Shadow of the Lion

She looked him up and down. Benito was acutely aware of his velvet and lace. "It's a poncy outfit," he muttered. "But Dorma insisted."

Maria stood up and turned to face him, hands on her hips, her dark eyes fulminating. "Oh. The next Doge insisted. You poor thing."

Benito flushed, acutely aware that she was slightly taller than he was. "So?"

"I am a canaler, Benito. You, on the other hand. You're behaving like an absolute copy of Caesare, strutting about."

Benito felt that was unfair. All right, so he'd been enjoying the victory. Enjoying the waves and . . . yeah, enjoying the kisses some of the girls had given him. Maybe that was it. "What's wrong with you? Why are you biting my head off?"

"I'm not. I just asked you to leave me alone . . . seeing as you only seem to want to see me when it suits you."

Benito felt his mouth drop open. "Give me a break! I've had to spend time with Marco and my grandfather and Dorma. And there just hasn't been much time. And I've been to see you . . . twice. And you were with Kat. Or out."

"Twice!" said Maria. "Oh, I am sorry. I should have stayed in just in case you came to call. I'm a canaler, Benito Valdosta. I have to work, you know."

Benito took a deep breath. "Well. That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought--"

What was he thinking, anyway? He'd been wandering around with a vague notion in his head of "making it all work out with Maria."

The thought finally came into clear focus. He was too surprised to keep from blurting out the words.

"Well, then, you and me should get married. Maybe," he added hastily, seeing the storm signals.

There was a long silence.

"I mean . . . you wouldn't have to work or . . . and Dorma and my grandfather said they'd set me up. Um . . . Get some experience in trade. One of the colonies . . ." he trickled off into uncertainty.

"You're proposing to me," she said flatly. "To get me off the canals."

"Well, yes." Benito said awkwardly, flushing. "I thought it would be best."

"I don't."

"But . . . but you'd be rich and comfortable and . . ."

"And a canaler in the Casa Vecchie. No thank you. I won't marry for that reason."

Benito was bright red. "We could go to Corfu. Or Negroponte . . ."

"Oh, excuse me. Where Venice can't see me?" Maria's voice would have cut steel.

"I thought you would want to marry me. You don't have to," said Benito, beginning to get angry himself now.

His anger was nothing to her white-hot sarcasm. "Oh! What a favor the next Doge's brother-in-law's younger brother is doing me! A poor little canal-drab like me should be so delighted at his attentions. Well listen to me, Benito Valdosta . . . Va'funcula." And she turned and walked off to her gondola, leaving Benito still gawping at the obscenity. A few moments later she set off, a lone vessel heading up the Grand Canal into a virtually deserted Venice.

* * *

Benito wandered back. There didn't seem much point in staying here. He was not concentrating on his footsteps--or where he was going. It took severely disturbed concentration to walk into someone the size of Manfred. Benito managed it.

Manfred looked more amused than anything else. "Ah. My crazy young friend from our visit to the Dandelos, and a little assault in court-house! Dressed like a princeling, today, not an urchin, or a Dorma servant. What are you doing walking around with a face like your girlfriend just gave you some really bad news. What's wrong?"

Benito shrugged. "Women," he said trying to sound casual about it.

Manfred laughed. "I know what you mean. My uncle seems too fascinated by Francesca for her to have any time for me either. Can't figure it out. He's not even staring at her cleavage." His shrug was a massive copy of Benito's. "Women, just as you say. Let's go and find some wine. Wine always has time for us. And wine doesn't mind if you have another goblet of wine either."

THE GRAND CANAL ---------------

It came to Maria that someone had been whistling to her for some time. She looked up. Valentina. And Claudia. With a very suspicious-looking bag.

"Maria Garavelli, I wish the Schioppies were as dreamy as you," said Claudia from the fondamenta. "Give us a lift, will you?"

She pulled up. They slung the bag in. It clinked. "A good time to be shopping," said Valentina cheerfully. "Everyone is at the celebration."

Claudia looked curiously at Maria. "Why aren't you?"

"I didn't want to stay," said Maria, curtly.

"I would have thought Benito would want your company?"

"There is nothing between me and . . ." Her lip quivered. "Benito. He doesn't love me. And I don't need him. Anyway, I'm going to marry my cousin Umberto. I just made up my mind. My family's been pestering me about it for weeks. They've got it all set up."

There was a startled silence from the two thieves. "Oh. That's very sudden," said Claudia. "We thought . . ."

"It's not exactly something that can wait," said Maria bluntly.

Valentina and Claudia exchanged glances. "How long . . ."

"At least two months," said Maria, shortly. "And, no--I don't know who the father is. Probably Caesare. Um. Maybe not. I always took precautions with him, after the first few days. The other thing happened too quickly--"

She broke off, squaring her shoulders. "What difference does it make? It's either Caesare or one other, and either way if I don't get married it's a bastard."

She shook her head. "Never mind. My cousin Mario is a sweet man--I've known him since I was a kid--and he says he doesn't mind. It'll work out. I won't marry for security and I won't marry for position and I definitely won't marry someone who still doesn't know if he's a fox or a wolf."

She looked at Claudia and Valentina. They were staring at her. I'm babbling, she realized. And why am I telling this to a couple of thieves? "So. Enough of that. Where can I put you off?"

"Er. Here will do fine," said Valentina. She sounded as uncertain as Maria sounded to herself.

THE ROAD TO ROME ----------------

When Father Eneko Lopez and his two companions recognized the three horsemen who overtook them on the road to Rome, their jaws fell. Even the Basque priest, for a moment, lost his composure.

"Your Majesty?" croaked Diego. He glanced at Lopez, seeking confirmation. Lopez had spent time with the Emperor in private discussion; Diego hadn't.

Eneko's jaw snapped shut, almost audibly. "This is most unwise, Your Majesty. The Holy Roman Emperor should not be traveling the roads of Italy escorted only by two bodyguards." His eyes squinted at the costume Charles Fredrik was wearing. "Especially not disguised as a prosperous merchant."

Charles Fredrik's scowled. "Nattering at me like Trolliger! And here I'd been looking forward to your company, too."

He plucked at the rich fabric. "As for this, it's far more comfortable than my imperial robes--much less armor. And it's necessary, anyway, to keep my identity a secret. It is essential that I be able to meet with the Grand Metropolitan in person." Breezily: "I'll not forget to put in a good word in favor of founding your order, Eneko, be sure of it." Less breezily: "And--ah--I felt the secrecy was needed, not for only for its own sake, but because--ah--"

Pierre barked a laugh. The Emperor's face darkened a little.

"Well, yes," admitted the most powerful man in Europe. "The last time a Holy Roman Emperor visited Rome he may have left some residue of ill will. Seeing as how he sacked the city. So I felt a certain modesty and discretion would make for better diplomatic results. I have got to bring this damn Petrine-Pauline feud under control. Down to a simmer, at least." He brought hard eyes to bear on the three priests who hoped to found a new brotherhood of struggle against a rising Satan. "As I'm sure you will agree, under the circumstances."

Eneko nodded. "As to that--certainly. But . . . Your Majesty, it's simply dangerous."

The Emperor's laugh sounded like a lion's roar. "Oh, nonsense!" He slapped a meaty hand on the even meatier shoulder of the man riding to his right. "Here I have my nephew, who quite recently"--the ferocious old man couldn't keep the pride out of his voice--"broke the back of a Svear demon. You saw it yourself, Father! And to my left--"

Another meaty hand slapped a shoulder which, though sinewy rather than massive, sounded more like iron than flesh. "The finest scion of Clann Harald!"

Eneko smiled grimly. "Who, on the same day--unless I'm badly mistaken--gave Chernobog himself the worst headache of his life." He raised his hands in a little gesture of surrender. "I suppose you're right, Emperor. With such an escort, you probably don't have much to fear from highwaymen."

"I'd say not," murmured Diego. "In fact . . . I'd feel a little better myself, having them accompany us."

"Done, then!" pronounced the Emperor. "You will provide us with still more in the way of disguise--pilgrims going to Rome--along with your own convivial conversation, of course. And we will keep the odd ruffian from pestering you."

Pierre nodded solemnly, in the sage manner of peasants everywhere. "Well said. Ask any Savoyard. It's always best to have a second string for your bow."

THE PIAZZA SAN MARCO --------------------

Venice slept. The last celebrants had gone home. Dawn would be here in a few hours, but for now the great winged lion looked out over a sleeping town. Well, nearly.

Kat and Marco stood in each other's arms at the base of the Lion's column, looking out at the moonlight on the dark water of the lagoon.

The moonlight cast a great winged shadow over them, and the piazza that is Venice's heart. Like a shield.