The painted war, p.14
The Painted War, page 14
Bianca stared down at the envelope, as Marco’s quick footsteps echoed away down the corridor. The answers to all her questions about her father were inside, but they suddenly didn’t seem important now that her mother could be lying dead in Oscurita, perhaps buried in some secret funeral – a funeral that she could never attend. After all this, did she really want to know who her father was? What if he was already dead, too? Or if he’d left the city and she would never find him?
No, of course she had to know.
She opened the envelope. It contained a small scrap of paper and a larger, folded sheet of thick parchment.
Bianca read the note first.
Dearest Bianca,
I can’t express how glad I am to have the chance to know you. I think that your father, if you find him, will feel the same. Know that I loved him very deeply, and he felt the same about me. We were torn apart when Edita seized the throne and I had to return to Oscurita.
We can talk all of this through properly when we can finally be together, for good.
Your loving mother,
Saralinda
Bianca put the note down. She felt almost faint with the knowledge that that might never happen.
Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the parchment.
There was a picture painted on the parchment, a simple line drawing in blue paint. It was a picture of Saralinda, though she looked much younger, perhaps nineteen or twenty.
Bianca almost dropped the parchment as the young Saralinda turned, smiled, and the perspective of the picture shifted to show her standing in a doorway, her hands held nervously in front of her, wearing a simple dress and carrying an easel.
It was a storia. The same magical, animated painting that her grandfather had left to her to explain the story of how he had escaped Oscurita with her as a baby. But this one showed a different story …
It was night time, and Saralinda – in disguise as her father’s apprentice – was standing near the back of a group of Oscuritan nobles as they were introduced into the throne room of La Luminosa. The pictures followed Saralinda as she approached the throne and curtseyed to the Duke. He gave her a smile that was so sad it hurt Bianca to look at it. But then his eyes lit up as something tugged on his sleeve and a toddler climbed into his lap. Bianca couldn’t help but smile as the baby Catriona chewed on the Duke’s sceptre and demanded to be bounced on his knee.
Oh, Catriona. Where are you now? Please be all right …
The Duke kissed Saralinda’s hand, and the scene abruptly swam and changed.
Now, Saralinda was wearing a fine dress and a simple mask with the face of a cat. She was at a masquerade ball. Exquisite costumes flashed past her in the background. Saralinda looked around, as if searching for somebody. In the next picture, she was dancing with a man, and they were both laughing. His mask was a simple bird shape, with a protruding beak and a wide-brimmed hat. The ball passed in a series of glimpses, of moments. The bird-man held her hand. They sat together on a bench outside the ballroom, looking at the stars. She bent down to pick up his mask, which had dropped to the ground … and she gasped.
It wasn’t the Duke. Saralinda ran from him, and he went after her, into the gardens. Bianca strained to see the man’s face, but the picture moved too quickly. But he had long, curly hair that had been hidden under his hat until now. It definitely wasn’t the Duke. Saralinda began speaking to him, holding his hands, shaking her head … and then somehow she was laughing. Saralinda and the bird-man embraced, and then kissed.
The scene changed again – a darkened chapel, empty but for three figures: Saralinda and Bianca’s father, exchanging rings, in front of an elderly priest. Bianca let out a tiny, happy sound. Her parents had been secretly married! Saralinda was wearing her plain apprentice’s clothes, and Bianca’s father was in a simple doublet with a sword at his belt. It was so romantic, it made her heart hurt.
Another scene: the Duke and Saralinda, deep in conversation. The Duke listened as Saralinda talked. She showed him her ring. The Duke smiled and shook Saralinda’s hands. He shook his head and his smile widened. He looked … relieved. He must never have truly wanted to remarry, Bianca thought. Her mother must have saved him from having to choose between his own heart and the good of his country …
And then, suddenly, Saralinda looked up. Joy and sadness mingled in Bianca’s heart as she saw her grandfather, Annunzio di Lombardi, enter the room with a grim and worried face. He said something to Saralinda and her smile vanished. The Duke bowed to them and they both ran out of the room.
The final scene showed Saralinda, standing in the doorway of a painting, looking down at the ring on her hand, and then closing the door behind her.
The parchment went blank. Bianca sat back with a sigh.
It was so wonderful to know, finally, what had happened. How her mother and father had met, and how they’d been torn apart. But her father … who was he? One of the nobles? Several of them had very curly hair, but none of them seemed to fit the glimpses the storia had given her of the man’s face.
Suddenly, the paint on the parchment welled up again, settling in the form of one final picture. A large and detailed painting of the rings her mother and father had exchanged. They were strong, simple bands with only one decoration: matching engravings of trailing ivy that wound around the inside and the outside of the rings.
Bianca drew back a little from the parchment, her heart beating faster.
That ring – she’d seen it before. She’d seen one just like it. But where? She shut her eyes, seeing it dangling in front of her, catching the light …
Bianca opened her eyes and stared at nothing for a moment.
‘Captain Raphaeli,’ she whispered.
He had definitely had a ring just like the one on the parchment in front of her. He’d told her, that same day, he knew that good and bad people came from Oscurita. He’d even said he was there when some people had come through the paintings in the Duke’s time.
Bianca frowned. Wouldn’t he have said something, when she was talking about visiting Oscurita? She’d mentioned enough times that her mother was Saralinda, the true Duchess.
But then, he had never known who she really was. Saralinda had told her that.
But, he knew she was from Oscurita, and he’d wanted to destroy all the paintings! How could he have done that, if he knew it was the only way he might one day be reunited with the woman he supposedly loved? He’d certainly loved her enough to marry her in secret, and to keep her ring with him even twelve years later …
Bianca shook her head. She was going around in circles. She would just have to find Raphaeli and make him talk to her. She would ask him outright – it was the only sensible way to get to the truth. If it wasn’t him, or he’d found the ring somewhere, or he didn’t want to know her or see her mother again … at least she would know.
There was a cry down in the courtyard, words Bianca couldn’t quite make out, and then the sound of running feet and a clatter of metal. She leapt to her feet, and almost collided with the maid as she pushed the door open.
‘Oh! Lady Bianca,’ she said. Her face was drawn and she looked scared. She bobbed a very short curtsey.
‘What’s going on?’ Bianca asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
‘My Lady, you have to come. The Dark City has started an invasion. We’re under attack!’
Chapter Seventeen
The streets of La Luminosa were bright with lamps and torches and crowded with people as Bianca ran past. She overtook a phalanx of guards in shining armour and a ragtag bunch of volunteers wearing whatever protective clothing they could get their hands on – leather blacksmith’s aprons, stiff woollen cloaks, ancient and rusty chainmail. They carried old axes, boat oars and butcher’s knives.
‘Unarmed citizens are to take to the canals,’ cried a young page on a street corner as Bianca sprinted past. He was pointing a frightened-looking man holding two small children towards a boat moored up nearby. ‘The boats will take you across the bay to San Marino. You’ll be safe on the island as long as we hold the city.’
There was a metallic clanging and Bianca had to dodge out of the way as the crowd in front of her parted to reveal an old woman hitting a frying pan with a wooden spoon, yelling, ‘Knives sharpened here!’ She was standing next to an even older man who was bent over a knife-sharpening wheel, grinding an axe until its blunt edges looked deadly once again.
There was a quiet roar of nervous chatter, orders being passed along, children crying and tearful farewells-for-now, but Bianca didn’t hear any actual sounds of battle. Yet.
‘Cavalry go around by the Via del Luce!’ One guard just outside the Museum Piazza was standing on a pile of boxes, directing the forces. ‘Pikemen and spears to the front, let them through! Swords, knives and clubs go around to the right and await orders from Lieutenant Forza.’ He took off his helmet and Bianca saw that he was young, barely older than Cosimo. He took a deep breath, shoved his helmet back on his head, and yelled out, ‘God bless the Duchess!’
‘God bless the Duchess!’ the crowd replied. ‘God bless Her Highness!’
Bianca stopped in her tracks, feeling sick. There was still no Duchess – nobody to lead La Luminosa into battle. Bianca had failed to find her.
As soon as Bianca entered the Museum Piazza, she heard the banging. It was coming from inside the museum. She slipped easily through the lines of soldiers and volunteers and climbed up onto the fountain in the middle of the piazza. The museum doors and windows had all been boarded up with thick, heavy oak boards – some of them were water-worn and Bianca wondered if they’d been torn out from the docks. The boards rattled and brick dust flew out in clouds as the Oscuritan forces inside the museum bashed at the doors – trying to get out and attack.
The army that was coming through the paintings was surrounded, penned in inside the museum – but Bianca feared that wouldn’t hold them for long. They still badly outnumbered the La Luminosan army. More Oscuritan soldiers could simply keep pouring through until they were overwhelmed.
In front of the building, Captain Raphaeli gleamed in his full golden plate armour. He was riding an enormous brown horse that was almost as armoured as he was. He trotted along the front line of the La Luminosan defence, his helmet under his arm, calling out orders and encouragement to his subordinates.
Bianca stared at him – his slightly beak-like nose, his noble bearing, and his thick curly hair.
Captain Raphaeli was her father. There was no more doubt in her mind. Even without a clear picture of his face, he was unmistakeably the man in the storia her mother had painted.
Bianca’s heart lurched. How could she tell him?
I’m your daughter. You’re my father. The woman you married twelve years ago in secret is my mother … and she’s the rightful Duchess of Oscurita …
The museum doors splintered, and the La Luminosan forces visibly recoiled, all of the volunteers and several of the soldiers taking half a step back.
‘Stand your ground!’ Captain Raphaeli shouted, turning his horse and drawing his sword. ‘Defend your homes!’
‘Captain, why don’t we burn the museum?’ asked one of the young soldiers nearby. ‘We’ve got them trapped!’
‘No,’ snapped Captain Raphaeli. ‘After everything I’ve gone through to save the art in there, I won’t burn it all now!’ Bianca’s heart swelled. ‘Anyway, the doors will be the first thing to burn, and then we definitely won’t be able to contain them. We have them surrounded, there’s nowhere they can go.’
Bianca jumped down from the fountain and sprinted through the crowd to the front line. Scraping her hair back from her face, she realised she shouldn’t tell him anything now. She couldn’t tell him that she was his daughter, and his wife was probably dead, and that she was responsible. Perhaps it would be better for him never to know, never to have his heart awakened and then broken in two.
Still, she had to say something to him.
‘Captain!’ she shouted. ‘Captain Raphaeli!’
Raphaeli looked down, and his face drained of colour for a moment. ‘Bianca! Lady Bianca, what are you doing? You can’t be here – this is a battlefield!’
Bianca ran up to him and grabbed the reins of his horse. She looked up at him, and then spoke quickly and quietly. ‘I … I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find the Duchess. My mother hadn’t heard anything about her being brought to Oscurita. She said she’s probably hidden in La Luminosa. And then … then … ’ She couldn’t do it. ‘I don’t know how to find her. I’m so sorry.’
‘None of this is your fault,’ Raphaeli said. ‘It’s because of you we even have this number of fighters. If you hadn’t warned us when the passages first reopened, we’d be overwhelmed.’ He shook his head. ‘If only we’d had more time to train some of these volunteers. They don’t know how to follow orders – they’ll just listen to whoever shouts loudest.’
‘It should be the Duchess leading them into battle,’ said Bianca.
‘You’re right.’ Captain Raphaeli’s horse danced a few steps away as the Oscuritans bashed into the museum doors again. Raphaeli didn’t blink. ‘I hate the idea of her fighting in battle, but she’d be worth twenty soldiers if she was here. I had some people climb up to the high windows on the museum and look inside. Edita’s in there on a black charger, and her people are clearly rallied around her.’
‘Is it … is it hopeless?’ Bianca asked.
‘Nothing is hopeless,’ Captain Raphaeli said firmly. ‘But I’d give my right arm for a hundred more soldiers,’ he added. ‘Or for Duchess Catriona to be here. Even Filpepi’s painted doll would do! The people need to see what they’re fighting for.’
An idea hit Bianca so hard she almost rocked back on her heels from the force of it. ‘Filpepi’s painted Duchess … ’ she breathed. She looked up at the Captain – at her father – and forced a smile. ‘I think I have a plan,’ she said.
‘Be careful, Bianca!’ Captain Raphaeli called after her as she turned and ran off. ‘Keep away from the fighting!’
Bianca hurried out of the crowd and out of the piazza, pausing as she passed the young guard who was still giving orders to new arrivals. She caught her breath and stared up at the stars, trying to think her plan through.
If Filpepi can bring paintings to life, I can too. I can make new soldiers.
But it was all very well to know that it was possible. She had to be practical. The best supply of paint and tools was, by far, di Lombardi’s secret workshop. But how could she get there? All the paintings were in the museum, and even if she could get into the passages, they would be swarming with Oscuritan soldiers. She could fly in through the skylight, if she sprouted wings – the flying machine was still inside the studio.
‘Bianca!’ That was Marco’s voice. Bianca looked around, unable to see him at first, until suddenly the crowd parted and she spotted him waving at her. She ran over.
He was standing with his father, Master Xavier, who was carrying his big wooden staff with the round orb on the end. Bianca had never quite noticed how heavy it looked before, or how easily it could be used as a club. Most of the rest of the troupe were there too – Olivia was wearing silver-painted wooden costume armour and carrying a prop scimitar that’d been sharpened until its edge glinted, and Bianca saw the fire twins, Carmina and Valentino, and half a dozen others wielding weapons that looked like they’d been cobbled together from props and bits of staging.
‘Bianca, there you are,’ said Cosimo. Bianca turned to see him standing beside the tumblers. Behind him stood Lucia, Ezio, Gennaro and Rosa. They were rather worryingly well armed with palette knives, hammers, chisels and shears.
‘Where are the other apprentices? Are they safe?’
‘They’ve gone to the island,’ Lucia said. ‘And that’s where you need to go too!’
‘I agree,’ said Master Xavier. He looked down at Marco with a mixture of pride and abject terror. ‘And please take my son with you – by force, if necessary.’
‘I told you,’ Marco said firmly, ‘I have to help protect the city!’
‘Actually, I do want Marco,’ Bianca said. ‘Marco, where’s the underwater craft?’
‘Still moored up by the Bridge of Cats,’ said Marco.
‘Can we use it to get into the secret workshop?’
Marco’s face lit up. ‘Yes! We can go in through the trapdoor into the canal!’
‘We need to go, right now – I’ll explain later.’
Master Xavier still looked concerned. ‘Just be careful in that thing. Despite what Marco tells me, being stuck in a sealed vessel at the bottom of a canal doesn’t sound safe.’
He and Olivia gathered Marco into a tight three-way hug. Bianca ran forward and gave each of the apprentices a huge hug in turn – even Lucia – although she saved her hardest squeeze for Cosimo.
‘Good luck,’ she said.
She grabbed Marco’s hand and dragged him back down the street towards the Bridge of Cats.
‘What are you going to do?’ Marco asked, running the length of di Lombardi’s workshop with an armful of more wicked-looking tools that could be used as weapons, and loading them into the underwater craft.
Bianca was mixing paints frantically, creating the strongest animare she could. She already had two large jars of glowing liquid that sloshed and jumped around the jars with a mind of its own, but she had a feeling there was something missing.
‘I can’t paint a whole army,’ she muttered. ‘To paint a soldier that’s convincing enough for the animare to lift it off the page – I don’t have that kind of time. And even if I could get the painted men out of the painting, they’d only be able to follow moves I made with the brush.’
Bianca almost dropped her paintbrush as a mad idea flashed into her mind.
‘Marco,’ she said softly. Marco looked up. ‘I’m going to do something a little bit mad. It might be dangerous. I … have no idea if I can undo it.’
‘You’re going to make soldiers out of paint!’ Marco cried.
