City of Flowers (33 page)

The soldiers who had been entrusted with the Nucci had not been able to march them back to the palazzo, whose dungeons were anyway flooded. The squad had broken up into a second riot as soldiers and prisoners scrambled for their lives out of the way of the incoming waters. Matteo and Graziella ran with their daughters and remaining supporters to a nearby tower of the Salvini family, who were sympathetic to their faction. They hammered on the doors for entrance, the water now up to their waists. Ladders were let down from an upper floor and they climbed up, the women hindered by their sodden wedding finery. But at last they were all safe, at least until the waters went down, and could give way to their grief for Camillo and their fears for the only remaining Nucci son.

*

Arianna tended Barbara herself, undoing the fastenings on the dress that had betrayed her into danger. Luciano refused to leave them, even though the maid was now in her shift and her white breast exposed, with an ugly bleeding gash in it.

‘It was my fault she got hurt, Luciano,' sobbed Arianna. ‘I didn't mean anyone but the Duke to think she was me. He said if I wore the dress, he'd know my answer to his proposal.'

‘So he did ask you, then?' said Luciano, thinking how odd it was to be talking about this while people lay dying and the waters swirled through the city.

‘You knew he was going to?'

Luciano nodded.

‘It was last night, during the dance. He put the vile crown on my head.' She shuddered. ‘And now Barbara may die because I was too much of a coward to say no straightaway.'

‘Not if I can help it,' said Sulien, coming to the girl's bed. He examined the wound carefully and asked one of the nuns to bring him the remedies he needed. ‘It's not too deep,' he said. ‘A little lower and the blade would have pierced her heart. The attacker cannot have had a clear aim.'

‘Parola foiled him,' said Luciano. ‘But Arianna finished him off.'

Arianna was shaking. Her mother ran to her and caught her in her arms. ‘You are all right?' she asked.

Arianna nodded. ‘As you see,' she said, ‘Barbara took the blow meant for me.'

‘Quickly,' said Silvia. ‘Get into that wretched dress and lay the maid's one across the bed.'

‘Why?' asked Arianna.

‘Because we don't know who attacked you and why,' said Silvia.

‘It was one of the Nucci,' said Luciano. ‘I saw him.'

‘And you know a Nucci sympathiser from a di Chimici agent?' asked Silvia. ‘The Grand Duke must have taken your wearing the dress as assent, Arianna. Let him go on thinking that for a while.'

Silvia helped Arianna out of the plain green gown and into the Grand Duke's gift. Her daughter hated it even more now that it was slashed by a dagger and stained with blood.

‘Don't just stand there,' Silvia said to Luciano, who was trying to keep up with the turn of events. ‘Get Arianna's hair out of those plaits, while I try and turn Barbara back into a maid.'

Arianna's hair tumbled down as Luciano uncoiled and released the braids. He passed her the silver mask and veil while Silvia undid the elaborate coiffure Arianna and Barbara had constructed together a few hours earlier. While she gently teased out the curls of it, Barbara revived. She looked at Silvia out of cloudy eyes.

‘Brave girl,' said Silvia. ‘You have saved the Duchessa's life.'

‘And Parola saved hers,' said Luciano. ‘He deflected the blade.'

‘Did he now?' asked Silvia, interested. ‘What a remarkable young man he is. Sulien, what can you do for the girl?'

Brother Sulien was bathing the wound with an infusion of herbs brought by the nun.

‘This will help,' he said. ‘But I'll need to sew the wound together. It will hurt, so I must give her a soporific. But I am greatly hampered by not being able to fetch things from my pharmacy.'

‘I'll go,' said Luciano. ‘Make me a list.'

‘It's too dangerous,' said Arianna. ‘The flood waters are still rising. How will you get there?'

‘Don't worry – I'll find a way,' said Luciano.

*

Georgia ran into Sky on the stairs up to the higher floor of the Ospedale.

‘Thank God,' she said. ‘You're all right?'

‘I've got a slash in my arm,' he said. ‘But not too bad. Did you see what happened to the others?'

Georgia nodded. She didn't want to think about the bodies which she had seen carried out of the church.

‘How's Nick?' she asked instead.

‘I'm looking for him,' said Sky. ‘I'm hoping he's upstairs with the uninjured people.'

They clung together for a moment on the stairs.

‘It was so horrible,' said Georgia. ‘I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it – the blood and the smell.'

‘Me neither,' said Sky, patting her back awkwardly. He thought again how glad he was that Alice had decided not to return to Giglia. It hadn't been exciting and glamorous when the wedding attack came. It had been the most horrible quarter of an hour of his life. And in the end the Stravaganti had been powerless to stop it.

‘Do you know if Gaetano is going to be OK?' asked Georgia.

‘No,' said Sky. ‘I reckon if anyone can save him, Sulien will. But he's cut off from his medicines.'

They walked up to the top floor, where Duke Alfonso had organised some fortified wine for the women and the other people who had not been hurt. His bride, Bianca, clung to his arm, terrified. He was the only uninjured groom and she could not believe that he had survived unscathed. His mother fussed over all the girls, especially her own daughter, Caterina, whose new husband lay badly hurt on the floor below.

Lucia, who had fought so bravely to save Carlo, though in vain, sat shocked and cold on the far side of the room. There was no sign of her parents, Jacopo and Carolina. Guido Parola had put his cloak over Lucia's shoulders and was trying to get her to sip the wine. The Pope, revived by the strong drink, turned to Alfonso.

‘We must get them warm. They are all soaked and shocked. Where are all the nuns?'

‘Tending to the wounded, I expect,' said Alfonso. ‘Perhaps Cousin Beatrice could help?'

‘I'll find her,' said Sky. ‘I know what she looks like.'

‘Well, I have no idea who you are,' said the Pope. ‘But if you can find my niece, I'll be grateful.'

‘Have you seen a young Dominican friar anywhere?' asked Georgia. ‘He was fighting in the church and we don't know if he's all right.'

But no one had seen Nicholas.

They found Beatrice with the Duke, who was sitting, dazed, while she bound his head. Sky ducked out of Niccolò's view and Georgia delivered the message.

‘I'll come,' said Beatrice. ‘Will you be all right if I leave you, Father?'

‘I shall go to my sons,' he said, his voice slurred, as if from strong drink.

‘That's probably where Nick is,' said Georgia to Sky. ‘With Gaetano.'

They followed the Duke at a distance to a separate cell. Gaetano and Fabrizio lay very still on beds next to each other. Sulien stood over them with a grave face. But there was no sign of Nicholas. They looked into the room next door and Georgia could not suppress a cry. There was just one bed in this cell and on it lay the body of Prince Carlo, his wedding finery soaked in blood. Curled up between the bed and the wall, looking like a bundle of black and white rags, lay Nicholas.

*

Enrico's first instinct when the flood waters had entered the square was to climb up to the top of the orphanage. From the roof he had seen bodies and wounded people carried out of the church and he knew that everything had gone horribly wrong, even though he couldn't tell who had been hurt. His first thought was that he might be held to blame – his intelligence hadn't helped to prevent a slaughter. But he didn't even know if the Grand Duke had survived; he waited alone on the roof for some time before deciding he would have to find out.

Cautiously he descended the stairs, looking into a room which he at first thought was full of nuns. But they had curled hair and their pale faces still bore rouge and they wore jewels at their throats. It was the princesses, who now looked like the widows they might be, for all Enrico knew, clad in black robes brought for them by the nuns. Their sumptuous wedding dresses lay crumpled and sodden on the floor, including one that had once been of gleaming white lace. It reminded Enrico of the one his Giuliana had ordered for their wedding.

His eye was drawn to the little red-headed princess; she was being comforted by a similar-looking tall young man, who must be some relative. The only prince in sight was Alfonso, who seemed to be all right. Enrico sighed with relief; there was one di Chimici bridegroom left standing at least. There was no sign of the Grand Duke.

He went down another flight, to the first floor. There, the large dormitory, usually full of babies and children, had been cleared and the wounded laid on their beds. Enrico couldn't see any of the di Chimici princes. Sulien was busy among the wounded. A flash of silver suddenly caught the Eel's eye. He moved slowly into the room.

A screen was partially obscuring the bed beside which the Duchessa sat and she was surrounded by bodyguards, but Enrico could see that, although the silver and gems of the dress she was wearing were encrusted with blood, the Duchessa herself did not seem hurt. She was holding the hand of her maid, who clearly
was
wounded. The squeamish spy stuffed his fist in his mouth when he saw the mutilated breast. There was another, older woman, sitting by the bed, whom he scarcely registered. But his mind was racing. Why would the maid be hurt and the Duchessa be unharmed? And why was the Duke's gift-dress so stained if no one had attacked the Duchessa?

*

Luciano didn't leave Arianna until Silvia had rounded up the remnants of her bodyguard and posted them round the bed where her daughter sat, holding her servant's hand. Then he went to look out of the window and was shocked by what he saw. The piazza where he had so often fenced with Gaetano was a sheet of water. The tops of the two fountains stuck up out of it and gave him some idea how deep the flood was. About five feet, he calculated, and probably still getting deeper.

The tops of the buildings were all full of people waving and shouting in a kind of parody of the way they had behaved when the wedding procession entered the square. Luciano couldn't believe how much had changed in such a short time. But, in spite of his promise to Sulien, he didn't see how he was to get to the friary, collect medicine and bring it back here.

He went out on to the landing and met Georgia and Sky, with Nicholas slung between them like a sack of potatoes.

‘What is it?' he asked. ‘Is he badly hurt?'

‘I don't think so,' said Sky, lowering the boy to the floor and wincing as his arm took the weight. ‘He was with Carlo.'

‘We think it's shock,' said Georgia. She was shaking herself. Suppose the Duke had gone next door to see his dead son and found two of them!

‘I'll fetch Sulien,' said Luciano.

The friar was busy. He had left the two princes for the moment, having their wounds bathed by nuns, and was attending to Filippo Nucci, but he came straightaway when Luciano told him about Nicholas. He lifted the boy and took him over to the stairs, where he examined him for signs of injury.

‘He has a wound much like yours, Sky,' he said. ‘But I think his mind has closed down. He has seen one brother killed and two others wounded. He needs rest and medicine.'

‘I'm going to the pharmacy,' said Luciano. ‘Have you got that list?'

As Sulien gave him a scrap of parchment, Georgia asked, ‘How are you going to get there?'

‘Swim, I suppose,' said Luciano, trying to smile.

‘Don't be daft,' said Sky. ‘We need to find some kind of a boat.'

‘We?' asked Luciano. ‘Are you coming too?'

‘Of course he is,' said Georgia. ‘It was probably what he was sent here to do.'

‘Oh my God,' said Sky. ‘I'm hallucinating.'

He pointed outside the window and they all saw the black wings of the flying horse, with a brightly dressed Manoush on her back.

Chapter 23

Drowned City

Sandro hadn't been at the wedding or the blessing either. He had drifted back to the Piazza Ducale, pleased that there hadn't been any attack and hoping to find some more scraps for him and his dog when the next feast started. He was hanging around the platform when the rain began and minutes later the flood water came swirling into the square.

He ran, then, up the steps of the loggia and sat at the top, hugging the scared Fratello and sheltering from the rain. He didn't think that it would last for long. Sandro had heard a lot about floods in Giglia but hadn't seen one in his short life. The little dog was trembling but Sandro himself was not frightened.

At least not then. The water was only inches deep. But then he saw wedding guests hurrying into the palazzo and the water still rose. And later, citizens came splashing through the piazza shouting about an attack. They hadn't stayed to hear what had happened in the Church of the Annunciation but rumour spread through the city: all the di Chimici had been assassinated; the Grand Duke was dead, stabbed by the Duchessa of Bellezza with his own sword.

Sandro thought he would let the news settle down like the flood water and leave a silt of truth he could sift through later. But the water had now reached the top of the steps and Sandro couldn't swim. He tucked Fratello under his arm and began to climb on to the back of a lion sculpted by one of Giuditta Miele's ancestors.

*

Georgia ran up to the roof with Sky and Luciano. Never had she been so glad to see anyone as Raffaella and the flying horse. It had been nagging at the back of her mind that she didn't know how she would get back to Remora by nightfall if she couldn't get to Merla on the other side of the river. But she had felt bad even for thinking about it when she didn't know if Gaetano would survive his injuries.

Sky stood gazing at the winged horse in wonder. In spite of everything he had been told about Merla, the reality of her was so much more overpowering than any description.

Rafaella dismounted.

‘Aurelio sent me,' she said. ‘He seemed to know where you would be.'

‘Can you help us?' asked Georgia. ‘We need to get medicine from Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines. Is the whole city flooded?'

‘Certainly between there and here,' said Rafaella. ‘But I can take Merla up again and look for a boat.'

‘Do you think she'd carry both of us?' asked Georgia. ‘Perhaps I could bring one back?'

No one liked the idea but Georgia persuaded them on the grounds that she was the lightest and the best rider.

‘It's not the riding I'm worried about,' said Sky. ‘It's the dropping into a boat.'

He and Luciano watched the two young women take off on the flying horse.

‘She's got guts, all right,' said Luciano.

From the air the city looked like a dreamscape: only the biggest buildings seemed the same. But the piazzas were lakes and the streets canals; fountains and statues and pillars poked up above the water like drowning people waving desperately for help. The river, no longer defined by its banks, had spread like a stain into every corner of the city.

But in the end Georgia did not have to be dropped into a boat. Raffaella landed Merla on the Ponte Nuovo. The horse didn't like it: it was narrow and dangerous for her wings and the water rose over her hoofs. But it was only inches deep here and Georgia was able to splash through it down to where boats bobbed on the surface of the flood, tugging at their painters tied far below the water. Raffaella cut the rope of one with a dagger from her belt, as far under the surface as she could reach.

‘I'll take Merla back to the orphanage roof,' she said. ‘You'll still need her to get back to Remora tonight.'

Georgia nodded. She was struggling with the boat. She had never rowed one before, except once on the Serpentine in Hyde Park, and everything was wet. Her dress and hair were soaked, the bottom of the boat slopped with rainwater and the oars were slippery and very heavy. A cold wind lashed the flooded river into waves and she couldn't at first see where she was going for her wet hair whipping into her face. And she hadn't quite got the hang of travelling backwards and was scared of bumping into hazards she couldn't see.

But gradually she managed to steer the boat up between the pillars of the square where the Guild offices were. The city was eerily quiet and she shivered as she rowed awkwardly into the Piazza Ducale. It was so weird to think her boat was sliding forwards nearly her own height above yesterday's tournament lists. The last thing she expected was to hear her name shouted.

It was Sandro, sitting on a stone lion with his little dog clutched in his arms. Cursing under her breath at this new complication, Georgia tied the boat to the lion's leg and coaxed him down into it. It was doubtful whether Sandro or the dog was more alarmed by the rocking motion of the boat as they got into it. But Sandro's teeth were chattering and he had been very frightened, alone with no prospect of the water withdrawing.

‘I'll take you to the orphanage,' said Georgia. ‘That's where all the others are.'

‘What happened?' asked Sandro, trying to warm the dog inside his jerkin.

‘Where do I begin?' asked Georgia, casting off again. ‘Do you know how to row?'

‘I can try,' said Sandro.

Georgia looked at his skinny arms and undernourished frame.

‘No, it's OK. I can manage till I get there. But then I'm leaving it to Luciano and Sky.'

‘Brother Tino?' asked Sandro. ‘What are they going to do?'

‘They're going to the friary to fetch medicine for Brother Sulien,' said Georgia. ‘You know the Nucci attacked at the church?'

‘I heard people shouting something,' said Sandro. ‘But I was stuck on the loggia and couldn't find out anything.'

‘Lots of people have been killed or hurt,' said Georgia. ‘Gaetano and his oldest brother are seriously injured and Prince Carlo is dead.'

Sandro jumped so violently it rocked the boat. ‘I'm not sorry,' he said. ‘He was a murderer.'

‘But Gaetano isn't,' said Georgia. ‘And we must do what we can to save him.'

They had reached the drowned Piazza of the Annunciation. Sandro helped Georgia navigate past the fountains and up to the orphanage. The front door was still open and the ground floor flooded in spite of the steps leading up to it. They had to pull the oars in while the boat slipped through the door, but once inside they were able to tie it up to the stone banister of the staircase. Fratello leapt out of the boat, shaking himself, and ran gratefully up the steps, looking back to check that Sandro was following.

Sky was amazed to see the little spy, particularly when he told him how he had got there. Georgia soon appeared, looking very bedraggled. Sulien was relieved to see her but still anxious to get what he needed for his patients.

‘I'd go myself,' he said. ‘But I am needed here. You're sure that you and Luciano will manage, Sky?'

Sky's arm had stiffened up and was really hurting. He didn't think he'd be much use at rowing but he knew where to find most things in the pharmacy. And Luciano was the least afraid of water of any of them; he was a first-class swimmer and lived in a city where the streets were canals.

‘Take this key,' said Sulien. ‘The most important thing I need, and the one I can't replace quickly, is in a locked cupboard in my cell. The jar says “argentum potabile” and it's the only thing that will save the young princes.'

‘Right,' said Sky, more confidently than he felt. He put the key in his pocket.

‘Let me come too,' said Sandro. ‘I'm not heavy and I know where everything is.'

Sulien agreed. ‘Take him,' he said. ‘He might be very useful.'

‘Only look after my dog,' said Sandro. ‘He won't want to get back in that boat.'

‘I'll look after him,' said Georgia, taking the sodden length of string round Fratello's neck. She suddenly felt exhausted, but there was plenty of work left to do in the orphanage and Giuditta needed her.

The boys ran down the staircase to the drowned hall. Luciano took the oars and Sky sat at the other end, with Sandro crouched damply in the bottom of the boat.

They glided out into the piazza as Luciano struck out west from the orphanage, trying to find a navigable street that would take them south to the Dominican church. Saint-Mary-among-the-Vines lay even closer to the river and had been one of the first areas to be flooded. When they reached the piazza in front of it, they could see just the tops of the wooden obelisks sticking up through the water.

‘The cloisters will be flooded,' said Sky, ‘and the pharmacy will be under at least five feet of water. What are we going to do?'

‘We've got to try,' said Luciano. He manoeuvred the little boat through an archway beside the black and white church and steered right into the Lesser Cloister.

The arched cloister was underwater and Sky realised that all the plants and vegetables would be ruined. They had to take the boat across to the far corner of the cloister and steer it along a corridor, with their heads almost grazing the ceiling. But then they were through and out into the Great Cloister where the pharmacy and Sulien's cell were. Sandro cried out when he saw the devastation caused by the water.

The door from the cloister to the laboratory had been open when the flood came. Alembics and crucibles floated about, and bottles and jars had been smashed by the force of the water pouring in.

‘This is hopeless,' said Luciano after a few minutes' fruitless search. ‘There's nothing in one piece from his list.'

‘How about the stuff in his cell?' asked Sky. ‘The medicine in the locked cupboard might be OK.'

But here was a problem: the door between the laboratory and Sulien's cell was closed, with a weight of water holding it shut. They manoeuvred the boat back out into the cloister.

‘Look,' said Sandro. ‘There's a skylight I could climb through.'

It was true. There was a small, glazed fanlight that led into Sulien's cell, and neither of the other two would have been able to wriggle through it. Luciano smashed the glass with an oar and Sandro took the key from Sky. They watched as he climbed in, then heard a splash and a cry as he landed on the other side.

‘Oh God, don't tell me he can't swim!' said Luciano.

*

Enrico flitted from room to room in the orphanage. He had seen the body of Prince Carlo and the near-corpses of the other two princes. But something else was niggling at the back of his mind and preventing him from concentrating on the present scene. Something to do with the Duchessa and her maid.

He was jolted out of his trance by the Princess Beatrice.

‘There you are!' she said, for once pleased to see him. ‘I need you to help me.'

Beatrice, Giuditta and Georgia had formed a sort of nursing team with the nuns, carrying out instructions from Sulien and Dethridge. There were all the orphans to look after as well as the injured and the roomful of traumatised princesses. The nuns were also in a great flutter at having the Pope himself under their roof, not to mention the Grand Duke of Tuschia. They kept Enrico busy running up and down stairs on errands. It was not long before he found himself taking wine to his master, and he didn't know how he would be received.

But Niccolò did not hold Enrico responsible for the attack; he knew very well whom to blame. Had he not seen with his own eyes Camillo Nucci stab his second son? Enrico recognised the feverish look in his master's eyes; the Duke had been the same when young Falco was dying. Now the only thing consoling him for Carlo's death was the thought of the revenge he would take on the Nucci. It didn't seem the right moment for the Eel to tell his master that the young Duchessa hadn't been wearing the expensive dress he had given her; he would try to let him know later that it was the maid who had been hurt. But perhaps he wouldn't mention that she had been impersonating the Duchessa at the time. Enrico had a feeling that information would make the Grand Duke very angry, even though he was too distracted at the moment to think of courtship.

*

Sandro surfaced, spluttering. He was terribly afraid. The water was cold and his feet couldn't touch the bottom. He flung out an arm and found himself clutching the top of the wooden crucifix on the wall. He held on to it as to a lifebelt; he knew what it was – the suffering man, like the one who hung in the church. The princes were suffering too and perhaps he, Sandro, could save them. He waited, floating on the top of the water, anchored only by his hand on the cross, getting his bearings in the little room.