The Choice: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  However, Casanova surprised Benedict in many ways. It was true that the man was irreverent nearly to the point of blasphemy, and thus could maybe be accused of being an “affront to religion.” In his manner of speaking, he also gave every impression of being indifferent to the plight of others, or even his own, but that was not borne out by his actions.

  On Benedict’s first night in the Leads, Casanova shared his dinner. “It’s nearly certain they will bring you nothing tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow. I have a generous benefactor, Count Bragadin, who ensured I was given a stipend of sixty soldi per day. I have more than enough. You’ll need to arrange for someone to bring you a bed and perhaps a chair. I can ask the Count to take care of it, if you wish.”

  “Arrange for furniture?”

  “Yes. I’ll give you a blanket to lay on and another to use as a pillow, but if you are here for more than a few days, you will want a bed at the very least.”

  Benedict didn’t want to think of the possibility that he would be there more than one night, or maybe two. He hadn’t committed a crime.

  Over the next few days, Benedict found his cellmate to be well read and interesting to talk to, often displaying a wickedly funny, dry wit. It made the hours in the hellish heat tolerable.

  The only thing that really confused Benedict seemed to happen every evening. After the guards had left in the evening, a scraping sound could be heard over head. When Benedict first heard it, Casanova pretended that he could hear nothing. When Benedict insisted that something was scratching at the ceiling, Casanova acknowledged hearing the noise but credited it to rats.

  “There are rats the size of rabbits here.”

  “By the almighty, if that sound is being made by rats, they’d need to be the size of ponies,” countered Benedict.

  “They are just loud rats. Believe me, who would know better than I? If they break through, we’ll make saddles for them and ride out of here.”

  Then, after about four hours, the noise abruptly stopped, not starting again until the next evening.

  On Friday, Benedict learned from his lawyer that Llewellyn had not been able to find his daughter since the incident.

  “Is she safe?” asked Benedict.

  The lawyer had glanced pointedly at Casanova before answering. “I certainly hope so, sir, but I would have no way of knowing. As I said, her father hasn’t found her yet.”

  “MacIan, in case you didn’t catch his meaning,” said Casanova, “if he knows anything about Miss Llewellyn’s whereabouts, he couldn’t indicate that in front of me. I might be a spy. But I’m going to do you a favor. I’m going to turn my back. If he knows she is safe and well, he’ll hold up one finger. If he doesn’t know her whereabouts but she is assumed to be well, he’ll hold up two fingers. If he truly knows nothing or is too cowardly to tell you, he’ll shake his head. That way, you might get a meaningful answer and stop worrying. Although I fear that’s a vain hope.”

  Casanova did turn his back and to Benedict’s great relief the lawyer flashed one finger before saying, “I’m sorry, sir, as I said I have no way of knowing. However, I wanted you to know that I am trying to get the charges dropped. It’s likely they’ll make a determination on Monday.”

  Benedict sighed. He had slept on the floor for three nights so far, but he hadn’t made arrangements for a bed because he’d believed he’d be leaving. Now faced with at least three more nights in this hell that was the Doge’s prison, Benedict gave in and asked the lawyer to arrange for him to have a bed.

  “Don’t forget linens,” said Casanova. “Ask for extra linens. You’ll want two, maybe three sets.”

  It was on the tip of Benedict’s tongue to tell his cellmate that he would certainly not need extra linens because he would be released soon, but he stopped himself. He had no idea of whether he would be released soon or not. And even if he was, Casanova still had nearly four years to serve on his sentence. It would be rude to rub that in, and he seemed very keen on getting those linens. If Benedict was released, he’d leave them behind. It was the least he could do.

  On Monday, when his lawyer visited again, Benedict’s hopes all but died.

  “I’m sorry Signore MacIan, I was unable to convince the magistrate to drop the charges. You will stand trial on Thursday, after the holy days. I have brought you a change of clothing so that you may look presentable while in court.”

  “You look exceedingly grim. Are you not confident about your abilities to prove me innocent?”

  “No sir, I’m sorry to say, I am not.”

  “But I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You despoiled Reese Llewellyn’s daughter. And according to him, kept her locked away on your island. Once she was able, she ran from you and no one has been able to find her.”

  “Every word of that is false. We love each other. I intend to marry her.”

  “You can’t prove that. And the young lady is not available to testify.”

  “But without her, he can’t prove his story either.”

  “That’s true, but he is well capable of bribing those he needs to in order to prevail. I’m very sorry, sir, but the best we can hope for on Thursday is a lenient sentence.”

  A bed and linens were brought to his cell that evening. He laid on it and stared at the ceiling.

  “Cheer up, man. Perhaps your friends have been equally successful in bribing those needed to secure your release.”

  Somehow, Benedict doubted it.

  He remained morose throughout the evening. Casanova had tried to pull him into conversation, but Benedict could only think about Sara and how he’d let her down. However, eventually the silence was almost more oppressive than the heat.

  The silence?

  He looked at Casanova. “Do you hear that?”

  Casanova shook his head. “I hear nothing.”

  “That’s want I mean. The scratching hasn’t started.”

  “And it won’t.”

  “Were the rats captured?” Benedict asked scathingly.

  Casanova chuckled. “Now that I think on it, I don’t believe that scratching was caused by rats at all.”

  “Are you finally going to tell me what it was?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Several months ago, I was able to fashion a sharp spike out of a bolt I found. It was my plan to dig through the floor boards under my bed, drop into the gallery below, and escape. But my plan was thwarted when they found the hole. The moved me to this cell after that and as you are aware, they inspect every surface of it, every day.”

  “That would make it hard to dig through the floorboards again.”

  “It did. However, as fate would have it, I am acquainted with the prisoner whose cell is through that wall.” He pointed. “His name is Father Balbi and I took advantage of an opportunity to smuggle my spike to him. He was able to make a whole in his ceiling, crawl over and dig into ours. The ceiling there is nearly paper thin now. Tomorrow night, when the city is celebrating the feast of the Assumption, he will climb out one last time, break a hole into our ceiling, and we shall all three escape.”

  “Escape? Are you serious? What if we are missed before we are fully away?”

  “If that happened, our sentences would be doubled or tripled. But it won’t happen. Llewellyn may be able to bribe judges, but the Count bribed everyone else who will be in this building tomorrow night. They will turn a blind eye to everything until the next morning.”

  Benedict was shocked. “This could actually work.”

  “Or we could get ourselves killed. Equal chances, I’d say.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this from the start?”

  “Mainly because I knew nothing about you and there was at least a possibility that the charges would be dropped. You might have been tempted to tell someone, if it meant your release.”

  “I wouldn’t have done that.”

  “Yes, that’s what my sources tell me.”

  “Your sources?”

  “The less you know the
better.”

  “Fair enough. Is there anything we need to do to prepare?”

  “I’m not sure what we’ll encounter on the way out. It would be helpful to have some strong rope. As luck would have it, you have a nice supply of extra linens. We can fashion the rope from those.”

  Benedict chuckled. “You had a plan.”

  Casanova shrugged. “A good plan never goes astray. It may fail, but it is still useful to have.”

  “Well then, let’s get to it.”

  “You work on tearing the sheets into strips. Not too narrow, or they will be too weak. I’ll tie the knots. A poorly tied knot could ruin us.”

  Benedict arched an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve worked around ships my entire life. I know a thing or two about tying knots.”

  “While that may be true, in some endeavors, specifically those that put my neck at stake, I feel the need to complete critical tasks myself.”

  As they worked to create the rope, a thought occurred to Benedict. “What will I do when we escape? I don’t know where to go. I need to find Sara and get out of Venice, but I have no clue where she is.”

  “She will be waiting for you.”

  “Where, and for that matter, how, do you know that?”

  “I’m not completely certain where she is now, but sometime tomorrow, she will be spirited aboard a ship that will set sail for Portugal the instant you are on it Wednesday morning. And I know because I have lines of communication not available to everyone.”

  “Did you know all of this earlier when my attorney was here?”

  Casanova shrugged and nodded.

  “And you went through that whole one finger two finger charade?”

  “Oh, come on, that was fun. It made the man twitchy.”

  Benedict had to laugh.

  Together he and Casanova worked until they had thirty feet of strong rope. It was rolled and hidden under Casanova’s mattress by the next morning. His heart was lighter than it had been in days. Sara was safe and they’d be able to escape together.

  ~ * ~

  By next evening, the full import of what they were about to do weighed on Benedict. This could go seriously wrong and be disastrous. He thought of Sara, the remarkable woman he loved with his whole being who had been brought to him across time. What had she said the old woman told her? The universe unfolds as it should. Aye, he and Sara had found each other against all odds. He would get through this night and hold her in his arms again. That was the thought he had to hold firmly on to.

  At the usual time, after the guards were gone, the scraping on the ceiling started again.

  “Time to pack, my friend.” Casanova put a silk lined cloak on his bed and started laying his clothing on it.”

  Benedict frowned. “Pack? I have nothing to take, but the rope.”

  “But you do. You need to take that fine suit your lawyer brought you.”

  “Why?”

  Casanova shook his head as if he were dealing with a very slow child. “Because, MacIan, you look like a man who has been wearing the same clothes for days. Almost as if you have been in prison. If you happen to be seen after we leave, by someone who hasn’t been paid to look away, we don’t want to give them a reason to shout for the police. If we are dressed like gentleman, we could stop and have coffee in the piazza and no one would look at us twice.”

  What he said made sense, so as Casanova created a bundle of belongings and tore one of the remaining sheets to tie to the bundle as a strap. Benedict folded his suit and put it into a pillowcase, also creating a strap with a piece of torn sheet.

  Before long, the ceiling cracked and a hole opened up. A small, bookish man stuck his head through it. “We need to be on our way gentlemen.”

  They climbed up through the hole, finding themselves in a low attic space immediately under the peak of the sloping roof. The only thing separating them from the outside world was the lead plates. Together Benedict and Casanova worked to lift the panel. Between them, they managed to loosen one edge and bend it until there was enough room to squeeze through.

  Casanova stuck his head out and Benedict heard him swear.

  “What’s amiss?”

  “The moon is bright and as it’s a feast day. San Marco’s square will be filled with people. It’s too much to hope that we won’t be seen illuminated by the damnable orb.”

  Father Balbi panicked. “We have to go. It’ll be midnight soon.”

  “It’ll be midnight in two hours,” said Casanova dryly.

  The priest was working himself into a state. “But we can’t just stay here. There is no way to cover the damage to the cells now. We have to take our chances.”

  Benedict looked at Casanova. “How high is the moon? How long until it sets?”

  “We have about four hours.”

  Benedict put a hand on Father Balbi’s shoulder. “Father, no one will be back to check on the cells until after sunup. We will have six hours of darkness from when the moon sets until the sun rises. It is far better to wait here until we have a hope of not being seen.”

  It was perhaps the most nerve-wracking four hours of his life, made no better by Balbi’s endless moaning about their imminent failure.

  Finally, they were engulfed by darkness. They ventured out onto the roof, inching their way down, until they reached the gutter. The priest looked over the edge. “We should just jump into the canal and we’ll be away.”

  “Have you lost your mind, old man?” asked Casanova. “We are much too high. That would mean nearly certain death.”

  Benedict looked over the edge. “I think I could climb down to that dormer. We could attempt to get in through it.”

  Casanova nodded. “It’s worth a try.”

  Benedict climbed over the edge of the roof thinking he could hang from the edge and his feet would reach the dormer. But they didn’t. By all that’s good and holy. He was hanging by his fingers from the edge of the roof of the Doge’s palace. The only thing he could do was let go and hope he could catch himself on the dormer roof. He uttered a quick prayer and dropped.

  His feet hit the dormer and slipped to one side. He was falling and he grasped frantically, his fingers catching hold of the grate over the window. The grate, not intended to support the weight of a man swinging on it, began to loosen. Benedict managed to pull himself back onto the dormer before the grate gave way completely and fell into the canal.

  Given that he was safe, he realized the grate giving way was actually a blessing. They couldn’t have entered the window otherwise.

  “That was rather impressive,” said Casanova. “But Father Balbi here doesn’t think he has quite your athletic ability.”

  Benedict snorted. He suspected that wasn’t even close to what Father Balbi was saying. “I think I can break the window and get in. Then you can throw me the end of the rope. I’ll secure it inside and you can hold it at that end. Put your feet in the gutter as a brace.”

  “There is no way I can support the good father’s full weight.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s an easy enough drop if you don’t have to worry about losing your balance. The rope is just there to grab as he hits the dormer. Neither of you will fall.”

  Casanova shook his head and said, “I believe you, thousands wouldn’t,” even as he was dropping the rope to Benedict.

  Sitting on the roof of the dormer and using his heels, Benedict kicked in the glass, knocking as much of it out as he could before lowering himself off the roof, onto the sill, and into the room below. Wrapping the rope around his hand, he cleared the rest of the glass from the frame. Then he wrapped the rope around his body and braced himself against the wall. He called, “Ready when you are.”

  He felt the rope go taunt and then smiled as he heard Casanova arguing with Balbi. Finally, he heard the priest give a little cry, then heard the thunk of his feet hitting the dormer just as he felt the rope being yanked on. Since neither the priest, nor Casanova, went flying off the roof into the canal, he figured they were successfu
l. He let go of the rope, leaned out the window, and helped Balbi climb in. Then he leaned out again, looking up at Casanova.

  “It looks like I’ll have to jump as you did.”

  “Yes, but tie the rope around your waist before you climb over the edge. I’ll eliminate the slack before you drop and anchor this end. If you lose your balance the rope will catch you and we’ll be able to pull you in.”

  “As much as I hate to do it, it’s the only way.”

  Benedict wasn’t completely certain that he could catch the weight of a falling man, even braced as he was, but he needn’t have worried. Casanova dropped to the dormer and maintained his footing.

  Once they were all safely inside, Casanova broke the lock on the door. “Stay here. I’ll see if I can figure out where we are.”

  After a few minutes he came back, looking exceedingly well pleased. “This is a storage area on the highest level of the palace, well away from the prison cells. Now we simply need to change our clothes and make our way downstairs. We should be able to simply walk out.”

  It seemed easy enough, but trying to find their way through palace corridors and down to the main level in the dark was more challenging than they expected. When they finally found themselves at an exit and pulled on the door, it was locked.

  “We’re doomed. We’re doomed,” cried Father Balbi, yanking at the locked door.

  Moments later, a key turned in the lock and a guard opened the door. He smiled broadly at them. “Locked in, were you?” He stepped back holding the door for them. “Well, you can be on your way now.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Casanova as he strode confidently through the door and turned to walk towards the canal.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Benedict following Casanova.

  The priest mumbled something unintelligible and practically ran past the guard.

  “Where to now?” asked Benedict.

  “I believe a gondola awaits us.”

  And sure enough, it did. They climbed into the gondola and were rowed away from San Marco. Before long, the gondolier steered towards a longboat in the lagoon.

  To Benedict’s great relief, Emilio Santi waited in the boat.

  “This is where you leave us, MacIan,” said Casanova. “I must say, the Lord and I have had a rather rocky relationship recently, but this adventure would never have been successful without your assistance. So, while I know the last few days were trying for you, I consider them a blessing.” He offered Benedict his hand.