On Friday morning Pietro was preparing his bags when Tullio d'Isola knocked on the door. In his arms he carried a neat bundle of letters, all signed and sealed. "The Scaliger wishes you to take these to the Ambassador Dandolo of Venice, with his compliments."
Pietro tucked the letters in the leather satchel slung on his shoulder. "Thank you, Tullio."
"I was also asked to deliver these to you, ser." The Grand Butler handed over two letters sealed with wax.
The first was from Antony, thanking him for sticking up for him with the Scaliger. His plain style mirrored the way he spoke. 'You're my one true friend. If you ever need anything from me — even my life — I'll give it in a heartbeat.'
"Poor Menelaus," said Pietro. Two days after the duel, Dante had quoted Homer at court, calling the girl Helen and young Montecchio Paris. The Verona wags had found this particularly apt, especially as Mariotto was banished to France (though sadly not Paris). So Antony was suddenly saddled with the nickname Menelaus.
The second letter was from Mariotto, in which he expressed his deep regrets that his actions had affected Pietro. It ended, 'I hope someday you'll understand, and we can be friends again.'
Pietro tucked both notes in with his belongings.
"There is also a letter," said the Grand Butler, "from Donna Nogarola. She left instructions to give it to you in person."
The day after the duel, Katerina had left with Cesco for Vicenza. Pietro's breath shuddered a bit and he coughed to cover it. Opening the folded note, he read the brief message written in her fine hand:
Dear Pietro,
I know why you and my brother quarreled, and over what. I regret that I have placed you in a bad position. This exile will not last. You have my word on it.
Katerina
The paper held the faintest hint of lavender. Pietro tucked it in his shirt. "Say farewell to the staff for me. Brief though it was, they've made my stay more than welcoming."
"It was our pleasure," replied Tullio. He departed.
An hour later he mounted Canis and joined a small band departing the city. He and his new groom Fazio were not alone. Exiting the city with him were Ignazzio da Palermo and the Moorish servant. Their destination was also Venice, and they had offered to accompany Pietro that far.
Ignazzio and Theodoro led the way towards the Ponte Pietro, the eastern bridge out of the city. Pietro's destrier, newly christened Pompey, was tied to a lead that rested on Fazio's saddle. Atop Canis, Pietro lagged behind to allow Mercurio a last snuff at Dante. Father, brother, and sister were all there to see him off. Jacopo made a joke about the world ending if they were ever all in one place too long. Antonia and Poco both waved, but it was Dante's gaze that Pietro felt. The old scoundrel had a good nose, he could sniff out a lie. The poet knew something underhanded was going on, and was not pleased.
No doubt Katerina would have told him that Pietro was leaving because of the boy. That was true. But not in the way she thought.
Pietro hated lying to them all. But he couldn't very well tell them the truth, could he?
That he, the astrologer, and the Moor were off to hunt a scarecrow.
IV
Twenty-Eight
Calvatone
27 October 1315
Exhausted, the soldiers of Verona took their ease in one of the camps that surrounded the blackened walls of Calvatone. The fifth town to fall to Cangrande this month, it had been the hardest nut to crack. But this morning the town had surrendered, and the Scaliger had granted a single night for celebration before his forces moved on to the final goal — Cremona.
October was hardly prime campaigning season, but it had been a nasty summer. First a scorching heat, then heavy rains that ruined crops all across the north. Meat and eggs began to run out, capons and other fowl died of pest, swine could not be fed because of the excessive price of fodder. Even bread wouldn't bake unless the grain was first put in a vessel to dry.
Up until the rains, the ruler of Cremona, a staunch Guelph by the name of Cavalcabo, had been a worried man. He'd heard the rumours that with the Paduan wars suspended, Cangrande would be looking to expand west. The Scaliger's excuse would be an old claim that Mantua had rights in Cremonese territory. But without food, it would be madness to march.
In the first days of October Cangrande showed signs of madness. Staging his forces out of friendly Mantua, he swiftly took Ponte di Dossolo, Viadana, and Sabbionetta. This last was a huge blow, for it was where Cavalcabo had sent his money and women for safekeeping. Cangrande sent Cavalcabo an offer — food in exchange for his family. Cavalcabo cursed and, stalling Cangrande's messenger, secretly prepared Cremona for a siege.
Meanwhile Cangrande's soldiers survived on the supplies captured from each town, though the Capitano promised that any surrendering town would be allowed enough food to survive. Towns that held out, like Viadana, were left without means to last out the winter.
Even with the confiscated food, Cangrande knew he couldn't remain in the field long. To his good friend Passerino Bonaccolsi he said, "We have to strike like lighting. If we stall, we're through."
Cangrande's partner in this enterprise, the lord of Mantua had the promise of ruling over all the captured towns. Thus he was eager to keep the campaign moving. A week after taking Sabbionetta he led the attack that opened up Piadena, a bare fifteen miles down the road from Cremona itself.
The next city on that road was Calvatone. By now the combined armies of Verona and Mantua with their many mercenary condottieri were well accustomed to siege work. But the hardy Calvatonesi resisted mightily. Three times Cangrande himself led the assault, and each time he was repulsed just as he was on the verge of scaling the walls.
This morning Cangrande had pulled Passerino aside. "We're stalled. Another day and we'll lose our momentum."
"Do we want to make an all-out attack?" suggested Passerino. "Split our forces, hammer them on two fronts?"
"I'd rather not have a slaughter on our hands. I'm going to make them an offer."
"What kind of offer?"
"If they surrender, they can keep their provisions. I know, the men need food. But it's why they're holding out so fiercely. They don't love Cremona or Cavalcabo, and it's not pride, it's fear. We'll remove their fear, promise not to hurt a hair on their heads, just let us garrison the city and move on."
Passerino saw the sense in that. "Who should we send?"
Cangrande grinned. "Who's the most practical man we know?"
The offer was made by Nico da Lozza. Standing before the town gates under a flag of truce, the Paduan turncoat proposed the Scaliger's terms. "In return for your submission, the honourable Cangrande della Scala, Capitano of Verona and Vicar of the Trevisian Mark, promises to spare the lives of every Calvatonesi, be he old or young, Guelph or Ghibbeline! Moreover, he promises that the food and water that is currently yours will remain yours! There will be no looting, no rapine! Every man within Calvatone will remain unharmed, every woman virtuous, all property in the hands of its current owner."
The spokesman for the town called down from the wall, "We must be assured! There must be no reprisals!"
"There will be none! On that, you have the Scaliger's own word. And he is, as you all know, an honourable man! He has never broken a bond! But know this — if Calvatone refuses this generous offer, he pledges to remove your town from the face of the earth. No one will ever know you existed. The land will be salted, nothing will ever grow here again."