Dante had been granted a set of rooms, and Morsicato had given the poet a sleeping draught. Jacopo was still at the revels by the hillside. Antonia was off with Gianozza somewhere. Bailardino, one of the few who knew of their return to the city, had stopped by briefly to pay his respects, but spent the rest of the time divided between his frightened son and his pregnant, injured wife. Left alone, Pietro had wandered up here, leaning heavily on his bloodied cane.
He'd heard the news of Lord Montecchio's death with real anguish. By now it was also common knowledge that the girl had been out during the day, and had spoken to Antony. She said she had seen him drop the silver dagger before leaving her. Pietro's sister had confirmed this. So the damning piece of evidence against Antony was now gone. There would be no trial, no execution. Everyone now believed that Pathino had found the knife and used it to steal lord Montecchio's horse.
Everyone except Mari, of course.
Bailardino had brought that news back with him. He also brought word that they had found Ferdinando's body. Bonaventura's cousin had never reached Detto's hiding place, but had fallen into the covered pit, the same trap that Mercurio had saved Pietro from entering just minutes earlier. It seemed Ferdinando had survived the fall only to be kicked to death by his thrashing horse. A horrible death.
It's my fault. Why didn't I warn him about it? I saw it and didn't even think to warn him. My fault…
Behind him a trapdoor opened and someone climbed the stairs to the roof. Listening to the fall of footsteps he knew precisely who it was. In the shadow of the turret Pietro was invisible, and he decided to stay that way.
"A lovely night," remarked Cangrande. "How are you feeling?"
At first Pietro thought the Scaliger was addressing him. Then he heard Katerina's voice. "Tired. My hand will look somewhat like al-Dhaamin's neck."
Shifting in his shadow, Pietro saw both brother and sister. Even after such a terrible day, even with her hand wrapped in salve and bandages, the lady was as perfect as the very first time Pietro had seen her. She had resumed her usual attire, her gown's hem barely brushing the rooftop. Cangrande too was immaculate in fresh clothes, though his skin was still unnaturally dark.
"And Bailardino's next son?"
"The baby should be fine."
"Regardless, you should be in bed."
"Morsicato has prescribed complete rest, but that is difficult to achieve with the Count raving like a lunatic in my own chambers."
"So you came hunting for me."
"Tharwat kindly offered to sit with the Count and transcribe all his visions, in case there are some portents in the man's dying imagination. Is there any news of Pathino?"
"Yes, in fact. We traced him to Schio, where he traded Montecchio's horse for another. Another vindication for Capulletto. Pathino seems to be headed for Venice. From there he can take ship to anywhere in the world. We'll try to head him off."
Pietro wondered if he was going to be sent to hunt Pathino again. It would be easier this time, knowing the man's name. In fact, it could be a good excuse to escape the quarrel between his two friends. That, and the other thing preying on his mind.
Because he was thinking it, he was startled to hear Cangrande say, "There's something troubling Pietro."
"I expect he wants to know the same thing I do. Though I doubt he has realized all your perfidies. Shall we begin?"
Cangrande drew his sword, the sword of his father, and began stroking the edge with a small honing stone. "It isn't fair. You're wounded."
"My soul, however, has never been more at ease."
"And if mine is not, that sets us on equal footing?"
"Your wounds don't show, is all. The time has come for us to have it out."
Cangrande threw back his head. "A duel! Excellent. As the challenged party, I have the honour of choosing the weapons. I choose Truth."
"Really? Perhaps I should go fetch Pietro. No doubt he would love to hear something so rare from you."
"Ah, we might as well begin there. What do you know of spies and what not?"
The lady's eyebrows arched. "I know you employ informants. These past few months, you are better informed than you used to be."
Cangrande raised a finger, wagging it in the air. "Ah, but did you ever wonder how I was receiving the information? Through whom?"
Light dawned. "Pietro." Her voice was grave, and in his shadowy perch Pietro felt a flush of guilt.
"Pietro," confirmed Cangrande. "You thought we were estranged, and you thought you knew why. But really I'd given him a task, a quest. With Tharwat acting as his eyes, Pietro was to track down the kidnapper."
"I see. A shame he didn't have all the necessary information. But today you were seen fighting side by side. How will that affect your fictional feud?"
"We'll say he and I fought together grudgingly, for the sake of your child. It is no secret how fond he is of you. Rather like a puppy." Hearing this, Pietro reddened. "I will rebuke him publicly, and he will return to Ravenna, smarting."
Pietro sat up straight. He'd thought that, after today, he'd be returning to Verona with all honour restored!
Katerina said, "I see I shall have to divorce him from you. I had no idea he was so much your creature."
"As much yours as mine, but that's not to the point. How do you intend the divorce?"
"What were your orders at Calvatone?"
Cangrande scowled slightly, laying his sword against the parapet. The lady pointed out, "You made the rules. You chose the weapons. You cannot complain of them now."
"True, true." Cangrande looked up at the night sky and sighed. "I ordered the town sacked. I ordered every woman and child raped, the men tortured, then all put to the sword. Havoc. That really was my seal."
"Why?" asked Katerina, echoing Pietro's horrified thought.
"Oh, it's obvious enough. A reputation for savagery is almost as useful as one of clemency. Ask Caesar. Or better, Sulla."
"And yet you had your German commanders executed for disobeying you."
"Yes, well, I couldn't have that sort of thing stain my honour. It's a pity, they were loyal men. Is that all you have, my dear? Perhaps you do require bed rest."
"Oh, surely you recognize an opening gambit."
"Testing my walls, looking for a breach? Then you'll set your siege weapons to work?"
"If necessary. I rather think I'll be able to find a tunnel through. Let's move on to the Moor. You recall that, directly after Cesco came into my care, I summoned al-Dhaamin to produce one of his miraculous charts for us. Upon arriving in Venice, he and Ignazzio were assaulted. Was the Count was responsible for that?"
"Of course not. Until today the good Bonifacio had no notion of your passion for astrology."
"Then whom do you suppose set the murderers at the heels of the astrologers?"
Cangrande shrugged. "There are really only two choices."
"I doubt your wife knew enough about al-Dhaamin at the time to guess at his coming."
Cangrande clapped his hands. "Very good! Oh, Kat, I didn't know you had it in you. I will confess. I tried to have them killed."
Katerina clucked her tongue. "And after Tharwat was so good as to reveal your star chart to you when you came of age."
"A true ingrate I am."
"Yet he continues to live. No doubt you've had plenty of opportunities since then."
"Yes, but once he completed the boy's chart, he could do no more damage. In fact, he's proved useful at times."
"I'm sure. I move on now to a matter more pressing."
"Giovanna?"
"No, not yet. I want to ask about Morsicato. I want to know what really happened on the road between the cave and our carriage."