Stella snorted. "It must be those Corfiote women hidden down in the Arsenal."
Maria gaped at her. "How—?"
Stella shrugged. "The contessa is forever helping women. So it had to be a women's problem, and if it involves Umberto and the Little Arsenal, then that must be it."
"But how did you know about it?"
"I have my sources."
Maria scowled at her. "I need to know."
Stella looked mischievous. "If you must know, Alberto found them. He went up to the top sheds to look for some missing tools a few days ago. They've got lookouts, and they hide if someone goes to the timber-stores. But Alberto took a shortcut up the wall. He's lazy, and it saved him a walk. So he came up to the upper gate very suddenly. A couple of the big porters tried to head him off, but you know Alberto, he's like pig after truffles when he gets onto something. And he speaks Greek so he gets on with the boys. So . . . because he was a friend of theirs, they put off hitting him over the head until it was too late. There was a bit of a scuffle, but my Alberto is quite solid."
He was indeed. A very large, amiable man. "And what happened then?"
"Well, you know what Alberto's like. Soft as goose grease with children. Of course he promised he wouldn't tell a soul." Stella smirked. "I had it out of him in two shakes. He's like you, Maria. A terrible liar."
"And so? Does the whole town know?"
"Not from me. It's all very well saying they shouldn't be there, but what kind of person would leave them outside the walls? The Croats and Hungarians—" She shuddered. "They're like wolves with two legs, Maria. But somebody else has found out about them. I've heard two juicy rumors about it already, as I said to Francesca."
Well, then. "I think you should take me down there to meet them. The contessa's right. This is going to blow wide open soon, and I'll need to work on Umberto about this. The scuolo need to stand by them."
"Most of the guildsmen don't like the Corfiotes much," said Stella doubtfully.
"But they like the Case Vecchie trespassing on their areas even less," Maria pointed out. "The scuolo are touchy about their rights and privileges. The porters and laborers at the Little Arsenal are ours. And if I can convince Umberto of this, and you get Alberto to back him up, we'll be able to sway the rest of them."
Stella pulled a wry face. "Especially if that idiot Tomaselli puts all their backs up like he usually manages to do." Her eyes lit up. "The latest malicious gossip is about Sophia, believe it or not. She's been slipping out of the fortress to come and see a lover down in the old town!"
Maria snorted. "I didn't think anyone was that desperate."
Stella giggled in a worldly-wise fashion. "Honey, there are some men that would make love to a hole in the wall. And others, like Alberto, who would just fall asleep. I'm going to ration his wine soon."
"If you take me down to meet the women hiding out in the wood-store, I'll give you a drop of this perfume to put behind your ears." Maria showed her the bottle. "It was given to me by the contessa. She guaranteed it would even wake her old man up."
Stella chuckled throatily. "If it can wake that old man up, it should be called resurrection juice, not perfume. You're on, sister."
* * *
When Maria went down to the wood-store with Stella, she was shocked by the thinness of the women, and by their obvious desperation.
"We can't go on like this, kyria," said one young girl—barely sixteen and trying to nurse a pair of twins. "I just don't have milk for them any more."
Maria took a deep breath. "We're going to sort this out. By tomorrow. Nobody should have to starve like this."
"We expected the siege to be over in a few weeks at most. When will help come from Venice?" asked an older woman bitterly. "Are we only worth keeping as expendable serfs, and not worth protecting?"
Maria looked her straight in the eye. "Venice had to be told before they could mount a rescue. And the Island is blockaded. You know that. I can tell you this much—a messenger has gone over to Italy, taking word to Venice, a clever messenger, who can get past anything."
She wondered just where Benito was, and uttered a silent prayer for his well-being. "The Republic won't fail you. And the scuolo won't fail you either. Your men work for us. It's up to us to care for you."
She was surprised by the hastily hushed cheers.
* * *
That evening Umberto arrived home a little late and looking worried. He didn't even notice Maria's belladonna-widened eyes at first. He was just looking gray and stooped. He took the cup of wine gratefully from her hand, then swallowed a long, appreciative draft. And then blinked at his wife. "You're looking beautiful tonight, dear. And your hair is done up in that way I like so." His nose twitched. He smiled tiredly. "I'm a lucky man. And I don't appreciate you enough. And how is our little girl tonight?"
Maria felt truly guilty. Like a complete slut. "She's fine, asleep now," she said gruffly. She decided that directness and honesty suited her better than feminine wiles. She was better at those than seduction anyway. "Umberto. I need to talk to you about the wives of the Corfiote laborers."
"They're hiding in the back sheds at the Little Arsenal," he replied conversationally.
She didn't need the belladonna to widen her eyes. Had everyone known except her?
"I'm sorry dear," he said apologetically. "That's what kept me. There was a fight between one of the Illyrians and a Corfiote—something to do with the women. I'm afraid both of them are with the hospitalers. I had to see to it."
"Oh, hell!" she said in dismay. "Will this mean fighting between the Illyrians and Corfiotes?"
He actually laughed. "Not unless they both don't recover from being hit by me with a cladding plank."
She stared, seeing a man she hadn't known hiding in Umberto's very ordinary frame.
"I had to do something," he said, uncomfortably. "The Corfiote accused the Illyrian of betraying the women to the guards. But Guildmaster Grisini asked the guard to organize more food, quietly."
"Two guards called Oliviolo and Nona."
It was Umberto's turn to gape at her. "How did you know—?"
"Because far from organizing more food, the pair of bastards have been extorting money and food from the Corfiotes," she told him with savage satisfaction. "The Corfiotes blame the Illyrians, which is where your knife-fight came from."
Umberto shook his head. "I don't understand them. They're our people. Why didn't they come to us? The scuolo looks after its own."
Looking at him with a mixture of pride and love, Maria realized that the perfume probably wasn't wasted after all. And she realized that—just as old women always said—you didn't have to be in love with the man you married to learn to love him. "Can I get you some supper?" she asked, rubbing his shoulders.