The Master of Verona (90 page)

Pietro leaned forward, exhaustion banished. Cangrande shook his head as if dismissing a fly. But he did not answer.

"Come, brother! Cane Grande, O Great Hound," mocked Katerina. "It is time to reveal yourself. You play regret and humanity well, but on this night of truth please admit you have neither."

Cangrande turned away, shoulders hunched. Pietro heard a voice quite unlike the Scaliger's usual measured tones. "Have I none? I suppose you should know. Yes, let the demons out. It is close enough to midsummer." He stared over the rooftops, head cocked to one side. "Of course I would have killed him. His father, too, even if it meant his great epic was never completed. She is my wife. I would kill a hundred of my dearest friends to protect her reputation."

"Her reputation?" asked Katerina. "Not for love."

"Caesar's wife must be above suspicion."

"But
you
suspected her."

Cangrande laughed. "More than suspected, I knew! I've known for two long years. It was clear that someone had opened doors of my loggia to allow Pathino to escape. Pietro wondered at the time how Pathino got into the square so quickly."

He knew even then? He made me think it was the Grand Butler, the man with the keys and access to Cangrande's seal.
There was also a woman from whose belt dangled all the keys of the household. Cangrande's wife.

Katerina gazed at her brother. "And you say that you sent Pietro away to hunt down the kidnapper."

"Yes."

"There wasn't another reason?"

Cangrande's smile grew. "We really must play more often. This is more fun than I could have dreamed."

"Answer the question."

"It's true. He posed the one question I could not have asked. Having a decent grasp of the obvious, he would have eventually reached the inevitable conclusion. To throw Giovanna off, I laid the blame on the butler." Cangrande clucked his tongue. "Poor Tullio may never forgive me for his ongoing exile. But I have suffered for my folly. One can never truly replace a really competent steward. At least I salted him away where I can recall him, instead of having him killed — which was my original intention."

Pietro was shaking.
Dear God, what is he saying?

"Frederick's descendant is well matched in you," agreed Katerina. "So, some time before the Palio, your wife and the Count reached an understanding. But she had to let you know who it was you were really playing against. Is that why she suborned the oracle?"

"I imagine so. Those were certainly my wife's words the weird woman uttered — or some of them. I remember Giovanna's face during the oration. She seemed genuinely surprised by a few statements. Perhaps the old girl was really divining." Cangrande shrugged as if it was of little consequence to him. "We'll never know. Giovanna's grooms — the same two grooms, by the way, who were so inconsiderate as to die tonight — they took care of her."

"Turning her head back to front, the price she paid for divining. Poetic irony."

"Dante would say
contrapasso
. I recall he'd read that part to the court just the day before."

"As you said, it's a shame the grooms are no longer with us. But then, Caesar's wife…"

"Exactly. No witnesses — another good motto. I was slightly worried the one might wake up before the fire killed him. You see, I didn't realize our war was reaching its zenith tonight."

"And where is your charming wife now? Can Cesco sleep soundly in Detto's room, or will he receive a dagger in the night?"

"At my request she's at Castello Montecchio, counseling the aggrieved Gianozza. She has no idea we suspect anything. No doubt there is a banker's draft somewhere for her grooms, signed by the Count. She is very thorough, and must have covered herself in case of exposure."

"She can't be let live. Not after tonight."

"She is family."

"But not blood."

"Perhaps not. Whatever I decide, it will take some time to arrange." Katerina made a very slight curtsy and Cangrande said, "In the spirit of full disclosure, there is something else you should know. There was a reason Pietro never found out too much about Pathino. There was a spy in Pietro's camp."

Pietro had a terrible sickness in the pit of his stomach.
No, not —

Katerina said, "His groom?"

"None other. The late Fazio. Recommended by my charming, considerate wife. Alaghieri really can be a fool. But then, that's why I like him. He's so trusting."

"So Pathino killed him to—"

"To protect my wife, yes. It was certainly on Bonifacio's orders. Pathino didn't know who the Count's partner was, but the groom did, so he had to go. Then, if Pathino killed the boy and was caught, only the Count would be implicated. If Pathino got away, the child would be gone with him. Either way, Giovanna wins."

"Her motive, of course, was to clear the path for any heir she might have with you. It is a foolish hope. She's too old."

"How old are you, dear?"

Katerina gestured with her good hand at her pregnant belly. "Did I expect this? Or Detto? No. I am blessed by God, but I had given up hope."

"They say some women grow fertile in the presence of children. Perhaps…"

"Don't even say it when you know you don't mean it. Cesco wouldn't survive a week."

"Well, one of them wouldn't. But you're quite right, my wife is too old. At least I am no longer half her age, but a mere score younger, give or take. I was so young when we married, but I think she was lying about her age even then. Still, it is as you say. My aged wife still holds out hope for an heir."

Katerina took in a satisfied breath. "Well, with that out of the way, we may move on. I notice that so far you have refrained from taking the initiative."

"I await my moment to break out of my citadel and drive you back."

"I just didn't want you to think it had gone unremarked." Katerina walked to one side, putting the moon over her shoulder. Thus she could see his face. "We come now to the centerpiece of your board, dear brother. Cesco."

"Ah,
Il Veltro
. The star-crossed child. Again Pietro is able to see the painfully obvious. Two fallen stars, not one. So many possibilities. Is he the Greyhound, is he not? Cesco's future is written, but in a language no one knows. Are we clever enough to read it?"

"Why even try, when you want him dead?"

"I would never raise a hand to hurt him."

"No, of course not," mocked Katerina. "Your family is your weakness. You said it yourself. Our father's so-called curse."

Cangrande took in a short breath. "
Sanguis meus
."

"Precisely. He is blood of your blood. So you play the coward and let others spill it for you. The Count, your wife. As long as the blood is not on your hands."

Cangrande shook his head doggedly. "It isn't that simple, as you're well aware."

"You knew of the threat. You did nothing."

"Untrue. I left him with you."

"Effectively washing your hands."

"Effectively giving him even odds. But that's what I've never understood about you, Kat. If you believe the prophecy, why be concerned? The true Greyhound will survive, regardless of his situation."

"You still doubt that he is who he is?"

"I doubt everything I hear. It's a failing of mine. As for the boy, only time will tell."

"Yet you allowed the attacks to continue."

"Yes. Thanks to Pietro and Tharwat, we learned that it was Vinciguerra's purse behind the plot. Pathino was the missing piece. I didn't want to move until I knew who he was. Little did I realize we would discover a long-lost brother."

"So you let him into my house."

"No," said Cangrande pointedly, "
you
let him into your house. It was your duty to protect the child. You failed. It took Pietro to rescue him."

"I wonder, are you pleased because I failed, or are you enraged because Pietro succeeded?"

The Capitano returned to where his sword lay. Retrieving the honing stone, he leaned against a turret as he again began working the blade's edge. "Neither. Both. Why would the boy's death please me?"

Katerina's lips were tight. "You cannot spill blood of your blood, but you can hardly stand to see him, however well you hide it."

"Any poor skill I have at dissembling I owe to you. But you obviously own the key to my soul, so tell me — why do I detest the child so?"

"Because you are like Pathino. Because you've always hoped, secretly, in your heart of hearts, that the Moor lied. Until Cesco was born, you could cling to the hope that you were the Greyhound."

Cangrande shook his head. "True or false, it means nothing. I do not want him dead."

"I saw your face, lord." Pietro's voice sounded oddly hollow. Legs shaking, he stood and moved out of the shadows. "When you thought he was dead. I saw your face, my lord."

Katerina started. "Pietro? How long—?"

But Cangrande was thoroughly unruffled. "Ah, our judge has arrived. Just in time. My sister brings up an interesting point. She says that, due to jealousy, I hate the boy, loathe the ground under which he burrows, want him as dead as yesterday's fish. But I cannot do the deed myself, or even order it. By her estimation, I wear both green and yellow in equal measure. Fine. I will confess. I confess that, in my weaker moments, I wish to be what I once thought I was. Of course I want to be
Il Veltro
— I was brought up to walk in his shadow! How much do I hate the boy for being what I should have been? There is no measure in human invention —
if
he truly is the Greyhound. On the other hand, he may be another me, and then my compassion is limitless. But Pietro, either way, I do not want him dead. I said this is a night for truth, so I tell you that is the one part of my sister's theory I will utterly refute. Let me say it again. I do not want Cesco dead."

"I saw your face," repeated Pietro.

Cangrande's head bent, he examined the edge of his father's sword. "I see I have much to explain. But first, let us examine Katerina's own feelings for Cesco, and by extension, for me. How much does it rankle her, I wonder, to be told that her only part in the raising of this legendary figure will be as
mother
?" The Scaliger paused, the moon's light on his face. "Mother. The giver of life. That was her role. Not the birth mother, but the true mother. Was that good enough? Not for Katerina." The scorn crept through his voice into the air. "She's a woman. The stars she so reveres gave her that form. You know better than most, Pietro, what it is to be held back due to a physical liability. But your leg is not nearly as damning as her gender. Imagine her frustration! Just as my stars withheld true greatness from me, they denied it to her at birth!"

Katerina said, "All that is irrelevant."

Her brother smiled mirthlessly. "Then pray tell us what is relevant."

"Cesco's future. Even if we are to believe that you don't want him dead, your wife does. Pathino, too — or at least removed from the field of play. He'll probably sell him into slavery or the like. Until they are dealt with, they are each a threat."

"True," agreed the Scaliger.

"Then Cesco cannot stay here."

"I concur."

Katerina showed genuine surprise. "You'd let him go? You'd let me take him off, someplace you cannot reach?"

"Ah-
ah
! Not so fast, my dear. One part of al-Dhaamin's prophecy will come true. Little Cesco will be passed into new hands to thrive. I'll make certain he's well taken care of. But you, my sweet —
you
will have no part of it."

Katerina's chin rose defiantly. "You cannot do that."

"Oh yes I can. And here's why — Pietro, did you ever wonder why Cesco's mother gave him up?"

Pietro recalled a conversation over his sickbed. "Someone was trying to kill him."

"Quite right. But my wife did not then know of his existence, nor did the Count. Nor did I. In fact, there was only one person other than Cesco's mother who knew he'd even been born."

Disbelief raced across Pietro's face. Cangrande winked at him. It had to be a lie. But no, there was no other explanation. A horrible emptiness opening within him, Pietro turned to Katerina, who held his eyes with a steady gaze.

Cangrande laughed. "Yes. To fulfill her part of the prophecy, she wanted —
needed
— Cesco's mother to give him up. Katerina hired the killer to force the lady's hand, and mine. The threat of her child's death sent the poor woman running into Katerina's arms, seeking protection for her son."

Katerina said, "He was in no danger. I knew the prophecy would protect him."

"If he was truly the Greyhound. If not, what better way to find out, eh? One less mouth to feed. Though it was a dangerous game. If he'd died, Katerina would have incurred the wrath of our father's curse. Blood of our blood extends to her. But it did work, and she got to raise the boy. Her dream has come true. Such a shame it has to end."

Ignoring Pietro's horrified stare, Katerina said, "You can't take him in yourself, Francesco. He will only become more of a target."

Cangrande nodded. "Which is why he's going to Ravenna. With Pietro."

That rocked her back on her heels. "To Ravenna? With Pietro?"

"Is there an echo? Yes, my sweet parrot, Ravenna is the answer to all our troubles. An idyllic place, close to the water, and never any trouble. I will sign a document certifying him as my heir if I have no legitimate issue. But hereabouts we will say he died from shock. There was plenty to shock him today, so it will be believed. So tragic. We will bury an empty coffin here — perhaps build a church in his memory. In the meantime, as Ser Alaghieri has proven himself capable of meeting any challenge, and possessed of a rudimentary grasp of subterfuge, he will raise the boy as his own kin. Cesco will live safe in Ravenna surrounded by great minds and decent people. There he'll be safe from everyone — including us."

"Us? Oh!" The lady opened her arms in appeal to the clear skies above. "O, are we to do this once more? I wish you would give me one of your birds, that I could teach it to recite my part. I wounded you, I withheld your destiny, I ruined your life. Do I have it properly memorized?"