The Boy Who Wept Blood (22 page)

‘I’ll come with—’

‘No, you won’t.’ Virmyre stood in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. ‘You’re going to see Nardo and take him out for a meal at the
taverna
. It would do the pair of you good to come to turns with what’s happened. You need to get out of this awful apartment – get away from these hateful old stones.’

Dino nodded and wondered where he’d left his sword. It mattered not. The world outside was daunting in a way no steel could reassure him against.

40

Rumours
–
25 Agosto
325

‘I’m just saying you need to be careful. People are asking a lot of questions following what happened in the rose garden.’ Nardo directed his gaze into the wine glass. His face was deeply lined, dark circles accentuated by its paleness. He’d barely laid eyes on Dino for the hour they’d sat together.

‘I lost my best friend,’ the Orfano all but snarled.

‘I know that.’ Nardo looked up at him a moment but couldn’t sustain it, his eyes returning to the dregs of the red wine. ‘It’s just … you two were very close, and that sets people to talking. Especially with all that business with Cherubini and all.’

They were sitting at the usual table outside the
taverna
. A circle had cleared around them. A corona of privacy. Or revulsion. The innkeeper’s hospitality was strained – he appeared only when summoned. Dino didn’t care for the look in the man’s eyes or the abrupt manner of the service.

‘The
maestro
should never have been sent away,’ said Dino.

‘Huh. The
maestro
should have kept his house in order,’ countered the messenger.

‘And that’s what I’ve to do is it? Keep my house in order?’

‘Hell, Dino. It was a figure of speech.’

The walk from Dino’s apartment in House Erudito had not been a pleasant one. The staff he encountered looked at the Orfano with surprise that quickly darkened to mistrust. His reception at House Contadino was no better. Camelia was absent, denying him even the comfort of a friendly face. The kitchen staff’s whispers were audible the moment he turned his back. This was the punishment Cherubini had endured, the loss of face in a thousand painful increments.

‘New sword?’ said the messenger. The Orfano nodded and laid the weapon across the table in front of him. The pommel was a snub-nosed drake cast in silver. The hilt was snug with soft leather dyed turquoise.

‘Virmyre commissioned it while I was …’ He gestured toward his apartment.

‘Drunk.’

‘Recovering.’ There was a note of warning in his voice. ‘I’ve called it Achilles.’

‘Give you a good deal, did they?’ Nardo regarded the black-enamelled scabbard.

‘You think anyone in House Fontein is going to give me a good anything?’

‘Huh.’

‘So what
are
people saying?’ Dino could barely bring himself to ask the question, syllables tripping over his lips, a reluctant mumble.

‘Everyone saw, Dino. Those that weren’t standing in the doorways were hanging from the windows. They saw him die in your arms. They saw how upset you were. What do you suppose they’re saying?’

‘He was my friend.’

‘Huh. Not my business who you’re friends with, but people are idle. Most of them are just waiting for some intrigue to gossip about.’ The messenger produced his pipe, turning the stem over and over. He made no move to smoke; only occupy his restless hands.

‘It’s no secret there are men in Demesne who remained unmarried,’ said Dino. He looked away to the piazza, sullen. ‘Some are too ugly, some too sour.’ He took a sip of wine to fortify himself for what he would say next. ‘And the rest maintain the fiction they’ve yet to meet the right woman.’

‘Huh. In Demesne? Certainly. But out on the estates? Such men are beaten, they’re disowned; some are forced to move on, others never get a job worth their talents.’ The messenger glanced at a passing serving girl. His eyes shifted to Dino, who flashed a look at her.

‘She’s very attractive,’ said the Orfano without inflection.

‘And you’re a terrible liar.’

Sounds from the piazza filled the silence between the two men. Catcalls and insults, laughter and feigned outrage, a few stubborn market traders bellowing their wares.

‘They’ll find something else to speak of this time next week,’ said Dino, gaze directed at the rough wood of the table dividing them.

‘No, they won’t. This is going to stick to you like pitch. And it won’t be over in a week, or even two weeks.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Some of the
sergenti
have called for your resignation as
superiore
.’ The messenger looked up from the pipe, which rested between his fingers, his face hard, eyes the same. Dino took a slow breath of the warm night air, then sipped his wine.

‘They wouldn’t dare,’ he replied, words lacking conviction.

‘They’re saying it’s because you never teach, but that’s horse shit. They want you out because of this business with Massimo.’

‘There was never any
business
with Massimo.’

‘I believe you. I do. But people love to talk.’

‘What happens with House Contadino now?’ asked Dino to sidestep the impasse.

‘Huh.’ Nardo shrugged. ‘Medea is expected to rule until Luc is old enough.’ The messenger’s face twisted into a grimace. ‘Hell of a thing for a boy to lose his father like that.’

‘We didn’t lose Emilio; he was taken from us, just as Massimo was taken from us.’

‘And Marcell and Abramo.’

‘Yes, those too.’ Dino remembered Abramo, so confident, so loyal.

‘I should have been there, not tending to the horses at the side of the road.’

‘It wouldn’t have made a difference.’

A familiar leaden feeling filled his chest, the bitter tang of regret at the back of his throat. The only sound he could hear was the thundering of hooves, the only sensation Massimo’s arms about his waist. And there was the smell of blood; it clung to him like the fading tendrils of a nightmare. Now the hushed crunch of footsteps on gravel, Massimo’s boots dragging. Sounds of sobbing.

The messenger stood and cleared his throat, ushering Dino back to the present.

‘I should get back. Maria will need help getting the children to bed.’ Nardo frowned and looked away. ‘Isabella isn’t sleeping.’

‘She’s not the only one.’ Dino blinked, and when his eyes closed he saw only Massimo, laid out among the roses of the Contadino gardens.

‘You coming?’

‘I think I’ll stay here for a while longer,’ said the Orfano, indicating the unfinished wine. ‘I’m not sure those walls will make me feel any safer tonight.’

Nardo nodded and turned on his heel, disappearing among the crowds of Santa Maria. The
cittadini
were determined to have a good time despite the unfolding disasters of recent months. Perhaps in spite of the disasters. The mood was almost hysterical, heightened but hollow. Dino kept drinking, hand never far from the drake-headed sword.

‘And that sets people to talking.’ Dino slurred his imitation of Nardo’s words and rapped his knuckles on the door of the Allattamento apartment. His other hand was occupied with a bottle, a now familiar accomplice.

‘Virmyre will kill me when he discovers I’m drunk again.’ He shook his head and tried to focus on the door. ‘Still, better him than these other fuckers. At least he’d make it quick.’ Dino’s mumbling filled the corridor, which was empty save for two brave mice and a long-case clock, its rich mahogany almost invisible in the darkness, polished brass reflecting the candlelight. The pendulum moved with a velvet grace. The Orfano knocked again, louder this time.

‘How long does a man have to wait to get—’ The door opened, revealing a worried face, one hand clutching a shawl at her throat, nightdress reaching her ankles.

‘I was expecting a bit more flesh on display.’ Dino grunted a laugh and stumbled forward. The woman placed one hand against his chest, gentle yet firm, stalling his progress. There was something familiar about those deep brown eyes, an indignation to them.

‘What do you want?’ He didn’t know her name. Doesn’t matter; probably better like that, he thought.

‘What do you think I’m here for? This is House Allattamento, isn’t it?’

She ushered him in, gesturing to a couch.

41

Nobility, Vendetta and Revenge
–
25 Agosto
325

He’d imagined House Allattamento differently, the women attired in silk, feeding grapes and goblets of wine to older, moneyed men. He’d imagined the cries of lovemaking coming from the bedrooms as men took their pleasure. Instead the room was devoid of all decoration save the furniture. The girl was quite alone.

‘Why are you here, my lord?’ There was something familiar about the girl, but Dino struggled to place her.

‘Where is everyone?’

‘Lady Allattamento has taken her daughters to the countryside. She thinks it safer there and I agree with her. I’m to join them tomorrow.’

‘But …’ Dino let this sink in. He suddenly wished he were sober. ‘I thought they sold themselves? How …?’

The girl gave a derisive snort and shook her head.

‘What?’

‘That rumour came about purely because Duke Fontein visited so often. He and Lady Allattamento were lovers. For a time. Her daughters are far from chaste but they’re not whores. Surely you of all people know the power of rumour?’

Dino blinked. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘We brought girls in off the street to cater to the more … insistent callers. Do you really think Lady Allattamento would sell her own daughters to every
sergente
and
nobile
with coin to spare?’

‘And what about you?’

‘Is that what you’re here for?’ Full lips smiling without humour. ‘To lie with a woman?’

Dino felt his cheeks blaze scarlet. He managed a stiff nod.

‘I thought you preferred the company of fighting men. So brave, so masculine.’ Dino felt the sting of her taunt through the haze of his drunkenness. ‘So loyal,’ she continued. ‘And yet here you are.’

He set down the bottle. Still he said nothing.

‘Lord Dino Erudito, finally wanting to sample the pleasures of the fairer sex.’ She brushed the sides of her breasts with her palms, the nightdress stretching over her curves. He didn’t care for her sneering tone nor the cruel curl of her lip. The room spun as he pushed himself to his feet, his focus wavering. She looked up from her seat on the couch, defiant.

‘And you think I’m the woman to give you an education?’

‘What’s your name?’ he grunted, keen to say something – anything. Wasn’t she supposed to cater to his every need? Instead every word was a challenge.

‘Giolla di Leona.’ She stood up and laid one hand against his chest. ‘And I’m not a whore either.’

‘Fuck me,’ he breathed. Not an exclamation but a command.

‘Sit.’ He obeyed, wine-leaden limbs pulling him down into the softness of the couch, scabbard angling awkwardly, the drake-headed hilt staring back in disgust.

Giolla stood over him, easing the shawl from her shoulders, not taking her eyes from him. The fabric fell to the floor, gathered about her naked feet. Her smile remained mocking, eyes intent on his own, ready to observe the direction of his gaze. Then the nightdress, fingers working at the buttons, struggling out of it, pushing it past her ripe breasts and down to her waist.

‘I’ll bet everything I own that my nakedness does nothing for you,
my lord
.’ These last two words were caustic and sour. The nightdress joined the shawl on the floor, revealing lithe legs and the tangle of her sex, the soft sweep of her stomach.

‘Oh no,’ moaned Dino and pressed one hand to his forehead.

‘Let me guess. Too drunk, my lord? Or are you finally going to admit your true nature?’

Dino shook his head. ‘You’re the girl from the painting.’

Giolla stiffened, eyes widening, then she snatched up her nightdress, hurrying back into it.

‘What did you just say?’

‘You. That’s where I’ve seen you before. You’re the girl in the painting.’

‘How do you know about the painting?’

‘Because I’ve seen the fucking thing.’ He glowered at her. ‘It looked a bit rushed, but it’s absolutely you. No question about that.’

Giolla’s face became ashen. She gathered her shawl and busied herself with it before turning to him. ‘So it was you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Dino shifted on the couch, pulling at his shirt. She said nothing, eyes accusatory, frown deepening, mouth a taut line. ‘What do you mean, “it was you”?’ he pressed.

‘Duke Fontein never let anyone into his chamber. He came here when he lay with Lady Allattamento. Even Duchess Fontein never visited his chamber. It was sacrosanct to him.’

‘What are you talking about?’ But Dino knew it was too late.

‘Only four people know of the existence of that painting – myself, the duke, his maid and the painter, Delfino Datini.’

Dino struggled to breathe. ‘I saw it after he died.’

‘No, you didn’t. Because I had the maid bring it to me.’

‘I …’ The words died on his lips. He was too drunk to lie, sick with deceit, too tired to maintain the pretence.

‘You poisoned him. Didn’t you?’

Dino said nothing, shame a boulder on his chest, crushing the air from his lungs. He had left the duke’s stiletto on the mantelpiece as a marker of his guilt. He’d wanted to be found out, wanted blame and reprisal to absolve him. He’d staggered to House Allattamento to prove himself a man, finding only an assassin instead. And a drunk one at that.

‘I’d have done the same,’ Giolla said. ‘He planned to kill both you and your sister.’

‘You knew?’ whispered Dino, incredulous.

‘Of course. I knew him well. We were very close at the end.’

‘Were you lovers?’

Another cruel smile, another dismissive snort. Dino wondered if she’d ever experienced happiness. The taint of cynicism lingered on her every word and expression.

‘Duke Fontein was my father.’

Dino pressed his eyes shut and cursed himself for a fool. He pressed one fist to his mouth, unsure what words would spill from his lips next.

‘I suppose you’ll want revenge for what I did?’ He was aware of the knife hidden in his right boot, the sword sleeping in the scabbard, but he’d never killed a woman before. He had no wish to start tonight.

‘Revenge.’ The word was laced with futility. Giolla sat down, a sad smile crossing her face. ‘He sent my mother away to House Marco. We weren’t poor, but it was a far cry from life in Demesne. I had no idea who he was at first – just a stranger on a horse come to visit, and even then rarely. My mother adored him, of course.’ Giolla sighed. ‘And I despised her for it.’

‘How did you come to live in House Allattamento?’

‘My mother died when I was thirteen and the duke took me into the staff. I’d never been so lonely –’ she crossed her arms ‘– even surrounded by all the people in the castle. I was too common to be taken seriously, no good for anything but cooking and cleaning. But the duke paid for my tuition with House Erudito. Lady Allattamento taught me etiquette.’

‘When did you find out?’ Dino knew the pain of uncertainty all too well. ‘About your father, I mean?’

‘Four years ago. He told me one night – late, drunk, as you are now. Imagine, a poor girl from the countryside discovering her father is one of the most powerful men in Demesne. He promised me the world, of course, on condition Duchess Fontein never discovered my identity. He always thought he’d outlive her.’

‘Small chance of that. She’s like a gorse bush without the personality.’ This at least made Fontein’s daughter smile. Her shoulders were bowed, as if her confession weighed on her.

‘I’ll not tell a soul,’ offered Dino, wanting to make some small amends.

‘It’s no matter. I’m leaving tomorrow, and that will conclude the whole tawdry business.’ She shrugged and pouted. ‘House Fontein will die out and there’ll be few if any to mourn it.’

‘We’re still left with the fact that I killed your father.’ He sat forward, lacing his fingers. ‘Revenge is a staple of the
nobili
, vendetta their daily bread.’

‘True enough.’ She shrugged. ‘But what can I do to you that’s not been done already?’

The Orfano shook his head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re all but abandoned by your sister, and the Domina is perhaps the least trustworthy person in Demesne right now.’

He nodded, desolation mounting in his chest.

‘Your best friend has just been killed, if indeed you were only friends.’ She should have gloated over that but instead only managed to look sad. ‘The
maestro
has been exiled, Margravio Contadino killed, his wife on the edge of madness.’ She drew a bleak picture, and he could refute none of it. ‘And me? I’m just the bastard of a dead man who plotted against the throne. What do I care who lives or who dies? You call this nobility?’ Now she was sneering. ‘I call it a sham. There are
cittadini
in the fields who behave with more dignity and compassion than any bloodline of Demesne.’

She stood, the truth of her words sharper than any blade, cutting him deep.

‘Take your nobility, take your vendetta, take your revenge. I want none of it. You want to be absolved? Forget me, forget everything you know about me. Let me disappear into the countryside tomorrow. Let me live out my days in peace.’

Dino pushed himself to his feet, painfully sober, words foreign to him, silence his only friend.

‘And you.’ She looked at him with eyes full of pity. ‘You can stay here and suffer the consequences. That’s your punishment, my lord. As if losing Massimo wasn’t punishment enough.’ She went to her chamber and locked the door, leaving him wondering what new tragedies would be ushered in with the dawn. And if he would survive them.