‘You didn’t stay here last night did you?’ asked Arianna, appalled by the thought of the risk.
‘What night was there, after all that feasting? No, I stayed in the Ram,’ said Silvia. ‘Where I spoke to your young man.’
‘Which one?’ said Arianna, wryly.
‘The one who is going to ask you to marry him – the one who wants Bellezza.’
‘You mean Gaetano,’ said Arianna. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘I suggested he should think very hard before throwing away his old love and taking a new.’
‘Well, you don’t seem to have had very much effect,’ said Arianna. ‘He proposed on the way back to the palace, as dawn was breaking.’
Silvia looked at her in silence. Then said, ‘That was much too early in the day to say anything serious. What was your answer?’
‘I refused him,’ said Arianna.
‘On what grounds?’
‘On the grounds that I didn’t love him and I thought he loved someone else – quite good reasons, I thought.’
‘Yes, for a simple island girl, maybe,’ said Silvia. ‘But you are that no longer. You know that your choice must be influenced by considerations other than feelings.’
Arianna’s eyes opened wide. ‘You surely don’t mean I should have accepted him? A di Chimici? He would become Duke of Bellezza and his family would never rest until he wore me down to join their Republic. And then he would become Duke indeed, not as consort, but as ruler. Bellezza would lose its independence and its traditions – all the things you fought for, for so long.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t turn him down for less high-minded reasons?’ asked Silvia. ‘Because you preferred to stay free for someone else?’
‘And what if I did?’ said Arianna, stung by her mother’s question. ‘You talk about duty and responsibility, but you married for love. You can’t tell me not to do the same.’
‘I am not telling you to do or not do anything,’ said Silvia. ‘Only to be clear about your reasons.’
There was a knock on the door and a servant ushered Gaetano in. He was grinning broadly and leading Francesca by the hand.
‘Excuse me, your Grace,’ he said formally. ‘I did not know that you were engaged.’ He glanced curiously at his interlocutor from the night before.
‘I think perhaps it is you who are engaged,’ said Arianna, smiling. She held out her hands to Francesca. ‘And I think we shall get on much better now you are not a Bellezzan!’
‘Father has given us his blessing,’ said Gaetano. ‘I hope you will, too.’
‘Of course,’ said Arianna. ‘And I shall expect an invitation to the wedding.’
Georgia slept for six hours, from half-past eight in the evening to half-past two in the morning, when the alarm-clock she had stuffed under her pillow woke her with its muffled ring. She sat up, yawning, and stared at her unfamiliar room. She had dragged her chest of drawers across the door, to make up for the dangling lock, which had been smashed when Ralph broke the door down.
She took the winged horse from her pocket and settled back against the pillows; it was no trouble to fall back to sleep.
No one got up very early in the Ram the day after the race. Cesare felt he could sleep for a week after his imprisonment and escape and the wild finish to the Stellata, not to mention all the food and drink he had consumed at the celebrations. But the horses still needed to be seen to and the idea of breakfast was very appealing, even though it was long past his usual lunchtime.
He stumbled downstairs and found Teresa in the kitchen setting out bread and cheese and olives and fruit.
‘Where is everyone?’ he asked, taking a heavy jug of ale from her and placing it on the table.
‘Your father is out in the stables,’ she said, ‘with Luciano and Doctor Dethridge. The twins are playing in the yard. The Bellezzans have devised an ingenious sort of cage for them and your sisters are playing in it too – though I suspect the novelty will soon wear off in their case.’
Cesare took a slice of bread and went out into the yard. There were his half-brothers and -sisters, sitting or standing in a large wooden pen with bars too close together to allow their escape. Dethridge and Luciano were feeding them sweetmeats through the bars. As Cesare looked on, Georgia came out of the stable. She had set aside the red and yellow silks of the Ram’s jockey and gone back to her ordinary Remoran boys’ clothes.
‘Oh, you’ve made a playpen,’ she said to no one in particular.
‘Yonge Lucian tolde mee aboute them and I builded yt with him and Signor Paul,’ said Dethridge, highly pleased with the result.
‘They kept trying to get in the stables to see Merla,’ explained Luciano. ‘And Teresa was afraid they might get trampled.’
Teresa came to the back door and called them for lunch, but the children insisted on having theirs as a picnic in their pen.
‘Yt is al ryghte,’ said Dethridge. ‘I wol watch over them.’
But in the end Teresa took a tray of food and drink out for him and herself with enough for the little ones and only Georgia and Luciano ate indoors with Cesare and Paolo.
The young people were a bit shy with one another after some of the freedoms of the night before.
‘He seems to love children, the old doctor,’ said Cesare.
‘He never talks about his own,’ said Luciano, ‘but I think it was very hard for him to leave them.’
‘How did you fare at home, Georgia?’ asked Paolo.
Her deep sigh made them all look up.
‘It wasn’t too bad,’ she said. ‘I don’t really know the worst yet, though. I must stravagate promptly tonight and be ready to talk to my parents first thing in the morning – they let me go to bed because I was so tired but they haven’t said yet what my punishment is going to be.’
‘I am sorry that you are going to be punished for us,’ said Paolo. ‘But you said “my parents”. That is the first time I have heard you refer to them both in that way.’
Georgia was surprised herself. That’s true, she thought. Although Ralph had kept out of the way as much as possible when Maura was laying into her, he had been concerned and understanding. Perhaps one day she would think of him as something like a father?
There was a knock at the door and the tall figure of Rodolfo entered.
‘I come with news,’ he said, when he had joined them at the table. ‘There is to be a wedding in the di Chimici family.’
Georgia saw that Luciano had turned white and she felt little better herself.
‘Gaetano is to marry his cousin Francesca,’ Rodolfo continued. ‘You may remember her, Luciano. She was the candidate that the ambassador set up against Arianna at the election. Her marriage to Councillor Albani has been annulled.’
‘Yes,’ said Luciano, more calmly than he felt. ‘She is daughter of the Prince of Bellona, isn’t she?’
‘Indeed,’ said Rodolfo. ‘The two young people have been sweethearts since they were babies. I left them telling the Duchessa all about it.’
‘Arianna knows?’ asked Luciano. ‘And she doesn’t mind?’
Rodolfo raised one eyebrow. ‘You must ask her,’ he said. ‘We shall all be travelling back to Bellezza together in a few days.’
Luciano smiled with relief and delight. ‘What are we waiting for?’
‘I am sorry to say that I think we are waiting for Falco di Chimici to die,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Or recover.’ He looked seriously at Georgia. ‘This had to wait until the race was over,’ he said. ‘But I must ask you again to bring the boy back.’
*
Rinaldo di Chimici was visiting his brother in the Twelfth of the Goat. Alfonso, the young Duke of Volana, had been disappointed in the race. The Goat’s jockey, Papavero, had got nowhere on Brunello and there hadn’t even been a good fight afterwards. Alfonso had dined at the Papal palace but the air of gloom in the Twins had not made for an enjoyable occasion and the Duke was thinking of returning to his own city. Still, he, like everyone else, d
id not think it proper to leave Remora while Niccolò’s youngest son was still in such danger.
Alfonso sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better visit Uncle Niccolò at the hospital and see how the land lies,’ he said. ‘It’s a wretched business.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Rinaldo. ‘I need to know what his plans are for me now that the latest attempts on Bellezza have failed. You heard that Gaetano’s suit was refused? He’s going to marry cousin Francesca instead.’
‘Really?’ said Alfonso. ‘It seems only months ago that we were all children, playing up at Santa Fina in the long summers. She was always sweet on him, even then. And Fabrizio always paired up with Caterina.’
‘Perhaps they too will make a union?’ said Rinaldo, pleased at the possibility of his younger sister being married to the heir to the di Chimici title and money.
Alfonso looked thoughtful too. ‘That may not be such a bad idea, while Niccolò is in such an accommodating mood. Let’s go and suggest it.’
*
Georgia was in as tight a corner in Talia as she had been back at home. Rodolfo had asked to speak to her alone and they were sitting in Dethridge’s room. Luciano was not there to help her; she was going to have to stand up to the Bellezzan Stravagante on her own.
‘Falco’s going to have an operation that will help him walk again,’ she said. ‘He likes living with the Mulhollands too – I think they might even adopt him.’
‘So everyone will be happy again?’ asked Rodolfo. ‘That is not the way things work, Georgia. Luciano cannot be replaced.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ asked Georgia, furiously blinking back tears. ‘But people can be comforted. They’ve lost their son and Falco has lost his family. It feels right.’
‘I do not question your feelings,’ said Rodolfo, gently. ‘Only your knowledge and perhaps your wisdom. Falco has not lost his family – he has abandoned them. When he dies, as he will very soon in Talia if you don’t save him, you have no idea what repercussions there may be. For Talia, for the gateway, for all of us who travel between worlds. If you want me to, I will go with you.’ He stopped. ‘You are no longer wearing the ring he used as a talisman – where is it?’
‘In the waste-disposal unit of my kitchen,’ said Georgia. She was more afraid than when Duke Niccolò had questioned her or when the Fishes’ jockey had rained blows on her head. Mentally she braced herself for Rodolfo’s reaction. But he merely stood up and walked to the window.
He turned and faced her. He looked very tired and Georgia had a sense that he was bowed down by responsibilities.
‘I take it that means you have destroyed it,’ he said. ‘You have defied me. But I think I understand why. You believe that the comfort given and received in one world can be balanced against the grief and loss in the other. And I hope you are right. Because you and Luciano are now both in terrible danger.’
*
Duke Niccolò seemed hardly to recognise his nephews. He was sitting as he had for nearly two weeks now, holding his son’s skeletal hand.
‘The physicians were wrong,’ he said. ‘Falco is still alive.’
‘Uncle, I am so sorry,’ said Alfonso, and meant it. Like all the di Chimici he had been fond of the little prince. They had all grieved two years ago at the time of the accident and now their hearts were even heavier. ‘But it is good news about Gaetano,’ he said. ‘Good that my cousins can find happiness in our time of sorrow. And they are young and healthy and will give you grandchildren.’
The Duke was so startled that Alfonso wondered if he had been tactless. But it seemed he had started a positive train of thought in the head of the family.
‘You are right,’ the Duke said, ‘and kind to say it. It is something to look forward to. But why should Gaetano marry so young when he has two older brothers unwed? And a sister too? They must all marry – you too, Alfonso – and Rinaldo, if you want. The di Chimici need more family members. You have a sister, do you not? My niece, what is her name – Caterina? A pretty little thing as I recall. Would you be willing for her to marry one of my sons? The Volanas are a successful branch of the family – not like the Morescos, who are going to die out.’
The Duke was rambling, his mind scheming, visualising a string of descendants and an ever-branching family tree, filled with the fruit of di Chimici loins. Alfonso was a bit taken aback but pleased to find his uncle in such a compliant mood.
‘I believe that Caterina used to be rather attached to my cousin Fabrizio,’ he began.
‘Splendid, splendid,’ said the Duke. ‘I’ll talk to him about her tonight. No time to waste. Do you have any matrimonial plans of your own?’
‘I wondered if you had any ideas for me on that subject, Uncle,’ said Alfonso. ‘I should not want to make a marriage without your approval.’
‘Quite right, quite right,’ said the Duke, his mind clearly getting to work on the problem. ‘What about old Jacopo’s younger daughter Bianca? I thought the older one – what’s her name – Lucia? I thought perhaps she would make a match with Carlo. I want Gaetano to have the Fortezza princedom when Jacopo dies, and those girls need good husbands.’
Alfonso nodded. He had no idea what Bianca, whom he had seen with her sister at dinner yesterday, would say to such a sudden proposal, but it seemed that there would be a rash of marriages among the di Chimici cousins this year and he was twenty-six and ready for a bride. And Bianca was certainly an attractive girl. All the female di Chimici were; only the occasional male like Gaetano or Rinaldo was less than handsome. And even Gaetano had drawn the beautiful Francesca in this sudden marriage lottery.
‘What about you, Rinaldo?’ said the Duke, pleased with the reception of his new plans.
‘I – I have no wish to marry, Uncle,’ said Rinaldo, embarrassed. ‘I beg you will excuse me from these plans. I will do anything else to serve you, of course.’
‘Mmm,’ mused the Duke. ‘Are you religious at all?’
*
After her interview with Rodolfo, Georgia felt wretched. Who was she to set her will against the best Stravagante in Talia? Small consolation that Luciano was on her side, when she knew that Paolo and Dethridge were both uncertain. She wandered out to the stable-yard, at a loose end now that the race was run and her tasks in Remora seemed to be over.
Cesare waved to her from the stable door; he had the grey cat in his arms.
‘You look in need of a diversion,’ he said. ‘How about a ride on Merla?’
Georgia couldn’t believe her ears; ride on a winged horse? It would make any punishment she had to come in her own world endurable.
‘Is it OK?’ she asked. ‘I mean with Paolo?’
‘He suggested it,’ said Cesare. ‘He’s gone out now to settle all his Stellata debts but he said you’d need something to lift your spirits after talking to Rodolfo.’
Georgia didn’t need to be told twice. Cesare led the black horse out of the stable and the two of them groomed her out in the yard. As well as the usual combing of mane and tail and brushing of her glossy coat, they had to pay attention to her feathers. Obligingly, Merla spread each great wing in turn, letting them smooth each feather into place and gently brush off any speck of dust.
There was no question of putting a saddle on Merla and Georgia decided to ride her without even a bridle. After all, Luciano had managed without one. Georgia led her out of the stable and away from the streets until they found a big enough open space for Merla to make her take-off. Cesare went with them and gave Georgia a leg-up. She looked down on his open, cheerful face from the back of the winged horse and realised how fond she felt of him. He was a real friend, like Alice. Someone she could rely on absolutely.
‘Thanks, Cesare,’ she said.
‘My pleasure,’ he replied. ‘She’s hard to climb up on with her wings in the way.’
‘I mean thanks for being so nice about everything, the race and all.’
Cesare shrugged. ‘There’ll be other races,’ he said. ‘And you gave me
the Duchessa’s silver. Now, fly!’ He slapped Merla lightly on the rump.
The black mare raised her head and neighed, then stretched her neck and started her run. She gathered pace and Georgia clutched on to her mane. It was like lifting off in an aeroplane, except that you were much more intimately in contact with the process. After one last thrust off from the ground, the legs stopped moving and Merla’s wings took over the work of carrying horse and rider. The ascent was rapid and once Merla had straightened out at a comfortable height for her, the wing beats were slow – just enough to carry her forwards through the blue sky above Remora.
They were flying north, away from the city, but once Georgia had adjusted her seat, she nudged Merla with her right knee and gently tugged on her mane to let her know that she wanted to change direction. The flying horse was willing; she did not want to return to the place of her imprisonment. She was enjoying flying by day, exercising her wings with the warm sun full on them.
Below them lay Remora, its many divisions and factions blurred by distance into one bustling city. Tiny citizens stood in its squares and piazzas, shading their eyes and looking up. Merla was no longer a secret; she was the city’s pride and joy, although most of her glory went to the Ram. Yet even Twins’ and Fishes’ hearts swelled at the sight of her; they were Remorans, after all, and no city but theirs in all Talia could boast a flying horse.
They flew out towards Belle Vigne, where Georgia had ridden in the di Chimici carriage the day that the young princes had become their friends. That had been little more than a month ago and now Falco lived in another world and Gaetano was about to be married. Georgia, Cesare and Luciano had all ridden the flying horse and the Ram had won the Stellata. But what would happen to them all next?
Georgia felt that her own adventures in Remora were coming to an end. She would be leaving for France in a week, if her parents still wanted to take her. And the Bellezzans would probably be gone before then. It was too hard to think about.
For now all she wanted to do was to fly for ever, her face on Merla’s warm neck and the sound of her black wings beating slowly, regularly, through the clear air.