The Boy Who Wept Blood (12 page)

20

Learned Denial
–
26 Luglio
325

Cherubini had drawn a small crowd for his departure. Always a kindly and jovial man, he struggled to mask the pain. Emotions chased each other, passing across his broad face in quick succession. Embarrassment for the cause of his expulsion. Shame for the vicious rumours that circulated in Demesne. Gratitude for those who had come to bid him farewell.

Dino watched from afar, heartbreak welling in his chest like blood from a knife wound. He stood on a street corner of Santa Maria, viewing the scene through the broad arch of the Erudito gatehouse. The red ivy covering so much of Demesne had withered, the drought turning leaves brown like an affliction. Just two hours after sunrise and the day threatened a sultry heat, torpid air beneath dirty clouds. The sun’s glaring copper disc gilded the pale blue of the sky.

‘If only it were me being expelled,’ the Orfano said to Achilles, perched on his shoulder. The drake sunned himself, eyes closed as if in deep contemplation.

Cherubini thanked the stable boy tightening the straps on the two ponies he’d acquired. The
maestro
was a man of some means, never a spendthrift, so the simple cart he’d bought was piled high with possessions he couldn’t bear to leave. Dino guessed there had been some hard choices. The
maestro
owned a great many books, most no doubt given to the care of Simonetti. The archivist stood amid Cherubini’s well-wishers, taller than most by a head, sun reflecting from the corrective optics he wore.

Exquisite furniture had been sold off to fund the journey ahead along with a selection of paintings. Two of the last hung in Dino’s apartment, delivered without warning by Erudito porters that very morning. The paintings would be a constant reminder of his failure.

One moment.

One key. One lock left unturned.

Many of the
professori
who owed their livelihoods to Cherubini were absent. A quiet majority of Demesne’s inhabitants had refused to be seen in the same room as the disgraced
maestro
since the scandal had gone public. All of Cherubini’s good work, all the favours he’d given, the help he’d supplied, all forgotten. Preoccupation with the scandal bordered on obsession.

The days between Cherubini’s discovery and departure had been cruel ones. Dino had watched him from afar, sometimes trailing him. Awkward crossings on staircases with other scholars. The averted gazes of servants. Mumbled greetings in corridors from other nobles. Long days enduring whispering behind his back from the guards. Half-heard unkind words from every dark corner. Cherubini had taken his meals in private, a week of cruelty for one who had been as sociable. Dino told himself he followed him in order to protect the former
maestro
; in truth he was simply trying and failing to approach, desperate to offer some small apology.

Camelia stood alongside Fiorenza. The cook and maid gave the rotund man supplies for his journey, sadness about their shoulders like heavy shawls. Nardo stood to one side, offering a firm salute but nothing more. Speranza was more invested, double-checking the straps on the ponies. Dino’s eyes widened when she removed her scabbard and pressed the short sword into the
maestro
’s hands. Cherubini made a show of refusing the gift, then accepted. Speranza knew well what Cherubini did not: Landfall’s roads were far from safe, especially through the Foresta Vecchia. There was every chance he’d need the messenger’s blade.

The Contadinos emerged from a side door. The
cittadini
bowed and curtsied on instinct. Watching this act of obedience at a distance stirred embarrassment in Dino; nobility was an accident of birth, chance and station made grotesque. The feeling passed as he laid eyes on Massimo, wearing a look of profound concern on his handsome face. The nobles conversed with the former
maestro
briefly, and something changed hands between Margravio Contadino and Cherubini. Achilles scuttled from one shoulder to the other, restless and agitated.

‘I know how you feel,’ said Dino.

Virmyre presented himself, appearing like a thunder cloud in charcoal grey. Stephania accompanied him with a solemn cast on her features. Virmyre hugged the disgraced man, pressing his mouth close to Cherubini’s ear, words intended for the former
maestro
alone. Then Virmyre turned and limped away, back to Anea, no doubt, and the king’s machines.

‘Too bad she didn’t have the decency to come herself,’ said Dino to the drake. Achilles fixed the castle with a stony stare.

It would have taken Virmyre a long time to journey from the old
sanatorio
on account of his limp, Dino realised. He felt a deep pride for the taciturn
professore.
There was something incorruptible about the man, a rare quality within the walls of Demesne.

Stephania kissed Cherubini on each each cheek, a tearful smile on her face as the former
maestro
said something amusing. He climbed up on the cart and shook the reins, tears tracking down his round cheeks, leaving a subdued crowd of waving hands in his wake. None expected to see him again. Dino waited in the heat, forcing unwelcome images from his mind that angered, aroused and confused in equal measure. The cart proceeded across the cobbles, then beneath the arch of the House Erudito gatehouse. Dino stepped into the centre of the street, mouth downturned, feeling the sun beat down on him. The
maestro
drew up beside him in the cart; the din of creaking wood and hooves ceased.

‘Oh dear. Barely a minute into my journey and I’m beset by highwaymen.’ Cherubini’s forced cheerfulness was heartbreaking.

‘Just the one, I’m afraid,’ said Dino, feeling the corners of his vision swim pink with diluted blood. He would not cry, he would not allow it. ‘This is all my fault,’ he blurted. The ponies stamped, flicking their ears impatiently. Achilles ran down Dino’s back and curled around one boot, hiding in the shade of his leg.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ said Cherubini, barely composed after his send-off.

‘It was me. I’m sorry. I need you to know. I left the door unlocked.’

The former
maestro
looked down on him from the cart, perplexed.

‘The Domina sent me to be your bodyguard. I see now that was just a ruse. She said I couldn’t let you know I was protecting you.’

Realisation dawned on Cherubini’s face. He trembled and swallowed. ‘My dear boy. I’m so sorry. Had I known …’

‘The fault is mine. I came in through the window, I should have left the same way. But I was shocked and—’

‘I imagine you were,’ said Cherubini in a whisper. He pressed one plump hand to his mouth, eyes brimming with new tears. ‘How much did you see, Dino?’

‘Everything.’ He looked down at his boots, dusty from the road. ‘I spoke to no one. Save Massimo. I …’ He choked up at the memory of the night, confronted by the stark reality of his own arousal. ‘I’m so sorry, Maestro. I wish I’d locked the door.’

‘So do I, but it’s done now, my boy. And you must remain here to defend Anea from these jackals.’

Dino nodded fiercely. ‘What will you do now?’

‘Oh.’ Cherubini rolled his eyes and dabbed at his cheeks with a purple kerchief. ‘I’ve heard that traders band together and venture down to San Marino every few months. There’s an estate allied with the Contadinos before the forest proper – House Albero. I’ll wait for the traders there, then I’ll hire some men to act as porters and bodyguards. I can finally discover what Lucien has been up to all this time.’

‘I think I’d rather come with you, if you’ll let me.’

Cherubini leaned forward and took a deep breath. ‘Many think me learned, my boy, but if there is one lesson the last several days have taught me it is this: you must be true to yourself. I watched those men because I couldn’t bear the idea I was like them. Not participating was an act of denial, and yet here I am, cast out all the same.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Dino, feeling young and foolish.

‘I persuaded myself that if I didn’t touch another man, if I didn’t love another man –’ Cherubini paused, a pained frown crossing his brow ‘– if I didn’t fuck another man, then I wasn’t truly
invertito.
But I am, and there’s the shame of it.’

‘The shame is ours,’ said Dino. ‘Shame that Landfall is losing someone like you at such an important time.’

‘Don’t get too maudlin; I’m sure Lucien will find a use for me. They’re not nearly as squeamish about sex in the south. I’d have moved there years ago if I hadn’t lied to myself this whole time.’

Dino nodded, heart cold lead in his chest.

‘Are you disappointed in me?’ Cherubini’s voice was a broken whisper, barely heard.

‘I should ask you the same thing.’

‘But are you?’

‘I didn’t want to believe it.’ Dino couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Not at first, when I was in your room. I …’ The Orfano shrugged. ‘Then I was angry. I didn’t understand. It was Massimo that talked me round, of course. I’ve spent the whole week trying to think of anything I could do to make this right – I even sought out Anea. All week I’ve followed you, ghosting along corridors and standing watch. I wanted to be sure you were safe, but I couldn’t speak to you. I …’ The Orfano shrugged again, his lips twisting in misery.

‘I don’t blame you, Dino.’

‘Well maybe you should. I left the door unlocked.’ Achilles hissed and scuttled around his boots.

‘You’ll survive this, Dino, just as I will survive this. You have to accept it.’

‘Well I choose not to!’

‘But you must. Accept that this is done, just as I must accept my time as
maestro
is over.’

Dino blinked, willing away the film of red that slipped across his eyes.

‘Don’t cry for me, Dino. You set me free in a way. I can go to San Marino and be myself, finally, after all these years.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’

Cherubini looked down, his broad face showing only affection. ‘Yes, there is something. Always be true to yourself, Dino. No matter what.’

The
maestro
flicked the reins, and Dino watched the cart recede. It would be many miles before the contents were unpacked, many weeks until Cherubini had somewhere new to call home.

The Orfano turned toward Demesne, Achilles perched on his shoulder once more. Stephania was waiting for him at the Erudito gatehouse.

‘It’s done,’ said Dino.

She held out a kerchief.

‘What am I supposed to do with that?’

‘Your eyes.’ Her voice was lighter than the breeze.

‘Thank you,’ he managed, abashed. ‘Cherubini was the closest thing I had to a father.’

‘I know,’ replied Stephania. Dino held the kerchief to his eyelids, ignoring the stains when the fabric came away bloody.

‘Cherubini is not the only one to suffer.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Dino.

‘My sympathetic ears have been telling me things: a handful of men have been accused of being
invertito.
There have already been beatings.’

‘
Porca miseria
.’

Achilles hissed, blinking in the sunshine, scaly face deeply affronted.

‘And a cook from House Fontein failed to appear for work yesterday morning.’ Stephania sighed. ‘The rumour persists he’s fled south.’

‘How is it that I’m only hearing of this now?’

‘The Domina’s been keeping these events from the eyes and ears of the majority, but …’

‘Your sympathetic ears.’

Stephania nodded, her gaze tracking Cherubini’s progress. She linked arms with the Orfano, pulling him close.

‘I’m going to find this Erebus,’ said Dino. ‘I’m going to introduce him to the full force of my displeasure.’

‘I hope you do, Dino. I really hope you do.’

Together they watched the
maestro
’s cart edge toward the horizon.

21

The Bloody Task
–
26 Luglio
325

The Ravenscourt was well attended. Maids, cooks and porters of every rank and stripe looked down from the gallery, gossiping in whispers. The nobles clustered together in groups, each an island of hostility. Dino positioned himself at the back of the room, leaning against the wall.

‘Are you sure you won’t stand with me at the front?’ said Stephania.

‘I don’t trust myself not to speak out; I’ll wait here.’

The noblewoman nodded and moved across the Ravenscourt with a determined stride, fan fluttering in the heat. Achilles remained perched on Dino’s shoulder, head turning in precise, small movements as he regarded the drifting nobility. Dino scoured the attendees with eyes of granite. Speranza was close by. He summoned her with a flick of his head.

She was a slight woman but moved with assurance, and riding had put muscle on her bones. There was something boyish about her, not least the men’s britches she wore and the tricorn sporting scarlet and black feathers.

‘That was a kind thing you did for Cherubini,’ he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the dais, where the Domina waited for Anea.

‘Thank you, my lord.’ Speranza tucked her thumbs into her sword belt, now bereft of the weapon she’d given away.

‘I took the liberty of retrieving this from a wardrobe.’ Dino presented a short sword he’d concealed along the line of his leg. ‘It needs sharpening and there are a few notches from where I trained with it.’

The scabbard was enamelled black, its locket dull but would polish nicely given time. The chape had seen better days and was loose.

‘My lord, I can’t …’

‘You can’t
not
have a blade at a time like this. And you can dispense with the
my lord
.’

She drew the blade slowly, noting the basket hilt, the elegant lines of steel circling her fist. A smile worked its way onto her lips.

‘Now tell me: what makes a low-paid messenger give up a sword for a disgraced
maestro
?’

She didn’t get the chance to answer.

‘Lords and ladies of Landfall.’ The Domina’s voice filled the room, silencing all.

‘So it begins,’ whispered Dino, lip curling to a sneer. Achilles scuttled across his shoulders, tail switching back and forth. Anea entered, pale, gaunt, distracted. Virmyre was notable by his absence, a considerable breach of etiquette. Anea was followed by a much shorter man. He would have looked like a child if not for the stick he used, the weight of years so obviously pressing down on him. Watery blues eyes stared at the room over an aquiline nose that dominated his lined face. His wife hovered behind him, nearly as wide as he was tall.

‘After long consideration and a series of recommendations,’ Russo gestured to the man beside Anea, ‘I present to you the new
maestro
of House Erudito.’

Polite applause.

‘Nice to see they found someone who isn’t scared of his own shadow,’ growled Dino. Speranza looked uncomfortable.

‘House Diaspora recognises Maestro di Fidelio, and will aid and advise him in all ways,’ continued the Domina. ‘It is the wish of everyone that his appointment will herald a new period of cooperation between the houses, ushering in an era in which all can live peacefully.’

A susurration of whispering sounded from the front of the room. Dino spotted the
capo
muttering to Duchess Prospero, who smiled and fanned herself, unbearably smug. Across the room, standing in the shadow of the gallery, was Stephania. She looked thoroughly alone, accompanied by her maid and messenger as she was. Her eyes were fixed pointedly on the dais, as if ignoring the other nobles might banish them.

The new
maestro
limped to the front of the dais and began to speak, but his words were swallowed by the great chamber. His was a thin reedy voice that cracked often. Dino’s mind drifted, thinking of Cherubini on the cart with only ponies for company. He wondered at the journey ahead, through the Foresta Vecchia and down to San Marino, perched on the cliffs above the sea.

‘My lord,’ whispered Speranza. He looked up, noting the ceremony had droned to its conclusion without his attention. The other nobles made small gifts to the new
maestro
. He was now attired in scholarly robes and a ridiculous velvet hat that conspired to make him look like a gnome. ‘Thank you for the sword,’ said Speranza. She exited the Ravenscourt ahead of the crush.

Dino maintained his slouch at the back of the chamber, searching the faces of every noble as they left, looking for traces of guilt or anxiety. Could it be possible that the author of Erebus’ letter was among them?

Duke Fontein took care to avoid his gaze, while the duchess offered a cold stare. Of all the houses it was Fontein that could make free with their funds. Were their coffers the source of the donation with which Erebus had secured the Domina’s favour?

Margravio Contadino was deep in conversation with his wife. Medea managed a brief nod in Dino’s direction before leaving. Massimo trailed behind his lord, offering a smile and the kindness of his eyes. The Contadinos were no more the author of the letter than Achilles. Duchess Prospero sneered and fanned herself while the
capo
did his best not to trip over the train of her elaborate dress. She had the wealth and the motivation. Adopting an alias to screen her intentions would be wise indeed.

Dino watched them depart in twos and threes. Anea had taken her leave through a concealed door at the back of the room. Her absence at Cherubini’s departure continued to rankle. Dino nodded politely to the new
maestro
, who smiled as he passed with his rotund wife. Achilles hissed and turned his back.

‘Behave yourself,’ muttered the Orfano to the drake.

Golden motes drifted on the air of the Ravenscourt, stirred by the nobility’s exit.

‘You could at least stand like a man of the court.’ The Domina stepped down from the dais, shielding her eyes from the sun with the palm of her hand. ‘Instead you lounge like an upstart in borrowed finery.’ It was noon. Dino felt sweat beneath his arms and between his toes. The heat paled in significance when compared to the anger inside him. ‘You should stop attending if you really can’t mask your contempt,’ continued the Domina. ‘The Ravenscourt won’t miss you.’ She’d come closer, strides short and measured, grip on the silver staff tight. ‘This has to stop, Dino. I know you were close to Cherubini, but his position was untenable. It’s all for the good.’

‘Is it?’ Dino pushed himself off the wall and rolled his shoulders. Achilles scuttled off, skulking at his boots, looking pugnacious. ‘Because as far as I can tell, we’re losing. Cherubini was our voice of reason. Anea’s barely here, and when she does attend she’s dead on her feet. Virmyre’s much the same. That leaves us Margravio Contadino, who’s long past the point of diplomacy.’

‘Perhaps we can help him in this regard.’ The Domina sighed, passing a hand over her features, pushing tension from her brow with ink-stained fingertips. For a fleeting second there was the ghost of the Russo he’d once known, the Russo that had existed before duty scoured her down to function. Before the Domina.

‘How will you help him?’ asked Dino, seizing on the thread of hope.

She composed herself. Suddenly the command was back, spine straight, dark eyes serious, mouth betraying nothing. She looked around the chamber as if hearing voices, then raised her eyes to the galleries. They were quite alone.

‘Margravio Contadino seeks to keep Duchess Fontein captive on an estate to ensure the duke’s good behaviour. I’d rather the duke was made to answer for his part in the plot against Anea more directly.’ She’d inched closer, words dangerous and low.

‘We need proof,’ said Dino. ‘Anea said we need proof, something to show the court.’

‘The duke’s no fool,’ whispered the Domina. ‘Do you really think he’d leave a confession lying around.’

‘We can hardly pit my testimony, eavesdropping from a window ledge, against the word of Duke Fontein. We need something irrefutable – you said the same yourself.’

‘I’m fully aware of what I said,’ she snapped.

Dino clenched his jaw and tucked his thumbs into his sword belt. ‘Sympathy for Anea will dwindle if word gets out that we’re spying.’

‘They know,’ snarled the Domina. ‘Stop being such an ingenue. They all have people inside the other houses, previously loyal retainers taking bribes for secrets or favours.’

‘Perhaps.’ Dino thought of Stephania and her sympathetic ears.

‘They’re all at it, Dino. You need to face facts. Childhood is over.’ Her voice was a droning bitter thing that unnerved him.

‘I don’t need any lectures on maturity.’ Dino had stepped closer, only a hand’s width separating their faces.

‘We’re not giving the duke a trial,’ said the Domina in a whisper.

Dino stared at her, eyes narrowing to slits. ‘Assassination then?’

The Domina nodded. ‘If you have to give it a name, I suppose that’s as good as any.’

Dino crossed his arms and snorted with disgust. ‘I won’t do it.’

‘Be practical, Dino. This is how things are now. They struck first.’

‘And we’re to stoop to their level?’

‘You heard with your own ears that he ordered the attack; now be a man and make him pay for his insolence.’

Dino grimaced and shook his head. ‘Anea would never—’

‘This is precisely why Anea put me in charge. I can do the things she can’t.’ The Domina’s mouth was a cruel sneer. ‘She longs to be rid of the wrangling in court. This is an elegant solution. And you’re perfect for it, Dino. The perfect killer.’

‘I kill when combat is joined; I don’t hunt people.’

‘Then perhaps I’ll ask Massimo.’

Dino glowered at her but said nothing, then clicked his fingers twice, causing Achilles to scuttle up his leg and across his back to the perch of his shoulder. Man and drake passed between the double doors of the Ravenscourt, down the stairs and through the king’s library. He emerged into the circular corridor of the Central Keep, into the mass of porters, cooks, messengers, scholars and aides marching about like ants. Stephania lurked by a buttress. She gestured him over with a wave.

‘The Domina has asked you to start spying for her again.’

Dino nodded, then swallowed, plastering a smile over the lie.

‘Is there really no one else?’

‘Not for the task she has in mind.’ A task a good deal more dangerous than lurking on window ledges or dressing up as a cook.

‘Do you want me to speak to Russo?’ pressed Stephania, eyes full of concern. She reached out and touched him lightly on the forearm.

‘No. If I don’t do it then she’ll make Massimo, something I want to spare him from.’ He pressed a hand to his face. ‘I’m sorry, Stephania. I’ve said too much.’

‘You’re a good person, Dino.’

He nodded again. ‘I have to go and prepare a few things.’

She kissed him on each cheek and went on her way, back to the sunny balcony of her apartment, no doubt. How he envied her.

Dino walked the winding corridors deep in thought, guessing likely outcomes, worrying at consequences. He spent the day drifting through the deep shadows of Demesne. Each corner he took, each doorway he passed, brought him closer to the awful truth.

‘There’s not a single soul I can depend on to finish what Duke Fontein started,’ he whispered to the drake. Achilles wrapped about his neck, nudging his cheek with a cool snout.

‘I have to spare Massimo this bloody task, spare him this war of assassins.’