His mind raced. That the plan would work, on its own terms, Caesare had no reason to doubt. But . . .
What is the point of it? And the trouble it might stir up! Does that clerical cretin have any idea how—?
He broke off the thought. It was none of his business, after all. For whatever reason, Caesare’s new employer and protector had given his approval to the abbot’s silly schemes. Though why Brunelli, whose fortunes were tied to the Metropolitans, should have done so was a mystery to Caesare. Not for the first time, Caesare wondered if Casa Brunelli always operated with a single mind.
Interesting thought. But he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue it. Soon enough, Caesare had little doubt, he would have to look for another employer anyway. And, for the moment, the one he had paid well and—
He smiled across the table at Aleri. And keeps this one, and his cohorts, from peeling the hide off my back.
Aleri’s chair scraped slightly on the floor as he pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. “You’d better keep one eye open from now on when you sleep,” he growled. “Because the moment that your new patron finds you too expensive to support, is the moment when I finish the job I bungled.”
Caesare continued to smile. “In that case, I needn’t worry,” he mocked. “You’ll have a long, gray beard before that day comes.”
Aleri stared down at him. “And did you tell your new woman your real history, Caesare?”
Caesare must have shown something in his face; he cursed himself silently as Aleri continued: “Of course there’s a new woman. There always is, with beautiful golden Caesare. You betray everyone, women even quicker than men. Whoever the girl is—and I’ll find out, soon enough—I pity her. But my pity won’t keep me from killing her also. An example must be set for what happens to traitors and their whores.”
The Milanese turned and stalked out.
Caesare continued to play with his wine, and wait for young Benito to saunter in as a signal that it was safe to leave the place. As he did so, his thoughts drifted over his new . . . associates.
Maria was invaluable for the moment, leaving aside the pleasure her fiercely enthusiastic lovemaking provided. Very unskilled enthusiasm, to be sure, and Caesare was beginning to get bored with it. But that problem was easy to solve, after all. Caesare gave it no further thought, beyond an idle moment of curiosity as to which of several Case Vecchie girls would be the first to climb into his bed and provide him with more expert entertainment. Alessandra, for one. He was quite certain the Montescue woman was eager to rekindle their old affair.
The boys, on the other hand—Benito in particular—were proving far more useful than he would have guessed. No one ever looked twice at a child, particularly not a canal-brat like Benito. Aleri and his ilk would be looking for a woman. That they’d discover Maria soon enough, Caesare didn’t doubt for a moment. Any more than he doubted what would happen to the canal-girl once . . . the situation changed. But the Montagnards would never suspect Caesare of employing the boys as his aides. Particularly not those boys—given how their mother had died, and by whose hand.
But that, after all, was part of the dance, wasn’t it? Caesare flexed his right hand, for a moment, remembering the feel of Lorendana’s throat as Bespi slid the knife between her ribs. She had been quite shocked when she died, he remembered. Not so much with the knife as with the hand that kept her from crying out. She had always understood the risk of assassination, moving in the circles she did. What she hadn’t expected was that her own lover would set up the killing—and time it for the moment she was most defenseless. Naked, in her own bed, right after they finished making love.
A stupid woman, in the end, for all her quick wits. She should have known that once she lost the favor of Carlo Sforza she was sure to receive the delayed vengeance of Filippo Visconti. Yet she’d been careless enough to accept a Milanese adventurer as a new bedmate.