Pietro detected an unvoiced laugh from Katerina. Himself, he was feeling uncomfortable, as if he were spying on Cangrande just by looking at this chart.
The astrologer continued. "The Scaliger's sun sign is Pisces, the last sign of the Zodiac. It has created in him a strong sense of his stature. Not that he wishes to aggrandize himself, of course. More that — how to say — he wishes to receive his due."
"That's only fair," said Pietro.
Ignazzio rolled up the chart. "All in all, it is the chart of a capable, intelligent man with finite potential. Being finite, that potential will be achieved. My man Theodoro here was present at the hour of his birth, he took the signs personally. Cangrande will succeed martially and politically."
"But no more," said Katerina, retrieving the scroll.
"Then what he told me is true," murmured Pietro. "He's not the Greyhound."
Katerina looked at him sharply. "He told you that? When?"
"The night at the church, just before-" He paused, glancing at the Moor and the astrologer.
"You may speak freely," said Katerina.
"Just before Cesco's mother arrived."
The lady clucked her tongue. "That night must have been harder on him than I supposed. Because it's true, Pietro. My brother is not Il Veltro."
As understanding dawned, Pietro glanced over at the child standing in his crib, holding on to the bars to keep himself upright. Mercurio was curled up next to the bars of the crib.
I know what you are, now, thought Pietro. Aloud he said, "Cesco is Il Veltro."
"Yes," said Katerina.
"And no," said the Moor.
Antonia entered the Basilica of San Zeno shaking from head to toe. Not from cold, but excitement. As the sanctuary was empty save for some monks, she retreated into the attached garden beside the river. Here on a bench was a man with a dark beard, hunched against the biting wind.
The long, almost beakish nose made her heart stop beating. Years of studying portraits had made her familiar with all her father's features. But that beard! Pietro had written of it, but she hadn't really expected something so huge and black that reached almost down to his breastbone.
She nearly cried out and ran to him, but checked herself sharply. Compose yourself! He won't appreciate a little girl. Forcing a measured walk, she crossed to his side — not in front of him, which would have demanded attention — and stood quietly waiting for him to look up. He was writing. How wonderful! He was writing!
For Dante's part, he was in the midst of penning the sixth canto of the new poem. Part of his mind registered the presence of a mortal being at his side, but she shared the space with Virgil and Sordello and the bulk of his attention was engaged in their meeting. After a time he glanced at her in annoyance. "I don't sign manuscripts," he said brusquely. "No matter what you may have been told."
"I know, Pater."
He continued to write, trying to banish the girl from his mind. Ella non ci dicëa alcuna cosa (she's still there) ma lasciavane gir (what was it she said?) solo sguardando a guisa di leon (she called me Pater — does she think I'm a priest?) quando si posa…
His head came up and looked at the girl, squinting hard. Slowly he laid his quill aside. Nodding once, he said, "Well met, Beatrice."
From that moment on, had he given her the back of his boot or berated her in the foulest terms imaginable, it would not have mattered. He'd already set the seal on the happiest day of Antonia's life.
"What do you mean, yes and no?"
Katerina said, "I believe he is."
Pietro looked at the Moor. "You're not sure?"
Ignazzio answered for him. "It may be in his stars. It may not. Sadly, I was not present for his birth. None of us were." He took a newer scroll from Katerina and began the work of breaking the seal.
Pietro pointed out an objection. "So why — I mean, why did we go to get him before a chart was even made?"
Ignazzio gestured to Katerina. "I also created a chart for the lady when she was young. It was unequivocal. A child given into her care, a child that was not her own, would grow up to be Il Veltro."
Pietro studied Katerina's composed face. "You thought it was your brother."
"I hoped so."
"So you raised him as if he were going to be the Greyhound."
"Yes."
"But you had his chart."
Katerina's eyes grew flinty. "Is that an accusation?"
"No! No, lady, I just… I'm just confused-"
The Moor's voice rasped painfully out of the scarred throat. "The chart said he would be a great man within Italy."
Katerina shook her head. "No, don't soften it. Pietro, I never told my brother he was the Greyhound. I never told him he wasn't. Because of his name, because of his extraordinary skill, people talked. If he listened, it is no fault of mine. I raised him, Pietro, as I saw fit. I believe I was successful. He reached his potential and more. If he assumed he was the mythic hero, it did no harm."
No harm? A man raised to believe himself a creature of destiny, only to discover his destiny belonged to another. It was a miracle he hadn't turned out to be a monster.
Katerina's lips turned down. "You will be gratified to learn the noble astrologer and his major domo here disagreed with me. When Francesco turned fifteen he was shown this chart, against my express wishes. After that, my relationship with my brother became somewhat — strained." Rising, she crossed to a brazier and prodded it with a poker. "But if that is the price I must pay, I will. It has always been my opinion that we must take an active hand in our fates. I intend to raise Cesco in the same manner I raised my brother — as if he were the Greyhound. If it proves not to be true, as it did with Cangrande, again there is no harm done." She used to poker to point at the new parchment now spread over Ignazzio's lap. "But look at it, Pietro. Look."
Pietro did. Immediately he could tell there was something wrong about it. Painted lines crossed each other, as in Cangrande's chart, but double thick, and double in number. This was because so many of the planets shared the same positions. The sun, Mercury, and Venus were all in the first house, clustered together. The latter two formed strong relationships with the moon, which was in Aries, while the sun formed a sextile with Leo. Other lines criss-crossed the chart, forming oddly beautiful geometrical patterns. He suddenly wished he knew more about the subject.
Ignazzio nodded. "Odd, is it not? Such clustering is rare."
"What does it mean?"
"It means that this person's character is full of contradictory impulses. The child's sun is in Gemini, ruled by Mercury, which is also in his first house. His personality, therefore, resonates with the traits of that planet. He will be restless, and will dabble in all manner of trades and experiences. He will be free, swift as quicksilver. He will prize his wit above all else.
"But then there is the moon — the first contradiction. It is in his eleventh house, in Aries, and also forms a strong relationship with Mercury. He will not be ruled by reason, but by dreams. It will cause unbalance in his emotions. He will be detached from them, as if in conflict between his mind and his heart. But because of the moon's similar relationship with Jupiter, he will suffer from an excess of emotion. Among the many ill-effects that may cause, the worst is that it may — may — dampen his ambition."
Pietro again glanced at the child in the crib who was paying no attention to the adults, fiddling with the bars on the far side of the crib, pulling at them and swinging himself back and forth, teasing the hound who jumped about with delight.