you can plainly see, begins with the eldest daughter of Isabelle and Frederick: Alberta.
“As the line moves down through the centuries, and more families join the tree, one’s lineage becomes more complex. Family trees, however, diminish complexity. They simplify our origins, smoothing them out so that we can trace our heritage through one bloodline to a single—usually desirable—ancestor. In the process, we discard the less desirable ancestors—the criminals, the bastards, the deformed. The maternal lines are usually forgotten as well, as the mother’s name disappears in marriage. Only the most noble maternal lines—those with royal blood, usually—were celebrated.”
I looked at my family tree, following the lineage of Frederick and Isabelle’s children. Alberta Montebianco had a robust line of descendants. The others were truncated, not even half the size of mine.
“There are no living descendants from the other three offspring of Isabelle and Frederick,” Basil said, following my gaze. “Those bloodlines died out by the eighteenth century. The heartiest branch, aside from your ancestral line, grew from Frederick and Isabelle’s eldest son, Aimone Montebianco. His lineage produced heirs until eighteen sixty-seven, when all were killed in an epidemic of some sort. Leaving only the descendants of Frederick and Isabelle’s second child, Alberta.”
Looking over the family tree, I saw that the links between my ancestors were embellished with leaves and fruit—pears and apples and cherries—to display the fecundity of these connections. Most of the couplings were distinguished with a coat of arms, the Montebianco coat of arms being most prevalent, but there were many others, too.
“Those,” Basil said, noticing my interest in the family coats of arms, “are from most of the noble families of Europe, many of which are now long gone. The Montebiancos married into these families as often as possible to solidify their position and influence.” He pointed the cane at a coat of arms. “Once very powerful families have now gone the way of the dinosaurs. Just as the Montebiancos would have, if they hadn’t found you.”
“What happened here?” I asked, looking at a branch that had abruptly ended.
Basil looked at the union, squinting to read the names: Charlotte of Normandy and Lars of Denmark. “I imagine they had no children,” he said. “Or, wait, what was the date of their union? Eighteen fifty-six? There was a tragedy about that time, I believe. We have a news clipping of it somewhere. I cataloged it myself. Yes, yes, it was this couple. They died on their honeymoon, as a matter of fact. A fire in a hotel in Monte Carlo. But they weren’t the only ones to meet a tragic end. The Montebianco family is full of stories of insanity, murder, even infanticide.”
“Infanticide?” I said.
“Children born with severe physical or mental defects were often abandoned. Now we would recognize these defects by their medical names—Down’s or Prader-Willi or Marfan syndromes. We understand these disorders and can treat them. But then they were believed to be a curse. Sometimes these infants died on their own. Sometimes their families helped them along.”
“I saw the tablet in the mausoleum,” I said. “The one listing the babies who died before baptism.”
“The number of stillbirths, miscarriages, and so on was very high due to interbreeding—first cousins marrying and the like,” Basil said.
“You would think they would just stop marrying close relatives,” I said.
“That is easy to say now,” Basil said. “In the twenty-first century, marrying your cousin is a misguided practice to be sure. But remember, they knew nothing about the hazards of inbreeding back then. Families made choices in order to consolidate power, but also based on pure superstition and fear—they were afraid what might turn up if they married outside the family. This was especially true in royal families—look at Charles II of Spain, a product of Hapsburg inbreeding. His tongue was so large he couldn’t speak and his jaw so deformed he had difficulty eating. Queen Victoria’s husband, Albert, was her first cousin, and their children were encouraged to marry within the family as well. There was real anxiety about maintaining superior blood, when, in reality, all that intermarrying made for some monstrous human beings. It’s no wonder, I say, that the Montebianco family has had so many problems.”
“And what were they, exactly?” I asked. “All these problems?”
Basil froze up, his expression turning hesitant. “I am not at liberty to discuss them at length,” he said quietly. “But I can tell you that the Montebianco story is quite complicated. I have found that there is much obfuscation, if not downright erasure,