Fires of the Faithful

by Naomi Kritzer

  “Yes,” I said. “Thank you.” I took his arm, and he tucked my hand snugly against his side. He led me back down the stairs, through a series of corridors and finally into his study.

  The meal was silent and uncomfortable. Teleso sat behind a massive carved desk, staring at me for most of the meal. I sat on the other side, my bowl on the very edge of the desk. I stared at my food to avoid looking at Teleso, eating quickly to get through the meal as soon as I could. The dress made me feel exposed.

  There was a sharp rap at the door as I was finishing the last of my bread. It was one of Teleso’s officers, a dark-haired man with a face like a weasel. Teleso stepped over to the door for a hasty quiet conference. “Duty calls,” he said, returning to the desk. “I’ll have the maid show you to your room.” He rang for Arianna.

  Alone in my room again, I alternated between practicing and pacing. Struck by a sudden worry, I checked the bed, but my tunic and trousers were where I’d left them. They really were filthy. There was a basin of water in the room, along with a bar of perfumed soap, so I decided to wash them. The midnight blue velvet was not exactly suited to washerwoman’s work, but wearing it hadn’t been my idea. Still, I rolled up my sleeves and worked carefully so as not to splash water on myself. It was awkward and slow, but I managed to get out the worst of the dirt. I wrung out most of the water, but needed to leave them to dry somewhere that Teleso wouldn’t see them and order them removed. I checked under the bed—no dust. Arianna was a thorough housekeeper. Hiking the velvet over my knees to avoid crushing it, I spread the belt, tunic, and trousers under the bed to dry.

  I was arranging the trousers when there was a knock at the door. I jumped, knocking my head on the underside of the bed before managing to crawl out, gritting my teeth and rubbing the back of my head. “Come in,” I said, trying to smooth out the dress with my other hand.

  I was expecting Arianna, but it was a soldier, wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up to half cover his face. He closed the door gently behind him and flipped back the hood. It was Mario.

  “Hello,” I said, startled.

  “I have a message for you,” Mario said in a low voice, and held out a folded slip of paper. I hesitated. “Take it!” he said. “I can’t stay here. It’s from Lucia.”

  Still rubbing my head where I’d bumped it, I took the note, staring at him. “Are you all right?” he asked, lingering a moment longer.

  I shrugged. “The food is better and the bed is softer. But—” I shook my head.

  Mario gave me a crooked smile. “It will all be all right.” He slipped the door open a crack and poked his head out to look for anyone coming. He gave me one more reassuring smile and left, closing the door behind him.

  Alone in the room again, I sat down on the bed to read my letter. It was just a tiny piece of parchment, folded neatly. Lucia had drawn an X at the top. The letter was written in a beautiful, graceful script, but with the flourishes cut short. Eliana, the letter read. You must persuade Teleso to allow us to hold a funeral, and to allow you to play. This is our chance. This is what Beneto was waiting for. I have faith in you. By the grace of God, Lucia. In smaller letters at the bottom: Burn this when read.

  I held the note a moment longer, as if by pressing it I would somehow feel Lucia touching my hand. Then I burned it to ash in one of the candles, and washed my hands in the basin.

  The room was big enough for me to pace. What was going on outside these walls? I wished Lucia had sent me a longer letter. Was Rafi doing better? She hadn’t said. I shook my head, wondering how I ever spent all those years at the conservatory. I’d only been shut up in here for a day and I was going mad, not knowing what was happening outside the walls.

  I pulled over a chair and climbed up to look out the window again. At the very edge of the piazza, I saw Lucia. She stood quietly, her hands clasped, looking at the keep. Looking for me—I was sure of that, but there was no way she could see me through my tiny window, not from that distance. I tucked my violin under my chin and played for her, hoping that the notes would carry. Lucia remained where she was, silently keeping her vigil.

  Who will lead us now? Lucia’s question from last night rang in my ears. After staring across the piazza at Lucia for a long time, I climbed down off the chair. Giovanni was next in line to lead, I realized, and shuddered. God help us all. I tried to concentrate on some études, but my mind kept wandering. Lucia would be a far better leader than Giovanni, but I knew that she wouldn’t do it—she believed that her calling was elsewhere. Isabella, perhaps? Rafi? None of them would be able to claim the popular support that Beneto and Jesca had built up, I knew that much. Especially not Giovanni.

  Ravenna was in deep shadow when Teleso swung my door open. “Good evening,” he said with a smile. “Would you care to join me downstairs for supper?” He offered me his arm, then led me back down to the dining room.

  The meal was more hectic tonight. The weasel-faced officer I’d seen before was in and out throughout the meal. Teleso spoke to him quietly, glancing at me a few times to see if I was listening. I lowered my eyes to my plate and tried to look uninterested, tipping my head slightly to hear as much as I could.

  “—could be a good chance. They’re all angry. Men couldn’t object—”

  “Yes, signore. As you say—”

  “It’s well past time.”

  “As you say, signore.”

  Teleso’s deputy left, and Teleso gestured to the servant to refill his wineglass. “Troublemakers,” he said to me. “All of them.”

  I took a sip of my wine. “The refugees?” I asked.

  “And the soldiers,” Teleso said. He drained his wineglass. “Lucia is demanding to be allowed to hold a funeral, with everyone in Ravenna attending.” He gestured to the servant, then jerked the wine bottle away and filled his own glass, banging the bottle down to the table. “I’ll have to deal with her.”

  “A funeral—” I started to say. How was I supposed to persuade him to hold one?

  “—Isn’t a bad idea, really,” Teleso said. “Make the refugees happy. What will they have to complain about then? You’ll play the funeral dance for them, of course.” He drained his glass.

  “Yes, signore,” I said. That was easier than I’d expected.

  Teleso filled his glass again. “The trouble is,” he said, “the bastards won’t shoot unless there’s trouble.”

  “Who won’t shoot?” I asked.

  “Bastards downstairs who call themselves soldiers. I’ll have you play for them too.”

  “All right,” I said. “Now?”

  “No, not now!” he snarled. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re supposed to play for me now. So stop talking. Did you bring your violin?”

  “Not to supper,” I said. “It’s still up in my room.”

  “Well, go get it,” he said. “Bring it to my study. I’ll wait for you there.” He rang for Arianna and rose, stumbling slightly. Arianna escorted me upstairs to get my violin, but when I brought it back down to Teleso’s study he was snoring in his chair.

  I edged over to his desk, treading softly on the rug. His eyes were shut, and he was drooling slightly in his sleep. I reached out one hand to shake him, then thought the better of it. As I was pulling my hand away, I noticed the papers on his desk. Teleso had pulled some papers out to work on while waiting for me. I glanced at him again, but he was still drooling, his eyes closed. I hesitated for a moment, afraid he’d wake suddenly. He seemed pretty drunk, though. I picked up the papers.

  The top paper was difficult to decipher; it seemed to be a page from a ledger, with calculations scribbled down the side. I realized after studying it for a moment that it was a reckoning of how much grain Ravenna had left, and how much this allowed per person until the next shipment. I could barely make out the numbers, but I could tell there wasn’t much grain to go around. I slipped the paper back onto his desk and went onto the next one.

  It was a letter from his superiors in Cuore. In receipt of your letter … Regre
t to say that supplements will be impossible at this time. Supplementary food? No, reading further, they meant supplementary soldiers. Advise you to make the most of the men currently under your command. The letter became steadily more patronizing. At the bottom, in the cramped handwriting of the ledger scrawl, was the single word, bastards. Teleso’s frustrations, most likely.

  The final page was a list: Beneto. Jesca. Lucia. Isabella. Rafi. Michel. Giovanni. Mario. There were other names on the list, people I didn’t know. Tomas. Regillo. Petro. There was a small check mark next to Beneto and Jesca’s names. Lucia’s name was circled.

  Teleso snorted loudly and I shoved the papers back and reached across the desk as he opened his eyes. “Signore?” I said, touching his arm. “Are you sure you want me to play for you? I think you need sleep more than music right now.”

  “Surely,” he said. His eyes were bleary as he stood up and rang for the servant. “You’re right. Good night, then.” I gathered up my violin and headed for the door.

  “Eliana,” Teleso said, and I froze in my tracks. “Tomorrow night. We’ll hold the funeral. You’ll play.” Arianna appeared in the doorway, and Teleso waved me off. “Sleep well,” he said.

  Arianna had to help me undress for bed. She was less shy in the flickering candlelight as she unwound the beads from my hair and unbuttoned the long row of buttons down the back of the dress. “This dress is ridiculous,” I said.

  “It’s a lovely dress,” she said.

  “It’s a ridiculous dress. I can’t do anything in it.” I craned my neck to look over my shoulder at Arianna.

  “You managed,” she said, glancing significantly toward my still-damp laundry hidden under the bed.

  “This dress is making me miss those stupid robes we had to wear at the conservatory,” I said. “Those sleeves just got in the way. These don’t want to let me move.” I paused, but she didn’t answer. “Are you almost done?”

  “Yes, signora.” She helped me step out of the dress, then hung it up neatly as I pulled the linen nightdress over my head.

  “I can put this on by myself,” I said, when she turned to look at me.

  “Yes, signora,” she said, but didn’t leave.

  I straightened the nightdress as she stood looking at me. Finally I asked, “Is there something you need?”

  “Would you play your violin for me?” she asked, then bit her lip and looked down. “I haven’t gotten to hear you play.”

  “Oh!” I blinked in surprise. “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry to ask you so late at night. During the day, I’m busy all the time, so I never get to sit and listen. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  I took her by the shoulders. “Arianna. Sit down. I’ll play for you.” I pushed her gently into the chair she’d sat me in earlier, to braid my hair, then took out my violin and tuned up. “Any requests?”

  “Something old,” she whispered, so I nodded and played the Redentore healing music. She didn’t dance, but closed her eyes to listen, rocking back and forth with the music. The minor notes echoed off the stone hearth; the sweet chords were swallowed by the tapestries on the walls. I closed my eyes, hearing something I didn’t quite recognize in my own playing, just a faint echo, like the lingering taste of honey.

  When I finished, Arianna sat with her eyes closed for a bit longer, and for a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Good night.” She left without another word. I realized suddenly how tired I was. I put my violin away, then curled up under the covers of the bed. The room seemed quieter tonight than it had last night. I slept soundly, except for the sense that I needed Mira, or Giula, or Lucia sleeping near my side.

  Arianna arrived the next morning just as I was getting up. She had a tray with porridge—a larger bowl than yesterday—and tea. While I ate, she brought in hot water for me to wash myself, along with a soft robe to put on when I had finished. “I’ll come back to help you dress,” she said.

  “Not the damn dress again,” I said, but she was gone.

  I finished my tea and porridge, and considered resisting. Arianna couldn’t physically force me to put the dress on; she was smaller than I was, and anyway it would ruin the dress. Then I thought about her fear yesterday and wondered if Teleso would punish her for my rebellion, if I refused to put it on. I checked under the bed; my clothes were still there, but damp, since they weren’t hanging up. I turned them over to give the damp side more air, then shrugged and stood up. I had washed myself some yesterday, but she’d brought enough water for me to wash much more thoroughly, and sleeping on white linen sheets had made me realize how dirty I still was. Besides, steam rose invitingly from the basin. I washed my hands and face, then pulled my nightdress over my head to wash the rest of my body.

  The door banged open and I whirled, snatching up the robe to hold it in front of myself. Teleso stood in the doorway, smiling slyly. “Go away!” I said.

  Instead, he closed the door behind him. “Good morning, Eliana,” he said. Unfortunately, he did not look hung over at all.

  Since I’d have to expose myself to put the robe on properly, I slipped it on backward, then tied it in the back. “Go away,” I said again. “I’m still getting dressed.”

  “I can see that,” he said. He advanced on me, and I backed away. “You know,” he said, “the Redentori have the most curious customs. They believe that a girl shouldn’t lie with a man until they’re married. Now, how do they know if the Lady approves of their marriages? But you aren’t Redentore, are you? You just like the music.”

  “Yes I am,” I said. “I’ve been sealed. I’m one of them.”

  “But you haven’t been for long,” he said. “Their customs are not yours.”

  “I have been at the conservatory,” I said. “I wasn’t even allowed to talk to boys, Lady’s blessing or not, not even at Midsummer.”

  Teleso had backed me into a corner. “Eliana, I could make your life here a great deal easier,” he breathed.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “You should want to be my friend.”

  “I’m not sure I like the price of your friendship,” I said. Teleso might not look hung over, but he smelled it; his breath reeked of stale wine.

  He was about to reply when the door flew open. “You rang, signore?” Arianna said from the doorway.

  “No,” he snapped, but she came in anyway.

  “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” I hadn’t previously seen Arianna quite so relentlessly cheerful. She started making up my bed, apparently oblivious to the fact that Teleso still had me trapped in the corner. “Signore Teleso, Lieutenant Romolo says he needs to see you.”

  “Thank you, Arianna,” he said. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She hesitated and he turned to glare at her. “Go and tell him I’m coming.”

  It was clearly a dismissal, and she backed slowly out of the room. I tried to pull farther back into the corner as he turned slowly around to face me again, but he said only, “Think it over.” He straightened, turned around, and left.

  I still wanted to wash, but I was afraid he’d come barging into the room again. I shoved a chair over to block the door and did my best to wash without ever taking off the robe. My face was hot, and it wasn’t from the water. When I was done, I pulled the nightdress and robe back on and tied them securely before I moved the chair away from the door.

  Arianna was back shortly after that, biting her lip and avoiding my eyes. My hands shook as she buttoned me into the dress. “I don’t want to wear this,” I said, but she didn’t answer.

  She sat me down when she was done buttoning me up, and braided my hair. “Arianna,” I said, “what does he want from me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Have other women stayed here?”

  “One other.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “He tired of her company.”

  “And?”

  “And she returned to Ravenna,” Ari
anna said, but I shook my head, not sure I believed her. “Hold still,” she said. “I’m almost done.”

  “Do you know Mario?” I asked.

  Arianna paused for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve met him.” Her manner was guarded, but she couldn’t quite hide the softness that came into her voice when she spoke about the kind soldier. I sat back, satisfied to have gotten that much out of her. Arianna finished tying the ends of my braids, and came around front to inspect the results. “Teleso wants you to join him for dinner again,” she said. “He’ll be here soon.”

  “At least I’m dressed now,” I said, and she nodded, still not meeting my eyes.

  Dinner was quiet. I sipped wine from the fragile-looking glass and nibbled. I didn’t have much of an appetite today. Weasel-face didn’t come in. Teleso dismissed the servants as we finished the meal. “So,” he said. “How have you been enjoying my hospitality?”

  “You have been very generous,” I said.

  “Is the food to your liking?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your room?” he asked.

  “Very grand,” I said. “Much grander than I’m used to.”

  “Do you like the dress?” He gestured with his wineglass. He was drinking more slowly today.

  “No,” I said.

  Teleso’s face grew sullen. He took a sip of wine and brightened a bit. “I keep the guest room empty most of the time,” he said. “You could have that room permanently, if you like.” He looked at me expectantly.

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  “What do you mean? Don’t you want it?”

  “Not without knowing the price,” I said.

  “There is no price,” he said.

  “Everything has a price.”

  “Really,” he said. “Including you?” He stared at me across the table with his cold, hard eyes and I found myself flushing with fury and shame. I straightened up in my chair and returned the fiercest glare I could. He chuckled slightly and rose, advancing on my end of the table.

  “Don’t you want to be my friend, Eliana?” he asked.