The Boy Who Wept Blood (6 page)

10

Demesne Adjourned
–
15 Giugno
325

The Ravenscourt was at the heart of Demesne, a vast circular chamber with a domed and coffered roof. Windows allowed shafts of sunlight to stream in, stilettos of white piercing the dark. A viewing gallery framed three quarters of the circumference where
cittadini
could view the proceedings, another of Anea’s ideas. Few
cittadini
attended; the gallery was the domain of merchants and untitled bravos clinging to ambitions of power. Doric columns supported the gallery, lending the chamber further vastness and solemnity.

Dino remained by the double doors, watching the assembly from the rear. Lady Araneae Oscuro Diaspora waited on the wide oak chair that served as her throne, a decidedly mundane affair on a broad dais at the far side of the chamber. She wore her usual turquoise gown. A headpiece of golden crêpe and lace sat atop her head like a fan, sweeping back from her brow. She’d retained the same black veil and gloves that she’d worn to the funeral, eschewing the crisp white she usually favoured. Few if any could miss the intent, gravitas painfully evident. Anea sat, chin raised, shoulders back, while the nobles on the floor whispered among themselves. Five banners hung from the wall behind her, one for each of the great houses, her own turquoise and gold banner at the centre.

The Domina slammed her staff against the dais floor three times. ‘This session of the Ravenscourt is now in progress.’

Maestro Cherubini stepped forward, struggling to overcome the bulk of his gown and doublet, sweating freely in the heat.

‘If I may,’ said Cherubini. The Domina gave a curt nod. The
maestro
swept his eyes across the room, addressing the many nobles: ‘I would like to condemn the recent attack against Lady Diaspora. This stains our reputation as a democratic, intelligent people.’

‘But we’re not democratic,’ whispered someone close to Dino, who glared toward the source, unable to determine the speaker in the crowd.

Cherubini hadn’t noticed the heckle and continued:

‘These actions serve no one. I appeal for unity among the
nobili
at this difficult time. Let us come together and resolve our differences amicably.’

The
maestro
bowed toward the dais and withdrew, taking up a position alongside Lady Stephania, who patted his forearm. She whispered something from behind her fan. The other nobles shifted in the heat, exchanging wary looks.

Lady Allattamento stood on the far left of the chamber, flanked by her daughters, fans thrumming like hummingbird wings, enjoying a sliver of shade provided by the gallery above. Lady Allattamento was a mature woman, spare of frame and feature, olive-skinned and well preserved. She had worn her hair down since her husband’s death. It fell in oiled black ringlets about her high cheekbones. There was a good deal of gold about the woman – fingers, ears and neck – but her gowns were many seasons out of date. A self-satisfied smirk played about her lips that roused Dino’s temper.

Anea used the pause in proceedings to tap on the heavy wood of the throne with her fan. The Domina turned to her and the room caught its breath. Anea stood, flicking open the fan before moving to the front of the dais. Russo took this as her cue to begin.

‘Lady Araneae Oscuro Diaspora, ruler of Landfall, has come to a decision regarding the recent attempt on her life.’ Anea’s eyes drifted to Lady Allattamento and her entourage, but not before casting a glance toward Duke and Duchess Fontein. Few if any could have missed the insinuation.

‘Please, my lady,’ said Lady Allattamento in warm tones, forcing a smile, ‘do not punish me for the actions of one wayward son, now dead by the cruel consequence of his actions. I have already lost one son to tragedy and the other to estrangement.’

‘It has been decided,’ continued the Domina, ‘that House Allattamento is to give up the three farms it owns as reparation to Lady Diaspora.’

Hissed intakes of breath around the Ravenscourt, a cry of dismay from near the back.

‘These farms shall become the property of the families who work on them.’

The chamber filled with full-voiced disapproval, angry voices silenced by three shuddering booms of the Domina’s staff on the dais.

‘I will have order!’

The discord abated.

Lady Allattamento’s younger daughter, Viola, chose this as her moment to faint. Dino watched the collapse with cynicism. More theatre to embellish the scandal. The viewers in the gallery were ecstatic with the performance. Laughter echoed from above.

‘There is no proof Lady Allattamento colluded with her son,’ shouted the
capo.

Dino stepped forward, shouldering his way past a few minor dignitaries, taking up a position alongside Margravio Contadino. He felt the eyes of the chamber follow him. There were a few whispers, mainly from behind fans. The men stared with open disdain or vestiges of proud approval. Massimo nodded to him, looking handsome as ever, immaculate and alert.

‘Perhaps the
capo
knows where Angelo Allattamento secured the funds to pay off the two guards?’ Dino looked around to make sure he commanded the attention of everyone present. ‘Guards who should have been outside my sister’s door.’

‘I know nothing of the sort,’ said the
capo
.

‘Lady Diaspora, please,’ protested Lady Allattamento, ‘I had no idea. Surely the loss of my son and the shame he has brought my house is reparation enough?’

Anea dropped the black fan, which hit the floor and lay like a struck raven. She stepped down from the dais, green eyes dangerous, skirts hissing across the flagstones in her wake. Lady Allattamento shrank from her like a creature hunted. Anea’s hands began to flicker.

‘Your son told me he brought a message from the
nobili
,’ translated Dino, ‘a message to put an end to any dreams of a republic.’

Anea had drawn close to Lady Allattamento now, within arm’s reach. Those nearby melted away, afraid they too would be feel the heat of Anea’s wrath.

‘You may retain your apartments in Demesne and the family estate,’ continued Dino, watching Anea’s fingers. ‘I may be persuaded to return one of the farms to you should you come by any information regarding your son’s fellow conspirators.’

‘This is outrageous,’ blurted the
capo.

‘Hold your tongue or I will remove it,’ growled Dino.

The room settled into uncomfortable silence as the two men glowered at each other. Two porters struggled to carry Viola from the Ravenscourt with dignity. Anea retook her place on the dais and Virmyre appeared behind the throne, lurking over her right shoulder. Margravio Contadino coughed politely into his fist and stepped forward. The Domina favoured him with a curt nod while Anea took a moment to settle herself on her seat.

‘My Lady Diaspora, I regret to inform you that we are seeing a rise in prices from the farms.’

‘A spike in prices would be a more adequate summary,’ drawled Duke Fontein. He was wearing leather armour despite the heat and bore an elaborate blade on his hip. Sashes of scarlet and black were tied on his sword arm. His hair and beard were entirely white, a contrast to his deep brown eyes.

Margravio Contadino stared back. The scar through his right eyebrow made the already severe-looking noble seem uncouth and dangerous.

‘The high prices are due in part to the ant infestation. I’m sure everyone is aware that we are heading toward drought. Crops will become more expensive in the coming months.’

A murmur of disapproval, the shuffling of feet; some half-hearted retorts were lost in the noise.

‘The reason food is so expensive is because the farmers themselves are dictating the prices,’ said Duchess Prospero, fanning herself.

‘I’d imagine your many servants eat better than their children do, my lady,’ replied Margravio Contadino. His lips were drawn thin behind the strip goatee and moustache he wore.

‘Well, if the farmers are not receiving the money then who is?’ This from Duke Fontein again. It was a common scene at court: Prospero and Fontein shoulder to shoulder against any reforms, all too ready to complain when laws or economics went awry.

‘I assure you, Lord Fontein, my house takes a very small percentage after the farmers have taken what is rightfully theirs and taxes have been paid,’ said the
margravio
.

‘I’ve never really understood how your house earns its keep,’ replied Duke Fontein, eyes still intent on Margravio Contadino. ‘I’m sure it would make for fascinating reading.’ He crossed his arms and smiled without warmth.

‘Perhaps you should cart your own turnips in future if you object to the fees,’ said Dino.

A few giggles from one side of the room and the gallery above, a histrionic intake of breath from behind Duchess Fontein.

‘Let us not forget the population has increased considerably of late,’ added Cherubini, keen to provide facts. ‘The cost of all food is at a premium.’

‘Enough,’ said Russo. ‘Lady Diaspora wishes to make a further announcement.’

The nobles turned away from the dispute between Fontein and Contadino to Russo, who looked as curious as the rest as to what would come next

‘
Nobili
of Demesne, leaders of houses great and minor, messengers,
professori
, artisans, merchants, it has not escaped my notice that there have been many changes in the last decade.’ Murmured agreement, most of it bitter. Anea’s hands continued to sign; the Domina continued to translate. ‘And so I declare a period of consolidation. The Ravenscourt will adjourn for three months.’

Dino noted the genuine astonishment in the faces of everyone in the chamber, not least the Domina.

‘During this time I shall be working closely with Professore Virmyre. As many of you know, we have made significant advances in the sciences recently, not least in the prevention of diseases, the delivery of our young and providing clean water.’

This was undeniable. Part of Demesne’s recent population swell was due to secrets gleaned from the king’s machines.

‘Perhaps you can do something about the ants!’ shouted someone from the gallery, prompting a round of laughter. Dino clenched his jaw.

‘We will reconvene in three months’ time,’ continued the Domina, still translating, ‘when I hope I can count on your support. It would be unfortunate if you continued your current course of internecine bickering.’ A pause. ‘To safeguard against any misunderstandings –’ Anea dared to look directly at Duke Fontein, who stood taller and raised his chin defiantly ‘– I will be entrusting the Domina with the day-to-day affairs of the castle. You will give her your full and unflagging cooperation.’

Anea stepped down from the dais, cutting a route through the slack-jawed functionaries and courtiers. The nobles had the good grace to bow their heads as she passed. Virmyre followed, face inscrutable.

There was a minute of hushed incredulity in the Ravenscourt following Anea’s exit. Russo looked pale on the dais, gaze unfocused, attempting to keep the frown from her face. Duke and Duchess Fontein wasted no time in retiring from the chamber, locked in animated discussion with Duchess Prospero. The
capo
trailed after them, apparently too stunned to speak. Maestro Cherubini imparted a few words to Russo before he too left. Stephania approached and curtsied to Dino.

‘Did you have any …’

‘None at all.’ Dino shrugged. ‘An adjournment does make a certain amount of sense.’

‘But now? And for three months?’

‘There’s nothing here that can’t be done by Russo. I can’t say I blame her. Not after the other night.’

Stephania nodded. ‘No wonder she wants to lose herself in her work.’

‘She always wants to lose herself in her work; Angelo Allattamento just provided the excuse.’

‘Keep safe, my lord.’

‘You don’t have to call me lord.’ Dino struggled not to roll his eyes.

‘We are in the Ravenscourt: we should act accordingly.’

‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’

‘Send word if you should need me.’ Stephania curtsied and withdrew.

Gradually, in groups of threes and fours, the chamber emptied. Even the guards departed after a time, until only Russo and Dino remained, flanked on every side by thick white stone columns. The Ravenscourt darkened as the sun passed behind a cloud. Dino drifted toward the dais and retrieved the dropped fan.

‘Judging by the look on your face, I’d guess Anea didn’t tell you about the adjournment beforehand?’ He opened the fan slowly, noting tiny prints of birds in dark silver. Ravens, of course.

Russo shook her head. ‘Even after all this time she’s still unpredictable.’ Every syllable was weighted with anger barely held in check. ‘Did you know?’

‘Of course not. We briefly discussed recruiting new soldiers but …’ Dino folded the fan, sliding it into his sleeve.

‘Ten years I’ve been working for her, Dino.’ Russo’s brow creased. ‘Ten years I’ve been working
with
her. You’d think she’d keep me informed of something this important. Suddenly I have the whole of Landfall entrusted to me.’

‘It’s
because
she trusts you that she’s turned Landfall over to you.’

‘Really? Because I don’t feel trusted.’ Russo bowed her head as if humbled or shamed. ‘She tells Virmyre everything. Some days I’m not even granted an audience, just messengers bringing me hurried scrawls.’ Russo looked down, fingers squeezed tight around the silver staff, lips pressed into a thin line.

‘She’s obsessed with those machines,’ said Dino softly. ‘She always has been’.

‘And now with the attempted assassination …’ said Russo, meeting his eyes for the first time.

‘What are you going to do?’

She looked at him blankly, then cast her eyes across the chamber and up to the gallery. For a second he’d thought she’d calmed down.

‘I’m going to make sure none of those bastards disturb her work. I already have an idea forming.’

‘Is that so?’ Dino forced a smile. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He looked up to the dome. The clouds had thickened, the room descending into a deeper darkness.