Spira Mirabilis (24 page)

Jorge smiled politely, wondering what exactly the queen was playing at. They both knew he didn’t give a damn about her endorsement.

*

A shadow was skulking through the tents on the outskirts of the Benjaminite camp. In the centre Roe de Nail had made a huge bonfire which threw a staggering dome of light against the stars. The skulker froze as he came unexpectedly upon Bakhbukh and Sofia, whispering together by the dim light of a dying fire on the perimeter.

‘Yūsuf! There you are.’

‘I was praying,’ he blurted in panic. ‘On the mountain, praying.’

‘We were discussing,’ Sofia said, ‘how to deal with Mik la Nan. He’ll seek to dominate the council of war.’

‘And Roe de Nail’s no match for him,’ said Bakhbukh. ‘What’s your opinion?’

‘My opinion,’ said Yūsuf, ‘is that it is unseemly for old men to gossip in the shadows with young women. I put my faith in God, not stratagems. You would do well to do likewise,’ he said, and stalked off.

Bakhbukh watched him go and grief choked his voice when finally he spoke. ‘This is the second time you’ve used him for bait.’

‘Even fools have their uses.’

‘Promise me one thing, Contessa: it will be my knife that ends him.’

*

There was a tense silence as the queen told them Prince Jorge’s offer. Basilius said nothing, thinking it over. Finally the patriarch asked, ‘Is it wise to refuse? We
are
short of men.’

She slapped his bearded face and he cowered like a whipped dog. ‘This
gift
is a measure of contempt, you idiot! What kind of queen would I be if I allowed an army of foreigners to bed down in my capital? Akka would be a garrison; I, a vassal.’

With all the skill of a seasoned courtier, the patriarch changed tack. ‘The bumptious rogue pretends he cannot afford a weak kingdom at his flank, when really he seeks the same thing your uncle did.’

‘My throne,’ she hissed. ‘Grand Master?’

Basilius knew what she had in mind. ‘I can make sure the Byzantines take the brunt.’

‘Some of your Lazars must be sacrificed if he’s not to suspect treachery,’ said the patriarch.

‘That is nothing. We consider our blood already spilled. We shall overwhelm their high places with numbers. The Sands will be quietened, Byzant humbled, Akka’s authority confirmed.’ Basilius took a moment to calm down. ‘What say you, Majesty?’

‘I say you’re not quite the blunt instrument I thought.’

*

The day of battle is generally, but for a few hours of fantastic vividness, duller than most. Aside from marching, it is a day of waiting, manoeuvring, checking arms, keeping horses watered, rechecking arms, and more waiting still. Inevitably and endlessly the soldiers talk of battles fought, anything to remind themselves that survival is possible. Their officers, in terms more elevated, do likewise.

In the command tent, Jorge was telling the Grand Master of his part in the destruction of Concord’s Ninth Legion, though Basilius was so tense that he scarcely attended. He had persuaded Jorge to take only his elite troops on the raid, leaving the main body camped outside Akka, ‘to protect the city’. The queen would seize his men after Prince Jorge’s heroic death was confirmed..

When Jorge had finished his tale, he asked, as if out of nowhere, ‘Who did you replace as Seneschal?’

‘A Northerner like you,’ Basilius answered without thinking, ‘slain by a Sicarii blade, ironically.’

‘Why is that ironic?’

‘He was something of an Ebionite lover.’ Suddenly Basilius started laughing. ‘One of us might be dead tomorrow, so there’s no harm telling the truth, is there? We Lazars don’t have the luxury of waiting to be promoted, and he was in my way, so – well, you get the idea.’ He slapped Jorge’s back. ‘Ha! You look as though you’ve seen a Jinni. Don’t be anxious; we’ll do fine today. It’s one thing for a woman to sit on a throne,’ he added, ‘but at the head of an army? Our victory is assured.’

Yūsuf had revealed that the tribal confederation was going to attack the Kerak de Chartres – which was far to the south – today. The plan was to fall on the undefended encampment left behind, which would both expose the Contessa as a false prophet and destroy Roe de Nail’s prestige in one fell swoop. A nasi who could not even protect his wives seldom ruled long. The inevitable recrimination would fracture the fragile tribal alliance.

Jorge was not enthused. ‘It’s a clever scheme, but it does not seem—’

‘— chivalrous? You may have use for such fine notions at home but the Sands punish the deluded harshly. I’ve planned everything to the last detail.’

Jorge smiled despite himself, ‘One thing I learned in the hippodrome was that no matter how well prepared you are, loose half a dozen chariots on a track and not even God knows what’ll happen. The love of strangers gets pretty tasteless after a while, but the beast turning left when you want him to go right, or a wheel coming off? Ah, that’s when you know you’re alive!’

Beneath his helmet, Basilius smiled to himself as he clapped the prince on the back. ‘Oh, I’m confident that there’ll be a few surprises today, Prince,’ he promised warmly.

Black, half-fallen towers cast porous shadows as dawn broke over the northside. Isabella danced through the enclosed garden, going through her sets obsessively. She had not slept peacefully since the abomination had first invaded her dreams; she’d become accustomed now to waking grinding her teeth. She could not sleep; she could not pray; only Water Style calmed her.

Her trance was interrupted by an urgent pounding on the baptistery’s bronze door that didn’t stop until she had pushed it fully open.

‘You know you can’t be seen topside. What if you were spotted?’

‘This can’t wait,’ said Pedro. ‘Remember you said the buio were more sensitive than my instruments? You were right – I’ve only now picked up what had them spooked.’

‘You’d best come in.’

Pedro emptied his satchel on the floor beside the font and grabbed a scroll. He unrolled a chart of measurements – daily, weekly and monthly. She could barely follow him in his excitement as he pointed out the trends. Then he dived into the pile on the floor and pulled out a small book with a calfskin cover. ‘This is Giovanni’s journal,’ he said, brandishing it. ‘I saved it when we fled Tartarus. It’s mostly Wave theory – too complicated for me, if I’m honest. Bernoulli used acoustics to torture the buio, and this describes how. It’s a dissection of sorts. There’s an essential binding agent in water – Bernoulli called it
aether
. He didn’t know where it came from, just its power. His Molè was a great mill that spilled water into its smallest parts. He realised that water
without aether would collapse, leading to a chain-reaction, and that would—’

‘—cause a Wave.’

‘I assumed that the First Apprentice was building another Molè because he meant to send another Wave, but it’s worse than that – much worse. The subterranean river gives a purer sample than the Irenicon. It seems the aether level has been static for at least a thousand years.’

‘Since Mary’s son died.’

‘I can only speak to what I’ve measured,’ Pedro said doggedly. ‘Up till now, the aether’s been low – that’s not bad in itself; it
should
rise and fall. There are waves throughout all nature – our breath, the tides, solar cycles, and so with aether. When levels are high, there’s harmony. When they are low, there’s not. But we’ve been living through a lull that’s gone on centuries too long. The question left is this: what’s the source of the aether, and what’s the source of obstruction?’

‘It’s not God, if that’s what you’re afraid to ask. It’s us. What Bernoulli called aether is the medium God speaks through. We generate it when the Handmaid’s son inspires us.’

Pedro was wary of such talk. ‘All I know is such prolonged stasis is unnatural. I’m afraid that the Wave has been flat for so long that we’ve reached a critical point where it can’t restart. I think that’s what the First Apprentice wants. Whatever he’s building doesn’t just extract the aether. It destroys it. That’s what my readings seem to show anyway.’

‘It can’t be allowed,’ Isabella said gravely.

‘What can we do? We can barely keep alive.’

‘We ourselves? Nothing. Only Sofia can win this war. All we can do is help her.’

*

The atmosphere in the hub was more tense than usual; the leaders of the Tartaruchi all knew what Pedro was going to say.
Their numbers had dwindled significantly: besides Geta’s toll, infections and flux had carried off many more.

But only Uggeri objected. ‘The Contessa left us one charge: to protect Rasenna.’

‘If Sofia were here, she’d see the same thing the rest of us do,’ Pedro insisted. ‘Rasenna is lost. There’s no shame in a strategic retreat. We’ll return—’

‘The motto of all exiles.’

‘Uggeri, the Signoria is controlled by a Concordian. Our towers are fallen. Giovanni’s bridge is gone. The only flags flying above our heads are the Hawk’s Company’s and Concord’s. If Rasenna exists anywhere, it’s down here. The next city Concord needs to conquer is Veii – that’s the front where what remains of the Southern League should be.’

‘The
League
,’ Uggeri sneered. ‘If you’d made them understand in Ariminum, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘We all wish things had turned out differently,’ Isabella said softly.

‘I’m staying.’

‘
Idiota!
’ Pedro’s anger surprised everybody. ‘You want to get yourself killed, don’t you? You think it’ll prove something to Maddalena.’

‘You give me too much credit. I’m not that complicated, Vanzetti. I just want to strangle that whore.’

‘Then you’re the one betraying Sofia and I’m not going to waste my breath arguing. Anyone else?’

The hulking figure at the back of the cavern stood up. He had to crouch as he lumbered to Uggeri’s side. Pedro knew Jacques was certain in his choice. ‘I guess we all know where we’re supposed to be.’

The meeting broke up as everyone else went to make preparations for the move. Despite Pedro’s brave face, most assumed they would never return.

*

When Maddalena stepped into the banquet hall, the feast was prepared and there at the top of the table sat—

She almost screamed, but she managed to hold off and quickly recovered her composure.

‘Pedro! It’s customary to wait for the head of household,’ she said sliding into a chair next to him. ‘If we don’t practise manners in the breach, what’s the use? Never mind. Here you are, in my house. You were always so good at prediction – tell me, what would happen if I dropped this glass?’

‘Servants and guards would come running and we would not get to talk. I came because of the love our fathers bore each other. Fabbro and I didn’t always agree, but I never doubted his patriotism. I know he never guessed what Geta
was
till it was too late. Neither, I believe, did you. You were like my sister once and it hurts to see you degraded.’

‘This,’ she looked about theatrically, ‘is hardly squalor. Uggeri sent you to plead his case, I suppose?’

‘No. He sees only one resolution to this. I came at the behest of your brothers.’ This was a lie, but one he could justify if it led to reconciliation.

‘They’re alive, then? I wrote to each of them, offering the freedom of Rasenna, and heard nothing—’

‘Salvatore recognises the Tartaruchi as Rasenna’s legitimate authority and will not treat with Geta – or you, so long as you’re attached to him. They know you’re in his power.’

‘
I’m
the one being manipulated? Ha! My brothers have made you a pawn. They expected to wander Europa profiteering, building private fortunes in places where commercial acumen consists of bartering chickens for sheep, and then return to divide the Bombelli estate and leave me a puny dowry. How tragic that things did not work out as they hoped. Tell me, Pedro, you who are
so
logical, why I should let myself be beggared? Because of the accident of my sex?’

‘They merely seek to revenge your father, to rescue you from his murderer—’

‘Uggeri murdered my father,’ she hissed.

‘Uggeri is hot-headed, but he would never—’

‘You’d be more convincing if his bandieratori weren’t proving such efficient assassins. The Signori hardly dares meet for fear of their knives. I can’t say I liked Polo Sorrento much, but he didn’t deserve to be thrown from his tower.‘

‘He was a collaborator.’

‘As am I apparently.’ She drummed her sharp fingers lightly upon her round stomach. ‘So I must expect the same fate. Is that why you came? Where’s your knife concealed?’

‘I’ve come to give you an out. We’re abandoning Rasenna. I’m asking you to come south with us and—’

CHRRrasssshh!

The shattering glass stopped him short.

Maddalena pulled back her chair and stood. ‘Run – and if you escape, give my brothers my love. Tell them I’ll burn what’s left of Rasenna before I let them take it.’

*

Isabella found Carmella sitting in the baptistery chapel sewing a torn flag. A gentle rain pattered on the stained-glass window, melting the colours into each other.

Carmella looked up. ‘So, finally decided our fate, have you?’

‘Yes, we’ve decided. Uggeri’s staying. You’ll go south with Pedro.’

‘And you?’

‘Duty calls me elsewhere. I need someone strong to look after the orphans and the other sisters – that’s you, Sister.’

Carmella threw down the flag. ‘Find another slave. I won’t serve.’

‘You made a vow to obey, and I am head of this order—’

‘This order’s home is here. We’re not mendicants. If you
want to run, fine, you can run. But you leave behind the Sisterhood.’

After Carmella’s pretty little speech, Isabella looked around to see no one was at the door, then said quietly, ‘When you entered this order, you offered up your virginity to the Madonna.’

The novice blushed. ‘Don’t try to besmirch my honour because you’re abandoning yours. Your predecessors never ran from danger.’

‘It’s hopeless.’

‘This is home!’

‘I mean your scheme is hopeless. Uggeri’s heart belongs to another—’

‘You little
bitch
!’