‘What are you saying?’ asked the Signore.
‘I am saying that the only person culpably responsible for the death of the present Grand Duke’s father was Grand Duke Niccolò himself.’
Fabrizio leapt from his place, drawing his sword. He had to be restrained by officials of the court. Luciano did not flinch as the blade of Fabrizio’s sword swished past his face before he was disarmed.
Rodolfo whispered to Fabio, ‘It seems his education in Padavia has done him some good after all.’
Luciano continued unperturbed.
‘If the foils had not been switched, I would have been the one to die, as was Grand Duke Niccolò’s intention. He was a more experienced swordsman than I was, but he did not trust to his skill – he tried to rig the result. In other words, he cheated. Without the poison, my insignificant blow would not have killed him. I say again that Enrico Poggi was not responsible for the Grand Duke’s death and should be released.’
‘How dare you insult my father’s memory?’ snarled Fabrizio.
‘I say only what is absolutely true,’ said Luciano. ‘There are those here in this court who saw what happened.’
‘There is no one here who dares say they saw anyone but that wretch in the dock put poison on the foils!’ said Fabrizio. ‘Who is to say that he acted on my father’s instructions?’
‘I say it,’ said Enrico from the dock.
The court was in disarray and the Signore had no control over it.
‘Who will believe the word of this spy and assassin?’ asked Fabrizio.
‘May I continue, Signore?’ said Luciano.
The Signore nodded weakly. He was wondering if he would escape from this with his head on his shoulders.
‘I appeal to the Councillors,’ said Luciano. ‘The accused is innocent of this crime, but he has committed others.’
Enrico put his head in his hands.
‘He kidnapped me some years ago in Bellezza,’ said Luciano. ‘So you can see that I have no reason to defend him. But I do defend him, out of a sense of justice.’
This was going down well with the Councillors. Both Luciano and Fabrizio were fine young men, but there was no doubt which one was comporting himself better.
‘It has been said here that both Enrico Poggi and myself were responsible for Grand Duke Niccolò’s death,’ Luciano continued. ‘And I have claimed that neither of us was. But it raises an interesting question. Who is responsible for a death? The person who inflicts the fatal wound or administers the deadly poison? Or the person who orders that act?’
The court went quiet again. Rinaldo tried to leave but the doors had been bolted. He returned sheepishly to his seat.
‘The late Grand Duke,’ continued Luciano, ‘much as he was loved and valued by his family, called for more than one assassination. I know of two attempts on the life of the last Duchessa of Bellezza. I was present at the first.’
This caused a sensation.
‘If I had not intervened, the Duchessa would have died on the night of the Maddalena Feast three years ago. The assassin was arrested and repented. But the man who paid him to commit the crime is in this room.’
Luciano had certainly learned something from Professor Constantin about the tricks of Rhetoric.
The Signore knew he was so far lost in the Grand Duke’s esteem that he threw all caution aside and asked, ‘Who do you mean?’
‘Cardinal Rinaldo di Chimici,’ said Luciano.
The court erupted.
‘But he too was acting under orders, just as much as his assassin was, and those orders came from Grand Duke Niccolò.’
‘And the Duchessa did not die on that occasion,’ squeaked Rinaldo.
‘Indeed not. But that was not the last time that Grand Duke Niccolò ordered her death. The second time, the Cardinal, still at that time Reman Ambassador to Bellezza, commissioned this man here in the dock, Enrico Poggi.’
All eyes turned to the man in blue.
‘And he did indeed succeed in killing a woman he believed to be the Duchessa.’
A sigh ran round the court. The man was doomed then. The prisoner began to weep. An official gave him a handkerchief.
‘But it was not the Duchessa,’ said Luciano quietly.
‘I knew it!’ said Rinaldo, then hastily buried his face in his own handkerchief, pretending to sneeze.
Most people in the room had heard of the assassination of the late Duchessa; very few knew that she was still alive.
‘It was this poor man’s fiancée,’ said Luciano. ‘He knew that the Duchessa sometimes used a substitute, but he did not know that she had done so on that day and that it was his own beloved Giuliana.’
Enrico was sobbing openly.
‘There is no evidence for any of this taradiddle!’ shouted Fabrizio. Guido Parola stepped forward.
‘I can attest under oath that I was the first assassin hired by the Cardinal,’ he said.
The courtroom gave a collective gasp. This was their future Prince admitting to a vile crime.
‘And I have never denied I was the second,’ said the prisoner through his tears.
‘But who will say my father authorised either attempt?’ asked Fabrizio. He was glaring at his cousin the Cardinal, daring him to cut his last link to di Chimici power and say before the court that he had acted on Niccolò’s orders.
‘There has been some misunderstanding,’ wailed the Cardinal.
‘It is not any member of the di Chimici family who is on trial here, however,’ said Luciano. ‘It is this wretched man, who twice followed orders from his superior, as every soldier in the di Chimici army has done. He has already paid a terrible price for his crimes. I ask the Signore to put Enrico Poggi’s case to the members of the Signoria and I appeal to the court for mercy.’
He went and sat down.
‘Phew!’ said Georgia under her breath to the other two Stravaganti. The atmosphere in the court was so charged that none of them believed that everyone would get out alive.
The Signore leapt to his feet.
‘Members of the Signoria,’ he said, ‘let me remind you that the prisoner on trial, Enrico Poggi, is charged only with being an accessory to the death of Grand Duke Niccolò of Tuschia. Are you ready to consider a verdict on that charge?’
There was loud assent.
‘Do you need to retire to consider your verdict?’
The most senior Councillor after the Signore stood. ‘I believe we can move to a vote, Signore.’
‘All those members of the Signoria who find the accused guilty?’ asked the Signore.
Not one single hand went up.
In the dock Enrico collapsed.
‘The accused is free to go,’ said the Signore. ‘I call a recess for the midday meal before we consider the case of Bertoldo Ciampi. Court adjourned.’
The Grand Duke stormed out, with his entourage behind him.
‘Congratulations,’ Rodolfo said to Luciano. ‘I think we should get back to our mirrors as soon as possible.’
*
And so it was that the court was half empty and had no Stravaganti in it when General Ciampi was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death by hanging, the sentence to be carried out immediately.
But as Grand Duke Fabrizio watched the man’s legs kicking in the air, his appetite for vengeance was barely touched.
‘Mark my words,’ the Giglian guard said to the Morescan one. ‘All the rest of these rebel prisoners will swing tomorrow. Just their bad luck, poor swine. The Grand Duke will have no mercy now.’
Chapter 21
Safe Conduct
Alfonso di Chimici was the last person Fabio expected to find in his workshop. The Duke looked round the busy room and sought out the swordsmith. It wasn’t hard to identify him, since he was huddled over a mirror with Rodolfo and Luciano.
‘Your Grace!’ said Fabio. ‘What can I do for you?’
His professional glance flew to the sword at Alfonso’s belt.
But Alfonso
was not in need of a new weapon.
‘Is there somewhere private we can talk?’ he asked. He nodded to the other two Stravaganti to include them.
Fabio led them to his private room at the back.
‘Have you heard about the fate of the rebel General?’ asked Alfonso straight away.
They hadn’t and were appalled when he told them about Fabrizio’s summary ‘justice’.
‘We shouldn’t have left the court,’ said Luciano.
‘Not even your eloquence could have stopped it, Cavaliere,’ said Alfonso. ‘I am very worried about the Grand Duke.’
‘We have been worried for some time,’ said Rodolfo.
‘He is so … thwarted by what has happened here that I am afraid he will take a terrible vengeance on many Fortezzan citizens, who were only doing what they believed to be right in supporting the older son’s claim.’
‘What can we do to help?’ asked Fabio.
‘The Princess told me that you have a way of communicating with others of your Order in other Talian cities,’ said Alfonso. ‘There is only one person I can think of who might be able to stop Fabrizio in his thirst for blood and that is our uncle, the Pope. Can you possibly get in contact with someone in Remora?’
The Barnsbury Stravaganti had voted mainly in favour of telling Luciano’s parents of the danger he was in, but with the proviso that they should wait till after the next stravagation to Talia. Nick had been dubious about this but now he was glad that he had let Sky and Matt persuade him.
‘Luciano’s done something pretty cool,’ he told Vicky the next morning when they were back.
‘Cooler than getting married at eighteen or becoming a duke?’ asked Vicky.
She had become used to these peculiar conversations with her adopted son about her first one.
‘He saved a man’s life,’ said Nick. ‘Just by being brilliant in a court of law.’
Nick had always found it hard to talk with his adoptive parents about the boy he had replaced. He knew how upsetting they found it and it upset him too. But this was a case where he thought he had to say what Luciano had done, since he had been in such danger and, apparently not fearful for his own life, had pleaded so eloquently for someone else’s.
But Vicky didn’t seem quite as impressed as he had hoped.
‘That’s all very well, but what’s happening about my talisman?’ was all she said.
‘I don’t honestly think they’ve thought any more about it,’ said Nick. He was a bit miffed. ‘They’ve had other things on their minds.’ He didn’t know about Rodolfo’s reservations.
He suddenly wanted to ruffle her composure, to tell her that Luciano had been this close to being hanged because of Fabrizio’s vendetta, but he managed to hold back. He could see that Vicky had no concept of Luciano’s life in Talia.
Instead he went off to the café to meet the others.
‘I’m not stravagating for a while,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve got English tomorrow and then two days of French and English.’
She didn’t add – though she thought it – that there was no point going back. She had seen Ludo for the last time. Or at least the last time until she could work out how to get to Romula.
In Remora, the Horsemaster of the Ram, Paolo Montalbano, was surprised to hear from Rodolfo but understood the urgency of his call. He set out straight away for the Papal palace.
Getting in to see His Holiness was harder. The Horsemaster had a certain status in Remora but it was not an obviously ecclesiastical one. It was only when Paolo said he had a private message from the Pope’s nephew, Duke Alfonso, that he was shown in to see Lenient Vl, also known as Ferdinando di Chimici, Prince of Remora.
The Pope did not rise; indeed he looked as if rising would be an operation requiring the assistance of both his chaplains. He was enormously fat. But he waved benignly for Paolo to approach the Papal throne.
‘Holiness,’ said Paolo, bending his knee.
‘You have a message for me from young Alfonso, they say,’ said the Pope. ‘I don’t know why he didn’t send it straight to me, but still I am happy to receive it.’
‘It relates to your other nephew, the Grand Duke,’ said Paolo. ‘And is of a delicate nature.’
He looked at the chaplains.
The Pope waved them away.
‘Go and fetch some refreshments,’ he said (an order they looked quite familiar with). ‘This fellow has been searched, I am sure, and represents no threat.’
When they were alone, he beckoned the Horsemaster closer to him.
‘What is it?’ he said. ‘And why does it come through you?’
‘Holiness, you may be aware of a certain Order in Talia known as the Stravaganti,’ said Paolo.
The Pope nodded. ‘Rodolfo of Bellezza belongs to it,’ he said. ‘A good man.’
‘I too belong to that Order, Holiness,’ said Paolo. ‘And we have means of communicating with one another more speedily than most. That is why Duke Alfonso went to Rodolfo in Fortezza, where they both are at present, so that he could take advantage of that swiftness.’
At the mention of Fortezza, the Pope looked more alert.
‘It has come to a satisfactory end, the siege?’ he said. ‘I have heard something of it.’
‘It has come to the end that the di Chimici family would have wished,’ said Paolo. ‘Princess Lucia has taken her rightful place on the throne of Fortezza. And the Stravaganti were supporting her claim.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But what of my nephew?’
‘He is set on taking a terrible vengeance on all the rebels,’ said Paolo. ‘He has already hanged the rebel General, although the Manoush pretender has been allowed to go into exile. Your other nephew, Prince Gaetano, is escorting him to Romula.’
‘It is not unknown for the victors who have crushed a rebellion to execute its leaders,’ mused the Pope.
‘I know, Your Holiness,’ said Paolo, ‘but – forgive me – Duke Alfonso seemed to think the Grand Duke was motivated by more than wanting to make an example of a few rebels.’
‘So like his father,’ murmured the Pope. ‘You mean he is going to execute Fortezzan citizens in large numbers?’
Paolo nodded. ‘Duke Alfonso thinks Your Holiness is the only person who can prevent a bloodbath.’
‘These are citizens of a di Chimici city-state,’ said the Pope. ‘What does my nephew think old Jacopo would have to say about that?’
‘I believe the Grand Duke is very frustrated by Princess Lucia’s recent decisions,’ said Paolo, as diplomatically as he could.
‘To marry the Bellezzan? I have been told Guido Parola is a decent young man, in spite of his past.’
Paolo was surprised at how well informed the Pope seemed to be.
‘I think the Grand Duke would have preferred her to choose Prince Filippo,’ he said.
‘Huh. That one is a fool,’ said the Pope. ‘I hate to speak ill of a member of my family, but I think Lucia has made a better choice.’
One of his chaplains returned with a tray of wine and a huge plate of pastries.
‘Thank you for your information,’ said the Pope. ‘I shall send a message straight away. Now, please have something to eat. I can particularly recommend the ones with the almonds and cream.’
*
In Fortezza they were relieved to get Paolo’s mirrormessage. There had been three more hangings in the city, and although Princess Lucia was doing everything she could to distract her bloodthirsty cousin, he did not want to spend any time with her.
Rodolfo sent a message to Sulien in Giglia to see if he could persuade the Grand Duchess to call her husband home.
Gaetano may still be there, Rodolfo told the friar. If he is, he will do what he can to help.
As it happened, Gaetano was still in his native city. It was very irregular to house a prisoner in his own palace, but the Prince desperately needed some time at home with his wife. And he had come to believe that Ludo represented no further danger to his family. He was
just a sad, misguided young man.
It might have been different if Gaetano’s brother had been in the city, but he was too far away to supervise the progress of the Manoush into exile.
Brother Sulien was a welcome visitor in the palazzo on the Via Larga and had been missing his daily visits from Princess Francesca. So they were not surprised when he was announced.
‘Ah, Your Highnesses!’ Sulien said as soon as he was admitted into their private salone. ‘Gaetano is back. That is the reason Princess Francesca has been neglecting me.’
‘I’m so sorry, Sulien,’ said Francesca. ‘We should have let you know Gaetano was here. But it is very unofficial.’
‘I am playing truant from my main task, which is to escort this young man to Romula,’ said Gaetano. ‘May I introduce Ludovico Vivoide?’
‘I know your cousins,’ said Sulien, ‘and am always happy to meet a friend of Gaetano’s.’
Both men looked embarrassed.
‘I thank you,’ said Ludo. ‘But I should tell you that I am the Prince’s prisoner.’
‘I see no chains or shackles,’ said Sulien. ‘But that is not my business. I am here with a message from Fortezza.’
Then something clicked in his mind.
‘Oh, I see. You are that Manoush,’ said the friar. ‘And now in exile?’
‘Yes,’ said Ludo. He fell to his knees. ‘I am not of your religion, Brother, but will you please give me your forgiveness? I am truly sorry for the deaths I have caused.’
‘It is about that that I have come,’ said Sulien. ‘I cannot hear your confession now but I can give you a blessing.’ He made the sign of the cross over Ludo, placed both hands on his head and murmured some words in Old Talic.
Then he addressed himself to Gaetano again. ‘Shall I deliver the message?’
‘Is it from Rodolfo? Yes, tell me what he says.’
‘He says that the Grand Duke your brother is wreaking terrible vengeance on the Fortezzan rebels,’ said Sulien.
Ludo remained on his knees, the relief of the friar’s blessing shortlived.
‘General Ciampi was hanged as soon as you left the city and three more rebel leaders since.’