Communion Blood (8 page)

The young man hurried to obey, holding the door against the insistence of the wind as Ragoczy passed out of the stable and into the storm.

Responding to the wind, the mare frisked her way up the drive, dancing around mud-puddles all the way to the main gate, minced through it, then steadied down to a well-disciplined trot for the three- league journey to Senza Pari. As he rode around the northeastern flank of Roma, Ragoczy kept a careful eye on the countryside around him, wary of any danger that might be present. After a quarter of an hour the mare slowed to a walk, and continued on at that pace all the way to Senza Pari.

As he dismounted at the door of Olivia’s villa, Ragoczy handed his mare to the groom who hurried forward. “Wipe her down, if you would; loosen her girths, keep her warm, give her water when she is cooled—not before.”

The groom bowed as he led the mare into the shelter of the stable, leaving Ragoczy to find his way into the villa, searching for Niklos and finding him eventually on the second floor, in the guest room over the kitchen. “Good afternoon,” he said, making a leg in case any of the servants were watching.

“Good afternoon,” said Niklos grimly. “I am glad you have come. We must talk.”

“Dear me, what can have happened?” Ragoczy asked with the air of one much astonished. He surveyed the room without changing his stance, and satisfied himself that they were not observed. Abandoning his grand manner, he began to speak, this time in the Greek of Byzantium. “I take it there has been some trouble.”

“Yes,” said Niklos bluntly. “Two of my servants are gone, and no one knows where—or if they know, they are not willing to tell me. Whether the Inquisitors came for them in the night—which is what the cook thinks—or they have fled for fear of what may come of this suit, I don’t know.”

“But you are rightly troubled that there could be a Process against you. Very wise. Once Inquisitors start asking questions, no one is safe,” said Ragoczy.

“You know that better than I,” said Niklos, and began to apologize for his impertinence. “I did not mean to make light of your imprisonment, Saint-Germain; I did not think—”

“No; you are right to say so, and these servants have every right to worry. Right now it would serve your opponent’s purpose very well to have your servants under suspicion of heresy, since heresy can be committed in thoughts as well as deeds.” Ragoczy shook his head. “If this is the ploy and it is intended to intimidate your supporters and allies, I must suppose it will be successful.” He looked directly at

Niklos. “You will have to be very careful, or you could place yourself at even greater risk than you already have.”

“How?” Niklos demanded, scowling. “Unless they already suspect me, and are trying to get confirmation through my servants.”

“You realize this may have nothing to do with the Inquisition,” Ragoczy said in the same unruffled calm. “The servants may be frightened and have run off for fear, or they may have been bribed to leave, in order to throw your household into disorder.” He waited for Niklos to consider this. “If that is the case, and the servants are not in the hands of the Inquisition, then you will have to be particularly careful in how you deal with the development, so that your opponent, emboldened by his success, does not take it into his head to try something even more outrageous.”

“What would that be?” The sarcasm in Niklos’ voice caught Ra- goczy’s attention.

“Anything that would discredit you; he has already shown himself capable of peijury and fraud; I cannot think he would stop at suborning witnesses,” he answered with a composure that was tinged with reserve. “And that could prove more troublesome than the demands of this ludicrous suit. As you have pointed out, neither you nor I would befit from close scrutiny.”

Niklos made himself smile, but it was a brittle effort. “I am stymied, it appears.”

“That appearance is useful for you. I would advise you to maintain it as long as you can.” Ragoczy saw the disgruntled expression in Niklos’ handsome features. “There are times, and this is one of them, when you will find a patina of confusion or ignorance will serve you very well, for as long as your opponent is certain he has flummoxed you, he will not be as attentive to your actions as he would be if you appeared clear of purpose, and he may do something foolhardy and overstep himself; he might expose his mendacity through such foolishness. Let him underestimate you—and me—so that he will not prepare as he should.” He gave a bleak smile.

“Yes. Yes, I know it is a wise thing to do,” Niklos said in weary resignation. “Many times in the past I gave Olivia just such advice. I did not understand why she found it so galling. Now I do.”

Ragoczy nodded. “I agree it is a blow to pride to do this. But rather a blow to pride than a disaster, which is what Rothofen is seeking.”

“I know,” said Niklos shortly. He paced a short distance from Ragoczy, then shrugged and came back. “All right. You are protecting me, I am aware of it. But it is most vexing to be saved from myself in this manner.”

“I am familiar with the problem, as Rugerius would tell you.” Ragoczy laid his small, gloved hand on Niklos’ shoulder. “I must add one more unwelcome recommendation to my irksome list—that you be patient while I undertake to discover how great a fabrication Rothofen has achieved. I realize I have tried to impress the need for patience before, but I must reiterate it, for both our sakes. We must tread very carefully, but not so carefully that we attract unwanted scrutiny, for that would redound to your discredit. Patience is essential if we are not to expose ourselves to God’s Hounds”—just using this unflattering nickname of the Dominican Order could be risky— “for their questions are more stringent than any magistrate’s. When we have a better notion of what he proposes to use to establish his claim, we will be able to decide how to deal with him.”

Niklos folded his arms, his jaw tight. “I will promise to make an effort. I may not succeed.”

“Do your utmost,” Ragoczy advised, his dark eyes stem. “Or you and I could lose far more than six of Olivia’s estates.”

This severe reminder brought Niklos up short. “Of course,” he said; his single nod was pledge of his compliance.

Text of a letter from Alessandro Scarlatti to Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San-Germain; delivered to the Villa Vecchia by Celestino Bmschi.

To Su Eccellenza il Conte da San-Germain, Ferenc Ragoczy, the greetings from Napoli of Alessandro Scarlatti, with his gratitude for the kindness il Conte has shown in approaching me for the purposes of engaging my services.

If it pleases Su Eccellenza, I will make it my pleasure to wait upon you when next I visit Roma, which should be in March. 1 confess I am anticipating that sojourn with the liveliest relish: I have a stunning new soprano to delight my gracious patron, Ettore Colonna. As it was he who provided you with my address, you will no doubt want to attend her recital at Gran Segretto. I have already arranged for at least one performance at that splendid estate; if the occasion is not suitable, 1 will be honored to arrange a private concert for Su Eccel- lenza to hear her. I predict she will take the world by storm, for her voice is enhanced by artistry of such refinement that no one can listen to her without knowing she is a treasure from God.

My family will not accompany me, but I will bring my consort of ten musicians, all of whom will need to be housed and kept where we perform. I mention this for my most valued patron Ettore Colonna informs me that you are rebuilding a villa and you may not have sufficient room to house my men. If that is the case, I must rely upon you to find suitable accommodations for my musicians, and, of course, for my soprano.

When you have heard Giorgianna Ferrugia, you will be transported. Everyone in the Court here in Napoli has been enchanted by her. I am certain that you will find her a most remarkable singer, as well as being of a pious and humble character. I mention this only to ensure that she will not have to endure assaults on her virtue while she is in Roma; there are those who believe that any woman who stands before an audience to perform must be wholly lacking in modesty, but in cases of such musical gifts as this woman possesses, you will understand that her conduct is of the highest order.

I am imposing on the good offices of Ettore Colonna to see this safely into your hands, for I believe a message to one of so distinguished a Roman family will be afforded more respect on the road than one to a man of distinguished title but few known connections. I pray you will take no umbrage at my action, or think unkindly of Signore Colonna for acting in the capacity of secretary, for it is meant to be mutually beneficial.

I look forward to offering you my bow in person, and I pray that God will look upon all your endeavors with favor.

Until we meet,

I commend myself to Su Eccellenza, and to your good opinion,

Alessandro Scarlatti

By my own hand at Napoli on the 18th day of February, 1689

4

Palazzo Colonna was magnificent even by Roman standards; designed to impress, it had a broad front of three-story columns, trading on the family name in a glorious architectural pun. Six of the columns framed a vast loggia with grand staircases at either end leading up to a tall gallery above, with many gorgeous rooms beyond which could be glimpsed through great doors now open for the many guests. Murals glowed on the walls and ceiling, and at the top of the two staircases, enormous mirrors of the finest Venetian glass served to make the whole elaborate display appear more grand than it already was. In a family newer to Roma, such a palazzo would be considered ostentatious, but as it belonged to the Colonnas, it was recognized as a fitting tribute to an admirable family history that could be traced back more than a thousand years. In contrast to the other Palazzo Colonna in Roma, this one was called II Meglio—The Best. Built more to lessen the stifling heat of the long Roman summer, the palazzo was draughty as a tree in winter, so that the guests—most of them experienced in the climate—wore not only their most sumptuous ensembles, but their warmest as well, and the footmen who waited upon them were rigged out in woollen livery.

Ferenc Ragoczy arrived in his fine new carriage in the midst of the first wave of guests. His new clothes attracted the notice of several of the other new arrivals, for he had achieved an elegant balance of finery and restraint that was rarely seen in Roma: his justaucorps was of black brocaded silk shot with silver and piped in a deep-red silken twist, all setting off his ruby-studded collar of silver from which depended his eclipse device with silver wings raised and displayed above a black sapphire disk. On his left breast he wore the diamond Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary. His camisa was white silk edged in point lace that made a double collar at the neck; the sleeves were tripletiered with ruffles at the wrist. His breeches were more fitted than the usual fashion and were closed just below the knee with ruby studs instead of the usual knot of ribbons. His underhose were black silk, his thick-soled shoes had buckles of diamond-ornamented silver. He had acquired a lustrous black wig that leant his whole appearance the final tasteful coup. Unlike most of the guests not in religious garb, he did not carry a tall walking cane.

Ettore Colonna and his cousin Giancarlo, Cardinal Colonna, stood at the center of the gallery to receive their guests, Ettore in clothes as exuberant as his cousin’s were constrained. The azure of his satin justaucorps did not wholly complement the Cardinal’s glowing red silken soutane, nor did the elaborate curls of his auburn wig look entirely appropriate beside his cousin’s tasseled hat. Nevertheless the two welcomed the new arrivals in perfect amity, occasionally poking good-natured fun at each other, using their diversity to entertain as much as the more usual signs of hospitality.

“Eminenza,” said Ragoczy, dropping to his knee to kiss the Cardinal’s ring. He then rose and made a graceful leg to Ettore Colonna. “A good evening to you, Signore. I am filled with deep appreciation for the honor you have done me this evening.”

“Conte,” said Ettore Colonna. “A pleasure to meet you at last. Welcome to II Meglio. I hope you will make the most of the evening. You will discover a great many of our guests are looking forward to knowing you better.” He had something of the dark handsomeness of his late second cousin, Giulio Mazarini, but his eyes were more cynical and his mouth more sensual; he was one of the tallest men in the room, a height he accentuated with jewel-encrusted heels on his shoes. He realized that his advantage in inches did not impress his guest, whose presence made up for his moderate height.

“What can I be but gratified?” Ragoczy said, with a glint of enigmatic amusement in his dark eyes. He passed into the reception hall where most of the guests were gathered at the eastern end of the room to be as near the fireplace as possible. Approaching the glittering assembly, Ragoczy made a sweeping leg as a general courtesy before he advanced on an elderly man in fine garments twenty years out of fashion. “Do I address Signore Ennio Lampone, the mathematician?”

The man did not attempt to make a leg for fear of setting off his gout; he nodded instead. “I am Lampone,” he confirmed. “You, Signore, are unknown to me.”

“I am Ferenc Ragoczy, Conte da San-Germain,” he said, bowing without making a leg so as not to make Lampone’s lack of one a discourtesy.

“Ah.” Lampone’s rheumy old eyes lit up. “The
Hungarian
everyone is talking about. You have the appearance of your rank,” he approved. “The Order of Saint Stephen. Very commendable. You make a most creditable presentation of yourself, Signore Conte. It is a pleasure to know you.”

Ragoczy’s heritage was far older than any Hungarian claims in his native region of the Carpathians would be, but he said nothing beyond, “Thank you. When one is a foreigner, one must be meticulous in such things as presentation, and be at pains to observe all codes of conduct. I am pleased to know I have offered no inadvertent offense to anyone at this grand event.” He paused, and went on in an amiable way, “One of the many delights I have been looking forward to since my arrival in Roma is learning more about your theories on large and small attractions. I have read your writings with considerable admiration. Perhaps you might appoint a time when you would be willing to undertake such a discussion.”