I nodded, a little surprised at his boldness. ‘I am.’
He dropped his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his smile.
‘We cannot cast him out, as he is one of my husband’s bastards,’ the lady of the house said. She rolled her eyes. ‘Judas Iscariot, I call him.’
Hah. When I was a boy, that’s what they called me.
After evening prayer, I was throwing dice with Nerio and Fiore, who were still not friends. It was exhausting, keeping them from blows. But it passed the time.
‘I had an eight, until you jarred the dice box,’ Fiore stated.
‘Why were you so clumsy as to strike me with it?’ Accaioulo asked.
‘Why were you so clumsy as to allow it to touch you?’ Fiore asked.
Juan was lying on our bed, playing with the points of his doublet while I sewed a new metal aiguillette on one. ‘Why don’t you two get a private room?’ Juan asked. ‘Then you can have your lover’s quarrels without troubling your elders.’
Believe me, his Catalan accent made him sound even more arrogant.
‘I suppose you’d prefer if I was in the eaves with the servants,’ Fiore asked, clearly stung. Fiore’s relative poverty weighed on him far more than it need have, but he was very proud.
Juan swung his legs off the bed. ‘I said nothing of the sort. William, you are a fine tailor, whatever I may think of you as a knight.’
Nerio was looking down his nose at Fiore, but he couldn’t resist an opportunity. ‘I hear he’s a fine pastry cook, too,’ he jibed. ‘And he does leatherwork.’
The room was too small for so many young men. But rain was falling like the wrath of God on Noah, and we had nowhere to go.
Ser Niccolò knocked and was admitted, at which time everyone had to shift, we were packed that close. ‘William, can you afford to keep a page?’
‘Can he fight?’ I asked. ‘If so, yes.’
If I wondered why the richest man in Italy, the chancellor of the Kingdom of Naples, was working on finding me a servant, I didn’t ask. I sensed that Accaioulo was a matchmaker at heart: it may have been the key to his success at negotiations.
Nerio smiled to himself and turned away.
Ser Niccolò nodded. ‘I’m sure he can fight, or if not, you can teach him, or your Friulian can. But he needs to leave here. Madonna is a fine woman, but her natural inclination leads her to be …’ He paused, looking for a word that would not be indelicate or unchivalrous.
‘To be petty?’ I asked.
Ser Niccolò waved a hand in front of his face, the universal Northern Italian sign for a word or phrase that was too strong. The he frowned. ‘Perhaps,’ he admitted.
Well, I needed a servant.
Fiore glared at Nerio. ‘Why is your father planting a spy on Sir William?’ he asked.
Nerio stood up suddenly and put a hand on his dagger. ‘Withdraw that!’ he spat.
I stood up too. ‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I am going to meet this servant. Please try not to kill each other while I’m gone.’ I looked back and forth. ‘Really, friends, I am growing tired of separating you.’
Juan caught my eye and gave me the smallest head nod from the bed. I winked at him and walked out. Juan followed me into the passageway.
‘Just let them fight,’ he whispered. ‘The longer you keep them from it …’ He shrugged.