Heart of Glass (33 page)

“Welcome aboard,” he says.

“Where are you taking me?” My thoughts can barely keep up with what’s happening, but one realization slams into me: The wine last night. It was drugged.

Massimo.

“Haven’t you guessed?” Faruk asks. He points towards a large ship, squatting among others farther out beyond the harbor. “Halim is waiting for his concubine.”

47

“What will happen to us?” Faustina sobs. “These brutes are capable of terrible things!” She wraps her shawl more tightly around her bosom. Despite the pain in my head and my parched throat, I give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine,” I tell her, wishing I could believe my own words.

I shift myself awkwardly across the boat, trying to anticipate each lunge and swell of the sea. I stumble, falling like a toddler at my old wet nurse’s feet. She helps me up onto the bench, and we sit side by side, my arm around her shoulders as she turns her face into the crook of my neck.

“What shall we do?” she asks softly. Faruk is gazing out to sea, his eyes fixed on Halim’s ship. All around is water.

“You have to trust me,” I whisper into her hair, “I’ll get us out of here.”

“Here?” Faustina pulls away to reveal a tearstained face, and looks out at the ocean that surrounds us. “It’s hopeless. I can’t even swim!”

Our little boat draws up beside Halim’s ship. Canvas
sails are rolled tightly. Cannons bristle from its lower decks. It’s as impressive as I remember, the awning over Halim’s pavilion decorated with golden tassels. Smaller ships are ranged around it. Their shallow keels mean that Halim’s crew can sail in close to Venice’s harbor, should cannons not be enough and they want to use swords too.

Halim appears on the deck. He’s wearing scarlet robes with a sash of gold, and on his head is a blue turban. In one hand he carries a golden staff, and in the other a drooping chrysanthemum. Even from this distance, his dark eyes glimmer. He gives us a deep bow.

“Lower the gangplank,” he orders, straightening up.

Faustina grabs my hands, crushing them in her terrified grip. “They’ll slit our throats!” she murmurs.

One by one, I prise my fingers free. I need her to calm down. “The Turks are civilized people. They’ll do no such thing.” I know she won’t really believe this, so I turn to whisper in her ear. “And Halim has a soft spot for me.”

She gasps, and her mouth opens as if to protest. Even dear old Faustina catches my meaning. “You can’t!” she hisses.

Faruk prods us to stand, and we climb stiffly up the gangplank. It isn’t wide, and as the ship and boat sway in the water, the narrow length of wood shifts so that we move in shuffling steps. This is not the most graceful entrance I’ve ever made. Finally, I jump to the deck and reach down to help Faustina. Beside Halim, clutching a curved sword, is one of the men who guarded his apartments in Venice.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Halim says, looking sharply at Faruk. The older man’s cheeks color.

“A gift from our friends,” he says.

“I’m no gift,” Faustina says, turning her face away.

Faruk laughs cruelly. “I wasn’t talking about you, old crone!” He shoves me rudely in the small of my back, and I stagger forward. My hand slaps across his face before I can stop myself. The snake only grins as he touches his cheek. “You’ll be tamed,” he says. “In time.”

Halim smiles at me, his teeth sparkling white against the mahogany of his skin. He’s still handsome. A handsome monster.

I shake my head in disgust and all thoughts of reasoning with this despicable man vanish. “You murderer. To think I almost kissed you!”

Faustina lets out a small, scandalized gasp but Halim ignores her, arching an eyebrow.

“You make me sound so devious, when you put it like that,” he says. “I assure you, I only ever pursued justice. But I see that my plans have been exposed.” He pauses. Placing his staff in the crook of his arm, he starts to pluck petals from the chrysanthemum, allowing them to flutter down one by one to the wooden planks of the deck. “A shame, because the game isn’t over yet.”

The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and the light sparkles off the sea, forcing me to shield my face with a hand. It’s almost impossible to read the expression on Halim’s face.

He gives a short laugh. “Venice will be mine by nightfall.”

“Roberto is safe,” I tell him, “and your sister will never have to see your face again. Venice will resist you.”

For a moment, his brow creases. “We’ll see,” he says. He casts out a hand and sweeps it through the air, taking
in my body from the topmost curl on my head to the satin slippers on my feet. “Anyway, I already have Venice’s most precious jewel.”

“It’s lost, all lost!” Faustina cries, sinking to her knees.

Faruk comes to stand beside his master, and the two of them look out at the shores of Venice. “Are you ready to see your city aflame?” Faruk sneers.

I send him an icy glare. “You may have bought Massimo, but Vincenzo’s fleet—”

Halim gives a bark of laughter and hurls away the bare stalk of the chrysanthemum. “Oh, Vincenzo! Savior of Venice! If only it were so.”

Faruk is grinning too. The breeze around us stiffens, and I understand.
A gift from our friends
, Faruk said. More than one.

I shake my head. “No—he wouldn’t—”

“Will someone explain to me what is going on?” wails Faustina.

Halim smiles. “That’s right. The man your father would have you marry, the person you dismissed as an old fool? When I raise a flag from my mast, he’ll be waiting for the signal. He’ll turn his cannons on the Venetian fleet. The Doge’s ships, armed with nothing but useless powder, will be aflame within moments.” He brings his face close to mine; I have to force myself not to cringe away. “And there’s nothing you can do, my Laura.”

So Massimo and Vincenzo were in league all along. That’s why the Bear summoned him back. They worked together at the party last night, Vincenzo drawing me to one side while Massimo applied the tainted wine. It is no
secret how much I despise Vincenzo. But to be capable of something like this? It is unthinkable.

The attendant guards us at swordpoint while Halim strides across the decks, organizing his men. Flags are raised, giving signals to other ships in the fleet. Men scurry this way and that, readying themselves for battle. When Halim passes close to me, I can’t help but call to him.

“Your sister meant nothing to you, did she?”

He smiles, but only anger lights up behind his eyes. “You’re wrong. She betrayed our plans. I loved her until that moment.”

“She sought to uphold the honor of both our countries,” I say.

Halim scoffs. “This is war. Honor is an abstract concept. There is only victory, or defeat.”

“Then I hope you taste the latter.”

Halim jerks his chin at something beyond my shoulder, and I twist round to take in the sight of Venice’s fleet sailing towards us, ready to chase the Ottomans out of sight.

“We shall soon find out,” he says.

The long Venetian galleys sit low in the water. Their sails bulge as gold flags flutter at the top of the masts, and the decks are crowded with men—officers, soldiers and sailors.

I spot Vincenzo’s ships. Each has three masts; sails bearing his crest snap in the wind. The sea swells, and water foams as they carve a path through the water. They’re gaining on the Venetian ships by the moment.

My mouth turns dry. The Doge’s men are trapped between a traitor and a madman. As I watch the ships
moving through the water in formation, my stomach knots. Vincenzo might be easily bought, but I will never give in to men like Halim. I must find a way to fight back.

I turn around, careful to erase the expression of anger from my face. I needn’t have worried; Halim is not thinking about me anymore.

“Raise the red flag!” he shouts, pushing me out of the way. He goes to stand at the edge of the ship, braced between two swivel-mounted guns. Men are sponging the barrels and carrying the iron balls into position.

“Are we going to die, Laura?” Faustina asks in a quavering voice.

“Not if I can help it,” I tell her.

A man pulls on a rope, craning his head back to gaze at the sky. Halim’s flag unfurls and flutters out, then begins to rise slowly up the mast.

This is it
, I think.
The battle begins
.

As ropes are tightened and tied off, the sails catch the wind, and the ship begins to move through the water. The whole fleet stirs. We slice through swells as men scramble to and fro through hatches. From below deck I hear pounding feet and shouted instructions as the well-drilled crew go about their loading.

As we sail to within a hundred yards, Halim offers his arm. “Better hold on to something,” he says.

I don’t take it, and he bellows an order. Suddenly the sails snap, and the ship’s prow jerks to one side. I’m thrown into Faustina, and we both stagger across deck. As I climb to my feet and help my old nurse, I see we’re floating parallel with the first Venetian ship. Halim shouts again and men angle the cannon barrels towards my countrymen.

“Please!” I hear myself shout. “Don’t do this!”

In turn, Venetian seamen line the side of their vessel, staring over the barrels of muskets or crouched beside their cannons.

“I don’t believe it,” Halim murmurs.

His face is white with shock. Faruk is backing away, towards some steps leading down into the pit of the ship, terror writ large over his face.

Then I spot what they’ve already seen. Beneath the crest of Vincenzo’s ship, on the deck of
Il Castigo
, a man strides towards the stern of the vessel. He moves confidently, with youth and strength. Where are Vincenzo’s stooped shoulders and limp? The stranger climbs up to hold on to the forward-facing mast of the ship and waves a sword in the air, his legs braced.

“That’s not Vincenzo,” Faustina says, her voice cracking.

“No, it’s not,” I say.

It’s Roberto!

48

Cannons bristle from the side of Vincenzo’s ships as they steer round, trained on the Ottoman fleet. On us. Halim’s men look to their leader. “What are you waiting for?” he shouts. “Attack positions!”

A faint shout of command from Roberto carries on the air. Instantly, his ship lurches in the water to bring itself side-on, and the first cannon muzzle flares from
Il Castigo
. A second later, a boom cracks through the air, and the water beside our ship explodes, showering us all in spray. Faustina and I fall to our knees. Low clouds of smoke billow upwards, making us cough and our eyes water. Immediately, there’s another forceful boom and our ship heaves dangerously to one side. For a moment, our deck slopes as steeply as a cliff face and I grasp the railings with one hand, my other fist holding on to Faustina’s collar to stop her from sliding down. She’s sobbing with terror.

“Save me, Laura. Save me!”

The ship levels out, water spilling over the deck. Halim has run to the other side, and is braced behind the second
mast. He shouts back what can only be an order for his own men to fire. The ship shakes and roars as a volley of cannonballs replies. I can barely look as the rounds howl away, smashing into the water just short of
Il Castigo
.

Gunfire fills the air as more cannonballs fly towards us. Halim’s men are struggling to return fire—one of their guns goes careening across the deck as if it weighs nothing. Young men race down below deck and come up hauling fresh supplies of powder as the crew hastily wipes down the cannon.

Halim shouts more orders, and the ship steers tightly in the water. The sails lull and snap tight once more, but we’re heading away from the fight. Away from Venice.

I grab hold of Faustina and drag her back under the canvas awning, poking our heads out to watch.

Faruk emerges from belowdecks, keeping his body low as he scuttles across to his master. There’s a thin whistling sound and another iron ball crashes into the deck. Planks of wood splinter and explode. Faruk’s body is there one moment, whipped away the next. My eyes find him on the other side of the ship, lying still. One side of his skull is dented and a trickle of blood emerges from the corner of his mouth. His legs are twisted beneath him, and he groans with pain as a shard of white bone breaks through the fabric of his tunic, blood blossoming around it. His eyes seem to fix on mine, then narrow, until they roll back and he stills.