Page 60 of Bloodlines and Birthright

Oscar ran after them, Miss Wheeler and me not far behind. We took the steep path into the village rather than the winding road which the riders would be forced to take for their horses’ sakes. Even so, they were nowhere in sight when we reached the piazza. Their horses’ reins dangled, skimming on the cobblestones. The two Scala brothers were in a hurry and hadn’t tied them up.

Maria and some of the village women gathered in the piazza, whispering behind their hands, watching the Colombo house with anxious, curious stares. The two men who’d been repairing their fishing net the day before grabbed the loose reins and led the horses to a water trough. Upon seeing us, Maria approached. She spoke quickly to Miss Wheeler.

No translation was necessary. We could hear crashing inside the house as furniture was overturned. Pots and pans clattered as they fell onto the floor, and the abbot shouted at the top of his lungs. His shouts were followed by Signore Scala’s voice, pleading. Whatever he was saying, it wasn’t getting through to his enraged brother.

Although I didn’t understand a word they said, I knew we’d got it wrong. Signore Scala wasn’t the murderer. The abbot had hammered their half-brother to death.

Oscar stepped toward the house, but Miss Wheeler caught his arm. “Take those men with you.”

Maria approached the two fishermen who’d led the horses to the trough, but they shook their heads. Despite her pleas, they refused to get involved in a Scala family matter.

Oscar strode to the house. Miss Wheeler followed, one hand tucked into her skirt pocket. I doubted chalk dust would be enough of a weapon against a furious murderer if he was armed.

The closer we got to the house, the clearer Pietro Scala’s words became. Miss Wheeler quickly and quietly translated. “He told the abbot that he can’t kill the widow and her son, too.”

Too. It was all the confirmation we needed.

Oscar barged in, not caring that he was walking into a volatile situation. Pietro Scala whipped around but must have decided we were less of a threat than the abbot, bashing a chair against the wall. Whether he thought there was a hidden door there, or whether he was simply expressing his anger wasn’t clear, but he smashed the chair over and over. The stone chipped, but the wooden chair didn’t break. When he finally threw it into the corner, it appeared not to have a scratch on it.

The abbot picked up a cooking pan and turned toward us. He raised it above his head to throw. Before I had a chance to duck, Miss Wheeler tossed a fistful of white chalk dust into the air. Her brief spell sent it shooting into the abbot’s face. Blinded, he threw the pot, but his aim was off and it missed us.

Oscar grabbed the abbot’s wrists.

Coughing and spluttering, the abbot managed to spit out a few angry words along with chalk dust. It clung to his skin, eyebrows and eyelashes, even as he blinked furiously.

“Goodness,” Miss Wheeler said. “Such colorful language for a man of God.”

He spat at her. “Vile creature.”

Oscar released the abbot just long enough to punch him in the stomach before recapturing his wrists.

The abbot bent over, wheezing.

Signore Scala looked down his nose at his brother. “Please accept my apologies, Miss Wheeler. He does not like magicians.”

“You went to see him after you left us,” I said. “Why, when you knew he was the murderer?”

Signore Scala watched his brother trying to suck in air. “I was not sure at first. I only suspected. It wasn’t until I confronted him just now that he confessed. I was upset, and told him his stupid pride was going to ruin our family. I told him the widow had come to see me, and that she had the letter from our father. Although I believe her when she assured me she would not reveal it to anyone, I do not believe her son will give up his rights. When he is older, he will use that letter to claim his inheritance.”

“You don’t know that,” Miss Wheeler said.

“He is a Scala. He will use it. I assume he and his mother are safe?” No one gave a response and he didn’t wait for one. “I will not harm them. I know you may not believe me, but I won’t. There are witnesses now.” He nodded at the doorway where Maria and the two men hovered, watching. “Besides, I think I will adopt the boy—Emiliano. I will never marry, or do what is necessary to have children, but I would like an heir nevertheless. Emiliano can be my son, if he and his mother agree.”

The abbot spat on the floor. “Traitor. His very existence is sinful, a depravity committed by our sinful father. Magic. Lust. Greed. The devil whispered in his ear and that is when our family’s decline began. That is when he strayed from God’s path. He admitted using magic. He admitted being unfaithful to our mother. He overlooked your depravity.”

Signore Scala’s nostrils flared. He stood as still as a statue, regarding his brother with cool detachment. In that moment, I realized he loathed his brother as much as the abbot loathed him.

“I will not see the Scala name blackened,” the abbot snarled. “I tried to save our family’s reputation by killing the boatbuilder. His son was supposed to already be dead, but now you tell me he lives, so I must do God’s work again to protect our legacy.” He struggled against Oscar, but Oscar was too strong. The abbot snarled in frustration, directing it at his brother. “Do not adopt that boy. It will be the end of our good name. If you acknowledge he is a Scala, you will bring shame on our family. Again.” The abbot’s face twisted with disgust and rage. “You are debauched filth!”

Signore Scala stepped up, drew his fist back and punched the abbot hard in the gut. The abbot fell forward again, coughing.

Oscar hoisted him up a little, although the abbot remained bent over, spluttering. “Your brother is a good man, Father Abbot. I’m glad he has found a family member he can be proud of. I think he and his nephew will do well together.”

I wrinkled my nose to indicate he’d laid on the praise a little too thickly for Signore Scala’s sake. The smile he gave me in return was almost non-existent, but I suspect Miss Wheeler saw it, too.

Under the direction of Signore Scala, the local men tied the abbot to a chair to await the arrival of the Carabinieri from Monteoro.

We didn’t wait with them, however. Miss Wheeler was keen to give Signora Colombo the good news. We said our goodbyes to Maria and thanked her for helping then set off back to Monteoro.