Communion Blood (46 page)

Ilirio, my good husband, is overjoyed at the twin boys I delivered ten days ago. He is boasting of his prowess to anyone who will listen, from the scullion to the Bishop. 1 am glad that I have fulfilled my obligations so well, for now I am at liberty to see you once again, for purposes other than musical.

And I do wish to see you, for though Ilirio is a worthy man, and kind in his way, he has all the subtlety with women that a bull has with a cow. It has got him what he longed for—male children—and I am pleased that God was willing to have it so. But I have languished for you, and all the wonderful things you know to do to please women, or this woman. I have had no spasm of joy with my husband, nor did I expect to have it. Ilirio is a realistic man, and he knows that I have a temperament that he cannot fathom, and so he is willing to permit me to reestablish my affaire with you, providing you have done as you have in the past and do nothing that would bring dishonor upon him, his family, or upon me.

1 hope you will want to see me again, and to be my lover, for I know it would make me happier than any music you might compose for me. My husband will not embarrass you if you are discreet—I think that in his heart of hearts he would be grateful to you for providing me with what he cannot give me. But I have one condition to impose upon you, my dear, dear Conte: you must tell me nothing you would not want my Confessor to know. You have hinted that you have information you must convey to me. While I appreciate your concern, I do not want to have to reveal anything about you that the Church could hold against you. If this is satisfactory to you, I will look to see you at the Villa Santa Lucia on the Ostia Road five days from now. I pray you will come, for 1 long to hold you again, and to know the passion you and only you have found in my soul.

If you will meet me, send me a page of music—any page of music—and I will be filled with delight. If you will not meet me, then I will see you at rehearsal when we resume our preparations in two weeks’ time. And if prayer will persuade you, I implore you on my knees to say you will come.

Your most devoted, most beseeching, most longing

Giorgianna

On the 22nd day of March, 1690

PART III

Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San-Germain

I ext of a letter from Ahrent Julius Rothofen to Ursellos Calaveria y Vacamonte.

To my most revered friend, in his time of trouble and grief, with every expression of the most profound sympathy, I set pen to paper to offer you what comfort I can in the wake of calamity and holy celebrations of your brother’s soul.

The death of your saintly brother must surely have been a dreadful shock to you, coming as it did when you had every hope of seeing your sister successfully wed to the brother of my patron, Archbishop Walmund. I know how profoundly shocked I was when I first heard the terrible news. To think that we had all planned to attend a wedding and not a Requiem. The funeral itself was as full of pomp as the Cardinal could wish, and his virtues were extolled even as his memory was given a cherished place among the Princes of the Church. To have the promise of Resurrection follow so closely on his obsequies must alleviate your most desperate grief. At that dreadful occasion I offered you any help I could provide you in this most crushing time, and I wish to reiterate my intentions now. Three weeks have passed and it seems to me that you may have recovered from the initial stupefaction that so great a tragedy must surely cause.

It is my understanding that your sister is still missing, and your half-brother as well. I know it is assumed she was kidnapped, and he along with her, by whomever murdered your Cardinal-brother. Rumors being what they are, all manner of outrageous suggestions are now bruited about: some say that your half-brother did the murder and forced your sister to flee with him; others speculate that it was your sister who fled upon discovering the body of your brother, and your half-brother went with her to provide protection. More ludicrous tales are being whispered but no one believes them, for which God must be thanked. If half of what you told me is true, it would cause a scandal such as Roma has not seen since the most outrageous of the Anti-Popes of the Avignon Obedience. That would never do, for the Archbishop has said that scandal would serve to sever all ties to your family, and all the plans that your brother and the Archbishop made to their mutual benefits and the benefit of their respective homelands would be for nothing.

Surely you cannot wish such a thing to happen. You must see it is best to do all that is possible to determine how your brother died and who performed the abomination so that justice might be meted out to the despicable miscreants who brought so noble a life to an end. I cannot urge you more strongly than this to summon up your courage and your duty in order to salvage as much as may be of the alliance that would have been realized by the marriage of your sister and the Archbishop’s brother. If your sister can be found and is shown to be innocent of any part of the murder of your brother, then the wedding might still take place and the goals for which your brother labored so long could be fulfilled.
      
,

The longer your sister remains missing, the greater the chance that her reputation will be stained beyond all amelioration, and that would be unfortunate for your family as well as for any hopes that the Archbishop holds for being able to see his brother well-married. You have your family’s dignity to vindicate and nothing would accomplish that half so well as seeing your sister cleared of any whisper of calumny. I hold myself ready to serve you in any capacity that may lead to that happy resolution.

You and I have been boon companions, Ursellos, and I hope I may,

for the sake of our friendship, prevail upon you to permit me to assist you as you endeavor to bring this sad time to an end. 1 understand why you have been haunting the taverns and gaming houses since your brothers funeral, for I know how you must need distraction from your grief; you have endured more than most men have had to bear. But it may be more efficacious to take action to bring the criminals who committed these foul acts to the Church’s Court than to attempt to blot these catastrophes from your thoughts through excess.

I will do myself the honor of calling upon you in three days’ time when I pray you will receive me for the purpose of establishing a plan whereby your sister may at last be found so that she may answer the inquiries of the Holy Office.

Your most truly dedicated friend to command,

Ahrent Rothofen

On the 9th day of April, 1690, at Roma

As
the musicians put away their instruments and began to make their way out to their waiting carriages and horses in the front of Senza Pari for the return to Roma, Alessandro Scarlatti took a moment to pull Ferenc Ragoczy aside. “I need a word with you, Conte; in private.”

Ragoczy glanced at Giorgianna Ferrugia, sitting demurely at the keyboard, picking out the new aria that had been added to her role. “Is this private enough?”

“I fear not; it’s not about the opera,” said Scarlatti. “You will have to spare me a few moments—perhaps outside, where we cannot be easily overheard?”

This suggestion was unusual enough to alert Ragoczy. “If you think that best, then by all means, we shall step outside.” He turned to Giorgianna and made a leg. “I shall be back direcdy; of your mercy, wait for me.”

“Of course, Conte,” she said with an impish smile; she went back to reading the score she held, softly humming the melody.

Ragoczy led the way to a side-door that opened onto a small neglected stretch of garden almost taken over by berry vines. A narrow footpath led to four pear trees that were just coming into bloom. “Is this private enough, Maestro?”

“An excellent choice; no one will be tempted to hide in the shrubbery,” said Scarlatti, winking at his pun on Ragoczy’s honorific of Eccellenza; his good humor faded at once. “This is most difficult.” He stared at the blooming pear trees as if seeking inspiration. “I wish I did not have to speak of this at all.”

“Of what?” Ragoczy did not let his impatience sound in his voice. “Tell me, what has you so upset?”

Scarlatti did not answer; he walked along the path a few steps beyond the trees, as if that additional distance would increase their privacy. “I swore I would not speak of this, but the young fool has made such a mull of it—” He gestured his exasperation as if he expected a musical accompaniment to the emotion. “He needs help, Eccellenza. There is nowhere they can turn if you deny it them. If he says anything to his Confessor, or she to hers, they will all pay dearly—”

Although Ragoczy had surmised the identity of Scarlatti’s provoking young fool, he said only, “If you would tell me what the trouble is?”

“It’s Maurizio,” said Scarlatti, rolling his eyes upward. “Who else? And that penitent. The one you kept at your villa?”

For the first time, Ragoczy was distressed. “Yes? The sister of the murdered Cardinal?” he asked sharply. “What of them? Do you mean they are together?”

“Maurizio has been hiding the woman and her half-brother. There’s nothing improper. The half-brother will swear to it. No one could be more gallant than that young upstart has been, at least that is what the woman’s brother says. Maurizio is very much afraid for them all. He thought he would be able to arrange something before now. When I saw him last, he was almost distraught. He says the Holy Office will put them both—brother and sister—in prison if they are found, and himself as well. In that he may be right.” Scarlatti was speaking very fast, and just above a whisper. “He wants to carry them out of the country—to England or the Lowlands, anywhere the Church cannot easily reach. He would even take them to the New World if he could find passage for them all on a ship.”

Ragoczy closed his eyes for a moment. “He has got himself, and all of them, into real danger,” he said at last, speaking very calmly. “Tell me the rest.”

“The rest?” Scarlatti asked in unconvincing bafflement.

“Someone has been shielding these three,” said Ragoczy, looking directly at Scarlatti. “Tell me you have better sense.”

“I? Oh, no. I could not, even if I wanted to, not with a wife and children; it would mean putting them in danger, and I could not, even for so gifted a musician as Maurizio. No. They have been in a hunting-box on Ettore Colonna’s estate, the one outside Sezze. No one uses it at this time of year. They could get to the shore in a day, if it were necessary.” This last was hopeful. “If they could get aboard a ship?”

“One of mine, you mean,” Ragoczy said slowly.

“Yes; that is what he hopes,” Scarlatti answered with an honesty that compelled Ragoczy’s reluctant admiration. “There is no one else they can trust, and no one who has been willing to offer passage to those who are—”

Ragoczy held up his hand. “Before I founder in encomia, I must tell you that what Maurizio wants may not be possible,” he said at last. “I regret to tell you this, but I do not want to create hopes where there can be none.”

“Iddio mio, why can you not?” Scarlatti’s distress made his large eyes seem huge.

Ragoczy shrugged slightly. “I am being watched, and anyone who comes to me will also be watched. The Holy Office already suspects me because I provided a retreat for the Cardinal’s sister. Now that she is missing, the hunt is on. If she is not, in fact, a captive, they would expect her to come to me again, and if she does, they will apprehend her. Not everyone is satisfied I only gave her shelter and would like to find their worst suspicions were confirmed.”

“Did you ... do anything?” Scarlatti asked, looking worried. It had not occurred to him that the rumors might have some foundation after all.

“Of course not,” said Ragoczy, so flatly that there was no doubting him. “If Maurizio wishes to avoid the risk of capture, it would be better to use other ships than mine,” he recommended. “Also, if you know I have used my ships in this way, then you must reckon that the Holy Office does as well.” He sighed. “This could be toilsome. What possessed Colonna to do this?”

“I have no idea,” said Scarlatti, although his expression suggested otherwise. “They cannot stay there much longer, whatever Colonna might think.”

“No, they cannot,” Ragoczy agreed, frowning with concentration. He began to pace, not too quickly, as he considered what he had been told. “The Cardinal’s murder makes Leocadia’s position very dangerous. The Holy Office must act in some way, if only to show the killing of Cardinals will not be tolerated.” He rubbed his chin. “Did Maurizio plan to make this complicated, or is this only an unfortunate result?” he asked of the air in exasperation.

“He wanted to help her,” said Scarlatti simply.

“Very likely,” said Ragoczy. His brows drew together. “Where did you see Maurizio?”

“With Ettore Colonna,” said Scarlatti. “There was a garden breakfast and Maurizio played for it. I had no idea that there was more to it than a well-paying job until Colonna told me that Maurizio needed to talk to me.”

“I presume this accounts for Maurizio’s absence at our rehearsals,” said Ragoczy.

Scarlatti nodded. “He understands the risks here; he does not want to be followed, or to implicate you.” His thick brows lifted in wry amusement. “He does not understand that asking for your help might be more risky than anything, but you are the only hope he has.”

“I see,” said Ragoczy, his tone mildly sardonic. “Well, I suppose I must hear him out, if nothing else.”

“Then you will talk to him?” Scarlatti looked so hopeful that Ragoczy did not want to dash his expectations.

“I have been invited to call upon Ettore Colonna on Saturday, and I have accepted his invitation. Doubtless there is some connection between your message and the invitation.” He caught sight of the copyist, Addiso Cicogna, who was coming toward them at a steady pace, and he went on as if they had been discussing music the whole time. “—and I think that adding another viola da gamba might make the bass too prominent. That would be as distorting as adding more violins, and drown out the lyrics. However, I am willing to consider you adding another flute for the two choral laments.”