CHAPTER 40
The gonfaloniere’s wife was well liked, and Rasenna was unusually subdued in the days that followed. Fabbro didn’t notice. He’d tried losing himself in the minutiae of his accounts and when that failed, drink worked.
It was noon, and Maddalena found him three-quarters through the bottle. She sat at his feet saying nothing. His fingers gently touched her hair.
‘We used to fight, Maddalena, your mother and I – oh, the most tremendous quarrels! And not just shouting, either – I, well, I never was a bandieratoro, and your mother was a Cassini – I could tell you stories about her father, he was a real bandieratoro. But we’d wrestle and slap and scratch until we were quite exhausted, and then reconciliation would be sweet. Our love matured, but I always took comfort that she was as strong as I. Oh child, what will we do without her?’
‘I’m here, Papa.’
When the Ariminumese letter came, it was a relief for everyone. Donna Bombelli’s death left Sofia friendless, and with a horrible dread that Maddalena had been right: the longer she tarried, the more would suffer. Hadn’t Isabella warned her?
‘There’s opportunity in every crisis.’ Levi held up the letter. ‘The invasion of Dalmatia has woken Ariminum from its lethargy. As General Spinther marches, its colonies fall like towers, one by one. Without this hinterland, the Adriatic is no longer a solely Ariminumese sea. Ships clog Ariminum’s harbour, ships full of merchants who’ve abandoned fortunes to save their lives and families, exiles who infect that proud city with fear – fear that has belatedly made Ariminum realise it’s part of Etruria too; fear that shows Ariminum Concord for the threat it is. This summit they propose is the first real progress in months. Where Ariminum leads, the South will follow. That’s why we must go and make the case for the league.’
Though the gonfaloniere looked to be sleeping, he was listening, and he suddenly had an illicit thought he knew must never be voiced: that Rasenna had more in common with Concord than with any of the cities of the South, which was still ruled by lords, families, tyrants; Concord and Rasenna, ruled by men of skill, should be natural allies.
‘They address their letter to The Contessa,’ the brewer remarked.
‘So?’ Levi said quickly. ‘How should they know Signorina Scaligeri gave up her title? And for that matter, why should they care?’
‘If we send her, Ariminum and the other cities will continue with that impression.’ Grumbled agreement circled the room. The bandieratori’s role in the occupation of the bridge still rankled with the priors.
Fabbro seemed to wake suddenly from his stupor. ‘This summit is to resolve one question: peace or war. We must do something with our surfeit of soldiers.’ He looked directly at Sofia. ‘Blood follows the Scaligeri wherever they go. Let this one go and preach war so that Rasenna may have peace. Go, Contessa. If you can persuade Him, go with God. If you cannot, go anyway.’