The Outcast Blade (6 page)

Giulietta froze.

“You said men dressed as Mamluks took you and were attacked in their turn, and your new captors held you on an island in the lagoon?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I was blindfold, wrapped in a carpet and carried through streets, locked in a deserted room.” Her voice was rising and Tycho wondered how much she’d drunk. His own body adjusted for wine. Giulietta’s didn’t.

“And the
krieghund
killed your new captors?”

“
Yes
,” Giulietta said. “
He…
”

Her voice died away and she swallowed. The beast that killed her captors became the man who loved her, without ever bedding her. The complex, charming, deadly and now dead Prince Leopold zum Bas Friedland.

“Sorry,” Tycho said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“
Everything upsets me
. Look at what I’m wearing… My husband is dead. I’m not allowed to feed my child in private. And worst of all…” She waved her hand to where Alonzo and Alexa sat; one drunk and the other watchful. “I’m back here. In the bosom of my loving family.”

“
Giulietta
.”

But he’d left it too late.

Her chair was scraping back.

This time no guard tried to stop her leaving.

“May I join you…?”

Looking up from his cup, Tycho found the Regent standing over him, while half a hundred courtiers pretended not to watch. Alonzo tapped Lady Giulietta’s abandoned chair as if he might need permission to sit.

“I’d be honoured, my lord.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s tired.”

“We’re all tired.” Prince Alonzo caught his irritation, reaching for a honeyed almond and sucking it slowly while he let his scowl dissolve. “These have been difficult times for all of us.”

Tycho waited.

One almond followed another.

When the Regent reached for a glass it was Tycho’s own, which Alonzo then emptied in a single gulp, waving away a servant who hurried forward with her jug. “Don’t want women listening when men talk, do we?” Alonzo shrugged. “I know we’ve had our differences…”

One way of describing his order that Tycho be sent south to be sold in the slave markets of Cyprus.

Tycho had more sense than to say this and simply nodded, wondering what Alonzo wanted. Because he wanted something. The way the Regent was forcing himself to be polite said he wanted it badly.

“You and my niece? You’ve become close?”

“My lord?”

The Regent sighed. “Enough fencing. I’m a simple man. A soldier. I like those who speak plainly and tell the truth. Did you befriend Lady Giulietta on the return trip?”

“She needed to talk, my lord.”

“Of course she did. Women always do. What about?”

“Her husband’s death.”

Prince Alonzo stiffened at the words. “You were at this wedding? It was done properly? With a real priest and legitimate witnesses?”

“Prior Ignacio took the service. King Janus witnessed it. The entire Cypriot court was there. I acted as groom’s man…”

“You?”

“I was his choice.”

Bending closer, Alonzo said, “You knew what he was?”

“A
krieghund
, my lord. A werebeast from the Teutenbourg forests. You told me the night I was given my instructions. But he fought hard and died well, and Lady Giulietta wouldn’t be here without him. My lord Atilo can bear witness.”

“Do you know how my niece and he met?”

“No, my lord,” Tycho said firmly. “I know nothing of that.”

“And the brat…” Prince Alonzo’s voice had a studied neutrality. “To whom Leopold passed his lands and titles. Do you believe it is his? I’ve been told zum Friedland’s interests ran in other directions.”

“Leopold claimed him.”

“So I’m told. Does Giulietta claim it’s his?”

Sweat beaded the Regent’s forehead where greying hair swept back in the old style. It was hot for mid-May and the man was drunk, but not enough to explain his scarlet face.

“My lord…”

“Answer me, damn it.”

“You would need to ask her, my lord.”

Outrage flooded the Regent’s features and he stood, whether to draw a dagger, stamp away or shout was unclear. But the truth was, Giulietta hadn’t named the father of her child.
I went to Leopold’s bed a maid
.

She’d sworn those words in a chapel full of White Crucifers in Cyprus. And yet Leopold had asked Tycho if the child was his. And Giulietta claimed she was untouched still, the child cut from her by a Jewish surgeon. A riddle Tycho couldn’t begin to unravel. Since the child must have a father.

“My lord, some things are best left unspoken.”

Prince Alonzo sat down again. He sat, pulled his chair close to Tycho and draped one arm heavily around his shoulder. “So,” he said. “We get closer to the truth. She’s told you the child is not his?”

“Prince Leopold told me.”

The Regent froze. “He knew?”

“We spoke of it only once. But Leopold knew.”

“And my niece has never told you who the father…?”

“As I said, my lord. Some things are best left unspoken.”

Sitting back, the Regent clicked his fingers for the servant he’d dismissed earlier. She was young and full-figured, exactly the kind to attract Prince Alonzo’s attention, and for that Tycho was glad. Although, seeing the tightness in her eyes when the Regent wrapped his arm round her hips he felt sorry for the girl.

“Perhaps I’ve misjudged you.”

Alonzo was talking to Tycho obviously.

Words had little to do with what he had planned for the girl.

Understanding he was dismissed from his own seat, Tycho stood, bowed to the Regent and left. When he glanced back, the girl sat in Alonzo’s lap and everyone was pretending not to notice. Apart from Alexa, who looked rigid with fury.

Her gaze nailed Tycho as he headed for the privies and fresh air outside. Apparently she held him responsible.

When the servant girl reappeared next morning it was with the bowlegged gait usually found in Venetian boys newly introduced to the saddle. “Drink this,” a liveried messenger said.

She stared at the liquid doubtfully.

“Duchess’s orders.”

From her vantage point Alexa discovered this did little to assuage the girl’s misery. Even three rooms away from her brother-in-law’s chambers Alexa had heard the yelps, whimpers and cries.

She had a right to be miserable.

Her messenger also gave the girl two gold ducats and told her to keep them hidden, five pieces of silver so people would know she’d been rewarded, and a handful of copper to buy passage to the mainland.

There would be no child from Alonzo’s sport. With Marco, Alexa had a different problem altogether. It was not that Marco had to be restrained from bedding anything female.

He could not be started.

Sighing, Alexa watched the girl pocket the coins, unaware her action was observed through a spyhole. And then, that problem
solved, the duchess headed for her son’s chambers, already knowing what she’d find.

Another girl untouched.

No one had bothered to learn the name of last night’s offering. Infinite care had been taken, however, to ensure she was in sound enough mind to know what would happen if she upset Marco.

She’d done as ordered. Smiled prettily, leant forward so her full breasts swayed inside her gown, leant back, so they jutted skywards. Duke Marco had shown not the slightest interest.

“My lady, we must accept facts.”

Duchess Alexa glared at the alchemist.

So confident was Dr Crow in his position he barely bothered to look contrite. Instead he brushed dirt from his rotting gown. The man could afford new clothes but rarely bothered to buy them. He cared little about appearance. So he said…

“She is unbedded?”

“Was and is,” he said brightly. “You could strip her naked, tie her down, leave her here for the rest of the year and she’d remain so.”

“Then what’s he been doing for the last eight hours?”

The duchess was happy to arrange bedfellows for her son but drew the line at watching what happened. A surprising delicacy in a woman rumoured to have made the late duke her willing servant with unspeakable bed skills. The rumour was untrue. Theirs had been a love match, surprisingly enough.

“Well?” Alexa demanded.

“What his highness always does, my lady. Hums to them, offers them sweetmeats, tells them little stories, brushes their hair.”

Marco looked over from where he sat up in his bed and smiled. He held a book in his hands. It was upside down.

“What do you read, my lord?”

“W-w-words, w-words, words.”

Dr Crow smiled in return.

The Jewish girl beside him had her head turned away. Her
face was drawn and her lips tight. She knew she’d failed, but was too scared to realise how many others had failed before her.

“Get the girl up. Get rid of her.”

Duke Marco’s lips trembled and his eyes brimmed. Opening his mouth, he shut it again and chewed his lip. After a second, he took the young woman’s hand and gripped it tightly. When he squeezed, she locked her fingers into his.

“Her f-father is a r-rabbit.”

Alexa sighed.

“But s-she’s another s-spider.”

“Give her father money,” Alexa told Dr Crow. “I’ll find her a post in the palace tomorrow.”

Marco nodded.

“You should sleep,” Alexa said. “Desdaio is coming later.”

“D-desdaio,” the duke said happily.

Alexa had once hoped Desdaio and Marco might marry, making the Millioni, already one of the richest families in Europe, even richer. Unfortunately, her son was an idiot and Desdaio had fallen for Atilo. And anyway, her son showed as little interest in Desdaio in that way as he did in any other girl.

How could Alexa preserve her husband’s inheritance if Marco wouldn’t produce an heir?

“Be k-kind to Elizavet,” Marco said suddenly.

“Elizavet?” His mother was shocked he’d bothered to learn her name… “You like this one?”

March nodded slyly. “Send her to T-t-tycho. Tell him he’s not to h-hurt her. They can be spiders t-together.”

Alexa sometimes wondered if he understood more than she thought. And then, as if to prove her thought ridiculous, he’d begin eating the pages of a book to taste the words, or stand naked in a rose bed because he wanted to know how it felt to have thorns, and the doubts would leave her. Her son was the fifth Millioni duke of Venice. A worrying number of Venetians were beginning to say he might be the last.

“We have spies out asking questions.”

“But no answers?”

Duchess Alexa flushed. “
Giulietta…
”

“I could have been killed. You realise that?”

“Many people were killed.”

Monks, and they didn’t like me anyway
. Giulietta caught herself in time. It was bad enough even to think of it. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not just about keeping you safe. You belong here.”

“I’m Leopold’s widow and I belong at Ca’ Friedland.” Lady Giulietta hoped her voice sounded firm. Truth was, she wasn’t really sure how she felt about living at Leopold’s ramshackle palace on the Grand Canal. She simply knew she didn’t want to live with her aunt and uncle.

“I’ll talk to Alonzo and we’ll decide.”

“There’s nothing to decide. And I’m done with that.”

“Done with what?”

“W-what, w-what, w-what, w-what…”

Her cousin was kicking his heels in a window seat as he watched seagulls fighting for scraps over the Molo. He seemed
fascinated by the way they hung static above the water steps, riding the wind with tiny flicks of knife-blade wings. The afternoon was hot, the lagoon beginning to warm. The canal behind Ca’ Ducale had started to smell and by next month would stink.

Having looked defiant and decided that was childish, Giulietta tried for grown-up and determined instead. Her previous methods of arguing had involved shouting, slamming doors and bursting into tears. Whatever the argument she invariably lost.

One thing
had
changed though.

She was sixteen, widowed and had a child. In all the days she’d been back neither her aunt nor uncle had threatened her with the whip. So maybe they’d adjusted how they thought of her without realising. Surely that should make it easier for them to adjust to her living elsewhere?

“I said, done with what?”

“Getting everyone’s permission for everything.”

“I’m the duchess,” Alexa said stiffly.

Giulietta sucked her teeth.

“Gods, I
understand
how Venice works. I need the Ten’s permission to leave the city or trade in rare goods, buy new estates or build a palace. Even remarry, although why I’d want… I
know
you and Uncle Alonzo rule Venice.”

Duchess Alexa’s shoulders stiffened.

“Because Marco is bored by such things,” Giulietta added hastily. Hearing his name Marco grinned happily.

“This has to do with that boy.”

“Which boy?

“You know perfectly well which boy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Giulietta said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before allowing herself to continue. “Really, I have no idea at all.”

“Then why are you so cross?”

“
Because you won’t leave me alone
.”

There, now she was crying. Standing, Giulietta felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Marco wide-eyed and offering her a purple scarf. Having wiped her nose, she hesitated about handing it back.

“K-k-keep it.”

“You arranged my marriage to Janus. And don’t you dare say I had to marry someone. You arranged my marriage to a Black Crucifer because he ruled Cyprus, and Cyprus controlled the trade routes out of Egypt.”

“He was Black only briefly.”

“So everyone says. Black Crucifers torture people.”

“For the remission of their sins.”

“
I don’t care
.” Her voice cracked. “You arranged the marriage. And then…” She stopped and glanced sidelong at Marco, wondering how to word what came next. She’d been told to murder Janus, but slowly using the poisons her aunt provided. Every kiss would harm him a little more.