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“A marionette—”
“Amarionette? You mean, like Pinocchio?”
Renzo guffawed. “Pinocchio! He’s a liar, he admits it! Prince Pinocchio!”
Vergenti wrotemarionetteon his pad. “So you’re saying a marionette brought you? Was it Pinocchio himself?”
Dante shook his head. “It was dark, and he carried me on a horse.”
“The marionette?” Vergenti made another note,marionette on horse. Thendriven to lunacy by jealousy. “What happened to the marionette?”
Suddenly Dante spit in his face, and Vergenti staggered backward, dropping the pen and feeling his gorge rise. The child’s sputum could carry tuberculosis, malaria, leprosy.Plague.
“Told you!” Renzo lifted Dante from the examining table.
Vergenti vowed never to see the boy again.
Dante sat in his cell,worried he’d made a mistake in spitting at the doctor. He was trying to be fierce like Count Roland, but maybe he was wrong. He’d been thinking he was too much like Oliver, because Mamma liked Oliver better. But the doctor kept saying he had a brother, and Dante knew he didn’t. Then he remembered Papa liked Count Roland because he was fierce.
He thought about Papa now. It was Dante’s birthday, and Papa was holding out a box wrapped in silvery paper. “Son, what do you think it is?”
Dante reached for the gift, but Papa moved it away with a smile.
“Wait, can you guess?”
His mother chuckled. “Don’t tease him, dear.”
“I can’t guess!” Dante wanted his gift. “Please, may I have it?”
“Fair enough.” Papa handed him the present, and Dante sat on the floor and tore off the silvery paper. Inside was a box, and he lifted the lid to find a beautiful sword. It had a long blade of silver paper glued onto wood, with a silvery hilt and a real point at the end.
Dante cried, “It’s Durendal!”
Papa grinned. “Now you have your own sword, like Count Roland.”
“Thank you!” Dante scrambled to his feet and whipped the sword around boldly. “Papa, the pagans are coming for the rear guard!”
Mamma put up her hands. “Dante, be careful!”
Papa laughed. “Darling, he’s fighting the pagans, can’t you see?” Hegrabbed a poker from the fireplace and wielded it like a sword. “You Christians will not defeat us!”
“I will spill your bright blood, pagan!” Dante swung his sword.
“Count Roland, you’re no match for me!” Papa struck the sword with his poker, and the battle was joined in the living room.
“I’ll spare none of you!” Dante moved right, thrusting his sword. “ ‘Lift up, my lords, your burnished blades and fight!’ ”
“ ‘You shall learn the name of my good blade!’ ”
“Mountjoy!” Dante yelled, which was Roland’s battle cry.
“Dante, enough!” Mamma caught him by the arm.
“Mamma, no, he’s escaping! He’s cunning and treacherous!”
Papa burst into laughter. “Darling, I’m cunning and treacherous!”
“Enough, you two!” Mamma took the sword from Dante. “Let’s have some cake, and you can play later.”
