Digesting this one was going to take more than a few seconds. He wasn't quite sure what to say about Marco, and looked at Ambrosino for some clue. It was no secret--at least, he'd not been told it was--that Marco Valdosta was now openly under Dorma protection and sponsorship. But it wasn't something that too many people knew yet, either, outside the Case Vecchie circles. Ambrosino knew, but that didn't mean he wanted the other runners to know.
'Why don't you and the milady take a walk, kid,' Ambrosino said. 'Make this the last run of the day. The Montescue are still a great house.'
Lord and Saints--That 'Montescue?' The ones that owned the huge palace and shipyard down on the landward side of Cannaregio? It wasn't in the best of repair maybe, but still. They were Case Vecchie. Case Vecchie longi!
'--and it can't hurt to tell her what she wants to know.'
'Yes, milord.' Benito replied faintly. 'Milady?'
She led him out, into the late-afternoon bustle and clamor on the shadowed walkway, maintaining a strained and complete silence. They moved with the flow of the crowd all the way down to the bridge, without her saying a word.
Finally, she stopped in the little alcove where the bridge met the walkway, a nook built in the side of the building so that people with long burdens to maneuver off the bridge onto the walkway could do so. She finally faced him there, and cleared her throat awkwardly. 'Maria said I must talk to you.'
Benito shook his head, still unbelieving. 'Kat . . . Montescue?'
She grimaced. 'Katerina Montescue, when I'm wearing these clothes. Kat the Spook when I'm . . . like you know me.'
Benito swallowed. 'But why? How . . .'
She shrugged. 'Some things family have to do. And the Montescue are . . . few. There is nobody else. And I grew up playing around the boatyard. Playing in the boats. My mama wasn't Case Vecchie. The Negri aren't even curti. They're new money. Grandpapa Negri still rowed his own boat. I think Mama encouraged me to be a tomboy because . . . because it upset the Montescue cousins.' She pulled a rueful face. 'Back when there were some.'
That left an awkward silence. 'Um. Seeing as old Ambrosino said I could take off now . . . shall we go and have a glass of wine. Er. I gotta explain to you . . . 'Marco Felluci' is really . . .'
'Marco Valdosta,' said Katerina sadly. 'Come on. You're right. I could use a whole bottle of grappa, never mind a glass of wine.' She pulled a wry face. 'Except I don't like it. Somewhere quiet, Benito. I'm sticking the Montescue name out into public view enough just doing this. Maria said it was important. So important she posted a note under our water-door. Her writing's not great.' That produced an almost-smile. 'It took Giuseppe until this morning to give it to me. He thought he was protecting me. Madelena had a fight with him about it and made him come and deliver it.'
Benito didn't know who these people were. But he knew a private place, close enough. He nodded. 'Follow me.' He led off to a little wine-cellar a hundred yards off. Inside it was dark and smoky, and still further privacy was offered by little cubicles. The sound was oddly damped within. 'Traders use this place for negotiations. The partitions are double walled and filled with wool.'
Kat and he sat down and the padrone wordlessly brought them a carafe of wine and a bowl of anchovy- stuffed olives. 'Supposed to make you thirsty,' said Benito, cheerfully taking three. 'Now . . . if you already know that Marco is Marco Valdosta, what else can I tell you?'
Kat chewed her lip. 'I . . . sent him a very angry letter, when I found out he was getting married to Angelina Dorma. I thought, I, I, well, he, I mean, er . . .'
Benito had to help out. There was some fun in seeing Kat tongue-tied, but he felt sorry for her anyway. And it was too late now, even if she was Katerina Montescue and not Kat 'Trouble' the Spook. 'Was two-timing you?'
'Yes,' she said, her voice hardly audible. 'Maria--I saw her early this morning--said it absolutely wasn't like that. She said I had to talk to you. Even if it was too late now. It's taken me all day to screw up the courage to walk into Ventuccio and ask for you.'
Benito took a deep breath. He didn't really know how to handle this. But honesty to his brother seemed only fair, especially as Maria had already muddied the waters. Women! They made things complicated.
'Marco wasn't seeing Angelina when he was seeing you. He . . . well, never mind, but I promise, word of honor, swear to God, he never even saw her face in the last three months. Not until he moved into Dorma.'
'I know,' said Kat, dully. 'And he's married now. Anyway it would never have worked. He's Valdosta. I'm Montescue. Our Families are enemies to the death. And I suppose it was the honorable thing for him to do, even if they had split up. He had to marry her. She was carrying his baby.'
Benito choked on his wine. He spluttered.
