Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [249]
The young nobleman lay on a bier. I didn't look at him, not right away. Instead, I watched Lucius circulate, speaking intently to those in attendance. There were quite a few; merchants and the lesser gentry of Lucca, left to grieve while the elite debated the city's fate. I followed, explaining to those who'd not heard the rumors that it was Gallus Tadius who spoke.
Most of them had.
Young men nodded at his words, pressing fists to their hearts and peeling away. I heard the sound of footsteps, running, and I knew they went to get arms; hunting bows, javelins, whatever they had. I was privy to Gallus' plan. I knew they would toss weighted ropes over the limbs of the oak trees atop the city walls, securing them and climbing to wait, hidden, in their foliage. The citizens of Lucca might witness their ascent, but from the outside it was invisible. The Red Scourge was rising.
How much of it was pride and anger given purpose, and how much of it was the pall that hung over the city? I could not guess. The dead were afoot, but they were not my dead; nor Eamonn's, nor Brigitta's, nor Gilot's. Were we immune to the thrall of violence, the surety of command? I thought so, or I wanted to think so. We followed Lucius because he was our friend. Loyalty. And we followed him because I weighed the same circumstances Gallus Tadius did, and came to the same conclusions.
Phèdre had taught me well how to gauge men's souls.
I wondered, in that fleeting hour, what Claudia thought.
But there was no time; no time. Only time to pay my respects to the dead. I did, at last, pausing beside Bartolomeo Ponzi's bier. He lay stretched upon it, his skin the color of old ivory. It was a little sunken, nothing more. One could tell he had been a handsome young man, the dark brown hair swept back from his brow. His mother had wept for him; a small, round woman. I'd seen her escorted from the room. I did not wonder that Helena had loved him. He had been killed trying to prevent her abduction. Valpetra had cut him down where he stood. There was somewhat about his dead features, the proud, angled jut of his nose, that put me in mind of Joscelin. I didn't even like to think it.
"Bartolomeo." Beside me, Lucius shuddered. He touched the waxy flesh of Bartolomeo's cheek. "Forgive me."
"Lucius?" I thought it was him.
"Love as thou wilt." His mouth twisted. "Isn't that what you say? He never got the chance. Montrève, do me a favor."
"What is it?" I asked.
He looked at me and it was Lucius behind his eyes, scared and haunted. "Look out for Helena. Gallus…" He paused. "He reckons she's expendable."
I nodded. "I'll try."
"My thanks."
I watched Lucius' presence vanish as we left the Ponzi villa; his stride lengthening with brusque purpose, his spine growing rigid. By the time we reached the courtyard, he was gone. And Elua help me, as awful as I felt for Lucius, I was glad to see Gallus return.
Eamonn was waiting for us, holding the horses. Brigitta was already gone, hidden in the trees, armed with a hunting bow she'd chosen at the Tadeii villa. With luck, she'd never need use it. That was the only good thing about Gallus' plan. If he was wrong and Domenico Valpetra meant to negotiate in earnest, he'd never know we were there.
We mounted and rode toward the gatehouse square. The city was filled with a muted buzz. The streets were mostly empty, but people had clustered on the rooftops. Atop every building, the citizens of Lucca huddled and whispered.
The temples were crowded, too; mostly with the poor, hoping to claim sanctuary. We passed the Temples of Jupiter and Mars on the way to the gatehouse, and fearful faces peered from the open doorways. A squadron of the city guard was posted before both temples. Gallus Tadius—I had begun to think of him thusly—cursed at the sight.