Stravaganza: City Of Stars Part 10

They might not have been so confident if they had known that Riccardo and Emilio were both telling the Air and Earth Twelfths that the Ram had a secret. They had just got it from Enrico, the spy who was working in the stable of the Twins, but who shared his information equally between the Pope's and the Duke's men. He didn't know yet exactly what the secret was but he knew the answer was in Santa Fina and he was sure to find it out soon.

The Water Twelfths hadn't got wind of it yet but it was only a matter of time before they did. Someone in the Twins or the Lady, because of their opposition to Bellezza, would leak the information to one of the three Twelfths of the Water signs, preferably the Fishes. So this year's race was going to be especially hard for the Ram, with three-quarters of the city plotting against them for one reason or another.

Cesare, who was waiting to be confirmed as this year's rider for the Ram, was blissfully unaware of the approaching dangers. He was so stunned by Falco's announcement that he had no thought for his own future.

Luciano was wrestling with his own emotions. He knew that Falco didn't understand what he was saying, that he had no idea about the dangers of stravagation. Even if the doctors of Luciano's old world could cure him, it couldn't be done on one visit; there was no way that Falco's plan would work unless he gave up his life in Talia, voluntarily. And of all the young people in the carriage, only Luciano knew what that would mean.

Everyone was looking at Luciano, to see what he would say. He cast a quick glance at Georgia; perhaps she would understand better than the others, but she was still a novice at stravagation.

But it was Falco who spoke. He turned to his brother and said, 'Gaetano, there is only one way to do this. It will be very hard, harder than death, but it is my choice. I shall go to the world of the future and make my life there.'

His older brother clasped him in his arms and the others saw that there were tears in his eyes. 'No,' he said. 'I won't let you. You can't leave us. What would you do without the family? Without me?'

Falco's voice was m.u.f.fled by his brother's embrace. 'I should rather live my whole life elsewhere, even if it has to be without you, my brother,' he said, 'than live out my days as half the man I was meant to be.'

Then he turned back to Luciano and Georgia.

'I have chosen,' he said. 'Now, what must I do?'

Chapter 11.

The Sound of Drums For Georgia most of Monday pa.s.sed in a dream. She had reached a point where her ordinary daily life was beginning to seem unreal and her mind was always in Remora, with its divisions and intrigues. It didn't help that she was very short of sleep, even though she hadn't spent the whole of Sunday night in the city.

After Falco's announcement in the carriage, and Gaetano's continued opposition to the plan, Luciano had bought them all some time by saying that they needed to think more about it. Georgia had been relieved because she felt completely out of her depth and the atmosphere had become very tense. The carriage had stopped and let them out in a place called Belle Vigne. It was a gra.s.sy hill with a little village at the foot. At the top, according to Gaetano, was the remains of a Ra.s.senan settlement. Georgia worked out eventually that this must mean 'Etruscan' and would have loved to see it but even the gentle slope up to it was too steep for Falco.

The young people had sprawled on the gra.s.s, talking of lighter matters.

'What is it like in Bellezza?' Gaetano asked Luciano. 'I have to go there soon to fetch the young d.u.c.h.essa.'

'It's the most beautiful city in the world,' Luciano said simply.

'Ah, but you haven't been to Giglia, has he, brother?' said Gaetano.

Falco nodded and Cesare added, 'What about my city? There is nowhere like Remora, surely?'

'We must all love our own cities best,' said Luciano diplomatically, and Georgia tried to imagine feeling that way about London.

'Bellezza is made of silver and it floats on the water,' continued Luciano. 'Little waterways criss-cross the city it's really a collection of over a hundred little islands. And the people enjoy living there they have a party at any excuse. They love their d.u.c.h.essa too. They were devastated when the last one died.'

He stopped. This was a sensitive subject to get on to with two di Chimici.

'What is the new d.u.c.h.essa like?' asked Falco, and Georgia glimpsed Gaetano putting a finger to his lips.

'She's very young,' said Luciano, who hadn't seen the gesture. 'Still a girl the same age as me. But she is becoming more like her mother every day. And she is very proud of her city.'

'Is she as beautiful as her mother was supposed to be?' asked Gaetano casually, and Georgia p.r.i.c.ked up her ears.

But Luciano simply said, 'Yes,' and did not elaborate.

Soon after that, Gaetano had noticed that his brother was looking tired and they had all come back to Remora. Not much was said on the journey back, but when the three had been dropped at the stables of the Ram, Falco said, 'Don't forget what I told you. Will you come and see me tomorrow?'

And it hadn't been possible to refuse.

Paolo was out at his Horsemasters' meeting and Cesare had ch.o.r.es to do. It would have been a perfect opportunity for Georgia to spend time on her own with Luciano. She wanted to talk to him about his story, to find out what part his talisman had played in what happened, but he had looked at her closely and told her that she must stravagate early and not stay in Remora for the rest of the afternoon.

'I can remember what it was like,' he said, with a smile that turned her heart over. 'I know you say you are well, but even the healthiest person needs their sleep.'

And so she had come back, briefly awake in the middle of the night, listening to the small sounds of the sleeping house, before dropping into a deep dreamless state.

She was woken all too soon by her mother urging her to get ready for school. The rest of the day was a bit of a wash-out. Georgia couldn't concentrate on her lessons. Even in English, which had always been her best subject, she couldn't answer the simplest question.

Fortunately, the new girl Alice covered for her. The two girls had lunch together and Georgia discovered to her delight that Alice was also keen on horses had one of her own, in fact, at her father's house in Devon. By the end of the day, they were firm friends. Georgia wished she could tell Alice about Remora but it was a comfort just to talk to her about horses.

Even though Monday was Russell's football day, Georgia didn't go straight home. She decided to call on Mr Goldsmith again. He was pleased to see her and made her a much nicer cup of tea than the last one. Georgia had eaten four chocolate biscuits before she realised it.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I didn't get much sleep last night and I'm always ravenous when I'm tired.'

'I thought you were looking a bit peaky,' said Mr Goldsmith. 'I don't mean to pry, but is everything all right?'

Georgia remembered thinking that Mr Goldsmith was her ally and she decided to talk to him about Russell. But she was a bit oblique about it.

'Do you have any enemies?' she asked.

'What a strange question,' he said. 'No, not enemies as such. I would say I had rivals though. You know, the sort of people who bid against me at auctions other dealers. It's a friendly sort of rivalry we are quite sociable when we meet.'

That was the difference, Georgia decided, between Talia and here. The Twelfths of Remora were more like rivals even though they talked about adversaries. On the other hand, Niccol di Chimici did seem to be an enemy of the people she thought of as being on her side. And of the Stravaganti. But what about Gaetano and his brother? They were more like friends. Certainly more so than her supposed-to-be stepbrother. She heaved a big sigh.

'Oh dear!' said Mr Goldsmith. 'You'd better have another biscuit.'

That made Georgia smile. 'I don't have many friends,' she confided. 'At least not here.'

'Nor do I,' said Mr Goldsmith. 'But you don't need many friends, you know, as long as the ones you have are good ones.'

Georgia decided to take him into her confidence a bit more.

'Do you know an Italian city where they have a special horse race every year?' she asked.

Rather to her surprise, he did.

'You mean Siena?' he asked. 'They have a race called the Palio every summer actually twice, I think. That's a place for rivalry if ever there was one.'

'Go on,' said Georgia eagerly. 'Tell me about the Palio.'

'Well, Siena is in Tuscany, not far from where the original of your little horse must have come from. The city is divided up into lots of sections seventeen, I think and they race their horses round a sort of Piazza in the middle of town. It's a tradition going back hundreds of years and the city itself still looks mediaeval. Hardly any cars, narrow streets, virtually no modern buildings, at least not in the centre.'

That's it, thought Georgia. If Lucien's Bellezza is our Venice, Remora must be Siena.

'Have you seen it?' she asked.

'The Palio? No,' said Mr Goldsmith. 'But I've been to Siena, more than once. It's a lovely place. You'd like it too, if you're fond of horses.'

Soon they were chatting away about riding and Georgia told him about Jean's stables. She was in a much more cheerful mood when she left the shop, so that when he said, 'Goodbye and good luck with your enemies,' it took her a moment to remember how the conversation had started. And then, when she was almost home, she remembered that she hadn't actually said she had an enemy herself. She smiled. Mr Goldsmith was definitely a friend.

Diego was pleased to see his new friend Enrico. His duties at the moment were quite boring. Diego was used to spending all day on his feet, preferably out of doors, tending to horses, riding them, sometimes moving them down into the city or out to further pastures. But now he spent most of every day guarding the little miracle. Not her fault, of course. He was as attached to the black filly as anyone. And she was a marvel there was no doubt about that. But he couldn't see why she had to be kept such a secret.

Diego wasn't from Remora; he was Santa Finan born and bred. He'd seen the Stellata a few times as a boy but he didn't concern himself with the politics of the city. He liked longer races, run in a straight line, where you could bet on the outcome and have some chance of winning. He had no time for the Remorans' way of doing things. Making deals and fixing results that just made it too difficult for an ordinary punter to stand a chance of winning.

Enrico agreed. 'They're all mad down there in the city,' he said in a friendly conversational way, making himself comfortable on the bale of hay beside Diego. 'Secretive too,' he added, taking a swift glance at the groom.

'That's the Reman way,' nodded Diego. 'They'd keep their own mothers a secret if they could. In case their rivals benefited from the knowledge.'

'Are they all as bad as one another, do you think?' asked Enrico. 'Or are some worse than others? What about the Ram, for example?'

'Ah, the Ram!' said Diego mysteriously, tapping the side of his nose. 'I could tell you something about them.'

'I wish you would,' said Enrico. 'It would get my master off my back. He's sure they've got something up their sleeve for this year's Stellata.'

Diego hesitated. Then shrugged. The secret filly couldn't have anything to do with the race. Although she was growing faster than any normal foal and would be big enough to ride by then, the Ram's jockey would never be allowed up on a winged horse. So what could it hurt to tell his new friend about her?

'They've got something up their sleeve right enough,' he admitted.

When Georgia next got back to the stables of the Ram, there was no sign of Cesare or Luciano, but Paolo was waiting for her.

'We must talk about why you are here,' he said, leading her into the house. 'And about our brotherhood. How are you finding your way about Remora?'

'Well, thank you,' said Georgia. 'I mean, there's a lot I still don't understand. But Cesare explained it well and I've made a sort of a map at home to remind myself of all the Twelfths. It's a very complicated city, isn't it?'

'Complex, certainly,' said Paolo, 'and not just in the way it's arranged. I'm sure Cesare told you about all the rivalries between Twelfths?'

'Yes,' said Georgia. 'I'm trying to keep all that in mind too.'

'The di Chimici exploit those rivalries, you know,' said Paolo.

They were sitting alone in his homely kitchen. Georgia wondered where all the family were, but Paolo said that Teresa had taken the children to visit her mother in the Lioness. It seemed unnaturally quiet without them and Georgia was too shy to ask about the visitors from Bellezza.

'You said yesterday that it might be time to drop the old enmity,' she said now. 'Do you think it's all right for us to be friends with the di Chimici princes?'

'I think so,' said Paolo. 'I don't think they are trying to exploit you.'

He looked at her intently and she realised that this broad, strong man, with his capable hands and smell of the stables, was probably as astute and clever as Duke Niccol himself.

'I must tell you something,' said Georgia. 'Those two Gaetano and Falco they know about me. And they know about Luciano too. He told them. But only because I'd been stupid and given the game away earlier,' she added loyally.

Paolo looked thoughtful. 'And what do you think they will do with this knowledge?' he asked.

'I'm sure they won't tell their father,' she said immediately. 'They took a solemn oath not to swore by their weapons and made Luciano taste their blood.' She shuddered slightly at the memory.

'Then I'm sure you're right,' said Paolo. 'It remains to be seen what else they will do with the information though.'

Something stopped Georgia from telling him that Falco planned to use it to get to her world. And in days to come she often wondered if it would have been better if she had. But now she felt it was too soon. Nothing had been definitely decided.

But Paolo wanted to talk about something else.

'Things are coming to a head with the di Chimici,' he said. 'They have gained power in all save a few northern cities. Bellezza resists them, as you know, and that is one of the reasons the Duke has invited the young d.u.c.h.essa to the Stellata. We do not know exactly what he means to do and she will be well protected by her friends, but we must all be on our guard. He must be intending to influence what he believes will be an impressionable young woman about the wisdom of joining forces with his family.'

'And she isn't an impressionable young woman?' asked Georgia. This was her chance to find out more about the girl who was her rival, while Luciano wasn't around.

'Hardly,' smiled the Horsemaster. 'I think it unlikely that any daughter of Silvia, d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza for quarter of a century, and Rodolfo, one of the greatest of our brotherhood, would be anything other than stubbornness and guile incarnate.'

'Have you met her?' asked Georgia.

'No, but I know both her parents,' said Paolo. 'And the fruit does not fall far from the tree, as we say in Talia.'

'We say it too,' said Georgia, thinking for the first time of what that expression meant. You don't get apricots from apple trees, she supposed; children were meant to be like their parents. But she didn't feel much like Maura. Maura didn't really like horses for a start. Maybe Georgia had got that from the father she had hardly known. And what about Russell? His father was a nice enough person perhaps Russell's mother had been really awful. But perhaps it had something to do with how he had been treated too.

Georgia felt suddenly confused. Remora, with its rigid divisions and distinctions, was in some ways easier to understand.

'Why do you think I am here?' she asked now.

'I don't know,' said Paolo. 'We never know who will be found by a talisman when we take one to the other world, and we never know what they will be called on to do. Rodolfo thought that Luciano might have been brought to save the d.u.c.h.essa, but he paid a heavy price for it, as I think you know.'

Georgia nodded. 'But I thought he couldn't save the d.u.c.h.essa in the end. The di Chimici killed her anyway, didn't they?'

There was silence, and then Georgia heard a m.u.f.fled throbbing noise from the street.

'What's that?' she asked.

'Some of your questions are easier to answer than others,' said Paolo. 'That sound is the drummers of the Ram rehearsing for the Stellata. You will hear them often now until the race is run. Come, let's go for a walk and you shall see.'

The sound of drums got louder as soon as they were out of the house. Georgia soon recognised the cobbled street leading to the square with the silver fountain. She gasped when they reached it. The Piazza del Fuoco was full of yellow and red twirling banners, bearing the image of a ram crowned with silver. Two strong young men were weaving their banners in intricate patterns in time to the insistent beat of a drummer.

Over the next few weeks the sound of those drums as the players and standard bearers of all the Twelfths rehea.r.s.ed day and night would burrow its way into Georgia's brain, so that she heard it wherever she was, whether in Remora or London, in bed or at school, sleeping or waking. It was the sound of the Stellata. Every Twelfth had its company of young people who were responsible for putting on a splendid show in the procession which would wind round the Campo before the race. The drummers and ensign bearers would lead each company, Paolo explained to Georgia, and it was a great honour to be chosen to be of their number.

'Isn't Cesare one of them?' she asked, thinking that it would explain his absence from the house.

'No,' said Paolo. 'Cesare is our jockey this year, for the first time. But he marched in the parade last year.'

The flags and drums moved out of the square and wound round the narrow lanes of the Twelfth, the sound getting louder and softer as they traced a meandering pattern through the Ram. Young children ran after them, entranced by the noise and colour, but Paolo and Georgia remained sitting on the stone ledge round the fountain.