Communion Blood (4 page)

“You think not?” Ragoczy challenged, and nodded when he received no answer. “We must be very careful to establish the separation of our interests. This is a beginning, and a necessary one.” He raised a hand, calling out in Hungarian, “Matyas! The six-year-old. Saddle him for me.”

Matyas appeared from one of the stalls, bowed hastily, and hurried off to do his bidding.

“The damage is severe,” Niklos warned, referring to the Villa Vec- chia that a thousand years before was still known as Villa Ragoczy.

“I supposed it would be,” said Ragoczy, pausing while drawing on his black Florentine gloves. “It is good of you to try to soften the blow, Niklos.”

“I think you should take a servant with you. There may be beggars and worse living in the ruins,” Niklos said, as if this were somehow his fault.

Ragoczy laughed once. “I am not afraid of a fight, although I would prefer to avoid one.” He put his hand on Niklos’ shoulder. “It is kind of you to worry for me, but it is also unnecessary: believe this.”

Niklos did his best to smile. “We fought well against the Huns, didn’t we?”

“Yes. We did,” said Ragoczy. He squinted up at the sky, the brightness hurting his eyes. “I will not be any longer than necessary. I know the way well enough. And I have my sword with me.” He patted the side of his long clothing. “It is best if an Abbe wears his weapons out of sight.”

“I should have thought you would not want to wear one at all,” said Niklos. “The Pope has spoken against the clergy going armed. He says it shows a lack of faith.”

Ragoczy laughed. “I assume his rule is more honored in the breach. Half the priests I have seen carry knives openly, and many of them have swords. As I am not known in this place, I believe caution would be my wisest course.”

“Then I suppose I have little more I can say.” Niklos stepped back, bowed, and was about to turn when he stopped himself. “I am grateful to you.”

“Niklos, all I have done is arrive with horses, carriages, and servants, upsetting your life here, hardly an event to inspire indebtedness except on behalf of my entourage,” Ragoczy said, his amusement faintly sardonic. “I remind you: worry about gratitude when I have done something deserving it.”

“Very well,” Niklos said. “But I will not be fobbed off forever. I know what you are doing is dangerous.”

Ragoczy bowed elegantly. “Here, in Roma, everything I am is dangerous.”

“For which you shall be recompensed,” Niklos promised.

“As you wish,” said Ragoczy, and went off in the same direction Matyas had taken.

Watching him go, Niklos felt both relief and chagrin—relief that he finally had a chance in prevailing in his suit, and chagrin that it had been necessary to ask for such help. After a short while, he turned and went back into the villa to finish accommodating his newly arrived guests.

Text of a letter from Bonaldo Fiumara to Ferenc Ragoczy at Senza Pari.

To the revered Abbe, Ferenc Ragoczy, the most heartfelt greetings of the builder Bonaldo Fiumara, with the hope that what follows will be acceptable to you.

For removal of damaged buildings at the site known as the Villa Vecchia, the sum of one hundred golden scudi, with twenty apiece for each workman participating, along with a grant of fifty golden scudi for every serious injury sustained by the workmen. The workmen are to be paid in accordance with the terms agreed upon: delay in payment will be held just cause for stopping work. Should any workman injured require a surgeon or a physician, it will be the

responsibility of the Abbe to provide it promptly. Any additional funds for injuries will be determined by the Console Artei.

For the preparation of plans for a new villa on the site, one hundred fifty golden scudi.

The price of the building will be determined by the materials you may choose, Abbe, and cannot be presented with these figures.

The time to finish removal of the old buildings as well as preparing the site for new ones, three months, four if the spring is wet. All materials removed from the ruins, with the exception of human remains, shall become the property of the builders, and no claim of any kind may be made upon those materials without the approval of the Console Artei. Any delay occasioned by weather shall require a good- faith payment to cover half the wages paid for actual work to be done. Should weather cause further damage to the buildings being pulled down, or damage the preparations for new construction, a suitable adjustment in payment shall be determined by the Console Artei, the decision of which shall be final.

The number of mule-teams needed for the removal, five, of eight mules apiece. The cost of each team, twenty golden scudi per week, plus food and stalls for the mules. Wages for the muleteers, fifteen golden scudi per week. If weather prevents work being done, the teams and muleteers will receive half their established wage for the days when Yhey cannot work.

In accordance with your stated wishes, I have ordered my men to restore the i ne undamaged wing of the main building for your occupancy. Yoi r drawings are sufficient to make it possible for the work to be done
ti
ithout consultation with an architect, or an additional charge. I mus t tell you that accommodations that will result there will not be very niodem, but as it is your wish, my men will strive to have the rooms liveable in six weeks, their pay to be set at fifteen golden scudi for each man.

I will attend the work every day, and keep a record of progress of work, along with a full description of materials removed from the site. These will be available for your review as described in this agreement. I will supply my men with such tools as they will need and do not already possess. I will also see to the feeding of the men, which cost

will be borne by me and cannot be added to those required of Abbe Ragoczy. Any construction of specific tools such as scaffolding shall be shared between Abbe Ragoczy and me in equal portions at the time such expenses arise.

As soon as I am in receipt of your initial payment of seventy golden scudi, we will commence our tasks, and will keep you informed each Friday before the Angelas, of our progress, and to answer any reasonable questions you may have. A second payment of seventy golden scudi must be in my hands before the first day of February, so that work may continue unimpeded by lack of funds. Should the reserve monies drop below thirty golden scudi at any time, work will cease on the project until the balance is paid. Any complaints you may have may be addressed to me at that time, along with any orders of modification in your plans. Should any mishap befall the men or the buildings, you will be notified by a messenger before sunset on the day of the accident, and arrangements for compensation will be discussed within one full day of the incident.

A servant of Abbe Ragoczy is to be at the service of the workers, to carry any messages that may require prompt response. To that end, you will appoint a second authority to act in your stead if you are not available on short notice. That second authority is to have full power to order payments, summon any assistants needed, or fulfill any other obligation that would fall to you. The servant given the task of waiting on the workers is to be informed of all these matters before he takes up his post.

Any disputes between you and me or my men will be resolved by the Console Artei, in accordance with law and custom.

I thank you for this fine opportunity to serve you, and the chance to demonstrate the skills of the men in my work crew. Your name will be in our prayers for all the days we labor on your behalf. May God and the Saints favor this project and aid us in its completion.

Most respectfully submitted, and trusting the amounts quoted will meet with your approval,

I remain

Your most obedient servant to command

Bonaldo Fiumara, Masterbuilder

On the 30th of January, 1689, at Roma

True copy on file with the Console Artei Romana

2

As he elevated the Chalice, Martin Maria Valentin Esteban, Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte, did his best to convince himself that the wine was now the holy blood of Christ that would cleanse his soul and save all mankind. Now, when he knew his faith should be strongest he had the most doubts, and feared he damned himself with them. Devout as his habits were, they were rote, not pious. He celebrated Mass twice a day in his palazzo’s private chapel: in the morning for his family and household, in the evening for his family only. His hands trembled as he lowered the Chalice to have the ritual sip. It still tasted like wine, he thought as he turned to Padre Alonzo Ricco, who always assisted him. He had to make an effort not to laugh—what would he do if someday the red wine actually did become blood? Would he be able to swallow it? He had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling at the thought.

He glanced at his brother on the second bench in the chapel. Of four legitimate brothers, only this one had survived, and occasionally the Cardinal wished that God had chosen another to be left behind. Ursellos Gofredo Ponce Calaveria y Vacamonte was already halfdrunk and would be out of their palazzo for another night of carousing before the Cardinal had finished removing his vestments. Young still, handsome, and dissolute, Ursellos had already made a reputation for himself among the wild bloods of Roma’s rich aristocrats; at twenty-six his dissipation was already leaving its mark upon him in a certain slackness about the eyes and a hint of contemptuousness about his mouth. He glowered at his older brother, making no attempt to disguise his boredom as he played with the heavy doubletiered ruffles at his wrist. His berry-red justaucorps—too gaudy for Spanish tastes—was negligently laced, revealing his full-cut fine white linen camisa beneath that hung without artistry. Although they were beginning to be passe, he still wore petticoat-breeches, since they showed off the curve of his leg from his knee to his shoe-buckle for admiration. His under-hose were pale ivory silk, and his shoes had red heels, after the fashion of Roi Louis of France, a snide insult to Papal authority.

Three benches back their twenty-two-year-old half-brother Jose Bruno sat, a puzzled expression on his youthful face. He was dressed marginally better than the household servants, a slight which did not bother him. Jose Bruno was good-hearted and loyal, which almost made up for his apparent simplicity and bastardy. He had lived with the Cardinal since the family had come to Roma, his favored-but- ambiguous position in the household isolating him from his halfsiblings and servants alike, a situation he might not have been aware of, for he never complained of it. He listened to the Mass with rapt attention, reciting the tolling Latin phrases with his half-brother, but with no sign of recognition in his large brown eyes.

At the rear of the chapel sat their only surviving sister, Leocadia Perpetua Dulce Calaveria y Vacamonte. At nineteen she was a tur- bulently attractive woman, with soft brown hair and startling black eyes in a pale, heart-shaped face. Tall and youthfully slim, she attracted attention whenever she left the palazzo with her maid and Jose Bruno to escort her. Just now her admirable looks were marred by two bruises, one on her jaw, one on her right cheek; her stiff movements were due as much to more extensive bruising as to the whalebone corset she wore under her gold-and-black brocade gown. A large jeweled crucifix hung at the center of her gown’s corsage on a swagged chain. She muttered the prayers with an intensity that revealed her determination to placate her brother in some way.

The palazzo was new, built only fifteen years earlier on the foundations of an ancient Roman emporium. The Cardinal had purchased it eight years ago and in the intervening years had added to its magnificence. Here in the chapel, the marble columns flanking the altar in the chapel were twisted like the baldacchino supports of the altar

at San Pietro, and the floor was patterned in red and green marble which the servants washed and polished twice a week. Over the entrance the Calaveria y Vacamonte arms were emblazoned in inlaid marbles and semiprecious stone: on a sky-blue field, two kites beaked and taloned in gold, one above the other facing opposite sides of the shield to imply circling in the air; all the details were exactingly depicted, as it was in the mosaic medallion on the floor of the loggia. All of the palazzo was equally splendid, with a polished red granite staircase leading from the loggia to the reception hall and dining hall above, and murals in every public room. The furniture was the most modem, the most elegant that could be had in Roma. There were framed paintings in the corridors and the family’s rooms; only in the servants’ quarters was there any stinting of grandeur, and even these accommodations were considered better than could be had in most of the palazzi in Roma.

At the conclusion of the Mass the Cardinal asked his sister to wait for him, a request that she answered with an obliging nod of her head. Satisfied that she would not defy him, Martin Calaveria y Vacamonte withdrew to his vestry; he hurried through his prayers and left Padre Ricco to tend to his vestments. He was gratified to discover his sister still waiting at the rear of the chapel, for he had half- expected she might have gone to her apartments, forcing him to go to her in order to speak to her.

“You obeyed,” the Cardinal approved, acknowledging her curtsy with a flick of his hand. “I will pray God has touched your obdurate heart at last.”

“Pray all you want if it pleases you,” she said sweetly but intractably.

Cardinal Calaveria y Vacamonte realized that Leocadia was not going to be as compliant as he had hoped she would be. He proceeded in the manner of one being forced to act against his inclinations. “Have you reconsidered your answer?”

“If you mean will I marry Hubert Walmund, my answer is no, and it will always be no.” Her body began to shake. “It won’t matter if you beat me again or not. I will not marry a man who has lost his nose to the pox. I will not do it. By Madre Maria, he wears a silk mask on the street so that no one will see how much his face is damaged! I don’t care that his brother is Archbishop Walmund, or that Spain must establish new ties to the German Princes and the Emperor. I
don’t care!”