The Thief Lord
Page 58"How did you get in here?" Ida asked Prosper, not taking her eyes off his two companions.
"Lucia told me where she hides the spare key," Prosper answered in embarrassment.
"Well, well, and now you've brought even more people into Ida's house." Victor glared suspiciously at the young man. "I bet your name is Massimo," he growled. "And what about the little midget there? Aren't there enough children in this house already?"
The little redhead rose unsteadily. He eyed Victor from head to toe and slurred drunkenly, "Midget? I am Ernesto Barbarossa. I am an important man in this city. And who the devil, if I may ask, are you?"
Victor was astounded. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the young man pushed the redhead roughly back into his seat.
"Shut up, Barbarossa, or should I say, baby Barbarino. If you don't behave yourself we'll kick you out of the door. This is Victor, a friend of ours. And the lady next to him is Ida Spavento. This is her house."
Victor and Ida exchanged a stunned look.
"I'm sorry we brought the redbeard here, Ida," Prosper stammered. "And that he drank your port, but he didn't want to stay in his shop by himself. It's only for one night ..."
"In his shop?" Victor asked. "Darn it, Prosper, could you please explain what's going on?"
"We've given our word not to tell anyone about it," Prosper muttered, nervously tugging at the filthy cloth that was holding up his arm.
"Yes, we're really sorry, Victor," the young man said. Victor couldn't remember ever having seen such an impertinent grin on a grown-up's face. "But perhaps you'd like to guess who you're talking to. You've already had quite a good shot at the name."
Victor was spared having to answer. Somebody tugged at his sleeve, and when he looked over his shoulder, Hornet was standing behind him.
"Where have you been?" she cried, anger and relief both ringing through her voice. "Where have you been, for god's sake? Have you any idea how worried we've been? You just disappear in the middle of the night ..." She had tears in her eyes.
Prosper opened his mouth and tried to say something, but Hornet wouldn't let him.
"We've been searching for you all over town. Mosca and Riccio are still out there!" she shouted. "And Lucia and Giaco. And Bo has been crying his eyes out. Not even Victor could calm him down ..."
"Bo?" Prosper had been avoiding Hornet's eyes, but now he looked at her incredulously, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "B-Bo?" he stammered. "But Bo's with Esther!"
"No, he isn't!" Hornet shouted. "But how would you know -- going off and vanishing like that? And what happened to your arm?"
Prosper didn't reply. He just looked at Victor.
"Don't look at me like that. Yes, your little brother ran away from Esther again," Victor said to him. "But not before he misbehaved so thoroughly that your aunt no longer thinks he's an angel. She doesn't want to see him again. Ever. Not him, and definitely not you. Those were her words. I'm supposed to find a decent Italian children's home for the two of you, should you ever reappear again. But she won't have anything to do with either of you anymore."
Prosper shook his head. "It's not possible!" he whispered.
"I found your brother in the movie theater," Victor continued. "I thought if I brought him here you'd throw yourself at me with gratitude, but you weren't even here."
Prosper shook his head again, as if he still couldn't believe what Victor was saying.
"Did you hear that, Scip?" he muttered.
"Who the heck is that, Prosper?" Victor asked.
"Scipio, of course!" Prosper answered. "And now, please, tell me where Bo is."
But Victor was lost for words. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. But not a single sound passed his lips. Finally, Ida took Prosper's hand.
"Come with me," she said, leading Prosper into the corridor.
Bo was still sleeping in the chair, right where Victor had put him. He had curled up like one of his kittens underneath the sweater Hornet had spread over him. His hair was still wet from the rain, and his eyelids were red from crying. Prosper bent over him and pulled the sweater up to his chin.
"Yes, Bo took matters into his own hands," Ida said quietly, guessing the truth, "while his brother took off to the Isola Segreta."
Prosper looked ashamed.
"I'm not allowed to talk about it," he said. "It's someone else's secret, and ..."
"... and the Isola Segreta may keep its secret," Ida completed the sentence. She sat down on the arm of the chair. "At least the wing seems to be back in its proper place," she said. "And Bo will be very happy that you didn't ride on what we're not allowed to speak about."
"Yes, I think so too." Prosper stretched himself. "What did he do to Esther?"
"Your aunt has been kicked out of the hotel," Ida answered. "And I seem to recall something about pasta and tomato sauce."
"It was just as beautiful as you told us," he said suddenly. "But now it's broken. It was Barbarossa's fault. And I think it will never ever work its magic again."
Ida said nothing. She leaned forward and stroked a wet strand of hair out of Bo's face. "You should wake your brother now," she said. "And then I'll have a look at your arm."
"It's not so bad," Prosper answered. "But maybe you could find a vet who'd dare to go out to the Isola Segreta to treat a couple of dogs?"
"Sure," Ida answered. Then she went back into the kitchen.
And Prosper woke Bo.
48 A Crazy Idea
That evening Hornet put ten plates on Ida's dining table. When Ida had told Lucia that the little redhead and the young man would also be staying for dinner, the housekeeper had just shaken her head, mumbling something about "all these mouths eating Signora out of house and home," and went off to the kitchen to cook a fantastic amount of spaghetti. Nearly all of them were already sitting at the table when Lucia finally brought in the steaming bowls. Only Ida and Barbarossa were missing.
Prosper saw Riccio, Mosca, and Hornet surreptitiously looking at Scipio, who had seated himself and his long legs at the head of the table. They were all looking for something familiar, but there wasn't much to find. From time to time Scipio ran his hand flat over his hair, just like he used to; and he still arched his eyebrows the same way as ever. Other than that, he was a stranger, even to Prosper. Scipio seemed to feel it himself, although he gave his friends a smile whenever he noticed their uneasy glances.
"Now, Signor Massimo, when are you going to see your parents?" Victor asked, after Lucia had also sat down with an exhausted sigh. "Today?"