Lackey, Mercedes & Flint, Eric & Freer, Dave - [Heirs of Alexandria 01] (83 page)

"With his grandfather, Duke Dell'este," interposed Petro Dorma smoothly.

The Count nodded. "So, boy�which way is Ferrara leaning? Venice, Milan... or Rome?"

Yes, these were worrying times. Ferrara had for the better part of century stood by Venice, but keeping its independence. Then the Venetians had demanded the salt pans, and Ferrara had balked and called on Rome�and even, for a time, threatened alliance with Milan. Who, for its part, had sent no less of a condottiere than Carlo Sforza to pay a friendly visit to Ferrara... a visit to which, Marco suspected, he ultimately owed his brother.

It had all blown over, eventually. But... by the presence of that sword in the
Casa
Dorma, the storm was brewing again.

Marco was not prepared for the direct question. For the simplest reason: he had no idea what the old duke was planning to do.

"My grandfather keeps his own council, milord."

"Yes, but..."

"I see the majordomo is beckoning to us, Count Antonelli," interrupted Petro. "Pardon us. I must find my sister and take my new ward to be presented to the Doge."

Petro steered Marco away across the salon to where Angelina was talking to a tall, beautifully made up woman with a neat little mole above her rosebud mouth, standing in the circle that surrounded Lucrezia Brunelli. They were laughing. The woman gave Marco a very considering look as Petro snagged his sister and led them off to meet Doge Foscari.

Kat was preparing herself for the sheer delight of giving Signor Sergio Della Galbo the finest put-down of his obnoxious life. The fat
curti
had cornered her again. But knowing how her grandfather felt, and having met her soulmate, Katerina Montescue was going to tell this disgusting old rou� where to get off. In training for a life as Katerina Felluci she was going to use some choice canaler terms she'd picked up from Maria.

And then her grandfather came storming up, towing Alessandra. His lined face was as pale as his snowy linen. His eyes bulged. Alessandra was looking terrified and wasn't even protesting. "Come," was all the old man said. Very quietly.

Della Galbo protested. "Get lost, worm!" snapped Kat, pushing past him to her grandfather. She slid an arm around the old man. "What is wrong, Grandpapa?" she asked, worried. The last time she seen him like this was when they'd brought the news of Alessandra's baby's death. Normally, if he was angry, the whole countryside knew about it.

"Valdosta."
He spat the name out as if it were a curse. "They're
not
all dead, girl. I told you some of the vermin still survived. But I never thought I'd see them here, bold as brass, under the protection of
Casa
Dorma." He pointed.

She was glad she had her arm around the solid if elderly stanchion of her grandfather. Walking, head bent forward in the listening pose she knew so well, had studied so lovingly... was Marco Felluci. He was listening to Petro Dorma and that horrible spoiled brat, Angelina Dorma. Marco was not wearing Ventuccio livery, or old canaler clothes. He was dressed in a silk shirt, and fine hose, with a cloak that could have bought Maria's gondola. There was gold on his finger.

"Who�who is
that
?" she asked, in a small wooden voice, feeling stupid, stunned, her world in chaos.

Her grandfather hissed like a leaky kettle. "Calls himself 'Marco Valdosta.' They claim he's been in Ferrara. With the Dell'este. That's another Valdosta lie. I'm quite sure he's the same one I tried to have assassinated here in Venice last year�and failed, I'm sorry to say."

For a moment, Kat thought she might faint.

"Now come," growled Lodovico. "We're going home."

Kat sat on her bed. She had neither the will, nor, it seemed, the ability to do more than stare at the wall. Madelena had fussed her charge into a nightgown. Gently and quietly this once, seeing Katerina behaving like some porcelain doll, obedient but mechanical, and silent.

Even Alessandra coming in to her room didn't excite any reaction. Madelena crossed herself.

Alessandra was big with excitement. "Well! What a scene. I thought the old fool was going to drop dead on us. That Valdosta's not bad looking, is he? Although I prefer more rugged men, myself. Still, that Angelina Dorma seems pleased enough with her catch."

"WHAT!?"

Alessandra prattled on. "They say she's getting married to the Valdosta boy. Lucrezia said it has to be pretty soon, because she's already carrying his baby."

The roaring in Katerina's ears refused to be stilled. Even Alessandra noticed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Lead was lighter. "I feel sick."

"Are you pregnant?" said Alessandra, eager for more fuel.

This was enough to penetrate Kat's armor of confusion and misery. "No!" she snapped. "But if I left it to you, half the town would say I was. And I'll bet all this gossip is just as true as my pregnancy."

Alessandra shrugged and turned her shoulder. She sniffed. "And I suppose Grandfather isn't talking about finding a decent assassin to get rid of the brat."

"Be real, Alessandra," said Katerina a terrible sinking feeling in her gut....
He could. He hated the Valdosta name bitterly
. "Like we need to open warfare with Dorma. Or even Duke Dell'este."

Alessandra shrugged an elegant shoulder. "I suggested he hire Aldanto. He could do it quietly."

"Caesare! Ha! He knows Mar... Valdosta too well," a curious mix of fear and misery betrayed Kat into speaking before she thought.

Alessandra pounced on her. "And how do
you
know Caesare Aldanto? You keep away from him Katerina." She laughed. A humorless, bitter sound. "He's too strong a meat for
you
."

Alessandra turned and walked out, with a parting snort.

It took Kat a few minutes of mulling to suddenly wonder. How did her sister-in-law�married at seventeen from a cloistered background into a sheltered and restrictive
Case Vecchie
family�know someone like Caesare Aldanto at all?

Sleep was not going to come tonight. She got up and put on a dressing gown, and went up to her grandfather's study.

He was sitting there staring at his tallies. He wasn't looking, just staring. He didn't even see her come in. She had to put an arm around his shoulder before he noticed her.

He sighed. "Ah Katerina,
cara mia
. I had begun to see some small hope from the
Casa
Montescue. A future for you, a dowry." He sighed again. "Now... Valdosta."

She hugged the hunched shoulders. "Grandpapa... I know they are our enemy... but I've never asked... why?"

He snorted. "Never wanted to make me angry by even mentioning the name, is what you mean." He rubbed his face wearily. "The two houses were once allies�even friends. We go back far into the history of the Venice. Luciano�that was Luciano Valdosta�he used to joke that it was a Valdosta and Montescue that witnessed the meeting between Saint Mark and the winged Lion. He said the Montescue was busy stealing Saint Mark's fish and the Valdosta, not to be outdone, was stealing the whole boat... Luciano and me. We were like that." The old man twisted his fingers over each other. "People used to say 'Luci and Lodo'�here comes trouble."

Lodovico Montescue sighed. "It wasn't really like that. I used to get us into trouble and Luciano would get us out. He was a good man... deep down. Not like his son, Fabio." The old face was contorted into a scowl. "Luciano would have married my sister: your great-aunt Fiorenza. But he got involved with the Montagnards from Milan. He and I had a fight. The first time ever... It's a long story. But then he married Viviana. And there was bad blood between us and the two houses didn't speak.

"But I missed him, truth to tell. There wasn't a day when I didn't think I'd been stupid. I even sent a message over once. It came back, torn up. Then, when Luciano was killed in a freak accident over at the boatyard... I went to the funeral. To pay my respects to a man I loved. And that little pig Fabio screamed at me and denounced me for killing his father. Right there in the church! He swore revenge. I was angry, true. But�out of respect for the Church and for Luciano�I didn't throttle him right there. I should have. He paid us back with black magic. You can put the death of your mother, your aunt Rosa, your brother, and even my grandson down to him. Even a baby at his door.

"He fled to Ferrara with that silly foreign-born wife of his before I could take action. The
Signori di Notte
and the Doge claimed it was plague, but I didn't believe it for a moment. Then Fabio got himself killed in a fight with some mercenary. But that wife of his continued the vendetta when she came back here, I'm sure of it. Very low she was then, thinking she could get away with her Montagnard activities by pretending to be a mere shopkeeper. She and her Montagnard friends organized against our house. I'm sure they're responsible for your father's disappearance."

Even as angry as Kat was at anything remotely "Valdosta," her grandfather's theories seemed... well, insane.

He sighed. Ruffled her hair. "I suppose it all sounds insane. And... perhaps it is. At least, that's what�ah, a good friend of mine tells me. She may well be right. But if I've given up the vendetta�not that we could afford one against Dell'este as well as Valdosta anyway�I haven't given up my sentiments. Now, be off to bed, minx."

Kat went. But not to sleep. Before dawn she dressed in her canal-going clothes and hooded cloak and went out.

"I missed you at the levee tonight," yawned Francesca, tying up her robe. As she led Kat into the salon, the courtesan glanced at the window, still covered with curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise and its light, filtered through the expensive cloth, bathed the room in a soft velvety glow. "Or last night, I suppose I should say. I just got home myself, and was about to go to bed."

The courtesan examined Kat's clothing and grinned sleepily. "Congratulations, by the way. How in the world did you manage to talk your way into Casa Louise dressed like
that
?
"

Abashed, now that she was actually inside Francesca's apartment, Kat glanced uneasily at the door to Francesca's bedroom. The door was open.

Francesca's grin widened, and became less sleepy. "Relax. I don't usually entertain my clients here any longer. Except Manfred, of course, since I refuse to smuggle myself past that gaggle of knights at the embassy. And... one other, who wants to keep our liaison a secret from his closest relative."

Kat tried to find the right words. Then, when she couldn't find any words at all, burst into tears.

Francesca's grin vanished. "Come, come, little one," she crooned, folding Kat into an embrace the way a mother or a big sister might, "it can't be
that
bad."

"Yes it can!"
wailed Kat. And proceeded, in the ensuing time of babbled words, to prove her point. Or try to, at least.

By the time she was done, Francesca was standing at the window, looking at the canal below through a curtain she had drawn partly aside with a finger.

"You could probably nip it in the bud, you know," the courtesan mused. "This budding marriage between
Casa
Dorma and
Casa
Valdosta, I mean."

She removed her finger, allowing the curtain to sway back into place, and cocked her head toward Kat. "I heard the rumors myself, last night. A marriage of convenience, driven partly by politics and partly by the crude fact that Angelina Dorma is pregnant. Nothing more than that."

"Nothing
more
!?
"
choked Kat. "It's still a
marriage,
Francesca! And�" She choked again. Then, in a whisper: "Pregnant? By Marco?"

Francesca shrugged. "That seems to be the assumption. Myself, I wouldn't�"

"That bastard!" shrilled Kat. "That�"

"Katerina!"

The sharpness in Francesca's tone jolted her. "Yes?"

The courtesan was frowning. "Before you get
too
carried away with your own self-righteousness... A question: Did
you
ever tell this young man exactly who
you
were?"

Kat's face closed down. "No."

"Why not?"

After a moment, between tight lips: "Because."

Francesca chuckled dryly. "Ah, right.
'Because.'
Oh, you Venetian
Case Vecchie
! How quick you are to condemn others for your own sins."

Kat couldn't meet that sarcastic gaze. "My grandfather..." she whispered, trying to summon up a protest.

" 'Your grandfather,' " mimicked Francesca. "And you think Marco Valdosta isn't
also
thinking of a grandfather? A grandfather in a desperate position of his own, you know. Which an alliance with
Casa
Dorma in Venice would go a long way toward improving."

But Kat was in no mood to be calm and objective, much less charitable. "It's because she's pregnant," she hissed. "That
bastard.
Telling me�while he was�with her�"

"Go home, Kat," said Francesca wearily. "I'm tired, and you are obviously not willing to
think.
If you were, you might realize�"

"I'm not listening to any more!" snapped Kat, jumping to her feet. "I
hate
him!" She rushed for the entrance.

"Don't slam the door on your�"

Kat slammed the door on the way out.

Ugo Boldoni's poor little church was thinly attended for Lauds. It was not hard for him to spot an extra person in a hooded cloak, who waited until his early morning parishioners had left. He went back into the church where Katerina was waiting.

"And now, Katerina?" he asked the white-faced young woman who was standing chewing her lip, looking at the ground.

Katerina half-mumbled the next words. "Ugo, you're the only priest that I've known since we were both children... I need to find something out. I need to find out if someone is getting married."

Father Boldoni shrugged. "The banns will be read."

Kat shook her head. "I need to know now. I need to know... is... Marco Valdosta marrying Angelina Dorma?

"Not in my parish."

"Oh." Kat took another deep breath. "Well, can you find out for me? Please. I need to know
now
. Please."