Votive

by Karen Brooks

  ‘Ma’am, that’s not neces –’

  Zaralina stopped his protests with a look. ‘Nonetheless, they’ll be going.’

  The duke nodded resignedly.

  ‘The fewer men you take, the better. We don’t want to alarm the Sultan, nor do we want to alert any Serenissian agent to our presence or our purpose. I want the Serenissians to believe that we’re simply testing our new port privileges – especially with the island of Krete. Bursa is such a short distance from there, it’s natural we would explore … other options. With that in mind, take furs to trade. Dunlilley, can you organise them to be brought down from your estates?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty, immediately.’ Dunlilley beamed.

  ‘News travels fast in those waters – remember that. Always back to Serenissima. My dear Farwarn, you’re to take whatever steps are required to ensure that your tracks are covered. Am I clear?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘I want to know how the land lies, the size of the Sultan’s armies and navy, and his intentions – before we tell them what they will be, that is,’ she smiled. The Council broke into polite chuckles. ‘Your grace, you’re to offer the Sultan whatever it takes to ensure he accepts our friendship and our help.’

  ‘Your Majesty.’ Lord Halthorn rose awkwardly to his feet, his huge stomach resting on the table. ‘I am afraid I don’t see the point in all this. If Serenissima is our ultimate goal, why don’t we just put our cards on the table and sail right on through the Limen and take her? Why waste time sending Waterford? Why all this bargaining with heathens?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have to agree with Halthorn, ma’am,’ added Father Morrison, also rising. ‘It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, the idea of forming treaties and alliances with those whose spiritual beliefs so conflict with our own. Nothing good can come of it.’

  Queen Zaralina flashed them both a look of disgust. ‘Sit down, my lord, father. You are bigger buffoons than even I believed if you cannot see the sense in getting others to do work on our behalf. You want to send our men to war? Lose lives, ships, bankrupt Farrowfare, and against a country that is unparallelled on the oceans? Get this straight, gentleman: on water, we don’t stand a chance against Serenissima.’

  Lord Halthorn started to bluster.

  ‘Do not bother responding, you fool!’ spat the queen. ‘Think about this – not only do we buy Waterford the time he desperately needs to find the Estrattore, but we come closer than ever to conquering Serenissima without lifting a finger or losing a thing. What we get in return is a Serenissima that is fighting a war with another country far from her own shores. A Serenissima that is undamaged by looting soldiers, cannons and death or disease. But we also take a Serenissima that has sent all her soldiers to protect her interests elsewhere. A defenceless Serenissima by any other name … Not even the Cardinale can keep focused on what’s happening under his very nose if his city is plunged into war. In the meantime, we continue with our original plans. The Serenissians will never suspect that their real enemy is also their newest friend. And that is why Waterford is there – to allay any suspicions and to make sure that godsforsaken place falls to us unscathed.’

  The men did not speak. Zaralina felt their emotions. They permeated the table, running along her fingers, being absorbed into her flesh. She relished every sensation, allowing it to fill her from within. She glowed in their esteem.

  ‘If this works, it’s genius,’ said Duke Dunlilley, his chest expanding. He stroked the fur that lined his doublet.

  Murmurs of agreement flew around the table.

  ‘There are no “ifs” anymore, Dunlilley. Only “whens”.’ Zaralina raised her eyes to Farwarn, who nodded solemnly. ‘But this will, like all good plans, take time.

  ‘For now, I will construct a response to Waterford and explain to him what our intentions are. The Sultan’s ambassador in Serenissima will suddenly become his friend too.’

  ‘Seems we are making friends everywhere, Your Majesty,’ said the young knight. Zaralina glanced at him, noting the whiteness of his teeth as he smiled, the intelligence behind his pale eyes. She remembered now, that like Waterford and Farwarn, he came from the north.

  She returned his smile. ‘Indeed we are, Sir Kay, we are. In the meantime, I want our ships to continue to move around the Mariniquian Seas. I want us to go about ratifying our new agreements with Serenissima by engaging in trade – Grafton, ensure our ships are well equipped.’

  Lord Grafton raised his goblet in acknowledgement. ‘Ma’am.’

  ‘We will buy and sell and move about the ocean – a great friend indeed. All the while, I want us to listen carefully, and when we talk it’s to whisper in the right ears. We will appear to be the best friend Serenissima has had – that is, until we reveal ourselves for what we really are.’ She paused and stood, picking up her goblet. The men clambered nosily to their feet. She signalled for them to raise their vessels. ‘The greatest threat Serenissima has ever faced.’

  ‘To Farrowfare.’

  Zaralina watched as the men drank.

  ‘Gentleman,’ she said finally, placing her goblet firmly down on the table. She waited patiently as they drained their drinks and, one by one, bowed. ‘Time to attend to our duties,’ she said. In a cloud of whispers, they began to leave the room.

  ‘Rodbury!’ she called. In seconds, her steward was by her side. ‘Change our candle supplier, will you?’ She reached over and snuffed out the candle in front of her as she spoke. ‘These are poorly made.’

  ‘I hear there’s a good one in Serenissima,’ said Sir Kay as he bowed to the queen. Zaralina stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

  Sir Kay’s eyes twinkled as, with a deep bow, he left.

  As Rodbury drew the door closed behind him, conversation broke out in the hall. It gradually faded into the distance. The meeting had given the men a great deal to think about.

  Zaralina waved a young boy over to refill her goblet, watching as the ruby liquid splashed into the bronze. ‘You may leave us,’ she said to the lawyers and servants. Hastily, they withdrew. Only then did she bring her cup to her mouth, moving to the window to gaze into the encroaching darkness, noting the way the snow glistened as she took small sips. She sighed deeply. ‘Where are you?’ She whispered the words against the glass. It momentarily frosted before clearing. ‘Why can’t I find you?’

  A chill gust blew through the room. ‘She’s not lost, Your Majesty, only misplaced.’ Shazet materialised beside her, causing an involuntary shiver to wrack her frame. ‘We will find the Estrattore. We will find her.’

  Zaralina turned to regard the Mortian. ‘You sound almost sympathetic, Shazet. What’s come over you?’

  An expression that might have been humour crossed the creature’s grey features. ‘It’s not just your cause that is lost if we fail, Your Majesty, but that of my people.’

  ‘Your people?’ She arched a brow and held his regard before breaking into a smile. ‘You’re right, Shazet. You’re right. So much is bound up in finding her, I am losing sight of our ultimate goal.’

  ‘Easy to do when explaining our plans to those regarded as the finest minds in the land.’ He glanced scornfully towards the door.

  Zaralina gave a small laugh. ‘Young Kay is smart – I will watch him. And Farwarn is clever – very clever. What he lacks is Waterford’s ready acquiescence; I do miss that.’

  ‘But you’re cultivating it in Rodbury, I note.’

  Zaralina swept past Shazet and went to stand in front of the fire. It had burned low in the grate and the radiance turned her face into gentle slopes and smooth planes. She felt Shazet’s great, mournful eyes upon her.

  ‘How go our plans, my friend?’ she asked softly.

  ‘We make inroads every day, Your Majesty.’

  ‘The Bond Riders, those who would baulk at what is happening, do they suspect anything?’

  ‘Perhaps, Your Majesty. But they don’t act – I surmise they’re too afraid. They have not placed any addit
ional guards on the entry points into the Limen – our allies have assured us of that at least. We believe there are internal troubles keeping them occupied.’

  ‘Internal troubles? What’s the nature of these?’

  ‘The same that beset you and yours, Your Majesty: the Estrattore.’

  ‘Ah. How strange that those who share so little can attract a common enemy.’

  ‘Most Bond Riders still regard them as both saviours and threats. They are divided about how to deal with them. If anyone has lost sight of their goal, it is them.’

  Zaralina smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. ‘Yes, it’s one of the lovely ironies of their existence, isn’t it, that they continue living only because of the Estrattore, and yet they don’t understand the nature of that so-called existence. Of what the Estrattore have really done to them.’

  ‘They may one day find out, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Oh, indeed they will, Shazet. They will.’ She emptied her goblet and placed it on the mantel, picking up a poker and prodding the hot embers, throwing sparks into the chimney. ‘Making sure those interfering soulless bastards find out just how cursed they are is something that will afford me the greatest pleasure.’

  Zaralina felt Shazet’s form waver before he moved closer. The chill that emanated from his body made her flesh quiver, despite the proximity of the fire. She shut her eyes in anticipation of his cold embrace when a noise at the door startled her.

  Shazet stepped back just as it was flung open. In ran a small boy followed by a large woman.

  ‘Claudio!’ exclaimed Zaralina, spinning round, the poker clattering to the floor. She cast a look of both warning and frustration at Shazet, who quickly merged with the shadows. She bent down and flung out her arms.

  The dark-haired child, dressed in a long cream nightgown with a soft pointed cap atop his curls, darted around the table, ran the length of the room and threw himself into her outstretched arms. ‘Zaralina!’

  ‘Ma’am, I am so sorry,’ panted his nurse, curtsying between stumbles as she tried to catch the child.

  ‘Never mind that now!’ snapped the queen. She gave Claudio a quick embrace before holding him at arm’s length.

  ‘What is it, my love? Why are you running? Why have you left your room? I’ve told you not to do that. You must always wait for my permission.’

  ‘But Zaralina, it’s my bedtime and you promised me you would come and kiss me goodnight. Nurse tried to put me to bed, but I wouldn’t let her till I’d had my kiss.’ The little boy pouted prettily.

  ‘Ah,’ said Zaralina, shooing the nurse away behind Claudio’s head. ‘Now I understand.’ She stood up, holding his hand tightly. ‘Lady Mary, wait outside.’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ said Lady Mary, dropping into such a deep curtsy that she had trouble rising. Zaralina waited until she was on the other side of the door and out of sight.

  ‘Come,’ she said. She sat down and patted the pool of loose material in her lap. Claudio climbed into the space, pressing himself against Zaralina’s body. She entwined her arms around him, noting how fast he was growing as the top of his head was almost level with hers. The new diet and exercise evidently agreed with him. He was filling out already and he was only, what? Seven? Eight? They all looked the same to her at that age.

  ‘How did your riding go today, my love?’

  ‘It was belliss … good. Lord Brin allowed to me to jump Jed this time.’

  That dreadful accent that made every word sound like a song and aroused uncomfortable memories was still apparent. She would have his tutors work harder.

  ‘Really? And what about your sword practice?’

  In answer, Claudio held up his thumb. There was a small gash across the top. Zaralina placed the thumb in her mouth, kissing it gently, allowing her tongue to brush the tip. Claudio shivered. ‘You will have to improve. How can you protect me from my enemies if you cannot fight?’ She let Claudio’s thumb fall from her lips. His own quivered.

  ‘I can fight. I will not let you be hurt. Not ever.’ He tilted his face and regarded her earnestly.

  Zaralina glanced at where she could detect Shazet before gripping Claudio’s chin.

  ‘But you have hurt me, my love.’

  Claudio frowned and tried to wriggle out of her grasp. She tightened it, his tender flesh reddening beneath her fingers. He stilled. ‘What have I told you about disobeying me?’ she said softly.

  ‘That it will make you very angry,’ lisped Claudio.

  ‘Indeed, it will. And what happens when I am angry, Claudio?’

  His face momentarily darkened. ‘I have very bad dreams.’ He tried to bury his face in her breasts, but she held him steady. Tears began to form in the corner of his eyes.

  ‘You do, don’t you, my love? But, what happens when I am happy?’

  Claudio smiled, his huge brown eyes lustrous. ‘You kiss me!’

  Zaralina’s lips hovered inches from Claudio’s. ‘I do. So, what do you think I am now? Angry or happy?’

  Claudio gave it some thought. ‘I think you’re both. You’re angry with me for disobeying, but you also want to kiss me.’

  Zaralina looked at him in surprise. There was a tone in his voice and a look on his face she hadn’t seen before. Perhaps the dreams she’d been sending him were a little too old for his young mind. ‘I think you’re right. I am very angry with you, Claudio. But, just for today, I will forget my anger.’

  ‘Will you kiss me?’ he pleaded.

  Zaralina stared at the full pink mouth. ‘I will,’ she said, and pressed her lips gently against his young ones. She watched as he shut his eyes as their kiss deepened. She saw the colour fill his cheeks, felt his heart begin to race, the heat that infused his body, the conflicting thoughts that raged in his head.

  After a full minute she drew away. Claudio’s eyes were still closed and he swayed.

  ‘Lady Mary,’ she called quietly.

  ‘Ma’am?’ Lady Mary peeped around the corner.

  ‘You may come and collect your charge.’

  As Lady Mary scooped the half-unconscious boy out of the queen’s lap, she met Zaralina’s eyes. Her look of concern was replaced by an icy fear.

  ‘Do not let that happen again, Lady Mary. I don’t care what it takes – do not let him burst in on me again.’

  ‘Y– yes, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Leave me,’ ordered Zaralina and turned to face the table.

  The door shut and Zaralina felt the comfortable frostiness of Shazet’s touch brush her shoulder.

  ‘Will I ever be able to feel a kiss like that, Your Majesty?’ The words tickled her ear.

  She reached up and cupped his face, feeling his shudder right through her own body. ‘Get me what I want, Shazet, and I’ll make sure you feel that … and so much more.’

  THE WEATHER GREW SO BITTER, not even the crackling fires burning in every grate could dissipate the icy draughts that whistled up and down the corridors and through the cracks of Casa Maleovelli nor keep away the damp that began to seep into the walls as the constant rains lashed the casa. We all seemed to race from room to room, shutting doors, clutching shawls and coats about us, and loitering before the fireplaces in an effort to dispel the chill that, once it entered your body, was almost impossible to expel. With mid-winter came shortened days bookended by darkness – the black sky and the illumination of candles now accompanied most of our daily rituals.

  It wasn’t only the change of season that brought an adjustment to the rhythms of the casa. I could feel something in the air – a growing excitement – not only delivered every time a fresh missive arrived from Jacopo, who had now reached the Contested Territories and successfully negotiated trading rights, but from beyond. Something was happening outside; as if the city were holding its breath. I longed to find out what it was but at first I was too caught up by the transformations within.

  The quiet canal that ran along the back of the casa had become a busy thoroughfare. Craft laden with merchandise appeared daily,
unloading onto the ground floors. There were now frequent visitors and the house began to ring with accents, pungent smells and the noise of workers scraping barrels, boxes and bales across the floors below.

  The changes beneath soon made their way to the first floor. Variety crept onto the platters of food that were painstakingly prepared by a new cook the Maleovellis employed and who took up residence on the floor above, along with a growing band of servants. Where once there were spaces on the walls and floors, fresh pictures and tapestries were displayed, dusted by the additional helpers who had also been found to restore the casa to its former glory. Giaconda’s wardrobe also altered. Gone were the unfashionable dresses I’d first seen her in, and which so impressed me, to be replaced with the latest trends sewn from lush, ornate fabrics.

  When Giaconda brought to my room a gown designed especially for me, I first sank into a low curtsy. ‘Grazie mille, Signorina,’ I said, and tried not to show how great my pleasure was at receiving such a gift. The dress was a deep violet, much like the belladonna I would crush and drop into my eyes, so often these days I’d become accustomed to the sting. It would not do for the new servants to discover what I was.

  I’d hastened my wash and, with Hafeza’s help, stepped gracefully into my new dress. Snug over my breasts, it clung to my waist, its full sleeves slashed to expose silver and pearl inlays. I’d never possessed anything so beautiful in my life. I’d never possessed anything, apart from my spectacles, that was for me alone. I could not stop admiring myself. Wherever there was a reflection – the glass of the windows, the sheen of a knife, the gilt mirrors that decorated the dark hallways, I would take the opportunity to look.

  I knew it was my candles and the power they contained that had helped to turn the Maleovellis’ fortunes. They were well pleased with me. Over time, new clothes, shoes, masks and even some jewellery became more frequent and, I confess, expected. I, who had once appreciated hand-me-down britches and thought a scrap of paper from the canal and a piece of myrtle wax precious, began to covet these expensive things.