‘Do you want me to come too?’ asked Sky.
‘Would you? I’d be happier if there were two of us. We’ll need to watch him all day.’
‘I’ll stravagate back as soon as you’ve gone,’ said Sky. ‘And I’ll ask him round to my flat tomorrow night.’
Georgia stopped outside the church.
‘Listen,’ she said. ‘What’s that music?’
There was a sound of muffled drums coming from beyond the Piazza della Cattedrale. A passer-by said, ‘They are burying Prince Carlo.’ Georgia and Sky stood still, their heads bowed for a few minutes.
Then they walked over the Ponte Nuovo. Gabassi the architect and a man Sky recognised as the Grand Duke’s steward were arguing with a large butcher. They stopped to listen before heading towards the Nucci palace.
‘A walkway across the river?’ said Sky. ‘And he doesn’t want any bad smells as he walks along. Is there no limit to the man’s arrogance?’
‘He thinks the di Chimici are above the likes of ordinary people,’ said Georgia. ‘And he doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get what he wants. That’s what this duel is all about, isn’t it? He proposes to Arianna, she turns him down, so he wants to kill Luciano because he thinks he’s his rival.’
‘It’s hard to believe it’s going to happen here in the Nucci gardens in less than a day,’ said Sky.
They skirted the gardens and turned off left down to where Merla waited with the Manoush in the little homestead. She sensed Georgia’s approach and whinnied from far away, running up to the fence round the field. Sky caught his breath at the sight of the magnificent winged horse. If only there were time to get to know her.
Aurelio was whittling a recorder out of pearwood. He lifted his sightless eyes as they came up to the fence.
‘This is Sky,’ Georgia said. ‘He is another Stravagante from my world.’
Aurelio bowed in Sky’s direction, touching his breast and brow with both hands.
‘You are troubled about something,’ he said to Georgia. ‘What is wrong?’
‘Luciano is going to fight a duel with the Grand Duke at dawn tomorrow,’ she said. ‘In the gardens of the Nucci palace. And I am afraid he will lose.’
Chapter 27
A Duel
Rodolfo had been so insistent that Luciano had agreed to talk to him again about the duel.
‘You understand that you can’t go along with this crazy plan of Falco’s?’ said the older Stravagante.
Luciano was silent.
‘What is it, Luciano?’ asked Rodolfo gently. ‘Do you want to go home so badly? Do you not feel at home here in Talia with us? With Arianna?’
‘She doesn’t care about me,’ said Luciano bitterly. ‘She could have asked me to stay.’
‘She refused the Duke’s proposal,’ said Rodolfo.
‘But not for me,’ said Luciano. ‘For Bellezza. She cares more about her city than she does about me.’
‘Do not throw your life recklessly away in this duel,’ said Rodolfo, and he looked stern. ‘I can get you out of the city. Promise me that you will not fight.’
‘I can’t promise,’ said Luciano, moved by Rodolfo’s concern. ‘But I will think about it.’
*
At dawn the next day, many people converged on the Nucci gardens. The Grand Duke was last to arrive with his two seconds, Enrico and Gaetano, who had to lean on Francesca. Luciano was already there, with Doctor Dethridge and Sky. Georgia and Nicholas arrived at almost the same time; Nicholas had stayed at Sky’s flat that night and stravagated soon after him.
Georgia was very relieved to see him; she had stuck to him all Sunday in their world until Sky took over and took him home. Now they mingled with the substantial crowd. Georgia saw Silvia standing near Rodolfo with Guido Parola. She scanned the gathering for a sight of Arianna but there were too many people present to see properly.
Sky was feeling very nervous about his role.
‘Fyrste wee most assay to have the encountire annulled,’ explained Doctor Dethridge. ‘Wee most entire negotiatiounes with yonge Cayton and yondire villayne Henry.’
He means Gaetano and Enrico, thought Sky.
‘Yf thatte fayles, thenne wee inspecte the weapouns to insure they are alike and notte tampered with. Yf that wee are contente, thenne the conteste most beginne.’
The four seconds approached and began to debate the issue of settling the quarrel without a fight.
All this time Luciano and the Grand Duke stood at some distance apart, not exchanging as much as a look. Luciano scanned the crowd for friends and saw a reassuring number of Stravaganti manoeuvring themselves into position so that they took up points on a circle. The first person he saw was Rodolfo, and he felt bad that he hadn’t been able to take his advice. Sulien, Giuditta, Georgia, Nicholas – they were all there. He was surprised to see Gaetano as one of his father’s seconds. That meant that three of the seconds were Luciano’s friends, even though Gaetano could hardly take any action against his father.
Francesca was there to support her husband, Silvia could be located by the tall red-headed young man beside her and Luciano also caught a glimpse of the multi-coloured clothing of Raffaella the Manoush. It seemed as if almost everyone he knew in Giglia had come to support him. Almost. There was no sign of the slight masked figure he most wanted to see. Yet this duel was for her, at least as far as Luciano was concerned. He still didn’t know exactly why the Grand Duke had challenged him. But with every pass he made with his foil, Luciano would be thinking about Arianna and venting the anger he had felt for a month, ever since the Duke’s dinner party when Niccolò had announced his intention of marrying her.
Niccolò himself had a more complicated agenda – as always. He wanted to hurt the Duchessa, to punish her for continuing her mother’s resistance to a di Chimici alliance and for slighting his offer. But this contest was also for Falco. He had wished a thousand times that he had put Luciano and his accomplice to death in Remora when his boy had died so mysteriously. It was only his grief and the befuddlement of his senses by witchcraft that had stopped him.
The witchcraft of Rodolfo. All the recent strife with the Nucci had deflected Niccolò from his other purpose: persecution of the Stravaganti. The Bellezzan Regent was one of that Brotherhood, he knew, and he suspected that Luciano was being trained in the same arts. This duel might flush out some more of them. The boy’s seconds, for instance. That old man he knew to be Luciano’s father, or foster-father, but what about the young Moorish friar? The Eel had found no evidence to confirm that he was Brother Sulien’s illegitimate son, so he was another potential Stravagante. Unlikely in a friar, and Niccolò owed Sulien thanks for his role after the Nucci attack and at the time of his own poisoning. Still, he was a friend of Luciano’s, so a possible suspect. And there had been another young friar seen in their company. But there was no more time to wonder about him now, as the duel was about to begin.
Enrico refused to accept any peaceful settlement on his principal’s behalf even though his own fellow second supported it. The Grand Duke was mortally offended, he said, that the Bellezzan had interfered with his suit to the Duchessa, poisoning – Enrico emphasised the word – her mind against him. He demanded full satisfaction.
Interfered with his suit? thought Luciano. So Arianna did say something about me when he proposed. Niccolò is jealous! It gave him fresh heart, but there was still no sign of Arianna in the crowd.
So they proceeded to the inspection of weapons. Enrico brought out the two rapiers in a long case, lined with black velvet. He offered Luciano first choice and the Bellezzan took the weapon further away from him, just in case his seconds had missed anything. He balanced it in his hand, took the tip and slightly bent it in a curve to test the blade; it was an elegant, even beautiful weapon. The Grand Duke took the other.
Sky swallowed. His mouth was dry. He felt that he would be making every pass and parrying every blow with Luciano. He didn’t know how his friend could stand there so coolly, test
ing the rapier when, in a few moments, he would be fighting for his life. Neither weapon was bated and there were no face-guards or body padding; this was supposed to be a duel to the death.
There was a slight commotion in the crowd and the Duchessa of Bellezza appeared and stood beside a well-dressed middle-aged woman. Luciano met her violet eyes and made the slightest nod in her direction before taking up his guard. This is for you, he thought silently. If I get out of this alive, I’m going to tell you how I feel. He held his weapon in front of him as if making her a salute and with it a promise. The Grand Duke saw the gesture and followed his gaze to the masked figure in the crowd. His lip curled with disdain. So the lagoon slut was here to support her lover? Let her take him away in pieces or infected with a poison beyond cure!
He didn’t press Luciano at first, letting the boy get over-confident. But it surprised Niccolò to see how good his opponent was. Nothing that would trouble the Grand Duke, but the Bellezzan would die valiantly.
Rinaldo di Chimici watched nervously. His uncle would win, of course, but Rinaldo, like everyone else, was caught up in the excitement of the contest. And there was a great deal of support for the underdog. He looked at the crowd. There was that red-headed fellow again – near the young Duchessa and an older woman, clearly his employer. Something about the association of the man with Bellezza made the necessary link in Rinaldo’s brain and at that moment he knew who Guido Parola was.
Enrico was watching the young Duchessa too. The fight wouldn’t get interesting for a while yet. She was a fetching little thing, he thought, sentimentally. It was a pity she was going to lose her inamorato – such eyes were not meant for tears. Perhaps she would recover one day and marry. But not the Grand Duke; he was much too old for her. Enrico allowed his mind to wander to his old love, his fiancée Giuliana, who had disappeared from Bellezza at the time of the old Duchessa’s assassination. Would he ever find a woman to replace her? He still could not understand what had happened to her.
Rinaldo no longer had any attention to spare for the duel. Guido Parola owed him money; he had taken half his fee for assassinating the Duchessa, botched the job and disappeared. Now Rinaldo wondered if he could set Enrico on to him.
Luciano was beginning to sweat. He had been parrying as skilfully as he could but had never got close to touching the Grand Duke. The hilt of the rapier was getting slippery in his hand. He muffed the next blow and felt Niccolò’s blade pierce his left shoulder. It was not a deep cut but the seconds halted the duel to attend to it. Both men were brought wine to drink while they rested.
Sky helped Dethridge clean and pad Luciano’s wound with cotton strips. Rinaldo took the opportunity to approach Enrico.
‘See that red-headed fellow over there?’ he hissed. ‘That’s the man I paid to kill the Duchessa on the night of the Maddalena feast in Bellezza. I want you to catch him and make him give back what he owes me.’
Enrico didn’t really want to be distracted now. This break gave him the opportunity he needed to smear the point of Niccolò’s rapier with the poison he had with him. Rinaldo was standing between him and the onlookers, providing a perfect screen. And the other three seconds were all looking at Luciano.
‘Funny he’s with the new Duchessa now,’ said Enrico, applying the poison. He knew Rinaldo wouldn’t stop him – even if he was a priest now, he had no love for the boy who had fooled him in Bellezza.
‘He’s not with the Duchessa. He’s a servant of that other woman – the good-looking middle-aged one,’ said Rinaldo.
Enrico looked where he was pointing. And Rinaldo looked again.
‘Yt is time to beginne agayne,’ said Dethridge. ‘Yonge Maister Lucian is fitte to fyghte.’
Enrico passed his master the poisoned blade, as Rinaldo gripped his arm.
‘That’s her!’ he hissed. ‘The Duchessa!’
‘I know it is,’ said Enrico. ‘Now get back to the crowd. We have a duel to finish.’
‘No,’ said Rinaldo urgently. ‘The old one!’
But he was pushed back among the other spectators and Luciano and Niccolò faced each other again.
The man’s losing his mind, thought Enrico. How could the assassin be with the old Duchessa? I killed her myself. Lobbed a bomb at her in that crazy room of mirrors she had.
Nicholas didn’t like the way the duel was going. Luciano’s confidence had been weakened by the hit to his shoulder, even though the wound was not serious. Nicholas decided it was time to try Sandro’s idea. He moved through the crowd until he was positioned where his father could see him, even though it meant breaking out of the circular formation with the other Stravaganti. Then he let his hood fall back.
Enrico was troubled by his conversation with Rinaldo and found it difficult to concentrate on the duel. Someone had died in the Glass Room, and if it hadn’t been the old Duchessa, then who was it?
Suddenly, the Grand Duke sank to his knees, clutching his chest.
‘Oh, Goddess save us!’ muttered Enrico. ‘Don’t have a seizure now!’
He rushed to his master’s side. Gaetano was raising his father and giving him more wine. ‘Falco!’ whispered Niccolò. ‘I saw him, Gaetano. Over there!’
Enrico looked round but there was no one special to be seen in the crowd. Where the Grand Duke pointed was a young friar, one of Sulien’s novices, with his face hooded.
But Prince Gaetano seemed disturbed. ‘We should stop the fight, Enrico,’ he said.
‘No, no,’ said the Grand Duke, passing his hand over his face. ‘It’s nothing – a hallucination. Give me another mouthful of wine. I’ll fight on.’
The Duchessa was pressing forwards to see what was going on.
‘Is it over?’ she called out. ‘Does the Grand Duke concede?’
Sky was the second nearest to her. He shook his head. Arianna made to move forwards but the duel was about to resume. It was going to be dangerous if she got near the foils.
‘Silvia,’ he called. ‘Guido! Keep her back.’
Silvia. That was the old Duchessa’s name. Enrico saw the middle-aged woman and the assassin together restrain the young Duchessa. Rinaldo had been right. This was Silvia, the Duchessa of Bellezza.
Enrico lived in sixteenth-century Talia, so he had never seen a slow-motion sequence in a film. But that was just like what he was experiencing. If the old Duchessa of Bellezza was still alive, he thought again as he picked up the two foils, then who had died in the Glass Room that day when he had planted the explosive?
And then all of a sudden he knew exactly what had happened to his fiancée. If the old Duchessa was alive, she must have used a substitute. She had done it before. And the person she had used was Enrico’s fiancée, Giuliana.
When Enrico passed the foils to the duellists, he made sure that Luciano got the poisoned one. It was the decision of a moment. As Enrico realised that he had killed his own fiancée, blown her into little pieces, a hatred like nothing he had ever experienced welled up inside him.
He would deal with Rinaldo later, and maybe the old Duchessa herself, for tricking him by using a double – but for now he wanted to kill the Grand Duke, the man who had ordered the assassination. If it hadn’t been for him, Giuliana would be alive. Enrico’s first instinct was to stab the man himself. But no, there was a perfect way to do it – they were in the middle of a duel, after all, one that the Grand Duke himself had rigged. It would be very satisfying to see Luciano kill him.
And if by any chance the Grand Duke managed to kill Luciano with the unpoisoned sword, well then Enrico would stab Niccolò himself and take the consequences.
The two duellists feinted, circling each other warily. The Grand Duke lunged, forcing Luciano backwards. Nicholas stepped forwards and pulled back his hood again. The Grand Duke faltered and Luciano struck. It was a light thrust but the point went in and his man was down.
The Duke’s seconds went to him. ‘You must stop it now,’ said Gaetano to Enrico. ‘Look at him. He’s not fit to continue.’
/> The Grand Duke did indeed seem a lot worse than the strike warranted. Luciano had lowered his weapon, puzzled. Enrico took it from him. Brother Sulien came out of the crowd to offer his healing skills. But the Grand Duke was racked with spasms. In his agony he grabbed a red flowering bush in a pot by the path and was showered with crimson petals. It was obvious that Luciano’s weapon had been poisoned. But both weapons had disappeared and the Grand Duke’s second with them.
Niccolò di Chimici was dying in front of their eyes.
‘Poison,’ he said to Sulien, clutching his robes. ‘I had one of the foils poisoned. They must have been switched.’
‘What poison?’ asked Sulien urgently. ‘Tell me the name.’
But the Grand Duke shook his head slightly. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered. ‘Enrico got it for me.’
‘I can’t help him,’ said Sulien. ‘If I had any of the Drinking Silver left . . . but I gave the last drops to Filippo Nucci.’
Nicholas pushed his way through the people clustered round the Grand Duke where he lay on the ground. ‘Father,’ he whispered, from within the folds of his hood. ‘Forgive me.’
And those who were nearby thought it was the Grand Duke speaking, asking absolution of a priest.
Niccolò’s eyes fluttered open. ‘Bless you, my son,’ he whispered.
And the onlookers thought the words were offered by the young friar to the dying man. At least that was the story that circulated in Giglia in days to come. That Niccolò di Chimici had died in a state of grace.
The Grand Duke’s body was carried into the palazzo. Luciano stood stunned. Arianna ran to him as if to comfort him but stopped short of touching him. Dethridge took him in a bear hug. Sky was holding Nicholas back from going after the body and its followers. Georgia came running up to them and saw Luciano and Arianna gazing into each other’s eyes. Her heart lurched. All was confusion.
‘I killed him,’ said Luciano stupidly.
‘No,’ said Nicholas, white-faced. ‘I did.’