"And what benefit might a hunted D'Angeline traitor of fer?" Joscelin asked quietly.
I knew he was merely trying to offer the voice of reason; nonetheless, I looked hard at him. "Joscelin, I saw Skaldi in the Great Square the day we arrived. Marco Stregazza is ready to sell his son into wedlock if it will secure him trade with Alba; what price would you set on Skaldia? If Melisande had an agreement with Waldemar Selig, like as not she had other contacts in Skaldia as well. I would not be surprised to learn she could deliver a trade agreement with one or more of the southern tribes."
"Mayhap," he said gently. "And mayhap you are haunted by ghosts of the past."
I could bear anything but compassion from him. It was hard enough, believing I was not wraith-ridden, without Jos celin's quiet censure. I turned to Remy. "You," I said, "I will send to the Little Court, to gain admittance if you may, with a request for audience with Prince Benedicte. He may not entertain it, if gossip has reached him—it had obviously reached the Stregazza—but learn what you may of the Little Court nonetheless."
"Aye, aye, my lady!" Remy grinned, and gave me a crisp salute.
Would that I could have accepted it at face value, but I saw the glances they exchanged when they thought I was looking elsewhere; I knew full well that my chevaliers were of the same opinion as Joscelin. They were merely less open in voicing it, and more willing to go through the motions of a hunt for the sport of the thing.
"One more thing," I said, more sharply than I'd intended, playing my trump card. "This is a matter I did not wish to press with the Stregazza, lest I give our hand away. Find out for me who is the astrologer to the family of the Doge. Whoever he is, he is the conduit. Gonzago de Escabares' friend called upon this man; on the following day, he was visited by Melisande. All of you, inquire as you may. When we find the astrologer, we find the trail."
It did as I intended, giving them a tangible quarry. I wrote out the letter for Remy to carry—shocking Leonora yet again with my perverse literary quirk—and dispersed my chevaliers to their various errands.
"So." Joscelin looked at me. "You have the lay of the land, and a Serenissiman lordling begging for your hand. What shadows will you set me to chasing before you wed him, Phèdre nó Delaunay?"
"I'm not going to wed Severio Stregazza," I said irritably. "I've no mind to wed anyone."
"You let him court you." Joscelin got up from the table and walked to the window overlooking the balcony. "Is it because he can give you what you desire?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"No." I sat gazing at his back, broad-shouldered and graceful, bisected by the cabled length of his wheat-gold braid. Kushiel's gift is cruel; I have never, ever, found any man so beautiful to me as Joscelin Verreuil, and no man has ever caused me such pain. One does not, I suppose, reign over hell without a well-developed sense of irony. There were no living
anguissettes
with whom I could compare notes, but surely, I thought, Kushiel must be pleased with this arrangement. Nothing else could have ground my heart so fine. "Joscelin, it is because that is the game Marco Stregazza and his wife Marie-Celeste de la Courcel Stregazza have decreed, and I see no way out of it but to play along and stall, if I wish to learn anything."
Back to me, he shuddered, but when he spoke, his voice was hard. "And if there is nothing to learn?"
"If there is not, then there is not," I said equitably. "There is another option where this talk of marriage is concerned, and you know it as well as I. If I were to declare you my consort, by D'Angeline law, that is binding. So it was before, and even the Queen acknowledged it. The Stregazza will abide by that without ill-will, they know the ways of Terre d'Ange. It is you who have closed that door, not I.”
"
I
can't!"
This time, the shudder that wracked him was profound. Clenching his fists, Joscelin turned to stare at me, wild-eyed. "To think of you, on your knees to the likes of that, that overgrown
juvenile,
Phèdre, it sickens me! And don't tell me you weren't, because I know you, I know you were. It was all the talk of the City, how for twenty thousand ducats Phèdre nó Delaunay made a man of the grandson of Prince Benedicte and the Doge of La Serenissima!"
I do not anger easily, but somehow, Joscelin Verreuil has ever had the trick of it. I stared back at him coldly, and answered colder. "A pity," I said contemptuously, "I could not do the same for you."
It was enough and more to send him storming out of our rented house, and I sat as coolly as if the broken shards of my heart were not grinding each other to bits and watched him go, knowing, of a surety, where he went. Ten centuries later, the blood of Yeshua ben Yosef was claiming its due.
And he shall carve out the way before you, and his blades
shall shine like a star in his hands.
Joscelin had heard it, and so had I; what were the whims of a single Servant of Naamah against the will of an entire people?
Whatever they believed of him, it was true, I thought; when Joscelin made ready to defend with his daggers bared and crossed, they really did shine like a star in his hands.
"My lady," Leonora said tremulously; she had caught the tail end of our exchange. Though we had spoken in D'Angeline, the sense of it needed no translation. "There is, um, another message from my lord Severio Stregazza."
She proffered his letter on a silver salver; I took it im patiently and cracked the wax seal, scanning the contents. Severio, it seemed, thought I might be amused by touring the Temple of Asherat; indeed, he had taken the liberty of arranging an audience with the Sovereign Priestess at an hour past noon.
Well, as it happened, I did find the notion amusing; more over, I found it intriguing. I have ever been curious about the faith of other peoples, and this was a chance to experience it firsthand; and, too, I was curious about this Oracle.
At any rate, it was better than moping alone in my chambers. Beginning to know my ways, Leonora had brought a pen and inkwell, and I dipped the pen recklessly, scrawling ì hasty reply—although, I must add, only an astute observer would have known my mood and the speed with which I answered.
When the appointed hour arrived, I descended the stairs from my balcony unaccompanied. Severio did not fail to note it, rising to his feet and rocking the craft; a simple gondola today, and not the gilded bissone. Only a few of his Immortali were in attendance. "No Cassiline chaperone?" he cried, spreading his arms. "My lady, your trust heartens me!"
"Be worthy of it, my lord," I said, stepping into the vessel. "I have placed my honor in the keeping of the Immor tali; I pray they will not fail me."
"Not a chance," retorted Benito Dandi, manning the tiller with a sharp eye as we surged into the water traffic of the Great Canal. "In fact, we took a vote, to elect you to the rank of
compagne,
my lady, for holding your ground in a skirmish. Severio may be our prior, but it took two councillos, the secretary and the notary to pass this motion. Now he impugns you at his own expense."
For all of that, Severio looked delighted, and for his sake, I accepted the honor with good will. Joscelin would be upset that I had gone out without a D'Angeline guard, but then, Joscelin was already upset. And I did not think I erred in my estimation of Severio's character. Rude he might be, by our standards, but wise enough to know that what he desired of me could only be given freely. If I was not safe with Severio and his Immortali, I was not safe anywhere in La Serenissima.
A light rain had fallen early that morning, and the Square glistened like a vast mirror. Severio and I went alone into the Temple of Asherat, while his comrades lounged outside, idly baiting the impassive eunuchs who stood guard at the doors. I must confess, Asherat's Temple was a splendid place.
There is not much painting in La Serenissima, but they are skilled at the art of mosaic. The vast antechamber of the Temple was filled with tiled images, exquisitely rendered. A veiled priestess, young and slender, wearing the white robes of an acolyte, assisted us in removing our shoes and washing our hands in the ritual basin. Afterward, we wandered the antechamber and Severio pointed out to me the various images of Asherat. My favorite was an Ephesian image that showed the goddess erect and gracious, holding fronds of date palms in both hands, flanked by an ass and a bull. In La Serenissima, they worship her as Asherat-of-the-Sea and the Dea Coelestis, the Tiberian Queen of Heaven, but she is an ancient goddess and has taken many forms.
"There she is grieving her son Eshmun." Severio pointed to a mosaic that depicted Asherat kneeling over a male fig ure in a field of scarlet flowers. I did not like it so well as the others, in part because the lines lacked the fluidity necessary to make the scene poignant, and in part because it reminded me of La Dolorosa, the black isle. "And there is the Peace of Asherat and Baal-Jupiter, which they made when the people implored them."
"A terrible story." I shivered. "We passed La Dolorosa on our way here."
"The place of no hope." There was an edge to his voice. "That's what the shorefolk call it. Grandfather Benedicte wanted my aunt Thérèse imprisoned there, when it was found she was complicit in the poisoning of Isabel de la Courcel."
"Is she?" Awful as the crime was, I couldn't help but be disturbed.
"No." He shook his head. "The Stregazza rose up in arms at the prospect. That's probably when this whole quarrel began. She's banished to the Villa Conforti, which is an island prison of sorts for disgraced nobility." He grinned. "Actually, I'm told it's quite pleasant. Nonetheless, she's bound not to leave its shores while she lives.”
I thought of Hyacinthe, and could not muster an answer ing smile. Sensing my mood, Severio changed the subject.
"There's a lovely Temple of Eshmun on the Isla Maestus," he said. "Where the anemone blooms crimson in the spring. We'll have to visit; it's good hunting, as well. Look, Phèdre, I brought honey-cakes. Would you like to make an offering?"
His kindness touched me, and I was able to smile. A strange business, this having a suitor! I was accustomed to grand gestures from my patrons, but these homely courtesies were something altogether different. "Yes," I said. "I would."
The great statue of Asherat loomed beneath the high, pointed central dome, and it took only a glance for me to see that she was old, very old. Unlike the benign countenance of the statue on the harbor, this goddess had a wide-eyed stare. Instead of stars, a crescent moon crowned her head. She stood upright, leaping waves about her feet, her open hands touching the waters.
Brackets of candles lit the dome, and two priestesses flanked the stone altar before the goddess, attending to the sacrifice—for sacrifice it was. A commoner stood before the altar, cap in hand, and on the slab in front of him, a bound lamb.
I must have made an involuntary sound, for Severio shushed me. "We'll have to wait a moment," he murmured. "I should have warned you; I forgot, you don't have blood offerings in Terre d'Ange, do you?"
"No." I watched, horrified, as the elder priestess lifted the sacrificial knife; bright-edged and tiny, with a curving blade. The lovely, shimmering veil hid her face, but her motions were serene. I had to look away as she brought down her arm. Even so, I heard the lamb bleat once, a strangled sound.
And silence.
I didn't know I was shaking until Severio put his hands on my shoulders to still me. "Phèdre," he said gently. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake. You needn't stay. Go back to the antechamber, and the acolyte will conduct you outside. I'll meet you in just a moment, I promise. But I cannot cheat Asherat, having brought her offering."
"No," I said stubbornly, watching him blink in surprise. I don't think he knew, before that, how much will I had. I summoned a measure of composure. "I've come too, and one doesn't turn one's back on a goddess. I will go through with it."
"As you wish," he said, bewildered.
Eunuch attendants had removed the lamb's carcass—the Temple would dine on it that night, Severio told me later— but the altar still reeked of fresh blood as we approached and I could see, drawing near, traces of ancient blood blackened in the crevices. I held the honey-cake in my hands, gazing at the statue's face.
Long ago, I knew, Asherat-of-the-Sea had another name, and a consort, too; El, who ruled the sun and skies as she ruled the earth and sea. So said the most ancient of Habiru myths, the ones the Rebbe pretended did not exist. But they quarreled, and divided, and took on different names and faces, as deities have done through the ages. El became the One God, Adonai of the Habiru; he begot a son named Yeshua.
And Yeshua's blood and the tears of his mortal beloved mingled in the womb of the earth, the great Mother God dess, who took their semidivine spark and nurtured to life Blessed Elua. If she wore in La Serenissima the face of Asherat-of-the Sea, 'twas not for me to turn away.
"Gracious Lady of the Sea," I whispered in D'Angeline, my mother tongue. "Pray accept this gift from your many- times-removed daughter, and grant me your blessing." With trembling hands, I broke the honey-cake in half and laid it on the bloody altar.
High above me, the face of the statue was unchanged, but I saw in it now somewhat different, a terrible and impassive mercy. Severio made his offering, murmuring a Caerdicci prayer. The priestesses nodded grave acceptance, and we turned to go.
