The Master of Verona

"Something like that," nodded Pietro. "But more than a map. Fate throws an obstacle in our way. We decide how to deal with it. That's our free will. We cannot fight Fate, but we can choose our reaction to it." Grinding to a halt, he realized how stupid he sounded as he watched Cangrande kindly turning his words over and over, as though they were worth considering.

When the Scaliger spoke, his tone was musing. "A man may be master of his actions, but not his stars."

"It was just a thought, lord," added Pietro hastily.

The Scaliger looked up from his contemplation. "And a fine one, Signor Alaghieri. I wish you had spoken it at supper. That sentiment far outstrips anything said by the warriors, diplomats, and poets tonight. You are wise beyond your years."

"This surprises you?" mocked a feminine voice from behind them.

"Ah, Donna Katerina." A glimpse of his sister was all he needed for his glib demeanor to return. "No doubt he is wise, but for the desire to see me yet living."

"Age may well temper that desire." Tonight her chestnut hair was held back by a single band of black.

Pietro managed to stand awkwardly. He was graced with a brief nod before Donna Nogarola again fixed her eyes on her brother. "If you are done wallowing, I have news."

"It is arranged?"

"It is. Do you wish me to go?"

Cangrande threw up his hands in mock horror. "What, have you tramping about in this weather, catching your death from the chill? That would never do. Bailardino would never forgive me."

"Then I owe my health to your fond feelings for my husband?"

"He raised me. I am the man I am today because of him."

"Perhaps I should thank him with a gift each year on your birthday. What should I choose?"

"A knife?"

His perfect smile was returned in kind. "My dear brother, you read my thoughts. But the knife that kills my husband would have to be sharpened on both ends, so it would cut out my heart as well."

As before, Pietro had trouble following the exchange. Their discourse was like an onion, each layer revealing another. It was impossible for an outsider to know what lay at the core. Something ugly, that was certain.

Katerina sighed. "So I am not to ride out tonight. Whatever would I do without your regard for me?"

"You shall never have to know, my sweet, for of all people, you have my fondest regard."

"So whom do you propose sending on so formidable an evening?"

"No one."

A frown passed over the lady's face. "Have you changed your mind?"

"Not at all. I do not propose sending anyone. I shall undertake the voyage myself."

The lady's disapproval was manifest. "You will be missed."

"If anyone asks, I am drunk. Or perhaps I've taken myself to pray in the chapel. Or at an orgy — in the chapel. I leave it to your imagination."

"My imagination often falls short of your reality. Nevertheless, I will play the spider and spin a web of lies for you. You should not go alone."

"Should, could, would, dear sister. I will have it my own way."

"Not if I say otherwise."

"Even then."

Their gazes locked, neither giving ground.

He didn't know where Cangrande planned to journey, nor why Donna Katerina wanted to undertake the trip herself. All he knew was he wanted to be helpful to them both. Almost before he realized it he was saying, "I'll go with you, lord."

Both Scaligeri turned and Pietro felt a frisson of unease as their eyes examined him. Still, he pressed on. "I'm well enough, and I've been going mad lying still all the time. I want to do something."

Brother and sister exchanged a look. Cangrande spoke first. "I would be glad of the company. With that said, I don't want you to worsen your injury or fall ill from a drenching. I have a long ride ahead of me. We wouldn't be back before morning. If at all," he added ominously.

"I would be honoured to aid you in any way, my lord."

"You didn't answer my question, Pietro."

"Perhaps you should ask one, then." Stepping close, Katerina laid a light hand on Pietro's sleeve. Her proximity was enough to make Pietro forget the chill rain. He could smell a hint of spiced malmsey on her breath, mixed with that wonderful lavender. "What we want to know is if you're well enough. Are you?"

"Yes, lady."

"This errand will be a secret, though its outcome will not. These events must always remain beneath the rose, as it were."

"Or herkos odonton, as the Greeks say," added Cangrande. "Within the hedge of your teeth."

Katerina examined her brother with wry disdain. "Peacock. I find the image of Cupid buying some fool's silence for a rose somehow endearing."

"And appropriate, if I am to play Cupid. But Pietro is no fool."

"No, he is not. May we trust you with this secret, Pietro?"