The Devil in Music (49 page)

Julian
began to feel some sympathy if not for Rinaldo now, then for the
frightened, belittled boy he had once been. But he was still that
boy, Julian realized. Underneath his bravado and skittish pride, he
probably always would be.

"So
you set out for Novara with half a dozen servants," said Julian.
"What then?"

"The
courier met me in Novara. He'd already alerted the Pied monte se
police and the loyalist garrison in Novara that Beatrice was
missing." but we knew we couldn't count on them to help us much
they had their hands full with the revolt. We mustered as many
searchers as we could and set off along the road between Turin and
Novara. By the end of the day, we'd found the point where she turned
north. We divided into parties of two or three and separated, each
party assigned to search a different part of northern Piedmont. I
took two servants and went northeast."

"How
long did you continue searching?"

"All
that night and the next day. We'd arranged to meet in Oleggio that's
a town about halfway between Novara and Lake Maggiore at the end of
the day. Soon after I got there, a message came that one of the
search parties had found my stepmother in Belgirate. I set off at
once to bring her home. I arrived exhausted and saddle-sore from
riding all day and all the previous night. But was she the least bit
sorry? Not she! Oh, she apologized prettily enough. But she didn't
care."

"Did
she give any explanation for leading you such a dance?"

"She's
never felt she had to explain herself to me. She actually had the
gall to ask if my father had been worried about her when it was I
who'd been searching for her for almost two days! I said he didn't
even know she'd disappeared I'd left orders with the servants in
Milan that he wasn't to be sent word unless I gave leave."

Julian
wanted to know more about Rinaldo's movements on the night of the
murder. "How did you go about searching for Marchesa Beatrice
at night? You must have astonished a good many villagers, knocking
them up in the small hours to ask after her party."

"We
mostly enquired at custom's offices and inns where she might have
changed horses. I sent the two servants I'd brought with me to drive
along the Ticino the river on the eastern border of Piedmont and see
if she'd crossed into Lombardy, while I searched the villages further
west."

"Alone?"

"Yes.
The servants had been driving me to distraction, wanting to know
what we should do next, and looking at me as if they expected me to
produce Beatrice out of my saddle-bag. They kept whispering to each
other, and I knew they were saying they wished my father had been
there instead of me. I had to get away from them. Of course they
made a fuss about my going off alone, but I told them I had a brace
of pistols and could look after myself."

Did
Rinaldo grasp the significance of what he was saying? Julian

wondered.
He admitted to being alone on the night of the murder, armed with
pistols, in a region of Piedmont within a few hours' ride from the
Lake of Como. Would he have volunteered such information if he were
guilty? He might, if he thought Julian would find out some other
way. Certainly the rewards for killing his father would have been
great. At one stroke, he would have freed himself from Lodovico's
domination and made himself one of the wealthiest landowners in
Lombardy.

But
if Rinaldo had killed Lodovico, did that mean it was he who had left
the note and glove at the castle, and so lured Lodovico to the
belvedere on the following night? If so, then he had not only killed
his father but planned the murder in advance. Yet how could he have
known that his stepmother would conveniently go missing, so that he
would have an excuse to wander the countryside alone? Could he and
Beatrice have been acting in concert. Was their enmity all a blind?

He
asked, "Where were you on the night before you learned of
Marchesa Beatrice's disappearance?"

"What
difference does that make?"

"The
rest of your family have been willing to tell me."

"I
don't see how the rest of my family can remember. It was years ago.
I suppose I was at home." He looked bitter. "I didn't go
out much."

"Have
you ever seen a lady's glove decorated with green silk myrtle leaves
and a ruby heart pierced by a diamond shaft?"

"What
has that to do with my father's murder?"

"Have
you seen such a glove?" Julian repeated.

"No!
If I did, I never noticed it. What do I care about lady's gloves?"

"This
one may have belonged to a woman your father knew years ago."

"One
of his harem of mistresses?" Rinaldo laughed mirthlessly.
"That's just the sort of thing he used to give them."

"Do
you know the names of any mistresses he had when you were very young
perhaps before you were born?"

"No.
I never wanted to know about them. Why?"

Julian
explained how the glove had been left at Castello Malvezzi on the
night before the murder. Rinaldo said, "I expect the singer
brought it."

"Do
you know anything about him?" Julian asked.

"Only
that he was English and a tenor. I was away when my father took up
with him."

"Did
Marchese Lodovico ever write to you about him?"

"He
never wrote or talked to me about music," Rinaldo mumbled. "I
don't have any ear for it."

"You
mentioned that you were away from Milan when Marchese Lodovico met
Orfeo. When did you return?"

"A
few weeks before my father died."

"Did
you see your father during that time?"

"No.
He was away at the lake with his tenor and didn't invite me to join
them, so I stayed in Milan."

"Signora
Argenti wrote to you from the lake, where she had come with Signer
Valeriano. But I understand that it was Marchese Lodovico rather
than you who answered her letter."

"I
sent it on to him to answer."

"Why?"

"Because
I wanted her crushed!" Rinaldo walked about rapidly, fists
clenched. "Because I wanted the bitch ground in the dust, and I
thought he would do it better than I would. Ever since I'd arrived
in Milan, everyone had been sniggering at me. I was the man whose
wife would rather go to bed with a eunuch than with him. Improvisers
made up poems and songs about me. I couldn't go anywhere."

"Did
you ever think of coming to the lake to confront your wife and Signer
Valeriano?"

"That
was just what she wanted to meet me face to face, so that she could
try to cajole me into letting her see Niccolo and Bianca. I wasn't
going to give her that chance."

It
had nothing to do with the murder enquiry, but Julian could not help
asking, "Do you ever mean to allow her to see them?"

"I'll
see them damned first, and myself as well! Have you any idea what
she's done to me? Do you know what it is to have a wife, and to know
that every day, every hour, she's betraying you before all the
world?"

"You
do have a means of obtaining satisfaction," Julian pointed out.

"Oh,
don't taunt me with that." Rinaldo's voice was suddenly tired,
quiet, and more wretched than Julian had heard it before. "I
know Valeriano will have told you about the duel."

Julian
pricked up his ears. Valeriano had said nothing about any duel.
Julian felt his way. "I'm willing to hear your side."

"I
had to call him out after my wife left me for him. Even if my honour
hadn't demanded it, my father would have given me no peace. I

sent
a challenge I'd written at my father's dictation. Valeriano accepted
We met at the appointed time and place. Our seconds measured the
ground and inspected the pistols."

He
went to the window and stood with his back to Julian, his hands
against the panes. "Valeriano was so so tall. He was quiet and
dignified. He wasn't afraid at all events, he didn't seem to be.
But I was ten years younger, and I'd never fought a duel before."

Julian
pictured it all very clearly. He knew the strange, lightheaded
sensation of proceeding to the place of meeting, not knowing if you
would leave it alive or dead knowing only that you must not seem to
care. Because whichever of the combatants showed fear had lost
already lost the battle of nerves, which in its way was as important
as the duel itself. It was all too clear who had won the battle of
nerves in Rinaldo's case.

"Tell
me what happened," Julian said.

"We
took our places, the signal was given, and we fired. Valeriano fired
into the air. I fired at him and missed." He spun around
toward Julian, his face scarlet. "I was nervous! I'd never
shot at a live person before or been shot at by one. I just couldn't
hold the gun steady. When I found he hadn't hit me hadn't even tried
I was so shocked, I came over dizzy. I could hardly stand. My
second was looking at me, and I knew he expected me to demand a
second shot. I did. Valeriano agreed. We loaded our pistols
again."

Rinaldo
stood sideways, his body tense, his eyes staring into vacancy, as if
he were on the duelling field again. "I knew by the look in his
eyes, by the calm way he stood when we took our ground, that he was
going to do exactly the same thing fire into the air. I was more
nervous than ever. I could hardly see for the sweat pouring down my
face. I had no excuse not to hit him this time, when he wasn't even
going to try to hit me."

Rinaldo
lifted his hand, his forefinger extended as if he held a gun. "The
signal came. He fired into the air. I I " He slowly lowered
his arm. "I missed him again. It was humiliating. My second
looked at me in disgust. He said I had better declare myself
satisfied, and I did. Valeriano bowed and went away. I wanted to run
after him, say for God's sake kill me, anything would be better than
being sent back to face "

He
ended on a gasp that was nearly a sob. Julian asked gently, "What
did your father do when he found out?"

"I
don't want to remember." Rinaldo passed a hand across his face.
"Those were the worst hours of my life. In the end I asked him
to let me leave Milan. I had to have his permission I hadn't any
money

of
my own. He practically threw it at me. He said I was only fit to
crawl away like a whipped dog, with my tail between my legs. I went
to Florence, Naples, Spain. It didn't matter everywhere I went I saw
the same thing: Valeriano, tall as a tower, pointing his gun at the
heavens and firing and myself, trying to hit him and failing, always
failing."

"Have
you any idea why he didn't return your shot?" To Julian, this
was the most curious part of the whole affair.

"I
don't know. To humiliate me, I suppose."

"He
couldn't have known you wouldn't hit him. He could very easily have
been killed."

"How
can I tell what was in his mind? I'm not a damned eunuch! I don't
know how they think! He probably hates all men who aren't mutilated
like him. He fired into the air to show how brave he was, and to
make me feel it was I who was only a fragment of a man, not he. But
I'll make him suffer for it somehow, some day!"

"He
gave you satisfaction," Julian reminded him. "He owes you
nothing more."

"Do
you think honour is a thing to be totted up on a ledger?"
Rinaldo's monkey face twisted. "To hell with your satisfaction!
While he lives, and she is with him, I am not avenged!"

His
interrogation over, Rinaldo went up to Carlo's room, where he found a
hot bath and a pile of white towels smelling of orange-flower water.
His silver-handled razor lay gleaming on the washstand in case he
wished to shave. Ernesto was waiting to assist him however he might
require. Rinaldo sent him to fetch more towels, although there were
already plenty. It was their usual struggle, renewed each time
Rinaldo returned from his travels: Rinaldo striving to be rid of his
father's manservant every way he could, Ernesto clinging on, serving
the young marchese as he had served the old.

With
Ernesto's assistance, Rinaldo bathed and changed into his evening
clothes. The local church bells were chiming the half hour after
five when he dismissed Ernesto and took a last look in the glass
before going downstairs. All at once the door behind him opened
again. "I don't need you anymore " Rinaldo began
irritably. Then he saw in the looking-glass that it was not Ernesto.