A third of the way across the river his courage gave way. The stones were slippery and even the bigger ones tilted as he moved his weight on to them. With every step he took he was in danger of tipping into the rushing water and being swept off his feet. There was a choice of stones and he didn't know which ones were stable and which treacherous.

Cesare halted, unable to move forwards or back, unsure now which stones had been safe on his way across and feeling giddy. A black dragonfly came and hovered just in front of his face. Its two pairs of wings were glossy and caught the light. It reminded him of Merla. Concentrating on the shiny insect made him feel less faint. Then it flew ahead of him and settled on one of the honey-coloured stones.

Keeping his eye carefully on the dragonfly, Cesare moved one foot forward and set it on the stone. It held. The dragonfly flitted ahead and landed on another stone; it rested for a second, then flew back to Cesare before returning to the stone that lay ahead of him.

'That's the one is it, my beauty?' said Cesare, and stepped forward. Stone by stone and step by painfully slow step, the dragonfly led him across the river. When he got to the other side and at last found that both feet were on dry ground, the insect flashed its jetty wings three times, then flew up into the trees.

'Thank you!' cried Cesare, looking up. And then he saw Merla herself flying slowly above the woods, with a rider on her back.

Luciano looked down through the treetops that rushed past sickeningly fast underneath him. He understood that Merla could go much faster, but she seemed to be looking for something and he was grateful for that. When he had decided to learn to ride, he had had nothing like this in mind. Even getting on to the winged horse had been an operation; Luciano had never ridden bareback and had always had someone to help him mount. Sitting precariously between Merla's wings and clutching her mane, he had pressed his knees into her flanks and clicked his tongue.

The black horse had flowed into a canter, a gallop and then lifted smoothly up and mounted diagonally into the sky with just a few slow flaps of her strong wings. While Luciano closed his eyes and hoped for the best, she had brought them across these woods.

The woods appeared to stretch south of Santa Fina towards Remora and Merla seemed determined to head for the city.

They both heard the cry beneath them at the same time. Merla stopped beating her wings and hovered in the sky, treading air. Luciano peered fearfully over her shoulder through her thick black mane. There was a gap in the treetops like a parting through a thick head of hair. Luciano could see a thread of blue running through it and a figure beside it jumping up and down waving something red and yellow.

As the figure grew larger, he realised that Merla was looking for somewhere to land. Luciano closed his eyes and prayed to the G.o.ddess. The trees rushed past his head and he heard Merla's wings swish as she folded them neatly over her back, wrapping him in a dark cloud of soft feathers. She lowered her neck so that he could slide down it.

Luciano could hardly stand, his legs were so wobbly. But then he heard a crashing noise and Cesare came running through the trees into the clearing that Merla had found.

The two boys clasped each other in an affectionate hug.

'Cesare! I'm so glad I've found you!'

'You found Merla!'

'Only because I was looking for you!'

Cesare ran to the winged horse who was cropping the gra.s.s in an absurdly ordinary horsey way. He threw his arms round her neck and laid his face against her cheek. For a moment horse and boy just stood quietly breathing in each other's scent.

Then Cesare turned to Luciano. 'We must get to the Campo. It's nearly time for the race.'

'It's OK,' said Luciano. 'Georgia's going to ride Arcangelo.'

Cesare wrestled with conflicting emotions. He knew that the Ram would have had to scratch or hire another jockey. And he knew that another jockey would have been signed up by now and not be changeable. Georgia was at least used to riding bareback, and enough time had elapsed since his capture for her to forge a relationship with Arcangelo. But he was bitterly disappointed. The Stellata was run only once a year and he had been preparing for this one for a long time. Maybe he would be too tall or too heavy to be a jockey next year?

Cesare sighed. 'Will she carry us both?' he asked, still hanging on to Merla's mane.

Luciano shook his head. 'Perhaps for a short distance,' he said. 'But not all the way to the city. Still, I have a horse at the palace and it's only a mile or two north of here.'

'I'm not going back there,' said Cesare. 'That's where I was held captive. It's taken me days to escape.'

'What about Roderigo's place?' said Luciano.

'Brilliant!' said Cesare. 'That should be just west of here and Starlight is still there. Merla would love to go to her and one of us could ride her to Remora.'

'That would be me,' said Luciano, already feeling nervous about the short flight to the Santa Fina stables and quite ready to return to riding on solid ground.

Merla let them both climb up, Cesare giving Luciano a heave and then leaping lightly up in front of him. He leaned forward and whispered in Merla's ear. She spread her great wings and moved forward in the clearing, getting up enough speed to lift off. It seemed touch and go whether she would be airborne before reaching the trees on the other side of the clearing, but slowly her powerful muscles and huge wingspan raised her from the ground. And then she was off, up and away, flying towards her mother.

There was a tight knot in Georgia's stomach. The procession had wound its way round the Campo three times and the Stellata had been hung over the Judges' stand. The ensigns of each Twelfth had executed a final spectacular alzata simultaneously in front of the Twins' stand and had seen with satisfaction that the beautiful d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza had jumped to her feet and applauded them.

The jockeys had all changed horses in the Cortile of the Papal palace and were now seated on their proper mounts for the race. The Archer's jockey, Topolino, touched his helmet in greeting to Georgia and she returned his salute. She didn't like the look of the Fishes' jockey, known as Il Re the king. He was giving her some very unkingly looks and she remembered what he had been like in the heats.

The great bell of the palace suddenly stopped and only then did Georgia realise that it had been tolling all afternoon, ever since the Blessing ceremony. A hush fell in the Cortile.

Then a tall, dishevelled figure shambled in front of the horses. He barely looked at his own jockey, Cherubino, who leaned down to get some sort of blessing from the man.

'Your Grace,' whispered Cherubino, and the Duke stopped and stared at him.

He raised an exhausted hand. 'Victory and rejoicing,' he said woodenly, remembering the formula, and continued his way out into the Campo.

Arianna's heart was pounding. She knew that the race was a sham, rigged so that a di Chimici Twelfth would win. And she knew that the purpose of bringing her here to see it had been to put on a show of di Chimici power and if possible engineer a humiliating defeat for Bellezza's Twelfth, the Ram.

But in a few minutes she would be escorted to the Judges' stand to choose the order in which the horses would take their places. That could not be rigged; she would put her hand into a velvet bag and draw out wooden b.a.l.l.s painted in the colours of each Twelfth. The order in which they came out was the order in which the horses would start, beginning from the inside of the track.

Arianna prayed now for a good placing for Georgia, somewhere near the beginning. The Duke was supposed to take her to the Judges' stand but he hadn't shown up and there was much whispering among his sons, which Arianna was trying to ignore. Then there was a sort of ripple in the stand and Niccol di Chimici was there, looking like a phantom. He gave her a ghastly smile.

'Time for the draw, your Grace,' he said, and offered her his arm.

Georgia was handed a whip as she entered the Campo on Arcangelo; the jockeys came in through an arch under the Twins' stand. The start-line was in the neutral zone that ran down from the Strada delle Stelle in the north; it was matched by another neutral area in the south, where all the people who had taken part in the procession were sitting in a stand reserved for them.

Georgia moved to the start-line, opposite the Judges' stand, in a kind of dream. She could see the Starter with something that looked like a very big trumpet but was probably a sort of megaphone. The d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza stood at his side, looking like a long gla.s.s of iced water in the hot stuffy Campo. And beside her Georgia made out the Duke, looking in need of one. She hadn't seen him for days and was shocked by his appearance.

Arianna was putting an elegantly gloved hand into a black velvet bag. She drew out a red and purple ball 'Archer,' she said in a clear voice, but the Starter repeated it through his trumpet and 'A-a-rr-cherrrr!' echoed round the enclosed Campo. Topolino moved Alba towards the first place.

The Archer's ball was put in number one position in something that looked like a cross between a branched menorah and a row of gla.s.s eggcups. The d.u.c.h.essa selected the next ball and 'Rrramm!' was resounding while Georgia was still trying to believe that the red and yellow had been chosen next. She was second from the inner barrier an excellent position! And she had her ally on her inside.

But the blue and pink colours of the Fishes came next and Georgia found herself wedged between her greatest ally and her greatest foe. Worse still was to come as the pink and white ball was placed in the fourth holder; the Twins would be right next to the Fishes, waiting to gang up on her and give her a bad start.

Some of the crowd began to groan as the lower positions were used up and they realised that their Twelfth would be near the outside barrier. The Lady was drawn last number twelve, the Rincorsa. This last horse would be the one to start the race, entering the ropes at a gallop and setting all the others off, if the Starter thought it was a valid start and no one had been out of place. They had all had the same rules for the heats but no one cared too much about keeping to them. The real race was much more serious.

The gla.s.s cups were all full now and the spectral Duke was leading the d.u.c.h.essa back to the dignitaries' stand outside the Papal palace. Horses were all milling around at the start; there were no starting boxes and several mounts were facing the wrong way, including Arcangelo. Georgia watched the two Ducal figures, so different, walk the few yards back to the Twins and scanned the VIP stand. She couldn't see Luciano there.

But there was no time to worry about it. After two false starts the race was suddenly under way and Georgia had no time to worry about anything except the rain of blows on her helmet from Il Re. Topolino put on a spurt to get out of her way so that she could ride on the inner rail behind him, but Silk pushed Benvenuto into her path and blocked her.

She had had a disastrous start but at least the Fishes and the Twins were now leaving her alone. They thought they had done a good enough job of keeping her out of the race and were now concentrating on their own runs. Georgia was furious but she was still riding and Arcangelo was a fast horse.

She pulled up on the others and as they finished the first lap, she was lying sixth, with a knot of other horses and jockeys. Somewhere in her brain she knew that she had pa.s.sed Paolo and the others in the southernmost stand. She had completed one whole sunwise circuit of the Campo, racing past every sign of the zodiac. Dukes and Princes, butchers and bakers were all one blur to her. Georgia was unaware of everything and everyone except her horse and her fellow-riders.

They were galloping flat out on the second circuit when one single voice pierced through the shouting of the crowd. 'The zhou volou!' it cried. 'The Ram's luck returns!'

Georgia knew the voice was Aurelio's at the same moment that she heard wings. Jockeys wavered and slowed just fractionally and Arcangelo was lying third, behind the Water-carrier and the Twins, as they all swept past the start line again and started on the last circuit.

'Don't look up,' Georgia muttered, gritting her teeth as she heard the crowd cry out with a single voice.

Something pink and white fluttered past her eyes and still she didn't slacken or waver. She drew abreast of Salsiccio on Uccello and felt him falter beside her; she caught a glimpse of his huge frightened eyes, cast up to the heavens.

'Don't ... Look ... Up,' she panted, nearly level with Silk on Benvenuto. The Twins' jockey raised his whip again but it fell uselessly to the ground as Georgia just had time to see him make the hand of fortune and turn white.

She raced past him, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the goal of the little black and white flag that marked the finishing line.

She pa.s.sed it and, as she slowed the big chestnut, could not believe what she had done. She had won. Won for the Ram. But all was eerily silent. It was like being inside a freeze frame on a video. Everyone was looking up at the central column in the Campo. The Twins' colours had been cast down and Cesare was waving to her from the back of Merla, who hovered patiently while he untied a very grubby-looking red and yellow scarf from his neck and fixed it to the pinnacle.

He leaned perilously over the side of the flying horse and yelled down to her, 'Victory! Victory and rejoicing!'

And the whole Campo burst into life and the cheering began.

Chapter 23.

The Ram on Fire Luciano arrived panting in the Campo, having ridden Starlight all the way from Santa Fina. He got there long after Cesare on Merla to find all the stands empty and the remnants of the crowd still pouring out under the Twins' stand to reach the cathedral. He tied Starlight to one of the iron rings in a road leading into the Piazza and hurried towards the Duomo himself.

'Who won?' he asked a pa.s.sing Remoran, but the answer was lost in the noise coming from the black and white cathedral. Luciano fought his way in, and the sight that met his eyes told him all he needed to know. The interior was a blaze of red and yellow as Twelvers from the Ram waved flags and banners high in the air.

Up by the altar in the distance he could see the blue and silver of the Stellata standard and two figures both in the Ram's colours, being carried on the shoulders of deliriously happy Montonaioli. The great nave of the cathedral echoed with cheers and chants; there was no chance of getting to Georgia and Paolo.

Smiling, Luciano left the cathedral and took Starlight back to her home in the Ram.

Arianna was back inside the Papal palace and at a loss what to do. There should have been a splendid banquet served at least nominally in her honour, but the palace was eerily quiet. Everything had gone wrong for the di Chimici; they had been expecting to celebrate a victory for the Twins or the Lady.

It was traditional after the Stellata that the winning Twelfth would hold another ma.s.sive street party, dining under the stars and feasting the night away. But the other eleven Twelfths would be in darkness, all torches and candles extinguished as if in deep mourning.

Now the trestle tables in the square outside the Duomo with their pink and white tablecloths, which had already been set out in antic.i.p.ation of a night's feasting, were empty.

But the Pope was not going to give up on a feast; even if the Twelvers of the Twins had been cheated of their party, that was no reason to cancel the banquet inside the palace. Ferdinando di Chimici suddenly a.s.sumed responsibility as the second most senior member of the family. The Duke was virtually useless and, although Ferdinando could not replace him as a statesman or strategist, he knew what was owed to visiting n.o.bles and it was up to him to save face for all the di Chimici and throw as magnificent a celebration as possible, even if there was nothing to celebrate.

The Duke had gone back to the hospital as soon as the race was over. He seemed scarcely to understand that Bellezza had won. But when Gaetano went to find his father, it seemed that the lagoon-city was still on his mind.

'Father,' said Gaetano gently. 'Won't you come back to the palace for the banquet? You need refreshment and I can stay with Falco.'

'No,' said Niccol. 'You must be there. The d.u.c.h.essa likes you, I can tell. You must take advantage of her good mood to make your proposal tonight.'

Gaetano was horrified. He had been glad to set the courtship aside while Falco was so ill. Now it seemed that his hand would be forced.

'But Father,' he said. 'It cannot be right to talk of marriage while Falco lingers here in this state.'

'It will not be much longer,' said Niccol. 'The physicians say he can't last the night.'

A new grief gripped Gaetano. He would have to mourn his brother without sharing with any of his family the knowledge that would comfort him, the certainty that Falco would live and thrive in another world. And the doctors did seem right; Falco was little more than a shadow of his former self.*

Back in the Ram the torches blazed and the drums pounded. All the children were allowed to stay up late, though the Montalbani twins had fallen asleep under one of the tables. Teresa found them and scooped them up into their wooden crib and sat rocking it with her foot while the little girls ran round between tables waving their flags and crying 'Wictry! Wejoything!' to anyone who would listen.

Georgia was carried back to the Twelfth in triumph on the shoulders of two muscular men. Paolo was carried beside her. Arcangelo was accompanied by a crowd of excited Twelvers all desperate to pat and stroke him. Cesare led Merla, docile because she was happy to be going back home to the Ram and her mother. A small empty s.p.a.ce surrounded her as Twelvers, overawed by her, thronged round but didn't dare get near enough to touch. William Dethridge escorted Silvia, and the chief standard-bearer had relinquished his flag to his companion in order to carry the Stellata banner.

While the horses stood outside, the Rams took the banner and their victorious jockeys into the church, carrying both Georgia and Cesare up the stairs to the front door.

Whichever Twelfth won the race, their first thought was to give thanks to the Virgin, first in the great cathedral and then in their own special church.

Santa Trinita was full of waving flags and jubilant Twelvers. The priest who had given Georgia her helmet, and had blessed Arcangelo only a few hours ago, sprinkled holy water liberally over her now and over any Ram within reach. There was a carnival atmosphere in the building, normally so quiet and solemn. For a Twelfth who had won the Stellata after a drought of twenty-five years, all rules were suspended.

Georgia's feet literally had not touched the ground since she had mounted Arcangelo in the Cortile of the Papal palace an hour ago. After the race she had been practically pulled off her horse by the enthusiastic embraces of her fellow Rams and had to struggle not to let them tear her jockey's tunic off. Now her supporters let her down on the church steps and she fell into Cesare's arms.

'What a night!' he said. 'What a victory!'

'Only because of your diversion,' she said. 'I wouldn't have won without you and Merla. I'm sorry it wasn't you on Arcangelo.'

'Really?'

'No, not really!' said Georgia, smiling broadly.

Another horse came into the square and Merla whinnied a greeting to it. Luciano was leading Starlight up to the others at the foot of the steps. He leapt off her back and threw the reins to a willing Twelver. Rumour had soon got around that this grey was the mother of the miraculous flying horse.

'Luciano!' gasped Georgia. 'You can ride!'

'He's a real horseman now,' laughed Cesare. 'Rode all the way to Santa Fina on one horse and all the way back on another. He even had a couple of flights on Merla!'

'Lucky devil!' said Georgia, looking longingly at the winged horse.

And then Luciano had reached them and grabbed her in his arms and she forgot all about flying.

'Georgia, you did it!' he said and planted a kiss on her lips.

She felt herself turning hot and cold. Never before tonight had she been so embraced and caressed, but this was different. This was Luciano. She kissed him right back and felt him react in surprise. So she tore herself away and kissed Cesare too, so that Luciano wouldn't feel singled out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him relax, even as she registered Cesare's warm response.

Rodolfo had his mirrors trained on many different places: one on Bellezza in the d.u.c.h.essa's palazzo; one on the hospital where Falco lay still and silent; and one on the Ram, because he knew Silvia was there. He could make her out in the crowd outside the big church, even though all the figures were so tiny. And then he saw Luciano kissing the Ram's jockey, for just a fraction longer than was consistent with congratulations on the victory.

He sighed; another complication.