David Blixt - The Master of Verona

"No, I had nothing to do with that. I wish I had, the heathen bitch. The nurse, yes, I confessed to that sin and was forgiven. But the whoring soothsayer was killed by the Count's partner."

Pietro squinted at him across the flames. "Partner?"

A laugh. "You know so little. Yes, the Count's partner had the oracle killed. The message sent, the messenger had to die. Otherwise she might reveal the partner's name."

This partner is the one who has access to Cangrande's seal. "I'm going to die anyway, so tell me — who's this partner?"

Pathino smiled, a horrid version of Cangrande's famous grin. "That would be telling."

But another odd suspicion was forming in Pietro's mind. "You're willing to kill women and children. So why didn't you murder Detto? Why haven't you killed him yet?" He pointed to Cesco, on his knees under Pathino's blade.

Pathino was silent for a very long time. Suddenly he spat into the fire. "My father was a clever man. He told all his whores of a curse on his bloodline. I don't know who began the curse, or how. Perhaps it was Alberto himself. It may be he feared one of his sons doing him ill. Perhaps it was a guilty conscience, or simple foresight. But whatever the curse's origin, we are not allowed to take the life of anyone who shares our blood. Sanguis meus , the old bastard said. Blood of my blood. Anyone who does will suffer death untimely, and eternal damnation." Pathino shivered. "I will not be damned to fulfill my destiny. God would not ask it of me. That is why I did not kill Nogarola's boy — he is my nephew, through Cangrande's bitch of a sister. And that is why I will not kill this one."

"But you will be damned, Gregorio. Is that even your real name? You've committed murder today, and you will not have a chance to confess or even pray before Cangrande comes here to kill you." Pathino just laughed, and Pietro pushed more. "Think on this. One hour. That's the head start you had. Four hours. That's how long it took me to catch up to you, even though I had to trace you back and forth across the river. One minute. That's how long it will take for Cangrande and his merry men to notice the signs I left for them — a broken twig, a sword slash in the base of a tree. I figure it'll take them about three hours to trace us here. How long have we been sitting here? Any minute you'll hear the hoofbeats of a thousand knights — and I mean real soldiers, not cowardly backstabbing, woman-murdering scum like you." There was consideration on Pathino's face. Perhaps even concern.

Pietro pressed his advantage home. "I'll make a deal with you. Give up now, and I'll let you pray before they hang you. You can ask forgiveness. That way you won't be damned. Your soul will fly to Heaven. Now, give me the boy."

It almost worked. But Pietro made to stand too soon. Pathino's dagger pressed against Cesco's face just below the eye. "Don't you move! I may not be able to kill him, but I'll take out his eyes. I mean it."

Cesco was still, not even blinking. He made sounds that the gag muffled, but his eyes were on the blade that threatened his skin. Pathino shook him. "How would you like that, nephew? I hope you're not afraid of the dark, because you'll live in blackness forever. How does that sound?" Pathino's head snapped up again to snarl at Pietro. "The Count wants him alive? Fine. But he'll be blind. Is that what you want? Is it ?"

"No." Almost a whisper.

"Then sit down. Sit!"

"Listen-"

"No! No more talking. We'll sit and wait for the Count to get here. And you better hope that your master missed the trail you left. If not, my beloved brother will get his son back, mutilated and scarred. Even dear sister Katerina won't be able to look at him without vomiting."

Pietro opened his mouth to let an insult fly, but Pathino drew the knife lightly over Cesco's skin, making a small cut just under the eyebrow, off to the side. Blood trickled down the small face.

Cesco didn't move, but made a sound almost like a growl. Pietro saw the child staring past Pietro at the ground nearby. Again the boy growled. Pathino shook him once, with real violence. "You shut up, too."

Cesco looked straight at Pietro, green eyes direct and imploring.

What's he trying to tell me?

Surrounded by an armed escort of twenty men, the coach from Verona moved swiftly. At Soave they encountered Vicentines guarding the road. Giovanna and Dante were informed that the battle was indeed won, but there was no word yet of the missing children. Jacopo, all excitement, asked to borrow a horse and ride at the front of the small party. This was arranged and, thanking the Vicentines for their news, the lady ordered her men to press on without delay.

Dante was now alone with Cangrande's wife in the carriage. The downpour beating down on the roof effectively drowned out polite conversation. When the lady said something Dante was forced to ask her to repeat it.

"I said, do you find that great men are incapable of fidelity?"

This was definitely not a path the poet desired to travel. But he couldn't not reply. "There is much to be said for the powers that lead a man to greatness — strength, will, grace, intelligence, the ability to persevere against all odds, ambition — a great man must embody all these in great quantities to survive the pitfalls of this world." A flash of lightning outside. Dante waited for the roll of thunder to pass. "An excess of these lead to other excesses."

"If these great men are so intelligent, why do they not understand…?"

"I never said they were wise, my lady, only intelligent. Wisdom is not innate in greatness. It can only be gained through the trials of a man's life."

"Is infidelity admirable?"

"Certainly not."

"But you were not cruel to the promiscuous in your great poem," observed Giovanna of Antioch.

"God punishes, not me," replied Dante. "To the matter of fidelity — think of Odysseus. He took lovers all his life. Yet there is not a couple more revered for their fidelity than the King of Ithaca and his Penelope."

After a moment Giovanna said, "I have no children."

Dante nodded. "And it is a mark of his affection for you that he has not set you aside."

"Yet." Her voice was harsh. "Not set me aside yet . I suppose I should be grateful." She drew a curtain aside to stare out at the storm. It was Dante's impression that she was weeping, but he did not choose to look.

Vinciguerra was dozing when Cangrande entered the smoke-filled room, his sister in his wake. "I understand I have another sibling. I rejoice. You must now tell me where I may effect a touching family reunion. I have no more time for these games."

"Ah. In that, too, you are quite like all your charming siblings. No, no games. But I will not tell you where they are." Vinciguerra was determined to enjoy this last confrontation. "I have spent some time thinking about what my lady Nogarola has told me of star charts and prophecies. She clearly believes such nonsense. But I wonder — do you?"

"We are men of the world, Vinciguerra. This world, no other."

"That is hardly an answer. But I think you do. I think you believe in the story of the mythical beast who will transform the world. Certainly it consumes your brother. You both long to be that beast. So why not kill this child to begin with? He is nothing but a threat to you."

" If he is the Greyhound," said Cangrande with a sour look at his sister. "There is some debate on that point."

"But why take the risk?" demanded the Count. "Why let him live?"

Cangrande smiled, but it was a cold smile. "For the same reason your Pathino has not, and will not, kill him. Sanguis meus . He is blood of my father's blood. Now tell me where they are."