‘Surely he can be placated, madam?’ he said. ‘It is not so bad.’

‘A serving girl once stained his clothes with wine,’ said Jana. ‘And Ugo had her thrown from his dam.’

She laughed mirthlessly and followed her brother out into the night.

‘What a man!’ exclaimed Poliponi, when they had gone. ‘He is like a crazy god!’

‘Oh, do be quiet,’ said Victor. ‘He is a bore. I do not think we will be going to his carnival.’

‘But I insist,’ said Poliponi. ‘We must go. I want very much to see his palazzo and the dam, and the aqueduct.’

‘I would like to see the mountains,’ said James. ‘After all I’ve heard about them.’

‘I’m sure you would,’ said Victor. ‘But we shall not be going. There are rumours about Ugo Carnifex.’

‘What rumours?’ said James.

‘I don’t want to go into it,’ said Victor. ‘We are not going.’

‘You are an old woman, Victor,’ said Poliponi. ‘Frightened of ghosts and shadows.’ The artist poured himself a glass of wine. ‘Ugo is just a man who loves secrecy. He does not welcome many visitors; we should be honoured. I adore carnivals, James,’ he added. ‘Such fun. There will be music and dancing and wrestling. I love wrestling. It is so manly.’

‘Carnifex is a crook,’ said Victor. ‘And we are not going.’

‘Oh, many men in that part of the island are crooks; it is bandit country,’ said Poliponi. ‘But Carnifex is different. He is a strong man, a modern-day Augustus. He could make this country great again, like Mussolini is trying to do.’

‘Mussolini is a clown,’ said Victor. ‘They are all clowns. Why can’t they just leave us alone and stop trying to change the world?’

‘The world needs changing,’ said Poliponi. ‘It is boring. I insist that we go, Victor, or I will sulk.’

Victor stood up. ‘I will think about it,’ he said, and went outside.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Poliponi with a sly grin and a wink. ‘We are going, James.’

In the distance, James heard the roar of the Sikorsky’s engines and saw its lights as it climbed into the night sky.

12

Let Down Your Hair, Rapunzel

Amy sat at her window and looked out at the now familiar view. Slowly the sun was setting and the light was fading, but she could still see, far below, the dry valley, dotted with yellow stubble fields, and on the other side, the craggy grey mountain rising up to the darkening sky, its lower slopes carpeted with trees that from this distance looked like tiny green pompoms.

Under different circumstances she might have found the view beautiful, even romantic, but now she just found it bleak and desolate and lonely.

She was a prisoner in this room.

There was a thick iron bar in the middle of her window, but even if it hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have dared to climb out. There was a drop outside the window of several hundred feet.