The Master of Verona

Pietro tried a new tack. "You hate your father for being sinful. But what about you? You've committed murder. Not on the battlefield. You murdered the nurse in Verona — the one you stabbed in the chest."

"A tragedy. I prayed for her."

"Decent of you. What about Fazio? Have you already prayed for him?"

Pathino shook his head in honest sadness. "Poor fool. He made a scene by begging. He didn't understand why he had to die."

Pietro trembled again, but not with cold. "What a fine figure you'll cut before God, the slayer of women and boys. Did you kill the oracle, as well?"

"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?

Thirty-Seven