‘You can trust Rodolfo,’ said Silvia.
‘I wish that it was already Thursday and the whole thing over,’ said Arianna. ‘I can’t bear the waiting.’
‘Don’t wish your life away, Arianna,’ said Silvia. ‘Not even one day of it.’
‘I can’t help it,’ said Arianna. ‘I wish Luciano would leave Padavia. The city is much more dangerous than we thought when he enrolled at the University. And I’m just stuck here unable to protect him.’
‘Well, apart from the times you’ve visited him there,’ said Silvia tartly. ‘And he’s got three Stravaganti to look after him.’
‘All men,’ said Arianna. ‘Why aren’t there more women Stravaganti? Giuditta Miele is as scary as any of them but it’s always called “the Brotherhood”. It’s not fair. It’s just like your rotten old rule about mandoliers.’
‘Which you overturned the minute you were crowned, I might remind you,’ said Silvia. ‘Do I detect a new ambition burning in your breast?’
‘Oh, don’t be so maddening!’ said Arianna. ‘Why shouldn’t I train to be a Stravagante? I’m as brave and as clever as Luciano, as loyal as Georgia and Sky . . .’
‘And as wise and controlled as Rodolfo?’ asked Silvia.
All she got in reply was an infuriated snort from her daughter.
*
When Matt returned to Silvia’s house, Luciano was no longer there. He had gone to the School of Riding, determined to catch up with his practice, while Cesare was occupied. He had said he needed something to keep his mind off tomorrow’s execution.
So Matt had to ask Rodolfo what to do with Ludo’s ring. He told him the whole of the Manoush’s whispered story.
‘I will keep it for him,’ said Rodolfo, taking the little bag and putting it in a pocket. ‘We won’t look at it unless the worst happens. If our rescue plan is a success, we shall give it back without looking at its crest. This is Ludo’s secret, not ours.’
Matt was very relieved to hand it on to someone else. But now he felt at a bit of a loose end. No one seemed to need him very much in Talia and he wondered again if his role was over. Everyone was caught up in the plan to rescue the Manoush and Matt didn’t really know if they were expecting him to take part. The execution was scheduled for after dark, so he would have to have a cover story at home since it involved staying in Padavia past waking up time in his own world.
He was just thinking about stravagating home early, when Enrico arrived, out of breath.
‘Greetings, masters all,’ he said, his small eyes glittering. ‘Bruises coming on nicely, Signor Matteo! Where’s the Cavaliere? I have important information for him.’
Matt was looking forward to being back home where people didn’t comment on his face all the time.
‘He’s at the riding school,’ he said curtly.
Enrico’s mood changed immediately to alarm.
‘On his own?’ he asked.
‘Why, what is it?’ asked Rodolfo. ‘What have you found out?’
‘I think I know what the Cardinal is planning to do,’ said Enrico. ‘And it isn’t pretty. Luciano shouldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ asked Matt. ‘Signor Rodolfo, shouldn’t we get to the riding school?’
‘Yes, immediately,’ said Rodolfo, looking extremely worried.
Matt didn’t need any more encouragement; he was desperate for action.
‘Come on, Cesare,’ he said. ‘Enrico can tell us what he knows on the way.’
*
Luciano was learning to ride bareback. It was something that Cesare did easily; the Stellata was ridden without saddles. And Georgia, when she had stravagated to Remora, had learned to do it almost as well.
But Luciano had never even sat on a horse before he visited the City of Stars; they were banned in Bellezza and horses had never been part of his old life in Islington. Since the Stellata though, he had overcome his old fears and developed a real love of riding. It was so much more exciting than sitting in a carriage, with someone else in control of the reins.
And bareback was best of all. He wasn’t very good yet at hanging on with his knees and still letting the horse know what direction he wanted her to move in. But Cara was a sweet-natured and sensitive animal and responded well to pressure on the reins. Still, the aim was to be able to ride well even without a bridle so he knew he mustn’t rely on his hands.
After an hour in the ring, Luciano and his mare were losing concentration and the instructor called time.
But, as he turned Cara’s head for home, he realised that he hadn’t thought about the Manoush or the di Chimici once in the last hour. It was a rest his brain had needed but it meant he wasn’t ready for what happened next.
It was beginning to get dark as he neared home and the shadows were gathering in the streets off the cathedral square. He didn’t see the two men until they jumped on him, one grabbing Cara’s reins, the other pulling him off the horse’s back. Then his arms were held and his mouth gagged before he could reach his Merlino-blade and fight back.
Before Enrico, Matt and Cesare set out to look for Luciano, his horse had already returned, riderless, to her stable.
Chapter 24
The Table Turned
When Matt saw Cara coming into the stable, he knew immediately what it meant.
‘We’re too late,’ he said.
Cesare ran back into the house to alert the others and then they all scoured the streets between Silvia’s house and the School of Riding for any clues as to when and where Luciano had been taken.
The instructor was still at the school and told them when Luciano had left.
‘So he must have been nearly home,’ said Rodolfo.
‘Look,’ said Matt. ‘I’ve got to stravagate, or there’ll be trouble. I’m really sorry. I hate leaving you all with no idea about what’s happened to Luciano.’
‘Yes, you must go,’ said Rodolfo distractedly. ‘We will keep searching. And you will come back tomorrow? We need you in the Piazza dei Fiori. Even more if, goddess forbid, Luciano isn’t back by then.’
‘I will go with you back to the Scriptorium,’ said Constantin. ‘I don’t think any of us should go anywhere alone at present.’
Matt was touched. He strongly suspected that, if they were attacked, he would be the one protecting the Professor rather than the other way round. But it was good of him to offer.
Cesare and Rodolfo, Enrico and Dethridge, split into pairs and went back over the ground to Silvia’s house, asking everyone they met if they had seen a young black-haired man pulled from his horse. But no one had seen anything or, if they had, they were not saying.
‘I’ll have to tell Arianna,’ said Rodolfo. He was not looking forward to it.
*
Luciano himself was completely unaware of the alarm his disappearance had caused. He was heavily drugged, a state that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. No one was hitting him, nothing hurt, and his only problem was that he felt terribly thirsty.
Faces swam in and out of his vision. One was wearing a big red hat and he knew that meant something bad but he couldn’t remember what that was. Hands searched his clothing, taking his possessions, but even that didn’t worry him.
The thing he prized most wasn’t with him. Just at the moment he couldn’t remember what it was but he knew it was very important and he was glad that it was safely in a box at his home.
Home. He tried to picture it but the image in his mind was very blurry. Was there a silver mask on the wall? Or maybe a mirror? Mirrors were important, he knew that. In fact he thought he would say it out loud.
The face with the red hat came back and said, ‘You’ve given him too much.’
This struck Luciano as very funny. Too much what?
‘No,’ he heard himself saying. ‘Not enough.’
Or was that someone else?
Someone put a cup to his lips. Wonderful, thought Luciano. And then the world went black.
*
>
‘What is he saying?’ said Arianna. ‘Luciano is missing? Silvia come and look. I can’t make out what Rodolfo means.’
Her mother joined her at Rodolfo’s mirrors. His tired, careworn face was looking out at them and sending thought-messages. But the two women were so disturbed by the impact of the first one that in the end Rodolfo had to resort to mirror-writing:
Luciano has been taken. We are all looking for him. You must not worry. I will tell you as soon as there is any news.
‘Not worry?’ said Arianna. ‘How can he say that? I mean write it? Tell him I’m coming to Padavia. Write it backwards. I haven’t got time to send it as a thought message. I must find Barbara and Marco.’
And she whirled out of the room before Silvia could reason with her. Rodolfo looked back at his wife with an expression of mixed exasperation and admiration.
You’re no help at all, Silvia thought back at him. You think everything she does is wonderful!
Matt had hardly been able to get through the school day for worrying about what had happened to Luciano. Enrico’s hints about the Bellezzan’s fate were quite enough to keep his mind off his classes. The spy had been quite sure that Rinaldo di Chimici had raised the stakes and was now determined to kill Luciano. And he believed that the Cardinal had chosen that day because the city would be so caught up in the coming execution of the Manoush that they would have no attention to spare for one missing youth, no matter how well-connected.
At lunchtime the Stravaganti bought sandwiches in the cafeteria and took them out on to the freezing cold football pitch. Matt had told them there was something important to discuss and, although Ayesha was with them, there was still no sign of Alice.
As soon as he told them that Luciano was missing, the others were equally horrified.
‘I can’t bear it,’ said Georgia. ‘After all he’s been through! Why couldn’t the di Chimici just let him be? He won that duel fairly, which is more than Duke Niccolò would have done, if Enrico hadn’t switched the foils.’
‘You forget,’ said Nick, white-faced. ‘We didn’t play fair either. It was because he saw me that my father was distracted and Luciano had the chance to wound him.’
It was hard for Matt to remember that Nick had been a di Chimici himself; he was such a twenty-first century person now. But there was still something of the aristocrat about him. It was a sort of confidence that Matt completely lacked. Nick was good-looking and clever and excelled at his sport of choice. He had the girlfriend he wanted and a loving foster-family but there was also something indefinable and extra about him, a sort of glamour that Matt associated with celebrities.
Then he had a strange thought: Nick actually looked rather like Luciano. The Bellezzan could have been his brother – maybe that’s why he had been chosen to stravagate to Talia in the first place? And to end up living there as a nobleman? It made Matt feel even more inferior.
But then he looked at Georgia’s stripey hair and tattoo and at Sky’s long dreads and chestnut skin and realised that, although they were both pretty special-looking, no one would ever mistake either of them for a member of Talia’s ruling family. Besides, if the talismans worked that way, his would have chosen Jago.
‘What can we do?’ asked Sky. ‘I was at the duel too, remember, and I’ve already seen one di Chimici trying to kill Luciano. And we stopped it because we were there, all of us.’
‘There’s nothing,’ said Matt. ‘Even those of us who were there couldn’t do anything. I’m going to stravagate back as soon as I can tonight. It’s terrible not knowing what’s going on.’
‘But what would this cardinal actually do?’ asked Ayesha. ‘He wouldn’t really harm Lucien, would he? I mean they let you get away, didn’t they?’
Matt exchanged glances with the others. They realised that his girlfriend had been given a censored account of his captivity. And that she had no idea just what a dangerous place Talia was.
‘This cardinal,’ said Nick, ‘is my cousin Rinaldo. Two years ago he wasn’t even a priest and now he’s in line to be the next Pope, when our uncle dies. I don’t doubt that if Uncle Ferdinando lives too long for his convenience, Rinaldo will find a way to help him out of this world. And if he’d do that to a member of his family, what chance would an enemy have?’
Professor Angeli’s anatomy demonstration was on Thursday this week. Doctor Dethridge was not intending to go again; he was too preoccupied with the disappearance of his foster-son and the coming execution of the Manoush.
But the theatre was as packed as in the previous week. And, unknown to the authorities, many of his actual students now owned copies of Angeli’s Teoria Anatomica, in which the Professor’s discoveries were outlined.
Among the spectators who had paid their soldi at the door were Rinaldo and Filippo di Chimici, in a prime position in the front row. Rinaldo had a scented handkerchief ready to hold to his nose; he knew he would find this demonstration difficult to watch.
No one ever knew what type of cadaver would be used for the dissection; it was rumoured that Angeli himself often didn’t know till the table rose up. He didn’t make the arrangements himself but relied on Girolamo Gobbi.
But although they did not know whether the corpse would be old or young, male or female, the spectators in the Anatomy Theatre did know what type of dissection it would be; last week’s was musculature. Today’s would be the structure of the heart.
There was a special frisson in the theatre, knowing that Professor Angeli would soon be plunging his hands into a person’s body and taking the very core of his or her physical being out of the once-living shell. There was more anticipation for the demonstration than usual because of it, and students and members of the public alike craned their necks over the wooden railings.
Professor Angeli was standing by his table of instruments, his sleeves rolled up and a canvas apron over his clothes, when the machinery that operated the table could be heard clanking underneath the theatre.
At last it rose into view. There was a collective sigh. The cadaver strapped to the table, naked but for a loincloth was young and male and exceptionally good to look at. It was Luciano.
*
Constantin was distraught about Luciano’s disappearance; Rodolfo had specifically asked him to look after the boy and he had failed to protect him. Coupled with the earlier attack on the Stravagante he was responsible for, it seemed to the Professor that he had been a poor guardian. Now it appeared that a scruffy and smelly spy was better at finding out what had happened.
When Matt arrived in the Scriptorium, he was surprised to find Enrico waiting for him.
‘I’m sending young Matteo on an errand with this man,’ Constantin told Biagio. But Matt had the impression that it was more for the benefit of the other pressmen, who were looking distinctly grumpy after their three-day holiday. ‘He did two days’ cover for Giovanni last week,’ added the Professor, nodding towards the beater, who was back but with a bandage round his head.
Matt couldn’t wait to get outside with the spy and pump him for what he knew.
‘Don’t forget your hat,’ said Enrico meaningfully and Matt had to go back into the studio and retrieve Luciano’s ridiculous purple number with the pressmen looking at him. He got a few whistles on the way out.
‘What’s happened?’ he demanded as soon as they were out in the courtyard. ‘Have you found Luciano?’
‘No,’ said Enrico grimly. ‘But I’m pretty sure I know where he is. And if I’m right, we’ve got no time to lose.’
But instead of going out on to the street he dragged Matt up the stairs of the colonnaded court, towards the Anatomy Theatre, explaining as he went.
*
Luciano was dreaming that he was going to die. He recognised that it was not his own dream but Doctor Dethridge’s – the one he had the night before Matt was captured. Only Luciano was the young man lying on the slab and the knives were being sharpened for him. Unlike Dethridge, Luciano had a twenty-first century knowledge of Aztec
sacrifices and he became certain that his heart was going to be cut out of his living body.
A knife was coming closer and closer to his chest and he tried with all his might to wake up. This was the worst nightmare he had ever had. His body felt paralysed. He couldn’t open his eyes. But he could hear voices, whispering, like waves on a shore. And he felt sure that there was a bright light somewhere above him. He could sense it, red through his eyelids.
And then there was a voice he recognised.
It was Matt saying, ‘Fooled you, again! You thought it was the Cavaliere, didn’t you? But it was Matteo, my servant. See, we used the glamour again. We look like each other – I’ve even got the bruises your servant gave him – but I’m wearing my own hat!’
The whispers rose to a roar of shouting and accusation.
The Cardinal’s voice and Filippo’s.
Matt again, in a louder voice. ‘The di Chimici believe they have given Cavaliere Crinamorte’s body for dissection but it is not him. I am the Cavaliere, under a spell to deceive the Cardinal and his thugs. The poor creature on the table is my servant Matteo, disguised to look like me.’
That’s not right, thought Luciano through the fog of sleep. I am the Cavaliere. I remember when Arianna gave me the ribbon. It was blue. I did pretend to be Matt once but not now. I wish this dream would be over.
Was that Enrico speaking now?
‘And either way, Cavaliere or servant, that’s not a condemned criminal on the table, is it?’
A terrible jolt passed through Luciano’s brain. Perhaps this wasn’t actually a dream? With every atom of strength he had left to fight the doped haze he was in, he tried to move his right arm.
There were screams in the space outside his head.
‘It’s not even dead,’ cried a voice. ‘Its arm moved. I saw it.’
And then Luciano seemed to topple into a vortex, spinning and falling slowly into a new kind of darkness where everything was quiet.