David Blixt - The Master of Verona

"True. But I blame you for giving it to me in the first place."

"I had no choice! It was my destiny! My fate is to raise Il Veltro ! I am supposed to be the-"

Cangrande's voice filled with contempt. "You are! You have what you wanted! If Cesco is the Greyhound, you've shaped him, his mind, his thinking! He'll bear your brand forever! Do you think he will ever forget you? Do you think he could? Or is it recognition you crave, when he is grown and a figure of international fame? Is that the part you see yourself in? Caesar's mother? Christ's? Well, Madonna Aurelia Maria, you've done your part. Now it is time for Cesco to go to people who will love him."

Katerina gasped. "I love him!"

"Yes, you do." Cangrande touched the hilt as his hip. "As I love my sword. It is a tool. But unlike you, without it I am my own person. I do not define myself by my sword alone. You love all your tools, Katerina, but only as much as they are of use to you. No tool can transform you into that which you are not. Believe me, if you discovered this minute that Cesco was not the mythic savior, you would forget him as easily as you forgot me."

Katerina's voice was small. "I never forgot you."

"Well, you can now. From this time on, I want nothing more to do with you."

He had delivered the killing stroke. Yet in doing it he'd exposed the chink in his own armour. Katerina was too tired, too spent by the fortunes of the day and the violence of Cangrande's feelings, to notice. She did not recognize as Pietro did that Cangrande was inviting her to protest, to plead, to beg, to yell, to clamour to be a part of his life still. It was her opportunity to refute everything he'd said.

Instead she said, "May I visit him? May I have that, at least?"

In that moment, she lost. Pietro watched the closing of a door that would never again be opened. The Scaliger was victorious once more. Yet how bitter, to win by losing all.

"Yes. You may cling to your precious destiny. But never in the open, and never for long. We cannot let you be traced there. No one can know where he has gone. We must rumour it that he is dead, or driven mad, or spirited away by demons. Or all three."

The lady had regained some of her composure. "I understand."

"Don't fret, dear sweet sister. It is not too late to be a mother yet. There are your own children, who will not trouble you, for they are merely mortal. As are we all. You can instill in them a deep and abiding belief in the Church, or the stars, or the pagan gods, if you like. And if you're worried that little Cesco will take after me, you can be sure that with Pietro, the Greyhound shall grow to be all you wish him to be, without either of us ruining him."

"No."

Brother and sister turned to face Pietro, who had retreated to the roof's edge. Face half in shadow and half in light, he stared at these two people he had respected, loved, for so long. "No."

Cangrande bowed his head. "Ah, Pietro. You're quite right. We've forgotten our judge. We submit to your wisdom. Who is the victor? Who is at fault? What should be done with the boy? It is for you to say."

One after another, Pietro's illusions were falling away. He stood here more naked and alone than he had been in the cave. "Listen to you — both of you! This can't be about your personal war, or your place in history! Neither of you is interested in the boy!"

Katerina stepped nearer. "Pietro, think about what you've heard tonight. If you refuse, Francesco will only find someone else, someone nowhere near as brave and honest as you."

Pietro kept shaking his head. "No."

Cangrande picked up where his sister left off. "You're correct. Our feelings about the boy are coloured by our own demons. You're the selfless one. You've risked your life to save him how many times? With never a thought to yourself. He must go with you."

"Demons is right," said Pietro coldly. "No one would believe me if I told them what lies under the della Scala skin. No. I won't be a part of your games anymore. You tried to — you would have killed my father? Morsicato, Tharwat? Cesco? You can't pass a child off to me and declare a victory. No. I refuse." Without another word, he turned and limped to the stairs. In moments he was gone.

Brother and sister watched him go. The Scaliger let out a long sigh. "It worked."

Katerina's eyes opened a fraction. "You knew he was there?"

"Yes."

"You also knew I'd come after you, so you staged the scene?"

" Alterius non sit, qui suus esse potest . He's quite correct. We're monsters, you and I."

"We are what the stars make us."

"We are what we will be."

"He'll hate you, you know."

Cangrande shrugged. "Any birth takes pain."

Katerina strode to her brother. Her left hand in bandages, she couldn't embrace him. Instead, she kissed his cheek. "Does this end our war?"

Cangrande put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you dead? Am I?"

Stepping back, Katerina nodded her understanding. "You know, you still surprise me from time to time. With all your calculating and your infinite rage, I often forget your nobility."

"Darling, let's not get carried away. Do you think he'll accept?"

"I don't see what choice you've left him. I wonder if he sees that."

"Pietro's eyes are open now. To many things."

"If I may ask — when did you choose him?"

Cangrande blinked. "That first day, here in the palace. Before you came in he was talking in his sleep. Something in his dreams, I think. It wasn't very clear. But when you told me the boy had been born, I knew he would need a champion."

Katerina cocked her head to the side. "He spoke in his dreams? Has he inherited his father's magic?"

The Capitano opened his hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't know about magic powers, but I've seen Dante when he writes — he's in another world. And there is more to his writing than the choice of words. I think God brings about certain times in history, certain energies that merge in men — I don't know. Pietro has dreams. That is something he and Cesco share."

"And you."

"And you." The Scaliger started for the stairs. "Come. We both need rest."

"I'll sit up here for a bit. The sky is so lovely tonight."

Cangrande glanced upward. "Really? I find it oppressive. But as you will."

Katerina remained on the roof for some time, unable to move. The conflict had been far more draining than she'd ever imagined. Her heart was broken, but she was proud. Her brother was learning. Someday he might actually become a great man.

But not Il Veltro . That destiny belonged to another.

Turning a corner, Pietro was addressed by a rasping voice. "So. Now you know."

It was a long time before he answered. "Now I know."

Al-Dhaamin's head was thickly bandaged. "I owe you my life."

Pietro remembered the curved sword protecting his head and shoulders as he had ridden to rescue Cangrande. "Consider all debts paid."

"I am only sorry I could not be there when you truly needed."

"Oh? When was that? The cave? The coach? Or just now? For I'll tell you, nothing today compares with what I just heard. Oh, but I'm forgetting — you know everything already." Pietro laughed sourly. "They want me to take Cesco to Ravenna. But if Cesco is the Greyhound, nothing I do matters. If I don't take him, it'll all turn out the same. Right?"

"You know that is not so. Your faith denies predestination. I am inclined to agree. There is much talk of the stars' influence on men. No one ever speaks of man's influence on the stars. There is no relationship in the Almighty's creation that does not extend both ways. The boy may or may not be the Greyhound — that we cannot control. But what kind of man the Greyhound will be, that is open to our influence."