47
Atilo stood in the silence of the early morning gloom trying not to let his gaze slide beyond the palace balcony to the mist on the lagoon. Today’s mist was so thick he could barely see the monastery at San Giorgio.
“You failed…” The Regent’s voice was icy and his face white with fury. The cold flame of his anger was far more dangerous than his usual red-faced bluster. Prince Alonzo was afraid.
He believed Prince Leopold was alive.
Krieghund healed quickly. Leopold zum Bas Friedland had been an implacable enemy before this. As the German emperor’s envoy to Serenissima he’d been bound, at least in appearances, by diplomatic niceties. Any such restraint would now be gone.
“Do you have an excuse?”
In Atilo’s head were Desdaio’s words.
“If you love me you’ll save him.” How much did Atilo love her? Enough to be cuckolded? Enough to live with the fact that Iacopo spoke the truth, later denied. Desdaio had been seen coming from Tycho’s cellar.
That’s what Atilo was starting to believe.
“Nothing to say?”
“Don’t you my lord me. You have told us that was ready. That it had the necessary skills to…” Prince Alonzo waved his hand dismissively. The Moor knew exactly what was wanted. That was what his wave meant.
“I was wrong, my lord.”
“Yes, you were. Weren’t you?”
That knelt silently at the feet of the throne. Blood glued his braids to his skull. Atilo’s beating of the boy had been brutal, his most brutal yet. The old man couldn’t work out if stupidity, ignorance or courage made the boy return to announce his failure. That was all Tycho said. He’d failed.
Behind the kneeling boy stood Captain Roderigo, looking bleary-eyed and furious. He’d been to Ca’ Friedland and waited to make his report.
“We’ll give him to Black Crucifers for public torture.”
“Alonzo,” said a voice from the doorway. Alexa’s tone was surprisingly mild. Clearly, she realised how close the Regent was to doing something stupid.
“What?” Prince Alonzo demanded.
That Alexa let his rudeness pass said it all. Pointing out the obvious in front of servants to a drunken prince who should have realised it already was a delicate task. “Perhaps that’s not fitting.”
“Why not?”
“He’s young.”
“What’s that got to do…?”
Children were frequently tortured. Sons required to condemn their fathers. Daughters their mothers…
“Ahh,” Alonzo said, stumbling over the answer for himself.
Tycho’s age was an irrelevance. Alexa simply wanted him to pause long enough to think. The torturer would discover every detail of Tycho’s training. He would know about Prince Leopold’s true nature. Who knew the complications that would bring?
“Wine,” the Regent demanded.
The steward’s eyes flicked to Alexa. The little man wouldn’t dare refuse Alonzo but he could have his staff dilute the wine. He’d served the old duke and served him well. He’d have done the same for the new duke, if the young man hadn’t been sitting there watching mist slowly burn off the lagoon.
The duchess nodded. Alonzo tight was easier to handle.
“You said he was ready,” the Regent insisted, grabbing a goblet and emptying it in one gulp. “You said he was up to the task.”
As well Roderigo was loyal. In the old duke’s day Assassini matters were not discussed openly. Then, in Marco III’s day, all decisions were taken by the duke, who was not given to discussion. Except, occasionally, with his duchess. And Atilo only knew that because she’d told him. They’d been in bed at the time. Glancing across, he saw her watching him.
“Well?” Alonzo said. “Are you going to answer?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough. You should pick your people better.”
“The mistake is mine.”
“I’m glad you admit that. We wouldn’t want you wriggling out of your responsibilities. Would we, Alexa? Roderigo, tell us what you found.”
“Blood on the palace’s roof, my lord. Discarded weapons. A broken blade.” He opened his right hand, unfolding a cloth to reveal burns. “Enchanted. It took Dr. Crow to make it safe. A woman’s chamber exists on the third floor.”
“His sister?” Duchess Alexa’s voice was tight.
Atilo hadn’t even known Prince Leopold had a sister. And Alexa’s voice was much too tight for a woman of her subtlety. Now that he thought of it, she seemed less shocked than Alonzo at Tycho’s failure. Though she’d been careful to glare at the boy fiercely.
“I would imagine so, my lady,” Roderigo said.
“What about servants?”
“No sign of servants, my lord.”
“Yes. I checked. The attics were derelict.” Attics were where servants slept. Hot in summer and freezing in winter, they were shared with mice, rats, pigeons and old furniture.
“Leopold zum Bas Friedland and his sister, alone together. That sounds suspicious to me.” Prince Alonzo’s eyes gleamed at the thought. When he waved his goblet a woman hurried forward. His gaze as he watched her pour was hungry. “Describe the state of her chamber.”
“The bed had been slept in, my lord. The sheets were… in need of laundering.”
“You mean what I think?”
“Possibly, my lord.”
“Then say it clearly,” Prince Alonzo snapped.
“The sheets were stained, my lord. With blood, urine and shit. Either she was murdered there by…”
“Her brother?”
Captain Roderigo winced. “Or Atilo’s apprentice violated her first.”
Prince Alonzo looked at Tycho with new interest. His eyes glancing at Atilo’s impassive face. “Roderigo. Do you believe they’re dead?”
The captain shrugged. A mistake.
“The mattress was drenched with blood,” he said hastily. “There were also splatters of blood on the roof, and signs of a struggle and the broken sword… But no bodies anywhere. They could have been removed.” They could also be alive. The more he drank, the easier the Regent was to read, and Roderigo knew his master was scared, and furious.
“Death,” Alonzo said. “That’s my verdict.” When Duchess Alexa opened her mouth, he snapped, “You disagree?”
“This needs discussion.”
“No, it doesn’t… Let the Black Master extract every last secret in private. Although I’ve a mind to do it myself.” For a second it looked as if the Regent was serious. “Go,” he said, glaring at Roderigo. “Take him away.”
“Where, my lord?”
“The Crucifer pit, obviously.”