The Master of Verona

Reaching the exterior of the Arena, they circled around to where their horses waited, the giant destriers. Their saddles were all equipped with swords and bucklers. Apparently they were to ride out in full glory.

As he was being helped into his saddle Pietro said, "So who is she? Some old widow?" The look that earned him was deadly.

"Better," Mariotto told him brightly. "She's Paduan."

"No!" said Pietro incredulously.

"Not only a Paduan," beamed Mari as he mounted. "She's a Carrara!"

That took a little of the joy out of Pietro's smile. "What?"

"That bastard's cousin," moaned Antony. "My father went to the Capitano and they decided it would be a fine way to signal the peace. Cangrande has no relatives of marriageable age, so he agreed to present me to the Carrarese."

"That's — quite a match." Pietro didn't know much about Antony's family, but such a union was certainly above their station. It was a signal honour the Capitano was bestowing on the Capecelatro family. Just how much money does Antony's father have?

Hearing Pietro's thoughts, Antony bristled. "Oh, she's not too good for me. Don't worry your snobbish little head off."

Pietro frowned. "I didn't say-"

"No, you didn't! No one does. But I see it in your eyes. You too, Mari!" He swung a fist that barely missed Mariotto. "Everyone wonders why we left Capua, how we made our money. How does anyone make it? Just because we came to ours lately, we get snubbed! We run commendi now! We just provide capital! How did your ancestors get their wealth, Montecchio? Hmm? Are you so proud of the horse thieves in your family stable?"

A coarse and boorish thing to say, worse because it was true. For all their lands and respectability today, the Montecchi fortune had been founded by a branch of the family famous for stealing horses. Even the family motto, Montibus in claris semper vivida fides, had derived from that practice. Faith is always vigorous in the clear mountains — well, it would be if you were praying to avoid capture, riding stolen horses to some hiding place.

Around them the other soon-to-be-knights shifted, watching with eagerness. Mariotto's voice was level. "Take that back."

Antony was uncowed. "Make me."

Mariotto was about to launch a punch at Antonio's head when Pietro walked his horse between them, holding up his crutch. "Umm — I don't think this is how knights are supposed to behave."

Mari looked murderous. "We're supposed to uphold our honour."

"Then think of the dishonour your family will suffer if you don't get knighted today. Antony, if you're mad at anyone, be mad at me. But apologize to Mariotto so we can get on with this." Already the other prospective knights were being summoned to the tunnel that led to the Arena floor.

Antony looked sullen. "I'm sorry, Mari."

Mariotto waited a beat before answering. "I should have let you get skewered."

"I should have let you get shot."

"You fell."

"So I did."

"I'm going to kill you in the Palio, you know."

"You'll die trying."

Mariotto raised the small silver dagger in his hand. "Don't forget, I've got a dagger with your name on it."

"So do I," Capecelatro said, lifting his own knife. And just like that, it was over.

Pietro put up his hands. "Remember, both of you, that my name's on one of these knives. Don't get any ideas."

"Pietro, you really need to stop worrying," said Mari as they fell in behind the line of young cavalieres at the tunnel's mouth.

"Yeah." Antony grinned. "You could start going prematurely grey."

"At least it won't be from my wife nagging me."

"A hit!" cried Mari.

Even Antony laughed as they rested in the shadow of the tunnel. "Keeps me from a life in church, though. Did you see that poor sod waiting on Guelco and the abbot?"

Pietro recalled the young monk with the new tonsure. "I did, in fact. I'm surprised he isn't married."

"Probably likes the boys," said Antony, scandalizing his friends. "But thank God, I've avoided the cloisters. Now I only have to weather a wife!"

"It won't be too bad, Antony," observed Mariotto.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. I was just trying to make you feel better."

"Why don't you ask your daddy to make you a match," suggested Antony sweetly. "Then we can both put our heads into the noose together."

"Not me," said Mariotto, puffing out his chest. "Footloose and fancy-free. When I marry, I want to have lived a little."

"Oh, thank you!" snarled Antony, rolling his eyes back in his head.

"Shhhh!" Pietro pointed. The steward was signaling that it was time to ride out into the Arena. He began to give them their instructions. The three young men in back shifted on their horses and straightened their farsettos as they listened.

"Pietro," whispered Antony urgently. "Seriously, dine near our table tonight. I don't want to meet her alone. Mari will be there."

"I will," Pietro whispered back.

Then they were riding out to huge applause under the noonday sun.