The Master of Verona

They rode along together for a while, each with his own thoughts. Mercurio padded along nearby, and Fazio rode ahead, happy to do his job now that the two men weren't sharing secrets. Suddenly Pietro said, "What did the Egyptian lion tamer owe you?"

"I made a star chart for his son. It allowed the family to make certain provisions for the future."

Pietro nodded, looking the Moor over from head to foot. "Ignazzio wasn't the astrologer. It was you."

"He was born with a certain skill at the pendulum, and came to me as an apprentice."

"And also a walking target."

"That, too, was part of his duties."

That's cold, thought Pietro with discomfort.

Clever, but cold. "Is there a way I can reach you?"

"The menagerie is leaving Padua, and I shall rejoin it on the road."

"Let me guess — they're heading for Vicenza next."

"Yes."

"Are you still Theodoro, or…?"

"They call me the Arūs. But my true name is Tharwat al-Dhaamin."

"I can't even say it. But I'll remember."

"Do. And be alert in Vicenza. The stars tell of a coming change in the boy's life."

"What kind of change?"

"I am unsure, but it is drastic. All the charts agree. During his fourth year the boy comes under a new influence that will help to shape him. You are involved."

"Me? How?"

"Again, I cannot say. The stars show danger for you during this change."

Pietro looked accusingly at the Moor. "You've made a chart for me."

The Moor shook his head. "No. I have been to Florence to study the chart your father commissioned when you were born. It has the value of more precise omens."

Pietro blinked. "My father had a chart made?"

"He did. It shows what I suspected all along — you are important in the Greyhound's life."

"If he even is the Greyhound. Did you ever-?"

"I made several more charts, taking into account your idea of two falling stars, crossing in the sky. Some were wonderful, some horrifying, but until events unfold there is no way tell which is the true chart." The Moor reined in his steed. "I will part from you here. If things go awry, or if you ever need me, send a message to the cobbler in the town of Alhambra, in the Spanish province of Grenada. It will eventually reach me."

Pietro was aware of the honour being done him, the trust reposed in him, and bowed his head to acknowledge it. Though is it for me, or because he's seen my chart? They saluted, and the Moor rode off. Theodoro of Cadiz, the Arüs, Tharwat al-Dhaamin. How could a man live with so many names? But then, reflected Pietro, Cangrande had just as many. Francesco della Scala, the Scaliger, the Capitano.

But not the Greyhound.

That's what this is really about. The Count wants the boy, and his agents have failed. The only way he can think of now is to take the whole city.

But what does he want with Cangrande's heir? What value is he? Ransom? Revenge? What is the goal?

Fazio fell back to ride beside his master. "What was all that? Are we going somewhere? Is there news?"

Pietro continued to ride in silence, thinking. In a couple weeks he'd be back in Verona with his friends and family. And Cangrande would show the world how he valued his errant knight. Ser Pietro Alaghieri, knight of Verona, dispenser of justice. He would then become a lawyer, maybe someday even a judge. And before that, one more battle, one more chance to blacken Carrara's eye. More than that, it was a chance to expose the Count's partner. Capture the Count of San Bonifacio and force him to give up the name of his spy in the Scaliger's court. It was all about to happen.

The waiting was over.

Capulletto Estate

Closer to Verona, on the land southeast of the Lago da Garda, there was a beautifully built mansion some two centuries old, surrounded by the best arable land. This respectably sized estate held no castle, but the mansion was as fine as anything to be found. Until the turn of the century it had been inhabited by that staunchly Guelph family, the Capelletti. After that line had died out, the lands had been under the stewardship of the lords of Verona. Every few years a new tenant would come and lease the lands until he was evicted by a new court favorite. Cangrande and his brothers had been sure not to let any one man grow too attached to the land.

That changed two years ago, when the mansion suddenly became a beehive of activity. A new family was in residence. Or rather, a new old family. The Capulletti.