The Master of Verona

"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.

Epilogue

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."