The Devil in Music (8 page)

"Yes,
Excellency. I'm Lucia Landi."

"Have
you moved the body or disarranged it in any way?"

"No,
Excellency."

"You're
all witnesses to the fact that I'm not doing so, either. But I wish
to confirm what you've told me. Yes, his pocketbook and watch are
here. And in his breast pocket a pistol! Why should he carry arms
in his own garden? Ah, Madonna! he must have known he was the
target of an incendiary! And yet he was gallant to the end scorning
the Carbonari and refusing to take them seriously."

Donati
was taken aback. "Signor Conte, are you so certain that the
murder was political?"

"Can
you doubt it, Maestro? When a man like Lodovico a staunch friend to
the Austrian government and the Church is killed for no apparent
reason, the crime must be political. Consider the times we live in:
rebellion in Naples, rebellion in Piedmont, a massive conspiracy just
beginning to be uncovered here in Lombardy!"

Donati
had heard all about the arrests in Lombardy this past autumn. A
group of distinguished men, including some of northern Italy's
foremost writers and journalists, stood accused of plotting to
overthrow Austrian rule in Milan and Venice. A special commission
had been established in Venice to deal with the conspiracy, and if
Donati did not miss his guess, it would soon aggrandize its
importance by finding more traitors. Those already arrested were
pent up in wretched cells, subjected to secret interrogations, denied
the assistance of lawyers and the consolation of friends.

Lucia
broke the silence. "Maybe the marchese shot himself,
Excellency. He did have a gun."

"But
it hasn't been fired," said Raversi. "It's loaded, but he
never had a chance to use it. Though it's true that the extent of
the wound and the blackening around it show he was shot at very close
range. This young man you call Orfeo must have come into the
belvedere with him he didn't, for example, shoot him through a window
from outside. Of course, he might have killed him outside and
dragged his body in here to conceal it."

Donati
said as politely as he could, "You seem to have made up your
mind that Orfeo killed him, Signor Conte."

"Of
course he did!" said Raversi eagerly. "He was the perfect
Carbonaro agent: a foreigner without connexions in Milan, of whom
nothing was known for good or ill. He kept his name and background a
secret, and now he's disappeared. That's how the Carbonari work in
silence and deceit."

"But
Signor Conte," Donati protested, "it was the marchese's
idea to make a mystery of Orfeo's name and background. He thought it
would stir up public interest in him."

"The
Carbonari are very clever," said Raversi. "No doubt Orfeo
made Lodovico think it was all his own idea."

"With
respect, Signor Conte, I don't think anyone ever put a thought in
Marchese Malvezzi's head against his will."

Raversi
thought briefly. "Do you know Orfeo's real name, Maestro?"

"No,
Signor Conte. I know almost nothing about him, except that he has a
beautiful voice. Surely that can't be said of many Carbonari."

"There
are Carbonari in all walks of life, Maestro. What more natural than
that they should choose a singer to attach himself to Lodovico? My
poor friend's mania for music was well known."

Donati
was shaken. It might be true. What did he know about Carbonari? He
was fond of Orfeo, but the young man had been something of an enigma
to him. I can't say for certain where I'll be or what I'll be doing
in a week, or a month.. .. I'm sorry to be so mysterious. I would
tell you if I could. Mightn't these be the words of a radical
incendiary?

"Excellency,"
broke in Lucia, "how do we know Orfeo hasn't been killed, too?
Or that he isn't lying wounded somewhere, needing us, while we stand
about here making up stories?"

"Comandante
Von Krauss and the others will be here soon, and a search can be
made," said Raversi. "Until then, I must require you all
to stay here. Tell me, Maestro, how did you meet Orfeo?"

"I'd
known Marchese Malvezzi for some years. He'd sponsored promising
pupils of mine, and I'd trained proteges of his. He told me how he'd
met this young Englishman and taken it into his head to have him
trained at his villa on the Lake of Como. He wanted me to be his
teacher. I could gauge the extent of his infatuation by his
willingness to leave Milan in January the best opera season of the
year to live on the lake in winter weather, with hardly any company
of his own rank. I told him I was old and blind my days of intrigue
and adventure were long past. I wanted to work in comfort, without
having to hide from anyone."

"And
yet you agreed to teach Orfeo. Why?"

"Signor
Conte," Donati said simply, "I heard him sing."

There
was a pause. Donati heard Raversi walking deliberatively back and
forth. "How long have you and Orfeo been living here?"

"About
six weeks, I think."

"What
language did you and he speak?"

"Milanese,
Signor Conte. I don't speak English."

"Did
he speak Milanese well?"

"Extremely
well."

"So
you could converse quite fluently. Didn't he ever tell you anything
about himself?"

"No,
Signor Conte. But I never asked. I wasn't curious. We lived for
music we talked and thought of nothing else. The rest of the world
seemed very far away."

"What
about you, Matteo?" asked Raversi. "Can you shed any
light on who Orfeo was or where he came from?"

"Excellency,
I hardly ever saw him. I was always out working in the gardens or
going on errands to the village and the castle."

"And
you, Lucia? Do you know Orfeo's name?"

"No,
Excellency."

"You
were close to him in age," Raversi said persuasively. "The
two of you must have been thrown together become friends."

"A
girl like me doesn't make friends with a gentleman like him.
Excellency not unless she wants to be ruined out of hand. I wouldn't
take that chance. I want to be properly married some day."

"Hm.
Well, at least you can give me a description of him."

"A
description, Excellency?"

"Yes,
a description. What did he look like?"

"That's
hard to say, Excellency."

"How
can it be hard to say? Haven't you been living here with him all
this time?"

"I
didn't live here, Excellency," she said primly. "My father
wouldn't allow it. I only came to cook and clean during the day."

"All
the same, you must have seen Orfeo frequently. Was he tall?"

"Taller
than I am, Excellency."

"That's
as might be expected. How much taller?"

"I
don't know, Excellency. I never stood close by him."

"Was
he heavily built?"

"I
wouldn't say so, no."

"What
colour was his hair?"

"Brown,
I think."

"What
shade of brown?"

"I
didn't especially notice."

"What
about his eyes?"

"I'm
not one to be looking into gentlemen's eyes, Excellency!"

"For
the love of God, girl, you must remember more about him than this!
Was he good-looking? Had he any scars or moles or disfiguring
marks?"

"I
really didn't take any notice of his looks, Excellency. He was above
my touch."

Donati
shook his head dazedly. Lucia, who had not flinched from helping him
dress this morning, turning priggish! Shrewd, sharp-eyed Lucia,
unable to describe a young man she had seen every day for the past
six weeks! Oh, Orfeo, Orfeo, you have a great deal to answer for!

"Mother
of God!" cried Raversi in exasperation. "Matteo, you
describe him."

Matteo
cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "I didn't see half so
much of him as my girl here did. If she can't describe him, then nor
can I, Excellency."

"This
is preposterous! Maestro Donati, surely Lodovico told you something
about what this young man looked like?"

"He
told me he was twenty-one years old. But he never said whether he
was fair or dark, tall or short. He did say he would cut a fine
figure on the stage and be pleasing to the ladies, but I had the
impression he meant that he was graceful and gentlemanly, not
necessarily that he was handsome."

"Didn't
you have to feel Orfeo's face or throat in order to teach him?"

"No,
Signor Conte. I knew just by listening to him what he was doing
right or wrong. But wait!" Donati held up his hand. "We're
forgetting Tonio!"

"Who
is Tonio?" asked Raversi quickly.

"My
servant. Or rather, he used to be. The marchese made me dismiss him
yesterday."

"Why?"

Donati
recounted how Orfeo and Tonio fought in the wine cellars under the
caves, and how the marchese came upon them after the fight, lost his
temper, and quarrelled with Orfeo. Of course Raversi wanted to know
what Orfeo and Tonio were fighting about. Donati answered that he
did not know.

"Where
is Tonio now?" Raversi asked.

"I
don't know, Signor Conte. But he can't have gone far. I promised
I'd give him a month's wages and help him find another post. So he's
probably in Solaggio waiting for a chance to come back and see me
after the marchese leaves " Donati stopped short, remembering
that Lodovico would never go anywhere of his own accord again. "He
wouldn't have wanted to come back while the marchese was here,"
he finished. "He was afraid of him."

"Angry
with him, too, probably," said Lucia shortly.

"What
are you trying to suggest?" Raversi asked her sternly.

"It's
not my place to make suggestions, Excellency. I was just wondering,
that's all."

"You're
thinking Tonio might have killed the marchese?" said Matteo.
"How could he have got into the garden? I left the gate locked
last night, and he didn't have a key."

"It
wasn't locked this morning, Papa. I forgot to tell you."

"Are
you sure?" asked Raversi.

"Yes,
Your Excellency. When Papa and I came down from the

castle
this morning, he gave me the key to unlock the gate, because he had
to go to the village. But I didn't need to use it, because the gate
was already unlocked."

"How
many keys are there?" asked Raversi.

"Two,
Excellency," said Matteo. "One I took with me to the
castle last night, and the other's kept in a shed in the garden."

"Well,
there you are," said Raversi. "Orfeo took the key from the
shed and let himself out of the garden after he killed Lodovico."

Donati
was only half listening. Something of the greatest importance had
dawned on him. There might be dozens of brown-haired young men
wandering about the mountainous countryside or trying to cross the
borders into Piedmont or Switzerland. But not many of them would
have a split lip.

Raversi
seemed uncannily to read his mind. "Was Orfeo hurt in this
fight with Tonio?"

Somebody
has to tell him, Donati thought. Lucia won't, and Matteo is taking
his cue from her. So it's up to me. Orfeo may be a murderer. He
mustn't escape.

"I
don't know," he heard himself mumble. "As you know, I
can't see."

He
heard Lucia's quick release of breath. Now we're all guilty, he
thought. Heaven help us if this young man isn't worth lying for!

His
keen ears caught voices in the distance. "Someone is coming."

Matteo's
heavy tread moved toward the door. "It's Comandante Von Krauss
and some soldiers," he reported. "And I can see Don
Cristoforo and Signor Ruga oh, and Dr. Curioni. They're all coming
from the direction of the village."