Ilario, the Stone Golem (3 page)

sweat down my spine, half the length of the Mediterranean Sea away

from her.

Am I not supposed to understand her better, now?

‘I have no idea how to be a mother. Valdamerca raised me as a slave.’ I

shrugged. ‘But Honorius is a good father. If Onorata lives, perhaps I can

be to her what he would have been to me.’

The Egyptian slowly nodded.

I don’t know if Rekhmire’ mentioned the conversation to Honorius,

but one day after the year’s early Easter, when I ventured downstairs, I

caught the Captain-General of Castile and Leon drawing up dowry

documents for his granddaughter, and another version of his will.

He blushed and put the documents away in his portable wooden

writing-desk.

‘I leaned to write a reasonable scribe’s hand when I didn’t have an

ensign in camp who could do it for me.’ He shrugged, ostensibly casual.

‘I want you and Onorata to be wealthy when I die.’

‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ I nodded towards his sword, where it

was wrapped in the scabbard’s straps and laying on the window-chest.

‘Pass me the sword and I’ll be able to afford all the red chalk I could ever

need . . . ’

Honorius grinned.

‘I’ll haunt you,’ he said cheerfully.

‘You do anyway. I can’t get away from you. You and the bloody book-

buyer!’ I raised my voice in case Rekhmire’ should be near enough to

tease, but there was no response.

And no crying baby, either. He often took her into his lap while he

sorted scrolls, so I suspected the one absence answered the other.

Honorius neatly cleaned and wrapped up his quills and wax tablets

and paper, stowing them away. He crossed the room and bent over to

place another piece of wood on the fire in the hearth.

‘I spoke through Carmagnola to Doge Foscari,’ he observed. ‘Appar-

ently, Messer Leon Battista will come for trial, soon.’

I had wondered why matters would drag on for so long – until I

worked out that the Council of Ten would want to know how it was that

so very many identical seditious news-letters could be produced within a

short amount of time. And since the name of Herr Mainz wasn’t being

bandied about Venezia, I guessed Leon had not yet spoken.

A slave has always to live under the threat of torture. It is a subject I

have given some thought. The idea of Leon Battista having to undergo

pain like that, unprepared as he must surely be . . .

Honorius put his lean hand on my shoulder. As if he read my mind in

my face, he said, ‘Neferet’s seen him. She says they’re letting darkness

and hunger do their work for them. Given the Alberti family’s place on

the Council, even Foscari won’t use outright torture until he can make it

11

seem there’s no other option. And by then he’ll be out of there. You like

Leon Battista,’ he finished, with an odd questioning note to his voice.

I nodded. Frankly, I said, ‘I think he’s a
fool
. But I don’t have a city that I care about as he cares for Florence. Perhaps I’d do the same under

those circumstances. Slaves don’t have homes in that way.’

‘No.’ Honorius’s hand gave my shoulder a final pressure. He looked at

me with a smile. ‘Have you thought? Onorata is freeborn.’

For my final examination before he departed, the Janissary doctor was

visibly not certain whether to request a man or a woman as chaperone.

Baris¸ seized on Rekhmire’’s muttered volunteering with gladness –

likely because ‘Alexandrine eunuch bureaucrat’ trumped both in terms

of respectability.

‘You should tell the physician if you intend to have sex again,’

Rekhmire’ mumbled towards the end of an extensive examination,

translating some of the medical Greek technicalities.

I raised both eyebrows at him.

A dark flush turned his Egyptian colouring something closer to brick-

red than I had imagined possible.

‘Whether you intend to fornicate . . . It’s not as if you’re breast-

feeding, to avoid conception. I know he’s said, ah . . . that it’s all but impossible . . . but . . . You ought not to get pregnant again. That would

be very dangerous.’

I grinned at him. ‘You’re not my master, Rekhmire’.’

Or a mother hen, I reflected, as he looked even more flustered.

Evidently pulling himself together, and ignoring my minor harass-

ment, Rekhmire’ faced the Jannissary doctor. ‘
Is
Ilario capable of

conceiving another child?’

I murmured, ‘Now there’s a question I never wanted to hear . . . ’

Baris¸ looked amused. Rekhmire’ failed to.

‘Because, you see, if Ilario is capable, then having sex as a woman

could be dangerous, if not fatal.’ Rekhmire’ stuttered. ‘Ilario, will you be

content to have sex as a man does?’

‘Uh.’ I felt my cheeks heating; knew I must be red from neck to

hairline.

‘With – another
man
, that is? I suppose – of course – if you were to have sex as a man does with a woman—’ Rekhmire’ tucked his arms

tightly across his chest and glared down at me. ‘Doctor, can Ilario get a

woman pregnant?’

‘No.’ Baris¸ shook his head. ‘Never.’

He glanced from Rekhmire’ to me, and back to the Egyptian.

‘Because I have never, in my entire professional career, seen such a

scarlet shade of embarrassment – I doubt this patient will ever have sex

again!’

12

What concerns I might have had were, by that, and the expression on

Rekhmire’’s face, exploded completely.

I howled and clutched at my ribs.

Rekhmire’ squirmed. ‘I hardly meant . . . I had no intention of . . . !

I—’

‘Go
away
, Rekhmire’.’ I couldn’t stop grinning. ‘You’re not my

master, you don’t have to force yourself to ask the doctor gynaecological

questions! And Physician Baris¸ is right. At the moment, I’m debating

between a monastery and a nunnery! Just so long as it’s a celibate order!’

It wouldn’t have surprised me had the Egyptian cited some of the

more scurrilous rumours about Frankish monasteries and nunneries.

Instead, Rekhmire’ clattered his crutch against the floor and made a

production of lumbering off. I wheezed with the first uninhibited laugh

I’d had in months.

Baris¸ eventually ended his investigations under my skirts.

‘You’re healing healthily and quickly. Put no stress on that part of your

body; avoid heavy exertion for the moment.’ He signalled to the giant

Balaban to pack up his medical chest. ‘Might I have a look at the child? If

you don’t mind?’

I lifted Onorata out of the oak-chest cot, unwinding the nominal

swaddling bands that loosely swathed her. Instead of crying, she beat

thin perfect arms against me, and snuggled onto my chest in wide-eyed

relaxation, apparently gazing up at the Turk.

‘Can you tell? If she’s normal,’ I clarified.

He ran his finger down the sole of her foot, watching her small toes

curl. ‘I examined her at the birth.’

‘Yes, but – I don’t know what there might be on the inside.’

Baris¸’s ship’s-prow nose cast a shadow across Onorata’s body as he

bent down, peering very closely.

‘These things are so rare. Nor do
I
know, to be honest. And most

“hermaphrodites” are men born looking in some way like a woman, or

women who have what resemble the man’s parts. Or nothing changes

until they become adult, and then a woman merely coughs and testicles

appear . . . I thought the
true
hermaphrodite was only a rumour. A fable.’

I sighed as he lifted Onorata with all gentleness, and laid her back on

the wooden chest’s bedding.

I put my hands to the hem of my shift. ‘You want another look?’

‘May I? The last occasions have been a little fraught . . . ’

His voice became muffled as he bent down.

The iron instruments were cold, making me flinch.

In accented Alexandrine Egyptian, Baris¸ observed, ‘You have little

more than the eunuch has, as testes go! I
wish
I had you for an autopsy,

to find out for certain whether this lump is testes or ovary . . . ’

‘Well, I’m damn glad you don’t!’

Baris¸ gave me something perilously close to a grin, and gestured for

13

me to pull my shift back down. ‘A shame I go back to Edirne now my

captain has recovered. You could put it in your will that I could have

your body.’

Having pulled my shift down, I shrugged my way into the voluminous

Venetian over-robe that Honorius had gifted me, and began to lace up

the front of it.

‘Firstly, I’m not dying! And, secondly, if I
do
die in Venice, not only will my friend Rekhmire’ follow you to Edirne and kill you several times,

each more horrible than the last . . . I, personally, will
haunt
you.’

The Turkish doctor called for a bowl to bathe his hands. Deadpan, he

remarked, ‘I begin to see the advantages in the Hippocratic Oath . . . ’

Having washed, he took a wax tablet and stylus from an inside pocket

of his tunic, and poised the one over the other.

‘I may write to Ephesus and Padua with my findings,’ he remarked,

small bright eyes focusing on me. ‘But I have a number of additional

questions I wish you will answer, Ilario . . . Which only you can answer.

You
must know which is best – the male orgasm or the female orgasm?

So, which? Or is it that you feel you only know what’s normal for a

hermaphrodite, and not for a man or a woman? How is your sexual

appetite? When your man-parts are spent; is it possible to function as a

woman until the male refractory period passes? Have you ever dually

and simultaneously—’

Honorius walked into the room, perfunctorily rapping on the door.

‘Oh thank God!’

Honorius ignored that. ‘I need to talk to you. Alone.’

14

3

‘Alone’ meant three of us; my father sending one of his men for

Rekhmire’. Four, if Onorata counted – blissfully silent, since asleep in

her lidless oak chest.

Honorius himself served mulled wine into ceramic bowls. He sat on

the joint-stool by the bed, set his own wine down on the stone hearth,

and scratched at his hair until it stood up in tufts, giving him the

semblance of a fierce, if ruffled, owl.

He broke the silence.

‘A letter has arrived. Written to me.’

Fear stabbed under the joining of my ribs.

I ignored Rekhmire’’s concerned frown and held out my hand. ‘Show

me!’

Silently, Honorius fished out creased papers from his sleeve, and held

one out between two fingers. I took it.

‘From King Rodrigo Sanguerra.’

If my sight blurred with shock, I still recognised Hunulf’s penmanship:

a particular curve on the ‘d’ and ‘g’. He’s long wanted my nominal

position as scribe to the Sanguerra family.

I reached for the bowl with my other hand, welcoming the hot taste of

spiced wine, and finding my fingers shaking only a little as I read.

‘Translated freely,’ I observed, ‘it appears to say, “Get your arse back

here before I sequester your estates
and
put your family under

attainder”—’

Rekhmire’ snickered, caught Honorius’s glare, and glossed it: ‘You see

why I employed Ilario as a scribe.’

‘No.’ Honorius kept a perfectly straight face for a moment. He

smirked as he took the page back from me and passed it over to the

Egyptian. ‘I grant you the accuracy of reading between the lines.’

‘This isn’t like the last one?’ I speculated. ‘Not a dozen copies sent out

to ambassadors or bankers, so that one would get to you sooner or later?

This came direct to Venezia?’

Rekhmire’ did not even look up to see Honorius’s confirming nod.

‘It would appear that King Rodrigo knows where the Captain-General

is . . . There are other channels by which information could pass, but I

will point out that Aldra Federico – and Ramiro Carrasco, when he was

15

at large – are both positioned to have told your King this. Or rather

Videric, whom we may assume would tell King Rodrigo.’

Honorius muttered, ‘
Court
politics!
’ in tones of deepest disgust I got up. It eased me to pace the room, despite the pull on my pink and

healing stitches.