City of Stars (13 page)

Paolo looked thoughtful. ‘And what do you think they will do with this knowledge?' he asked.

‘I'm sure they won't tell their father,' she said immediately. ‘They took a solemn oath not to – swore by their weapons and made Luciano taste their blood.' She shuddered slightly at the memory.

‘Then I'm sure you're right,' said Paolo. ‘It remains to be seen what else they will do with the information though.'

Something stopped Georgia from telling him that Falco planned to use it to get to her world. And in days to come she often wondered if it would have been better if she had. But now she felt it was too soon. Nothing had been definitely decided.

But Paolo wanted to talk about something else.

‘Things are coming to a head with the di Chimici,' he said. ‘They have gained power in all save a few northern cities. Bellezza resists them, as you know, and that is one of the reasons the Duke has invited the young Duchessa to the Stellata. We do not know exactly what he means to do and she will be well protected by her friends, but we must all be on our guard. He must be intending to influence what he believes will be an impressionable young woman about the wisdom of joining forces with his family.'

‘And she isn't an impressionable young woman?' asked Georgia. This was her chance to find out more about the girl who was her rival, while Luciano wasn't around.

‘Hardly,' smiled the Horsemaster. ‘I think it unlikely that any daughter of Silvia, Duchessa of Bellezza for quarter of a century, and Rodolfo, one of the greatest of our brotherhood, would be anything other than stubbornness and guile incarnate.'

‘Have you met her?' asked Georgia.

‘No, but I know both her parents,' said Paolo. ‘And the fruit does not fall far from the tree, as we say in Talia.'

‘We say it too,' said Georgia, thinking for the first time of what that expression meant. You don't get apricots from apple trees, she supposed; children were meant to be like their parents. But she didn't feel much like Maura. Maura didn't really like horses for a start. Maybe Georgia had got that from the father she had hardly known. And what about Russell? His father was a nice enough person – perhaps Russell's mother had been really awful. But perhaps it had something to do with how he had been treated too.

Georgia felt suddenly confused. Remora, with its rigid divisions and distinctions, was in some ways easier to understand.

‘Why do you think I am here?' she asked now.

‘I don't know,' said Paolo. ‘We never know who will be found by a talisman when we take one to the other world, and we never know what they will be called on to do. Rodolfo thought that Luciano might have been brought to save the Duchessa, but he paid a heavy price for it, as I think you know.'

Georgia nodded. ‘But I thought he couldn't save the Duchessa in the end. The di Chimici killed her anyway, didn't they?'

There was silence, and then Georgia heard a muffled throbbing noise from the street.

‘What's that?' she asked.

‘Some of your questions are easier to answer than others,' said Paolo. ‘That sound is the drummers of the Ram rehearsing for the Stellata. You will hear them often now until the race is run. Come, let's go for a walk and you shall see.'

The sound of drums got louder as soon as they were out of the house. Georgia soon recognised the cobbled street leading to the square with the silver fountain. She gasped when they reached it. The Piazza del Fuoco was full of yellow and red twirling banners, bearing the image of a ram crowned with silver. Two strong young men were weaving their banners in intricate patterns in time to the insistent beat of a drummer.

Over the next few weeks the sound of those drums as the players and standard bearers of all the Twelfths rehearsed day and night would burrow its way into Georgia's brain, so that she heard it wherever she was, whether in Remora or London, in bed or at school, sleeping or waking. It was the sound of the Stellata. Every Twelfth had its company of young people who were responsible for putting on a splendid show in the procession which would wind round the Campo before the race. The drummers and ensign bearers would lead each company, Paolo explained to Georgia, and it was a great honour to be chosen to be of their number.

‘Isn't Cesare one of them?' she asked, thinking that it would explain his absence from the house.

‘No,' said Paolo. ‘Cesare is our jockey this year, for the first time. But he marched in the parade last year.'

The flags and drums moved out of the square and wound round the narrow lanes of the Twelfth, the sound getting louder and softer as they traced a meandering pattern through the Ram. Young children ran after them, entranced by the noise and colour, but Paolo and Georgia remained sitting on the stone ledge round the fountain.

It was an idyllic scene. The strong sun, the blue sky, the sound of gently splashing water and the picturesque surrounding streets reminded Georgia of a TV travel programme. But she knew there was a lot lurking under the surface of Remora and that appearances were deceptive. It was still hard to think that she might be one of the major players in the complex contest of Talian power politics. It was a bit like being given a computer game without knowing any of the rules. Cesare was a great substitute for a manual but neither he nor she knew what weapons she possessed.

‘You keep mentioning the “Brotherhood”, and all the Stravaganti I've heard of, apart from me, are men,' she said now. ‘You, Senator Rodolfo, Doctor Dethridge – Luciano even. Am I the only female one?'

‘No,' said Paolo. ‘There is a very fine Stravagante in Giglia called Giuditta Miele. She is a sculptor. And at least one in Bellona, whose name I don't know. But you are the first woman Stravagante to come from your world to ours. I admit I was surprised at first, particularly since – if you will forgive me – you look more like one of our young men. But the talisman does not choose lightly. They always bring us the person who is most needed.'

If only I knew what for, thought Georgia.

*

The Manoush were in the Twelfth of the Lioness. Not at the stables but a house nearby, where an old woman called Grazia lived. She had, unusually for their tribe, married a Remoran and renounced her heritage. True, she still rose at dawn with her face turned to the sun and bade it farewell again at every nightfall. But she had compromised her beliefs so far as to live inside a house and give up her wandering days.

Now a white-haired widow, though still a tall and handsome figure, Grazia had, in the early years of her marriage, slept with her husband in a string-bed on the loggia of their house, to ensure that their children would be conceived under the stars. Those children – four sons and three daughters – were now all grown up, with children of their own, and all but one daughter had reverted to the Manoush way of life. Such was the star they were born under.

Aurelio and Raffaella brought news of Grazia's children to her from many places in Talia, and so were assured of a welcome in her home whenever they came to Remora. The Twelfth of the Lioness was linked with Romula, the city way down in the South of Talia, where the tentacles of the di Chimici clan had not yet reached. That was where Grazia had met her husband, as they were both visiting Romula. Love had flamed in the City of the Dragon between the beautiful young Manoush and the visitor from the Lioness's lair. A love powerful enough to keep her within the walls of her husband's house, even after his death. It was a long time since Grazia had moved back into a bedchamber under the roof of her house.

But she still observed the great festivals of her former way of life and the coming feast of the goddess was the greatest of them all. The Stellata meant almost nothing to her, though she would cheer the company of the Lioness on the day and hope for their horse to win. But by then, for her and the visiting Manoush the climax of the festival would be over. They would stay up all night to worship the goddess reigning over the starlit sky. And they would wait for the sun to rise on that morning in the Campo, where they would greet the goddess's consort as his first rays climbed the heavens and bathed it with the light of dawn.

*

‘Fantastic!' said Enrico, and meant it. He was fonder of horses than almost anything else, and when Diego showed him the miraculous black filly, he thought first only of her delicate beauty and unbelievable attributes. But then his baser instincts took over and he considered the reward he would get when Duke Niccolò heard of this marvel.

And the even bigger reward that would come his way once he had captured her for the Lady. Or the Twins. Whichever offered the more silver.

Chapter 12

A Circle of Cards

Georgia found out where Cesare had been all morning. He came back to the stables in a state of exaltation: he had been riding Arcangelo on the practice track outside Remora.

‘He's in great shape,' enthused Cesare, rubbing the horse down with straw. ‘I really think we have a chance.'

‘Goddess willing,' said Paolo quickly, making the gesture that Georgia had seen before which was like the sign of the cross but not quite.

‘Why do you swear by the goddess?' she asked now. ‘I mean, you have a church in each Twelfth and you celebrate saints' days, but all the people I've come across in Remora seem to believe in an older religion – it's not just the Manoush.'

‘Talians are superstitious by nature,' said Paolo. ‘We cling on to the past when all we people of the Middle Sea worshipped a ruling goddess. When the new religion came, with Our Lady and her Son, it was natural for us to put the two together. The Woman Encircled with Stars, that's her. She looks after our city and doesn't mind what we call her.'

Georgia did not feel much the wiser. She returned to something she understood better.

‘Tell me more about the race,' she said. ‘How does it work? It's not just the case that the best horse wins, is it?'

‘No, nor the best jockey,' said Cesare, ‘although of course every Twelfth hopes to have both.'

‘You must remember,' said Paolo, ‘that we've been running the Stellata in some shape or form for about three hundred years, and there's no reason to suppose we won't go on running it for as many more.'

Georgia thought about what Mr Goldsmith had told her about the Palio; if Remora really was the equivalent of Siena then the crazy horse race would still be going for more than another four centuries.

‘All the Twelfths have their own stables, as you know,' continued Paolo, ‘and they select the horse that is going to take part in each year's Stellata. It can be bred by themselves or bought in, but it is the very best horse that they can afford. Then the jockey is also chosen by the Twelfth.'

‘It's not always a member of the Twelfth like me,' said Cesare, bursting to let Georgia know that he hadn't just been chosen because he was his father's son. ‘It's the best rider they can find.'

‘In a few weeks,' said Paolo, ‘the dirt will go down in the Campo and it will be turned into a race-track. Lots of horses and jockeys will ride in the moonlight and each Twelfth will finalise their decision about who is going to ride in the race. Not many are as certain as we are at this stage.' He gave his son and Arcangelo a proud glance.

‘I'd love to see that,' said Georgia, then stopped, confused. Father and son were both giving her the same compassionate look. ‘But I can't, can I? I mean I can't be here in Remora at night.'

‘There are other heats you can see though,' said Cesare hastily. ‘And you'll be here for the race itself, won't you?'

‘Depends what time it is,' said Georgia. She looked at Arcangelo and remembered something else. ‘Do you race bareback?' she asked.

‘Yes,' said Cesare. ‘We have a bridle and reins but no saddle.'

‘It dates back to our ancestors, the Rassenans,' said Paolo. ‘They were great horsemen and racers and always rode bareback.'

They
were
the Talian equivalent of the Etruscans, thought Georgia. Out loud, she said, ‘I've never ridden bareback but I'd love to try.'

‘Come with me this afternoon,' said Cesare. ‘I won't be riding Arcangelo again today, but we have plenty of other horses.'

‘Really?' said Georgia, her eyes sparkling. But then she remembered her promise to Falco. ‘Only, Luciano and I must visit the di Chimici before I go back home.'

‘There'll be time for both,' said Cesare. ‘Talk to Luciano about it. He'll be here in a minute; the carriage takes longer than a horse.'

‘He was at the practice track with you?' asked Georgia. ‘But I thought he wasn't interested in horses.'

‘He and Dottore Crinamorte were both there,' said Cesare.

The wheels of the carriage clattered over the stableyard cobbles.

‘Ah, the wolf in the story,' said Paolo. ‘Speak of the devil!'

Luciano sprang down from the carriage and helped his foster-father out. Georgia thought he was looking better than when she last saw him. His eyes were bright and his whole body animated and alert, as if ready for an adventure.

William Dethridge was likewise full of the races. ‘Ah, bot it was a sighte!' he said, clapping Paolo on the shoulder. ‘Youre sonne is a marvele – like unto a centaure!'

*

‘Do you think they will come?' Falco asked his brother for the fifteenth time.

‘They gave their word,' answered Gaetano, as he had all the times before. But in his heart he hoped that the young Stravaganti would think of a way of breaking their promise. He knew they were not keen to help Falco with his plan. But he himself had made no headway with his young brother; Falco was more determined than Gaetano had ever known him. And now time was running out; Gaetano would soon have to make his embassy to Bellezza and he was terrified that Falco would persuade the young Stravaganti to help him in his brother's absence.

‘Even if they do come,' he said now, as gently as he could, ‘you must give up this idea of yours. It is madness. Why give up the life you know and everyone who loves you to travel to another world where you will be a stranger? You don't even know that the doctors of the future will be able to help you. Even Luciano and Georgia were not certain of that.'

‘Then what would you have?' asked Falco bitterly. ‘That I should stay here and become like Uncle? Only I should probably need servants to carry me round the Papal palace if I grew to his size; my sticks would not support me.'

‘We could find a way out of Father's plans, surely?' begged Gaetano. ‘You could come and live in Bellezza with me and my Duchess.'

‘I have heard they have no horses in Bellezza,' said Falco, his lip trembling.

‘But I will be there,' said Gaetano, taking his brother in his arms. ‘To love you and look after you. Who would be there to love you in the world of the Stravaganti?'

‘Georgia will look after me,' said Falco stubbornly. ‘I'm going to do this, Gaetano. Don't make me do it without your blessing.'

Gaetano held Falco for a long time, then looked into his eyes and sighed.

‘Very well,' he said. ‘If your mind is set on this and there is nothing I can say or do to change it, then I must accept it. But how I shall miss you, my Falconcino! More even than I have these last two years. We shall no longer grow up together but I shall always imagine you at my side, just as when we were boys in this palace, playing our sword-games.'

When Duke Niccolò entered the room, he didn't notice the two brothers' sombre mood. He himself was elated.

‘Gaetano, I have heard from the Regent,' he said, his dark eyes glittering. ‘They are ready to receive your suit. You must leave for Bellezza at once!'

*

Up in his room William Dethridge took a small package wrapped in black silk from his jacket pocket. He unwrapped the package and spread the black silk on a clothes chest in the corner of the room. Then he shuffled the cards in his hands and dealt a clock shape on to the silk, beginning at the nine o'clock position and moving counter-clockwise. The first card to be set down was the Princess of Birds, immediately followed by the Prince of Serpents. Dethridge paused before going on.

‘Thatte will bee the stravayging mayde and one of the young nobles of the Ladye,' he muttered. The circle continued to grow.

Two of Fishes, the Magician, Two of Salamanders, Two of Birds, The Knight (‘aha, thatte woll bee younge Caesar') then the Tower, Two of Serpents, the Moving Stars, and the Princess and Prince of Fishes.

Dethridge dealt the thirteenth card into the middle of the circle. It was the Goddess.

He sat back and contemplated the pattern. It was most unusual to get so many trump and court cards. And all the number cards were twos; he had no idea what that might mean. But the Princess of Fishes was the young Duchessa of Bellezza and he was glad to see her next to her own Prince. It was partly to read her fate that he had consulted the cards. The Moving Stars clearly indicated the race, but why was Cesare next to the Tower? And was it a comfort to know that the Goddess was in the centre, controlling everything?

Dethridge decided to speak to Paolo about this reading and to reach Rodolfo through the mirrors; he had no idea which of them the Magician card represented but the sooner the Stravaganti were all together, the better.

*

‘What do you mean, gone?' said Luciano.

It had been hard for him and Georgia to cross the threshold of the Papal palace in Remora. It felt like entering the enemy's lair, even though it was a cool and graceful building of marble and mirrors. Luciano was no stranger to elegance after his time in Bellezza but Georgia felt awkward and out of place, acutely conscious of her coarse clothes. The Pope's footman clearly thought she was some kind of servant of Luciano's and that made her feel even worse.

Falco's eyes lit up when they were shown into a small ante-chamber where he sat at the window, and he greeted them both warmly, using the boy's form of Georgia's name while the footman was still there. But the minute the man had withdrawn and before they could even ask where Gaetano was, Falco burst out with the news that his brother had already gone.

‘He left for Bellezza an hour ago,' he said excitedly. ‘He's gone to meet the Duchessa.'

‘Why so soon?' Luciano pressed him, suspiciously.

Falco sighed. ‘You might as well know. It'll come out soon enough when they're married.'

Georgia saw the colour leave Luciano's face till he looked like the marble statue of Apollo in the niche behind him. But then it came flooding back and he was flushed with rage.

‘What do you mean?' he demanded. ‘Who's getting married?'

Falco was taken aback. ‘Why, Gaetano and the Duchessa,' he said nervously. ‘The Regent has received our suit and my brother is to speak of it to the Duchessa before bringing her back here for the Stellata.'

‘Never!' said Luciano. ‘Arianna would never marry a di Chimici. There must be some mistake!'

Now it was Falco's turn to colour up.

‘And why shouldn't she? We are one of the oldest families in Talia and we have made alliances with Dukes and Princes all over the North. In fact my family rules by right in six cities.'

‘A very good reason not to make Bellezza the seventh,' snarled Luciano. ‘Come on, Georgia. It was madness to come here. There can be no dealings between us and the di Chimici. As you can see, they aren't interested in anything except feathering their own nest.'

‘Wait!' cried Falco, seeing that Luciano was about to sweep Georgia away.

Georgia was as upset as the other two. Luciano's outburst left no room for doubt about his own feelings for Arianna and that was hard enough, but seeing Falco's stricken face made it difficult just to leave.

‘Wait a minute,' she said, putting her hand on Luciano's arm. It was the first time she had touched him.

‘I'm sure Luciano didn't mean to insult your family,' she said to Falco. She felt Luciano's muscles tense under her hand. ‘And I'm sure that if there has been a misunderstanding, it will be sorted out. But surely a Duchessa would have to listen to such a proposal?' she said to Luciano. ‘I mean, this is not my world, literally, but from what I've seen of Talia, you don't just say “get lost” if one member of a noble family asks to marry another.'

She felt Luciano relax slowly. ‘No-oh, I suppose not,' he said grudgingly.

‘And if it's any consolation,' said Falco anxiously, ‘I don't think he wants to marry her. I think he'd prefer our cousin Francesca – they always said when they were little that they'd marry each other when they grew up.'

Luciano laughed bitterly. ‘Francesca di Chimici? I think you'll find she's already been married off to suit your family's plans. That's if she's the young woman Rinaldo di Chimici put up against Arianna in the Ducal election.'