The Warring States (The Wave Trilogy) (39 page)

Doctor Ferruccio had fought alongside her grandfather at Montaperti, and had visited Tower Bardini from time to time when Sofia was growing up. He still wore the deep-blue ermine-lined cape she remembered. It was fretted with stars and had seemed as large as the sky on his great back. With his hoary white beard, wild hair, big, oft-broken nose and pendulous lips, he would have been ugly, if not for his gap-toothed smile and unassuming manner. He radiated the quiet confidence one often saw in old fighters; hard-won experience remained, even though that strength was gone. After the Wave struck Rasenna, Ferruccio had allied himself with the Doc because he was Sofia’s guardian, and because he was a fighter too.

‘They refused to participate on grounds that this is purely an Etrurian matter. I suppose that’s technically—’

‘They won’t even talk? A year ago they were all for attacking Concord. They volunteered to lead the vanguard!’

‘To be fair, Contessa, those were heady times. They had never seen Concord defeated. Few of us had. We thought anything was possible.’

Taranto, the most southerly city attending (no one even thought to invite the Sybariates), took a similar attitude: this was a northern Etrurian matter. Geographically and politically, Veii was somewhere in the middle, favouring vague treaties of mutual support rather than a league with a combined army.

‘Concord
is
on the brink of collapse,’ Levi said stoutly. He too was disappointed at the poor turnout.

Ferruccio grinned. ‘You don’t hunt, then, Podesta? The quarry’s most dangerous when wounded.’

Before Levi could answer, the procurator appeared behind them on the steps. His hairless dome reflected the rising sun.
‘A special someone wishes to make your acquaintance this morning. If you’ll follow me …’

In contrast to its clean marble exterior, the Basilica’s interior was smoky and cavernous. Although it was dark, Sofia could see the Ariminumese had adopted the Ebionites’ bizarre geometric iconography and fetish for golden ornament.

‘There he is!’ said the procurator brightly. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’

The ‘special someone’ was the city’s new Doge, but the round-faced boy plainly found greeting guests less interesting than torturing his black-and-white puppy. At the procurator’s prompting he mumbled a formulaic welcome, then sulkily retreated to the bishop’s throne in front of the Eucharistic tabernacle to pull the puppy’s ears. Next, the procurator introduced the basilica’s board, a perfunctory smile passing from one pale, dour face to the next. Sofia’s eyes skipped to the end of the row, to the looming figure waiting with muscular arms crossed over his bare black chest.

The smile on his smooth ebony face was unfeigned and terrifyingly wide, like some ever-hungering fish of the deep. He wore pristine white baggy trousers with a high waist, with a dagger tucked inside his belt and hanging from it, a double-pronged blade as large as a Europan broadsword but curved like an Anglish longbow. His open silk undershirt was a fiery orange; the wide cuffs were visible under the short sleeves of his white jacket. He was bedecked like a war stallion in rings, earrings and necklaces, and the effect was vulgarly virile. His wide shoulders were covered by a light cloak that fastened around his bull-like neck with an oversized ornamented pin.

‘Lastly, I give you our new admiral, the honourable—’

‘Captain Levi and I have already been introduced.’

The ambassador from Pescara had paled at first sight of the
admiral. He turned on his heels and stalked out of the Basilica, muttering in outrage.

‘Shalom aleikhem
, Azizi,’ Levi said. ‘It’s Podesta now. I see you still have the same effect on tender hearts.’

‘Aleikhem shalom
. So I am informed.’ His deep voice had the timbre of creaking ropes, and an ebullient mockery. ‘Forgive me; I hesitated to congratulate you on your promotion, no doubt richly deserved, before I had opportunity to offer my inadequate but heartfelt condolences for the way you came by it. At least the old bull gave the Twelfth a hiding on the way out, eh?’

The Moor was close to six braccia from the smooth dome of his head to his sandals. His skin was blacker than any Sicilian’s, blacker than boiled tar, but there was a captive rainbow in its oily depths; in one light it had cold crocus hues, in another, the appetising brown of scorched chestnuts. Though his Etrurian was faultless, he spoke as though reciting strange verse. He paused at odd times, emphasising words without concern for context or meaning, as if each sound had a flavour to savour.

‘When John Acuto bet, he bet big.’ Levi clicked his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. ‘Come to think of it, didn’t
you
once make a bet with him—?’

‘That promise died with John Acuto!’ The Moor’s anger dissipated as quickly as it had fired up. ‘But for what it is worth, I didn’t return voluntarily. I grieve for him truly. He was a born condottiere.’

‘He was a knight,’ Sofia interjected.

The Moor threw back his head and laughed:
Haw Haw Haw!
His teeth were like stars in a black sky, too many. ‘A knight! Capital! Little girl, I have hunted mermaids, and the dragon of the Middle Sea has hunted me, but even I do not believe in
knights
. John Acuto never did a deed that did not profit John Acuto.’ The Moor examined Levi again. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve become a knight too? That would be too great a shock.’

‘In any another venue,’ Sofia said seriously, ‘I’d make you regret that.’

His smile disappeared, but his teeth remained bared. ‘And if you were not with child, I should give you the beating you plainly require. Rasenna must be short of men to send a roundwombed girl to fight for it.’

‘Ariminum must have the same problem,’ Sofia retorted, ‘to promote a filthy galley-slave to admiral.’

At this the Moor laughed again, but as Sofia maintained her composure, she wondered if this barbarian was especially observant, or if her condition was now obvious to all and only a barbarian was ungracious enough to mention it.

Presently he stopped laughing and bowed low. ‘Forgive me, Contessa, for teasing. Of course I know who you are. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some galley slaves to promote.’

He stalked out, trailing rumbling laughter, followed by two soldiers. Sofia suspected their job was not to protect the admiral. The grim fate of the last Signoria made it clear that Ariminumese loyalty was a mutable thing.

Levi turned to the procurator with fire in his eyes. ‘That pirate will betray you the first chance he gets! What are you smiling at?’

‘Forgive me,’ the procurator said stifling a giggle, and there was a brief silence in which only the yelping puppy was heard. ‘Surely you see the humour of a condottiere giving lectures on loyalty?’

‘Former
condottiere. And no matter how many doges you strangle, we won’t forget that you’re the ones who double-crossed the Hawk’s Company. What did the Moor mean, that he didn’t return here voluntarily?’

‘What the Contessa said about making a galley-slave an admiral was impolite, but not altogether inaccurate. He arrived on the
Tancred
wearing chains.’ The procurator’s teasing manner
vanished. ‘Believe me, Signore, we’re not naïve. It’s because the Moor’s loyalty
is
for sale that we trust him. His fidelity’s guaranteed because no one pays as well as we.’

‘If you give him your navy, you might as well give him the keys to your treasury while you’re at it.’

The procurator shook his head. ‘We must agree to differ.’ He rang a tiny bell and announced, ‘Esteemed guests, before we dive into the sordid details, let’s turn our minds to more elevated matters and pray for a fair wind in this venture. In the name of the Father and of the Mother and …’

After the morning’s formalities, there was an adjournment. The Rasenneisi retired to their apartments. Pedro carefully lined up the annunciators on the windowsill while Sofia and Levi conferred.

‘Who was that impudent black?’ Sofia asked. ‘A condottiere?’

‘A company captain, the only one who never learned the rules.’

‘Rules?’ she said archly.

‘I didn’t know there were regulations concerning pillaging,’ Pedro added.

Levi took their mocking well.
‘Steps
, I should say. The dance of the condottieri, march and counter-march, until one side runs out of gold or the other makes a better offer. Nobody danced it better than John Acuto. The Moor wasn’t interested in dancing, or even in money; he loves only gambling. We made it our business to keep Etruria divided, to keep the States balanced against each other, but the Moor upset the whole racket and everyone agreed he had to go. The captains of other companies wanted to unite our armies and crush him. John Acuto had a simpler solution: he would do it alone, for a fee. And the other captains needed pay him only
if
he got the Moor to leave.’

‘Sweet deal.’

‘Very sweet. He offered the Moor a wager: the loser would leave Etruria to the other. The Moor couldn’t resist. He forgot that John Acuto was Fortune’s favourite.’

‘Did he keep his word?’

‘Yes, but after that John Acuto was never again lucky.’

‘Maybe he used up his luck in that one throw,’ Pedro said, aiming his whistler at a distant galley and taking a reading.

‘Maybe,’ Levi said. ‘Where are you going, Sofia?’

‘Down to the harbour. I want a clear head for this afternoon.’

The old sailor’s talk of the desert yesterday had reminded Sofia of Isabella’s warning. She wanted to speak to him, alone this time. Levi, like most Etrurians, was hostile to Ebionites; even though the Curia was a memory, the polemics that had launched the Crusades lived on.

He spotted her from the
Tancred
’s prow and trotted down the gangway.

‘I came to apologise for my friend the other day.’

‘Forgotten already. Each day we start afresh,’ he said with a bow. ‘My name is Ezra. What is yours, Signorina?’

‘I think you already know,’ Sofia said carefully.

Ezra glanced around and said in a hushed voice, ‘I don’t wish to be indiscreet, Contessa. Last time we met, you were running from your name.’

‘I’m no longer Contessa, but I’ve stopped running.’

‘I expect you have, in your condition. At the risk of spoiling my record for discretion, I see you’ve a stowaway on board.’

Sofia blushed.

‘Congratulations! But as before, I assure you that all my hours are accounted for in my logbook. So if you’re looking for the father …’

‘I’m not.’ She patted her stomach. ‘This one’s father is a most
inconsistent fellow who promises much and delivers little.’

‘You mustn’t be vexed with those you love. Is he looking for you?’

‘No,’ Sofia said, ‘but someone else is. His father has enemies.’

He looked at her keenly. ‘Ah. Then it isn’t true that you’ve stopped running. You’re in good company. God is a fugitive in this world. He must race on the winds with the jinn and in the depths with the buio, where none but the righteous dare follow.’

‘Why must we do all the work?’

Ezra laughed. ‘Little sister, in this war we are only flag-bearers. There are armies clashing behind the night, in the cold vistas between the stars. We cannot hear them, but this battle raged before we came and will continue after we’ve gone. The stakes are immense, and a more prudent general would not hesitate to sacrifice us like pawns.’

‘God is not prudent?’

‘When it comes to His children, God is downright prodigal.’