Stravaganza: City Of Secrets Part 29

Chapter 25.

The Moon in Hiding All the men in the Scriptorium had stopped work. The printers were variously engaged in fetching clothes for the half-dead boy who had appeared in their midst, and ale for his rescuers. Constantin ordered enough for all the pressmen, from the youngest beater to the proofreaders and then went into his studio to contact Rodolfo through a hand-mirror.

Luciano was still half-paralysed by the powerful drug he had been given but he was propped up against the wall behind the proofreaders' table, wrapped in Constantin's university gown and soon some colour returned to his face. He was able to sip a little of the ale when it came.

After her initial display of grief, Arianna had given up all pretence of being male and pulled her cap off. Constantin, coming back out of his studio, a.s.sured her that the pressmen were all loyal and would keep her secret.

'Gentlemen,' he said, raising his tankard. 'I give you Her Grace, the d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza, visiting us in disguise.'

The pressmen drank deep and a holiday mood began to spread. It was not often that such interesting incidents enlivened their day in the Scriptorium. And there was still the ma.s.s burning to look forward to at nightfall.

Matt put the ridiculous purple hat on Luciano's head, where it looked very well. He was beginning to feel a little drunk; the adrenalin of the rescue made a heady mix with the strong ale.

'Can you tell us what happened?' he asked.

'I can't remember,' said Luciano, his voice sounding rusty and his throat still very dry. 'I was coming back on Cara and then two men jumped me. I don't think I'd be able to recognise them again. Is Cara all right?'

'Fine,' said Matt. 'She just walked home.'

'Then I was gagged and blindfolded and taken somewhere that smelled of incense.'

'Bishop's palace, I reckon,' said Enrico. 'That just proves it was the Cardinal he's staying there.'

'They took the gag off and made me drink something,' said Luciano, 'and then it's all a blank till I woke up on Professor Angeli's dissecting table.' He shuddered.

'Dissecting table?' said Arianna. She knew nothing about the Anatomy Theatre and wasted no time thinking about it. 'How do you feel now?' she asked.

'Lucky to be alive,' said Luciano. He gave her a shaky smile.

'I think they really meant to do it this time,' said Enrico. 'Rinaldo must have employed some professionals.'

'What day is it?' asked Luciano. He could have been missing for an afternoon or a week, for all he knew.

'Thursday,' said Matt.

'Then I must snap out of it,' whispered Luciano, trying to shake the fog out of his head. 'We've got to save the Manoush.'

William Dethridge had been on edge all morning. Repeatedly, he looked at the sky, frowning if any small wisp of cloud appeared. He licked his finger and held it up to the breeze, then returned to his room and repeatedly shook the stones or dealt out the cards.

When Rodolfo got Constantin's message through the hand-mirrors, he called the Doctor down and they left for the Scriptorium, with Dethridge on Cara. Both men were filled with unspoken relief. Ever since Luciano's last capture, which had resulted in such a cataclysmic change to the boy's life, they had both felt under an enormous obligation to keep him safe and well.

So it was inexpressibly cheering to find Luciano, dressed in a rather random collection of clothes, sitting cross-legged on the proofreaders' table. And to see Arianna sitting next to him, in her boy's disguise but without a hat, her legs dangling over the edge of the table.

There was a definite air of celebration in the Scriptorium, with the pressmen standing around drinking ale and toasting the recovered youth, who had been brought in looking like a corpse and come back to life under their eyes. They were also intrigued by the disguised d.u.c.h.essa and a bit overawed, but not as much as they would have been if they had seen her dressed as the ruler of her city.

'Thank the G.o.ddess you are all right!' said Rodolfo. 'Was it the di Chimici again?'

'Rinaldo,' said Luciano. 'At least, so Enrico and Matt tell me.'

And then his rescuers had to tell the story again. It was gradually dawning on Arianna how close the anatomy professor had come to killing Luciano. The drug he had been given had suppressed all his physical functions, reducing even his breathing to such a shallow level that the short-sighted Angeli would certainly have plunged his scalpel into Luciano's chest if Matt hadn't come in at that point and raised the alarm.

'The only question now,' said Luciano. 'Is how long it takes for the drug to wear off. I still don't think I can walk yet.'

'I have your horse,' said Rodolfo. 'We will get you home and then you must go to bed and sleep.'

'I feel as if I have been asleep for centuries,' said Luciano. 'What I want now is to be up and doing.'

'Bot ye will be fitte for noughte until ye have slepte naturally and lette the poyson dissolve oute of your veines,' said Dethridge.

'You must rest,' said Rodolfo. 'You will not be present in the Piazza dei Fiori tonight unless you are fully recovered.'

Matt realised that the pressmen thought he meant that Luciano might miss the spectacle. He recoiled from their bloodthirstiness and was more determined than ever that the Stravaganti would succeed in rescuing the Manoush from the flames.

'Time to get back to work,' said Constantin and the pressmen put down their tankards and returned to their beating and pulling, their compositing and proofreading.

Rodolfo and Matt took Luciano's weight between them and half dragged, half carried him out to where Cara was tethered, and hauled him on to her back. Although he had no strength in his legs, Luciano managed to stay upright while the others walked beside him back to the house.

But when they got there, he made no further protest about going to bed. Arianna went up to sit with him but he was asleep within minutes and she came down to join the other conspirators.

Antonio was not looking forward to the ma.s.s burning. He was a humane man but not a very imaginative one; he saw things in black and white. He had adopted the di Chimici's anti-magic laws, they had been posted clearly in every square and public meeting-place of the city, the Manoush had disobeyed them and were thus subject to the most extreme penalty of the law. It was that simple. Why, the travelling people had not even claimed to be innocent; they had put up no defence at all!

Something deep in Antonio's mind respected them for that. He abhorred their religion, with its pagan devotion to the moon G.o.ddess and her solar consort. But he was impressed by the manner in which they stuck by it. In some way, they had as great a sense of their duty as he had of his; the difference being, of course, that they were wrong.

His willingness to persecute the wrongdoers in the matter of religion versus superst.i.tion had received a severe blow from the bitter denunciations of his wife. Now that her worst predictions had come to pa.s.s, Giunta was now threatening to leave him, to take their young daughters and move back to Romula, where she came from. It was another city-state independent of the di Chimici and had not adopted the laws as Antonio had been persuaded to introduce. There, she said, she could practise the G.o.ddess religion, without fear of persecution.

But he would be disgraced and his children brought up as heathens! And nothing would be worse than being without the wife he loved. Yet he knew she would be safer in a city that was more tolerant of her religion. His mind was in turmoil.

Antonio could not wait for the execution of the Manoush to be over. Even the young d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza had written to ask him to reprieve them. There were moments when he felt completely alone, with nothing to support him but his own convictions. And yet he knew he was not a monster.

As the evening drew in, the Manoush became very quiet. They had been defeated in their attempts to celebrate their festival of the New Year and as far as they were concerned, were still accompanied by the ghosts of their dead. These spirits had been summoned but not allowed to return to the world beyond death because of the breaking off of the rituals.

In a way, this was a comfort to the Manoush. The spirits of their dead would accompany them on their painful last journey; in fact they had come to see their own impending death as a necessary sacrifice to compensate for the interruption in their ceremonies.

Only Ludo did not share in this view. He shrank from the spirits, who might have included his mother, who had died only a few months ago; he was not ready to join her in the afterlife. Ludo was terrified of the coming ordeal. But he would not show it. The children did not yet understand what was going to happen to them and he was determined that their terror should not begin any earlier than it had to because of his cowardice.

These three days in the prison had taught him a lot about himself and some of it was that he was not as Manoush as he wished to be. More than ever he wanted to be like his people, steadfast for the G.o.ddess and reconciled to their fate. Ludo just couldn't accept that his life was about to end, without his ever having known about the other half of himself, the half that had n.o.ble blood in his veins.

He dared not hope that Matt's plan would work. The most he allowed himself to wish for was that he would not be shamed in his death, would not scream and beg for mercy but allow himself to be martyred in as dignified a manner as was possible. For this he prayed fervently to the G.o.ddess or any other deity that would listen.

People had been gathering in the Piazza dei Fiori since mid-afternoon. Ordinary citizens, making sure they had a good position from which to see the burnings. There were food-sellers wandering amid the crowd with trays of frittata slices and fried seafood dipped in batter. The inns near the piazza were doing a good trade in mugs of ale and tankards of spiced wine.

At one end of the piazza a rough platform had been built on which the Governor would stand and read out the indictment of the criminals before sitting to watch their death. To either side of him would sit the Bishop of Padavia and Cardinal di Chimici as upholders of the true faith of the Church of Talia.

As the time grew nearer, young men in university gowns joined the mob. Some were medical students, interested to see the effect of fire on a living body. But most were just curious to be at an execution. There had not been a burning in Padavia for several years and now there were so many condemned.

Minstrels wandered through the square playing lutes and recorders and a few jugglers caught small coins when they had demonstrated their skills.

Half an hour before the execution was due to start, a more sober group of people entered the piazza. Rodolfo in his accustomed black had not sought to change his appearance but his daughter was still in her boy's disguise, with Marco close beside her. William Dethridge and Professor Constantin were with them. Not far behind came Matt and Cesare, still half supporting Luciano between them.

He had insisted on coming, even though his legs still felt like overcooked pasta. Enrico was there too, surprisingly matey with Biagio from the Scriptorium. Every single member of the group was equipped with a sharp Merlino-blade; all except Luciano, Enrico, Arianna and Marco were strangers to the weapon. But they didn't have to get into a dagger fight. If William Dethridge was right, all they would have to do was cut the prisoners' bonds at the right time.

A roar from the crowd greeted the Manoush as they were at last led out into the square. The children had picked up something of the atmosphere and began to cry as they were bound to the stakes along with their parents and friends. Ludo looked straight ahead, unable to focus on the mob and see from what quarter help might come. He did not register the ten rescuers, five of them Stravaganti.

And yet there was a fine view for all who had come to see the burning. It was the night of full moon and the square was illuminated as much by her round white face as by the cressets and braziers burning at each corner.

When every single prisoner had been tied to one of the stakes, Messer Antonio mounted the platform with the two churchmen. Nervously he scanned the crowd to see if Giunta were there. He very much did not want her to be.

A herald stood on the platform and blew three long notes on his trumpet. Antonio stepped forward and read from a parchment the list of names.

'All of the prisoners so named have admitted to taking part in a ceremony of pagan wors.h.i.+p of the Old Religion,' he said.

A low chanting began among the prisoners. The women started it and the men took it up, even the children joining in as Antonio struggled to complete his indictment.

'They have all been tried before the court of this city and condemned to death by burning,' he continued.

The chanting grew louder.

'And so it is my unpleasant duty to instruct the guards to set the flames to the pyres. Unless there is anything that any of the Manoush wish to say. Any recantation of their heathen beliefs?'

Antonio could scarcely be heard above the sound of the G.o.ddess's people chanting now. William Dethridge was looking intently at the sky but had as yet given no signal to his followers.

But another voice rose above the singing.

'The Manoush may have no last words, but I should like to speak for them.'

It was Professor Constantin. Antonio knew him as a learned teacher at the University. And it was true that there was a Padavian tradition of letting the condemned or a representative speak a farewell. The Governor nodded and Constantin climbed the steps to the stage, accompanied by a slight young man who trod cautiously, like an invalid.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the Cardinal. But the Manoush had fallen silent.

'It is my job at the University,' began Constantin. 'To teach the art of Rhetoric. Every year young men come to me to learn the art of persuasion and advocacy through the power of words. And yet today I stand before you as one bereft of the power of speech. What is about to happen here is an affront to the dignity of all human beings both the executed and the executors.

'Have we not come further than this in the centuries since our beloved city was founded by the Remans or in the three hundred and fifty years since our university was inst.i.tuted? You see before you some thirty souls, men, women and children, who are about to be sent to their deaths in the cruellest way possible.

'And what is their crime? To do something that was not against the law a month ago and may not be again in another month.'

Antonio looked as if he was about to protest but Constantin continued.

'They were practising their religion,' he said. 'Oh, I know it is not the same as the religion of most of us here though I suspect there are some others in the city who follow the G.o.ddess but it is just that: their religion. They are believers, just as we all are. They have their ceremonies and their rites all harmless, all representing no threat or offence to any citizen of Padavia.

'This young man here,' he said, 'is one of my students. Recently he delivered a speech on a set subject When is it Right to Kill a Man? He had given the matter a lot of thought. And I'd like to ask him to repeat his conclusions for everyone gathered here. Tell the people, Luciano, what good reasons you listed for when the taking of another human life is right.'

As Luciano stepped forward to speak, the other members of their group began to file un.o.btrusively through the crowd, positioning themselves each as close as possible to one of the as yet unlit bonfires, leaving the two nearest the stage for Luciano and Constantin.

'Thank you, Magister,' said Luciano. 'I began by citing the example of seeing a man about to stab a child. Which of us, I asked would not kill the attacker to save the child? And yet, today you are about to witness the deaths of half a dozen children and will do nothing to stop it.

'To defend the weaker, to save one's comrade, to liberate one's country or one's city from a tyrant. To fight in time of war. To protect one's family or one's home. In extreme cases to save one's own life.

'But I ask you, citizens, whose family or home is threatened by the Manoush? Does their religious celebration harm a single one of us? Do they bring war or tyranny within the city walls? Is any one of them a threat to any one of us? And yet we would have them burn?'

Luciano addressed the crowd but his eyes were fixed firmly on William Dethridge, who gave him a very slight nod and held up one hand with the fingers spread, as if to say 'five minutes more'.

'Today I was nearly killed myself,' Luciano went on. He had the full attention of the crowd. And particularly of the two di Chimici cousins, one on the platform behind him, the other in the piazza. Neither of them was sure whether this was indeed the Cavaliere or the boy Matteo under a glamour, such as the Stravaganti had effected twice before, or so the di Chimici believed.

'Such an experience makes one dwell on the nature of life and death,' said Luciano. 'The body is a fragile thing and yet it contains something even more important the soul.'

There was a sighing in the piazza like a hundred little gusts of wind. It made the flames of the torches flicker on this still night.

'It is a terrible thing to take another life,' said Luciano. 'But even greater than the harm we would do to these bodies bound here before us, is the loss of some thirty souls, doomed to join their fellow-departed without any ceremony. It is enough to anger the dead.'

The sighs were louder now and it seemed to every person in the square that they could see shadowy forms, creatures made of mist and moons.h.i.+ne, congregating around each bonfire.

'And to anger the G.o.ddess that these people wors.h.i.+p,' said Luciano quietly. 'Are we all so sure that our own faith is the only true one? Look at the moon, the embodiment of the Lady they wors.h.i.+p. See, doesn't she look angry? Are those not tears of blood forming on her face?'

There was not a person in the square now except the rescue party, who were not looking at the sky. A redness was creeping over the face of the moon. And a darkness. As they watched the moon's face was being slowly engulfed.

'This is madness!' shouted Rinaldo, jumping to his feet. 'The Professor and his student have spoken for too long. Light the fires!'

The guards looked uncertain. But Messer Antonio, white-faced, gave the signal. The guards approached with torches, reluctant to get near the misty shapes that sighed round each pyre. The Manoush were quite silent, now, even the children, though whether comforted by the shades of their ancestors or terrified by them, no one knew. Ludo's heart was beating so loudly in his ears he did not know that the entire crowd was silent, holding its breath.

Then one guard ran forward and thrust his torch into the brushwood. Flames leapt up as all the others followed suit.

A woman's voice howled from the crowd.

'Shame on you! Can't you see that the moon is grieving for her people? Fetch water!'

At that moment the entire face of the moon was covered and the square plunged in darkness save for the flames. All was confusion. The citizens of Padavia, whether swayed by rhetoric or influenced by the loss of the moon, had changed their minds. Some ran to get buckets of water, others s.n.a.t.c.hed torches from the guards and headed towards the platform, though with what aim it was not clear.

Only the Stravaganti and their followers had a clear plan of action. Constantin helped Luciano off the stage in the dark and they made for the nearest bonfires. Every rescuer had three Manoush to release. Among Matt's was Ludo.

The young Stravagante looked at the red-haired traveller as he pulled him and two women away from the bonfire.

'Quick, follow me,' he said. 'There are horses and carts waiting for you outside the city wall. You will be taken to Bellezza. You will be safe there.'

In the square people were running about aimlessly, terrified by the disappearance of the moon.

'Yt woll laste at leaste an houre,' Dethridge had told the rescuers. 'Plentye of time to gette all the Manoushe out of the citye.'

At the Western Gate, sympathisers were waiting with the bundles the Manoush had left at their houses; Giunta had organised that well. But before Matt and the others had reached the walls, another cry went up.