But, as Valentina had taught him—in what seemed a lifetime away—the job wasn't done until you were clean away. Benito had done his homework. Two boats carrying fresh produce for the market in Messina left long before first light from Reggio di Calabria to have the crisp wares unloaded and in the market by dawn. This morning they took an uninvited fresh thief as well as their fresh vegetables. He had the grace to get off quietly on the Messina quay-side, carry a load of carrots to the waiting wagon, and even to steal only one carrot.
It was fairly woody, but, munching at the purple root as he went in search of a taverna, Benito found it remarkably pleasant. Sweet and tasty, even. His nose led him to a panetteria where stevedores were already buying hot ciabatta, before going on to a stall where a butcher was selling liver and tripe ragout from a steaming pot, at a copper a dip of the loaf. Benito felt in his pouch. He hadn't really investigated what his loot was yet.
What his fingers encountered was round—but not money. He stepped into a noisome alley to check it out.
He had to laugh. What he'd assumed was money was valuable all right. It just wasn't currency or saleable, except by priests. He had acquired some fifteen golden Hypatian medals. Four pilgrim medals, also golden, struck in Jerusalem, engraved with the pilgrim's name, some twenty-three pieces of silver of some foreign origin—a coin he'd never seen before—and . . . a ruby.
His ruby. Well, there was some justice in the world.
Chapter 53
Despite his hunger and tiredness, Benito set off in search of a Hypatian chapel. He would just drop the medals in the poor box or leave them in the font or something.
He found the chapel all right. This time luck wasn't with him. He slipped in quietly, only to have a Sibling emerge from the counseling booth as he approached the font.
"Can I help you, my son?" she asked gently. "Are you in need of counseling?
Benito took in the small, round, serious face of the woman in the pale Hypatian robe, liked the quiet calm in her eyes, and decided to chance honesty. "I've brought something that was stolen from the Church, back to it." He pulled out the golden Hypatian medals.
The Sibling looked, looked again, her eyes widening, then took a deep breath. "God be thanked! We have prayed for their return. May God forgive you for stealing them. I am so glad your conscience has made you bring them back to us."
A reasonable conclusion for her to have come to, but he decided he wasn't going to let it go. "Actually, I came upon them by accident."
The little Sibling looked sternly at him. "We are not going to prosecute you, young man. There is no need to lie to us. God knows the truth anyway."
He snorted. "Well, then, he knows I am telling he truth. I have just come over from Reggio di Calabria on the vegetable boats. I've never been here in my life before."
She looked doubtful, but there was a crack in the doubt. After all, he didn't have the local accent.
He laughed, which put another crack in her doubt. "I'll swear to it, my hand on the Bible. Or believe what you please." He shrugged. "I suppose I did steal them, but not from the Church. I took them from a fence in Reggio di Calabria, after he'd robbed me of my own property. I got my own back, and I got these as well."
Then it occurred to him that he had yet another card to play. "And I got some other things I'd like to see go to their rightful owners. They were headed for being melted down, I guess."
He produced the Jerusalem pilgrim medals. "They're worth," he felt the weight, "oh, maybe four ducats in raw gold. But they were really important to some people. They're named, but the names don't mean much to me. Except for this one, of course."
It was engraved: Carlo Sforza. Benito's father. Benito had been astonished when he found it among the others.
At a guess . . . after his defeat at the hands of Duke Enrico Dell'este, the Wolf of the North must have undertaken a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Someone had robbed his baggage. For the thief's sake, Benito hoped Sforza had never caught up with him.
The little Sibling gaped at the medals, at the name, at the scruffy young man holding them out to her.
"He'll have traveled incognito. I'd like his medal, and the others, to get back to their owners. I can offer some silver to see that it does."
Benito emptied out his pouch again, only keeping back the ruby. "All of this is stolen. All of it is too hot to handle, I suspect, because it was hidden with the medals. I've no idea who it belonged to. But I get the feeling it would be best used for the support of those who'll carry these to their owners. All I ever wanted was to get my own property back from that—" he killed the obscenity before it got to his tongue "—worm, who cheated me."
The Sibling shook her head in amazement. "God moves in mysterious ways," she said faintly.
Benito sighed. "Good lady, you've no idea just how mysteriously. And this time I can only assume He intervened directly. And now I am broke, hungry and tired. You'll excuse me, but I need to go and do something about all of these things."
The Sibling smiled; whatever doubts she'd had, they'd disappeared the moment that he turned out his pockets. "Well, it seems only right that seeing as you have brought our property back to us, we provide breakfast and a place to sleep." She raised an eyebrow with faint amusement. "The order has also offered a reward for the return of our property."
Benito's spirits lifted. "I don't suppose it's cash?"
"Well, no." The small round face dimpled. "You must know our order is sworn to poverty. But a medal, blessed by the holy Michael, our bishop, is worth having in its own right. He will be very pleased at the return of the medals. We use the sale of them to fund our charitable work. And we are sending a delegation to Rome in five months time. There is to be a convocation of the order, to discuss the new chapter houses and cloisters in Germany. We can use that opportunity to deliver the pilgrim medals to others of the order who will convey them onward to the owners."
She looked shyly at Benito. "Could I know who God's instrument was?"
Benito grinned. "Tell Sforza it comes back to him with the compliments of Benito. I think he'll know which Benito, if he thinks hard about it."
A thought occurred to him. "Sibling, I ended up retrieving your stolen property because when I wanted to change a jewel into cash, I was assumed to be a professional thief." Benito hoped he looked suitably horrified at the very idea. He stared very pointedly at her. "Actually, I have had the same reaction from other people."
The Sibling had the grace to look embarrassed. "You can speak like a nobleman born . . . but at first you sounded . . . and you look . . ."
"Scruffy. I have my reasons, Sister. They're honest enough for Father Eneko Lopez. You have heard of him?"
"Who has not? He is already famous in the order. A stern man," she added, a bit doubtfully.
"He's that, all right. But he is also a good man. A pious man, certainly. My journey has his blessing."
It was best not to say too much, he decided. The Hypatian Sibling might be closed-mouthed and as good as one of the choir of angels—but she might say something inadvertently to the wrong person. Venice was not popular with the Kingdom of Naples. Benito didn't need to spend time in a dungeon because he'd had too loose a tongue.