The Masquers
Page 17
They lay quietly in each other’s arms, each taking comfort in the other’s nearness. Each wondered silently if this was the last time they would be together. After awhile they made love, and Fosca slept. Raf dressed quickly and quietly, and slipped away.
From Fosca’s casino, Alessandro went to his offices. There would be a lot to do now that the government had formally declared the Republic to be in mourning for a man who had been dead a week. The funeral would take place immediately, followed by the preliminary stages of the election process. As leader of the conservatives, he would have to muster votes, count heads, assure attendance at the conclaves', and keep the reins of government safely out of the hands of the liberals. Ordinarily such a prospect would have excited him. Now he felt curiously empty of feelings. He wouldn’t care if Tomasso Dolfin got himself elected Doge.
He knew what he should do about Fosca: report the Jew to the Inquisitors and let them handle the situation. But that would be an admission of blindness, and an invitation to mockery. What a joke—Loredan cuckolded by the man who refused to take the commission from him, and took his wife instead.
Salvino was waiting for him. Alessandro ignored the pile of messages and papers and important communications that littered his desk. He sat down heavily and said, “Is it true that you offered to keep silent about what you knew, in exchange for my wife’s favors?”
The secretary went pale and started to tremble. “It was only a ruse, Excellency. A means of verifying my information! If she had accepted, I would have known that she was guilty of consorting with the Jew!”
“If she had accepted, I would think her even madder than I do already,” Alessandro said wearily. “Get out of here, Pietro. Don’t come back. Don’t come back to Venice, or I’ll have you arrested and thrown into the Tombs.”
“But Excellency—”
“Get out of here, you damned cripple!” Alessandro shouted. “Before I maim your other leg and put humps all over your body! Out!”
Salvino skittered out of the room. Alone in his office, Alessandro Loredan moaned softly and dropped his head forward onto his arms.
The hunchback scribbled a note. According to the law, all accusations of misconduct had to be signed by the accuser in order for the Inquisitors to consider them, but everyone knew that they carefully investigated every charge they received.
Pietro limped along the loggia, the wide, columned porch that ran around the inner side of the Doge’s Palace. He stopped in front of the Lion’s Mouth, a hideous and distorted face whose gaping mouth opened into a secret box in the Inquisitors’ chambers. A motto was inscribed underneath: “For Accusations against Traitors to the Serene Republic.” He looked around furtively. Clusters of Senators and Council members stood nearby, deep in discussions about the forthcoming election. No one was watching him. He slipped his denunciation into the Lion’s Mouth, which gulped it greedily. Its stone eyes seemed to shine. Now let the Inquisitors take care of the whore, the Jew, and the nobleman, Pietro thought. He had done his duty.
Raf returned to the ghetto. He went first not to his house, but to his friend Malachi’s office.
The little man was distraught enough to ignore the prohibition against speaking to the excommunicated Jew.
“Rafaello, they were here, the agents of the Inquisitors! They searched all our houses, and they spent a long time in yours. They said they were searching for treasonous materials. They took some things out of your study, books and papers.”
Raf nodded. So Loredan had told the Inquisitors after all. He was surprised. He hadn’t expected action this soon.
“That means they could arrest me at any moment. Listen, Malachi, how much cash can you raise by tonight? I need as much as I can get, in exchange for the contents of the house and my warehouses, La Maga—as much as you can take before they confiscate everything. I don’t know that it’s a very good deal, but—”
“I will try my best, Rafaello, you know that. There are others in the ghetto who feel as you do about the government and Loredan. Like me they are too afraid to speak out. But they will help you to escape, I am sure of it. What about your aunt, and the girl, your cousin?”
“Will you look after them? I’ll sign over the rights to my house to you, Malachi. The Inquisitors will probably seal it off for a while, but they’ll let you occupy it eventually.”
“But where will you go? How long will you be away? Oh, why have they come down on you like this all of a sudden, Rafaello? What have you done? Ah, you’re so young, so hot-headed—”
Raf smiled wanly and put his big hand on Malachi’s thin shoulder. “Don’t go saying the Kaddish for me yet, Malachi. I intend to live a good, long life. If you must know, they’re after me because I have fallen in love with a Christian woman, a noble.”
Malachi gasped, horrified. “Oh, you really are insane! A Christian! Don’t I have three daughters, all beautiful girls, and you have to go chasing Christians! This is the last straw! I wash my hands of you!”
Raf laughed and embraced the furious Malachi. “Don’t write me off until after I’ve gone, eh, Malachi? Just wait until tomorrow.”
His aunt was distressed and frightened. “I don’t understand, Rafaello. What did they want? They took some things—I don’t know why! It’s that woman, isn’t it? It’s all her fault!”
“It’s the fault of the rest of the world that won’t let us be happy, ” Raf told her. “Don’t worry, Aunt Rebecca, I’ve arranged everything. You’ll live with Malachi's family—”
“What? But his wife is an idiot, a bird-brain! We could never live under the same roof!”
Raf sighed. “Then you’ll have to show everyone what a good diplomat you can be. I’m giving this house to Malachi. You can stay here, you and Lia. You’ll look after her?”
“Of course! She’s like my own child. But where are you going? Can you write to me? Why did you have to go speaking out like you did!”
Raf put his hands on her shoulders and said firmly,
“For once, be quiet and do as I say, Aunt Rebecca. I’m selling everything to Malachi and some others. I need the money. Start packing away the things you want to keep. Where’s Lia?”
“I wish I knew! Everybody’s gone crazy! She was away half of last night, and most of this morning, too, and then the police came here and I didn’t have any idea where you were or when you were coming back!”
Raf held her close and kissed her wrinkled cheek. “I’m sorry, Aunt Rebecca. I’ll try to make it up to you sometime. I’ll come back, I swear it. Just think of it as another voyage. Now leave me alone. I need to pack a few things. The police could be back at any time.” Leaving his aunt wringing her hands, Raf went to his room. He dragged out the leather-covered trunk he always took on long voyages and started to throw his things into it. He never let his aunt pack for him; she was too fussy about the condition of his clothes and kept whisking items away to be mended.
“You’re going away?” He looked up. Lia stood in the doorway. Her arms were folded tight against her waist. Her eyes seemed enormous, fathomless. As usual when he saw her looking at him like that, Raf felt a pull at his heart. “Why? Why do you have to go?”
“The Inquisitors don’t like my revolutionary sentiments,” he said with a resigned shrug. “Listen, Lia, be a good girl and help Aunt Rebecca.”
“It’s because of that woman, isn’t it?” she said.
“Yes,” he said after a pause. “Because of her. We want to be together, and so we have to run away.”
She swallowed and her eyes blurred with tears. She shook her head angrily to drive them away, and watched him silently for a few minutes. Then she came further into the room and closed the door behind her. He looked at her, surprised.
“I betrayed you,” she said softly. “I followed you last night. I heard her boasting that she was Fosca Dolfin Loredan. I told Pietro Salvino, the hunchback. I betrayed you, Raf.”
He stared at her unbelievingly. “Why, Lia?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “Why
?”
She shrugged. “Because I wanted you. And you wanted her.”
He looked away and tossed a few shirts into the open maw of the trunk. He let out his breath. “Well, it doesn’t matter. They would have found out anyway, sooner or later. Spies following us wherever we went—. It was inevitable. Go help Aunt Rebecca, will you, Lia? You can stay here, with her. You’ll be quite safe. They have nothing against the two of you, only against me.”
“No,” she said. “You don’t understand. Do you remember the night you found me, when Nero was beating, me up in that alley? And you saved me and brought me here and pretended to everyone that I was your family? You were meant to do that, to bring me here. He planned it. Salvino, the hunchback.”
He gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I was his spy. He said that he would put me in jail if I didn’t help him. We followed you that night. Once you got past the Merceria, we saw which way you were going and ran ahead. I didn’t really expect it to work. Why would anyone be crazy enough to take a dirty little stranger into his house? But I didn’t know you then.”
“You? A spy? For the Inquisitors?” He stood facing her. He couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.
“No, I told you, for Salvino, for Loredan. The hunchback picked me up in the Piazza, the same day you made your speech to the Senate. He said if I persuaded you to take me in, he would pay me. And so I lived in your house, and I listened to your conversations, and I told him everything I saw and heard.”
“I don’t believe you.” He dug his fingers into her shoulders. She didn’t flinch. “I don’t believe you!”
“It’s true. I’m not lying. I’m not fourteen, like I said. I’m sixteen. I’m not a child. I’m a woman. I wanted you from the first moment you picked me up in your arms and spoke kindly to me. I fell in love with you. You treated me like a little girl, and all the time I wanted you so badly that it was like a pain inside me. Pietro followed us, and he knew I was here. It wasn’t any good pretending to him that I couldn’t find anything out about you, and so I told him what I could. About the visit of the rabbis. And about the woman you brought home that night. I left the ghetto even while she was here and told him. He was waiting at the gates in the morning, to see her when she left. I hated what I was doing. I should have left here, run away to another city. I guess I only stayed because I wanted to be near you. And now it’s over. I’ve lost you. And I can go. It doesn’t matter where. I can work anywhere. I can earn money just lying on my back.”
He hit her hard with his open hand. Her head jerked to the side and he hit her again. She made no move to shield her face from the blows. He struck her again and again, until her eyes began to swell and her ears started to ring. She slumped against the wall. He picked her up by the shoulders and shook her like a dog shakes a rat. “Little whore! Judas! Lying trash!”
“Rafaello! Rafaello! ” His aunt pounded at the door. “What’s going on in there!”
He thrust Lia aside and opened the door. When his aunt saw the battered girl she cried out and opened her arms.
“Don’t touch her!” Raf said, pulling her back. “She’s a filthy spy. Loredan’s man planted her here. It was all planned. She’s made fools of us, both of us.” He was panting, sweating. “Get out of here, you little whore, before I kill you!”
“No, no, Rafaello,” Aunt Rebecca pleaded, “don’t send her away! Don’t leave me, Lia! Don’t go!”
Lia shook her head dazedly, trying to clear away the fog of pain. She dragged herself to the door and leaned heavily against the frame. She turned her head and looked at Raf over her shoulder. His face was brick red, distorted by fury and hatred.
“I love you, Raf,” she whispered through swollen lips. “I will always love you.” She went down the stairs and out of the house. She took nothing because she had come with nothing.
Raf held Rebecca until they heard the door to the outside close. Then he released her, and she collapsed weeping into his arms.
Tomasso Dolfin went to Ca’ Loredan to collect Fosca’s things, as Raf instructed. He told Emilia that Fosca was leaving Venice immediately and that she wanted her trunks packed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emilia said. “She never said anything to me. And what about the master? Does he know about this?”
“I’ll just have to pack them myself,” Tomasso said, shouldering his way past her into Fosca’s boudoir. “Now where does she keep all that stuff?”
“Wait just a minute, Signor Tomasso,” said Emilia firmly. “I won’t let you touch her things. Your hands aren’t even clean! I want to see her. I don’t trust you.”
Sighing patiently, Tomasso sat the woman down and told her everything. “The Jew!” Emilia gasped. “I knew it! I knew she had someone, but not him! Oh, no, she must have lost her senses. Oh, my poor Fosca!”
“Your poor Fosca needs you now, Emilia,” Tomasso said sternly. “If you ever loved her, now’s your chance to prove it.”
Emilia shook her head violently. “She never listened to anyone. She’s headstrong and stubborn as a brick wall! She never gave Loredan a chance, and now it’s too late. She’s throwing away her life on this traitor—and you, you had a hand in it! I might have known!”
“Well, I see I’ll really have to pack this stuff myself,” Tomasso said with resignation. “Now what would I take if I were eloping with my lover?”
“Where are they going?” Emilia demanded.
“I don’t know. China. Africa.”
“Africa!” Emilia shrieked. She was torn. She wanted to sound the alarm, rouse the household, send a messenger to the Palace for Signor Loredan. She didn’t want to lose her charge, who was dearer to her than her own children. But she didn’t want Fosca to be punished, to be shut away for the rest of her life. Yet—she had a responsibility to her master as well as to her mistress.
As soon as Tomasso saw the look of righteousness in her eyes, he produced a small pistol from the folds of his cloak. “I didn’t really want to do this, old darling,” he said regretfully. “Now be a good girl and do as I ask, or I will hurt you. I won’t kill you, but you may never dance again. Of course I can’t even guarantee that. I’m a terrible shot.”
Emilia’s mouth felt dry. She swallowed and nodded, relieved that the burden of decision had been taken off her shoulders.
Fosca and Raf sailed on the evening tide, on a Dutch trading ship bound for Rotterdam. They planned to travel from Holland to France. Tomasso had given Raf the names of some French Jacobins in Paris, some people important to the revolutionary cause.
When the ship was well out to sea, they went up on deck and watched the last fading shapes of the floating city in the lagoon. They stood at the rail until the mists obscured Venice, then they went below again, to their cabin.
“A new life,” Fosca breathed ecstatically. “I can hardly believe it! You won’t regret it, Raf, I promise you. I’ll be like a wife to you, the best wife in the world. I’ll make up for the trouble and pain I’ve caused. Perhaps someday we can send for your aunt and cousin.”
“No, they’ll be all right,” he said tersely. “Don’t think about them. Think about the future.”
“The future! We’ve never had a future before, have we?” She laughed. “Things do work out for the best after all.”
“Of course they do,” Raf smiled feebly. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “God, I’m tired.”
“I know,” said Fosca sympathetically, sitting down beside him on their narrow bunk. “You’re so brave and clever. Who would have thought that we would be sailing for Holland tonight, and that we would be going to Paris! Oh, Paris! I was so excited when Tomasso told me. I’ve always longed to go there. The fashions! The theater! The King and Queen—did you know that my hairdresser, Monsieur de Valle, used to do Marie Antoinette’s hair and he says she’s not nearly so beautiful as everyone claims. And I know the Venetian ambassador—and old friend of my father’s.”
“Of course, darling,” she said meekly.
“And there’s a very good chance that Loredan won’t let things rest. Nor will the Inquisitors. They may even have us followed. If we draw attention to ourselves—visiting the Venetian ambassador—it could be disastrous.”
“You mean it’s still not over? We’re still not free?” Fosca wailed despairingly. “Oh, it’s not fair, Raf! Why won’t they leave us alone?”
He said tonelessly, “We’ll just have to accept it, Fosca, and learn to live with danger. It won’t be forever. But we’ll have to be very careful, until we’re sure they’re not after us. I’m sorry, Fosca. I should have told you all this earlier.”
“No, no, it wouldn’t have made any difference, Raf,” she said. “I would have wanted to come anyway, really. How silly I must have sounded, empty-headed, just like the old Fosca. Vain and selfish and shallow! I'm so sorry. I was thinking only of myself and I just didn’t bother—Don’t worry, dearest. I will live in a cave, and wear rags and eat nuts and berries if I must, so long as I can be with you.”
“I hope it won’t come to that.” He put his arms around her and she snuggled close.
“Just the two of us,” she murmured contentedly. “Forever and ever.” She noticed his constraint. He seemed so withdrawn and thoughtful. “What’s bothering you, Raf? Something else is troubling you. Please tell me.”
“We were betrayed,” he said.
“Of course we were. By Pietro Salvino.”
“No. By Lia. She was his spy.”
“But I don’t understand. Your cousin betrayed us?”
“No, we just called her that—he tricked me into taking her in—so that she could spy on us. She confessed to me, before I left. I—I hit her. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never done that to any woman before. I hit her, again and again.”