no husband would come, usually at night, and place their babies on the wheel and crank the handle till their pathetic bundles vanished inside the Ospedale. The baby’s cries would eventually rouse the nun on night duty and the infant would be accepted into the orphanage.
