The young mare broke into a trot, then a canter and was at full gallop before she unfurled her mighty wings. With a few lazy flaps she was aloft and Georgia saw the rose-coloured City of Stars dwindling beneath them. She clutched Merla’s mane, ready for their next adventure.
*
When Sulien re-entered his cell the two brothers were sitting on the bed with their arms round each other. He smiled at them.
‘Welcome, Prince Falco,’ he said.
‘Alas, I am that no longer,’ said the new Stravagante, slipping back into his former way of speech.
‘What shall we call you?’ asked Gaetano. ‘You’ll have to have a new name while you are here.’
‘How about Benvenuto?’ said the boy. ‘If I am really welcome.’
‘Brother Benvenuto indeed,’ said Gaetano.
‘And now we must give you your disguise,’ said Sulien, opening the chest and taking out a set of robes.
‘I hope they fit him,’ said Gaetano. ‘He is taller than me now.’
When he was dressed in the robes, Nicholas looked the part of a Dominican novice. He tried pulling the hood up over his face and Gaetano said, ‘No one would recognise you now – even the family. You are so much taller, and of course they would not be expecting to see you.’
‘You made it all right, then?’ said Sky and they turned and saw him, already robed, on Sulien’s cot.
The two novices faced each other. Nicholas couldn’t wait to get out into the streets of Giglia, but he also wanted to spend time with his brother, and the others had to remind him how dangerous it would be to be seen with the prince.
‘You may look very different from when you left,’ said Sulien, ‘but you don’t want anyone to make the link because of seeing you two together.’
Gaetano stayed with them for breakfast and they met Sandro in the refectory. The boy showed no signs of recognising Prince Falco.
‘Another novice?’ he said suspiciously, when Sulien introduced him to the new ‘Brother Benvenuto’. ‘How many are you going to have?’
‘As many as are called,’ said Sulien. ‘There is always room in God’s house.’
Sandro was disposed to be jealous of the new novice. He regarded Brother Sulien as his personal property and wasn’t at all pleased that he had to share him with another young friar. And this Benvenuto seemed much too friendly with Brother Tino, who was also Sandro’s own discovery.
When the prince left and the two novices went out into the city, Sandro trailed alongside them, as his dog trotted after him.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘We have a commission to Giuditta Miele, from Brother Sulien,’ said Sky. ‘Why don’t I meet you later, back up here?’
Sandro recognised that he was being got rid of and remained, sulking, in the piazza outside Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines.
*
It was a glorious day and the sun warmed Georgia’s right side as she flew north on Merla. She was wearing a russet-brown dress of Teresa’s and it felt awkward riding with a full skirt. But she had bunched it up around her and left her legs bare to the sun. They flew over fields and meadows, the people of Tuschia tiny beneath them, tilling the earth and pulling vegetables like the little figures in a book of hours. The countryside was gently undulating, with small green hills crowned by cypresses and brick farmhouses with terracotta roofs. She could see miniature cattle and sheep and the blue threads of streams winding between green banks.
After about three quarters of an hour of Merla’s steady flight, Georgia began to see in the distance the signs of a great city, much bigger than Remora. It was surrounded by meadows of flowers of every colour; Georgia could detect their scent even from this height. Strong defensive walls encircled the city and Georgia looked out for a gap in them, which would show her where to land.
She whispered in Merla’s ear and the flying horse began her descent. She landed on the edge of a meadow of bluebells, where two figures waited, as colourful as the flowers. Georgia climbed off the horse, shook out her skirt and clasped hands with the Manoush. Merla whickered a greeting and went with them happily.
‘We shall take good care of her,’ said Aurelio, stroking the horse’s nose. ‘We are taking her to a small homestead that belongs to the friary.’
He pointed out to Georgia a cluster of buildings in a field, then Raffaella took her as far as the road.
‘It’s that way to the river,’ said Raffaella. ‘You know how to go from there?’
‘Yes,’ said Georgia. ‘Thank you. I’ll be back well before nightfall.’
She walked towards the city. On her right stood the great edifice of the Nucci palace, gleaming in its newness, with its vast fringe of gardens. It was her first glimpse of Giglia and she was impressed. Past the little church, she set foot on the stone bridge and smiled as its smells assailed her. She stopped and looked out over the river. It looked like a picture postcard of other people’s Italian holidays. But there was no time to look longer; she had to get to her meeting place.
Giglia was very different from Remora, full of grand buildings and squares. Georgia followed the map in her mind and crossed the great piazza with its statues. Soon she reached the cathedral, whose cupola dominated the city and had beckoned her here to its centre from a great distance. She skirted it warily, following it round to the east end. How was she to tell which was Giuditta’s bottega among this jumble of little buildings?
*
The statue of the Duchessa was finished. Sky and Nicholas gazed at it in admiration. Nicholas had never seen its subject; he had already been unconscious when Arianna came to Remora. And Sky had met her only once so far. And yet both of them knew the statue was a masterpiece.
Two of Giuditta’s apprentices were polishing the marble of the white figure. Arianna stood oblivious of their caresses, grasping the rail of her ceremonial barge. She looked proud and independent, most unlikely to yield to persuasion or intimidation. Her creator stood opposite her, almost a mirror image of determination.
‘She’s made the Duchessa look like her,’ whispered Nicholas.
‘Only more beautiful,’ said Sky.
‘Perhaps,’ said Nicholas. ‘But Giuditta is beautiful too – in her own way.’
‘Don’t let her hear you say that,’ said Sky. ‘I shouldn’t think she likes to be flattered.’
‘That reminds me,’ said Nicholas. ‘I wonder if Georgia’s all right?’
‘I’ll go and look for her,’ said Sky.
It had been Nicholas’s first test as Benvenuto, walking to Giuditta’s workshop, and no one in the streets had given him a second glance. He thought that one of Giuditta’s apprentices – a blond boy with angelic curls – had stared at him a little too long, but put that down to natural curiosity. Now Nicholas gazed at Giuditta, fascinated. He knew that she had sculpted his memorial statue and it made him feel very peculiar to think about it.
Sky stood outside the workshop in the lee of the cathedral, making sure to stay in the doorway so that his absence of shadow would not be seen. He was soon rewarded by the sight in the distance of a familiar figure with a head of red, white and black hair. He could not greet her out loud, as it would hardly be seemly for a novice to hail an attractive young woman in the street, but he closed his eyes and concentrated his thoughts on her, using the fact that they were both Stravaganti to guide her to him.
He opened his eyes to see Georgia coming towards him, a relieved look on her face. He beckoned her inside the workshop. Franco looked up appreciatively at this new arrival and Sky suddenly saw Georgia through the apprentice’s eyes. A tall and quite graceful figure in a simple russet dress, with her dramatic hair colouring, she could be an aristocrat in disguise or a woman of the streets. Either way, she didn’t look like a suitable friend for two young novice friars. Giuditta must have thought the same, because she shooed all the apprentices out of the workshop and told them to take a long break.
The Stravaganti were alone together. But not for long. A w
ell-dressed middle-aged woman entered from the street before they could even greet one another properly. She had the air of a wealthy woman who had wandered in to commission a portrait bust of her late husband, perhaps, and was accompanied by a tall red-headed servant. Sky had a vague half memory of having seen her somewhere before. His heart sank at the interruption but Giuditta made no attempt to get rid of the woman.
And the woman went straight up to Georgia and said, ‘I don’t think we could pass you off as a boy now, Georgia,’ and embraced her.
Sky and Nicholas stared at each other. Then light dawned on them simultaneously: this could only be the previous Duchessa of Bellezza, Arianna’s mother, who was supposed to have been assassinated by a di Chimici agent in her own audience chamber. And Sky remembered where he had seen her: in the Bellezzan Embassy, with Arianna and Rodolfo. Georgia made the introductions. Silvia took Nicholas’s hand in hers and scrutinised his face.
‘We have something in common, Prince Falco,’ she said in her low, musical voice. ‘We are both supposed to be dead. I hope your disguise will be as effective as mine.’
Then she turned to Sky. ‘And you are the new Stravagante,’ she said. ‘You have joined us at a time of great danger.’
‘I know,’ said Sky. ‘The Nucci and the weddings.’
‘And the new threat to the Duchessa from the Duke,’ said Silvia, nodding at the statue. ‘You have caught her perfectly, Giuditta. Helmswoman of the ship of state.’
‘Or figurehead,’ said a voice from the door. Guido Parola’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, as a white-haired figure entered. Nicholas shrank into the shadows, pulling his hood up over his face.
‘Good morning, Maestra,’ said the Duke to the sculptor. ‘Good morning, Brother Celestino. I trust your master is well? Good. Won’t you introduce me to your charming patroness, Giuditta? Clearly she knows something of the beautiful ruler of Bellezza.’
‘This is Signora Silvia Bellini,’ said Giuditta, almost truthfully. ‘From Padavia. I believe the Signora has seen the Duchessa on a visit to the city.’
‘That is so, your Grace,’ said Silvia, suddenly playing the part of a flustered and foolish woman thrown into confusion by the presence of the great man. She curtseyed and gestured to her servant to bow to the Duke. ‘My late husband had connections in Bellezza and I have seen the young Duchessa there on State occasions.’ She placed her hand to her heart as if it were fluttering at the honour of being in the Duke’s presence.
‘Delighted,’ said the Duke, putting Silvia’s other hand to his lips. ‘Pray don’t let me disturb your discussion with the maestra – I came merely to look on the work she has created, whose reputation is already spreading in Giglia.’
Thank goodness Luciano isn’t here, thought Sky. He would probably try to run the Duke through. As it was, Guido Parola still had his hand on his sword. Duke Niccolò walked over to the statue and caressed its white marble cheek. The tension in the workshop was unbearable.
‘So,’ he said. ‘She is clearly not holding a treaty.’
‘I made her as I saw her, your Grace,’ said Giuditta.
‘I have finished my business here, my Lord,’ said Silvia, gesturing silently to Sky to leave.
‘And so have I,’ Sky said, taking his cue. ‘We shall return to the friary.’
‘And what about the other charming lady?’ asked the Duke, not taking his eyes off the statue. So he had noticed Georgia.
‘She is one of my models,’ said Giuditta. ‘You can take a break now and come back when the apprentices do,’ she told her.
Slowly they all left the workshop, backing out of the Duke’s presence, leaving him alone with the sculptor. As soon as they got outside, Silvia beckoned the others to follow and took them into a nearby tavern. As they collapsed on to wooden benches, she ordered red wine, even though it was only the middle of the morning, and they all drank deeply when it came.
‘That was awkward,’ she said pleasantly, but Sky saw that the hand holding her goblet was shaking. Parola took his wine and stood by the door. Now that Nicholas had thrown back his hood, his face appeared white and frightened.
‘I would not have recognised him,’ he said. ‘I would have said it was here that extra years had passed – he looked so old.’
‘It was young Prince Falco’s death that did it, they say,’ said Silvia quietly.
‘Thank goodness he didn’t notice Nicholas,’ said Georgia.
‘He didn’t mention him,’ said Silvia. ‘But that is not the same thing at all.’
In the middle of the night Alice woke suddenly. She was sleeping in Georgia’s bed and Georgia was in a sleeping bag on the floor. She looked across at the body of her friend, her chest rising and falling gently with her breath. Georgia had told her that there would be nothing to see when she stravagated, but Alice peered carefully at her all the same.
Then she found it hard to get back to sleep. She lay for what felt like hours, imagining the three others in their secret world; it was too fantastic to believe that their bodies lay sleeping in this world while three alternative ones had adventures in another. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – believe it unless she experienced it herself. And yet, if it were true, it made her feel afraid. Talia seemed to be such a dangerous place. Sky hadn’t told her everything, but there had been enough about stabbing and poisons to make it sound thoroughly alarming.
Alice wondered what would happen if she tried to shake Georgia awake; she felt terribly lonely.
A meeting of the Stravaganti was held at Silvia’s lodgings that afternoon. Sky felt guilty that he was neglecting Sandro but he couldn’t miss out on the meeting. And he was beginning to see that he couldn’t really turn up at the friary with Georgia in tow; for the first time, his novice’s disguise was a hindrance.
Silvia felt it too; she offered Georgia a red scarf to hide her hair. But not before Georgia had been caught in a bear hug by William Dethridge and greeted by Rodolfo and Sulien. Best of all for her, though, was the embrace from Luciano, a long, heartfelt hug, even though only one between friends.
‘Eight of the Brotherhood in one room,’ said Rodolfo. ‘It is an honour to have you all here. We can hope to save the city in its time of danger.’
‘Um,’ said Sky. ‘Would it be even better to have nine?’
Sulien had already heard about Alice, and of course Georgia and Nicholas knew about her, but that still left four to convince that they should bring yet another talisman to their world. Luciano at least knew who Alice was, but the others were surprised at the idea of someone volunteering to come to Talia.
‘It’s the only way I can convince her that we’re not lying,’ said Sky. He felt terribly embarrassed at having to talk about his girlfriend with these distinguished grown-ups. Georgia came to his rescue, emboldened by being with Luciano again.
‘Alice is my best friend,’ she said simply. ‘And she was very unhappy because she thought that Sky had something going on with me. He’s been spending a lot of time with me and Nicholas, what with the fencing and all the talk about Talia.’
‘So it is our secrets and our problems that have brought about your own difficulty?’ asked Rodolfo. ‘You are prepared to risk your life in Talia to save others and yet we have done nothing for you. I think we should grant your request. What does everyone else think?’
‘The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned,’ said Luciano, rather wildly. He felt that the whole business of Stravaganti from his world was getting out of hand; was the whole of Barnsbury Comp going to turn up here? They could charter an inter-dimensional bus at this rate.
‘Hold harde,’ said Dethridge. ‘If the mayde is to stravayge, who is to take hir talismanne? Shee can not arrive in a house of brothires of Saint Francis.’
‘It must be me then, I suppose,’ said Giuditta. ‘I have done it before.’
Georgia felt most uncomfortable. Everyone in the room knew that she had rejected Giuditta’s talisman and she couldn’t bear the idea of Alice having
the ram that had been made for her.
‘I shall take her something from my workshop,’ continued the sculptor. ‘And she will arrive there. But my counsel is that she should come for only one stravagation, to confirm the truth of her friends’ story.’
*
Sandro was bored with spying. He no longer believed that there was any danger from the Nucci, in spite of their defensive tower and their many weapons. Their attempted poisoning of the Duke and the loss of their youngest family member were in the past now and he thought they might be a spent force. Now he was tired of hanging about outside their old palace; he would have far rather been out exploring the city with Brother Tino.
Then he remembered that Tino had gone off with the new novice without even a backward glance, and felt annoyed. Fratello was his only real friend after all, thought Sandro, and he bent to ruffle the dog’s ears. And found himself looking at a pair of feet in black shoes with silver buckles. An unpleasant scent in the air and the growl in Fratello’s throat alerted him to the presence of his master.
‘How is it going, little Sparrow?’ said Enrico genially. ‘Anything happening with our friends over there?’
‘Nothing,’ said Sandro. ‘Nothing to report at all. Can’t I go somewhere else?’
‘That’s the minute something will happen, if I know anything about it,’ said Enrico. ‘What about at the friary? Anything interesting going on there?’
The most interesting thing in the friary as far as Sandro was concerned was that he was learning to read there, and he didn’t want the Eel to know that.
‘There’s a new novice,’ he said instead. ‘Brother Benvenuto.’
‘Another one?’ said Enrico. ‘They’ll have more novices than full friars soon. Perhaps you’d better keep an eye on this one – let me know if there’s anything fishy going on. I’m never quite sure whether that Sulien is loyal to the di Chimici or not.’
Sandro said nothing. He knew now what being loyal to the ruthless di Chimici might involve and he also knew that it wasn’t a good idea to be found wanting.