by Mary Hoffman
*
Prince Fabrizio was startled when servants burst into his room and knelt to him. It took some time for him to understand that they were addressing him as Grand Duke and that meant his father was dead. But Gaetano came in soon after, leaning on Francesca’s arm, to confirm that Niccolò had indeed been killed in the duel. The two brothers, still weak from their own wounds, were taken by their wives to see Niccolò laid out on his high bed.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Fabrizio. ‘There is hardly any blood. How did he die? Could you not save him, Brother Sulien?’
‘He told me that he had poisoned his foil and the weapons may have been switched,’ said Sulien. ‘But his man, Enrico, had disappeared, and the Grand Duke could not tell me what kind of poison had been used. He died before I could administer any remedy.’
Fabrizio bowed his head. It was only too likely that his father had sought to rig the duel and inadvertently brought about his own downfall. Was there to be no end to the disasters brought on his family? But now he must become its head and inherit his father’s wealth and title. He would be not Duke Fabrizio the Second of Giglia, as he had imagined when he was a little boy, but Grand Duke Fabrizio the First of Tuschia.
The Pope entered the bedroom, summoned hastily from the Residence by Rinaldo. He approached the bed with his censer and intoned the first words of the prayer for the dying: ‘Go, immortal soul . . .’
‘Send to have all the bells tolled,’ Grand Duke Fabrizio said to his brother Gaetano. ‘The greatest of the di Chimici is dead.’
*
The Stravaganti were all at the friary, where Brother Tullio gave them warm milk laced with brandy. Rodolfo had taken them there while Sulien attended the Grand Duke.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Luciano again. ‘I barely wounded him.’
‘The foil was poisoned,’ said Nicholas dully. ‘That man Enrico must have switched them.’
‘But why?’ asked Sky. ‘He was the Duke’s right-hand man.’
‘Perhaps he was a double agent,’ said Georgia. ‘Maybe he was in the pay of the Nucci?’
‘He is a bad man,’ said Sandro, who could not be kept out of the kitchen. ‘I know he did murders.’
Rodolfo said, ‘I think it was something Sky said that made Enrico swap the foils.’
They all stared at him.
‘Me?’ said Sky. ‘What did I say?’
‘I’m only guessing,’ said Rodolfo. ‘But I think he heard Sky call Silvia’s name and then he realised that Arianna’s mother hadn’t been killed in the Glass Room.’
‘You mean he was the one who planted the explosive?’ asked Georgia.
‘If he was, then he must have realised that he had killed his own fiancée,’ said Rodolfo. ‘That would have been enough to make him want revenge on the Grand Duke.’
‘Will the new Grand Duke – Prince Fabrizio, I suppose – take some revenge on Luciano?’ asked Georgia. All this stuff about the old Duchessa had rather gone over her head. The explosion in the Glass Room had happened before she had ever visited Talia.
‘Let us say it would be a good idea for Luciano to leave the city soon,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Even though he was unaware of the Grand Duke’s deceit and killed him in a fair fight.’
‘But it wasn’t a fair fight,’ said Nicholas. ‘I distracted him. Luciano might not have got him if I hadn’t.’
‘You weren’t to know the foil was poisoned,’ said Georgia. ‘It wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to save your friend.’
But it was as if Nicholas hadn’t heard her.
The bells of the campanile in the Piazza della Cattedrale started to toll. Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines followed suit. Soon all the bells in the city had taken up the solemn note and Giglians knew their ruler was dead.
Sulien joined them and went straight to Nicholas. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘You too, Sky, and Luciano.’
He took them into the church and set them on the maze, Sky leading the way. ‘I’ll go last,’ said Sulien.
When Sky reached the middle he waited until the other three joined him. He hadn’t really thought that Nicholas would walk it properly; he seemed so dazed and wretched. There was room in the centre for all of them to kneel and they did. It seemed hours before Sky was ready to step back out into the world. Luciano followed him, slowly. Finally, Sulien helped Nicholas out, the boy leaning heavily on his arm.
‘Now, listen,’ said Sulien. ‘You did not kill your father. Nor did Luciano. Or that wretch Enrico, come to that. Niccolò died by his own hand, as surely as if he had drunk that poison. There was nothing anyone could do to save him. He was your father and you loved him, but he was a man who killed his enemies and in the end that was what took his own life.’
He turned to Sky. ‘I want you both to go back now. It will still be night in your world. I will give you both a sleeping draught, and when you wake up at home, look after Nicholas. He will need you. And Georgia. She must go too.’
Georgia opened her eyes in her own room; she was clutching the flying horse. It felt as if she had woken from an awful nightmare. Yet the person she used to care most about was unhurt. She could not get out of her head the sight of Luciano and Arianna staring into each other’s eyes. But she realised she was more worried about Nicholas. Before she left Talia, she had arranged with Sky that she would come round to his flat in the night and ring once on his mobile. She would have to risk Rosalind hearing Sky let her in.
She dressed hastily in the dark and let herself quietly out of the house. The stars were out and the night was very still. As she walked through the dark streets of Islington, she remembered doing this once before, when she was making arrangements to stay in Talia for the Reman horse race. How simple it had been then! Scary, but easy. All she had had to do was stay on a horse for a minute and a half. Now she had no idea what to do, but Nicholas needed her.
Sky came to the door quickly and quietly and they passed through his flat and into his room. Nicholas lay on the bed fully dressed, his eyes open, but not focused. She sat beside him and took his hand.
‘How are you?’ she asked softly.
He turned his gaze on her and clung on to her hand.
‘Let me go back,’ he said.
In spite of how much he had grown up since then, he reminded Georgia of the boy he had been when he decided to leave his world.
She took the flying horse out of her pocket.
‘Give me the quill,’ she said gently.
Reluctantly, Nicholas drew it out of his jacket. Georgia took it from him and put it with the horse on Sky’s mantelpiece, next to the blue glass bottle.
‘You can’t go back,’ she said. She thought about the way Luciano had looked at Arianna after he had killed the Grand Duke, then she put her arms round Nicholas and took a deep breath. ‘If you like, we’ll destroy them both – both talismans. We have to live here, Nicholas. The other life is just a dream.’
The boy looked at her as if he were still half in Talia and scarcely knew who she was. She would have to try harder or she would lose him. He would go back somehow or would lose his mind in the attempt. And Georgia realised that she couldn’t bear to be without him.
‘Help me, Sky,’ she said. ‘We’ve got to make him see that his life is here.’
Sky was feeling only half-sane himself. He’d been thinking about what Rodolfo had said. If he was right, then Sky had perhaps completed what he had been called to Talia to do. But it looked as if it had been to bring about Nicholas’s father’s death. How was he to console his friend?
‘Nick,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m sorry. Really sorry about your father. And especially if it had something to do with me. I’m sorry about all the things we got wrong in Giglia – all the deaths and injuries. But Georgia’s right. You belong here now, not in Talia.’
‘I feel as if I don’t belong anywhere,’ said Nicholas dully.
‘You belong with me, Nicholas,’ said Georgia. Something shifted in her heart and she knew it was true. Ni
cholas was a real flesh and blood boy she could love. In fact she loved him already. Luciano was the dream, someone she had loved from afar. But she and Nicholas knew each other as they really were.
‘I’m going to live here,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to go back to Talia again. There are some choices you can only make once. You can’t go back to where you made a choice and then take the other one.’
Nicholas was looking at her intently now.
‘I’m doing now what I should have done ages ago; I’m choosing you over Luciano. What do you choose?’
*
Paul Greaves whistled as he shaved. He wasn’t going back to Devon until the afternoon and he was going to take Rosalind out to lunch. He hadn’t been so happy for years. Of course it was early days; he had known her exactly a month. But already he felt they were meant to spend the rest of their lives together.
He frowned slightly at his reflection. What would Alice think about that idea? Or Sky? He realised it could make things awkward for them. But he brushed the thought aside. He liked Sky and hoped the feeling was mutual. It would be interesting to have a son, thought Paul. Then he smiled at himself, knowing he was letting his imagination run away with him.
Rosalind was making coffee in the kitchen when she noticed the time. She went and knocked on Sky’s door.
‘Wake up, sleepyheads,’ she called. ‘You’ll be late for school.’
Sky came round the door very carefully, closing it behind him. He put his finger to his lips.
‘Nick’s not well,’ he said. ‘He’s had a terrible night. I don’t think he should go to school.’
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Rosalind. ‘Shall I go and talk to him?’
‘No, Mum, he’s sleeping. I’ll ring Vicky.’
‘But you have to go to school. I’ll ring her, but I need to know what’s wrong with him.’
Sky was saved by Paul coming out of the bathroom.
‘Morning, Sky,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Mmm. That coffee smells good.’
‘Better than my mother’s,’ said Rosalind. ‘Well, look – you go and get showered, Sky, if you’re going to get any breakfast.’
When he’d gone, Paul kissed her. ‘You’re looking particularly pretty this morning,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling. Then, ‘Sky says Nicholas is sick and can’t go to school this morning. But he wouldn’t say what was wrong. I know Vicky’s been very worried about him.’
They went into the kitchen. ‘You don’t think it could be drugs, do you?’ said Rosalind, lowering her voice. ‘I know they can get hold of them in school. But I’m sure Sky’s never taken anything.’
‘You’re worrying about nothing,’ said Paul. ‘Nick’s much too much of an athlete to mess around with drugs.’
‘That’s not logical,’ said Rosalind. ‘Athletes are always in the news for taking drugs.’
‘Not that kind,’ said Paul, smiling.
Georgia could hear them talking from where she stood behind Sky’s door. Nick was at last in a deep sleep and it was safe to leave him. But she didn’t know how she was going to get herself out of the flat and to school without being seen. She had left Maura a note saying she was going for an early run and might not see her before she went to work, so that end was sorted. But she hadn’t reckoned on Paul being here for a leisurely breakfast with Rosalind. Only she was going to have to get out of Sky’s room soon; she was busting for the loo.
Sky came back from the shower, damp and wrapped in a towel, so Georgia saw her chance. It was just her bad luck that the doorbell rang at that moment and Rosalind came out of the kitchen to answer it.
Sky and Georgia froze in the doorway. There was nothing they could think of as an explanation for why she was coming out of his room at that hour. In the end she just said, ‘I’m sorry, Rosalind.’ And bolted for the bathroom.
‘Get dressed, Sky,’ said Rosalind, more calmly than she felt. ‘I must see who’s at the door.’
It was the Warrior.
Georgia wondered whether to go straight to school. But she couldn’t leave Sky to face the music on his own. She went into the kitchen and found Rosalind and Paul sitting with the man whose image stared from thousands of teenage bedroom walls. Sky’s father.
‘Who’s this?’ he said. Then, when Sky joined them, ‘Oh, I see. You’re taking after your old man at last.’
‘No I’m not,’ said Sky rudely. ‘I’m nothing like you. Georgia’s just a friend.’
‘Call round for you early, did she?’ asked the Warrior.
‘They’re both over the age of consent,’ said Paul. ‘They can do what they like.’ But he didn’t look very happy; he was disappointed in Sky.
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ said Sky. ‘I didn’t spend the night with Georgia – not in the way you mean, anyway.’
‘She spent it with me,’ said Nicholas. He came into the kitchen, looking like a ghost.
The Warrior clapped his hands. ‘Even better – a threesome!’ he said.
‘Will you stop being such a – sleazebag!’ said Sky, furious.
Anything less like an orgy than the ghastly night they had passed was impossible to imagine. Georgia had held Nicholas in her arms while he had raved and wept and Sky had lain on the floor unable to sleep.
‘I’m going out with Paul’s daughter, Alice, if you must know,’ he told his father.
‘Coz-ee,’ said the Warrior.
‘I don’t know exactly what has been going on,’ said Rosalind. ‘But I really don’t think it’s any business of yours, Colin.’
‘Colin?’ said Georgia. She started to giggle. It was like finding out that P. Diddy was really called Sean.
Nicholas sat down suddenly. ‘Can I have some coffee?’ he asked. ‘There’s nothing going on,’ he said as Rosalind poured him some. ‘Nothing you’d understand, anyway, and nothing to do with sex. And it’s over now – sorted.’
‘That’s all right then, isn’t it?’ said the Warrior. ‘Everybody’s happy. Look, Sky, I came to say goodbye. Me and Loretta are going back to the States. It’s been nice meeting you.’
Sky couldn’t answer. He felt hugely relieved that his father was going and wasn’t insisting on being a part of his life.
‘It’s a bit awkward saying this in front of an audience,’ said the Warrior. ‘But if ever you want to come and visit, you know you’re welcome. Just let me know and I’ll send you a ticket. And I’ve told your mum I’ll stump up for your university. She says you want to do sculpting or something.’
Sky looked at Rosalind in amazement. Then he felt rather rotten; his father could certainly afford it but he didn’t have to. And he was holding out this peace offering in front of quite a roomful of people. Sky looked at Nick, who had just watched his own father die in agony.
He swallowed hard.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That’s very good of you. I’ll think about coming on that visit.’
.
Acknowledgements
.
Franco Cesati’s book La Grande Guida delle Strade di Firenze and Franco Cardini’s Breve Storia di Firenze were indispensable, as were Christopher Hibbert’s The Medici and Florence. My thanks to Carla Poesio and, as always, Edgardo Zaghini, for reading the first draft, and other invaluable support. Ralph and Elizabeth Lovegrove advised on fencing and other matters. My long-suffering family endured a month of my absence in Florence, shouldering my share of the domestic load, particularly Stevie. Matteo Cristini told me wonderful things about the history of Florentine art. Santa Maria Novella and its Officina Profumo-Farmaceutica were as magical as always and an obvious destination for a Stravagante. Thanks to my editor, Emma Matthewson, who has always liked this book best, and to all the many fans who email me on the Stravaganza website, urging me to make things happen between Luciano andArianna; I have done my best.
Epilogue:One More Wedding
In the black and white church attached to the friary of Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines, Brother Sulien was performin
g a wedding ceremony. It was the day after the duel and there were not many guests – Brother Tino, Brother Sandro, Giuditta Miele and Doctor Dethridge were the only people gathered in the Lady Chapel when the principals and their two attendants arrived.
‘This has to be the strangest wedding that ever was,’ said Luciano.
‘Stranger for me,’ said Arianna, smiling at him through her white lace mask. ‘They are my parents, after all.’
‘And married already, don’t forget,’ said Luciano. ‘What will Sulien do about that?’
‘I’m sure he has thought of something,’ said Arianna.
‘Dearly beloved,’ began Brother Sulien.
And married Rodolfo Rossi, Regent of Bellezza, to Silvia Bellini, a widow from Padavia. Sulien knew their history and knew how important it was to find a way for them to live together publicly. Signor Rossi would return from Giglia with a new wife, and if she looked rather like the first, well, Bellezzans knew that men often ran true to type. He was a great favourite with citizens, known as a fair man with a tragic personal history, and they would be happy for him.
The little party afterwards was a low-key affair, held in the refectory of the friary, with no di Chimici present. The city was officially in mourning for a period of thirty days, in honour of its Grand Duke. Giglia had suffered many devastating blows, with the Nucci slaughter followed by the flood and the fatal duel.
But the wet weather, followed by a period of intense sun, had brought on all the late spring flowers early and the city was filled with the scents of lily-of-the-valley, sweet peas and stocks. Silvia had carried a spray of early white roses, from a tree carefully nurtured by Brother Tullio over the kitchen door of the friary.
Two brightly dressed figures joined the company. They made obeisance to the bride and groom and then Aurelio raised the Duchessa’s hand to his lips. ‘I am honoured to make music for you and your parents,’ he said.
Aurelio played his harp, accompanied by Raffaella on the recorder he had made. The first tune was achingly sad, more suited to a wake than a wedding, and the guests listened to it, remembering the dead of the last week. But then the music became lively and Rodolfo led Silvia into a dance.