Communion Blood (50 page)

“England would be best,” said Ettore Colonna. “Maurizio will find work there. The English love music because they can so rarely make it themselves.”

Paying no attention to this slight to the English, Ragoczy agreed. “There are many opportunities in London for talented fiddlers, at the theatre as well as the palaces and halls.” He did not want Maurizio losing heart now. “Your gifts will be amply rewarded if you seek out opportunity to perform.”

Maurizio bowed. “I will. And I will take care of Leocadia and her child. And Jose Bruno, too, if he will come with us. He isn’t simple, you know. He’s half-blind, but he isn’t simple.” This last was said as if he expected contradiction. “He knows a great deal, but he is not able to see much unless it is immediately before his eyes. It isn’t as if he would be of no use. Leocadia depends upon him.”

“All right. You want passage for you, for Leocadia, and Jose Bruno, and it must be soon,” said Ragoczy, his somber expression showing his determination. “I will do what I can, but you will have to do your part.”

“Oh, yes,” said Maurizio, his eagerness compounded of renewed hope and profound dread. “Tell me what you require and I will see it is done.”

Ettore Colonna held up his hand. “I will have to be part of this, for I have no messenger I can trust now that Celestino is dead.”

“Very good,” said Ragoczy, who was glad that their secret would

spread no farther. “When I have the arrangements made, I will send you word through Signore Colonna. You will have to leave at once. There will be no time for packing or gathering provisions. All that must be ready as soon as you are told to depart. I will make sure you are on one of my ships, from the company I own in the Lowlands, otherwise any officer of the Pope could board the ship and demand the Captain hand you over.” He tried to recall which of his ships would be available in the next week, and thought only of the
Avond Roos,
currently bound for Venezia. Then he remembered the
Sorella Agnesca
that was due at Malta in a few days; it could be intercepted if he sent a fast ship to meet it. Most of her crew were non-Catholic Italians, as he recalled, and could be relied upon for discretion.

“Can you give us no warning?” Maurizio asked. “I don’t mean to demean anything you can do, but I am afraid that Leocadia will need time to prepare.”

“A warning to you is also a warning to those looking for you,” Ragoczy pointed out. “It would be best to prepare what you will need to travel now, and keep it all readily to hand, so that when I have everything in place, you can depart promptly.”

The rain was falling in earnest now, the last downpour before summer; it rattled on the roof and hissed off the lake, dulling the garden to soft shades of grey. A wind sprang up, whipping at the flowers and making the afternoon cold.

Maurizio glanced out between the pillars. “It will be a hard ride tonight.”

“Change horses at the
Bue Giallo
; you know the place. They will not notice anything if you toss them an Apostle or two.” The inn Ettore Colonna referred to was not on the main road; most of its patrons were farmers traveling to market. “I would offer you a place here, but that would destroy the very secrecy we seek to preserve.”

“You will want to get back quickly,” Ragoczy added. “But take care. If your horse comes down on you, no one will be able to tell Leocadia.” He saw Maurizio bristle in near-panic, and did his best to assuage it without lessening the seriousness of his caution. “If you are truly going to get out of the Papal States, you must be conscientious at all times. You cannot afford even the smallest misstep. So

do not push your mount, change horses at the inn, and do nothing to attract the notice of other travelers.”

“I will do what I can,” said Maurizio. “And I will await word from you, Signor’ Conte.”

Ragoczy clapped the young man on the shoulder to show his approval; this familiar gesture was so unusual that Maurizio stood absolutely still while Ragoczy said, “It will take me a few days to put all in order. Use that time wisely, for it will make the difference between success and failure.”

Ettore Colonna added, “Heed what the Conte says to be ready and to travel light. You cannot go lugging everything you possess with you.”

“We possess very little,” said Maurizio, his face almost blank. “She left it all behind when she fled her brother’s house; what she has Jose Bruno took for her, and for himself. I, so long as I have my violin and a change of clothes, I can go anywhere.” It was a kind of unhappy boast, one that made the comers of his mouth turn down.

“All the more reason for you to keep yourselves ready,” said Ragoczy, thinking back to all he had left behind in Egypt, in Greece, in Baghdad, in China, in Fiorenza, in the New World, in .. . He shut his retrospections away and turned his attention to the immediate problem.

“That I will,” said Maurizio, his face less strained than it had been. “It is good of you to do this for us, Signor’ Conte, and you, Signore Colonna.
I...
I have nothing to show you my thanks. I wish that I did.” He twisted the points of his hat again. “I will remember your kindness in my prayers until I die.” This time he bowed deeply. “I am under obligation to both of you; I will not forget that.”

“Let us do something of your dedication first,” said Ragoczy, his brows lifting slightly in sardonic amusement. “When we deserve your appreciation then you can reaffirm your devotion.” He squinted at the rain. “You had better depart, Maurizio. The storm will be worse by nightfall.”

“Yes,” said Ettore Colonna. “And mind you prepare as the Signor’ Conte has asked you.” He waved at the sodden expanse of the or-

namental lake. “Best to leave by the way you arrived, over the old wall.”

“That’s where I left the horse,” said Maurizio, bowing again. “I will await word from you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With this repetition he bowed himself out of the belvedere and vanished into the rain; they marked his progress by the thrashing of the hedges.

When Maurizio was out of earshot, Ragoczy turned to Ettore Co- lonna. “Is the old wall easy to climb?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Why, yes, if you know where to go,” said Ettore Colonna, then nodded once. “You mean someone could have followed Maurizio over the wall?”

“It is a possibility,” said Ragoczy, his expression revealing little.

“Well, yes, it is a possibility,” Ettore Colonna allowed. “But it is unlikely that anyone would know to follow Maurizio, or to watch that part of the wall.”

“That you know of,” Ragoczy amended.

Ettore Colonna sighed. “As you say: that I know of.”

Text of a letter from Bonaldo Fiumara to Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San-Germain.

To the most Excellent Conte, Ferenc Ragoczy, da San-Germain, the most sincere greetings of the Masterbuilder, Bonaldo Fiumara;

Eccellenza, I must take pen in hand to address you on a most pressing mutter, and one which I must discuss with you in the next few days. I hesitate to impose upon you, but I find that my conscience demands it, although custom frowns upon such matter. You must forgive me for what surely appears to be impetuosity and a deliberate flouting of the conventions that govern our live, and to which we adhere for the good of ourselves and others.

You should know that I have recently been summoned to answei questions by the Holy Office in regard to the Cardinal’s sister wht last year took refuge at Villa Vecchia; I was required to swear tha you had not made her your mistress, or was giving her shelter at yow, estates now. 1 had to answer them to the extent of my knowledge, fo\

to do otherwise would endanger my soul and the lives of my family. The reply 1 made to them was that so far as I knew, you had not made any attempt to entice, compel, or seduce the Cardinal’s sister, that you had made sure she was chaperoned once she left the cell you provided for her penitence. I told them that my sister had served as the Cardinal’s sister’s maid and would testify to the truth of what I said. I doubt they will question Clarice, since she is a woman and therefore of reduced reliability, but I have done what I may to make it possible for her to speak if the Holy Office, if they decide to require her to appear before them, which I pray they will not do, for Clarice would be overcome with terror in such an event, and could not be relied upon to be prudent. I also informed the good Fathers that you had not taken the Cardinal’s sister into your villa since her brother came to claim her, and that so far as I could discover, there has been no contact between you since that day.

Along with the questions of your conduct toward the Cardinal’s sister, there was also some interest as to your whereabouts on the day the Cardinal was murdered. I had to tell the good Fathers that you were away from your villa for several hours, but that I did not know where you had gone, nor did I know your purpose in going. I would like to have been able to deny any such knowledge, but for these Godly men, I could not give even the appearance of mendacity. I offer you my sincerest apology if I have inadvertently compromised you in any way; that was not my intention. I pray you will understand why I had to be at pains to give them an accurate account of what I know of your actions that day. Others mil tell them the same thing, and if they suspect I have not answered them as fully and honestly as I can, they will demand I explain myself, and their methods of exacting information are too stringent for me to contemplate.

Three of the men working under me have also been summoned to address the Holy Office in regard to your conduct. I have informed our Arte that the testimony has been given freely, so that nothing can be held against the rest of our members if the good Fathers are dissatisfied with what my men tell them. It is upsetting to all of us working on your villa to have to do this, for you are a fair and generous employer. But the Holy Office is powerful; all the Artei of

Roma are subject to the Pope, and through Sua Santita, to the Holy Office.

In regard to the villa we are building, the Holy Office has ordered that our work be stopped for ten days so that officers of the Secular Arm may inspect it, to be certain you have done nothing in your planning that would be against the Church. I have submitted the plans we have been following, and I have had my crews stipulate, to a Notary, that the plans have been accurately adhered to in our construction. It may be that the Holy Office will examine your villa closely, or their inspection may be cursory: I cannot tell which. But I advise you to be present while the men of the Secular Arm are making their observations, for they may have questions that only you may properly answer. If you are not present, the good Fathers may take that as an indication of deception—they have done so in the past.

As soon as it is permitted, my builders will resume their work. The carpenters involved in finishing the interior will be summoned as soon as the Holy Office authorizes the resumption of labor. The Arte already has your deposits in hand, and so there will be no delay on that account. I have also taken the liberty of arranging for plasterers, and will need thirty gold pieces from you before they set to work. All the records of your deposits to the various Artei have been reviewed by the Holy Office; so far there have been no questions about the sums required of you, but that could change. If it does, I will inform you of it. I am sending the official requests for deposits with this letter, for I do not wish to have copies on file with the Artei, or the Console, for all of our sakes.

It would be advisable to bum this once you have read it, for I do not want it to seem that I am telling you more than I should: perhaps I am, and if that is the case, you might be held accountable for my lapse in conduct. I hope this will not be the outcome, but I think you should be aware of the possibilities.

Again, I apologize for putting myself forward in this way and for having to bear witness in what might be a complaint against you. It is not my intention to do you any disservice, for you have done noth-

ing I am aware of to deserve suspicion or condemnation, and so I have told the Holy Office.

Your wholly yours to command, Bonaldo Fiumara Masterbuilder

At Roma, on May 7th, 1690

By the hand of my cousin, Giovanni Brunelli, Notary

3

The hall was filled with the most elegant personages in Roma; two Cardinals and three Bishops had made it a point to attend this first performance of Alessandro Scarlatti’s new opera, for it was reckoned to be the most exciting event of the spring. In the fourteen box seats, men and women in their greatest finery looked out over those in the upholstered seats set up under the shining chandeliers where tall candles shone, occasionally dropping wax on the audience beneath. Most of the women wore masks, many of which were elaborate, painted and jeweled more than the faces beneath. The afternoon heat was fading, and first breeze of evening made the hall almost pleasant; servants carried wine to those in the audience who signaled for it—not for the decorous Romans the antics of orange-girls that the English allowed—and provided fans for those who had failed to bring their own, or who used this as subterfuge to pass covert messages to others in the crowd.

It was almost thirty minutes after the appointed hour to begin that Maestro Scarlatti stepped onto the stage carrying a tall, thin cane with a pearl-studded head; he waited while the buzz of conversation faded as the audience turned their eyes upon him, whereupon he made a flourishing leg to those who sat in anticipation. “Welcome, one and all, to this first performance of
La Lyra di Nerone
; the text of tonight’s opera was written by Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San- German, who will also play the clavichord.” The title was a last-

minute decision, issued by Church censors, and one which Scarlatti was still uneasy about. “The Vestal Virgin will be sung tonight by Giorgianna Ferrugia, her maid will be sung by Renata Merlo. Sap- ienza will be sung by Annamaria Marenzio, Follia by Gaetano Strada. Giove will be sung by Andrea Puntello, Nerone will be sung by Tan- credi Guisa. Patrizio Gentile is the chorus director. The staging is by Egidio Tedesco.” He made a leg again, and signaled his musicians to come into their narrow seating area immediately at the foot of the raked stage; there were nineteen of them, a large ensemble for such a performance. When they were all in place, Alessandro Scarlatti made his way down the steps at the side of the stage and took his place at the front of the musicians. He gave a signal, and Ferenc Ragoczy sounded an A on the clavichord which the other musicians took up for tuning.