by Mary Hoffman
There was a murmur of agreement but Beatrice said nothing and remained looking at her plate. Fabrizio seemed determined to bring her into the conversation.
‘Doesn’t he look well, sister?’ he asked, drawing everyone’s attention to the reluctant young woman.
She glanced up briefly at Filippo and smiled wanly. ‘Yes indeed, brother,’ she said.
Francesca shot Gaetano a worried glance and then engaged Filippo in conversation about what was happening in Bellona.
It wasn’t possible to speak openly in the carriage on the way home but, as soon as they were alone in their room, Francesca burst out, ‘He’s decided to marry your sister to my brother!’
‘Really?’ said Gaetano. ‘Are you sure?’
‘You’d have to be a block of wood not to see it,’ said Francesca impatiently. ‘And not to see that Beatrice doesn’t want the match at all.’
‘I thought she was looking a bit unhappy,’ said Gaetano. ‘But Fabrizio can’t make her marry anyone she doesn’t want to.’
‘No, but he can make her life miserable if she refuses,’ said Francesca. ‘Think of it – she has no home other than the one he offers her, no fortune of her own, no future outside the will of the Grand Duke. What is she supposed to do but yield to Fabrizio’s wishes?’
‘Would it be such a terrible idea?’ said Gaetano. ‘I mean, Filippo’s not a bad sort. Wouldn’t you like Beatrice to marry your brother? I suppose she should marry someone.’
‘But not someone she doesn’t love!’ said Francesca. ‘Surely you understand that? Remember how nearly you married Arianna and that I actually was married off to someone I hated? And both of those terrible ideas came from within the family.’
‘You’re right, my darling,’ said Gaetano, taking her hand and kissing it. ‘Except that Arianna would never have had me. And Filippo is at least young and good-looking, unlike that ancient councillor Rinaldo bullied you into marrying. But I’m sorry to have awoken such painful memories. If Beatrice wants to defy Fabrizio, she can always have a home with us, can’t she?’
Francesca put her arms round his neck. ‘I knew you would understand,’ she said. ‘You are a dear and I should like to visit Beatrice tomorrow and tell her what you said. If she knows that even his sister wouldn’t press Filippo on her if she doesn’t want him, she might feel braver about standing up to your brother.’
The Barnsbury Stravaganti had become almost like an after-school club. They met regularly either in Nick’s attic or in their favourite coffee bar and compared notes. Ayesha sometimes joined them but she was working very hard for her AS level exams and as long as she got a couple of evenings alone with Matt each week she didn’t mind.
Alice was another matter. She complained bitterly to Georgia about it.
‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ said Georgia firmly. ‘This stuff is important to Sky. You know there’s a new Stravagante and we have to support her.’
‘I know that Bel Evans has got her eye on my boyfriend,’ said Alice. ‘And all these cosy get-togethers of yours just give her the opportunity to make a move on him.’
‘Don’t you trust him?’ asked Georgia. Alice had been her best friend for ages but they had never seen eye to eye about stravagation. ‘You remember that you thought I was making a play for him when all we were doing was talking about Talia.’
‘I know,’ said Alice, ‘but this is different. She is obviously keen on him.’
‘Look, we’re not a dating club! We really don’t talk about anything except stravagation. I’m sure Sky is just being kind to Bel. But if you get jealous, that could change.’
Alice looked at her with icy fury. ‘Don’t make it my fault – you with your . . . your wizards and sword-fights and magical objects. It’s pathetic! Like those people who dress up for Star Trek conventions.’
‘But you know it’s real – you’ve been there,’ protested Georgia. But Alice had stormed off.
Another person who wasn’t happy with Isabel’s new social life was Laura but, being Laura, she didn’t make scenes about it like Alice; she just withdrew further into herself.
And Isabel’s latest news gave the others little time to worry about people outside their group.
‘A pirate?’ said Matt. ‘What, with a gold earring and seashells in his hair?’
‘This is Flavia’s son,’ said Isabel. ‘Not a Hollywood actor. He does have silver teeth though – just a couple. And he dresses all in black.’
‘He’s the Black Raider?’ asked Sky.
‘Yes, and supposed to be very dangerous, though he was perfectly polite to me – except when he offered to throw me overboard.’
‘What?’ said Georgia.
‘But not in a bad way. He said it would teach me to swim, but I bottled out.’
‘Never mind all that,’ said Nick. ‘What about the Gate people?’
‘He’s had some dealings with them – no, I didn’t ask – and has decided he’s against them,’ said Isabel. ‘But more important, because he’s always on the sea and has contacts everywhere, he knows all sorts of stuff like how big the fleet is, what kind of ships they have and all kinds of useful information I could pass on to Rodolfo and the Duke.’
‘But how come Flavia, who’s a Stravagante and a respectable merchant, from what you’ve told us, has a son who’s a pirate?’ asked Matt. ‘It seems so unlikely.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Isabel. ‘I didn’t ask that either. Can’t you just accept that he is?’
‘But does that make him a good guy or not?’ said Matt. ‘I mean, you say he’s against the Gate people but does that make him an ally of the Stravaganti?’
‘People don’t come with T-shirts saying “villain” or “hero” in Talia,’ said Nick. ‘It’s not like a Hollywood film. You just have to see how things pan out.’
‘I remember that we thought the Nucci must be on our side in Giglia,’ said Sky, ‘because they were against the di Chimici. But Arianna could have been killed in the massacre they plotted.’
‘And not all the di Chimici are enemies, remember,’ said Georgia.
‘I know Luciano thought Filippo was OK in Padavia,’ said Matt. ‘And then Filippo tried to kill him – as well as helping to torture me.’
‘It’s very complicated,’ said Isabel. She had decided that she rather liked Andrea, once he had stopped trying to charm her.
‘Well, let’s look at what we’ve got,’ said Georgia. They were in Nick’s attic, spreading out sheets of notes, maps and family trees. ‘Let’s start with the di Chimici,’ she continued, looking sternly at Nick. ‘Here’s the family tree. Now, we should divide them into allies, enemies and unknowns. Yes, Nick, I know it’s not as clear as that but we can make a start. Bel needs to know who can be trusted in Talia.’
Nick looked a bit mutinous but didn’t protest.
‘And now that Nick’s here, the only one we can really be sure of is Gaetano,’ said Georgia.
‘And Francesca,’ said Nick.
‘OK, so that’s Gaetano and Francesca we can rely on,’ said Georgia, writing their names in one column. ‘Anything else we know for sure?’
‘Rinaldo and Filippo are definitely not on our side,’ said Matt, rubbing his face as if he could still feel the bruises he had got when in their custody.
‘And my brother Fabrizio,’ said Nick. ‘He hates the Stravaganti as much as our father did.’
It was weird for Isabel to hear him talking about a ‘brother’ living in another world and time but she supposed the others were used to it.
‘I think Alfonso of Volana is OK,’ said Sky, poring over the family tree. ‘Even though he is Rinaldo’s brother. He was great during the massacre and afterwards he looked after all the brides.’
‘So there’s a pattern?’ said Isabel. ‘The siblings aren’t the same. Fabrizio’s an enemy but Gaetano’s a friend, Francesca’s a friend but her brother Filippo’s an enemy. And this Alfonso’s OK even though Rinaldo is against us?’
‘You’re right,
’ said Georgia. ‘I’d never thought of it like that.’
‘What about, what’s-her-name . . . Caterina?’ said Isabel, consulting the tree. ‘She got one good brother and one bad one and she’s married to Fabrizio. What does that make her?’
‘I don’t think any of my female relations are enemies,’ said Nick. ‘Caterina, Bianca, Lucia, my sister Beatrice – I can’t see any of them waging a vendetta.’
‘So let’s put all of them and Alfonso with a question mark,’ said Georgia. ‘That makes two we are sure are friends, three enemies and five possible sympathisers – four of them women.’
‘What about the Pope?’ asked Sky, making Isabel jump.
‘The Pope?’ she asked. ‘Is he a di Chimici too?’
‘Yes,’ said Nick wearily. ‘He’s my uncle Ferdinando.’
‘He was impressive after the massacre,’ said Sky. ‘He stopped Niccolò from executing all the Nucci.’
Isabel wondered if she’d ever catch up with the others. They had often mentioned this Niccolò, who had been Nick’s father in Giglia; he sounded terrifying and she was glad that Luciano had dispatched him.
‘I think he’s OK,’ said Nick. ‘Basically a good man, but weak. And there’s my other uncle, Jacopo, Prince of Bellona, who’s Francesca and Filippo’s father. And there’s another Jacopo too, a sort of cousin. He’s Lucia and Bianca’s father. He’s known as Jacopo the Elder and is Prince of Fortezza.’
‘So the di Chimici are in charge of lots of cities in Talia?’ asked Isabel.
‘Not as many as they’d like,’ said Georgia. ‘But yes, the two Nick mentioned plus Giglia – obviously – and Remora, Moresco and Volana.’
Isabel counted on her fingers. ‘That’s six. How many others are there?’
‘Well, there are lots of cities,’ said Nick, ‘but they all come under the rule of one or other of the city-states and there are six that are independent of my family.’
‘Of the di Chimici, Nick,’ said Georgia, softening towards him and putting her arm round him. ‘You must stop thinking of them as your family.’
‘And Classe’s one of those,’ said Isabel, to cover up the awkwardness. ‘Is there a pattern to the cities we go to?’
Four pairs of eyes gave her the same surprised look. This was a new way of thinking about stravagation; they’d never tackled it as a group before.
‘The first city was Bellezza,’ said Georgia. ‘Where Luciano went and still lives.’ She was scribbling furiously a new list of their names and the cities they had stravagated to. ‘And that’s independent, obviously.’
‘Then I went to Remora – that’s under the di Chimici, because the Pope’s the Prince of Remora too,’ continued Georgia.
‘And I went to Giglia,’ said Sky. ‘Di Chimici again.’
‘Mine was independent,’ said Matt. ‘Padavia is governed by Antonio.’
‘And now Classe,’ said Isabel. ‘I can’t see any pattern.’
‘It was a good idea, though, Bel,’ said Sky. ‘Keep them coming.’
Fausto Ventura was surprised by the knock on his workshop door. A thin young man with a scarred face peered round it.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, Maestro,’ he said, ‘but I wondered if I might talk to you. I am Filippo Nucci, son of Matteo, formerly of Giglia.’
‘Why yes,’ said Fausto, wiping his hands on his apron before offering one to Filippo. ‘I have heard of you. You are welcome. What can I do for you?’
A commission for a mosaic from the Nucci, he was thinking.
But Filippo had something quite other in mind.
‘I have been looking at the mosaics in Classe, ever since I have been well enough to leave the house,’ said Filippo. ‘And I have seen some of your own work – in the Palazzo of Duke Germano and elsewhere. You are a very great artist.’
‘Thank you,’ said Fausto. He had no false modesty.
‘And I wondered if you would ever consider taking an apprentice from someone of my . . . class? Well, me actually.’
Fausto was nonplussed. Well-dressed young men from wealthy families did not beat a path to his door asking to be apprentices. But there was something about this one, with his large dark eyes and yearning expression, that made him reluctant to say no straight away.
‘It is sometimes quite taxing work, physically,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I have no wish to insult you, Signore, but are you quite fit and strong enough to crawl around floors or climb tall ladders to put the tesserae in place?’
Filippo looked alarmed and disappointed.
‘You don’t assemble them in the workshop?’ he asked, looking around at all the activity going on.
‘Yes, sometimes and for some parts of major mosaics, we do,’ said Fausto. ‘But there is still a lot of hard physical work involved in putting them in place.’
He took pity on Filippo’s woebegone face.
‘But perhaps, Signor Filippo, you are more interested in the design aspects of my work?’
Filippo’s eyes lit up. ‘Is that something I could learn?’ he asked eagerly.
‘May I suggest something?’ said Fausto, wondering why on earth he was even contemplating taking the young man on. ‘Rather than indenturing yourself to me as an apprentice, which I think Signor Matteo would not like, why don’t you come in and watch while I am working on a design? You can ask questions and after a period of study, which will also involve visiting the great churches in the city, you can try your hand at a mosaic design of your own.’
Filippo was delighted with this suggestion. He wouldn’t even need to tell his father.
‘I am so grateful to you, Maestro,’ he said. ‘My father is a banker and would like me to follow in his footsteps. But our business is greatly reduced since we . . . we had to leave Giglia.’ He unconsciously touched his scar. ‘He doesn’t need me yet and I really want to do something with my life. To make something beautiful, preferably. And my hands are uninjured, see?’
He tucked his cane awkwardly under one arm and spread his long white hands, which had never done any work, for Fausto to inspect.
The mosaicist managed to stop himself from shaking his head.
‘So I see,’ he said kindly. ‘And do you have any artistic gift?’
‘I’ve never tried,’ admitted Filippo. ‘But I do love beautiful things.’
‘Well, that’s a good place to start,’ said Fausto.
*
In Giglia, Beatrice was finding her cousin’s visit very difficult to cope with.
Fabrizio must have said something to him, she thought, because Filippo was constantly seeking her out, presenting her with nosegays, reading her poems he had written and generally behaving like a lovesick swain.
Beatrice was a very practical young woman. She accepted that she would have to marry one day; the only alternative was to enter a convent and that did not appeal to her. But she hadn’t really believed that Fabrizio would insist on a dynastic marriage for her – and so soon after their father’s death.
Now she tried to see her cousin Filippo, someone she had known all her life and played with as a child, in the light of a possible husband. He was handsome enough – most of the di Chimici family were good-looking – but she felt there was something lacking in his character. He was too easily led.
Take this visit of his to Giglia. It wasn’t his idea, Beatrice was sure. Fabrizio had sent for him and told him to court her so that was what he was doing. But Beatrice felt guilty because she knew how powerful her brother’s role was within the family and how difficult it would be to disobey him. And yet that was what she was planning.
She just prayed that she would have the strength to do it.
Chapter 8
Defiance
Vicky Mulholland had an unusual relationship with her children. Her first son had died more than three years ago and yet she had seen him several times since. At first it had been hard but she had accepted that this was how it was and she could talk about it to no one except her husband, David. And then, a
few months ago, Lucien had come into their house and they had held him and hugged him and she still couldn’t speak of it with anyone.
Her second boy, first a foster-child but since the summer her officially adopted son, Nicholas, had almost as great a mystery attached to him. He had materialised out of nowhere, his memory gone and his body shattered but with a luminously beautiful face, which showed his loving and trusting nature.
Over the past two years she had watched him grow strong and tall and seen him learn to walk without assistance. He was now the captain of the Barnsbury fencing team and as apparently normal as any other teenager in Islington.
But Vicky and David knew that the amnesia had just been a cover story. On Lucien’s last visit, during that terrible time when another boy had nearly died, he had told them that Nick and Georgia knew all about the mysterious world where he lived now and that Nick had come from the same place.
When Lucien had gone, after eating a pizza and taking a shower like any normal living boy, Vicky had collapsed into misery. She knew that things were happening that were beyond her control or comprehension and she couldn’t deal with it straight away. Her mind just closed down.
David and Nicholas were both anxious for her but equally unable to talk about what had happened. So it remained a big unspoken topic in the family. Vicky wanted to know where Nick had come from and what Georgia had to do with it but she simply couldn’t bear to talk or think about Lucien.
And then one day she walked into the dining room and found Nick and Georgia poring over what looked like a family tree. They both started guiltily and covered up what they were doing. Then Nick saw how drawn Vicky’s face looked and he sat back and slid the paper back out into the open. He looked at his adopted mother and suddenly she knew the moment had come. She sat down opposite them and prepared herself to hear what she needed to know.
‘Tell me about it,’ she said quietly.
‘It is the lineage of my first family,’ said Nick. ‘The di Chimici.’
‘And you know about them too?’ Vicky asked Georgia.