“Bianca!” snapped her brother. “Be careful what you say.”
“She is only trying to help,” I said. “Nobody suspects her.” I could not imagine that angelic face belonging to a sinner guilty of anything. “She would not have made that statement if she had poisoned the wine herself! Did your grandfather have anything else to eat or drink? Antipasto?”
She shook her head. “We joined the other guests in the salone, but he refused more wine. At the table he took ill before the antipasto was served.”
The mystery now looked more impossible than insoluble. The Maestro had been mistaken, the procurator had died of natural causes.
“You have been extremely helpful, madonna,” I said. “Did anything else happen in the book room that we should know?”
She smiled. “There was a fight! Well, an argument. Our host discovered the two foreigners and asked them their names. Then he told them to leave, politely at first. The man became offensive and said he had been invited. The illustrious Karagounis was brought into the argument. Maestro Nostradamus had to translate back and forth. At one point the foreign man took out a purse and shook it in Attorney Imer’s face.”
Before I could ask anything more, I heard steps and looked around at the trouble approaching, Great Minister Enrico Orseolo, who had tried to beat me down from ten ducats to three for work already delivered while he was standing under a Tintoretto painting as big as the Piazzetta.
Whenever noblemen over the age of twenty-five appear in public, they wear floor-length robes, a tippet over one shoulder, and a flat, round bonnet like a cake. Magistrates wear color, all others black. As a great minister, sier Enrico Orseolo would wear violet instead of black, but now mourning had put him back in black, a trailing gown like his son’s. Alessa had described him as cold on the outside, warm inside, but I thought of him as cold-blooded. My private name for him was Lizard, because his eyes were protuberant, heavy-lidded, creepily unblinking, while the rest of his face was gaunt and fleshless. He was said to be a politician’s politician, a conciliator, a maker of deals, and I knew he was the sort of man to value agreement for its own sake, not caring whether its terms are honorable-anything was negotiable. His offers to settle the Maestro’s bill had gone up one ducat at a time.
I got the full amount in the end, though.
Enrico Orseolo, the procurator’s son, last survivor of the family group I had inspected earlier, Alessa’s sometime patron, possible future member of the Council of Ten, came to a halt and looked us over with glassy indifference. He did not quite flicker a forked tongue at us, but I imagined it. Today he was not in a mood to compromise.
“Who are these people, Benedetto? What are they doing here?” His gaze fixed on me. “Don’t I know you?”
I bent to kiss his sleeve. “Alfeo Zeno, Your Excellency, apprentice to Doctor Nostradamus, the physician who-”
“The astrologer. Yes, I remember. He took advantage of an old man’s gullibility, and you were an insolent pest. What are you doing here? You, cover your face!” That last remark was directed at Bianca and the next to Benedetto. “You are supposed to be supervising the servants.”
Son and daughter hurriedly departed. His Excellency turned back to me.
I began at the beginning, with his father’s collapse. I did not get very far.
“ Who poisoned his wine?”
“That is what I am trying to-”
“Did my daughter see it happen?”
“Apparently not, Your-”
“Then I am confident it did not happen at all. If your charlatan master thinks he has evidence of foul play, he should take his suspicions to the Ten. I will not tolerate vicious gossip about my family or my late father and the next time you or he meddle in my affairs, boy, I will denounce him as a mountebank to the state inquisitors.”
Now he would turn his reptilian gaze on the nun. Violetta was veiled again, although I had not seen her move, but he might still recognize her as the celebrated courtesan. I had to distract him, which was easy enough. I can tolerate abuse directed at me, but I will not stand by and let people denigrate the Maestro.
“Mountebank, clarissimo? That horoscope you repeatedly described as a worthless piece of parchment would have saved your father’s life, had you or he paid better attention to it. My master warned him to beware the coming of the lover and he was murdered on the eve of the feast of San Valentino. I would have thought ten ducats was little enough to have paid for-”
Sier Enrico was quite smart enough to see the potential for ridicule if he tried to carry out his threat. His eyes bulged even farther. “Get out! Get out of here!” He wheeled around to Violetta. “Who are you and why are you here?”
“I am another charlatan.” She spoke with Medea’s voice. “Your manners may be forgiven on account of your bereavement, for which I offer my condolences and my prayers. Let us go, sier Alfeo.”
Enrico Orseolo snorted at hearing my title. He probably stood and watched us leave, but I did not turn around to look. I hate being seen off as much as any man does, but this did seem a propitious time to leave.
“Pretty girl,” Medea said as we descended the great staircase.
“I suppose so.”
“Suppose? I was frightened someone would step on your tongue, it was hanging out so far. And her father is absolutely charming. You are old playmates, are you, you two?”
“Something like that,” I admitted. “My master has a rule that a horoscope is confidential and must be delivered into the client’s own hand. I often have to talk my way up the chain, from skivvy to footman to majordomo to people with names. And then I have to collect the money, which can take several more visits. I got to know the Orseolo household quite well.”
She squeezed my arm. “In my profession we have other ways of dealing with the deadbeat problem.”
“You send bravos to cut throats?”
“Not yet. So far a discreet threat has always been enough.”
We reached the landing stage. Tethered boats were nodding gently on the Rio di Cavalleto. A gull standing on one of the brightly-colored posts regarded me seriously, but not without sympathy, I thought. Giorgio had tied up at a mooring several doors along, but he saw us and waved.
“I have friends who have rough friends,” Violetta said seriously. “If you want to learn more about the gang that attacked you, I can ask around. I’m sure the Ten will track them down long before I ever could.”
“And if they belong to some nobleman’s workforce,” I said, “the Ten will forget all about them.” When Giorgio pulled alongside, I said, “Back to the convent, please.”
16
S o now you will go on to Ca’ Tirali?” Sister Chastity inquired as we cuddled once more in the privacy of the felze.
“I do as my master tells me,” I said. “But I am convinced that the procurator was called to the Lord in the normal way. The truth may have to wait for Judgement Day. In mortal terms we have found no real motive, nor opportunity, because Bianca would have seen the crime committed.”
Violetta said, “Mm?”
I pricked up my eyebrows. “What am I missing?”
Minerva pulled loose from my embrace. “I think there is an obvious motive. How much was the supposed Euripides manuscript worth?”
“Perhaps nothing, if it is a modern fake. A handsome sum if it is an ancient fake. But even if it is the only surviving copy of a genuine play by Euripides of Athens from two thousand years ago, it is still just medieval paper or vellum with ink marks on it.” Whichever it was, it now rested in the secret compartment in the chest in my room. I might not get thousands for it, but I would certainly be able to buy some wonderful gift for my love, gold and rubies, the sort of miracle jewelry her patrons gave her. It was a thrilling thought.
“I think you’re wrong,” she said. “A unique item is not a bottle of wine or a loaf of bread, for which the state can decree a fair price. It will fetch whatever someone is willing to pay for it, and that is one ducat more than the second-most determined bidder can afford. The winner might not even be the richest bidder at the auction, just the craziest.”