City of Swords (21 page)

She made it sound as if her husband would be standing shoulder to shoulder with Alfonso, handing him his sword and pistol when he needed them.

‘What about the Duke’s brother?’ asked Enrico, walking up and down with the baby, who was now falling asleep on his shoulder. ‘Man of the cloth, isn’t he?’

The woman pulled a sour face. ‘Cardinal Rinaldo,’ she said. ‘Not a patch on his brother. But he spends hardly any time at home in the city now. He’s supposed to be chaplain to this army – can you believe?’

Yes, Enrico could believe it and determined to find out where his old master and enemy was lodged in this vast company. He handed the sleeping baby back to its mother and wandered off through the camp.

^*

When Ludo got Laura’s note, he stuffed it in his jerkin to read later. He could not be distracted by thoughts of Laura now; he had to appear on top of the military situation, even though he had a sinking feeling that he had taken on a task that was beyond him.

A soldier came up from the main gate to tell him the latest news. ‘There is an envoy wanting to speak with you, signor,’ he said. ‘He comes under a white banner and says the di Chimici force want to parley.’

Ludo should have been prepared for this. A real military leader would have known what to expect. Hastily he conferred with his General and then agreed to meet the di Chimici representative. Ludo had a feeling this should be done somewhere grand, with all the appearance of a proper setting for the future Prince of Fortezza, but he didn’t have any such quarters on the walls.

So Gaetano di Chimici was shown into the guardroom in one of the towers by the gate, with Ludo, General Ciampi and a small guard of Ludo’s men.

Gaetano looked round approvingly. He liked the fact that Ludo was seeing both of them as soldiers not princes. The wine set before him was not as good as the di Chimici army had to drink and Gaetano approved of that too. Ludo’s claim was based not on a desire for the luxuries of a princely life but a belief in his own right to the throne of Fortezza.

The two men got down to business.

‘What shall I call you?’ asked Gaetano. ‘I cannot say “Prince” or “Your Highness”, because of course my family is here in force to dispute your claim. But I would like to maintain the courtesies.’

‘My friends call me Ludo.’

Gaetano smiled ruefully. ‘I know I said we should be courteous, but we’re not exactly friends.’

‘We have some friends in common,’ said Ludo.

‘I know. That’s why my brother suggested me for this embassy. I’ll call you “Signor Ludo”, with your permission.’

Ludo shrugged a ‘be my guest’ gesture.

‘Your Highness,’ he said, ‘now that we have that sorted out, what can you offer me?’

‘Well,’ said Gaetano warily, ‘you see the force we have mustered under your walls? More than ten thousand strong. I’m not asking you to reveal your own numbers, but of course you know them and you can see the odds yourself. There is only one way this siege can end. We can save a great many lives if you agree terms with us.’

‘What terms?’

‘The Grand Duke offers you safe conduct to a city of your choice and no retaliation for your act of sedition here, save for permanent exile from Fortezza, to which you must give up your claim.’

Ludo waited before replying. To gain time he drank more wine.

‘I do not see any advantage to me in this offer,’ he said at last. ‘And I do not accept your analysis of the situation. This is a formidably well-provisioned city, and we can inflict a lot of damage on the di Chimici army from within the security of its walls.’

‘You will not accept any compromise then?’

‘No. And let me tell you that I do not believe in the Grand Duke’s offer, although I accept that you made it in good faith. His safe conduct would not save me from the lone assassin I think would overtake me soon after I left the protection of Fortezza.’

Gaetano felt acutely uncomfortable. He had indeed brought the offer in good faith but after what his brother had said to him before, he didn’t really believe in it himself.

‘I can see you understand my point of view,’ said Ludo.

‘I would guard you myself,’ said Gaetano. ‘Any assassin would have to get past me.’

‘I don’t doubt it. I can make you a similar offer,’ said Ludo. ‘Tell the Grand Duke that I am willing to release the princess to his protection if she gives up her claim to the throne. We may avoid much bloodshed that way.’

‘I will convey your offer,’ said Gaetano evenly, sure that it would be rejected.

Ludo stood and took his adversary’s hand. ‘Please tell your brother, the Grand Duke, that I have staked everything on my claim to the throne of Fortezza. I shall be its Prince or nothing.’

On Saturday morning, Isabel’s parents agreed the girls had done enough revision to take an hour or so off. They went to Café@anytime and met the other Stravaganti. Ayesha would not join them because she had a law exam to revise for.

‘Not till Thursday,’ said Matt. ‘But you know what she’s like.’

‘I’ve got French then too,’ said Laura. ‘But I can’t stuff any more revision in till I’ve had coffee and a bun.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Matt. ‘I’ve got a Maths paper on Thursday but I had to get out for a break.’

‘Tell us about Fortezza,’ said Sky. ‘It will take our minds off the exams.’

He was sitting on a sofa with his arm round Isabel, while the others lounged in comfy chairs.

‘Well,’ said Laura, biting into her Belgian bun, ‘I seem to have become a spy.’

‘That’s sounds like a good Talian task,’ said Georgia. ‘How do you manage it?’

‘By stravagating alternately to Fabio’s and to the castle,’ said Laura. ‘Fabio, Rodolfo and Luciano are going to find out everything they can about what’s going on with the city and pass it on to me. Then I go back to sleep, get to the castle and tell it all to Lucia and Guido.’

‘Sounds exhausting,’ said Nick.

‘It’s OK,’ said Laura. ‘I’m still at Bel’s and I can snatch naps between my revision sessions. Bel covers for me with her mum and dad.’

But what would they say
, she thought,
if they knew about my other plan – the bit where I meet Ludo in secret? That’s the one that’s going to be the most tiring. And the most dangerous
.

Chapter 13

Portrait of a Young Woman

Now that she found herself caught up in one, Laura thought she had better learn a bit about Italian sieges of over four hundred years ago. AS History hadn’t prepared her for this. It was too different from the Cold War or Vietnam. But she did have one distinct advantage: she had been there, or at least the equivalent of ‘there’.

Reading about it online, she was remembering the defences of Fortezza and trying to put an image of the Talian city over the diagrams she found of Pisa and Padua. She covered sheets and sheets of paper with her impressions.

‘Oh,’ said Isabel’s mother, when she brought the girls mugs of tea in the afternoon. ‘I thought you’d finished with History?’

‘Just getting ahead with next year,’ said Laura, hoping that Sarah Evans wasn’t quite so clued up about the syllabus to come.

‘You’re sure you don’t want to do some more French?’ asked Isabel when her mother had left them. She couldn’t get used to this new version of her friend, who didn’t seem to be worrying about the imminent exams at all.

‘I honestly think it will be of more use to know how not to get killed in a siege,’ said Laura, looking at her drawings.

‘But how can you do that?’ asked Isabel. ‘I mean, if you go out into the street, you could get – oh, I don’t know – an arrow in the eye or something.’

‘You’re thinking of the Battle of Hastings,’ said Laura. ‘A cannonball or a big lump of rock from a siege-engine is more likely.’

Isabel looked horrified.

‘But that could get you even in Fabio’s workshop – or the castle!’

‘Lucia is sure they won’t fire on the castle.’

‘OK. Maybe not the castle. But it’s scary to think you aren’t safe even inside a building.’

‘You see why I’m not revising French?’

‘It was different for me,’ said Isabel, remembering. ‘I was only really in danger once the sea battle started, and that was all over in a few hours. I can’t imagine what a siege would be like. Don’t they go on for ages?’

‘They can last for months apparently.’

‘Months! But none of us has ever been in Talia that long – at least, I don’t think so,’ said Isabel.

‘Luciano is supposed to get married in a couple of weeks,’ said Laura. ‘So he must think it will be over before then.’

‘Married!’ said Isabel. ‘I can’t get my head round it. I mean, he’s only a year or so older than us, isn’t he? And here’s me thinking it’s incredibly daring to go to America for the summer to spend time with Sky.’

‘It’s different for them though, isn’t it?’ said Laura. ‘They live in a different world – literally – and all the expectations are different. And they’re these kind of – nobles, who do everything younger.’

‘But it must still be really odd for him. It’s not that long since he was a teenager like us at Barnsbury.’

‘How long would it take to get used to such a different life though?’ asked Laura. ‘It might have been a case of “adapt or die” for him.’

‘As long as the adapting stops you from the dying,’ said Isabel.

‘That’s where we started,’ said Laura. ‘How to stay alive in a siege. It sounds like a textbook I need but don’t have.’

‘You’re right – we’ll just have to write it for you,’ said Isabel firmly. ‘Let’s get everyone on it.’

^*

Mortimer Goldsmith knew all the Barnsbury Stravaganti, though he didn’t know that’s what they were; they all dropped into his shop on the way home from school from time to time. But he didn’t recognise the fair-haired girl who came in that Saturday afternoon. He guessed she was at Barnsbury Comp, because it was rare for a teenager to come in who wasn’t. This one wasn’t a buyer, but a seller.

She had a package under her arm, wrapped in brown paper, and marched confidently up to Mortimer’s desk.

‘Good afternoon, my dear,’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I want to know if this is worth anything,’ she said, without beating round the bush. She unwrapped the package and displayed a framed picture.

Mortimer jumped when he saw it. He took out a magnifying glass and scrutinised the drawing under the glass. Then he straightened up and looked the girl in the eye.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘Alice Greaves,’ she said.

‘This is impossible,’ he said. ‘It’s a picture of Georgia O’Grady but it was made some time in the sixteenth century. Is Georgia your friend?’

‘She used to be,’ Alice said. ‘Not any more. I want to get rid of it.’

‘Can you explain how a Renaissance artist could have drawn a very convincing portrait of a specific twenty-first-century teenager?’

‘Look, do you want to buy it or not?’

Mortimer suddenly wanted the sketch of Georgia very much.