Violante stamped her foot, an action making up in force for its lack of effective sound. ‘They cannot think for one moment that your Grace… They cannot think such a thing of you.’
‘They will say I found her with a man.’
‘But if you had, who could say it was wrong to kill her? Others — yes, princes — have done so.’
‘You forget Duke Ippolyto. Is he to accept that his sister had a lover? It attacks his honour; he will demand proof.’
She was silent, swinging the Duke’s hand for a moment, thinking, and then she released it.
‘How will you keep the peace with him, then?’
The Duke went to the window, putting a hand on the shoulder of Tebaldo, who had made an effort to raise his wasted body as the Duke approached. He pointed.
‘There, in a week’s time, someone must die. It may have to be Leandro Bandini. I lose support of the Bandini faction to keep my alliance with Ippolyto.’
‘Can someone not be found, some story made that would convince Duke Ippolyto — that would earn time while you find who is guilty and save the Bandini’s loyalty?’
Paolo put out his hand to draw Violante to him. ‘Niece, you become a statesman; but think, Leandro Bandini may not be innocent. Remember how he made open love to the Duchess at the feast in his guise of Wild Man. He spilt wine on her dress so that she was forced to withdraw. He follows her, forces her and would have escaped if her Grace had not, so bravely, struck him down. Who can swear that he is innocent?’
The Duke spoke from the window. ‘Sigismondo says that he was given drugged wine, brother.’
Paolo gave Sigismondo another thoughtful stare. ‘Who gave it to him?’
‘My lord, he does not know.’
Paolo made an incredulous sound, and smiled. ‘You take his word for it? If he took anything in his wine, and I don’t doubt that to act as he did he must have drunk freely, then he took some aphrodisiac. Forgive me, niece, but young men do such things.’
The Duke watched Sigismondo as if waiting for a response. ‘Might it be so? Are you so sure of the drug?’
Sigismondo’s bow and turn of the hand could have implied anything. The Duke took it to be assent. He strode to the table and, as if reminded, drank off his wine and spoke with fresh energy.
‘Justice will be done. The people shall see it done and we can put this behind us. Look no further, Sigismondo. I release you of your task.’
‘With your Grace’s leave: there may be more yet to uncover.’ The deep voice was respectful, yet it objected, and the Duke was hesitating when Paolo spoke again.
‘There is always more to discover, as there are secrets and things unknown in every family. What his Grace wishes is for peace to return. Render up your authority as his Grace desires.’
Sigismondo took off the ducal ring and brought it to its owner. The Duke slid it onto his finger and extended it to Sigismondo to be kissed.
‘You will be rewarded. We’ll talk later.’ It was dismissal in more ways than one. Sigismondo backed from the presence. The Lady Violante’s gaze followed him with speculation. Lord Paolo’s expression suggested that his brother was over-generous to a man whose services had amounted to the restitution of a tradesman’s gold, and a dead dwarf; unless the addition of a dead slave girl improved the sum.
Benno was vacantly chewing something when Sigismondo found him propped against a pillar outside the Council chamber. Two guards were eying him askance, unused to any but official lack-wits in the Palace. He was pleased to see his master and looked him over with a proprietary air. As they went off through the corridors and passages, he said, ‘Ring’s gone, then, is it? Duke take it back? That means now we can go and look for the Lady Cosima, doesn’t it?’
Chapter Ten
The smell in the tiny out-of-the-way room chosen by Sigismondo when he bore the Duke’s authority could be traced, past Benno, to the dead dove hanging up. Benno showed it off proudly, parting the feathers to check on the state of the flesh beneath.
‘Coming on nicely, but it’ll need a while longer. We’ll take it with us, come in handy. Where’re we going?’ He stuffed the bird into a bag and was about to follow it with his master’s rolled-up cloak when Sigismondo’s hand intervened and took it from him. ‘Oh, yes, you’ll need it, a-course. Wish I had something as thick.’ On the bed, an unexpectedly white furry object emerged from under a horse blanket Benno had come by, and shook itself, cocked its ear at Sigismondo and wagged a plumy tail.
‘You’ve washed him. It was time.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have, but it was the fleas. He was like Flea City.’ Benno stopped and put a hand to his mouth. ‘ Oh, there was something I had to tell you, but I expect you’ll want to be off.’
Sigismondo surveyed the room, stripped of their few belongings, and fastened his cloak over one shoulder. He made sure that the purse of gold given by the Duke’s steward was securely stowed, and turned to Benno.
‘First, you’ll tell me what it was, or we go nowhere.’
Benno shouldered his bag and looked resigned.
‘One of Ugo Bandini’s men came. I told him you was with the Duke and he could tell me. He knows me because we always used to fight when we met, me being a di Torre man. I’ve given him more black eyes than would fit out a Turkish brothel.’ Benno rubbed a corner of his jaw as though remembering what he had got in return. ‘Ugo Bandini wants to see you.’
‘Is he still with the Cardinal Pontano?’
‘Not him. Back at the Palazzo Bandini, tearing his hair out over his son. I’m told the Cardinal got tired of his moaning and lamentation, so it was a case of “See you again at the execution, I’ll be praying for you, my son.”’
Benno was already hurrying to keep up with Sigismondo, whose passage through the Palace was attended with as many glances and whispers as before; but with a subtle difference, as though the absence of the Duke’s ring could be sensed somehow.
‘Bandini swore his innocence on the altar of St Agnes?’
‘He’d have sworn his son’s, into the bargain, if they’d have let him. The Duke was furious he went to the Cardinal for safety. Said he wasn’t a tyrant and Bandini could trust his justice. Strikes me-’ Benno skipped to keep up — ‘that’s what he’s afraid of. Anyhow, he’s back in the family hovel and wants to see you. I suppose we’re going? We’ll look for the Lady Cosima after, won’t we?’
The reply was a ruffle of his hair that made Benno stumble forward, ahead of his master for once. They left the Palace, not by the Castello gates and the long ramp, but by the modern door onto the square, and the dog began to cast in circles after the new smells.
‘Thought I’d call him Biondello,’ Benno said, ‘like the other one. He’s not as pretty, I mean he’s not a lady’s dog, but he’s little and he’s white.’
‘He is now,’ said Sigismondo.
They threaded their way through the city by the lanes, alleys and courts known to Benno as the most direct route. Biondello scorned direct routes. The city was the place of miraculous smells, and he ran at least double the distance without ever straying far from his masters’ heels. One extremely fine heap of garbage, though, was in the possession of a family of pigs, who drove him off in short order. He was also kicked out of a shop and hit accurately by a blind beggar he investigated. He was frisking down a narrow street between high houses, in front of the two men, when the second attack on them took place.
Benno, when the muffled figure rushed on him from the mouth of an alley, simply dropped like a scythed flower. His assailant’s blow fell with deadly force on the man beyond, who was attacking Sigismondo; he thrust this sagging form aside and was about to deal with Benno’s attacker when a third skirmisher came from above. He had been crouched on a wall, and most likely intended to bear Sigismondo to the ground, but the slight noise made by his falling body was enough to assure him a welcome. He was seized in irresistible hands and slammed against the wall. While this operation was being repeated, the first assailant had crouched over Benno and swung his right arm back for a neck punch. At this moment Biondello’s young sharp teeth closed on the back of his thigh and he rose, Biondello attached, with a supernatural cry.