The Prince's Doom

by David Blixt

  Swallowing, Mastino was silent.

  “How is cousin Verde? Rizzardo certainly looked upset. Will she comfort him? Console him? Did he truly not know what was in the bottles she gave him?”

  In a stoic tone, Mastino said, “I don't know what you mean.”

  “Oh dear. I thought we were going to talk. If that's not the case, I'll take this bottle to Castelbarco and try feeding it to some of those pigs that followed us home and watch what happens.” Picking up the bottle and the sword, Cesco turned to go.

  Mastino said, “Sit down.” Cesco arched an eyebrow. “Please.”

  Smiling, Cesco replaced the items and sat. “Shall we send for Verde? Must I listen to her denials?”

  “There's no need,” said Mastino. “I know it was her hand behind this. I knew it the moment Bonaventura fell dead. I saw her doctor my uncle's drink.”

  “Dear me. She has no fear of the family curse?”

  “Something you two have in common,” said Mastino.

  “Shouldn't you rush to condemn her? Does not the curse fall on you if you stay silent?”

  “Why? I knew nothing, and did nothing.”

  “Truer words were never uttered.”

  Mastino banished his flicker of irritation. This was too important. “If you know, and have such proof, why stay your hand?”

  “For the family. It was my father's will. That's not to say I am afraid to act. But I'd like to avoid more scandal. Right now, the blame falls very neatly at the feet of Salvatore. My friends are already speculating that he poisoned both Cangrande and myself before he fled. I could be willing to leave it there.”

  “But there are conditions.”

  “There are,” agreed Cesco. “First, Rizzardo will go to England, as my ambassador. We'll give Mariotto's cousin the help he requires. And Rizzardo will naturally take his beloved wife with him – she's the brains, and will hopefully carry off any needed subterfuge with grace and cunning.”

  “And second?”

  “I think the campaigning season is done for the year, don't you? With the death of our beloved Cangrande, Verona must spend the coming months solidifying our base and fortifying our defences.”

  “And that's what I'll be doing?”

  “No no! Such dull work for such a glorious knight, internationally renowned for his skill at the giostre! I thought you would much rather travel. You have so many foreign admirers. What could be more natural than to join the tournament circuit?”

  “Exile,” said Mastino.

  “Hardly. Verona will pay your every expense, rejoice in your every victory. You can see the world, bringing the glory of Verona to foreign shores. With my connections at the imperial court, you will have entrée everywhere.”

  “A life of leisure,” said Mastino.

  “Of sport and fame,” replied Cesco.

  “Of no significance.”

  “None whatsoever,” agreed Cesco.

  Mastino nodded. “I'd like some of that wine – my bottle, not yours.”

  Cesco slid an open bottle across the table, and Mastino poured into his cup. He drank deeply, licking his lips. “And if my sister and I decide to remain in Verona?”

  Cesco spread his hands regretfully. “It will come out. Rizzardo will receive the full weight of law for the murder of Cangrande, and though we have no evidence of Verde's complicity, she'll be damned by association. Especially for the death of Petruchio. For some, that crime will be even greater. And she was with Detto's mother, Donna Katerina, at the hour of her passing. Too many coincidences. The question will be asked, why? Why murder Cangrande? What would she gain? Why, nothing – unless I were to drop dead as well. Since we both drank the doctored wine, it will be seen as an attempt to remove us both, paving the way for you, her beloved brother, to seize the reins of power. Innocent or no, you'll be damned for it. The doctors will come forward and remind the people of our first meeting, and then tell them the truth – that I was poisoned that day. You had nothing to do with it, but I doubt Doge Dandolo will pipe up to claim his own culpability. In fact, to gain Verona's favour, he may even offer to swear you came to him with the plan. Venetians have such a loose relationship with truth. You will be accused of poisoning me. Then it will come out that all those rich gifts did not originate from kings and princes, but from a private city fund with your name on it.” Mastino started, and Cesco laughed. “Oh yes! Did you think so many foreign princes even know your name? No no, Narcissus! All those pretty baubles, those wonderful clothes, that magnificent armour – it all came from your own coffers. Or so it shall appear. How will the masses take that? Spending Verona's wealth for your own aggrandizement? You'll be chased from the city – hounded, even – and forced to live that exile you mentioned, without the benefit of Verona's purse to support you.” Cesco offered a friendly smile. “Leave, and you may have honour and wealth. Stay, and you will leave anyway, but with neither.”

  Mastino was silent for a long time, turning the goblet in his hands around and around as he examined the lip. He drank again. “It's very good. Very good. I'm impressed.”

  “Thank you,” said Cesco.

  Mastino set the goblet down and leaned his elbows on the table. “I would accept the former offer, obviously.”

  “I thought you might.”

  Starting to rise, Cesco was checked by Mastino's voice. “Still – there is a third option.”

  Resuming his seat, Cesco cocked his head in amusement. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “The same one you offered Fuchs a year ago.” Pushing tray and bottle aside, Mastino leaned forward on his elbows and pointed both forefingers at Cesco's chest. “You run. You take all the blame and run today, this very hour. Run for your life.”

  Forty-One

  CESCO STARED, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Cos, you are fearsome indeed. But there is nothing on this earth that could make me run from you.”

  Unperturbed, Mastino steepled his fingers. “Not from me, no. But you'll run. In fact, there's a horse waiting at the stable, saddled. A replacement for the one the Paduan stole. My gift to you.”

  “I'll have to examine its mouth carefully. Are you well, cos? Or demented? I'm not leaving. I'm the Heir, not you. The armies, the people, the nobles – they'll all follow me.”

  “Not when they see you run.”

  Cesco gave a puzzled laugh. “Are you trying to frighten me? I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “I know you, Francesco the Greyhound, Savior of Mankind,” said Mastino mockingly. Cesco's eyebrows went up. “O yes! I know more about you than you do. Fortune put the opportunity in my lap, the means to destroy you. It couldn't have worked while Cangrande was alive. Now the way is clear.”

  “If you're talking of Rosalia, no one will believe you.”

  “Ha! No, though we will speak of her anon. No, we must discuss another woman entirely. Didn't you wonder what Cangrande and I talked of, alone, on the eve of his death? It wasn't of his daughter. Not even of his sons. It was of your mother.”

  Cesco was silent, his face mild as he gestured for Mastino to continue.

  “Four years ago this very week. Do you remember? Your grand entrance into Cangrande's court. The feast thrown by Capulletto, the night his little Giulietta was born. Your thieving of Cangrande's horse. Our little joust that left me face down in the mud. Well, while you went off to celebrate, I retired to the palace to change clothes and nurse my injured pride. It so happened that your mother arrived in the company of our late, lamented aunt Katerina. Donna Maria d'Amabilio. Such a remarkable lady, with those dark features and that lovely lilt to her voice. Naturally I slipped behind a tapestry to listen. What a chance Fortune was giving me! I overheard Ser Alaghieri talking with your mother, sharing so many secrets. Apparently we have you to thank for the grand ending of Dante's epic poem. Well done, cousin. I applaud you.” He clapped his hands together in soft mockery.

  Cesco inclined his head, a polite smile across his face. “Go on, please.”
/>
  “As you doubtless remember, she departed the next day. Cangrande wanted her gone as swiftly as possible, lest her maternal instinct prove impossible to overcome. Well, I had more questions for her. If Cangrande wanted her gone, I had to know why. Fuchs caught her on the road, and – pressed her for information.”

  Cesco was no longer smiling. “I know how he pressed her.”

  Mastino opened his hands. “He employed the methods of the Church. She fought, he told me. He asked her in every way, and she kept back the truth as long as she could. But at last she revealed what was hidden.”

  Cesco was thinking of his mother, but also of Antonia, who had suffered similarly at the hand of Fuchs. And Mastino had known it all.

  Mastino, who was now grinning at him. “You're thinking that you'll ruin me no matter what.”

  “Yes,” agreed Cesco.

  Standing and crossing to the window at his back, Mastino glanced down at the quiet square below. “You would have done, anyway. Your clemency is like your moods – too mercurial. One day you would remember the debt you owe me for spoiling your marriage to your beloved Rosalia, and send men to murder me in my bed, or in the lists. I'd rather be certain of your enmity.”

  “You have it,” said Cesco. “The horse that's waiting – you'd best get on it. I'll give you tonight.”

  “Then that's what I'll give you,” retorted Mastino. “Just this one night to run. And the best part? You'll want to. You'll even want to thank me, though your pride won't let you say it.”

  Cesco's hand dropped casually, fingers drumming the hilt of Cangrande's sword. “Can I offer my thanks with steel?”

  Mastino turned and opened his arms wide. “Be my guest. I am unarmed. Kill me. Strike me down and put my head on the battlements. Just know that if you do, you'll be losing the thing you want most.”

  “Killing you will save Verona.”

  “At the cost of the girl.”

  Cesco frowned. His voice went flat. “You said this wasn't about Rosalia.”

  “No. I said the secret isn't about her. And it isn't. Cangrande's last secret. The one that he begged me to keep from you at all costs. That's what we talked about. Ever since Fuchs confessed to killing your mother, Cangrande suspected I knew the truth. But only as he lay dying did he voice that fear. He knew what a powerful weapon I held. I swore to him that I would never make public what I knew. That was not enough, though. He demanded an oath to never tell you.”

  “And you're about to break that oath,” said Cesco.

  “How little you know me, cousin,” said Mastino. “I am the keeper of oaths. I didn't call down the family curse on my head by murdering a member of the family, as you did with Federigo.”

  “As did your sister with Cangrande.”

  “She can hang for all I care. I have no interest in her pathetic schemes, save for how they affect me.”

  “So why are you taunting me with this secret that you won't reveal to me?”

  “Because I've given you all the pieces already. Based on what we learned from your Scottish mother, I had Fuchs buy the house in Padua. I even made sure the name of the ship was plainly visible on the only fresco left untouched. I have to say, it took you long enough to find it. I've been waiting for months. You've been so disappointing, caught up in your malaise over your lost love, punishing everyone and everything around you. Where was the Cesco I knew and feared? The child who loved puzzles so much he obsessed over the pieces – where had he gone? Now, when I needed him most, he'd vanished! I was counting on you, and you let me down. Even when Aiello inadvertently offered up the clue of your mother's nationality, still you did nothing! Then you up and vanished after the Palio. I heard you were ill.”

  “Another plot, from another corner of the family,” said Cesco. “So many ambushes, they all collided.”

  “It doesn't matter,” said Mastino. “Things have worked out for the best. Now the field is clear. It's just you and me. So, in return for your generous offer earlier, I have an offer for you. You leave tonight on the horse I have waiting. There's a bag of gold, some food, a change of clothes, and a sword. Everything a clever man requires. Tomorrow, I will take that bottle there and declare that you poisoned Cangrande. I'll reveal that your tame Moor has been slipping you poison for years to build up your immunity for just this moment. It has led to your instability, which all have borne witness to. You slipped the poison into Cangrande's drink in January, and when your shaft missed its target, you waited until Treviso was won to strike again. At this point, Capulletto's groom will come forward and say it was you who murdered Federigo just months after your arrival in Verona, proving you already have a taste for picking off members of the family.”

  “And why did I do all this,” asked Cesco, “when it all would have been mine someday?”

  “Because of your plots with foreign powers. It will be let known that you have been leaving your house to scheme with your Moor, using a certain whore in La Rosa Colta, an Arab girl, as your emissary. When she was kidnapped, you risked all to save her, which will speak to your devotion to the infidel. She has vanished, but I'm sure the Abbot of San Zeno will have no trouble denouncing you without her testimony. You are already a pariah with the churchmen here. Only your station has protected you. When your absence in the Spring is attributed not to illness, but rather with meeting your foreign masters, I think your last buckler will be ripped away.”

  “And at what price have I sold Verona?”

  “To the East, you have promised the infidels, whose tongue you speak so well, that you will remove Venice as a threat to their shores. After all, you've shown no love for God, and have publicly questioned the tenets of our faith. Little wonder, if you've fallen under the spell of the Mohammedans! At the same time you have taken a vow to the Holy Roman Emperor, whose favourite catamite you are rumoured to be, to prevent any Veronese threat to his throne. Thus you murdered Cangrande to keep him off the imperial throne, and mean to thrust Verona into a costly war with Venice to aid your true masters, the infidels.”

  At the end of this impressive diatribe, Cesco blinked several times, then burst out laughing! “O, cousin! O, my dear fellow – I had no idea! That's marvelous! Absolutely splendid. Truly, it is. So complete. Using every trick of my own history against me, and so well! I presume that Signor Benedick will be indicted, too. But what about the rest of my merry band? You can't murder all of them.”

  “No,” agreed Mastino. “They'll all be innocent dupes. Save for cousin Bailardetto. He's far too much your creature to ever denounce you. I admit, I had some hopes for him early in the year, when you two seemed to be quarreling. But he disappointed me as well.”

  Cesco was smiling in deep appreciation. “It's really so good.” He slapped his knee. “So good. I had no idea you could play at this level! My God, it almost makes me like you.”

  Mastino refilled his goblet. “I'm glad you approve.”

  “Still, there's one rather obvious flaw in your plan.”

  “Is there?” inquired Mastino, still grinning.

  “Yes. I have no reason to take that horse you've so kindly outfitted. And if I am here to denounce you and Verde, your accusations will seem so far-fetched, so ludicrous, they'll never be believed.”

  “Ah, but that's the stick. You haven't yet tasted the carrot.”

  “I don't care much for carrots,” said Cesco.

  “You'll like this one,” said Mastino. “I think this particular carrot would make you climb to Heaven and drag Cangrande back down to earth so you could indeed murder him.”

  Cesco's smile dimmed as his eyes narrowed. “This highly-vaunted secret.”

  “Yes. The one I promised I wouldn't tell you. But it's no fault of mine if you figure it out for yourself. You found the ship's name. I imagine Ser Alaghieri, the new Count of San Bonifacio, will have the truth by now.”

  “So we wait for him?”

  “We could,” said Mastino, pulling a pained expression. “But I want to see your face when you figure it
out. As it happens, I have all the needed records here.” Opening a chest by the wall, Mastino withdrew a bundle of papers, bound and sealed. “You can thank the Templars. They began the banking trend, and with it they started keeping lists of everything. Shipping records. Passenger manifests.” Drawing near the table, he waved the bundle about in the air. “I have here the passenger manifest and port calls for La Alisceote. It is a copy, true. But by now your Nuncle Pietro will have seen the original, and hopefully talked to members of the crew. It's also witnessed by the captain. So you can trust it to be true.” He held it out. “As I said, I promised Cangrande I would never tell you. I said nothing about showing.”

  Recalling Cangrande's insistence that he stop looking into La Alisceote, Cesco knew this was the ultimate secret. The reason for keeping him from his mother, perhaps even the key to the cryptic code she had carved into the wood of the shack where Fuchs had tortured her. Beware the Prince called Mastino. More than Mastino's boasting, it was Cangrande's fear that made Cesco certain this was the answer to the questions that had plagued him all his life. Not star-charts, not prophecies. This.

  He could turn it away, toss it in the fire, deny Mastino the victory he was anticipating. Reading it would jeopardize all the Scaliger had tried to do. Mastino felt certain that, whatever it contained, it would make Cesco run from his rightful title as master of Verona. What could be so terrible? What secret was so awful that it would drive him mad with fear?

  Reaching out, Cesco took the papers, broke the seal, and began to read.

  ♦ ◊ ♦

  PIETRO AND THARWAT ARRIVED in Verona at dusk. Quickly they heard all the events of the day. They sent an urgent message to Cesco's house, but the master had not returned home after they had interred the Scaliger's body. Only Antonia and Morsicato were there, waiting with the tearful Maddelena for Cesco to appear.