Free The Boy Who Wept Blood by Den Patrick Page B

ant swarms flew past. I think she was one of those disciples of Santa Maria. She was talking about portents and—’
    He got no further. Camelia ushered him out into the courtyard, face serious.
    ‘Why are we out here?’ He’d spilt wine over his sleeve in the rush to leave the kitchen. It was already warm outside despite the previous night’s storm; by midday it would be stifling. Camelia took his arm and began a stately but determined walk away from the kitchens.
    ‘A good deal of the cittadini in there are enthralled with the church of Santa Maria. If they hear you talking disparagingly about one of the disciples, well …’ She snatched a glance over her shoulder at the kitchen doors. No one had followed them out.
    ‘Santa Maria, really?’ Dino rolled his eyes. ‘I thought it was just popular with the cittadini on the rural estates.’
    ‘Well, you’re wrong.’
    ‘But here? In Demesne?’
    ‘It’d do you good to appreciate that the cittadini need something to hold on to. We don’t have apartments and clothes and drakes and titles like you do.’ Cittadini . Anea’s gift to the people. They were no longer commoners, but citizens. Camelia never said ‘common folk’ or ‘country folk’; after all, she was one of them.
    ‘But all of that Santa Maria stuff is just a concoction,’ whispered Dino. ‘It’s odd bits of myths found in the library welded to old stories and—’
    ‘Exactly. Two different things joined together to make something better.’
    ‘But it’s all horse shit, Camelia.’
    ‘Your sword.’ She tapped the scabbard with an index finger. ‘It’s not made from one type of metal, is it?’
    ‘Well no, but an iron core welded to a steel blade are hardly the same thing, you know?’
    ‘ Porca miseria .’ She threw her hands up. ‘I wish I’d had all the answers at twenty-three the way you so clearly do.’
    ‘I’m twenty-two.’
    She stopped walking and closed her eyes, pressing one hand to her forehead.
    ‘Sometimes you’re so much like Lucien it’s as if he never left.’
    ‘But Santa Maria is horse shit.’
    ‘Look, my lord , there’s plenty about the cittadini believing in Santa Maria that makes your life easier.’ Dino opened his mouth to speak but Camelia silenced him, one index finger held up in warning. ‘If you’d only just pipe down and see it.’
    ‘I am an ear waiting to be filled with your wisdom.’ He sketched a bow.
    ‘You’re not so big I can’t give you a clip round the ear.’
    ‘I’m sorry. You were saying?’
    ‘You need to appreciate people are still confused about all the business with the king. For a long time he was like a god.’
    ‘Camelia, he was not a god, He was a motherf—’
    ‘Dino! I didn’t say he was a god, I said he was like a god, at least in people’s imaginations. He’s gone now and people have started wondering what it all means, why we’re here. All of those things.’
    ‘So they’ve invented a new god. A female one.’
    ‘You can’t blame them.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘Not after the things the king did. The cittadini want to believe in something again, something nurturing.’
    ‘I see your point.’ Dino looked around at the staff in the courtyard. ‘But that still doesn’t excuse the fact this stuff’s just made up.’
    ‘Well, they’ve found references and added in some morality and symbolism. Now they’re saving up to build a church.’
    ‘I’d rather they were loyal to Anea than to some fictional deity.’
    ‘They revere Anea just as much. Look at everything she’s done for the cittadini : the library, better medicines, better prices for the farmers, shorter hours, no more disappearances. Some even whisper Anea is the herald of Santa Maria. An avatar or something.’
    ‘That’s insane,’ he grunted. ‘They’d say different if they’d seen her killing an assassin with her hairpin.’
    ‘Perhaps. Did you know they sell veils in the market now? Some women even take vows of silence so they