Siege by Jack Hight Page B

he stopped talking last night. Hasn’t said a word since. Loretta, the midwife, says that is a good sign. She says the fever will break now.’
    ‘And what does the doctor say?’
    ‘The doctor says that this is the beginning of the end. The no-good bastard seems to think that William is as good as dead.’
    ‘Then we shall have to hope that the midwife is in the right,’ Longo said. ‘You will stay here at the villa until you are healed. Have Maria look after you. I will return to Genoa to see to William and take care of this Grimaldi mess.’
    Shortly after Longo’s arrival, William’s fever finally broke, and the boy woke from his long delirium with his senses intact. Longo watched him consume enough pasta to feed ten men, and then left for the Grimaldi palazzo to make his peace.
    Despite the hostility between the families, Longo was greeted politely and presented immediately to Niccolò Grimaldi – the father of the recently deceased Carlo and the head of the family. The elder Grimaldi was a small man. Despite his sixty years, his lean, tan face was hardly wrinkled, though his hair was a wild mix of grey and black, like the ash from recently burned wood. He was seated on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, drinking a thick black liquid that Longo recognized as coffee, an eastern delicacy. Grimaldi motioned for Longo to sit. Once the formalities were ended, Grimaldi moved right to the point.
    ‘You have come to make peace between our families,’ he said. ‘I am an old man. I treasure peace, but it is hard-bought after so much blood.’
    ‘Surely more blood is not the answer,’ Longo replied. ‘I am a warrior, Signor Grimaldi. I have fought more battles than most men have seen years. I do not fear bloodshed, but I have no quarrel with your family, nor with you. Your son was killed fairly, honourably. Let that be an end to it.’
    Grimaldi nodded and took a long sip of coffee before he spoke again. ‘No doubt you are right. Still, I have lost a son, Signor Giustiniani. Nothing can replace him. Nothing can repay that loss. But perhaps if I were to find a new son, then I could forgive. By joining our families, we might end this bloodshed. You are not married, I recollect?’ Longo nodded. ‘Very well, shall I introduce my daughter, Julia?’
    ‘I would be delighted,’ Longo replied. Julia was ushered in and introduced, a shy girl of twelve. It was clear that she had been preparing for this meeting from the moment Longo entered the courtyard, for she was dressed in her very best – a flowing gown of white silk embroidered with interlacing red roses – and her hair was braided with ribbons and twisted into an intricate knot atop her head. She was thin and still flat-chested, but she had delicate features and looked likely to grow into a beautiful woman. She curtsied, blushed demurely as Longo complimented her fine dress, and was dismissed.
    ‘She is fertile, no doubt, like her mother,’ Grimaldi said. ‘And a beauty as well, yes?’
    ‘Indeed, signor,’ Longo replied.
    ‘Good. Then you do not object to marrying her?’
    Longo paused. As his chamberlain Nicolo often reminded him, none of Longo’s properties would be secure until he produced an heir. Julia was young, fertile and certainly attractive enough. A female touch would be welcome in his household, not to mention in his bed. Most importantly, the marriage would transform the budding feud into an alliance with a powerful family. Longo’s feelings were beside the point. It was his duty to marry Julia Grimaldi. ‘You honour me, Signor Grimaldi,’ Longo said at last. ‘I would be overjoyed to marry your daughter.’
    ‘Very well,’ Grimaldi said, rising. ‘Let me embrace you as my new son. But I am not one of these Turks, you understand, to send my daughter away so young. I trust you will not object to a delay in the marriage until she is more of a woman?’
    ‘I am very much of your mind on the matter, signor. I would be happy to