The Boy Who Wept Blood (15 page)

26

Length of Service
–
5 Agosto
325

‘And it was here that they attacked you?’ asked Dino. ‘You said about thirty of them?’

‘Yes, my lord.’ The farmer rubbed at his shoulder, the arm in a sling. They were just over three miles away from Santa Maria, a copse of cypress offering shade nearby. The sun had yet to reach its apex.

‘What were you carrying?’

‘Vegetables, some flour, a pair of suckling pigs. They took everything.’ The farmer looked at the cart, now stuck in a ditch at the side of the road. ‘They even took the horse.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ the
capo
sneered. ‘Horses can be recognised; horses can be found.’

‘Difficult to find a horse once it’s been eaten,’ said Dino, chewing his lip.

‘No one eats horse,’ countered the
capo.

Dino yawned and rolled his shoulders. ‘Have you ever been hungry, Guido? I doubt it. People will eat anything when forced to, and if they have more mouths to feed then they’ll take whatever they can, even if it’s still walking around.’

‘It’s obviously bandits,’ said the
capo.
He looked at the farmer and sniffed. ‘I dare say this damn fool is in on it, splitting the proceeds.’

The farmer’s face darkened. He was a heavyset man, stripped to the waist and olive brown. There was a hardness to him. Dino doubted few if any called him liar to his face, among the
cittadini
at least. The dozen guards that lined the road looked away or inspected their boots, each one sweating beneath a tabard of scarlet and black. Speranza, who had escorted them for no reason Dino could discern, stood to one side holding the reins of the horses.

‘Bandits?’ Dino smiled. ‘Split the proceeds? You really are out of touch. When was the last time you had to buy anything, Guido? This man could earn more than half of your so-called proceeds at market.’

‘Less than half actually, my lord,’ said the farmer, ‘after taxes and feed for the horses.’

‘He doesn’t deny it,’ crowed the
capo.

‘And I suppose the fractured arm is part of this elaborate ruse?’ The Orfano glowered, causing the guards along the road to stiffen.

‘I wouldn’t put anything past—’

‘Stop flapping your fucking mouth, Guido.’

The
capo
stared back, face flushed purple. The farmer busied himself inspecting the ruin of his wagon while Speranza produced a brush from a saddlebag and attended to her steed.

‘You would do well to remember who you are talking to,’ said Guido, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper.

‘I know exactly who I’m talking to.’ Dino took a step closer. ‘Some popinjay, suckling on the tit of a sinecure. How can you have survived with so feeble a brain?’

‘You talk to me of sinecures?’ Guido was was just an arm’s length away, lips peeled back from his teeth. ‘It wasn’t my sister that made me
maestro superiore di spada
,’ he seethed. ‘That role was meant to be mine!’

Dino stepped closer, almost nose-to-nose.

‘Perhaps it escaped your attention, but Anea doesn’t promote people for length of service; she promotes them for ability. Your conduct during the Verde Guerra put paid to any hopes you had of advancement. You should be grateful you’re still
capo
.’

‘Grateful?’

‘The only reason you’ve come this far is because Duke Fontein paved your way as a favour to Duchess Prospero.’

‘That’s simply not true!’ Guido di Fontein took a step back, a look of injury in his eyes before he recovered and regained his anger.

You’re a member of the guard,’ said Dino. ‘I suggest you start acting like one.’

‘This man is swindling us.’ The
capo
raised an accusing finger at the farmer, keen to change the focus of the dispute.

Dino took a step back, drew in a breath and released a long sigh. ‘You’re dismissed, Guido. Go away.’

For a second there was only silence. The
capo
stared, incredulous, staggered at the slight.

‘You’ll look back on this day and regret crossing me, Lord Erudito. I won’t be the
capo
for ever.’

‘Fancy your chances as the next Duke of Fontein, do you?’ Dino allowed himself a smile; only Guido would be idiot enough to show his hand so early. The
capo
swallowed, eyes darting toward the guards standing nearby, aware he’d said too much. Again.

‘Think you can claim that title without a struggle, do you?’ Dino smiled with malice. The
capo
spluttered a moment, shut his mouth, then turned on his heel. He mounted his steed and mumbled something to Speranza before setting off at a gallop. Dino watched him go, not taking his eyes from the man for a moment. ‘
Figlio di puttana.
’

The nearest guard failed to keep the smile from his face.

‘There goes your new duke,’ said Dino, unable to resist the dig.

‘Santa Maria save us,’ replied the guard. Dino shook his head and approached the farmer.

‘I suppose these bandits were clad in grey rags, hooded, bearing rusty weapons and wooden clubs?’

The farmer nodded, brow furrowed.

‘They were led by a man wearing a veil, carrying his sword like this?’ Dino drew his sword and held it in a reverse grip so the blade pointed back toward his elbow.

‘How did you know, my lord?’

‘You don’t have to address me like that. The half-wit has gone. What’s your name?’

‘Bruno.’ The farmer stood a little taller, smiled, still clutching at his wounded arm.

‘Make a note of how much you lost, tell Speranza when you get back to Demesne. I’ll see to it that you’re reimbursed.’ He took a step closer to the farmer. ‘Tell no one about this, understand? It’s our little secret. If word gets out I’ve become soft-hearted I’m as good as finished, you know?’

Bruno nodded. ‘Most kind, my lord.’

Dino smiled. ‘We’ve got a team of horses on the way to pull the wagon out. We can have it repaired – not everyone in House Prospero loathes me.’ Bruno offered his good hand.

Dino shook it. ‘You have honoured me, my lord.’

‘And you’ve forgotten my name again.’

‘My apologies.’ Bruno nodded, then winced on account of his arm. Dino flicked out a salute and made his way to his horse.

Speranza carefully avoided looking at him but struggled to keep the smile from her lips. ‘Will you escort me back to Demesne?’

‘Of course.’ They mounted and wheeled their horses toward home. Dino shouted back over his shoulder, ‘Sergente! You and your men are to guard Signore Bruno until the horses arrive. Then escort him back to Demesne. Understood?’

The
sergente
nodded, saluted and smiled.

‘I’ll see you in the Contadino courtyard later, Bruno.’

The farmer waved as the Orfano and messenger set their heels to their horses’ flanks, surging along the road to Demesne.

‘Much more of this and people will think Lord Erudito has regained his good humour.’ Speranza and Dino were halfway back and it was close to midday. Dino decided he would have a bath on returning. Dust clung to him where it met the sweat of his body. Summer continued to fall like a golden hammer.

‘Goading Guido is the only sport I get these days. I might as well enjoy it.’

‘That was a good thing you did for Signore Bruno.’

‘After all the things Demesne has subjected the people to … Well, it’s the least I can do.’

‘The guilt of the king isn’t yours to bear, my lord.’

‘Do you know, I’ve changed my mind,’ Dino said after a pause.

‘How so, my lord?’

‘I’m not going to ask Anea to make me a duke; I’m going to ask her to strip me of a title altogether. Then you’ll have to call me Dino.’

‘You’re an Orfano, you’re entitled by birth. You can’t forget who you are or where you come from.’

‘I’m not asking to forget, only that you do once in a while.’

‘It’s not easy,’ she admitted with a smile. ‘When you’ve had as many etiquette lessons as I have, certain things become ingrained.’

‘There’s plenty of ingrained things in Demesne that I’d change in a heartbeat.’ He grinned at her. ‘Come on, let’s get back in time for lunch.’

They put their heels to their horses and thundered along the road in a cacophony of hooves.

The
passeggiata
was a custom that had emerged since the king’s passing. The youths of the houses, major and minor, would congregate in one of the four courtyards to share wine and wander in an aimless circle, strutting, preening, each step a casual declaration of braggadocio. In time the promenade had spread to the piazzas outside Demesne’s walls. Its popularity was not limited to those in their teens: people could be found walking and chatting until after midnight. Small deals were conducted, kisses stolen, gossip exchanged. Most were keen for the company, others keener still to attract potential suitors. The summer nights were the perfect backdrop for the sultry, often raucous promenade.

‘It’s a rare night that the mighty Dino Adolfo Erudito graces us with his presence at the
passeggiata
,’ said Massimo with a teasing smile. ‘Do the wonders of Demesne bore you, my lord?’

They were sitting around the improvised table in the corner of the Contadino courtyard, a wheel of a wagon long since gone to firewood. Massimo and Bruno had struck up an unlikely friendship and had been drinking before Dino had arrived. The swordsman had bought a
caraffa
of wine and made free with it. Dino wasn’t sure what the wine was, didn’t care for it much, truth be told, but he’d no wish to spend the night locked in his rooms with only Achilles for company. And it was hard to resist Massimo’s company, despite the surge of shame he felt when in the man’s company.

‘Won’t you join us, Camelia?’ The Orfano raised a mug to the cook with a wry smile.

She raised her eyebrows in response. ‘I’ve a husband to get back to and a child that’s not seen me since dawn. Enjoy your wine, gentlemen.’ She curtsied and left.

‘As fine a woman that ever walked,’ rumbled Bruno.

‘The tallest woman that ever walked might be a better description.’ Massimo grinned, drinking more of the nameless wine. ‘Are you on the lookout for a woman, Bruno?’

‘Not me no. Married, with a grown son I’m very proud of and a daughter I’d do anything for. And she knows it, unfortunately. And you, my lord?’

‘No.’ Massimo forced a smile. ‘Not yet anyway.’ The words were strained and the mirth behind them rang hollow.

‘I’d take this whole place apart if anything happened to her,’ said Dino, watching Camelia leave the courtyard. ‘She’s the closest thing I have to family, after Lucien and Anea.’

‘No need to gain the wolf tonight, Dino,’ replied Massimo. ‘Take a few hours’ rest from that ill temper you’re so taken with. Speranza told me you cracked a smile today. I’d not thought the girl dishonest. Was she?’

‘Speranza is ever trustworthy,’ said Dino, standing, allowing himself a smile as he stretched. ‘Even if she is employed by that dreadful Fontein crone.’

‘I’m sure someone with your unique title could arrange to have a girl like that added to your staff.’ The corners of Massimo’s mouth curved up. ‘I dare say she could be useful in any
number
of ways.’

‘I don’t want staff. Fiorenza is more than adequate—’

Bruno and Massimo burst out laughing.

‘I didn’t mean like that.’ Dino came close to blushing.

‘What in nine hells
did
you mean?’ asked Bruno.

Dino cleared his throat and grasped for something to say, but his mind only conjured what he’d seen in Cherubini’s chamber. ‘I think I’ve had a little too much sun and much too much wine. I’ll leave you gentlemen to finish the bottle.’

Dino turned and headed toward the nearest door before Massimo could protest. The sounds of laughter and companionship rang loud in his ears, making the quiet of his apartment stifling by comparison.

27

Casualties
–
7 Agosto
325

Dino was waiting on the balcony for her just after sunrise.

‘Did my front door stop working?’ said Stephania.

The Orfano smiled. ‘Not at all; yours is the most functional door in all of Demesne. It was just quicker for me to come over the rooftops.’

‘And you didn’t want to be seen.’

The Orfano nodded. Stephania wore a high-necked nightgown of grey silk. Intricate embroidery decorated the neck, cap sleeves and hem, where pale naked feet emerged. The fabric looked like steel, conspiring to make her look older.

‘You heard about the farmer? Robbed on the road to Demesne?’

Stephania nodded, hair spilling from the hasty ponytail she’d tied. ‘More of your men in grey?’

‘Massimo thinks they live beneath Santa Maria or Demesne itself.’

‘So why not seek them out?’ Stephania stepped out onto the balcony, resting her hands on the parapet.

‘There are so many tunnels down there.’ Dino turned and followed her gaze to the streets below. ‘You could dispatch a detachment of men, lose half of them, and still not find anything worth looking for, you know?’

‘At least tell me you tried,’ pressed Stephania, frowning.

‘Margravio Contadino sent a few men last night. They came back empty-handed, eventually.’

Stephania said nothing. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, a wrinkle of irritation at her brow.

‘Are you unwell? You seem on edge, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘I’m fine.’ She sighed. ‘I know why you’re here. I can’t locate Erebus. It’s possible he’s only using House Fontein messengers, where I have least influence.’

‘I thought they were closed to you. You have someone inside now?’

‘You should know, Dino; she spends enough time attending on you.’

‘Speranza?’

Stephania nodded and turned her face toward the Di Toro estate in the distance. Dino regarded the woman and glanced at the apartment doors.

‘Am I keeping you from someone?’

‘What?’ She crossed her arms.

‘I mean, do you have company?’ he whispered, gesturing toward the apartment.

‘Who would call at this time of morning? Ah.’ She smiled. ‘You mean do I have a guest from last night?’

Dino swallowed. Stephania shook her head and sighed.

‘Is that why you think I’m being short with you?’

‘I’m struggling to think of another reason.’

‘You really don’t know anything about women, do you?’

‘A little more than I know about Erebus.’

‘I’ll keep trying, but I think the Domina has found another way to receive her letters. Come and see me in a few days.’

‘Thank you.’

Dino sprang onto the parapet and climbed the wall, reaching the top of Demesne with ease. He turned and looked down at the woman in grey silk, the tips of his boots hanging over the lip of the roof.

‘Is there anything I can do for you, Stephania? Do you need anything?’

For a second Dino thought she might reply; instead Stephania Prospero shook her head, retreating to her apartment and her thoughts.

Dino spent the morning in the Fontein courtyard teaching novices, who were far more dangerous than they realised. Some had progressed to metal blades, but the sharpest weapon on display was D’arzenta’s commentary. Dino avoided the
maestro
where he could and excused himself early when he couldn’t. The Orfano hurried through Demesne to reach House Contadino on the far side, not pausing to greet acquaintances or engage in idle chat. Massimo and Bruno were waiting for him beside the latter’s wagon, now repaired. A handsome silver-black mare had been tethered to the wagon, paid for with Dino’s coin.

‘Bruno was just telling me you let him sleep in your old apartment.’ Massimo clapped a hand about the Orfano’s shoulder, favouring him with a broad grin. ‘I had no idea you were a hotelier.’

‘Try not to tell everyone,’ Dino said in a stage whisper. ‘It’s a very exclusive establishment. I’m trying to keep the hoi polloi out.’

‘My lord, you’ve been most generous.’ Bruno bowed, his arm strapped up in a new sling. Dino had provided the man with good food, a barber and a change of clothes. ‘If there is anything I can ever do for you …’

‘Only one thing,’ said Dino. ‘If you hear anyone say the Orfani don’t care for the lives of the
cittadini
please tell them otherwise. I know we’re not well liked on the estates, but my sister and I are not the fearsome
streghe
of late-night tales.’

‘I think people would much less afraid if they knew you for true.’

‘Where are you heading?’ asked Massimo.

‘House Di Toro, back to my family.’

‘Safe journey then, Bruno.’

Screams erupted outside the gates as the swordsman shook the farmer’s hand.

‘Twice in three days.’ Dino drew steel, feeling the familiar calm descend on him even as his heart kicked in his chest. ‘Our new friends are clearly audacious.’

‘New friends?’ Massimo flicked a concerned glance back and forth between the gates of the Contadino courtyard and Dino, who was already advancing toward the source of the furor.

The two guards on the gate were quickly overwhelmed, outnumbered three to one. The courtyard, home to the many granaries of House Contadino, descended into chaos as
cittadini
charged in all directions. Dino ran forward, feinting with a low strike before opening his opponent’s shoulder. The grey rags parted just as the flesh beneath was split in a streak of crimson.

‘
Vai al diavolo
,’ whispered the grey man. Dino replied with steel, silencing him for ever. Another of the raiders dodged to one side, entering the courtyard unchecked. Dino prepared to give pursuit only to find himself engaged by another, this one swinging a club.

You said about thirty of them?

Yes, my lord.

Bruno’s answer from two days past.

Dino parried a strike from the club but failed to notice a matching weapon in the other hand. It smacked into his left shoulder, knocking him back a step. Massimo was holding two raiders at bay with a series of slashes almost too fast to follow. Dino’s attacker pressed in again, but found his first club caught in the Orfano’s open hand. The second followed but the hand holding it was neatly severed. The man cried out, staring at the stump of his ruined arm, eyes frozen with feverish disbelief. Dino finished him with a thrust and a grunt, wiping his blade on the rags.

‘Shut the gates!’ he bellowed. ‘Someone shut the gates!’

Massimo dispatched one opponent, only for another to take his place before the swordsman had recovered himself. Dino dashed into the melee, mashing the pommel of his sword into the back of one head, then slashed down with an overhead strike. White shards of ribs were clear to see as he opened the grey raider from shoulder to hip. The doors to the courtyard began to close, but more raiders piled in, fetid ashen shadows bearing the halberds of slain guards. The grey men sprinted past the swordsmen, intent on the spoils of the Contadino stores.

‘Where are the guards?’ complained Dino, knocking aside a rusty blade.

The gates were almost closed when one more of the raiders broke through. Dino frowned. It was the veiled man from the forest. He took a moment to kill a fleeing page boy, then turned his dark gaze toward the Orfano. They closed at speed. Dino found his opening strike blocked by a dagger. He jumped to one side, lost his footing and rolled, all to avoid having his guts split open by the short sword held in a reversed grip. He’d barely regained his feet when the veiled man was on him. And then gone. Vaulting up into the air to land behind him. Dino dropped to one knee, turning his blade and thrusting back with both hands. There was a rip of fabric and a grunt. The veiled raider fell back. Dino rolled forward and onto his feet, batting aside a strike from another attacker. Three slashes later and the ragged man was lying in the dirt, blood dripping from deeps cuts that no amount of sewing would ever heal.

A sting across Dino’s shoulder produced a wordless cry. He staggered and spun, blocked the next strike, and the next, and the next. The clash of steel sounded loudly over Dino’s laboured breath. The veiled attacker pressed in, so close Dino could smell him. The short sword whipped about in a figure of eight, the style unusual and hard to predict, the dagger waiting in the left hand ready to parry any riposte.

‘Into the teeth of the wolf,’ snarled Dino. He stepped forward and mashed his forehead into the veiled man’s face, catching him in the mouth. The veiled man clutched at his face, eyes clamped shut with agony. Dino didn’t waste the moment of reprieve, taking his blade in both hands and drawing back for a killing strike. A jolt of pain from his wounded shoulder slowed his attack. The veiled raider threw himself forward, throwing his weight behind the parry, catching Dino’s blade on the flat of his dagger.

‘
Porca miserisa
,’ grunted Dino, before the veiled man replied with a slash. Dino ducked under it. Almost.

Had he been standing further away the blade would have split his skull, instead the damage came from the crosspiece, which caught him near the temple and sent him sprawling. The world rocked, the sky blazed white. There was dust in his mouth, in his eyes. Dino rolled onto his back, veiled attacker looming over him, strike already falling, sunlight reflecting from the blade. Massimo barged into the raider, grabbing him around the waist.

‘Massimo!’ Dino pushed himself to his feet, head swimming with the nausea of concussion. His feet were a leaden jumble, the ground not where he’d expected it.

‘Come on,’ shouted Massimo, standing before him, face pale.

‘Where did he go?’

‘I don’t know. And I don’t care much either. We’re leaving.’

The veiled attacker had melted into the chaos, leaving only blood and shock in his wake.

Dino recognised the
dottore
from the Verde Guerra but couldn’t remember his name. The specifics failed to interest him as the needle pulled his flesh together. The cut crossed much of his left shoulder blade. It wasn’t the first time he’d been wounded, but the stitching combined with concussion left him quiet and tremulous. Achilles climbed atop the bookcase, his usual redoubt when strangers entered the apartment. Fiorenza hovered nearby, boiling fresh water at the fireplace. She flashed concerned looks at the wounded Orfano and wrung her hands. Dino looked up at the mantelpiece, where the duke’s stiletto lay. The gold engraving gleamed as blood dripped down his back.

‘There’s someone at the door, my lord,’ said Fiorenza.

‘Send them in. I’m not going anywhere for a while.’

Speranza entered, eyes red-rimmed, face pinched. She said nothing and saluted.

‘
Porcia miseria.
It must be bad if you’re being that formal.’ He turned to Fiorenza. ‘Can I have some wine? If I’m going to have bad news then I’d really rather—’

‘Dino.’ The voice that emerged from Speranza silenced him. Dino swallowed, chest suddenly tight. The image of Camelia bidding them farewell flashed across his mind.

‘I’m done, my lord,’ said the
dottore
. ‘Get some rest. A week at the minimum.’ The man stood and packed his things, departing without fuss. Dino stared after him, desperate not to hear Speranza’s news.

‘My lord, there were casualties.’

‘Funny word for it, don’t you think?’ He forced a smile, but it withered on his lips. ‘Nothing casual about dying.’ He attempted to stand but the room lurched and shifted at the edges of his vision, threatening darkness. He slumped back onto the couch.

‘Who died, Speranza?’

‘Many guards, but I thought you should know, Signore Bruno was killed. He held two attackers at bay as Massimo brought you inside.’

The silence in the apartment was suffocating.

‘He died to protect me,’ whispered the Orfano. ‘And Massimo?’

‘Wounded. He should survive.’

Dino pressed a hand to his brow and tried to swallow. A terrible emptiness yawned inside. And not breath, or wine or warmth would fill it for days to come.