The Warring States (The Wave Trilogy) (28 page)

Isabella looked up. ‘I was just thinking of you.’

‘I haven’t been avoiding you,’ Sofia said lamely. ‘It’s this place. I come here and I think of the Reverend Mother and the Doc. It scares me. Even when the Families were at their worst, we had them to defend it. All we have now is an army.’

‘And you.’

‘I’m not Contessa any more.’

‘You’re much more than that. Memories weren’t keeping you away. You didn’t want me to discover the truth. Sofia, you need to understand there’s no escaping it. Soon everyone will know.’

‘How could I be—?’ Sofia began, then stopped in embarrassment. ‘I’ve never been with a man.’

‘I believe you.’

‘No one else will.’

‘You accepted the responsibility. Now you must live with it.’

‘Why?’ Sofia felt like a child who finds the rules changed. ‘I thought that when I said yes, there would be a change in the world as well as me. If I’m lucky, people will whisper behind my back. More likely they’ll call me whore to my face. My grandfather made the Scaligeri name famous and Doc died defending it. I had to give up my title – I accept that, and I accept that Rasenna has to change – but why must my name be tarnished?
Can’t God change the hearts of men? He can open tracks in the desert, move mountains, stop rivers. If this child is His, shouldn’t everyone know it?’

‘No one can know,’ Isabella hissed, ‘and you know why.’ She pointed to the sword above their heads. ‘Nothing’s changed in two thousand years. The same power that destroyed the Madonna’s child will murder yours if It learns of Him.’

‘But why must I sacrifice my name?’

‘It’s that or your child. Would you choose differently?’

When Sofia said nothing, Isabella asked, ‘What did the Apprentice say? The one in red you and Giovanni fought on the bridge.’

‘Before the river took him he said he was going to tell his Master.’

The beads worked in Isabella’s fingers, a habit she had learned from the Reverend Mother. ‘The Madonna was just a woman like you. Herod and Bernoulli were just men, but this child, this child is
more
.’

‘What if I’m too weak?’

‘Then Man will sleep on, troubled by the same old nightmares. But if you are strong enough – O, what a wakening!’

Sofia’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’ll give up everything – become a nun; people can whisper all they want.’

‘There’s no safety here.’

‘Where could be safer than Rasenna?’

‘There is refuge only at the World’s centre.’

‘Are you
pazzo
? Jerusalem is half a world away.’

‘You’d sense the water’s flow if you still practised contemplation.’

Sofia could not deny it. She’d sought to avoid water since the
buio
’s visitation, but nowhere in Rasenna was far from the Irenicon, and every time she crossed Giovanni’s bridge she felt it: a black storm of hunger blowing towards Rasenna, and the
river whispering
Run! Run while you can!

She had ignored it. She had been Contessa and bride in Rasenna, prisoner in Concord and cook in the Hawk’s Company; if she must be Handmaid now, very well, but for once it would be on her terms. The ceaseless costume changes were like some desperate farce and she was tired of it. Most of all, she was tired of running.

‘Sofia, war is coming. The longer you tarry, the greater the danger to you, and the worse the destruction visited on Rasenna. Wherever you go now, the Darkness follows. Now that It knows you’re in the world, Its agents hunt for you. Stop and It will consume you. There is no safe tower, no friend who cannot be corrupted, no water that will not be polluted.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Isabella cupped her hands in the baptismal font and held up her palms. They were covered in blood.

The Gospel According to
St Barabbas

As Sofia predicted, the nuptials of Rosa Sorrento and Piers Becket were heralded in every piazza. Becket was enthusiastic about joining Rasenna’s magnates, and Polo Sorrento – though still cold to his daughter – was mollified by the new prominence his tower would gain in the transaction. The condottieri might be nothing more than foreign thugs with swords, but their ranks and military bearing created an air of legitimacy that a bodyguard of masterless bandieratori could never match. Watching how the farmer had turned humiliation to profit, the other magnates considered selling their own daughters before they were taken for free.

A great feast was prepared in Piazza Luna, with tables of meat and drink and entertainments not seen since the night the bridge opened. The ceremony itself was quickly got out of the way in the doorstep of the roofless church, while the bride’s mother nursed the baby. The crowd in Piazza Stella was oddly muted as the couple began their procession to the bridge.

They crossed in an ominous hush, and Becket looked over his shoulder at the silent, menacing crowd following them. He was relieved to pass under the guard of honour formed by his fellow captains and enter Piazza Luna, where he led his shy bride up the steps of the Palazzo del Popolo and turned to let the crowd admire them – except there was no crowd. When the guard of honour broke up, they discovered the train of followers was still occupying the bridge, and showed no sign of moving.

The father of the bride looked on in horror as his public triumph became another public disgrace. ‘Bombelli, what does this mean?’

Piers Becket, equally embarrassed, asked the same question of his commander but, like Fabbro, Levi confessed ignorance. ‘I’m going to find out though,’ he said, and grabbed Yuri. They caught up with Fabbro as he reached the bridge. The trio stood between the stone lions facing the rows of weavers and carders carrying the obscure flags of minor Guilds.

‘Who’s in charge here?’ said Fabbro, and to Sophia, ‘and it better not be you.’ Sofia wasn’t carrying the Art Bandiera flag – that would have been too provocative. She said nothing as the line behind her parted.

‘I am.’

‘Pedro!’ Fabbro sighed. ‘I’m not surprised to see Scaligeri here, but
you
understand what the Signoria means.’

Sofia said, ‘A law needing coercion to be enacted is a bad law.’

Fabbro ignored her. ‘Pedro, is this necessary? It’s supposed to be a
happy
day. Why spoil the couple’s celebration?’

Pedro was unmoved. ‘We’re supposed to celebrate the condottieri and major Guilds climbing into bed together? If the minor Guilds can’t be heard in the Signoria, they’re going to be heard here. I’m not here as an engineer. I’m here as a citizen.’

‘The point of this marriage was to prevent strife,’ Levi interjected. ‘Tell him, Sofia.’

‘I went along with it until I saw its real purpose. The Mercanzia wouldn’t have dared propose the salt tax without arms behind them. Yes, that’s right, Bombelli; I know about your little parties.’

Fabbro looked away from his godson in disgust and settled on Sofia, ‘I seem to recall you took part in a vote, Scaligeri. If this is how you act when a decision doesn’t go your way, why
not burn down the Signoria and be done with it? These citizens are subject to the Signoria. We don’t rule by their consent; we rule by right. By taking part in this unseemly protest you undermine the law. Sedition’s a strong word, but I’m struggling to find a better.’

Pedro said, ‘A Signoria that rules by compulsion is no different than the old one.’

‘So those bandieratori sitting on their flags over the river, I’m supposed to ignore them? And what happens if I order the Podesta to break up this little party?’

Sofia said, ‘Don’t do it, Bombelli. My bandieratori come from the families that make up the Guilds on this bridge. I won’t stop them defending their families.’

‘What a privileged existence you live, Contessa. You take part in referenda but don’t abide by results you dislike. You goad these tower-renting fools to disrupt business, and if I attempt to remove them, you threaten to hinder me.’

‘I don’t like your tone, but that’s about the size of it,’ Sofia said.

‘Doctor Bardini schooled you well.’

‘Doc died defending Rasenna’s freedom.’

‘Yes,’ Fabbro sniffed, ‘never mind how he spent the years before that moment—’

‘Bardini paid the ultimate price,’ said Pedro, ‘as did Giovanni, as did my father. That’s why we’re here, Fabbro. Rasenna can’t be ruled by a few towers.’

‘How long do you intend to occupy the bridge?’

‘Until the tax is revoked.’

‘Pedro, she’s using you!’

‘My eyes are open. Aren’t the priors using you? They want to create a precedent. We’re here to do likewise.’

Fabbro pulled Levi back a few steps. ‘Can you break this up?’

Levi shook his head. ‘Only if you want a riot. You can’t win,
not that way. Sofia says the bandieratori will stay clear as long as we do. I say let them cool off for the rest of the evening. They’ll get bored – and
if
they start anything, we’ll be in the right.’

‘We’re in the right now!’ Fabbro hissed. He swore and looked back at the other magnates, waiting expectantly at the palazzo’s steps. When he turned back to the bridge he was smiling widely. ‘Well, I’m not going to let a good feast go to waste because of a few spoilsports. Unfortunately, things cost in life. Stay here and brood if it makes you feel virtuous. Anyone who cares to join us in celebrating this happy day is welcome.’

And with that he walked back to the isolated wedding party and ordered the musicians to strike up. The celebrations that began were an odd affair, with acrobats, jugglers and puppeteers performing under baleful eyes from the bridge. The jaunty airs were ridiculous in an empty piazza. No one danced. The condottieri captains drank with the embarrassed groom, while the twice-humiliated bride, ignored by all, wept quietly to herself.

Donna Bombelli gave her a glass of warmed spice wine, then walked to the bridge with a tray.

Sofia and Pedro watched her approach with embarrassment. Instead of reproach, she tutted mildly as if they were mischievous bambini. ‘Do what you think right. Closing down the market, you’ve hit on the one tactic that might change Fabbro’s mind.’

‘Because it hits his purse.’

‘No, Sofia, because the market brings peace. My husband cares about peace more than anyone.’

‘Because he hasn’t figured out how to get rich from rioting.’

‘Girl, you’re just like him: stubborn. Well, take a drink. It’ll warm you up.’ Donna Bombelli was passing out drinks when suddenly the glass was smacked from her hand.

‘Keep your charity! You and your husband act like royalty – you’re nothing but thieves.’

‘Donna Soderini! I— I’ve been nothing but a friend to you—’

The glowering woman stamped on the broken glass. ‘Where were you when we were thrown out in the street? We’re sharing a single floor now with two families in a crooked old tower in Tartarus. And you’re going to make us pay extra for our
salt?
My
friend
Donna Bombelli’ – she spat at her feet. ‘You’ve had a good life – all your sons, your fancy daughter, your money.’ She made horns with her hands and waved them at Donna Bombelli’s belly. ‘Whatever
that
is, I hope it brings your husband
grief
. He should eat the unsalted bread the rest of us choke on.’

Donna Bombelli put her hands protectively over her belly as Pedro stepped in front of the angry woman.

‘This is nothing to do with Donna Bombelli.’

‘You’re Vanzetti’s boy! How can you of all people defend them? Your father came to grief while Fabbro Bombelli got rich.’

Donna Soderini’s embarrassed husband pulled her away before she could say more. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Maestro Vanzetti, we’re thankful for your help.’

Pedro flushed, embarrassed at the accusation, but also vexed at the disrespect shown to the woman who had been a mother to him after his father’s death. ‘Sofia, can you escort Donna Bombelli home?’

Sofia felt the mood getting ugly. She took the midwife’s hand. As they crossed the bridge, the crowd parted for her, but treated Fabbro’s wife to evil looks and whispered insults. Donna Bombelli was more shaken by Donna Soderini’s spite. ‘I never knew she felt that way.’

‘Her husband drinks. She’s looking for someone to blame.’

Piazza Stella, packed with bandieratori, was scarcely less hostile. Although they all now carried the same red banner, each borgata kept separate; only the disciplined example of the
Borgata Scaligeri kept the others from flooding onto the bridge.