The Vault of Bones (37 page)

'Ballocks!’ I spluttered, all wounded dignity. She was right, though.

‘I was going to say that I was no maid of easy virtue, but I was no maid neither, if you catch my meaning. I was hungry, of course, but I knew how to steal, and it kept me going for nigh on a week, until I ran into a mob of bravoes who decided to rape me. I ran from them and kept running, into parts of the town I'd never been, until I stumbled into a square full of ... whores. Windows full of them, going up into the clouds it seemed to me, all shaking their tits and cawing at the men below like randy rooks. I was clever enough to work out that I would be safe from the bravoes in one of those houses, so I dashed in and begged the madam to hide me. She did. And before I knew it I was a Venetian whore. I could dance and sing, remember, so I paid my way; and the madam thought I was exotic - Smooth Field, exotic! - so she kept me by for the special customers ...'

'Ah. Like Nicholas Querini, perchance?' I ventured.

'Like Messer Nicholas. He took a fancy to me - a bit more than a fancy, in fact, for he bought me from the madam. Bought me, yes, for at some point I had become her
property!
She hissed the word, and bit her lip. 'Bought and sold, that's me. Nicholas has a wife and a pretty family, so he kept me in an old palace round the corner from Saint Mark's. I was happy, I'll admit. There was a roof terrace, with flowers and a little tree, and do you know? I had my own monkey! Men do like to buy their courtesans monkeys, you know, and pappagallos. A hazard of our trade, you might say: they bite and peck and eat squishy fruits, which makes them shit everywhere, but you know, it is
exotic.
Tra-la. Nicholas would come around to bed me, and we would talk, and then the talking came before the bedding, and afterwards; and I liked that. He taught me to read, you know: bought me my very own tutor, an old monk - hated my guts.' She threw back her head and barked a harsh laugh. 'He didn't think women should read, and tried to teach me scripture by rote, but I would threaten him with the monkey - he hated the monkey - and in the end I did learn. Funny, it was the parrot killed him in the end, for they carry fever, dirty creatures. Why I didn't get it I don't know, but I didn't.'

‘I like monkeys,' I said. 'They

'Don't start!' she told me.

'All right,' I assured her. 'So you learned your words. Then what?'

'Nicholas brought me things to read, and he noticed that I could pick them apart and find what they really meant, the gold in the dross, if you like. At first he did it for his own amusement - got him worked up, talking to a clever wench. Then he started bringing me other things,
his
things, papers to do with his affairs. I hadn't realised what a big man he was, but he is very, very ... he has power, lots of it. He's as rich as the Doge, oh, more so, and he is always,
always
plotting. I used to think his skull was full of ants, never resting, always bringing in more ideas, building more schemes. He wore me out, really. Wears everyone out eventually.'

'But he looks like such a typical merchant,' I protested. 'Big and pleased with himself. Lots of food and drink and pats on the back.'

'Oh, he's all of that,' snorted Letice. 'That's how he keeps folk off their guard while he's pinching their stuff.' She saw my surprised look. 'Not pinching like you mean, Petroc. He doesn't steal things and shove them in a bag. He does it with paper and words and numbers. That's the way to nick the really big stuff. Like empires. He would love to be Doge, of course,' she said, thoughtfully. 'I've always known that. He started to let me out of the house, you see, to spy on his rivals. No one knew who I was, or
what
I was, and I caught on to the language pretty quick, so I could go anywhere. No past, not in Venice. That's when I met Facio and Dardi.'

'I was wondering about that,' I said.

'Dardi was a knife-man, pure and simple,' she told me. 'Anyone Nicholas wanted out of the way, Dardi took care of it. He was busy all the time, and Nicholas paid well, so he got rich. But he didn't get clever, or less like an ape. Facio, however ... he's different. Very quick. He'd be a Nicholas if he'd had the right parents, but he's a fisherman's son, so he must needs claw and trample his way up. He's close to Nicholas now, close as can be. He thinks Nicholas will get him made a nobleman - perhaps he's right. He'd kill the pope for that. If it had been Facio in the chapel, we wouldn't be having this talk.'

We were silent for a while. The wind was picking up and it was getting colder. Letice leaned her shoulder against mine for a moment and then pulled away. I found myself wishing she would do it again.

‘We are not so different, you and I,' I said. We have had our lot thrust upon us. It was my fate to fall into the hands of Captain de Montalhac, whom I would call a good man, although others would not. It was yours to be found by Nicholas Querini, who the world accounts a good and gentle man. But we have both been drawn into ... into ...'

Into a stinking bloody jakes,' she said. 'By your leave I'll wish you goodnight, polite Master Dog, and I'll see you in the morning.'

PART FIVE

Stampalia

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘I

he castle of the Querinis, despite all Letice had done to proclaim it a grim and doom-laden place, was a great block of brand-new, blindingly white ashlar sitting almost cheerfully above its whitewashed village, and overlooking two coves of clear, deep water. Querini himself was gone, we saw at once: there was no ship in the harbour, and no flag flew from the battlements.

As soon as we had come within sight of Stampalia, the two Dominicans had begun pacing about the deck, whispering agitatedly to each other and getting in the way of the sailors.

It had been decided that only Letice and I should go ashore, so that suspicions should not be aroused. Master Lambertus found me a sword, an ugly thing that looked as if it had last been used to slaughter hogs; but it had a scabbard and a belt, and I was glad to gird myself with it, although there seemed to be no threat of danger. I put on my cloak, and Letice put on hers, and together we climbed down into the jolly-boat. As the sailors rowed us across the cove to where a line of fishing dinghies were pulled up on the narrow white beach, I saw the villagers milling about under the trees. They did not seem alarmed by our arrival, and I took that to be a good thing. When we had jumped ashore, a few fishermen wandered over to see what we were about, and I greeted them in their own tongue and told them we had business at the castle. The Lordos was away, they told us. We had just missed him - he had left but two days ago. When would he be back? They shrugged as one and, evidently relieved that we were not Venetians nor officials of any outside power, went back to mending their nets.

‘They did not recognise you,' I said to Letice.

Well, I was never allowed to wander about down here’ she answered. ‘I was here for a month, three years ago. But I think I can find the path - here.'

We followed a narrow roadway, here cobbled, there rock-hewn steps, that wound up through the village, where old ladies sat in their doorways and children hid from us, and chickens looked down upon us from the olive trees. It was a short but steep climb up to the gate, and when we reached it there was no one in the guardhouse. I called through a grate in the thick door, and presently heard footsteps clipping towards us. A very young man-at-arms peered through, and then a thick, booze-blown nose appeared.

'Mistress Letice’ crowed a throaty Venetian voice, there was a scraping and clanking, and the postern door opened.

'Jacopo’ said Letice, I fear we have come too late, and must chase Signor Nicholas back to Venice!'

'Alas, yes’ said Jacopo. He was a well-fed and well-watered fellow in his middle years, with swollen hands and rheumy eyes. I guessed he took a keen interest in the running of his masters cellars. 'But you are expected’ he went on. 'And where is Signor Dardi?' he enquired, looking me up and down curiously as Letice and I stepped into the little courtyard, a high-walled space adorned with orange trees in clay pots and with carved plaques bearing what I assumed were the Querini arms. It smelled faintly of new mortar.

'Dardi sent me ahead. He remains in Constantinople’ said Letice, as the gate shut behind us. ‘I am to set things in order here in the meantime’

'Good, good!' said Jacopo with evident relief. We are all
so
looking forward to Signor Dardi taking up his new position,' he added, his words oozing with desperately feigned sincerity.

'I am sure that you are’ said Letice, regarding him down the length of her nose. The man cringed slightly, or perhaps I was imagining things. 'Now. Master Nicholas left me instructions. Did he leave anything here, anything of importance he carried out of Constantinople?'

'No thing’ said Jacopo. 'No actual thing ...'

'A chest, an extremely valuable chest’ Letice prompted him. 'I am to make sure that it is locked up in the strongest room you have.'

'A chest?' asked Jacopo, looking more and more puzzled. 'No, no, nothing like that.'

'Perhaps not a chest’ said Letice. 'A box. A ... a package, about this big?' She glanced at me, and gestured with her hands, the width of a man's head.

'Absolutely not, I am afraid’ said Jacopo blankly. 'He brought spices for the kitchens and a bolt of silk for hanging in the great hall, but ... no, apart from our guest, he left nothing more than that.'

‘Your guest?' said Letice sharply.

'I speak lightly’ said Jacopo apologetically. 'The man whom my lord brought from Constantinople - we are to hold him until such time ...'

'Holding him?' I asked, feeling as if I were about to fall down upon the flagstones, so strong was the blood running about my skull. 'The ... the Frenchman?'

'Jacopo, I have not presented Signor Petrus, lately come into my lord's service’ said Letice smoothly, as Jacopo's wet eyes grew round with surprise.

'He is French, yes indeed’ said Jacopo. 'So you know of whom I speak. Good. I was beginning to worry that he would die before ... ah, yes. Signor Dardi was going to ask him some questions’

'Indeed he was’ I said grimly. 'Well, Signor Dardi has entrusted the asking to me’

The man gave a great whooshing sigh of relief. 'How marvellous’ he wheezed. 'I ... Signor Querini knows I am not the equal to such special tasks. I was sure I would fail him. Would ... would you like to see him now? No, no, forgive me. I must settle you first. You are tired, you are hungry - you are waiting for your effects to come ashore. Signora, should I send men to fetch them?'

'No, no. The master of the ship has taken care of it. No, let us see this Frenchman of yours - Signor Petrus had better talk to him before he expires, eh?'

I nodded, trying to look cold and uninterested. Jacopo wasted no more time. He spun on his heel and led us into the castle. I was suddenly overcome by the urge to draw my sword and divide the fat little man down the centre, but I resisted it.

'How many men does your garrison number?' I asked, in what I hoped was a bored voice. I was not permitting myself the smallest morsel of hope, for false hope is a greater affliction than no hope at all.

'Five’ said Jacopo over his shoulder. 'And ten Greek lads - but they are all down in the village today, for they are celebrating one of their vile, schismatic holy days tomorrow’

We passed through the hall, where a great fireplace adorned with the Querini shield had yet to be swept. Then we climbed, first one straight stair, then a winding one. I had expected us to descend, for were not prisoners kept in dungeons? But perhaps new castles did not have dungeons.

I glanced at Letice, but she was staring at Jacopo's quivering backside, a dangerous blankness upon her face. The memory of Dardi's shocked face came back to me, and I prayed silently that she was not planning some new revenge, for this was her world and I knew almost nothing about it, nor what she might be capable of.

'Here we are!' panted Jacopo at last. We must have reached the very top of the castle, for there were no more stairs, and we stood on a landing with two closed doors facing us. A rush lamp was burning down in a sconce. Jacopo turned a key and opened the nearest door. The room was small, but the walls were newly whitewashed, and the low winter sun was slanting in through the narrow window. It was far from a dungeon, but there was something cold and desperate about it: something dead. There were no furnishings of any sort save for a straw pallet on the tiled floor under the window. And upon it a naked man lay stretched out upon his belly, one hand lolling, palm up and fingers limp, upon the tiles. Letice stayed Jacopo and I with an imperious raised finger, walked briskly across the room and squatted down before the man. She reached down and grabbed a handful of his iron-grey hair and raised his head, but I could not see the face, for it was hidden by her thigh.

Letice dropped the lolling head and, straightening, she turned to Jacopo.

‘It is he,' she said. You may leave us alone with him. We will ask some questions and, depending upon the answers - if answers there be - Signor Petrus will take the wretch onwards with him to Venice’

Jacopo beamed and almost leaped from the room, closing the door after him. As soon as the latch clicked I hurled myself over to the pallet and dropped to the floor beside Letice. The man’s face was sunk into the straw. I reached for him, then paused. His back was a contorted mass of scabs, some crusted over, some pink and suppurating, that roiled over the livid skin like a tangle of lobworms. There was a heavy stench of piss and spoiled meat. But the shoulders rose and fell faintly, so I swallowed and, wincing, gently rolled the head over.

Captain de Montalhac licked his blistered lips and his eyelids fluttered, but both eyes were bruised black and swollen shut. Dried blood had blocked both nostrils. But he breathed, he lived. I had held the things that witnessed the Resurrection of Our Lord in my hands, but they had been dumb. The dead are dead, and they do not return. The bones of Constantinople's Greeks; the withered clay of the relics I had stolen and sold; Anna ... they would not come back. It is not the dead who are abandoned, it is the living. But I had been alone, and now the Captain had returned to me. I bent down and kissed his brow.

'Patch?' he said, although it was no more than a sigh, and I had to lean so close that I felt his breath flutter upon my ear. 'Patch? They have you.' He seemed to go limp, and I took his shoulder and shook it gently, urgently.

'No, Master,' I whispered, smoothing the matted hair away from his burning forehead. 'I have come for you. You are safe.'

'They have the letter,' he said suddenly, clearly, his good eye opening very wide.

'No, no!' I exclaimed. ‘I have it. And more. Let us be gone from here. Can you rise?'

He tried to roll himself over, but could not. Taking off my cloak, I draped it carefully over his wounded back, pushed my arm under his shoulder and tried to heave him up, but he was heavy.

'Letice,' I called softly, 'can you persuade friend Jacopo to call out the guards? We must bring my master to the ship’ She gazed at me for a second, eyes narrowed, then nodded and went to the door. She left the room and I heard her voice, raised and hectoring, and Jacopo's, wheedling and then relieved; and then the sound of feet on stone stairs. Letice peered around the door.

'He will fetch them, and a litter’ she said. 'He's fucking delighted to be rid of your master, so if we play it very fine, I believe we will be away from here without any trouble.
^’
She came and knelt beside me. 'Jacopo is a fool, but not much of one. He hates this island, for he misses Venice and his bum-boys. It is my guess he had nothing to do with this -' and she laid her hand gently upon the Captain's matted head. It looked very long and white against the blood-seized ropes of black and grey - 'for he is not cruel, merely greedy. He fears Dardi above all things, and believes that your master will die, and that Dardi will want to make someone's flesh suffer as a consequence - Jacopo's flesh, I mean. If we do not push him I think he will believe what he wishes to believe.' She gazed down at the Captain and crossed herself slowly. 'The guards did this, I expect. Nicholas would not soil his hands. But he finds it a simple matter to squeeze cruelty out of others,' she muttered, and her shoulders stiffened for a moment. Footsteps sounded upon the stair.

The guards - the young lad from the gatehouse and three others, stubbly and hungover Venetian stevedores, by the looks of them - heaved the Captain on to a stretcher and, cursing, manhandled him down the stairs. It seemed to take hours, and I was terrified that they would drop him, but in the end we reached the hall, and they dumped their burden down upon the dining table.

'Did he come with any effects - clothes, documents, the like?' I asked Jacopo. He considered for a moment, bustled away and came back a while later, bearing a dark bundle. Although the cloth was filthy, I recognized the black damask of the robe he had worn the day he left Constantinople.

And the rest?' I snapped. Jacopo, clearly expecting to be praised, cringed a little and shook his head.

'Nothing, Signor,' he said. 'He came ashore in these clothes

I did not believe him, but the men-at-arms had stopped panting like blown carthorses, and we must needs be gone from here. I snapped my fingers as I hoped Facio might do, and the Captain was heaved up on to four shoulders and carried, wreathed in muttered curses, out of the hall and out of the Castle of Stampalia. Down through the narrow, winding alleys of the village, down through the olive trees, past the fishermen, who averted their eyes this time. The stretcher was edged on to the jolly-boat, and I began to help Letice aboard.

'Signora Letitia, where are you going?' Jacopo whined. He was dancing from foot to foot, as if in dire need of a piss.

'To give Signor Petrus his instructions, and to pay the ship's master,' she snapped. 'I have dealt with too many fools already today,' she added dangerously, 'to imagine that Messer Nicholas' instructions will be carried out merely because I wish them to be. I will send Petrus on his way and then come back to deal with things here. You will await me at the castle.' And with that she snapped her fingers at the oarsmen, and I pushed the little boat off the shingle and vaulted over the gunwale as the oars bit and we began to surge seawards. Jacopo watched us, still doing his dance of indecision, while the soldiers turned and began to trudge up the beach. Letice and I steadied the Captain, and as the swell took the boat and the oars began to kick up spray, he turned his head to me and opened his eye. We regarded each other for a while, silently, and then he took a great lungful of the cold, brine-sharpened air. The corners of his mouth turned up, perhaps, a fraction, and he laid his hand upon mine. I looked at Letice. She was watching the Captain, her white face tight with a bitter sympathy.

Will you pray for him?' I asked. ‘I cannot, and he would not wish me to. But if you will..

‘I will’ she said, and closed her eyes.