The Exiled Blade (The Assassini) - By Jon Courtenay Grimwood Page 0,22
had better be good,” Alexa said. On her table were maps of the Mediterranean, a jade bowl of water, and what Tycho realised was the duchess’s own notebook. A quill pen stood in an inkpot next to it.
“Did your husband have bastards?”
Alexa slapped him. She had to cross the room to do it.
“Is that a yes?”
“Tell me why you ask.”
“Because the dead nurse in the crypt is Millioni.”
The duchess froze. For a second she might have been ice. Raising both hands, she lifted her veil, and then removed it altogether. “Are you certain?”
“Positive,” Tycho said.
He waited for her next question. After a moment, he realised she was still waiting for him to answer the last one. “The nurse was killed so I would think Leo was dead. I can . . .” Wondering how to word it, he realised Alexa probably already knew. “I can recognise Giulietta’s blood by . . .” He almost said taste and changed it to smell.
“That night. It was the dead woman’s blood you smelt?”
“Yes, my lady.” Tycho nodded.
“And the infant?”
“The right age and colouring.”
“That was enough to fool you?” She sounded disappointed. Tycho hesitated. Was the krieghund scar his secret to tell? Lady Giulietta was convinced her aunt would kill the child if she realised what it represented. That her uncle would do the same. She’d told both it was a splinter wound from the Mamluk battle.
“He has Leo’s scar.”
“Clever,” said Alexa. “You smell the blood and see the scar . . . I should have looked at the child myself.” She sucked her teeth. “My fault for growing soft in my old age. I wouldn’t let Giulietta look either. You realise,” she added, “if Alonzo realises Leo is krieghund he’ll kill him anyway?”
“My lady?”
“I’m not a fool. Prince Frederick’s war pack changed sides to come to your aid on Giudecca. You had my orders to kill him but you let him live. He wanted to see my niece before he left Venice. He especially wanted to see her child. Oh, don’t be jealous . . . She refused.”
“I gave Frederick the wolf sword.”
“I know. But that alone wouldn’t be enough. So afterwards, when you disappeared and my niece was stamping round like a sulky child refusing to eat or sleep and crying in corners, I started to wonder why Frederick withdrew so easily.”
“His war pack was dead.”
“His army still existed. The city was hungry and beginning to starve. You gave him the WolfeSelle, which saved him from outright disgrace when he got home. But to leave so easily. It took me until you returned to work out what I’d missed.”
“You asked Giulietta?”
“I examined Leo. Magic clings to the scar.”
“And you let him live, my lady?”
Alexa shrugged. “We were ready to give the city to Emperor Sigismund if we had to. Better that than let the Byzantines have it. This way Venice remains independent for the moment, and a child of Millioni blood inherits the throne for all that a German emperor pulls the strings. Sigismund has no legitimate son as yet. My hope is he makes Frederick his heir. That would make Leo second in line to the imperial throne . . .”
Tycho could see how that might meet with the duchess’s approval.
12
The night was chill and Lady Giulietta unhappy at being woken. She wanted poppy, and was put out to be given a sharp-tasting draught of nux vomica instead. Tycho understood. At least he understood sweet dreams were more comforting than being woken, wrapped against the cold and bundled downstairs and through a door between the palace and the basilica. “What must I see for myself?”
The lamp Tycho held stank of fish oil, because all the lamps in Venice stank of fish oil, and its light glittered on glass mosaic and bounced off gold leaf. The rood screen exploded into light as they approached. But Giulietta simply glanced at a fretted brass censor high overhead – as she did every time she visited the cathedral – and her fingers tightened a little on his. Tycho was glad. The passive and drugged young woman of recent weeks was not someone he recognised.
“Down here,” he said.
“No . . .” Lady Giulietta pulled away. “Why are you doing this?” The sight of the stairs to the crypt made her turn away.
“Aunt Alexa says you must see for yourself.”
The habit of obedience carried Lady Giulietta down the stone spiral. When she halted at the bottom, Tycho put his hands on her thin shoulders and walked her