purse paying off the tabs of the Hawk’s Company.’
‘If he’s right for my girl, I don’t care if he’s a pauper.’ ‘No, all you covet is his name. How will it look, after so many Small People died to overthrow the Families, when our Gonfaloniere sells his only daughter for a title?’
Fabbro flinched as if from a blow. The question hung unanswered for long enough for the silence to grow ugly. Fabbro stood up slowly. ‘I never knew you were so politically aware. How sad that you don’t share your insights in the Signoria any more.’
‘I’ve been busy. You know that.’ That was all he was going to say, but a reckless spirit goaded him on. ‘The Signoria is the people – that place across the river represents only the magnates.’
‘Pedro, you’re very brilliant, but very immature, with a boy’s shallow understanding in many ways. The Small People weren’t the only ones who sacrificed to overcome the Families – far from it.’
‘Don’t give me that line. Maybe you’ve forgotten what the truth sounds like. I warn you – others won’t be so understanding.’
If there had been any chance that Fabbro might unbend at that moment it disappeared. ‘I’ve been threatened by bandieratori before. They don’t frighten me. Flags can be easily bought.’
‘Towers can easily burn.’
His face hardened. ‘Best leave, boy, before you go from insubordination to treason.’
Wine, as unusual, was served at the meeting of the Mercanzia, but such were the times that Fabbro was forced to open a second crate.
Polo Sorrento was no orator, but anger made him eloquent. ‘War. War. War. I’ve heard of nothing else, ever since the siege, but I’ve yet to see a single drop of blood spilled. You don’t hear them gossiping in the street about the blockade, but it’s costing everyone here. We can’t get wool from Europa, not by land, and now that the Concordians have Ariminumese ships patrolling the Gulf of Avignon on their behalf, not by sea either. Ariminum was our doorway to the east and now it’s shut. Costs are rising. We must lower wages or raise taxes but we know how the Small People will react. We’re in it together, as long as times are good, as long as they get everything at yesterday’s price, as long as we deficiente make up the difference.’ He held his hands out like a beggar. ‘I’m just a simple farmer so someone explain it to me: we’re being impoverished by a war that hasn’t started, that we can’t win, that we don’t want. War brings ruin, they say. Well, this peace is ruining me, and the entire wool guild besides. We need a real peace or a real war. This counterfeit is worse than either.’
When the rumble of agreement subsided, Fabbro turned to his prospective son-in-law. ‘What do you say, Lord Geta?’
‘I know you are suffering, but bad as it is you’ll remember this peace fondly when war does come,’ Geta said. ‘I hate to say it but your Chief Engineer and Podesta are right about one thing – you can’t avoid war, and like it or not, it’s a war you cannot possibly win. The arithmetic doesn’t require a Guild Hall education: you’ve too few men. You defeated a legion, by the Madonna’s grace. Concord never expected Rasenna to have competent engineers, but a surprise only works once. Can you defeat two legions? Three? Five? If you seek honourable deaths, stay the course, my friends.’ Geta paused and the sound of wine being gulped was like a chorus of frogs.
‘But, if you would not be martyrs, there is an alternative.’
‘Please, Lord Geta,’ the farmer said irritably, ‘we wish to live, obviously. I have a new grandson to care for, and my colleagues have similar dependants. What must we do?’
‘Understand your enemy. Engineers are not passionate men. Revenge means nothing to them. If they can retake Rasenna without a fight, they will. Think back. Was Concord’s yoke so onerous? Times were bad, but was that because of the Tribute or the Families? I know the engineers; they know me. I can negotiate a just, lasting peace. I can ensure that there is no garrison, which would only become a flashpoint anyway. But I cannot do it without your support.’
The brewer stood and declared formally, ‘I move to elect Lord Geta Podesta.’
‘Sit down, idiota,’ Fabbro said testily. ‘This isn’t the Signoria.’
Pedro and Uggeri – who had Sofia’s seat – sat in isolation with Yuri on the other side of the chamber. ‘Maybe