The Magicians of Caprona (8 page)

Aunt Gina put her hands on her hips and bawled back at him. “And I need steak! Don’t you stand up there cheeking me, Rinaldo Montana! English people always eat steak, so steak I must have!”

“Then cut pieces off the cats!” screamed Rinaldo. “I need Corinna and Lucia up here!”

“I tell you they are going to run after
me
for once!” yelled Aunt Gina.

“Dear me,” said Chrestomanci, wandering into the yard. “What a very Italian scene! Can I help in any way?” He nodded and smiled from Aunt Gina to Rinaldo. Both of them smiled back, Rinaldo at his most charming.

“You would agree I need copiers, sir, wouldn’t you?” he said.

“Bah!” said Aunt Gina. “Rinaldo turns on the charm and I get left to struggle alone! As usual! All right. Because it’s war-spells, Paolo and Tonino can go for the steak. But wait while I write you a note, or you’ll come back with something no one can chew.”

“So glad to be of service,” Chrestomanci murmured, and turned away to greet Elizabeth, who came racing down from the gallery waving a sheaf of music and fell into his arms. The heads of the five little cousins Elizabeth had been teaching stared wonderingly over the gallery rail. “Elizabeth!” said Chrestomanci. “Looking younger than ever!” Tonino stared as wonderingly as his cousins. His mother was laughing and crying at once. He could not follow the torrent of English speech. “Virtue,” he heard, and “war” and, before long, the inevitable “
Angel of Caprona
.” He was still staring when Aunt Gina stuck her note into his hand and told him to make haste.

As they hurried to the butcher’s, Tonino said to Paolo, “I didn’t know Mother knew anyone like Chrestomanci.”

“Neither did I,” Paolo confessed. He was only a year older than Tonino, after all, and it seemed that Chrestomanci had last been in Caprona a very long time ago. “Perhaps he’s come to find the words to the
Angel
,” Paolo suggested. “I hope so. I don’t want Rinaldo to have to go away and fight.”

“Or Marco,” Tonino agreed. “Or Carlo or Luigi or even Domenico.”

Because of Aunt Gina’s note, the butcher treated them with great respect, “Tell her this is the last good steak she’ll see, if war is declared,” he said, and he passed them each a heavy, squashy pink armload.

They arrived back with their armfuls just as a cab set down Uncle Umberto, puffing and panting, outside the Casa gate. “I am right, Chrestomanci
is
here? Eh, Paolo?” Uncle Umberto asked Tonino.

Both boys nodded. It seemed easier than explaining that Paolo was Tonino.

“Good, good!” exclaimed Uncle Umberto and surged into the Casa, where he found Chrestomanci just crossing the yard. “The
Angel of Caprona
,” Uncle Umberto said to him eagerly. “Could you—?”

“My dear Umberto,” said Chrestomanci, shaking his hand warmly, “everyone here is asking me that. For that matter, so was everyone in the Casa Petrocchi too. And I’m afraid I know no more than you do. But I shall think about it, don’t worry.”

“If you could find just a line, to get us started,” Uncle Umberto said pleadingly.

“I
will
do my best—” Chrestomanci was saying, when, with a great clattering of heels, Rosa shot past. From the look on her face, she had seen Marco arriving. “I promise you that,” Chrestomanci said, as his head turned to see what Rosa was running for.

Marco came through the gate and stopped so dead, staring at Chrestomanci, that Rosa charged into him and nearly knocked him over. Marco staggered a bit, put his arms round Rosa, and went on staring at Chrestomanci. Tonino found himself holding his breath. Rinaldo was right. There
was
something about Marco. Chrestomanci knew it, and Marco knew he knew. From the look on Marco’s face, he expected Chrestomanci to say what it was.

Chrestomanci indeed opened his mouth to say something, but he
shut it again and pursed his lips in a sort of whistle instead. Marco looked at him uncertainly.

“Oh,” said Uncle Umberto, “may I introduce—” He stopped and thought. Rosa he usually remembered, because of her fair hair, but he could not place Marco. “Corinna’s fiancé,” he suggested.

“I’m Rosa,” said Rosa. “This is Marco Andretti.”

“How do you do?” Chrestomanci said politely. Marco seemed to relax. Chrestomanci’s eyes turned to Paolo and Tonino, standing staring. “Good heavens!” he said. “Everyone here seems to live such exciting lives. What have you boys killed?”

Paolo and Tonino looked down in consternation, to find that the steak was leaking on to their shoes. Two or three cats were approaching meaningly.

Aunt Gina appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Where’s my steak?”

Paolo and Tonino sped towards her, leaving a pattering trail. “What was all that about?” Paolo panted to Tonino.

“I don’t know,” said Tonino, because he didn’t, and because he liked Marco.

Aunt Gina shortly became very sharp and passionate about the steak. The leaking trail attracted every cat in the Casa. They were underfoot in the kitchen all evening, mewing pitifully. Benvenuto was also present, at a wary distance from Aunt Gina, and he made good use of his time. Aunt Gina erupted into the yard again, trumpeting.

“Tonino!
Ton-in-ooh!
”

Tonino laid down his book and hurried outside. “Yes, Aunt Gina?”

“That cat of yours has stolen a whole pound of steak!” Aunt Gina trumpeted, flinging a dramatic arm skyward.

Tonino looked, and there, sure enough, Benvenuto was, crouched on the pan-tiles of the roof, with one paw holding down quite a large lump of meat. “Oh dear,” he said. “I don’t think I can make him give
it back, Aunt Gina.”

“I don’t want it back. Look where it’s been!” screamed Aunt Gina. “Tell him from me that I shall wring his evil neck if he comes near me again!”

“My goodness, you do seem to be at the center of everything,” Chrestomanci remarked, appearing beside Tonino in the yard. “Are you always in such demand?”

“I shall have hysterics,” declared Aunt Gina. “And no one will get any supper.” Elizabeth and Aunt Maria and Cousins Claudia and Teresa immediately came to her assistance and led her tenderly back indoors.

“Thank the Lord!” said Chrestomanci. “I’m not sure I could stand hysterics and starvation at once. How did you know I was an enchanter, Tonino? From Benvenuto?”

“No. I just knew when I looked at you,” said Tonino.

“I see,” said Chrestomanci. “This is interesting. Most people find it impossible to tell. It makes me wonder if Old Niccolo is right, when he talks of the virtue leaving your house. Would you be able to tell another enchanter when you looked at him, do you think?”

Tonino screwed up his face and wondered. “I might. It’s the eyes. You mean, would I know the enchanter who’s spoiling our spells?”

“I think I mean that,” said Chrestomanci. “I’m beginning to believe there is someone. I’m sure, at least, that the spells on the Old Bridge were deliberately broken. Would it interfere with your plans too much, if I asked your grandfather to take you with him whenever he has to meet strangers?”

“I haven’t got any plans,” said Tonino. Then he thought, and he laughed. “I think you make jokes all the time.”

“I aim to please,” Chrestomanci said.

However, when Tonino next saw Chrestomanci, it was at supper—
which was magnificent, despite Benvenuto and the hysterics—and Chrestomanci was very serious indeed. “My dear Niccolo,” he said, “my mission
has
to concern the misuse of magic, not the balance of power in Italy. There would be no end of trouble if I was caught trying to stop a war.”

Old Niccolo had his look of a baby about to cry. Aunt Francesca said, “We’re not asking this personally—”

“But, my dear,” said Chrestomanci, “don’t you see that I can only do something like this as a personal matter? Please ask me personally. I shan’t let the strict terms of my mission interfere with what I owe my friends.” He smiled then, and his eyes swept around everyone gathered at the great table, very affectionately. He did not seem to exclude Marco. “So,” he said, “I think my best plan for the moment is to go on to Rome. I know certain quarters there, where I can get impartial information, which should enable me to pin down this enchanter. At the moment, all we know is that he exists. If I’m lucky, I can prove whether Florence, or Siena, or Pisa is paying him—in which case, they and he can be indicted at the Court of Europe. And if, while I’m at it, I can get Rome, or Naples, to move on Caprona’s behalf, be very sure I shall do it.”

“Thank you,” said Old Niccolo.

For the rest of supper, they discussed how Chrestomanci could best get to Rome. He would have to go by sea. It seemed that the last stretch of border, between Caprona and Siena, was now closed.

Much later that night, when Paolo and Tonino were on their way to bed, they saw lights in the Scriptorium. They tiptoed along to investigate. Chrestomanci was there with Antonio, Rinaldo and Aunt Francesca, going through spells in the big red books. Everyone was speaking in mutters, but they heard Chrestomanci say, “This is a sound combination, but it’ll need new words.” And on another page, “Get Elizabeth to put this in English, as a surprise factor.” And again,
“Ignore the tune. The only tune which is going to be any use to you at the moment is the
Angel
. He can’t block that.”

“Why just those three?” Tonino whispered.

“They’re best at making new spells,” Paolo whispered back. “We need new war-spells. It sounds as if the other enchanter knows the old ones.”

They crept to bed with an excited, urgent feeling, and neither of them found it easy to sleep.

Chrestomanci left the next morning before the children went to school. Benvenuto and Old Niccolo escorted him to the gate, one on either side, and the entire Casa gathered to wave him off. Things felt both flat and worrying once he was gone. That day, there was a great deal of talk of war at school. The teachers whispered together. Two had left, to join the Reserves. Rumors went around the classes. Someone told Tonino that war would be declared next Sunday, so that it would be a Holy War. Someone else told Paolo that all the Reserves had been issued with two left boots, so that they would not be able to fight. There was no truth in these things. It was just that everyone now knew that war was coming.

The boys hurried home, anxious for some real news. As usual, Benvenuto leaped off his waterbutt. While Tonino was enjoying Benvenuto’s undivided attention again, Elizabeth called from the gallery, “Tonino! Someone’s sent you a parcel.”

Tonino and Benvenuto sprang for the gallery stairs, highly excited. Tonino had never had a parcel before. But before he got anywhere near it, he was seized on by Aunt Maria, Rosa and Uncle Lorenzo. They seized on all the children who could write and hurried them to the dining room. This had been set up as another Scriptorium. By each chair was a special pen, a bottle of red war-ink and a pile of strips of paper. There the children were kept busy fully two hours, copying the same
war-charm, again and again. Tonino had never been so frustrated in his life. He did not even know what shape his parcel was. He was not the only one to feel frustrated.

“Oh, why?” complained Lucia, Paolo and young Cousin Lena.

“I know,” said Aunt Maria. “Like school again. Start writing.”

“It’s exploiting children, that’s what we’re doing,” Rosa said cheerfully. “There are probably laws against it, so do complain.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” said Lucia. “I am doing.”

“As long as you write while you grumble,” said Rosa.

“It’s a new spell-scrip for the Army,” Uncle Lorenzo explained. “It’s very urgent.”

“It’s hard. It’s all new words,” Paolo grumbled.

“Your father made it last night,” said Aunt Maria. “Get writing. We’ll be watching for mistakes.”

When finally, stiff-necked and with red splodges on their fingers, they were let out into the yard, Tonino discovered that he had barely time to unwrap the parcel before supper. Supper was early that night, so that the elder Montanas could put in another shift on the army-spells before bedtime.

“It’s worse than working on the Old Bridge,” said Lucia. “What’s that, Tonino? Who sent it?”

The parcel was promisingly book-shaped. It bore the stamp and the arms of the University of Caprona. This was the only indication Tonino had that Uncle Umberto had sent it, for, when he wrenched off the thick brown paper, there was no letter, not even a card. There was only a new shiny book. Tonino’s face beamed. At least Uncle Umberto knew this much about him. He turned the book lovingly over. It was called
The Boy Who Saved His Country
, and the cover was the same shiny, pimpled red leather as the great volumes of war-spells.

“Is Uncle Umberto trying to give you a hint, or something?” Paolo
asked, amused. He and Lucia and Corinna leaned over Tonino while he flipped through the pages. There were pictures, to Tonino’s delight. Soldiers rode horses, soldiers rode machines; a boy hung from a rope and scrambled up the frowning wall of a fortress; and, most exciting of all, a boy stood on a rock with a flag, confronting a whole troop of ferocious-looking dragoons. Sighing with anticipation, Tonino turned to Chapter One:
How Giorgio uncovered an Enemy Plot
.

“Supper!”
howled Aunt Gina from the yard. “Oh I shall go mad! Nobody attends to me!”

Tonino was forced to shut the lovely book again and hurry down to the dining room. He watched Aunt Gina anxiously as she doled out minestrone. She looked so hectic that he was convinced Benvenuto must have been at work in the kitchen again.

“It’s all right,” Rosa said. “It’s just she thought she’d got a line from the
Angel of Caprona
. Then the soup boiled over and she forgot it again.”

Aunt Gina was distinctly tearful. “With so much to do, my memory is like a sieve,” she kept saying. “Now I’ve let you all down.”

“Of course you haven’t, Gina my dear,” said Old Niccolo. “This is nothing to worry about. It will come back to you.”

“But I can’t even remember what language it was in!” wailed Aunt Gina.

Everyone tried to console her. They sprinkled grated cheese on their soup and slurped it with special relish, to show Aunt Gina how much they appreciated her, but Aunt Gina continued to sniff and accuse herself. Then Rinaldo thought of pointing out that she had got further than anyone else in the Casa Montana. “None of the rest of us has any of the
Angel of Caprona
to forget,” he said, giving Aunt Gina his best smile.