The Boy Who Wept Blood

by Den Patrick

  My dear Domina,

  Please find the vials of tinctura enclosed with this note. I hope you enjoy the benefits of them and they go some way to securing your agreement for the scheme I propose.

  It has come to my attention that Duke Fontein is preparing to move against Demesne, perhaps even wishing to take the throne for himself. This cannot be allowed to happen. Fontein has ever been a truculent house, and the duke continues this tradition. If he were to die now, without an heir, it would provide stability for the years ahead. Think on this.

  Sincerely yours,

  Erebus

  Dino shuddered. The Domina had clearly stated the decision to kill the duke was hers alone, and yet the proof rested in his hands, pale parchment and spidery scrawl testament to her lie. Not an order, but a suggestion. Dino set down the note to find another hidden in the false bottom of a top drawer of the dresser.

  My dear Domina,

  Your decision to remove Duke Fontein is brave and admirable. All too often those in power fail to grasp what needs to be done even when it is unseemly to do it. Especially when it is unseemly to do it. You have far more steel than those craven fools and I am pleased. Find another vial of tinctura enclosed as a measure of my regard for you.

  There is one small problem. The duke sired a bastard. It is thought the bastard lives within Demesne. If this bastard were to learn of its heritage it could lay claim to the House Fontein estates and become a formidable power. Rumours of the duke’s assassination are to be expected, but I am pleased that he died in a sufficiently peaceful way. Your assassin is skilled and not without talent.

  Apologies again for my continued absence, but know that I hunger to attend the Ravenscourt most keenly.

  Sincerely yours,

  Erebus

  Dino’s mouth curled in disgust. He placed the letters back into the false-bottomed drawer, stealing a glance around the bedroom. Nothing seemed amiss. His fingers had curled around the handle of the door when the scrape of key on metal alerted him. The click of a lock, a collection of footsteps muffled by the rug at the centre of the sitting room. The low murmur of voices, the Domina and another. The apartment door closed behind them, then locked. Dino had no time to spirit himself through a window, instead pressing himself against the wall behind the bedroom door, which opened at that very moment. No one entered. Dino guessed the Domina stood on the threshold of her bedchamber.

  ‘I would never have thought you timid.’ The Domina’s voice, sultry, challenging.

  ‘I came to talk, not to fuck.’ Dino recognised the voice instantly, so angry he could barely breathe.

  ‘The duchess is playing a dangerous game,’ continued the Domina. ‘Salvaza can’t possibly hope to put herself in contention with Anea to lead the republic.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure of Anea,’ countered the capo. ‘She’s becoming every inch the reclusive king. The people haven’t made the connection yet, but they will, and they’ll turn against her. A few well placed rumours of growing madness and, well …’

  ‘Even with Cherubini gone, there’s very little Anea can’t do.’ The Domina was all but purring now. ‘The cult adore her. That she’s Lucien’s sister makes her a hero by association. It would be unfortunate if you were on the wrong side when the dust settles.’

  ‘The wrong side?’ The capo coughed politely. ‘She wants to strip the nobili of everything. Everything they own and everything they’ve worked for.’

  ‘Or had their vassals work for.’ Dino could hear the mocking smile on the Domina’s lips.

  ‘An estate doesn’t build itself, wealth doesn’t grow on trees.’ This defiantly from the capo.

  ‘True. But in the republic you won’t need a title to be rich, just the desire to work hard. And possess the right allies. We’ll not take anything from you in return for your loyalty.’

  ‘But the duchess—’

  ‘Her time is over, Guido. Don’t you think she should have married you by now? Rewarded you for ten long years of companionship. She’s sneering at you, making a mockery of all those bright ambitions you once held.’

  ‘It’s going to cost you.’ His words were icy.

  ‘Name your price.’

  ‘I want to be the next Duke Fontein.’

  ‘That name will die out with the bloodline. Anea won’t be turned from this.’

  ‘I want to be commander of the guard. Dino must lose the vote.’

  ‘That will be even more difficult to manage.’

  ‘Those are my terms.’ He sounded less sure of himself now.

  ‘Why don’t we talk further,’ said the Domina, ‘in my chamber?’

  ‘I can’t; I have lessons to attend.’ Dino could almost hear the conflicting thoughts rattling around the capo’s empty head, like rusty chains pulling in different directions. ‘I’ll visit you tonight.’

  The capo and the Domina left the apartment, leaving Dino shaking with anger and relief.

  35

  Anger Undeserved

  – 18 Agosto 325

  Dino presented himself at the Contadino apartments after a breakfast which he picked at without interest. Any appetite had been atrophied by the discoveries of the previous day. What schemes would the Domina pursue today? What letters would she receive? What orders would she give, or be given?

  Maria opened the door, ending such ruminations. She was a woman in her late twenties with kindly eyes, possessing an aura of calm. It was small wonder Nardo had married her, smaller wonder still that Medea Contadino employed her as her housekeeper.

  ‘Good morning, Maria.’

  ‘Good morning, my lord,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh, how I love to be addressed that way.’ Dino rolled his eyes.

  ‘Don’t start with that; you know this morning is formal. Come in before you cut yourself on that sarcasm you’re so fond of wielding.’

  The Orfano grinned.

  The Contadino apartments were lavish compared to Dino’s own, the repository of decades if not centuries of wealth. Today the sitting room was knife sharp with tension. Margravio Contadino stood at the mantelpiece, stern as ever. He nodded to the Orfano.

  ‘My lord –’ Dino bowed politely ‘– you’ve gathered quite an escort.’

  It was true. Two men stood at the window wearing tabards of scarlet and white made bulky by the studded leather jerkins they wore beneath. Both wore dagger and sword, hung from bandoliere. As much as they were armed identically they couldn’t have looked more different.

  ‘This is my man Abramo,’ said Margravio Contadino, an edge of pride in his voice. Abramo was a tall lean man with dark olive skin. The hint of a smile played at the edge of his lips. Dino knew of the messenger, a veteran of the Verde Guerra, by reputation. He was a keen admirer of the many maids who worked in Demesne, who admired him back on occasion, so it was said. Some gossiped the man was nearly impoverished feeding his many children. Abramo saluted, favouring Dino with a broad grin.

  ‘Good to have you with us, my lord. I hear the roads are unsafe lately.’

  ‘And not just the roads.’ Dino smiled back.

  ‘And this,’ continued Margravio Contadino, ‘is Marcell.’

  Marcell was as stout as Abramo was thin, as pale as his friend was dark, possessing an entirely different humour. The stocky man nodded curtly. Dino noted Marcell was heavy in the shoulder and wore his hair cropped, hallmarks of the previous superiore. Giancarlo was ten years gone but still cast a shadow over the living, not least his students. Marcell had served during the Verde Guerra too, judging by the bronze sunburst medal he wore on his chest.

  Dino’s eyes shifted back to Margravio Contadino, now flanked by Massimo. Dino swallowed and cleared his throat. If Massimo’s wounded shoulder troubled him he made no show of it. His white tabard was immaculate, edged in scarlet, grey britches tucked into polished riding boots, scabbard hanging from a bandoliera of thick brown leather. Massimo nodded, sober and dutiful. Dino drew in a breath and realised he’d give anything for the swordsman to remain w
ithin the safety of the castle. Small chance of that.

  Medea entered from an adjoining room, an arm around each of her children. Luc Contadino regarded everyone with a wary gaze, as if the men in the room were there to threaten his father, rather than escort him.

  ‘Please, Emilio, I beg you not to go.’ Medea all but choked on the words. ‘Will you not stay and protect your family?’

  The bravos at the window looked away, embarrassed.

  ‘I have to go,’ said the margravio. ‘Cherubini has been exiled, Duke Fontein dead in mysterious circumstances. I’d rather act than react.’

  ‘You’re reacting to a summons,’ replied Medea, voice spiking with anger. ‘This is a crude trap, and you’re handing yourself over to them.’

  ‘My lord,’ interrupted Dino, ‘I will follow you anywhere, but I agree with Marchesa Contadino on this matter. Even if the letter is from Duchess Prospero, and even if she is seeking an alliance, why not just meet here, in Demesne?’

  ‘She’s obviously scared for her life,’ said the margravio. ‘Her position is precarious – she’s overextended herself. Duke Fontein’s death has birthed a army of consequences.’

  A knock at the door broke the flow of Dino’s thoughts. Maria answered it. Nardo entered, removed his hat and bowed.

  ‘My lord, I saw Duchess Prospero leave not more than thirty minutes ago. She was alone, carrying flowers, riding in the direction of the cemetery.’

  ‘And the capo?’

  ‘Training the men in the Fontein courtyard. He’s scheduled to be there all day.’

  ‘Strange the duchess should venture out alone,’ grunted Marcell. ‘Did she have a fight with her pretty boy?’

  ‘I believe the capo has had a change of heart lately,’ said Dino, choosing his words carefully. ‘He’s found a more influential patron to aid his ambitions.’

  ‘Huh. Never thought I’d see him start thinking for himself,’ muttered Nardo.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Dino. ‘He hasn’t. He’s sided with the Domina, but I’m not sure if that’s for the good.’

  No one said anything. The Domina had done much to undo her popularity, especially with the nobles, who were bitter at the prospect of a republic and their dwindling power.

  ‘Please, Emilio,’ Medea again, her voice a fractured whisper, ‘don’t do this. Send someone else, anyone.’ Silver tears tumbled down her face. Always a petite woman, her sadness reduced her further.

  Margravio Contadino shook his head sadly, then knelt down and removed his signet ring. He took his son’s hands and pressed the embossed metal into one palm. ‘You must survive. If anything should happen to me …’ The margravio swallowed and glanced at his ashen-faced wife. ‘Take care of your mother and sister. Trust in Nardo and Maria. Trust Dino. Stephania Prospero will be a friend to you. Flee to the coast if need be, but you must survive.’

  The boy, just eleven summers old, nodded solemnly, then clutched his mother. The margravio hugged his daughter, kissing Isabella on each cheek.

  ‘Bambini,’ was all he said, a catch in his voice.

  The men filed out of the apartment, boots echoing down the corridor. Dino felt every footfall as if they walked over his chest. His reluctance to kill the duke had been well founded, but until now he’d only thought of the moral complications, never the practical consequences.

  ‘Are you well, my lord?’ Abramo had fallen into step beside him.

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ replied Dino. ‘Are you as good with the weapon on your hip as you are with the one in your britches?’

  Abramo grinned like a wolf. ‘I know the hilt from the sharp end.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start.’

  ‘Do you really think it’s a trap, my lord?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think any more, only that Demesne continues to surprise me. And never in a good way.’

  They were almost at the stables in the Erudito courtyard when Stephania found him. Dino glanced at Massimo, feeling guilt rise like a welt from a lash.

  ‘There’s so many of you. Is something afoot?’

  Dino gave a tight nod, tried for a smile that wouldn’t come.

  ‘We’re going to patrol the Di Toro estate,’ he lied. ‘Reassure people after the recent raids.’

  She nodded, seeing the sense of it. The others were leading their mounts from the stable, checking reins and adjusting buckles. The courtyard was unquiet with the noise of horseshoes on cobbles.

  ‘Dino, I’m worried for my mother.’ Stephania didn’t meet his eyes. She stepped closer. ‘She came to me last night, said that she didn’t feel safe any more, that she feared for her life.’

  ‘She’s not been tardy making enemies.’ Dino’s voice was flat.

  ‘And not just her own life, but mine too.’

  ‘Did she say why?’

  ‘Rumours are growing of more assassinations.’ Stephania lowered her voice. ‘She worries they’ll kill me to strike at her.’

  ‘You’re not going to be assassinated,’ whispered Dino.

  ‘She asked me to flee to the coast.’

  ‘That’s convenient for her. Don’t you think she might just want you out of the way?’

  ‘I believed her, Dino. I didn’t want to, but she was so upset.’

  ‘She’s shed tears before.’

  ‘Not like this. She arrived at my door full of contrition. We spoke until the small hours. What if they kill her, Dino?’

  ‘Then you’ll finally acquire the command of your house.’

  Stephania stared back, one hand going to her throat, a frown drawing down her mouth. ‘It’s one thing to be estranged from one’s mother; it’s quite another to stand idle when she might be killed.’

  Dino shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  She glared at him. ‘Is now really the time to play the lonely Orfano?’

  ‘Play?’ The word writhed with disgust as it fell from his lips.

  ‘Dino, I’m telling you I’m worried for the safety of my mother.’

  ‘And I’m telling you that your mother will reap what she’s sown. If she has any sense she’ll stop this continued opposition to Anea and fall in line.’

  ‘Fall in line?’ Stephania’s eyes flashed with anger, lips curling with indignation. ‘Are we just supposed to follow mindlessly, like cattle?’

  ‘Your mother was a known ally of Duke Fontein.’

  ‘And that’s a sound enough reason for her to die?’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re being overdramatic?’

  ‘My mother didn’t send those three bravos to kill Anea.’

  ‘Know her that well, do you?’ Dino knew he should be trying to calm her but couldn’t stop the surge of frustration that had found a target.

  Stephania’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Look,’ he continued. ‘I’ve reason to believe her association with the capo is at an end. Perhaps now is the time to build some bridges with her. You might even suggest she hands power over to you. That would be an elegant solution.’

  ‘Before she ends up like Duke Fontein, you mean?’ Stephania turned on her heel and swept through the doorway into House Erudito. Dino stared after her regretting every word.

  ‘Your horse, my lord.’ It was Abramo. He held out the reins and flashed a glance at the retreating figure of Stephania. ‘She’s a spirited one.’

  ‘She gets it from her mother.’

  ‘I meant the horse,’ said the swordsman with a wry smile.

  ‘Of course you did,’ replied Dino, sliding one boot into a stirrup and swinging himself up.

  Abramo had taken hold of the bridle and looked up at Dino. ‘If I might make a observation, my lord.’

  Dino raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

  ‘A woman will forgive a man many things, but nothing wears down affection more quickly than being the target for anger undeserved.’

  Dino swallowed and cleared his throat. He nodded again. ‘It’s a well observed remark.’

  Abramo nodded in return, turned to
his own mount and took the saddle. Dino rolled his shoulders, willing the tension from them, his muscles taut ropes. His eyes never strayed far from the Contadino swordsman. Nardo and Massimo were paying the stable lad a few denari for his troubles. Massimo flashed a tight smile and a nod before urging his mount across the courtyard until he was beside the Orfano.

  ‘Stephania seemed agitated,’ he said. ‘Did you two fight?’

  ‘You make us sound like lovers.’ Dino scowled.

  ‘I could think of worse pairings.’ Massimo smiled and looked away.

  A leaden weariness overtook Dino’s heart. ‘I’m not sure I’m the marrying kind, Mass.’

  ‘Perhaps one day.’

  ‘Perhaps one day I’ll just leave this behind and live with the one I love near the coast. Just the two of us.’

  ‘And compose poetry? How idyllic,’ said Massimo. ‘Who knew Lord Erudito was such a romantic?’

  Finally the doors of the courtyard yawned open, four guards grunting with the strain.

  ‘Come on. She’ll still be here when you get back.’ Massimo winked. ‘You can argue some more then.’

  The riders set their mounts to a canter and followed the north-eastern road through Santa Maria.

  36

  A Day of Thorns

  – 18 Agosto 325

  ‘Some trouble with Lady Prospero?’ They had left the tight confines of the town and were heading along the road that led to the woodland behind the cemetery. Margravio Contadino had dropped back, drawing his mount alongside Dino, shrouded in thought.

  ‘My lord,’ Dino nodded. ‘She fears for her mother. A reasonable instinct under the circumstances.’

  Abramo and Marcell led the patrol, while Massimo rode alongside Nardo a few score feet ahead.

  ‘And Stephania turned to you to protect the duchess?’

  Dino nodded and released a sigh. Irritation plucked at him.

  ‘You’re quite indispensable, it seems.’

  ‘Only when people need a bodyguard.’ Dino scowled. The margravio turned his head sharply but said nothing.