PART II:
CITY OF TOWERS
Who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as
if it had issued out of the womb? …
Hath the rain a father? Or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
Job 38: 8, 28
CHAPTER 20
One year after the Siege of Rasenna, the Year of our Lady, 1371
The other students never mocked Uggeri’s elaborate preparations to his face; he was, after all, a hero of the siege which had ended with the destruction of the Twelfth Legion and the death of all but the youngest Apprentice. Uggeri made up for his late start in the Art Bandiera with practice and ability. He prepared like the bandieratori of old, and it was quite a thing to watch his prickly dissatisfaction as he picked a weapon from the rack – to hear him testing the flag’s snap and the wood’s spring, weighing it in his hand, tipping it, letting it roll over the top of his fist with the sceptical look of a man listening to a coin-changer. In any other student Sofia would have called it fetishism, but give Uggeri an enemy and all hesitancy disappeared like dew on sun-baked stones. The Doc used to say sincerity was as rare in a fighter as charity in Ariminum, but Uggeri did everything with sincerity.
He came at her roaring,
Tok
Tok
Tok.
Sofia gave ground coolly. ‘Pace yourself. Every strike doesn’t have to be a knock-out.’
In response Uggeri roared again and leapt for her, twirling his banner in great red swoops. As Sofia stepped aside her flag did a great, leisurely rotation, then she suddenly jabbed his left leg.
‘Ugh!’ He tilted protectively, but declared defiantly, ‘I’m still standing.’
‘Not for long.’
She threw the same combination back and this time, balance gone and footing confused, he tripped himself. Sofia stood over him, flag aimed at his temple. ‘Bam, you’re asleep. From the moment you grip a flag you should be thinking. But you’re too angry to think. Find the peace at the heart of the fight and you’ll be unbeatable.’
Another student would have been embarrassed to be bested so easily, but Uggeri laughed and jumped up, eager to try it again. His approach to Art Bandiera was practical; before he’d picked up a flag he’d been a fighter. Things that other bandieratori valued – looking good, style – meant nothing to him, but Sofia knew he loved a good trick.
His devotion to her was fierce, and she trusted it because it had nothing to do with her former status. He had given his flag and his decina to Doc Bardini, but that loyalty did not automatically transfer to Sofia Scaligeri when she took over the Bardini workshop. Uggeri became a believer when he saw her fight.
‘Go easy on them, Contessa!’
Sofia turned sharply, smiling when she saw who it was. ‘Pedro Vanzetti! I’ll run my workshop my way, thank you very much. You concentrate on running the Engineers’ Guild. You left so many half-built churches when you disappeared that I’ve been thinking of picking up a hood myself.’
Pedro held up his hands contritely. ‘Matters of state; I returned as soon as I could.’ He wore the same outfit as all Rasenneisi engineers: a sleeveless leather jacket with several pockets, and hose and doublet in sober tones of grey and brown and black, but his long, tangling hood was used as a scarf and was dusty from his travels. He looked better with skin tanned by the sun instead of the furmaces, and not covered with yellow grease and soot. ‘When’s the next meeting?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow. I thought you were too busy for us now?’
‘I’m trying to remedy that,’ he said; he’d made a point of attending the monthly Signoria meetings until his responsibilities had interrupted.
A giant condottiere tilted his head into the workshop. ‘Where is she?’
‘Yuri!’
The students leapt out the way as he marched towards Sofia. He picked her up by the waist and held her above his head like a toddler. ‘Ooof!’ His cheeks puffed out. ‘Getting heavy! Fewer noodles and more exercise for the Contessa!’
While Yuri teased Sofia, Pedro hailed Uggeri warmly, though he wasn’t surprised when Uggeri returned the salute coldly. They might be contemporaries, but Pedro represented the city Rasenna was becoming: a city, like Concord, with engineers at its heart. Uggeri took it as a personal affront that the bandieratori were being marginalised. Pedro regretted the animosity, but not the progress Rasenna had made. The coming war would not be won with romantic notions.
‘Put me down, you oaf. I need to inspire respect in these boys.’
‘Who is disrespecting my Sofia?’ Yuri let her down and made a lumbering stampede at a cluster of students. ‘Show him to me!’ When they scattered before him, he turned around with a wave of a giant hand. ‘See? Respect is restored.’
Sofia made a courtly bow. ‘My valiant knight.’
Yuri curtseyed in return and said, ‘Where’s the peddler? Is he getting fat too?’
‘No, he’s getting saddle-sores riding up and down Etruria, preaching about this league like a wandering mendicant. I’m afraid he’s made few converts.’
‘Levi is good talker.’
‘Nobody’s that good,’ said Sofia, glancing at Uggeri, ‘and while you have been away—’
‘Don’t tells me,’ Yuri said warily, ‘the little mices are fiddling. I tell you, Contessa, there’ll be no peace until there’s war.’ He lumbered to the door, goodnaturedly picking up students and hurling them out of his way as he moved.
‘So, what did you learn at Montaperti?’ Sofia asked. Pedro had been reconnoîtring the terrain between Rasenna and Concord. Montaperti, the site of Rasenna’s greatest victory, remained the most likely route Concord would take – though a new offensive was unlikely any time soon if the remaining Apprentice’s hold on power was as tenuous as reported.
‘Well, I can see why your grandfather picked it. If they come, the pass is still the best place to stop them. I have some ideas to run by Levi.’
Sofia watched him as she listened. Pedro was no longer the fragile boy he had once been. He had a hardy strength acquired on building sites, and a solemn, kindly manner. Though he was not yet sixteen, he was growing into a man who reminded the older weavers of the tall, confident figure his father had been before the Families had beaten him down. Sofia was reminded of someone else – a painful memory – but she didn’t hold it against him. It was good to have some tangible mark besides the bridge of Giovanni’s time amongst them.
She eyed him now. ‘That doesn’t explain the length of your absence. Your orphans have been missing you.’
Pedro became suddenly coy. ‘I should see how they’re doing.’ The members of the Engineers’ Guild were known as Vanzetti’s Orphans because of their unsociable hours.
Sofa was about to press him when Yuri’s great head reappeared in the doorway. ‘Sofia! Donna Bombelli, she say come at once to Tower Sorrento. It’s time!’