'Such practices will be punishable by death,' insisted Antonio. He didn't want there to be any misunderstanding between them.

'It will be interesting then, won't it?' said his wife.

'Interesting, my love?'

'Yes, if the lawgiver's wife is found to have an innocent statue of the Lady in their chamber. What would happen to her?'

Antonio was appalled. It had never crossed his mind that Giunta would simply not obey the laws, however much she resented them. If she was going to be so defiant, he had put her in terrible danger.

'Don't be ridiculous,' he said now, fear making his voice harsh. 'You of all people must be seen to obey the law. How would it look if I can't even count on obedience from my own wife?'

'So that is what you care about? Your reputation as a husband?'

Giunta sounded so contemptuous it made Antonio squirm. He tried to take her in his arms but she was as unresponsive as a plank of wood.

'No,' he said tenderly, though anger was taking the place of fear at the situation he had put them both in. 'What I care about is that if you are found out to be a practising G.o.ddess-worshipper, then you will die horribly, by fire! And I could not bear to lose you.'

Giunta softened then and they sat together for a long time until the candles burnt down and they were in the dark.

Then he heard her say in a low voice, 'You haven't understood about the people of the Lady, Antonio. They have a higher law they must obey than that of any earthly city. I fear the consequences of your laws will be terrible and not just for me.'

On Friday, Dethridge gave his third lecture. It was about what Luciano realised were eclipses of the moon, though he started by talking about 'nyghte blacknesse oute of sesoune' and about primitive beliefs that these sudden disappearances of the moon were caused by her being devoured by werewolves. 'Varcolaci' they were called and the red rim at the bottom of the moon was said to be her blood dripping from their mouths.

At the end there was a bit Luciano couldn't fully understand about how to calculate when such an eclipse might come again. When the group of students had finally dispersed, it was late afternoon and Matt emerged from the Scriptorium just as Luciano and Dethridge walked out of the colonnaded courtyard.

'Hey Matt!' called Luciano. 'Come and meet my father.'

Matt felt suddenly shy as the old man turned his piercing blue gaze on him. He was aware of his many smudges and s.m.u.ts and wiped his hand on his breeches to make it clean enough to shake Dethridge's.

'Gretinges, Mattheus,' said Dethridge, and Matt saw straight away what Luciano had meant about his old-fashioned English. 'How do ye fare in Talie, yonge manne?'

'Very well,' said Matt politely. 'I'm sorry I couldn't come to your lectures but I am working in the Scriptorium.'

'Aye, with Professire Constantine. How do ye lyke werking with the presses?'

'Well, I haven't had much chance to work the press,' said Matt. 'The nearest I've got is spreading the ink on the print.'

They walked to where Luciano and Dethridge had tied up their horses. The two beasts were contentedly munching something in their nosebags, which the Stravaganti unhitched and slung on to their pommels.

'Come back with us,' said Luciano.

'I can't stay long,' said Matt. 'You know the sunset rule.'

'I do,' said Luciano. 'Come for a bit. We'll just walk the horses. Or would you like to ride Cara?'

'No thanks,' said Matt, looking at the mare. She was a docile beast but still looked huge when viewed from up close. 'I'll walk.'

It was the first time he'd been to Luciano's lodgings and he looked around with amazement at all the luxurious carpets and hangings, while Dethridge took both horses round to the stables. 'He used to be an ostler, you know,' said Luciano. 'When we found him living in Montemurato.'

Alfredo brought them all red wine and Matt drank deeply. When Dethridge got back from the stables, he quizzed Matt about his life in England and Matt did his best to satisfy him, stumbling a bit over the Elizabethan's language.

When he'd answered all his queries, Matt had some of his own. He'd heard about how all the stravagating had begun, with William Dethridge's accident. And Luciano had told him about how his foster-father had sometimes been discovered by people who thought he was dead when he was only stravagating. He was known as 'Doctor Death' by some.

'Do you mind if I ask you,' said Matt. 'How do you feel about England now? Do you feel like a real Talian? Or do you still feel English?'

Dethridge sighed. 'There is no holpe in thinking about the past,' he said. 'There was to be no going back for mee.' But he was looking at Luciano as he said it.

Chapter 9.

New Allies There was an impromptu concert in front of the cathedral. A group of gaily dressed, dark-skinned people with flutes, recorders, tambourines and fiddles had camped near the great bronze statue of a soldier on a horse. The centre of the city was filled with the alien sound of their music and singing.

Luciano saw them on his way to meet Matt at the Scriptorium and stopped to listen. He knew the look and sound of the Manoush. He scanned the group but there was no sign of Aurelio and Raffaella, the two he knew best.

One member of the group stood out from the rest. He was tall and lighter-skinned with rusty brown hair. Like all the Manoush, he wore it long, below his shoulders and some of it was plaited with coloured ribbons. As if aware of Luciano's gaze on him, the young man looked towards him and the Bellezzan found something in his grey eyes that attracted him.

The Manoush detached himself from the group and, tucking a flute into his belt, walked over to where Luciano stood watching them.

'Greetings,' he said, making a formal bow. 'I am seeking a Bellezzan named Crinamorte, a friend of my cousin Aurelio Vivoide. Can you help me?'

'I am he,' said Luciano, matching the Manoush's formal style.

The Manoush nodded. 'You look like his description.'

Luciano didn't object that Aurelio was blind and had never seen him; Raffaella could have described him to their cousin.

'I am Ludo Vivoide,' said the Manoush, bowing again. 'My people are here for the Day of the Dead.'

His tone was so matter-of-fact that it didn't seem sinister to Luciano but he still didn't know what he meant.

'Is that today?' he asked cautiously.

Ludo threw back his head and laughed, showing perfectly white teeth, the canines very pointed. Luciano was a little surprised he had seen an awful lot of bad teeth since living permanently in Talia but the Manoush's wide smile made him laugh too.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I really still don't know much about your festivals.'

'We are coming to the end of the old year,' said Ludo, serious again. 'We shall spend a week and a day preparing and then have the three-day festival in which we remember those departed from us. I think your Talian Church calls it the Feast of All Souls.'

Something stirred in Luciano's memory from what had happened in Bellezza the year before and light dawned.

'It's like Hallowe'en!' he said.

It was Ludo's turn to look puzzled. Luciano wondered what he'd make of pumpkin lanterns and trick-or-treating. He didn't think he'd like the sharp-toothed Manoush to play a trick on him.

'Don't worry about it,' he said quickly. 'It's . . . just another tradition from another place. Anyway, tell me about Aurelio, and Raffaella. Are they well? Are they coming here?'

'They were excellently well when I last saw them,' said Ludo. 'They were in Romula. I think they will celebrate the Day of the Dead there.'

'So it doesn't matter what city you are in?' asked Luciano, remembering how large numbers of the Manoush had converged on Remora in the middle of August the year before, to celebrate the Day of the G.o.ddess.

'The year closes and opens in the same way wherever we are,' said Ludo simply. 'My cousin wanted me to give you his good wishes and,' he lowered his voice, 'a warning.'

Luciano shivered in the warm autumn sunlight. The Manoush saw more than most people and the blind Aurelio was the most perceptive of all of them.

'Are you free to talk now?' he asked Ludo. 'I was just going to see a friend. Someone that, like me, came to Talia from a long way away.'

He could tell from the sudden light in Ludo's clear grey eyes that he understood him.

'Another like you?' he asked. 'I would be honoured to meet him.'

Fabrizio di Chimici was delighted with the Cardinal's emba.s.sy to Padavia. He hadn't had such a success anywhere else in Talia. The other five independent city-states, Bellezza, Cla.s.se, Montemurato, Romula and Cittanuova, had all refused to introduce the laws against magic. With the six cities that were in di Chimici hands, Antonio's cooperation had ensured that just over half Talia was now vigilant against the kind of enchantments practised by the Stravaganti. And although he could not make Padavia yield Luciano up to Giglia, all the cities of Tuschia were closed to the Bellezzan.

What he felt he needed now was a new ally, a family member he could trust to carry out his wishes unquestioningly, without any sympathy towards the mysterious Brotherhood which so irked him. That ruled out his younger brother Gaetano, who was a friend of the Bellezzan Cavaliere's. Fabrizio loved his brother, but he could not understand why Gaetano refused to hate the young man who had killed their father and he could not trust him with the important business of revenge.

His sister Beatrice was also out of the question. She had been behaving very strangely ever since the weddings and the ma.s.sacre at the Church of the Annunciation. Fabrizio sometimes wondered if she might be contemplating becoming a nun. But he couldn't spare her to a convent yet. He needed her to be a support to Caterina when the next di Chimici heir was born. The Grand d.u.c.h.essa's pregnancy was just beginning to show a tiny swelling under her waist that thrilled him when he placed his hand on it.

Rinaldo was already doing what he could, within the limitations of his role as a senior churchman. There was really only one di Chimici cousin Fabrizio could trust to help him and that was Filippo of Bellona, Francesca's older brother. So he sent for him.

Filippo answered the summons readily. He was twenty-three years old, just a year younger than Fabrizio himself, with no t.i.tle, no power and no wife; in fact with nothing to do but wait for his father, Jacopo the Younger, to die. He was vigorous, restless and ripe for a new purpose to his life.

The two cousins met in the Palazzo Ducale in the little room that had once been Beatrice's parlour, and was now a snug private study for the Grand Duke. It overlooked the River Argento and no one ever came here except by personal invitation.

They began with an exchange of courtesies about their families and Fabrizio told Filippo about Caterina's condition, which was not yet public knowledge. Filippo said that his parents were well and that he would be staying with his sister, Francesca, and her husband, Gaetano, in the old di Chimici palazzo on the Via Larga.

'I have not been there yet,' he said. 'I came straight here to see how I could be of help to you.'

Fabrizio was touched. This was what he wanted: a family member who was loyal and unquestioning. The cousins had all seen a lot of one another in the long childhood holidays they spent at Duke Niccol's summer palace in Santa Fina. Being much of an age, Fabrizio, Carlo and Filippo had always been particularly close and Carlo's murder had left just the two of them.

'My father let the Nucci get away with exile from Giglia,' said Fabrizio. 'I would not have been so lenient.'

'I think Uncle Niccol felt the same,' said Filippo. 'But Uncle Ferdinando overruled him, didn't he? Your father could hardly be seen to disobey the Pope.'

'Well,' sighed Fabrizio, 'the Church must be respected. I believe the Nucci are now living in Cla.s.se.' He curled his lip. 'What's left of them, that is.'

The Nucci, who had killed Carlo and wounded him and Gaetano, had lost two of their sons and had only one left. The parents were living quietly with him and their two daughters in the City of Ships, down the coast from Bellezza. Fabrizio expected no further trouble from Filippo Nucci.

'But there are other enemies we can do something about,' he continued. 'You remember what happened to Falco?'

'It was a tragedy,' said Filippo. As the youngest cousin, Falco, had been a great favourite with them all. First his body had been shattered in the accident with a horse and finally it appeared his mind had been affected and he had drunk poison. He was the only family member in di Chimici history to have taken his own life and he had been only thirteen.

'It was,' said Fabrizio. 'But perhaps not in the way that you think. My father believed that the friends he made in Remora knew something they did not reveal. In particular the one they call Luciano, who is now a Cavaliere of Bellezza.'

'The one who duelled with your father?'

'The same one. He is the follower and friend of Senator Rossi, the Regent of Bellezza. And Father believed that both of them belonged to a secret order of scientists known as the Stravaganti.'

'I have not heard that name,' said Filippo.

'They are a secret order,' said Fabrizio. 'And I am certain they practise black arts of sorcery and enchantment.'

'Is that what made you pa.s.s the laws against magic?'

'My father told me that he saw Falco,' said Fabrizio quietly.

'Saw Falco? When?'

'At his own memorial race in Remora. He appeared on the flying horse. You remember it?'

'I heard about it,' said Filippo. 'I was not at the Stellata in Falco's honour, myself. But my father was and I remember he said that a young rider swooped over the campo on the winged horse. But it couldn't have been Falco. He had been dead a month.'

'Father swore it was an older Falco. It took him a long time to remember what he had seen, but before he died he believed that my little brother was taken to another place by the Stravaganti and cured of his ills. That they left a simulacrum of him here to die.'

'But why would they do such a thing?'

'That is one of the things I would like you to find out, cousin,' said Fabrizio.

When Matt came out of the Scriptorium for his short lunch break, he found Luciano waiting for him with a strange figure. He looked like a hippy from the sixties, with long hair, flowing clothes and Matt thought he also had ribbons in his hair. All that was missing were the flowers and bells. Matt immediately distrusted him. And then he noticed that the stranger was looking at him intently. He was suddenly conscious of his lack of shadow and took a step back under the colonnade.

'Hi, Matt,' said Luciano. 'This is Ludo. He's one of the Manoush.'

That meant nothing to Matt; in his talks with Luciano, Cesare and Dethridge, the word hadn't come up.

Luciano saw he was going to have to do some more explaining. He suggested they should all go to the Refectory, which was open even on a Sat.u.r.day. It was far less busy than during the week and they easily found an empty table. The few students who were in the Refectory looked curiously at the Manoush, who stood out among their black robes like a jester at a funeral.

'There are many here who do not know the Manoush,' said Ludo composedly, looking at Matt.

'Would you like to explain a bit about your people?' said Luciano.

'We are wanderers, without land or city,' said Ludo. 'We follow the old religion and celebrate its festivals wherever we find ourselves in Europa. We are musicians and healers and good with animals.' He shrugged. 'Many people do not like us.'

Luciano suddenly thought of something. 'Are you safe in Padavia? There are new laws in the city against magic.'

'We do not practise magic,' said Ludo.

'But the law covers everything that might be called superst.i.tion or occult practices,' said Luciano. 'And that includes following the old religion.'

'Are you sure?' asked Ludo sharply.