He suddenly felt so glad to be home that he put his arms round Jan and gave her a kiss.
‘Good Lord,’ she said. ‘You’re in a good mood! Do I take it that you and Ayesha are back together?’
‘Maybe,’ said Matt and grinned, glad that his face didn’t hurt too much to do it.
There were about thirty Manoush filling the gaol in the Palace of Justice. They had to be kept together in two cells, though Antonio would have preferred it if they’d had no opportunity to confer with one another.
He was not best pleased at being got out of bed just after midnight and told that were some two and a half dozen new prisoners detained under the anti-magic laws. He had not expected to have to invoke the death penalty so soon or for so many people.
But he didn’t understand why the brightly dressed and wild-eyed people, men and women, were so distraught. Almost all were weeping and some were howling like animals in pain.
‘What’s the matter with them?’ Antonio asked the gaoler. It was true that they were all liable to be sentenced to death, the Governor realised uncomfortably, but he hadn’t expected this reaction.
‘They do not sleep indoors,’ said a familiar voice. And there was his wife, wrapped in a vast shawl, who had followed him, unnoticed, from their house. ‘You know nothing about the Manoush,’ said Giunta icily. ‘It is like putting a wild animal in a cage, to separate them from the stars at night.’
Chapter 22
Death by Burning
Rodolfo had told Matt not to stravagate the next night and he was glad of another day before he had to face the pain of his injuries back in Talia. School was bad enough. There didn’t seem to be a single sixth former without a hangover and some had called in sick.
‘Thank goodness Guy Fawkes’ Night is on a Saturday this year,’ said Jan Wood in the staffroom. ‘Or we’d have all this to go through again. It’s like teaching eighteen bowls of cold porridge.’
Her son, of course, was one of the few who were not the worse for drinking too much at the party, for the simple reason that he had not been there. But somehow everyone assumed that he had, including Chay, and thought that was why he looked a bit rough.
Matt didn’t correct them. What could he say? I was really in another world, getting a vicious beating, and I might have died if it hadn’t been for my friends there?
He shuddered whenever he thought of it. He had never been so pleased to see anyone as when Enrico had come back to Luciano’s house and pulled the book out of his jerkin. He had just been so glad to hold it in his hands, like a lifebelt.
‘Thanks, mate,’ was all he could say. ‘You’ve saved my life.’
Rodolfo had made him stravagate home straight away so he didn’t see if Enrico got any kind of reward.
And what a homecoming! His room full of friends, Ayesha kissing him as if she meant never to stop and, inexplicably, Luciano and his Elizabethan foster-father standing in the middle of the room silently cheering. He was glad they had stravagated back almost immediately. Four extra Barnsbury students to find breakfast for was just about OK; Jan had coped with more than that in the past. But two sixteenth-century Talians, one of them talking like Shakespeare, would have been a bit much to explain.
Ayesha joined him for lunch just as usual and it was enough just to look at her, smiling across at him. But she wanted it put into words.
‘You gave me such a fright last night,’ she began. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.’
‘I can’t promise not to go to Talia,’ said Matt. ‘I don’t know if what I went there to do is done yet. But I can promise to try not to be captured again. I’ll be extra careful.’
‘You said you were pretending to be Luciano when you were taken prisoner,’ said Ayesha. ‘Maybe that’s what you were supposed to do. Sort of take the bullet for him. Not that they hurt you, of course.’
Matt hadn’t told her what the di Chimici servant had done. There was no point. She’d only worry and there was nothing to see in this world. He wondered whether it would have shown if they’d broken his nose. And what would have happened if they’d killed him?
‘But the main thing is you’re here and we’re OK, aren’t we?’ Ayesha was asking.
‘We are as far as I’m concerned,’ said Matt. ‘Have you forgiven me for what I did to Jago?’
‘Well, it was incredibly stupid,’ said Ayesha. ‘But it doesn’t seem to have done any lasting harm. And now that you’ve explained about stravagation I can understand about why you wanted to be with the others so much.’
‘You see why I couldn’t tell you before?’ asked Matt.
‘I wouldn’t have believed you,’ said Ayesha. ‘Not if I hadn’t seen what happened to Jago and then you bringing Lucien here. I still don’t understand most of it but I do believe that’s what’s happening to you.’
‘You don’t fancy a quick trip to Talia, like Alice?’ Matt asked.
Ayesha shook her head. ‘No. I’ve talked to her about that and she said it was horrible. She had to wear pantomime clothes and there was this scary big sculptor lady who terrified her and everyone was carrying knives and swords. And she said that Sky and Nick both got stabbed.’
Matt made a mental note to ask them why their wounds had come back to this world with them when his hadn’t. He wasn’t as confident as Ayesha that his mission in Talia had been fulfilled. But he was happy just to be able to hold her hands over the table and know that they were back together.
The Manoush were on trial in the Palace of Justice. The public benches were packed. It was the first public prosecution under the new anti-magic laws and some, like the di Chimici cousins and Enrico, had come out of curiosity. Others were there because they had been harbouring the Manoush in their homes and didn’t want to become suspect by staying away.
Messer Antonio was extremely ill at ease with the whole process. Of course he didn’t approve of goddess-worship; it was anathema to him. But it had rattled him seeing the distress of the Manoush in his city’s prison. It wasn’t just their hatred of sleeping indoors; they had seemed genuinely to believe that the New Year could not begin properly without their rituals being completed.
One of their number, a man called Ottavio Camlo, seemed to be a sort of spokesman. He was about Antonio’s own age, his grizzled hair worn long and tied back by a black ribbon. He had explained to the Governor that, if they were prevented from celebrating the Day of the Dead in the way their traditions demanded, there was a danger that spirits summoned up on the night the Manoush were arrested would continue to walk the streets. The fact that he was in imminent danger of losing his life seemed to bother him less than this possibility.
The guards who had arrested the Manoush were the prime witnesses to their impious acts. But they were hardly needed. The group of travellers did not deny that they were goddess-worshippers; they would have scorned to.
‘Do you plead guilty to an act of pagan worship and ceremony in Padavia last night?’ asked Antonio.
‘We were indeed performing our annual ceremony to welcome the Day of the Dead,’ said Ottavio, speaking for the whole group. ‘We see no guilt in that. It is our religion.’
‘Well,’ said Antonio, not wanting to be impressed. ‘It is not the religion of this city-state. And the laws of Padavia clearly declare it illegal to practise it here. There are notices in all the public places. The Zinti can read, can’t they?’
Ottavio looked straight ahead. ‘The Manoush read the notices,’ he said.
‘Then the verdict of this court must be Guilty,’ said Antonio. ‘You knew the law and yet you went ahead and broke it.’
‘We respect the law,’ said Ottavio. ‘But we cannot put law above religion. We have a greater duty, to the goddess.’
There was a buzz of agreement from the other prisoners.
It was just as Giunta had warned him that terrible night when he told her about the new laws; these goddess-worshippers were brave, there was no doubt about that. But it chilled him to think what he must now do
.
There was no way out for Antonio, no tiny chink in the law through which the travellers could escape and move to another city, whose laws were less strict.
‘It is therefore my solemn and disagreeable duty to pass the most severe sentence on you and all your people arrested last night,’ said Antonio. ‘It is this court’s verdict that the prisoners be taken from this place and held in captivity two more nights until the legitimate church festival of All Saints is concluded. Then on Thursday they must suffer the full penalty of the law and be subject to death by burning.’
Before he went to bed that night, Jan called Matt to the phone. It was his great-aunt Eva.
‘Hello, Matt,’ she said. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Well, actually, I’m pretty tired. Going to have an early night.’
‘I won’t keep you,’ said Eva. ‘I just wanted to tell you something. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I got back. My father had the same problem as you.’
‘Needed an early night?’ said Matt. He didn’t really feel like a profound conversation.
‘He had problems with reading and writing. It wasn’t called dyslexia in his day and I think he suffered terribly at school from teachers who thought he wasn’t very bright.’
‘I know how he felt.’
‘The thing is, Matt, he was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. He worked hard all his life and he valued education. He was so proud when I got into Cambridge. He really wanted me and your grandfather to have a better life than he had. But reading and writing were a mystery to him.’
‘Well, thanks for telling me,’ said Matt. He had been told by one of his ed psychs that dyslexia was hereditary. But this was the first time he’d heard of any family member with reading problems; he’d thought till now that they were all brainy bookish types on Jan’s side and all musical or arty ones on Andy’s.
‘Why haven’t you mentioned it before?’ he asked.
‘I think I’ve been rather a foolish old woman,’ said Eva. ‘I’ve been putting my head in the sand like the proverbial ostrich. I didn’t really want to accept that you were the same as my dad. I hoped you would grow out of it in time. But Jan really put me right on my last visit. I understand now that you have to have all the extra help you can get. And if you do go to Cambridge, or any other university and there’s anything I can do to help with computers or extra tuition, please ask me first. I’ve got far more money than I need.’
‘Thanks, Eva,’ said Matt. But her acceptance of his dyslexia meant more to him even than the offer of money. He wouldn’t have to pretend with her any more.
‘That’s all right,’ said Eva. ‘And thank you for introducing me to that delightful Mr Goldsmith. He’s coming to visit me in Brighton in a few weeks. I think I really do need to get rid of some of my books.’
Go, Eva, thought Matt, as he staggered up to bed.
For the second day running, Constantin did no work in his Secret Scriptorium. Feeling was running high in the city and it was just too dangerous. Those in favour of the anti-magic laws were in a fever of spying and informing on fellow-citizens. Those who thought the laws unnecessarily repressive were scandalised by the verdict on the Manoush.
As soon as their sentence had been given, a tall red-haired prisoner had jumped up and condemned the court for being willing to kill them all indiscriminately. ‘Let the men among us burn but release our women and children,’ he demanded.
The word was that the Governor was ashamed in the face of such bravery but stood firm on his verdict.
It had never been expected that the first prosecution and execution would involve such a large number. Even if they were burned in groups, a great quantity of fires would have to be built. The whole of the Piazza dei Fiori was filled with men and brushwood preparing for the grisly task.
Constantin saw it on his way to visit the anatomist, Angelo Angeli. He stopped, filled with disgust at what human beings were capable of doing to one another. In the next square preparations were going on for the evening’s festivities celebrating the Church’s Festival of the Dead. There would be feasting and drinking and fireworks as soon as the evening services were over.
So close, thought Constantin, to the place of execution and so unmindful of what would happen there in two days’ time. He had lived long enough to accept life and death as inextricably woven into the pattern of the world but such callous indifference to the fate of fellow human beings shocked him.
Professor Angeli had rooms off the market square. He was delighted to see Constantin. He poured wine for them both and rubbed his hands in anticipation.
‘Have you come about the book?’ he asked as soon as it was decent to do so.
Constantin took a volume from his canvas satchel.
‘Here it is Angeli – the Teoria Anatomica – I have brought you one copy. Nando has the rest hidden, ready for sale.’
The Professor put on his reading-glasses, the very latest invention.
‘But this is quite wonderful,’ he said, greedily turning the pages. ‘The engravings are magnificent!’
Constantin inclined his head and drank deeply from the wine glass.
‘You seem downcast,’ said Angeli. ‘Is it always so when you have completed the production of a great work?’
‘It is not that,’ said Constantin. ‘It is the coming deaths of nearly thirty people old and young, for practising their religion.’
‘I heard about that,’ said Angeli. ‘It is a terrible thing. But they did break the law.’
‘Which they believed to be wrong,’ said Constantin. ‘Ah well, you will have plenty of opportunity on Thursday to observe the effect of fire on human bodies.’
‘Do not say so,’ said Angeli. ‘It will not be an occasion for rejoicing.’
*
‘We can’t just let them die!’ said Luciano, pacing up and down the room. ‘They’ve done nothing wrong. And these are Aurelio and Raffaella’s people. Ludo is my friend.’
‘I have no intention of letting them die,’ said Rodolfo. ‘The only question is, how best to save them? There is no loophole in the law – it is very clearly worded and they broke it.’
‘Whatte aboute an appeal for clemencie?’ asked Dethridge. ‘The Governour seems a decent manne. Mayhap we could appeal to his sense of honour? Atte least for the femayles and childer?’
‘I think that Antonio is deeply regretting passing those laws,’ said Rodolfo. ‘But he has very little room to manoeuvre.’
‘I have escaped the fyre myselfe,’ said Dethridge. ‘And I shalle notte stand aside and watch othires suffer yt.’
‘That’s it!’ said Luciano. ‘You escaped to Talia, using your talisman. We must get talismans for all the Manoush, so that they can do a . . . a sort of mass stravagation to my old world.’
‘And then what?’ asked Rodolfo, but not unkindly. ‘Who will look after thirty such travellers in your old world and give them food and work? Do you come from such a civilisation that all of them would be made welcome and kindly treated? And could they survive, taken from the rest of their people?’
Luciano saw all the problems, collecting thirty talismans for a start, then explaining to two and a half dozen terrified people about stravagating to the world of the twenty-first century. He had a flashback memory of Eastern European women with toddlers begging on the Tube, carrying little bits of cardboard with a few words giving their history written on them.
What could the Manoush write? They would be the most displaced persons ever in the history of London. And although it would be true that their lives would be in danger if they were sent home, how could they ever explain that to the authorities?
‘Well, perhaps not. But then what are we to do?’ he asked Rodolfo.
‘I wolde helpe him collect the talismans,’ said Dethridge eagerly. ‘Yt wolde not be so badde to goe agayne. I have seene whatte yt is lyke, now.’
‘I think we must have a different plan,’ said Rodolfo. ‘If the Manoush
are to be taken away, it must be to somewhere nearer here.’
‘Where?’ asked Luciano.
‘Bellezza,’ said Rodolfo. ‘If only there were a Stravagante there now. But we are all here.’
‘My wife is there,’ said Dethridge. ‘I have taught her how to use the mirror.’
‘And my wife is there too,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Leonora can go to her for help.’
‘I’m sure Arianna would want to help,’ said Luciano. ‘But we’ve got to rescue them first.’
Dethridge was counting on his fingers. ‘I have yt!’ he said. ‘The execution will be in two days’ time. Yf we have enough of our friends to unbind them, I canne warrant thatte we wille be able to do yt. There wille be a riske, of course, bot yt canne be done.’
*
Rinaldo was flushed and excited at the success of the trial, as he saw it. He had sent his long-suffering messenger with a letter to Fabrizio in Giglia, telling him that around thirty ‘pagans’ were to suffer the full force of the new laws. Laws that he, Cardinal di Chimici, had influenced the city’s Governor to adopt.
He could still not report any success in getting Luciano to incriminate himself by committing magical acts. And he doubted whether he should say anything about Filippo’s unintentional short trip to the other world.
The two cousins had experimented with holding the book and hitting each other but with no result except one black eye (the Cardinal) and one split lip (Filippo). They gave up their experiments by mutual agreement, glaring at each other.
The servants gossiped among themselves about how the two noble cousins had clearly been in a fight – and one of them a churchman. It was a matter of great satisfaction to the footman that Matt had attacked.
The di Chimici were no nearer to discovering how stravagation worked but Filippo was definite that he had been transported to another world and that it was connected to the book. Neither man had any idea that the original book had been switched by Enrico.
But Rinaldo had decided to investigate what the spy had told him about Professor Angeli. He paid a visit to the Anatomy Theatre, which was not in use over the three-day holiday, and looked at the room which held the bodies before dissection and examined the mechanism by which the table rose up into the theatre.