The Master of Verona

by David Blixt

  Katerina turned her head. "Marianna, put Cesco in his crib. Luciana, please stoke the fires a little. Then you may both leave us. We shan't need you. If the fires require tending I shall prevail upon my guests."

  With a wary glance at the dark-skinned Moor, the nurse carried the child to a wooden crib with high barred walls. Little Cesco was up on his feet in a moment, holding onto the bars of his cage for support and reaching though the bars for Mercurio, who followed him. He'll be walking soon. Look at him. He isn't even wobbling.

  Both girls bowed their way out of the chamber, closing the doors firmly. Pietro heard them whispering as they walked down the corridor. Katerina said, "They're still upset about Nina. As are we all. Are you well?"

  "Quite well, lady. Thank you."

  "No, thank you." She set her loom aside. "Ser Alaghieri, you have taken several wounds for a cause that you don't understand. We are about to remedy that. It is time to bring you into our little circle. What we discuss now only five people in the world are aware of. My brother is one. The boy's mother is another. Ignazzio and Theodoro here. I myself. No one else — not my husband, no one — knows what we are going to tell you today."

  Pietro flushed. "I — I'm honoured."

  Katerina held up a warning hand. "There is a price. By hearing this, you will be obligated to help us shape future events. I don't put you under this obligation lightly, for an obligation it is. If you wish to decline hearing—"

  "Madonna," interrupted Ignazzio. "This is unfair. He will be incapable of saying no. He will also be unable to retreat before you, for fear of losing your respect. The stars have chosen him. Having been chosen, it is foolish to offer him escape. He will not take it, and the offer can do nothing but act as a salve for our consciences."

  "You are right, of course. Shall we begin?" Katerina lifted one scroll and handed it to Ignazzio. Placing a board across his lap, his fingers broke the honey-covered seal. It was hard work, because honey was prone to crumbling.

  At last Ignazzio unfurled the wide parchment on the makeshift desk and Pietro saw multicoloured lines, various signs of the zodiac, and several small notations in Greek and Latin. A star chart.

  "This was made this many years ago," said Ignazzio, "for a newborn son, the third son of Alberto della Scala by his wife."

  Pietro remembered Cangrande mentioning a star chart, and what that chart said. "Donna Katerina, your brother once told me he'd consulted Benentendi—"

  "Benentendi!" scoffed Ignazzio. "A charlatan! Why, he wouldn't—"

  Katerina cut across him. "Pietro, how much do you know of astrology?"

  "Some. My father insisted I have some formal training when I was younger."

  The astrologer gestured to the parchment before him. "This chart is plain and clear. Francesco della Scala — Cangrande to you — is destined for great things. Probably the most important of his aspects is the fact that Mars is in the house of Aries, which creates both his great skill as a leader and his recklessness, his need to prove himself in personal valour. Interesting, too, is the position of Saturn. It is also in Aries, one of the few contradictions in the Capitano's chart. In that placement, Saturn usually leads to a serious self-doubt in leaders. In the Scaliger it seems to have had an opposite effect, probably because it shares the house with Mars. It has led the Scaliger to reject fear in its entirety."

  "That is the thing I worry about most," observed Katerina. "He's never acknowledged fear."

  "That's hardly a fault, lady." Pietro noted that, unlike his master, the Moor was not looking at the chart. Instead, he watched Pietro. Unsettling.

  Ignazzio pointed to some lines for Pietro's benefit. "There are few sextiles, trines, and squares in his chart. Do you know what those are?"

  "It's geometry, isn't it? The angles of one planet to another at the time of birth?"

  "Correct. Different angles create different relationships between the planets. There were ten such relationships formed at the time of Cangrande's birth — fewer than normal. Most of them are minor — three trines, two conjunctions, three squares, one sextile, and one pure opposition. These last two are the most interesting. In Cangrande's chart, Mercury forms a sextile with Mars, giving him his sharp, strategic mind. But Mercury also forms an opposition with Uranus. He is aware of his talents, and must fight to retain his humility. It is interesting that Uranus, the creator of self-doubt, should have pushed this man so far in the other direction."

  Pietro detected an unvoiced laugh from Katerina. Himself, he was feeling uncomfortable, as if he were spying on Cangrande just by looking at this chart.

  The astrologer continued. "The Scaliger's sun sign is Pisces, the last sign of the Zodiac. It has created in him a strong sense of his stature. Not that he wishes to aggrandize himself, of course. More that — how to say — he wishes to receive his due."

  "That's only fair," said Pietro.

  Ignazzio rolled up the chart. "All in all, it is the chart of a capable, intelligent man with finite potential. Being finite, that potential will be achieved. My man Theodoro here was present at the hour of his birth, he took the signs personally. Cangrande will succeed martially and politically."

  "But no more," said Katerina, retrieving the scroll.

  "Then what he told me is true," murmured Pietro. "He's not the Greyhound."

  Katerina looked at him sharply. "He told you that? When?"

  "The night at the church, just before—" He paused, glancing at the Moor and the astrologer.

  "You may speak freely," said Katerina.

  "Just before Cesco's mother arrived."

  The lady clucked her tongue. "That night must have been harder on him than I supposed. Because it's true, Pietro. My brother is not Il Veltro."

  As understanding dawned, Pietro glanced over at the child standing in his crib, holding on to the bars to keep himself upright. Mercurio was curled up next to the bars of the crib.

  I know what you are, now, thought Pietro. Aloud he said, "Cesco is Il Veltro."

  "Yes," said Katerina.

  "And no," said the Moor.

  Antonia entered the Basilica of San Zeno shaking from head to toe. Not from cold, but excitement. As the sanctuary was empty save for some monks, she retreated into the attached garden beside the river. Here on a bench was a man with a dark beard, hunched against the biting wind.

  The long, almost beakish nose made her heart stop beating. Years of studying portraits had made her familiar with all her father's features. But that beard! Pietro had written of it, but she hadn't really expected something so huge and black that reached almost down to his breastbone.

  She nearly cried out and ran to him, but checked herself sharply. Compose yourself! He won't appreciate a little girl. Forcing a measured walk, she crossed to his side — not in front of him, which would have demanded attention — and stood quietly waiting for him to look up. He was writing. How wonderful! He was writing!

  For Dante's part, he was in the midst of penning the sixth canto of the new poem. Part of his mind registered the presence of a mortal being at his side, but she shared the space with Virgil and Sordello and the bulk of his attention was engaged in their meeting. After a time he glanced at her in annoyance. "I don't sign manuscripts," he said brusquely. "No matter what you may have been told."

  "I know, Pater."

  He continued to write, trying to banish the girl from his mind. Ella non ci dicëa alcuna cosa (she's still there) ma lasciavane gir (what was it she said?) solo sguardando a guisa di leon (she called me Pater — does she think I'm a priest?) quando si posa…

  His head came up and looked at the girl, squinting hard. Slowly he laid his quill aside. Nodding once, he said, "Well met, Beatrice."

  From that moment on, had he given her the back of his boot or berated her in the foulest terms imaginable, it would not have mattered. He'd already set the seal on the happiest day of Antonia's life.

  "What do you mean, yes and no?"

  Katerina said, "I believe he is."

 
Pietro looked at the Moor. "You're not sure?"

  Ignazzio answered for him. "It may be in his stars. It may not. Sadly, I was not present for his birth. None of us were." He took a newer scroll from Katerina and began the work of breaking the seal.

  Pietro pointed out an objection. "So why — I mean, why did we go to get him before a chart was even made?"

  Ignazzio gestured to Katerina. "I also created a chart for the lady when she was young. It was unequivocal. A child given into her care, a child that was not her own, would grow up to be Il Veltro."

  Pietro studied Katerina's composed face. "You thought it was your brother."

  "I hoped so."

  "So you raised him as if he were going to be the Greyhound."

  "Yes."

  "But you had his chart."

  Katerina's eyes grew flinty. "Is that an accusation?"

  "No! No, lady, I just… I'm just confused—"

  The Moor's voice rasped painfully out of the scarred throat. "The chart said he would be a great man within Italy."

  Katerina shook her head. "No, don't soften it. Pietro, I never told my brother he was the Greyhound. I never told him he wasn't. Because of his name, because of his extraordinary skill, people talked. If he listened, it is no fault of mine. I raised him, Pietro, as I saw fit. I believe I was successful. He reached his potential and more. If he assumed he was the mythic hero, it did no harm."

  No harm? A man raised to believe himself a creature of destiny, only to discover his destiny belonged to another. It was a miracle he hadn't turned out to be a monster.

  Katerina's lips turned down. "You will be gratified to learn the noble astrologer and his major domo here disagreed with me. When Francesco turned fifteen he was shown this chart, against my express wishes. After that, my relationship with my brother became somewhat — strained." Rising, she crossed to a brazier and prodded it with a poker. "But if that is the price I must pay, I will. It has always been my opinion that we must take an active hand in our fates. I intend to raise Cesco in the same manner I raised my brother — as if he were the Greyhound. If it proves not to be true, as it did with Cangrande, again there is no harm done." She used to poker to point at the new parchment now spread over Ignazzio's lap. "But look at it, Pietro. Look."

  Pietro did. Immediately he could tell there was something wrong about it. Painted lines crossed each other, as in Cangrande's chart, but double thick, and double in number. This was because so many of the planets shared the same positions. The sun, Mercury, and Venus were all in the first house, clustered together. The latter two formed strong relationships with the moon, which was in Aries, while the sun formed a sextile with Leo. Other lines criss-crossed the chart, forming oddly beautiful geometrical patterns. He suddenly wished he knew more about the subject.

  Ignazzio nodded. "Odd, is it not? Such clustering is rare."

  "What does it mean?"

  "It means that this person's character is full of contradictory impulses. The child's sun is in Gemini, ruled by Mercury, which is also in his first house. His personality, therefore, resonates with the traits of that planet. He will be restless, and will dabble in all manner of trades and experiences. He will be free, swift as quicksilver. He will prize his wit above all else.

  "But then there is the moon — the first contradiction. It is in his eleventh house, in Aries, and also forms a strong relationship with Mercury. He will not be ruled by reason, but by dreams. It will cause unbalance in his emotions. He will be detached from them, as if in conflict between his mind and his heart. But because of the moon's similar relationship with Jupiter, he will suffer from an excess of emotion. Among the many ill-effects that may cause, the worst is that it may — may — dampen his ambition."

  Pietro again glanced at the child in the crib who was paying no attention to the adults, fiddling with the bars on the far side of the crib, pulling at them and swinging himself back and forth, teasing the hound who jumped about with delight.

  Ignazzio drew Pietro's attraction back to the chart, tracing a finger along one line much interwoven with those about it. "Let us look at his own planet, Mercury. It was in Cancer at the hour of his birth, and in his first house. The sign will cause him to be extremely susceptible to outside influences. The house will make him adapt quickly to any situation…"

  Sign by sign, house by house, they went through the child's chart. Pietro was amazed at the number of times the words willful, inventive, intuitive, witty, quick, and aggressive came up. But always were the warnings that pitfalls lay in the realm of emotion. Temperamental. Anxious. High-strung. Fickle. He would suffer from periods of extreme apathy. He would have difficulty choosing any single path. Prolonged relationships with anyone were problematic, most notably his relations with women. Venus was especially dangerous to the child as he grew to manhood. There were three deep loves, but only one marriage. As with them all, he had to use his strong will to dominate these faults within him, or else fall victim to their influences.

  Behind them all was Mercury.

  "Here you are," said the astrologer, pointing at a symbol.

  Pietro straightened. "Me?"

  "At least, I believe this is you. You have saved his life. If I am correct, you have a lasting influence on him. You are destined to be a major part of his life." Sitting back, Ignazzio sent a quick glance to the Moor. "That concludes the basics. There is nothing," he emphasized, "to indicate he will not overcome these faults. But there are many pitfalls before the child. More by far than the Capitano ever owned." A finger unfurled to trace a spot on the chart as yet untouched. "Now we move on to portents of the day itself. As you may have heard, there were many favorable omens when the Scaliger was born. Theodoro observed them. But no one here was present for the birth of this child. Nor have we been able to find a reliable witness to the events of that night."

  "When was he born?" asked Pietro.

  Katerina had taken up her loom again. "He was born in the middle of the night, in Padua, on the Ides of June."

  The astrologer continued. "I arrived in Venice at the start of the Roman year. I first made my way to Vicenza to interview the lady and meet the child. I then set out for Padua, where I interviewed several men in my own profession. I have been unable to create a clear picture in my mind as to the movements of the lesser stars that night. Several observers have said that a star fell from right to left — that is, east to west — at about the hour of the boy's birth. That would be a great omen, one of the finest the boy could have. This chart is based on that observation. It creates stability for all these contradictions and amplifies his traits. He will thrive. He will attain a greatness unknown in this land since the Caesars. I have no doubt that if that was the omen, the child will find nothing but success."

  Katerina said, "Based on that chart, he will certainly be the Greyhound."

  Pietro heard an unspoken omission. "I take it that isn't all there is to say."

  "No," said Katerina, lowering her loom to hand across the final parchment. "There is another side to the coin."

  Ignazzio spoke as his nails scrabbled at the last seal. "That last chart was based on the reports that the star had fallen from east to west. I have one man whose opinion I trust more than the others. He insists that a star did cross the sky that night, at that hour. But he swears that it passed from west to east." He unfurled the final scroll. "This is the chart based on that report."

  The houses and planets were all the same as in the last chart, but the relationships were subtly changed. Lines crossed at stranger angles. All the green and blue lines of the last chart had become red and yellow.

  "How is that possible?" asked Pietro. He'd never been so interested in astrology in all his life. "The planets didn't move."

  "They didn't have to move. This falling star changed their meaning. Take Aries in the twelfth house. On the former chart it would cause him to be placid, slow to anger. That was based on the movement of the star coming from the east. But here," he pointed to the symbol of Aries on the c
hart, "his anger grows irrational. The house does not move, nor do the stars. But their influence is altered dramatically." He went through and showed a dozen places where the change of direction created differing interpretations. In each instance, where in the last chart the darker impulses were overcome, here they were dominant.

  "The core elements remain the same," the astrologer concluded. "He will be a leader of men, a warrior of surpassing excellence, a thinker. But who he will lead, whom he will fight for, and what he will think are uncertain."

  "All because we can't determine the direction of the star that crossed the sky that night?"

  "Yes."

  "Is there any way to tell which it was?"

  The Moor said, "We wait and see."

  As the scrolls were furled for resealing, Katerina gazed intently at Pietro. "I want to see this child's future be the brighter of the two laid out here. Do you agree?"

  "Of course. But what can I do?"

  "Just know, Pietro. You are in his chart. You are a part of his life. You have to know what is at stake. The Greyhound is destined to usher in a new age of Man. Cangrande is not the Greyhound. Cesco is — or may be."

  Pietro had to ask. "Does the Capitano know I'm here?"

  Katerina frowned slightly. "My brother and I disagree about how destiny is created. He wants the boy to find his own way, and for us to simply allow this to happen. I disagree. I think we should act in every way as if the first of those charts is the correct one. We should foster all the good traits in him, and sharply curtail the lesser ones. It is what your father says — we must actively interpret the stars." Pietro opened his mouth, and Katerina said, "The answer is no, Pietro. He does not know we have told you."

  Pietro thought for a few moments. "Is there any way the kidnapper could know? Is this connected to the murder of the oracle?"

  "You heard her prophecy," said Katerina. "A tortured youth who will cause Verona's destruction? She was paid to say it, so I have no fear about it coming to pass. But her allusion to a child indicates that someone knows how important Cesco will be. The question is who."