Ilario, the Stone Golem (7 page)

Rekhmire’ walked forward and placed
De
Pictura
on the table before the Doge, bowed, and returned to his place behind me.

Foscari shot a look at Leon Battista. ‘The writing of this took you some

time?’

‘Yes, messire.’ His voice sounded dry.

‘And the copying, also, to have a copy that Donna Ilaria might have

read to her?’

Leon Battista nodded, not speaking.

The Doge Foscari leaned back in his carved chair. ‘Clearly, Donna

Ilaria’s father, Lord Honorius, supposed there to be a betrothal, all that

time. Or you would not have been permitted to give such a gift. You do

not deny this?’

Leon’s chin came up. ‘I say nothing.’

. . .
And
therefore,
so
far,
not
one
of
us
has
lied.

‘I understand there has been legislation passed in Florence of late.’

The Doge ignored a choked-off laugh from the fat man, and looked

further down the table. ‘Simon?’

The sleek man he addressed leaned his hands on the table. ‘Indeed,

seignior. They have passed laws legitimising prostitution. Messer Alberti

will have heard.’

‘They have done this,’ the Doge Foscari looked blandly at Leon

Battista Alberti, ‘so that the young men of the city should become less

interested in, shall we say, exclusively male pursuits.’

I fixed my eyes on a tile on the floor, following the ochre and red

glaze’s repeating geometric pattern.
I
will
not
look
at
my
father,
I
will
not
look
at
Rekhmire’!
‘Exclusively male.’ Let Doge Foscari think the young woman is modestly pretending not to understand what is referred to.

Under my skirts, I have a womb and (as I ascertained privately once I

was sufficiently healed) a functioning penis. ‘Exclusively male’ is

considerably outside my experience.

‘ . . . And to further eradicate the sin of Sodom,’ the Doge was saying.

He had risen to his feet at some point; a ripple of light from the torches

shot back colour from his jewel-encrusted brocade robes. Drawing him

would be easy, painting the effect of that light and shadow unbelievably

difficult. He held out his hands, plainly giving judgement.

‘This is the sentence on Messer Leon Battista Alberti. Because of his

30

family’s good name, and because of the lineage of the Captain-General

of Castile and Leon,’ a bow towards my father, ‘it is considered just that

the penalty of execution be commuted to exile. Messer Leon Battista

Alberti shall have a month to leave our territories of the Italian Peninsula.

But in the interests of holding up a good example, and discouraging that

sin of Sodom which in Florence is so prevalent, and which threatens us

everywhere, Messer Leon Battista Alberti shall hold to his promise of

betrothal.’

Rekhmire’’s arm quivered, where he had stepped close and now

pressed against me. I felt his shock as clearly as I felt mine. Honorius frowned and opened his mouth. Out of sight, I dug my fingers into the

palm of his hand, cutting myself against the edge of his plate gauntlet.

Foscari turned his head away and fixed an unrelenting gaze on Leon

Battista.

‘Because we will see justice done, you will be married in the presence

of a priest. Before you depart from Venezia! I will call for a confessor now, and you shall be shriven clean so that you can marry. This child will

have a father’s name. This shamed maiden shall be made into a wife.’

Silence echoed through the chamber.

The Doge turned towards Honorius. ‘It has been forty days: your

daughter has been churched.’

Honorius took no notice of my nails digging into the thin leather glove

he wore under his gauntlet. He bowed with the skill of a courtier, and

spoke with the bluntness of a soldier. ‘Yes, lord. She can wed whenever

you desire.’

There is nothing else he
can
say, I admitted to myself. Anything else will smack of trying to win concessions, either from the Alberti family or

the Doge himself, and this Foscari is likely to find some way to remove

Leon again if he thinks his decision is being used for advantage.

The Doge looked across the vast chamber at me. ‘As soon as you are

wed and able to bear the journey, you will leave Venice and join your

husband in Florence.’

Leon Battista choked. ‘Florence!’

‘You may join your family there,’ Foscari said amiably. ‘Other

members of your family are also returning, I understand. We will miss

them, after so many years in our Republic.’

The candlelight showed his face all innocence as he taunted Leon

Battista.

‘As I understand,’ Foscari concluded, ‘the ban against your family in

Florence has been lifted. Your exile is over. There are already moves to

make your father one of Duke Ludovico’s councillors. Of course, the

agitation and rabble-rousing will stop; it doesn’t become the Alberti to

act against their own Duke. As I’m sure your family will tell you.’

It was clear enough to me: the Alberti family have been given a place

31

in Florence again – on the condition that they keep their insurrectionary

son under control.

Leon was close enough between his guards that I read the realisation

in his face. No more pamphlets, no attacking the Republic of Florence

for its injustices, because the Albertis have a stake in the city again – as it

stands. No more talk that might lead to revolution. The poor will stay

poor, and at the mercy of the powerful.

Leon’s expression closed. He bowed.

He might continue to think his family had sold him out. Or he might

tell himself that ideals of good government are a naive man’s illusions. I

didn’t know him well enough to know which way he would go.

Once
again
, I thought. I’m marrying someone – and I have no true idea of who they are.

32

6

‘It’s arranged.’ Honorius threw off his cloak, and came to stand by the

hearth. ‘The banns will be read thrice, and then you’ll be married.’

I sank further down on the settle, easing my shoes off. My toes were

hot and cold at the same time, and I wriggled them in my stocking-hose,

presenting them to the fire. ‘Good! Tell Neferet she and Leon can leave

as soon as we’re done.’

Honorius nodded soberly. Rekhmire’ shot me a questioning look.

Dear god, I thought.

He wants to know if I’ve told Honorius what happened in Rome—

‘It won’t be legal,’ I blurted out.

Honorius turned his back to the fire, hitching up the skirt of his

doublet and warming his backside. ‘How could it be? I’ll be honest,

Ilario, I don’t know if you
can
marry. As a man-woman—’

‘I can marry.’

‘What?’ He suddenly frowned.

‘This gets Leon safely out of Venice,’ I said. ‘But you should know . . .

I went through a Christian marriage ceremony in Rome. To an Etruscan

woman, Sulva. I was married: that time as the groom. This time, it will

be the bride.’

I have rarely seen such an expression.

‘Groom?’ Honorius stared at me. ‘Bride.’

‘You should reassure Leon it’s in name only,’ I emphasised dryly. And

then, as the thought occurred to me: ‘Although it may not bother him:

he’s with Neferet, after all.’

His face made me itch to reach for my chalks, in the same way as I had

wanted to in the Doge’s hall. The difference being that Honorius, unlike

Foscari, made me want to smile.

Rekhmire’ crossed the room in answer to a soft knock at the door.

Tired enough to watch without seeing, I barely registered one of the

house servants pass a note to the Egyptian.

‘Life.’ Rekhmire’ observed as he came back from the door.

‘What?’

‘Our assassin – Secretary Ramiro Carrasco de Luis. The Doge’s

Council have committed him to prison for life. I suspect he’ll end up on

one of those islands.’

The Egyptian’s nod towards the unshuttered windows made me

33

follow his gaze. A small patch of blue sky showed between the buildings

opposite. The canal reflecting the sky’s light back to it. I thought how

brilliant it would be out on the lagoon.

In which are isolated small islands, covered in cypresses, which they

call lazaretto: quarantined islands for sufferers from leprosy, or prisoners

who will never be released. Sometimes both on the same island.

If that made me shudder, I had only to remember the moments of not

being able – because of another’s physical force – to breath in air.

Nothing kills human sympathy so fast.

‘We won’t be rid of him.’ Honorius spoke without moving away from

the fire.

‘A life sentence,’ Rekhmire’ began irritably.

‘Not
Carrasco
.’ Honorius glanced down apologetically, evidently

realising he robbed me of heat. He sat, beside me, his back nearly as

upright as the oak settle’s. ‘Videric! Or, some other man, or men,
sent
by

Aldra Videric. Videric
will
send more spies. More murderers.’

The tone admitted of no doubt. I glanced automatically towards the

cradle in the corner of the room, to reassure myself that Onorata slept.

No
matter
that
a
child
doesn’t
understand,
I
think
she
hears
the
tone
of
a
man’s
voice
. . .

‘You’re right.’ I rubbed at gritty eyes. ‘I saw them drag Carrasco off

and was glad – that lasted, oh, a quarter of an hour. And then I realised

that as soon as Videric stops getting what reports Carrasco was sending

him, he’ll send other men, to replace the ones who attacked us on

Torcello.’

In my mind I have the flare of a striped cotton robe as a man turns, the

clack of his war-sandals on tiles as he walks away, leaving me with a

woman who he fully expects to murder me.
That’s
the
last
time
I
saw
him
, I realised suddenly.

I ran for a ship immediately after my mother – after
Rosamunda
– tried

to kill me.

I know he sent her after me. I know he will have sent others. But that’s

the last I saw: his face concerned with worry for his wife – and all of it a

flat-out lie, to get me into the same room with her so that she could put a

dagger into me.

It is more than three quarters of a year now. I wonder if that fair hair,

that burly profile, look any different. If exile back to his estates at

Rodrigo’s order has made him look old. Or whether he merely bides his

time, knowing that sooner or later one of the murderers he sends
will
kill

me. And then the scandal may have the chance to die, too, and he may in

the future come back to court . . .

‘Carrasco’s arrest solves nothing.’ Restless, I rose to walk about the

room, careful not to tread the hem of my petticoats underfoot. ‘If no one

else tells Videric, Federico will – because God forbid my foster father

shouldn’t be scrambling to be in favour with every faction he can find!’

34

Honorius seemed surprised at my bitterness. ‘You know him better

than I do. This Federico, I mean. Videric I remember as Rodrigo’s

Chancellor, before I went north for the Crusades.’

He looked a little bitter himself, and I wondered if his expression

mirrored mine – or mine his.

‘Ilario, you can’t expect me to be unbiased. Videric blackmailed

Rosamunda into staying with him instead of leaving with me.’

Much as I like the idea that Honorius is my father, it still jolts me that

Rosamunda remains my mother.

And that that is irrevocable, no matter that the man I thought my

father is only a stepfather – my mother’s husband.

And a man who will send other men to kill me. I have considered this,

wide awake in the Venetian darkness, while the campanile lets me know

it is three, four, five in the morning.

Rekhmire’’s crutch struck the floor with a hollow sound as he came to

peer out of the window, at the narrow view afforded of the Campo S.

Barnaba from this room. ‘I’m told the Council’s dungeons aren’t good

for the health. It’s possible Master Carrasco won’t be transported to the