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 floorboards 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 successful. 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.
Benedict took it, shaking it firmly. “I suppose He isn’t quite finished with either of us yet.”
“I suppose not, but I fear I will continue to disappoint Him.”
Benedict laughed. “Perhaps, but I understand He’s the forgiving type.”
“Let’s hope so. Farewell, Benedict. Godspeed.”
“Farewell, Giacomo. I hate to ask this, but I fear I must. If you ever find yourself in a position to tell the story of this unbelievable escape, would you mind omitting me from it? I don’t ever want Reese Llewellyn to find us or have anything to hold over me.”
“Ah, it will be a thrilling story, but made all the more so when I am the only hero.”
Benedict chuckled as he watched the gondola disappear into the misty darkness of the early morning.
“Now we have to get you out of here,” said Emilio, motioning to the men who manned the oars.
Chapter 20
Sara had burst into tears when she’d heard the news on Monday that the charges against Ben would not be dropped. She was terrified by the prospect of him trying to escape from prison. So much could go wrong.
“Or, it could all go like clockwork and you and Ben will be headed to Portugal on Wednesday with a brilliant story to be able to tell your grandchildren,” said Zina. “Stay hopeful Sara. Giving into despair will serve no one.”
Zina was right and, once Sara had managed to pull herself together, she vowed to remain strong and positive until she was in Ben’s arms again.
They received a message late in the day that Santi would arrive before daybrea
k on Tuesday and if all was clear he’d take Sara to the ship. He didn’t want to leave it too long and run the risk of hitting obstacles. After all, it was a feast day and the streets would be teeming by afternoon. But he also didn’t want to risk running into Llewellyn. So, Zina devised a system to alert Santi to Llewellyn’s presence. It was simple, if the windows to the room Sara occupied were only half open, he was there. If they were fully open he was not.
As luck would have it, Llewellyn hadn’t visited Zina that evening.
Several hours before dawn, Zina had tapped on her door and entered.
“What are you doing up so early?” asked Sara.
“I could ask you the same thing of you, but I know the answer and I’m up for the same reason. I thought I’d sit with you and spend our last few hours together. You’re the only other time traveler I’ve ever met and I liked having you here. I’ll miss you.”
“Oh, Zina, I’ll miss you too. But you don’t have to stay here. You should come with us.”
Zina smiled. “I suppose I could, but I’m getting older. I only have a few years left to make what fortune I can as a courtesan.”
“You know that the Most Serene Republic of Venice is in its decline.”
“Yes, but like me, it has a few good years left.”
“Still, you will always have a home with us, should you need it.”
“And how will I find you?”
Sara smiled. “We’ll settle near a port city, probably Baltimore or Philadelphia. I will send you a letter once we are there.”
Zina frowned. “Just make certain nothing on it could identify you. As far as that goes, it is probably dangerous to use MacIan as a surname. It would make it easy for Llewellyn to track you down.”
“I’m sure you’re right, and Wells might not be safe either. I’m going to suggest we use my pseudonym.”
Nothing to Lose: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 16
