The Master of Verona

by David Blixt

  Pietro had been in the Domus Nuova only twice before. It was rare that Cangrande used this chamber for anything but business of state. For internal communal affairs he favored his loggia or the offices he kept in the Giurisconsulti. But today Cangrande had to deal out justice, and be seen to do so.

  "What of our rights?" Capulletto was shouting. "Are we not as worthy of the protection of the law as the lowest citizen of this nation? Does an ancient line have more rights than one new to the state? Have we not proved our worth here? If there is any who deserves favor in the eyes of Verona's fathers, it is my son. Antony rode to Verona's defense before he was even a citizen. He earned his citizenship with his blood — blood spilled beneath the walls of Vicenza!" He was speaking well — he'd obviously spent time in the courts. As advocate or client? Pietro wondered.

  As the 'Little Capuan' (Apt, Father!) railed on, Pietro turned his gaze to Cangrande. If the Capitano was angry, he didn't show it. Every few moments he would lean right to discuss something with Passerino Bonaccolsi, and once he conversed with Il Grande, seated on the Scaliger's left.

  One august personage Cangrande did not consult was Gargano Montecchio. The father of the "bride-thief" sat rigidly on a bench with the other nobles of the city. No one spoke to him, nor would they until the Capitano made his ruling on the affair. Last night he was full of joy, thought Pietro sadly. Now he's aged a thousand years. Damn it, Mari!

  Among the cluster of Capulletti, Ludovico was spitting mad. Standing behind him, Antony's brother looked unperturbed, perhaps even a little smug. As for Antony himself, his face was blank, eyes glazed, a slight crease across his forehead as if he couldn't get his mind around it. Until he did, there was no room for anger. Just shock and confusion.

  Ludovico had enough outrage for them both. "Was not my son knighted by the Scaliger's own hand just yesterday? Did he not race valiantly in the horse Palio? And was he not inches away from winning the foot Palio when the bride-thief got in his way? Did not the Scaliger himself confer upon our family the right to an ancient and respected title? Is this the show of favoritism Verona grants its citizens? To have wives and daughters stolen away, married off to foppish youths who bathe in perfume?!" He was no longer speaking to the Scaliger. He was playing to the crowd, trying to swing public opinion his family's way.

  It did not appear that Capulletto would run himself out any time soon, so when he stopped to hack his phlegm into a napkin the Scaliger spoke. "We are, as you have pointed out, aware of all this, Monsignor Capulletto. I assure you, I am not staying my hand in this matter. I only wait for the parties involved to arrive. In the meantime," he said, raising his eyes to the crowd, "I have a decree. As in the days when my honoured father served this state as Capitano del Populo and Podestà of the Merchants, from this time forward private dueling is forbidden." There was an unhappy murmur in the crowd. "The settling of quarrels may not be determined by the sword, but must be litigated through the courts! This is not just true within the city walls, but in all the lands under Veronese stewardship!"

  Pietro saw the purpose at once. Cangrande wanted no fresh outbreaks of feuding between families in his territories. The law his brother Bartolomeo had repealed a dozen years before to allow the final duel in the Capelletti-Montecchi feud was once more enacted. Those sharing family names could not exact revenge for wrongs to their kin. This struck Pietro as a cruel twist of fate. Father was right. Ignazzio said it too. Even Mari's father. Names have power.

  But Cangrande's new law went further, entirely ruling out trial by combat as a legal remedy. Several lawyers piped up to ask questions. Not that they were angry. Quite the contrary, it was a boon for their practices. If trial by combat was illegal, citizens would have no recourse but to hire lawyers to settle their differences.

  Shouting down the lawyers, Ludovico raised an objection. "You're doing this to stop my son from regaining his honour!"

  Cangrande shook his head. "No, I am making sure of the safety of my citizens. I am also protecting the honour of your son, and your family. You were not here, Monsignor Capulletto, when there was a feud inside Verona's walls. The participants put the public good aside in order to redeem what they mistakenly believed to be their honour. But their honour suffered far greater stains from the public hazards they caused than any slights, real or otherwise, from another family. This law will protect all our citizens, in a number of ways."

  Ludovico wasn't done objecting, but a clamour outside forestalled him. All eyes came up as six Veronese soldiers entered clad in their best armour. Between them strode Marsilio da Carrara. Chin high, he ignored the collected Veronese nobles to lock eyes with the Scaliger. Though his face was composed, there was a hint of a smirk playing across his face.

  Before addressing Marsilio, Cangrande turned to Il Grande. "Giacomo da Carrara. This young man is your nephew, and not a citizen of Verona. Do you consent to his being questioned in this matter here and now, or would you rather he be questioned in a Paduan court?"

  Giacomo leaned forward. "As his actions have implications for the honour of my family, he must be questioned as soon as possible. I trust both in your wisdom, lord Capitano, and in that of your noble Veronese councilors. Let him be questioned in Verona!" As the crowd's murmur of approval died away, he added, "I might put a question or two to him myself."

  "As you wish." Cangrande turned the full weight of his gaze on Marsilio. "Ser Carrara, there is a story circulating that you witnessed a marriage this morning between your cousin, the lady Gianozza della Bella, and Ser Mariotto Montecchio."

  "I did more than witness it," said Marsilio. "I gave the bride away."

  The Capitano ignored the hushed mutterings of the crowd and the not-so-hushed voice of Ludovico Capulletto. "I see. You did this knowing that both your uncle and the girl's father had arranged another match for her?"

  "I did."

  "Where did this marriage take place?"

  "At the private chapel of the Montecchi, in their grand estates east of Illasi."

  "Who officiated?"

  "Some Franciscan monk. I heard Montecchio call him Brother Lorenzo."

  Pietro recalled the good-looking young friar he'd met yesterday, the one who was embarrassed about being French. Cangrande glanced at the Franciscan bishop, who looked grave. "To clarify, Ser Carrara — when you say Montecchio, you mean Cavaliere, not Monsignore."

  "Correct. I don't think Lord Montecchio knew anything about it," said Marsilio, smiling at the ashen-faced figure of Mariotto's father.

  Damned gracious of him, thought Pietro bitterly, admitting what's clear to anyone with eyes!

  Cangrande continued. "What do you know about this couple?"

  "I know that before last night neither of them had laid eyes on one another."

  "Do you know what happened last night?"

  "She told me they — talked." Carrara's tone implied more than his words.

  The mob shifted. Pietro wondered why the Scaliger didn't dismiss them. He could get to the bottom of this much more quickly without their interruptions. Then Pietro realized that if this were to be defused, it would have to be in public. Rumours had to be put to rest.

  "We have no use for innuendo, Ser Carrara. Define your terms, please."

  "Forgive me. Ser Montecchio read to the girl, from the latest work of your resident poet, Maestro Dante Alaghieri."

  Oh Christ. Without thinking Pietro joined the crowd in looking towards his father, who was standing between Poco and a short, stern-looking girl. Dante had the good sense not to react in any way. Pietro couldn't help thinking, Well, it will probably help sales.

  Cangrande brought the crowd's attention back by asking, "Then what happened?"

  "They fell in love," said Marsilio simply.

  "And how did you become a party to their affections?"

  "She told me early this morning."

  "What did you say in response?"

  The crowd pressed forward to listen to Carrara's answer. "I said that if she truly loved this young
man, she should marry him."

  Ludovico made some burbling sounds of indignation. The Scaliger paused for a long moment. "So marriage between them was your idea."

  "Love is a rare commodity these days. It should not go unnourished."

  "You felt it was your responsibility to nourish this couple's affection."

  "Exactly. I felt it my knightly duty."

  "I may be a little rusty," said Cangrande without a trace of humour, "but I do not recall fostering love as one of a cavaliere's duties."

  "Does the great Capitano wish me to refresh his memory?"

  "I pray you, do."

  Marsilio's back was spear-straight. "The rules of courtly love are explicit. 'No one should be deprived of love without the very best of reasons.' Rule Eight."

  "And a contract of marriage between your family and the noble Capulletti household is not reason enough?"

  "No formal betrothal ever took place. I felt — and still feel — that a love as rare and pure as that between my cousin and Ser Montecchio is worth a dozen such alliances."

  As Ludovico snarled, Cangrande said, "You spoke with the young man, assured yourself of his honest intentions?"

  "I visited him early this morning. I found him to be of good character. Rule Eighteen. 'Good character alone —"

  "— makes any man worthy of love,'" Cangrande finished for him. His eyes were narrowed.

  "I also found him to be jealous of her betrothal. He had not eaten since laying eyes on her, nor had he slept."

  "I trust he was not vexed by too much passion," said Cangrande with heavy irony.

  "No, my lord."

  "Did you consult the girl's betrothed? Perhaps the same could have been said of him."

  "He was not the object of the girl's affection, my lord Capitano," said Marsilio, bowing his head in mock obeisance.

  Pietro saw Antony sag slightly. So he is listening. Too bad.

  "Ser Capulletto's feelings on the matter did not weigh in your mind?"

  Marsilio shook his head. "They did, my noble lord. But then I recalled the last rule of Courtly Love — 'Nothing forbids one woman from being loved by two men.'"

  Cangrande pursed his lips. "I suppose the real question, Marsilio da Carrara, is why did you not consult your uncle? He is the paterfamilias, the head of your line. He had made the arrangements for the girl's wedding. Should he not have been consulted?"

  "He was closeted with your lordship this morning, discussing matters of state," said Marsilio. "I did not feel it appropriate to disturb you both for a private family matter. As for needing my uncle's approbation, my uncle has repeatedly told me that I should be more interested in family affairs. I was trying to solve this problem in a way that would best honour my ancestors."

  "I see. And why such haste?"

  "The girl was going to be betrothed at supper this evening. I wanted to resolve this unfortunate conflict before it went any further. Once the formal betrothal had taken place, it would have been more difficult for the girl to extricate herself from an unwanted arrangement."

  Antony flinched again. Cangrande said, "So you moved to forestall that event by marrying her off."

  "To the man she loves," confirmed Marsilio. "Amor ordinem nescit."

  Giacomo da Carrara said, "My lord, may I?" Cangrande nodded, and Il Grande turned to his nephew. "What makes you believe this young man was worthy?"

  Marsilio blinked. "I thought that would be obvious, uncle. He is from an ancient house, full of honour. His ancestors have been consuls and podestàs, a few of them even emissaries and citizens of Padua. His family estates are almost at the border between Padua and Verona, just south of Vicenza. I thought it a good symbol for our two cities to be united through such an alliance. As for the man himself, I have seen him on the field of war. He is brave and noble. During the race yesterday he was every ounce what a knight should be."

  Pietro was unable to contain himself any longer. "You tried to kill him!" The ugly smirk Marsilio turned on him goaded Pietro on. "Both at Vicenza and during the Palio!"

  Marsilio's answer was humble. "At Vicenza we were at war. I assume he would have killed me had the chance arisen. As for yesterday, we rode as we should have — in competition. Many knights lost their lives. It is his credit that he didn't."

  "They lost their lives thanks to you!" cried Pietro.

  Carrara shook his head sadly and looked at Cangrande. "I don't know what he's talking about."

  Pietro was about to shout again but Cangrande interrupted. "Ser Alaghieri, you are not on the city council. Your rights as a knight allow you to proclaim a formal hearing, if you so choose."

  Marsilio spoke before Pietro could reply. "My lord, young Alaghieri is obviously unwell, to make such accusations. The collision that caused so many noble Veronese to lose their lives was an accident. You said so yourself."

  "Are you calling me a liar?" asked Pietro hotly.

  Marsilio gazed at him pityingly. "I say you are mistaken. You've taken one too many knocks to the head. No doubt your leg keeps you from ducking in time."

  Pietro twisted, facing the Scaliger. "To prove the truth of my words, I challenge him to—"

  "No!" Cangrande fixed Pietro with a hard look. "Perhaps you didn't hear my earlier dictate, Cavaliere. There is no more recourse to the Court of Swords." His eyes swept the whole crowd. "Let me make this clear. Dueling is illegal. Anyone caught dueling will be exiled from Verona's walls, denied food and fire in all of my lands. That is one choice. I also reserve the right to declare summary execution for the offense of dueling. In this warlike time, I will not see the future nobles of my lands cut down in the haste of youth!"

  His eyes scanned for any possible dissent. Seeing none, Cangrande returned to the Paduan. "Marsilio da Carrara, both times you saw young Montecchio in action he was in the company of this young man," he indicated Antony. "Is he not as qualified as his friend?"

  "Ser Capulletto is brave, no doubt, my lord," said Marsilio. "But I felt he lacked a certain — well, a certain quality that only the nobility can recognize. He lacks the true spirit of chivalry. That is only my opinion, of course."

  Pietro groaned inwardly. Here in this chamber the assemblage was made up of men of noble descent. Exclusivity was their passion. Newly made nobles like the Capulletti were necessary evils at best. There was no argument Carrara could have used that would score him more points. He was winning the crowd by preying on their prejudices.

  Clearly thinking along the same lines as Pietro, Cangrande dismissed Marsilio to one side, effectively silencing the Paduan. The Scaliger called forward the Franciscan bishop and asked after the credentials of this Friar Lorenzo.

  "The fault is mine, lord Capitano," confessed Bishop Francis. "This young Paduan knight called upon our order this morning, and I told Lorenzo to provide any service Ser Carrara might require. He was only following my instructions." Francis looked stern. "It goes without saying, I knew nothing of any marriage. But if anyone is to be punished for the Church's role in this, let it be me."

  "That won't be necessary," said Cangrande. "Still, we must speak to this Lorenzo and discover if there were any irregularities in the —"

  He was interrupted by a flurry of movement at the back of the crowd. Whispers became muffled exclamations of "They're here!" and "Look at her!" The rows of nobles parted to make way for Mariotto Montecchio and his bride, Gianozza.

  They were a stunning couple. Though they must have known they were walking into a lion's den, nothing could penetrate the armour of their delight. The girl positively glowed. Walking to her right, Mariotto was dignified, straight and sure of his step. What Marsilio's exclusivity argument had begun, their appearance clinched. No one in that crowd could deny that, as a couple, they were perfection.

  Marsilio da Carrara was grinning broadly. Nothing would have given Pietro greater pleasure than making the Paduan eat that smirk. Pietro knew Mari's mettle. Mari would never have gone so far as running off with the girl without the active connivance of Carr
ara. Mari was a lovesick fool. The real villain of the piece was Carrara, trying to sow discord among the Scaliger's knights.

  But had he succeeded? What would Antony do now that the couple was here, right in front of him? Holding his breath with the rest of the crowd, Pietro watched as Mariotto knelt before the Scaliger, careful to keep his hand in his beloved's, curtsying beside him. To Mariotto's right sat the friend he had wronged so severely. To the left, the father whose honour he had soiled. He didn't look at them, keeping his gaze on the impassive face of the Scaliger.

  The invitation to speak wasn't long in coming. "Ser Montecchio, Verona thanks you for your swift response to our summons. I imagine you know why we sent for you."

  "I do, my lord," said Mariotto. "I have married this young woman against the will of her family and without the knowledge of my own. I will never be made to regret this decision. But I do understand that I have caused injury to many people, most notably my best friend in the world. I —" He faltered, unable to look at Antony. "I will make whatever reparations I can to the Capulletti family, and bend under the weight of whatever punishment you decree. Even death."

  Pietro imagined he saw the Capitano sigh. "I don't think you will be called upon to die for your love." He then explained for the third time his decree regarding dueling. Antony sat hangdog as ever, broken leg sticking out in front him. His eyes had come up briefly as the couple passed, then returned to gazing blankly at the floor.

  "I do not know if punishment is within my purview," concluded the Capitano. "You have not committed a crime against the state. You have transgressed against two families."

  "Three," Mariotto corrected. "I have broken faith with my father. I am certain that, had I spoken to him, Lord Montecchio would have been adamantly against this union. Which is why I did not consult him."

  The crowd stirred again, and to Pietro's ears these murmurs were approving. Mariotto was not shirking his responsibility. He was the perfect model of a chivalrous young knight in love.