The Painted War (3 page)

Around the corner Bianca heard a rhythmical, metallic clanking echoing from the other side of the wall. She put her eye to another small hole in the stone wall and stifled a gasp.

She'd found the soldiers! Bianca and her mother were in the walls surrounding the enormous courtyard, looking down into it from above. The courtyard was lit with more crackling thunder lamps. Their dancing, flickering blue-and-white light glinted off the polished silver armour and wickedly sharp-looking spears of hundreds and hundreds of soldiers. They were lined up in neat rows, standing elbow to elbow and running drills in perfect unison. Her chest seemed to tighten, squeezing her heart painfully. She was sure that La Luminosa didn't have as many soldiers as this – certainly not trained, armed and ready for battle. She prayed that Captain Raphaeli was doing something about that right now  … 

Saralinda gently put a hand on Bianca's shoulder and led her to the end of the corridor, where there was a wooden door. ‘We have to be brave, now,' she whispered. ‘We're heading for the battlements. But first, we need to pass by the door to the throne room.'

Bianca pulled away and stared at her mother, eyes widening.

‘There's no other way,' whispered Saralinda. ‘We just have to walk past the doors with confidence, and draw no attention to ourselves.'

Bianca felt as if she'd swallowed a stick of di Lombardi's chalk and it'd stuck in her throat, drying it and making it impossible to breathe properly.

Saralinda slipped the key into the lock. The wooden door creaked as she opened it, painfully loud. Saralinda stepped out and Bianca screwed up her courage and followed.

They came out in an alcove that opened onto the wide hall right outside the throne room. Bianca shrank back as she saw that the hall was busy – servants, guards and Edita's courtiers crossed the black-and-white tiled floor, most walking quickly with their heads down.

Are they hurrying to prepare for the invasion?

Saralinda took off her black woollen shawl and handed it to Bianca, who folded it and draped it over her head, hoping it'd hide the fact that she and her mother looked so alike.

‘Won't they recognise you?' she whispered.

‘I've been locked away for so long,' Saralinda said. All the same, she ran her hands through her long hair so that it swung forward over her eyes. Then she took a deep breath and walked out of the alcove with a quick step, keeping her eyes to the ground. Bianca tried to copy her, imagining she was a servant with an important task to be done somewhere else in the castle.

Brighter light spilled out through the huge doors to the throne room, and Bianca heard voices that made her stomach clench and her hands shake: Duchess Edita, talking with the traitors Piero Filpepi and Baron da Russo.

I am a servant, I am allowed to be here, I'm just going about my business  … 
Bianca repeated the thoughts over and over, tugging the shawl a little lower over her forehead, hoping to hide her face. And then she stepped into the light. Bianca couldn't help herself: she looked into the throne room. Edita was surrounded by more guards in glinting silver armour, listening with narrowed eyes as the Baron da Russo spoke to her. She was turning something over and over in her hands that glinted as it spun.

My medallion!
The one di Lombardi had left to Bianca in his will, the one Edita had stolen from her and used to open the passages between the two cities. Bianca gritted her teeth and her pace slowed to a shuffle. If only she could listen and find out exactly what Edita was planning  … 

A frantic movement distracted Bianca and she looked up to see Saralinda at the foot of the steps, beckoning her to move, her face drawn and fearful. Bianca took a few quick half-running steps forward and Saralinda held up her hand with a wince. Just as Bianca remembered to walk smoothly, Edita's voice rang out.

‘Who was that? Shut up, da Russo. Who's that child? Guards, fetch her to me at once!'

Bianca swallowed a curse and broke into a run. Saralinda hitched up her skirt and started up the stairs, hesitating every few steps until Bianca had drawn level with her. ‘Up, then left, to the long gallery,' she said as Bianca passed her.

There was a clanking of armour behind them. ‘Halt!'

‘Don't look back!' Saralinda said. Bianca fixed her eyes on the landing at the top of the stairs and sprinted for it, leaping up the stairs as if they were made of hot iron. The clanking got louder. She grabbed the stone balustrade at the top and pulled herself up onto the landing, looking back for just a second to see six armoured guards rushing towards the stairs, spear-points first.

Saralinda grabbed Bianca's hand and dragged her away. Turning left, they ran along the landing, passing the open doors of rooms and shoving aside courtiers who turned to stare at them as they hurtled by. Bianca's shawl flapped behind her like the wings of a great black bird.

A bewildered servant stood between them and the door to the long gallery, a pitcher of water in her hands. Saralinda snatched the pitcher as they passed and threw it to the floor. It smashed, splashing water across the smooth stone floor. Bianca didn't look back, but as they reached the end of the long corridor she heard the clanking armour hit the ground with a crash and a volley of Oscuritan curses. Saralinda tore open the door to the long gallery, and Bianca grinned up at her mother as they ran through.

She ran right into something hard, and staggered back. Saralinda gasped and put her arms around Bianca's shoulders to stop her from falling. Bianca looked up: from the shiny silver breastplate engraved with trailing ivy, to the deep blue cloak spilling over the guard's shoulders, to the grimly set mouth and narrowed eyes, and finally to the tip of his viciously pointed spear. The door swung shut behind them with a heavy and very final
thud
.

Bianca drew herself up, showing the guardsman her best brave face. There was a fairly good chance he wouldn't run her through where she stood. Edita would probably want them alive – for now. She sucked in a deep breath and stepped in front of Saralinda.

‘Run,' she told her mother.

Bianca heard the quiet click of a key turning in a lock. She glanced back. Saralinda had locked the door behind them.

She's right, the two of us can take him!
Bianca readied herself to grab hold of his spear  …  but the guard's grim face melted into a smile. He pointed his spear towards the ground and gave a low bow.

‘Your Highness,' he said. ‘I take it we're just in time.'

‘Perfect, as always, Lieutenant Pietro,' said Saralinda. She stepped past Bianca, who watched with a slightly glazed smile as her mother gave the guardsman a quick, friendly hug.

‘You're too kind, Your Highness,' said Pietro.

Relief flooded through Bianca. ‘So, we're OK?'

Saralinda grinned. ‘Bianca, this is Lieutenant Pietro – he's with the Resistance. He joined the castle guard as a spy. Pietro, this is my daughter, Bianca.'

‘Nice to meet you,' Bianca said, and felt herself blush a tiny bit as Pietro swept a low bow to her. He smiled as he straightened up and opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by clattering, banging and shouting from behind the door.

‘Open this door! In the name of the Duchess!' shouted one of the guards on the other side.

‘Quickly,' said Pietro, lowering his voice. ‘They'll be coming around the other way.' He turned with a sweep of his blue cloak and beckoned for Bianca and her mother to follow. They hurried about halfway down the long gallery until Pietro stopped and tapped a couple of times on the wall, then nodded to Saralinda. Bianca spotted the slight crack in the plaster just before her mother opened the hidden door with the magical paintbrush key. There were dark, tightly spiralling stairs beyond going both up and down. Pietro led them down. A hot, damp blast of air hit Bianca in the face as she turned a corner. There had to be laundry going on nearby – she'd always helped Mistress Quinta with the washing when there was a lot to do, and she'd never forget the distinctive smell of steam, ash and bubbling starch.

Sure enough, Pietro pushed the door open onto a deserted room lined with six huge tubs full of soaking linen. They'd emerged through another of Oscurita's hidden doors – real, but painted to look just like the wall.

‘Hurry, the servants could be back any minute,' said Pietro.

At the end of the room there was a drying rack piled high with neatly folded dark cloth, and Saralinda started searching through the piles. She pulled out an itchy-looking piece of grey wool and tossed it to Bianca, who unfolded it and discovered it was a headdress.

‘It'll be a better disguise than that old shawl,' Saralinda said. ‘Here, put this on over your dress.' She held out a matching plain grey servant's dress and Bianca dragged it on over her head, grateful that it completely covered her cream La Luminosan clothes. ‘Now, hold these.' She held out a heavy pile of folded black sheets and Bianca took them. ‘There – now you're a laundry girl.'

Saralinda picked out a dress for herself, just as plain and grey as Bianca's, but she added a thick black leather apron and tucked her long hair inside a close-fitting cook's cap.

‘How do we look?' she asked Pietro.

‘Wonderfully ordinary, Your Highnesses,' Pietro replied. ‘Are you ready?'

Saralinda raised her eyebrows at Bianca and she adjusted her headdress once more, and then nodded. Then Pietro opened the laundry door and led the way out through the servants' quarters.

Just like the rest of the castle, the tight corridors and dim rooms that they passed through were crowded with people bustling about, getting ready for  …  something. Bianca tried to keep her eyes focused on her armful of laundry, but she couldn't help pricking her ears for any hint of Edita's plan.

Pietro strode in front of them and they followed in his wake as the other servants sprang out of his way. One girl was about her age, wearing the same grey servant's uniform and headdress. She gave a slightly annoyed roll of her eyes as Pietro passed and Bianca realised that the girl's life probably wasn't much different from the life of a servant in the palace of La Luminosa.

Edita may be wicked but if this girl refused to work for her how long would it take her to starve?
The thought nagged at Bianca as she bustled past the girl and followed Pietro through the hot, busy kitchens and out into a chilly courtyard full of stamping horses and scurrying stablehands.
Loyal or not, these are our subjects. They're not my enemies.

‘The Baron's steed is ready,' said a voice. ‘But I don't understand – are you
sure
we don't need to prepare more than one?'

Bianca almost tripped over a cobblestone as she looked around the stableyard, searching for the source of the voice. She found it – a young woman in a leather jerkin and high boots was standing by a pitch-black steed, which wore a bright ruby-red bridle and a saddle encrusted with jewels.

Bianca frowned, ducking behind a tall mounting-block to hide her face while she listened. She didn't know anything about horses in battle, but she was sure this tack was a lot more flashy than protective. Would the Baron really be riding it into a fight?

She risked peering around the block. The stablehand was talking to a man who was dressed as showily as the horse, in the Oscuritan fashion Bianca had come to know – a nearly-black blue robe that swept the ground behind him, trimmed with very bright blue silk.

‘Are you questioning your orders, stable girl?' he sneered.

‘No, sir! One horse for the Baron's sortie, sir!' The stablehand snapped to attention and fired off a salute.

‘You, laundry girl!' Pietro suddenly snapped, and Bianca almost dropped her laundry in a pile of horse dung. She looked up and saw Pietro giving her an exaggerated angry look. ‘Stop slacking. Mistress Flavia wants those sheets at once!' he barked.

‘Yes, sir!' Bianca yelped, and ran after him.

Saralinda was waiting for them at a small door on the other side of the courtyard. ‘What were you doing?' she muttered to Bianca.

‘That woman said something about a horse for the Baron,' Bianca whispered back. ‘I didn't hear enough,' she added with a frown. ‘They said they only wanted one horse, but that doesn't make any sense  …  Why would they only want one horse for a whole army?'

CLONG! CLONG! CLONG!

Bianca looked up, her heart in her mouth, as a bell rang out somewhere above her.

‘That's the alarm,' said Pietro. ‘Go, quickly.' He opened the door and Saralinda slipped out.

Bianca cast a last glance back at the glossy black horse, then heard voices shouting. She caught the words ‘pretender', ‘escape', and ‘find them'.

Bianca quickly turned away and followed Saralinda out of the courtyard, down a dark and steeply sloping cobbled alleyway where black-thorned ivy grew between the bricks of the walls. Light crackled at the end of the alley, and Bianca sucked in a deep breath of cool air as she stepped onto an ordinary street outside the castle.

If anything, the bells sounded even louder outside the castle. As Bianca, Saralinda and Pietro crossed a bridge over the canal, they passed a pair of women carrying black wicker baskets who'd stopped to stare up at the bell tower, muttering to each other. Then they hurried on their way, their pale Oscuritan faces taking on a sickly greenish look.

‘Why do they look so afraid?' Bianca whispered to her mother. ‘It's not them Edita's looking for.'

‘The bells mean trouble for somebody,' said Saralinda grimly. ‘And if Edita doesn't find whoever she's hunting, she'll take their friends, or their relatives, or just some poor soul who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

Bianca glanced at Pietro, and didn't find any comfort in his face. The muscles in his jaw worked as he gritted his teeth.

‘We were hoping to get you out as soon as we heard Edita had opened the passages, but she doubled the guard on the Tower. I'd hoped to have longer to get you to  … ' He walked around a corner in front of her and then backed up so quickly she almost walked into him. He held his spear out to stop Saralinda turning the corner. ‘Wait here,' he whispered.

Bianca and Saralinda huddled close to the wall as he adjusted his cloak and walked on, at a sort of hurried strolling pace.

‘Ho there, friend,' Bianca heard him call out. ‘What's all this racket from the castle? Has a prisoner escaped?'

‘Haven't you heard? The pretender's got out of her tower. All units are ordered to drop everything until she's found,' replied a woman's voice.

‘God's teeth!' Pietro swore.

Bianca edged carefully to the corner of the building and risked a glance down the street. Pietro was striding towards a soldier who stood below a thunder lamp, her silver armour flickering and reflecting the crackling bolts of light. Bianca pulled back quickly, listening hard to catch Pietro's conversation.

‘The daughter might be with her, too,' said the guard.

‘That little brat's given us no end of trouble,' said Pietro. ‘I'd like to wring her scrawny neck.'

‘You might get to,' chuckled the guard. ‘New orders from the Duchess – she wants them brought back, and she doesn't much care if they're breathing.'

Bianca shuddered. Saralinda put her arms around Bianca's shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. Bianca wished she felt more reassured.

‘Humph,' Pietro chuckled. ‘Let's hope they put up a fight, then! I'd better be off and get my troops together.'

‘Want some company? I'm headed back to barracks myself.' Bianca clenched her fists and held her breath, ready to turn and run – but Pietro spoke again.

‘Nah. Better split up. We can cover more ground.'

‘True. Good luck, then,' said the guard, and Bianca risked another brief glance into the street to see Pietro turn back towards them. Mercifully, the guard turned the other way and her dark cloak swished around a corner and vanished.

Pietro hurried back to them. ‘That was close,' he said. ‘I'm afraid I have to get back to my rounds or I'll be missed. Can you make it from here, My Lady?'

‘I can,' said Saralinda. ‘But first, let's get Bianca home.'

‘Hey,' Bianca protested, ‘I'm not leaving you now!'

‘Oh yes you are,' her mother said.

‘But I can't leave you here and not even know if you're safe!'

‘Dear Bianca,' said Saralinda. She reached up and tucked a strand of Bianca's hair back behind her servant's headdress. The warmth of her hand on Bianca's cold cheek made Bianca shiver. ‘If they find you here, they will kill you. I'd rather you were far away from me and safe, than dead by my side. I know you know it's the only sensible course,' she added, with a look that cut deep into Bianca's heart.

Her mother was right – Bianca did know this was the only way. But still, she
couldn't
go – she felt as if her shoes were weighed down with heavy rocks.

‘I can't,' she said. ‘Not without some idea of how to find you again.'

‘If you have absolutely no choice,' her mother said, ‘go to Dante's Grocery, near the Cathedral – that's just near the square with Father's statue. Do you think you can find it?'

Bianca thought hard – when she'd visited Oscurita in her dreams she'd found her way to the statue of Annunzio di Lombardi, surrounded by glowing
lux aurumque
flowers. She was sure she could make her way back and find this grocer. She nodded.

‘Go into Dante's shop and say “God bless the true Duchess” to Dante. Then cross yourself like this.' Saralinda touched her eyes, her heart and both shoulders in turn. Bianca repeated the motion. ‘He'll lead you to the Resistance.'

Bianca nodded.

‘Promise me you won't come back here until the danger has passed.'

‘I promise.'

‘Good girl,' said Saralinda, and her eyes suddenly welled with tears. Lieutenant Pietro looked away politely as she gathered Bianca back into another hug. ‘Please be safe,' she whispered, pressing the paintbrush key into Bianca's hand. ‘I couldn't bear it if –' She broke off as a sound that chilled Bianca to the bone filled the air – a rhythmical, metallic clanking.

Soldiers!

Bianca pulled away quickly; there was no time. She had to leave.

‘God bless the true Duchess,' said Pietro, with a wry smile, and turned to walk towards the approaching sound with a sweep of his cloak. Saralinda placed a single kiss on the top of Bianca's head and hurried off in the opposite direction along the canalside. She didn't look back.

Bianca steeled herself, brushed down her servant's costume, and strode out into the pools of lamplight towards the bridge over the canal.

She glanced back across the canal as she got to the other side, and saw the column of gleaming silver soldiers marching down the street, right past where she'd been standing with Saralinda and Pietro. The sharp points of the soldiers' spears glinted, and Bianca felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she imagined those soldiers rushing through the streets of La Luminosa.

She had to get back and tell Duchess Catriona and Captain Raphaeli what she'd seen. But her heart sank as she realised she had no more proof than she had before.

Will they ever believe me?