by Den Patrick
Dino crossed the room to the window, Massimo’s warning ringing in his ears. Mention this to no one. He turned back to the Domina, locking eyes with her. No good will come of it.
‘Nothing happened.’ But the lie stuck in his throat. ‘I’ll have that water now, please,’ he said to Fiorenza.
‘Wait here,’ said the Domina. She retired to her room, emerging thirty minutes later, a column of scarlet, the biretta lodged on her head, silver staff in hand. Dino’s temper prickled in the rising heat. He wasn’t some lackey with time to waste waiting.
‘Explain to me, Lord Erudito,’ began the Domina, ‘how you failed to miss Maestro Cherubini’s two guests last night?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ The words faltered on his lips.
‘Maestro Cherubini’s maid entered his apartment this morning. Evidently the maestro thought the door locked. His maid has no key.’
Dino’s stomach lurched. He saw himself, as if in a dream, fleeing the apartment. He’d not been able to lock the door behind him.
‘The maid was horrified to find two men in the maestro’s chamber.’
This is my fault. He all but said the words aloud.
The Domina crossed to her table and stood in front of it, tilting her head slightly. Dino realised he wasn’t reacting, not feigning surprise or even attempting to hide the lie.
‘However,’ continued the Domina, ‘they’d not been sent there to kill him.’
This is all my fault. The words burned on his lips, begging to be released.
‘I’m not sure I follow you,’ he managed from gritted teeth.
‘Then perhaps you’ll follow this.’ Her eyes flashed angrily. ‘I received this information from a maid this morning. A chambermaid. And you were supposed to be in that very apartment. In the adjoining room, Dino. How in nine hells do you miss something like that?’
Dino clenched his fists and drew in a breath.
‘I was in the sitting room. The maestro must have retired for the night before I arrived.’
‘And you failed to overhear three men fucking?’
‘I heard nothing.’
‘You have to be the most half-witted spy in the whole castle.’
Dino fought the urge to strike her, woman or not.
‘I was on bodyguard duty last night, not sent to spy on anyone.’
‘If you can find work with another house I suggest you do so. Perhaps Margravio Contadino can lend you a scythe to get the harvest in.’
‘And perhaps we can demote you back to school teacher.’
They faced each other, a fraying rope of silence straining between them.
‘What will happen to him?’ Dino took a step forward.
‘Who?’
‘Cherubini, of course. What will happen to him?’
The Domina looked at him incredulously. ‘He’ll be asked to retire. What parent in their right mind would send their child to him for schooling following this?’
This is all my fault. The words ached to be free.
‘Retirement? That’s ridiculous.’ He’d taken another step toward her. ‘Think of the political consequences.’
‘The news will be all over Demesne by now,’ she said, waving one hand casually. ‘This isn’t my doing, Dino. You may as well blame the maid.’
Or yourself. She hadn’t said it. She hadn’t needed to.
‘We can’t lose Cherubini,’ Dino pressed. He’s one of Anea’s greatest supporters. He’s one of our greatest supporters.’
‘I don’t need a lesson in politics from a failed spy.’
His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, jaw clenched, anger a thick and bitter bile in his throat.
A knock on the door broke the stalemate.
Fiorenza emerged from the bedroom to answer it, a worried look crossing her face as she snatched a glance at her employer. She opened the door, peering through the gap.
‘I bring news for the Domina.’ Nardo’s voice from the corridor. The Domina crossed the room, all but pushing Fiorenza aside.
‘Well? Out with it.’
‘It seems Lady Allattamento is looking to move to the countryside. She’s making enquiries to purchase a villa. The Contadinos have a scheme they’d like to discuss with you in the great hall.’
Dino rolled his eyes. Didn’t I just tell them not to sell? he wanted to shout. Didn’t I just say that Duke Fontein plans to conceal his wife elsewhere?
The Domina turned to Dino. ‘We’ll finish this later,’ she said, every syllable loaded with threat. She left the room, her voice audible down the long corridor as she demanded answers from Nardo. Dino listened to the voices dwindle in the distance.
‘Are you sure you’re well, my lord?’
Dino looked up to find Fiorenza regarding him, concern plain in her gaze.
‘I’m fine. But what of you? It can’t be much fun to work here.’ He stabbed a thumb over one shoulder, indicating the departed Domina. A smile blossomed on Fiorenza’s face. She looked away and regained her composure.
‘I only work in the mornings. She doesn’t like me cleaning the place.’
‘Hmmm.’ He looked around. ‘Can’t say I didn’t notice.’ This earned him another smile.
‘I just change the bedclothes and clear away the plates.’ She clasped her hands in front of her. She was a generously proportioned woman, well turned out, obviously trustworthy and with some humour. A thought occurred to him.
‘I could use someone like you for my own apartment.’
‘My lord?’
‘Bedding, plates, a little cleaning. You don’t have to feed the drake; he’s my concern.’
‘Oh, my lord, that’s a generous offer but I’m—’
‘I’ll match whatever the Domina’s paying you. You don’t even have to stop working for her. My rooms can wait until the afternoon.’
‘I should probably ask her for permission …’
‘And I’ll see if we can get you into a few classes.’
Her eyes went wide.
‘No point working for Lord Erudito if you can’t enjoy privileges of the house.’
‘My lord, you are too kind.’
‘Not really.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’m a lousy spy, a poor diplomat and bad dancer. I should do one useful thing this lifetime, you know?’
‘You’re too hard on yourself, my lord.’ She beamed, clearly not believing her good fortune.
‘Call me Dino. Formality brings me out in a rash.’ He sketched a mock bow. This earned him a giggle. It was a good sound, one he needed to hear more of.
‘Now get out of here. Take the rest of the day off.’
She dropped a curtsy and was gone.
‘Shame your motives weren’t entirely selfless, my lord,’ he muttered, crossing the room, turning the key in the door. The click of the lock satisfied him intensely. The Domina would be gone for some time.
‘I’ll show you half-witted spy, you scrawny carogna.’
He examined the table meticulously, starting at one end, carefully setting each item down as he’d found it. There was nothing particularly interesting or out of the ordinary: records of taxes, the incomplete results of a failed census, complaints from Lord Fontein. Plenty of the latter.
He continued looking, anger fuelling his desire to uncover something on the sour-faced Domina. The bedroom door was ajar, just as Fiorenza had left it. He edged into the room, eyes settling on the bedside table.
‘And now I have you.’
He’d hoped to discover some personal embarrassment, something he could use, something to hold over her. But what he found far exceeded his imaginings. The script was in a disjointed and spidery hand, hard to read and full of pomposity. The parchment was uneven, as if water-damaged, but what unnerved him the most was the rich ruby-red ink.
My dear Domina,
I have a simple request following my generous donation to the House Diaspora coffers. It has come to my attention that Maestro Cherubini is in grave danger. There are those in De
mesne who are not fooled by his corpulent and avuncular ways. Make no mistake, the maestro is a formidable political opponent, perhaps even the equal of yourself. It stands to reason that weaker minds seek to undo him in a more direct fashion.
It is my recommendation you assign someone to watch over him. Do this without his knowledge else he be alarmed unduly. I’m sure you have someone in your employ you can spare. It is no great chore, nor does it require much skill.
I look forward greatly to meeting you, but am currently indisposed. Know that I am bending every effort to attending the Ravenscourt when it reconvenes. I hope to prove a staunch ally to your endeavours. Forgive my penchant for secrecy, but rest assured my agents are already among you, keeping you safe from harm. It will be a fine day indeed when we return Demesne to her old glory.
Sincerely yours,
Erebus
Dino sat on the bed and placed the note back on the table, puzzling over this new player. ‘As if I needed further complications,’ he whispered to himself.
The Orfano all but collapsed when he returned to his rooms, but not before locking the door into the corridor. He wedged a chair under the handle for good measure. Achilles watched with his usual indifference but grew increasingly agitated as Dino moved the furniture, scuttling under an armchair with a loud hiss. Dino shifted a small wardrobe across his bedchamber and placed it in front of the door to his sitting room. Finally, he slept.
17
Prospero’s Star
– 18 Luglio 325
Noise.
Dino rolled over, hunger and the burning desire to make water competing for awareness.
‘Hold on,’ he shouted through a sore throat.
The small wardrobe took a moment to shift. The banging on the apartment door continued urgent and loud. Achilles hissed.
‘I said hold on, damn you.’
Dino went back to the bedchamber and drew his sword, then stormed back to the sitting room. He kicked the chair from the door and turned the key in the lock, flinging the door open.
‘I said hold on, you donkey-raping halfwit.’
An intake of breath, a grimace.
‘Ah, it’s you. I’m only just awake and not in charge of my humour.’
‘No mean understatement.’ Massimo nodded and suppressed a smile.
‘Did you not think it possible I might be out?’
‘I was more concerned you might be dead. People have been looking for you all afternoon.’
‘Dead tired is all.’ He sheathed the sword and frowned, trying to mask the foolishness he felt.
‘Why don’t you find your manners, and some clothes,’ Massimo raised an eyebrow. Margravio Contadino wishes to speak with you in the rose garden.’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
Dino closed the door, pressing his forehead against the ancient wood, squeezing his eyes shut.
The Orfano emerged into the rose garden, the dregs of sleep weighing on him. He was unsure of the time, knowing only that he’d retired before noon. It was cool in the garden, the sun absent, dirty white clouds littering the sky like rumpled bedsheets. The shock of the Fonteins’ scheme and the undoing of Cherubini lingered on his nerves. He felt outside time somehow, in a fugue state.
The margravio stood beside the statue of Santa Maria, one hand in the small of his back, the other holding a rose, testing its prickles with a calloused thumb. Massimo haunted the double doors on the far side of the garden, deterrent to any who should intrude on the conversation. Dino flicked him a salute and the swordsman returned it, but no smile appeared on his face. The Orfano hurried to the margravio and bowed.
‘My lord, please accept my apologies for keeping you waiting.’
‘Do not concern yourself with it, Lord Erudito. I know you keep unusual hours and must take your rest when you can. Are you well?’
‘The business with Cherubini has put me in poor humour.’
The margravio nodded and regarded the rose.
‘You’re not alone in that. Medea has been inconsolable.’ If the margravio felt any sadness he refused to show it, his face a mask of formality. ‘My wife has been greatly concerned about you. I sent Massimo to your door because we knew you’d take the news badly.’
‘Cherubini has been my constant.’ Dino crossed his arms and looked away. ‘Even before I discovered Lucien and Anea were my brother and sister there was always Cherubini. And now …’
‘And now they’re sending him away,’ said the margravio. Dino’s eyes returned to Massimo.
‘Who watches your children, my lord?’
‘I have two men,’ said the margravio, ‘trusted men, veterans of the Verde Guerra. Abramo and Marcell.’
‘That’s good,’ said Dino without much inflection. ‘Forgive me for being forward, my lord, but I heard you were planning to sell a villa, despite my warning.’
‘Yes.’ Margravio Contadino almost smiled. ‘Another reason for calling you.’ He set off at a gentle pace around the garden, boots rasping in the white gravel. ‘I’ve decided upon a scheme and it’s all thanks to you.’
‘How so, my lord?’
‘You mentioned that Duke Fontein wanted somewhere in the country for his wife. She assumes she’ll be safe there.’
‘That’s true, my lord.’ Dino’s eyes narrowed.
‘I’m going to turn that to my advantage.’
‘My lord, I do hope you’re not—’
‘Our supporters are more depleted that ever following the scandal with Cherubini. Duchess Prospero and Duke Fontein grow more daring all the time—’
‘My lord, I’ve reason to believe that the shaming of the maestro was a plot, but not by Fontein or Prospero.’
‘Nonetheless,’ continued the margravio. He’d settled into a rhythm now. Dino could see he’d spent the day thinking his plan over. ‘With Cherubini retired we’ll be underpowered at court. But if we could hold the duchess hostage …’
‘My lord, Anea would never agree to such a thing.’ Margravio Contadino stopped abruptly and turned. The fencing scar through his eyebrow made his frown all the more furious.
‘We’re fighting for our very existence. You and I will be the first of those executed if Prospero and Fontein overthrow Anea. You of all people know this.’
‘My lord—’
‘Let Allattamento buy the villa,’ snarled the margravio. ‘I need the money. Let Fontein send his duchess from Demesne.’ He stepped in close to Dino, eyes hard. ‘If they harm one hair on Medea’s head I’ll have my vengeance in kind. By my own hand.’
Dino stared, not trusting himself to speak.
‘Mention this to no one, Lord Erudito. I regret informing you of my plans. Forget this conversation ever occurred.’
‘Anea would not want us to conduct ourselves like this, my lord.’
‘Good night to you, Lord Erudito. Perhaps you’ll see the sense of my actions in the morning.’
Dino watched the man walk away, past the statue of Santa Maria, on through the double doors into House Contadino.
Massimo hesitated, then approached. ‘He’s been like that all day,’ said the swordsman.
‘Can you speak to him?’
‘You think I haven’t tried? I’d hoped you’d be on hand to help. What happened?’
‘I was exhausted, you know. And after the business with Cherubini I—’
‘A little old to be hiding in your room?’ Massimo smiled, but the words stung all the same.
‘I wasn’t hiding,’ he replied, too quick to temper his displeasure. ‘I was sleeping. Something I do precious little of.’
The first stars had appeared in the sky above the garden. Dino walked over to the stone bench in the corner, the swordsman trailing him. They sat and watched the night unfold.
‘Do you remember saying I should ask for help if I was in trouble?’
‘Of course,’ replied Massimo.
‘Can you ask the margravio to release you tomorrow night?’
‘That might be dif
ficult.’
‘Ask Medea.’ Dino wasn’t used to begging. ‘She wouldn’t begrudge me one night, surely?’
‘I can’t just drop my duties to come and drown my sorrows at the taverna.’
‘We’re not going to the taverna.’ Dino sat forward and laced his fingers.
‘And I can’t come spying either; the margravio was very clear on that.’
‘That’s not going to be a problem,’ said Dino.
‘Because?’
‘Because I’m no longer Russo’s spy.’
‘You resigned?’ Massimo had dropped his voice to a whisper.
‘Not exactly. Sufficient to say the Domina and I had a difference of opinion over the Cherubini scandal.’
‘So what then?’ pressed Massimo.
‘The night I went up to the rooftops, the night I went to House Fontein, I saw more of the grey men.’
‘The raiders in the town?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you want to hunt them?’
Dino nodded.
‘But shouldn’t we go tonight?’
‘I can’t. I’m having dinner with Stephania.’
‘Oh.’ the swordsman looked crestfallen, unusually so. ‘Well, until tomorrow then.’
Massimo stood, hesitated as if he wanted to say more, then left. Dino watched him go, content he’d recruited the right ally for the job. Now he’d need to convince another ally to face another of Demesne’s ills.
Dino’s pulse was racing by the time he arrived on the seventh floor of House Prospero, but it wasn’t the prospect of seeing Stephania, rather the many stairs that had induced the effect. Her sitting room was an artful sprawl of books and paintings, odd pieces of unfinished tailoring and swatches of fabric. A likeness of the late Duke Prospero watched over them. He had not possessed a profile that suited being captured in oils, but the duke appeared kindly and jovial, a refreshing change to the many dour portraits around Demesne.
Stephania had dressed especially for his visit, a gown of vivid cyan declaring her loyalty to House Diaspora, as if Dino had ever doubted it.
‘Did you know?’
‘No. Not a clue.’ Dino sighed with the full weight of his sadness. ‘I always assumed he was an eccentric old bachelor. House Erudito is full of them.’