The First Sin

by Jessica Brawner

  The walk around Vatican City took hours. The shopping district was delightful, with young women wearing the newest frock designs standing in large shop windows. After that we entered a mixed district; tall houses interspersed with small specialty shops and food vendors. As we continued, the districts became poorer and more run down. All along the road were shrines to the various saints, and pilgrims leaving offerings of food and alms.

  Picking our way through the roiling tide of humanity in one of the poorer districts, we heard a commotion. Rounding the corner, we reached the edge of a lower wall, made of grey, rough, base stone, without the same decorations and care that signified the wall of Vatican City.

  Two burley men were beating a boy of about twelve with coach whips.

  Shocked, I shouted at them, "Monsieurs! Stop that!” I ran up with Seamus close on my heels and grabbed the arm of the man about to swing. “What has the lad done?" I asked in the trade tongue that most port city dwellers could understand.

  The man looked startled and in fluent Italian told me what he thought of my mother.

  Pretending more shock than I felt, I put myself between the men and the boy. In fluent Italian I shouted, "How dare you beat this boy! Why, he is not even half your size, and before the gates of the convent, too!"

  Glancing behind me at the boy, I asked, "Are you much hurt?"

  The lad shook his head, wincing. "No signora."

  Seamus had the second man with his arm twisted behind his back. "Let me at him! You've got no right to stop me. The rotten little thief stole a chicken off my cart," the man shouted.

  I looked at the boy. He was stick thin and looked like he hadn't eaten in some time. Fear widened his eyes, and a dark bruise stood out along one cheekbone.

  "Did you steal a chicken?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

  "Sì signora. I was hungry. I haven't eaten in two days." The boy’s pathetic eyes widened further..

  Turning back to the man in front of me, I asked, "How much was the chicken?"

  "Ten denarii," he snapped. "But you should just let me beat him. Otherwise he will never learn."

  I counted the money out of my pouch and handed it over. The other man, seeing there was no fight to be had, stopped struggling. Seamus let go of his arm, but kept a wary eye on him. The boy, taking the opportunity to make a break for it rushed past. I grabbed the back of his collar and held on tightly.

  "Merci, sirs. We will take care of him from here." I held the struggling boy firmly by the back of his neck as the two men walked away grumbling.

  "What are you going to do now, signora?" The boy asked, casting a glance back over his shoulder.

  "What is your name, boy?" I replied, looking over the sorry state of his clothing.

  "Niccolò, signora. Niccolò Acconci! Thank you saving me a beating! They don't normally catch me, but a black cat crossed my path as I was making my escape, and as everyone knows, if a black cat crosses your path you must immediately turn around three times while saying a prayer to the Virgin mother."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Is that so, Niccolò? I will keep it in mind as I travel the city. Tell me, do you know the city well?" I glanced up at Seamus and shrugged. He rolled his eyes in amusement.

  "Sí, signora, I know it like I know my own face! Do you need an inn? Some place to stay? The best food in town? I can tell you where to find all of that and more!"

  I laughed. "If we buy you dinner, will you tell us about the city?"

  Niccolò’s eyes lit up at the prospect of food. "Anything you want to know, signora! I know people everywhere,” he boasted.

  "Where is the nearest inn with decent food?" Seamus asked gruffly.

  Niccolò looked over the quality of our clothing and sized us up. "The Goose and Goblet is the nearest, but The Cup and Sword has better food."

  "Take us to The Cup and Sword. A little more walking won't kill us."

  Niccolò led us through the twisting, winding, increasingly dark roads of Rome, talking without taking so much as a breath, it seemed, all along the way.

  The Cup and Sword was well lit, and the smells from the kitchen confirmed Niccolò’s assertion regarding the inn’s fine food. A table near the fireplace opened up just as we arrived. Niccolò eeled his way through the crowd with a practiced ease to claim it.

  A harried-looking server swept by, collecting the previous occupants’ mugs. "What'll you be having?" She peered at the lad then looked over at me and smiled. "Ah, I see you've been found by Niccolò. Watch out for this one miss, he can get you anywhere you need to go in the city, but oy the tongue on him." She threw a mock cuff in his direction, swinging her hand around to ruffle his hair.

  Niccolò ducked reflexively, "Still too slow to catch me! Flora don't you tell no tales on me! These nice folks are going to buy me dinner! They said so! Didn't you, signora?"

  "Indeed I did." I smiled with amusement. "Flora, bring us the house special, please. And I’d like a glass of wine."

  Seamus and Niccolò ordered, and she went to get us drinks.

  "So Niccolò, how did you come to steal a chicken. Are your parent’s so hard off that you must steal food?”

  “Oh signora. My parents, may God rest their souls, sold me to a poorhouse. The master there sold me to work for a tanner, but the tanner fell into one of his vats of tanning fluid and died after a month. His wife didn’t like me, and wouldn’t feed me, and so I ran away. I think maybe she was afraid I would tell the policia that she pushed her husband into the vat where he died. She did, but since he beat her regularly, I really thought perhaps he deserved it.

  That was last year. Now I have no place to live, and not much to eat, but I am free as a bird.” He said all of this without taking a breath, and paused only when Flora arrived with the food. Niccolò greedily accepted the plate and began spooning food into his mouth at an astonishing rate.

  I watched horrified and bemused, wondering how much of his story was true. When he finished his first plate of food I asked, “Do you swear you can get us anywhere in the city?" I studied the boy with a raised eyebrow. My expression betokened doubt at his proclaimed abilities.

  "Yes! Or if I can't signora then I know people who can."

  Flora returned with another round of drinks and a second plate of food for Niccolò and set them down with a clatter. She ruffled Niccolò’s hair with an affectionate hand. "You stay out of trouble."

  He mock-scowled at her, "Now what fun would that be?"

  I watched the interplay with interest and when Flora went to help another customer I nodded. “I think we could use someone who knows the city well. What do you think a guide would charge?” I knew the answer, but wanted to see how Niccolò would respond.

  Turning to me he said, "I think you will hire me as a guide signora. I am very helpful. And I don’t charge as much as others."

  I laughed, "And how much would you charge?"

  “For someone as beautiful and intelligent as yourself, a mere five denarii a day.” Thinking, he added, “And one meal.” He said all of this with a solemn expression of serious negotiation.

  Reining in my amusement so as not to damage his young ego, I countered. “I will pay you one denarii and one meal, and you will be available at sunrise each day that you work for me.”

  We dickered good-naturedly back and forth as Seamus and I watched Niccolò put away enough food to feed three men. When he was done eating we shook hands.

  "We are agreed. Two denarii a day plus all the food you can eat.” I eyed the empty dishes littering the table. “Which is apparently quite a lot."

  "Signora I have learned you must eat when there is food, because there may not always be food."

  "Wisely said, my young friend," Seamus replied with a chuckle. "Meet us at our ship, the Sirena Bellissimo, tomorrow morning at six."

  "Sí, signore, I will be there." Niccolò stood and disappeared into the crowd.

  I paid the tavern keeper for our dinner. Seamus was silent until we were outside.

  "Cap
tain, are you sure hiring a child was a good idea? We know nothing of him. Does he have any other family? Are his parents still alive? Who sells their child to a poorhouse." The last was said almost angrily.

  Sighing I said, "Don't let Niccolò hear you calling him a child. I suspect he would be offended. But as to your initial question, I don't know. I like having options, and at worst, we feed him for a few days, have him run a few errands, and I will pay him out of my portion. Assuming he even shows up. He just looked so very hungry."

  I tried not to breathe too deeply as the smell of the thousands of unwashed pilgrims who travelled to the city daily assaulted us. A miasma of sweat, ordure, and coal smoke hung over everything. It was late and the streets were emptying as we made our way back to the airfield. In the distance above us we could hear the thrum of the Vatican airship patrols. The long, sleek airships built for speed and maneuverability protected the airspace around Vatican City from intruders. They were about half the size of The Indiana and had directional lights that would occasionally cut a swath of brilliance across the darkness as if searching for something.

  The next morning Niccolò, looking hungry and eager showed up right on time. "What are we doing today, Captain?” He bounded on board full of energy.

  "Well first, you need to meet the crew." I gave a loud whistle and the crew gathered on deck. Nina and Tyler were both wincing in the light, and Tyler was rubbing his temples. Introductions were made all around.

  "This," Niccolò declared, "Is a good ship."

  I raised an eyebrow at him. "And how can you tell?" I asked with some amusement.

  "Everyone is smiling, and no-one is too thin," he replied, poking at Marie. Marie scowled at him and swatted his hand away.

  I nodded at this observation. "I believe you are owed breakfast, and then we will talk." He followed me back to my cabin, and a breakfast of oatmeal and fruit. I watched Niccolò tuck into the food like a drowning man gulping for air. Eat when you can…. He will look healthier with a few solid meals inside him, I thought.

  "So, my young friend, we are doing something dangerous in our endeavors. I do not wish you to get hurt, but I must know if I can trust you. You understand this? If you do not wish to help, I will pay you for so long as we remain in port, three or four days, perhaps a week, and you may do small chores about the ship. But when we leave here you will stay in Rome, somewhat better off, but still on your own. If you choose to help us, you will be in danger, but you can remain on the ship and become part of the crew. I demand a great deal of loyalty from my crew. As crew, we each hold each other’s lives in trust. You understand this, oui?"

  "Sí signora," he said around a mouthful of apple. "I owe you my life. You shall have my loyalty.”

  "It is good we understand one another. So then, to business. There are rumors of tunnels leading from Rome into Vatican City. Do you know if they actually exist?"

  "Oh sí signora, the priest tunnels are no great secret. Not to those who live in Rome. Everyone knows that's how the priests bring in the Sisters, or their mistresses after dark. The problem with the tunnels is that there are locked gates all throughout, and it is very, very easy to get lost if you don't know where you are going. There are stories too..." Niccolò shivered.

  "What stories?" I asked.

  He jumped, startled, eyes wide. "People turn up dead down there, bodies mangled with their arms torn off or worse. Last month someone found a head with no body and the brain had been removed. There was hole, a perfect circle in the back of his head. Sometimes, I have heard this myself, you can hear strange clanking and scraping — like a clank, but different, higher pitched and unnerving. If you are not a priest or accompanied by a priest, your chances of returning from the tunnels alive, are not good."

  "I see. So if one wanted to, theoretically mind you, arrange to visit someone in Vatican City after dark, and one wasn't a priest or mistress, what would be the best way?" I sipped my coffee.

  A dull red blush crept up Niccolò’s neck, and he stared resolutely at the table. “I have heard signora, if a lady wishes to pay a visit to… a guardsman for instance, that a donation to the convent of the Poor Clares at the east gate will ensure that certain gates will be left carelessly unlocked." Niccolò tisked and shook his head. “But that is about the only way to get through those locked gates without a key— the Vatican uses Meridol-84 locks. They are nearly impossible to pick.” He eyed the sugar dish with wide eyes and scooped another bite of oatmeal into his mouth.

  I filed the information away as I pushed the sugar dish closer and smiled. He reached for it greedily. “And if one wanted to visit the Pope in his chambers?"

  Niccolò laughed. “You jest. Who would want to do that? Besides, all of the Holy Father's servants are priests, signora, and known to the guard." He took another bite of oatmeal. "Though if the rumors are true he occasionally does call one of the sisters to his chambers for confession. I have never heard of anyone else visiting him—but I do not hear everything.”

  “Signora working for you just for the food would almost be worth it. But,” he hastened to add, “Since a man must pay his debts then I will stick to our original deal. Do you have my denarii?”

  I grinned at the avaricious gleam in his young eyes. “Here is your payment. Now, are you quite done eating? If so, you can clear up your mess while I deal with a few other things.”

  He looked startled and a little surprised as I pointed him in the direction of the galley. "We all pull our weight here, and you must, too."

  I left him working and went to find Seamus. He was in the weapons locker, a small room housing most of the ship’s explosives and weaponry, cleaning and oiling knives. Each of the crew members had their own personal favorites. The room smelled of grease, leather and chemicals.

  “I have the beginnings of a plan.” I sat down on one of the empty benches.

  Seamus looked up, “And how many of us will be getting our asses shot off?”

  “Probably just me and Tyler. I'll need the rest of you to standby with getaway vehicles.”

  Seamus grunted. “Well, that's something at least. Let's hear this plan of yours Captain.”

  “On the next Pilgrim’s Day we will gain access to the palace, map out as much as we may, and locate the Pope’s quarters. Then we will acquire two nun’s habits, one for me one for Tyler, leave an offering with the Poor Clares, go in through the tunnels at night and, using the map, make our way back to the palace. From there we’ll have to go aboveground to the Pope’s quarters.” I paced in the small space, thinking.

  “When we arrive at the Pope's quarters, we will have to deal with his personal bodyguards. Marie's bees and Henri's sleeping serum have proven most effective in the past. We will take several doses with us and use those to get past the guards.” I stopped pacing to look at Seamus.

  “Aye, these bees are a wonder of mechanical craftsmanship.” He fingered the one on his collar, held there by a small magnet. I had a matching thumb sized one on my lapel. If he were to pull off the magnet the tiny wings would activate, and it would fly about twenty feet and sting whatever it landed on. Marie loaded the small needle like stingers with a fast-acting sleeping serum. They had saved us on several occasions and were easy to pass off as jewelry or ship's insignia.

  “I would rather not have to kill anybody for this idiocy. The bees will help. With the guards asleep, we will retrieve the hat. We’ll try to leave the way we come in.” I looked up at him. “Do you think The Inara will be able to make it in to Vatican City without being detected by the airships above, or the guards below?” I pondered this as an alternate exit route.

  "I dunna think so Captain. Even with all her fancy changes, your little airhopper is bloody loud." Seamus stroked his chin. "We'd have to see where the Papal apartments are, but if they're close enough to the outer walls do ya think ya could shoot a rope from the apartment to the walls and slide down it, Jones style?"

  "You mean like Jones did in the fable about rescuing the ungrateful princess
from the savages? Do you think we could use such an old trick?" I grinned at the thought. "And they say tradition is dead."

  "I would bet Marie could rig something up that would hold both you and Tyler, and we can have The Inara waiting right outside the walls to get ya back here again. They will still notice the noise, but they may not spot you right away." He rubbed his hands together and cracked his knuckles gleefully. "This will be fun after all."

  I rolled my eyes. "I think we should leave something for Monsieur the Pope in return for his hat." I thought for a few moments, idly spinning one of Seamus's daggers on the bench. "I have it! A pilgrim’s hat would be just the thing. A more humble Pope would be to everyone's benefit, and pilgrim's hats are easy to come by."

  "With some fine-tuning, this sounds like a fine plan. Simple and elegant. Let's see what the others have to say." Seamus sheathed his knives and put his cleaning supplies away.

  "Seamus, gather the crew. I'll see if young Niccolò has finished cleaning up his breakfast."

  "Niccolò, tell me, how well do you know Vatican City?" I asked as he finished cleaning up.

  "Not so well, signora. I have only been there a few times on the pilgrim's days," he said, wiping the last of the water off his plate.

  I nodded. "We will have to do some reconnaissance then. The next pilgrim’s day is in ten days. We will scope it out more fully. Do you know, does the Pope hear confessions of minor nobles?"

  "I believe so signora. Though they must request an audience." He looked at me with some puzzlement. "Do you know any nobility?"

  I put my hand on his shoulder. "One needn't actually be nobility to dress and act the part. How would you like to be my page?" I replied.

  Niccolò looked puzzled. "Do I have to wear a uniform?"

  "Sort of," I responded.

  "I do not like uniforms, but you are paying me, so I will do it," he said decisively.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to hide a smile. "Come, let us tell the others the plan."