Eric Flint - The Shadow of the Lion

After the masque was over, Lodovico insisted on remaining for a while. That was unusual. Then he took up an offer to join a number of the Case Vecchie at private soiree at the camerata of Lord D'selmi. As a rule, Kat's grandfather preferred to keep his appearances at these social gatherings to the bare minimum required by the demands of status. Tonight, however, he seemed much more energetic than usual. Kat noted that the invitation to proceed to the Casa D'selmi had included Francesca. Seeing him join the crowd which gathered around Francesca there?quite a bit larger, now, that crowd?Kat almost choked. Partly from amusement, partly from chagrin bordering on outrage.

My own grandfather! That woman is shameless! So is he!

Eventually, humor won the engagement. Kat smiled and turned away from the sight of her grandfather flirting suavely with Francesca. At least he's not glaring at the walls, planning revenge on Valdosta.

She sighed. Not that Lodovico Montescue could afford Francesca, these days, any more than he could afford to pay capable spies and assassins.

The evening wore on. The camerata sparkled with silver, candlelight and fine Venetian glassware. Katerina wished she could say the same of the intelligence of the boring, fat old curti who had backed her up against a wall and was now attempting to talk her to sleep with his self-praise. There was Lucrezia Brunelli, laughing to her own court of gallants?who were no younger and no less corpulent than the ones gathered about Francesca?her hair gleaming as if it had been spun out of coppery gold. Katerina didn't envy her for suitors… and if rumor were to be believed, lovers. All she envied Lucrezia for was the ability to escape being trapped by a idiot with breath like old anchovies, too many chins, and his interminable tales of his not-really-so-clever little swindles in the Levant.

Kat was amused to see that?for once!?the crowd of men gathered about Lucrezia was not the largest in the palace. It was not small, of course, but it was definitely smaller than the little mob surrounding Francesca. Smaller, and?a lot less noisy. Lucrezia was slightly more beautiful than Francesca, Kat supposed. The beautiful lady of Casa Brunelli was also famous for her intelligence and witty repartee. But Kat had overheard that repartee, in times past, and had always found it fundamentally hard-edged. Nasty, in truth?a matter of scoring points in a contest. Whereas, judging from the relaxed and boisterous laughter coming from Francesca's gathering, the men there were discovering Kat's friend to be more convivial company. Francesca's sense of humor was… genuinely funny. Her jests were jests, not barbs; and as often as not likely to be directed at herself rather than others.

So, as the fat old curti droned on and on, Kat paid him as little attention as possible. She was observing the subtle contest going on between two beautiful women elsewhere. And found herself enjoying the fact that Francesca was clearly emerging the winner?judging, at least, from the frequent and angry little glances Lucrezia Brunelli sent her way.

Relief came from a strange and unexpected quarter. And relief was even less welcome than the old geezer's breath had been. As happens at such large gatherings, the slow swirl of the crowd eventually brought someone new in front of her.

The minute that Kat saw his face, she recognized it. It was not a face you forgot. The aquiline nose, the single line of forbidding brow; the aura of power and dominance quite out of keeping with the man's height. He was dressed with plain severity, which was also out of keeping with the Venetian nobles and merchants. The same garb, she recognized, as that of the two priests in the crowd around Francesca. Someone had commented on it. Someone had murmered "political influence." It worried her.

He obviously worried the fat old toad, too. "Goo… good evening, Senor Lopez."

The foreigner favored the toad with a faint lift of his eyebrow line. "Ah, Signor Della Galbo. I have been to see you on a number occasions at your home. You were either away or indisposed. I am glad to find you here when you are neither."

"Uh. Yes, of course, signor." Little beads of sweat had started out of many-chinned toad's florid face. "But it's really getting late, and I must be off. Call upon me at my home. Excuse me, M'lady Montescue." He vanished with a speed that was almost astonishing for one so portly.

Katerina found herself fully in the eagle-eyed gaze of Senor Lopez. "My apologies, signorina. I did not mean to interrupt your discussion with Signor Della Galbo." He bowed. "My name is Eneko Lopez de Onez y Guip?zcoa. I am a stranger and guest here in your midst."

Kat curtseyed and held out her hand in the accepted manner, restraining a strong instinctive desire to run like hell. She wished she could equally restrain the cold sweat on her hand. Maybe this Lopez expected all women who were introduced to him to have cold-fish hands. "Katerina Montescue. I trust you are enjoying Venice?"

He certainly showed no reaction to her clammy hand as he bowed low and kissed it in a practiced courtly manner. "Alas, no." An almost-smile touched the face. "I find it damp. But that is inevitable in a city with so many canals. And one does God's work where God wills. Now, if you will excuse me, Signorina Montescue?"

"With pleasure!" Kat fled. He recognized her?she was sure he did!

She found she'd escaped one unpleasant thing, only to have to deal with another. "Well, well, well!" said Alessandra, archly. "Got a suitor I see. Signor Della Galbo is quite a catch. But better keep your hands off that fascinating Spaniard. Lucrezia has marked him as hers."

Kat shuddered. "She's welcome to him. And she can have Della Galbo too, with pleasure. Alessandra, he's fifty-five if he's a day. He's old enough be my grandfather, never mind my father! And he is fat, gross, and stupid, and his breath smells."

"But he's got money, darling," said Alessandra with a little moue. "Pots and pots of it. And you, I obviously need to remind you, haven't got any. You'd be lucky to even get such an attractive offer. He'd at best want you to be his mistress if you weren't Case Vecchie, and him nouveau riche. Or are you going to run off and marry some commoner? You just do your duty and… well you can always have a lover on the quiet. So long as you're discreet."

"If that's the choice, yes. I'll run off as soon as possible." The thought of "doing her duty" with that… made her feel nauseated. Best change the subject. "Who was the other man, that your friend Lucrezia has got her hooks into?"

"My cousin Lucrezia Brunelli… That was Ricardo's guest from Spain. Castilian nobility. Well?Basque, actually. A rising man in the Church, with friends in Rome. An envoy plenipotentiary from the Grand Metropolitan himself, people say."

Kat swallowed. The Petrine church had its agents too. This was probably one of them. The Petrines were more tolerant than the Paulines, but in the factional fighting… well, people were ground between them. Whole cities were ground. If the rumor her grandfather had told her was true, Ferrara could be next. The Po River city had played a delicate balance between Venice and Rome, against Milan and the North… And sometimes the other way around.

She was relieved to see her grandfather stumping up. "Let's go home. The conversation's turned to politics, and the more I listen to these fools the angrier I get," said the old man, his grizzled eyebrows lowered in an angry frown. "Except for Petro Dorma?and Francesca de Chevreuse, from the little she said?they're all a lot of sheep. Bah. The Republic of Venice must stand for the Republic of Venice. Not for Milan, or Rome, anyone else. Come. I want to go home."

Predictably, Alessandra pouted. "The night's still young. I'll come home later. I want to meet some of those knights from Germany. They're supposed to be here later."