Free The Boy Who Wept Blood by Den Patrick

messenger. ‘Long time ago. When I was a boy. I don’t remember there being so many though. Made all kinds of folk anxious. Not just the superstitious ones.’
    ‘A gutter priestess told me it was a portent. No wonder people are so skittish with that kind of nonsense being peddled around.’
    Nardo smiled again, then lit the pipe. ‘Huh. Out of sorts today?’
    Dino released a breath and massaged the back of his head and neck with one hand.
    ‘There’s too much going on. Anea doesn’t know how to conclude the Allattamento business, then there’s the mass theft at the market. Now ants are falling from the sky. Figlio di puttanta. What next? How much more of this can we take?’
    Nardo had the sense to leave the question hanging between them. In time it dissipated like his pipe smoke. Sounds from the kitchen intensified as more workers arrived.
    ‘And you?’ said the messenger.
    ‘Me?’ Dino shrugged. ‘I just want things to be simpler. I’d like to get back to teaching. Three years I’ve been a bodyguard. Three years not knowing if it’s safe enough to leave her unguarded.’
    ‘I’d say we’ve not reached that day yet.’
    ‘That’s an admirable talent for understatement you’ve got there, Nardo.’
    ‘I learned it from you, my lord.’ The messenger winked. Dino sniggered. ‘I’d best be getting on,’ said the messenger. ‘Send for me if you need me, eh?’ He clapped the younger man on the shoulder and departed, leaving the Orfano in the shade of the porch with his thoughts. It wasn’t long before he sat on a barrel and felt his eyelids grow heavy.

9
    Fictional Deities
– 15 Giugno 325
    Dino woke to a tangle of voices, interrupting and contradicting each other, punctuated by the odd laugh. ‘And then a girl fell into his grave.’
    Dino smirked as the legend of Angelicola’s funeral began to grow. He remained in the kitchen porch, shielded from the sun as it climbed into the sky.
    ‘It was Mea di Leone,’ added a second voice. ‘I heard she had a heart attack. The shock, you see. Terrible it was. She was so young.’
    ‘She was afraid of spiders.’ The first voice again.
    ‘But they were ants.’ Another voice – deeper, male.
    ‘Well, she didn’t know that, did she?’
    ‘Aye, terrible.’
    ‘I heard it was a haunting. Duke Prospero getting his own back on that wicked wife of his.’
    ‘Aye. Slut. And at her age. Makes you fear for your sons.’ Dino stifled a smile and continued to listen.
    ‘Duke Prospero summoned a plague of ants?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘I thought he was dead.’
    ‘He is dead!’
    ‘Still, I wouldn’t say no to the capo , eh?’
    ‘You wouldn’t say no to anyone in a uniform.’
    Raucous laughter. And so on.
    The elaborations and retellings amused Dino at first. There was something that reduced the shocking arrival of the ant swarms to the merely prosaic when overheard like this. But gradually he tired of it.
    ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if the duke rises from his tomb and comes back to the castle to cause some mischief.’
    ‘I hear Little Luc was in the mausoleum, talking to himself.’
    ‘Ah, shame.’
    Little Luc was an appellation given to Dino by the staff. They’d chosen the name long before, when he’d emulated Lucien’s long hair and choice of clothes. That the two Orfani looked similar also played its part. He’d not heard the name for some time, years perhaps.
    ‘Wants to get himself a women that one. Porca miseria , if Lucien can manage it with no ears then Dino will have no trouble.’
    ‘Aye, I reckon there’s a few here that wouldn’t mind a chance with Lord Erudito.’
    ‘Perhaps he can get cosy with Lady Stephania.’ A male voice. ‘I hear she’s in need of something beneath her skirt besides her own hand.’
    More laughter.
    Displeasure spiked through Dino like a stiletto, forcing the air from his lungs. He lurched upright and stalked into the kitchen, grey eyes flat, fists clenched.
    ‘It may interest you to know,’ he boomed,