Ascension

by Gregory Dowling

  A minute or so later I heard Garzoni’s voice addressing them. I could only catch occasional words: “historical moment … transform the city … glory … authority … authority [again] … no pity … instruments of fear…”

  So those were not just abstract concepts. He meant them quite literally – and was making it clear to these men that he meant them.

  There were no other voices – or, at least, there were no other voices from above me. I could now hear a general human clamour from the direction of the city. The lagoon was clearly filling up with crafts of all sorts. Musicians were trying out their instruments – instruments of pleasure, I thought wistfully. I could hear distant trumpets and pipes. Ragged choruses from the various guilds and schools. People just shouting. Everywhere a great desire to enjoy the day.

  Everywhere except on this platform.

  Garzoni was clearly getting carried away now. It was probably a long time since he had been able to make a full-length speech to a whole troop of men. He was making the most of it. I could hear the occasional shuffle of feet. These were men whose military discipline was perhaps a little rusty.

  After a crescendo of steadily rising sentences, his voice came to a sudden climactic pitch. I heard the words “death or glory” and guessed that this must be the final choice he was offering them. There followed a loud but ragged cheer. They seemed to like their chances. After this his short, light footsteps came down the eastern staircase first, followed by Luca’s quick precise pacing. Then there was the general tramping of the men as they re-descended both staircases.

  At this point the confused rumbling of voices, footsteps, splashing and scraping suggested that the men were re-embarking. I imagined there was a prominent place left on the boat for Nobleman Garzoni and his eager follower Luca Sartori.

  A minute later the two men came back into the room, together with Gaetano and Giorgio.

  “Prepare the boat,” said Garzoni to Gaetano and Giorgio.

  “Are you going to listen to me?” I said.

  “Yes. But the preparations will go ahead.”

  “Would you please untie me?”

  “That is not necessary. Your mouth is not fettered, is it?”

  I had not really hoped I would be released but I had thought it worth trying. “I would like to stand up, at least,” I said. “And a little freedom to move my legs.”

  “I’m sure your chain will not impede you.”

  I slowly got to my feet. The room swayed as I did so and everything became blurry, with the exception of the oil lamp on the table, which flared with a fierce intensity. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall.

  “Well?” said Garzoni.

  “One moment,” I said hoarsely. Then I gathered my thoughts, my willpower and whatever residue of courage I still had. “Excellency, I can see your intention. You wish to do what Doge Falier failed to do.”

  “That is so,” he said calmly.

  “You are going to destroy the city’s entire ruling class in one mighty conflagration, just as Doge Falier intended to do with the sword.”

  As I was speaking Gaetano and Giorgio were clambering up on to the submergible.

  “And to do this you have ordered the creation of an entirely new kind of craft – new to Venice, that is. You first heard of it in England, during your stay there many years ago.”

  “You are well informed.”

  “People have said you brought in few innovations at the Arsenale in terms of ship-building design.”

  He gave a contemptuous laugh. “All they wanted were better boats for commerce. Or imitations of English and Spanish galleons. What use to us are ships designed for the Atlantic Ocean?”

  “You proposed something that was truly revolutionary, that could truly create fear, and it was dismissed as a fantasy.” I was working by intuition now, but I felt fairly confident I was on the right lines. The fact that the room was still swaying around me was actually helpful; in these unreal circumstances bold speculation seemed the reasonable course of action. “And so you decided that this craft should remain your secret.”

  “Young man, I’m beginning to suspect you have inside information.”

  “Call it what you will,” I said. “Inside information. Insight. Intuition. I know what I know but I do not always know how I know it.”

  “Continue,” he said.

  I glanced at Luca. He was gazing quite impassively at me, but I thought I spotted a tremor at the corner of his lips. Gaetano and Giorgio continued their preparation of the vessel quite unperturbed. Gaetano had climbed into it and Giorgio was leaning over and handing him a lantern.

  I went on: “And for this purpose you needed an inner circle of people you could trust entirely – people who would never reveal the secret. People who would take the oath to Santa Giustina.”

  “That is correct. No venture can ever succeed without the undying loyalty of an inner core of believers.”

  “Given your high rank, your social position, you required at least one entirely trustworthy subordinate, who could act as your delegate in all administrative matters, who knew the employees of the Arsenale and who could choose the most trustworthy of them as your followers. A man who had been with you through your career at the Arsenale, of great organisational skills, whom you trusted implicitly.” I did not look at Luca as I said all this but Garzoni did and I followed his eyes. Luca was just gazing at me, his eyes slightly narrowed in his round bland face.

  I went on: “He it was who chose the carpenters who could make the submergible boat. As the man in charge of all ceremonial matters at the Arsenale, he could set up this floating platform and use this understage area as a secret workshop.”

  “So far all you say has been correct,” said Garzoni. “When are you going to reveal this flaw?”

  “I have already done so,” I said.

  “Explain yourself.”

  I swallowed. I was now coming to the dangerous part. “Luca Sartori is the flaw in your scheme.”

  Luca took a step towards me. Garzoni barked: “Stay there.” Then he turned to me. “Explain what you mean.”

  “I will do so, but I require that you listen to me to the end. Do not allow Luca to cut me off.”

  “Luca will do nothing without my permission,” he said grimly.

  “Excellency,” said Luca, clearly struggling to keep his voice calm, “this man is a dangerous liar, who will say anything to –”

  “Excellency,” said I, “so far I have spoken nothing but the truth. I only require that you listen to me for another minute. Then you can take your own decision.”

  “Go on.” His voice was quiet but firm.

  I noticed that Gaetano and Giorgio had stopped work too. Giorgio was standing by the craft and Gaetano had hoisted himself up and was sitting on the hatch, with his legs dangling down into it.

  “First of all,” I said, “let me just make sure that I’ve understood how today’s enterprise will work. The submergible boat will be launched through a hatch in the platform here. It will sink because the bladders underneath the seat and along the sides of the craft are now filled with water.”

  There was a stir among those listening. For the first time they took in the fact that I had inspected the interior of the craft.

  “At the opportune moment Gaetano and Giorgio are going to row the boat in the direction of the Bucintoro. They will have to do this blindly, simply relying on a mathematical calculation of the number of strokes required to reach it.”

  The silence that greeted this suggested that I had guessed correctly.

  “When they reach the Bucintoro they are presumably going to attach the submergible to it in some fashion.” I was imagining the purpose of those claw-like protuberances at the front of the boat.

  “There are two extendable clamps that will seize hold of the keel, operated from inside the craft,” said Garzoni. He had clearly studied the technical details of all this carefully. “It’s possible that those on board the Bucintoro will notice someth
ing, but they won’t have time to do anything about it.”

  “Gaetano and Giorgio will then ignite the fuse to the barrels of gunpowder,” I said. “Now I am presuming that, loyal servants though they may be, they are not intending to immolate themselves for the cause.”

  “There is a hatch in the floor of the craft by which they can leave it.”

  “Won’t that simply flood the boat? And so put out the fuse?”

  “There is a sealed chamber beneath the floor of the boat. They enter that, close the hatch above them and then open the exterior one. We have tried it and it works. If the correct procedure is followed the water does not enter the inner chamber.”

  “I see,” I said. “So at that point the Bucintoro will explode, killing the Doge and all the most important luminaries of the Venetian state.”

  “It will be a glorious moment,” said Garzoni, his eyes gleaming with anticipatory joy.

  “And you, Excellency, will be near by in a boat rowed by your loyal arsenalotti, and amid the ensuing panic you will proclaim yourself the new ruler of the city.”

  Garzoni picked up a large pistol from the table. “This will be my immediate symbol of rule,” he said. “And I will use it fearlessly should there be any opposition. As will my followers, all of whom are also armed. But the people will already be in a suitable state of fear and so I anticipate little resistance. They will, in fact, no doubt welcome a strong ruler.”

  “Everything seems perfectly planned,” I said.

  “It is. And so the flaw you indicated…”

  “Ah yes. Luca Sartori has been a most loyal servant in every way,” I said.

  “He has.”

  “His virtues have always been those of the diligent clerk – but a clerk with a gift for spectacle and an understanding of how to make a good impression.”

  “What are you insinuating?” said Garzoni. Luca himself merely breathed hard and heavily.

  “Excellency,” I said, “I have been inside your palace. I have even been in your kitchen. The kitchen presents a gleaming outward appearance. But if you open the cupboards you will find rotting food, filthy implements and maggots.”

  “What does that matter?” Luca said, unable to restrain himself.

  “Silence,” said Garzoni. And then to me: “What do you mean?”

  “Luca Sartori is a man of spectacle,” I said. “He also knew how to impress foreign visitors to the Arsenale: employees marching in step, polished boots and belts … but no new ships, no innovations. With the exception of the secret weapon for the inner circle.”

  “Spectacle has its role too,” said Garzoni. “The people need outward signs of power.”

  “But here there are only the outward signs. There is no power. I have been inside that machine,” I said, waving towards the sinister seal-shaped vessel. “Again, it looks very impressive from the outside. Menacing even. But…” I paused.

  “But what?” said Garzoni. “What you are saying makes no sense. That machine is not supposed to be seen. That is the paradox of its power.” He clearly liked this alliterative phrase and I got the impression he was even contemplating repeating it. I cut him short.

  “Oh, but it is, Excellency. It is supposed to be seen.” I paused again. “By you.”

  “The man is raving,” said Luca furiously. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Silence!” Garzoni’s tone was peremptory.

  “Excellency, you have put almost unlimited power into the hands of this man. At the Arsenale he was just another functionary from the citizen class. Diligent, respectful, respectable. You turned him into a man who could decide the fate of others. He it was who decided who belonged to your inner circle and who must remain outside. And when you left the Arsenale he came with you and took full charge of your palace. Palazzo Garzoni. A splendid building on the Grand Canal of Venice. Which belonged to the Garzoni family, who fought in the battle of Lepanto. Who captured Constantinople.”

  “I know what my palace is and what my family is,” said Garzoni quietly and deliberately.

  “Well, to all intents and purposes it now belongs to a man of the citizen class who comes from eastern Castello.”

  “Belongs to him?” said Garzoni, in an offended and incredulous tone.

  “How dare you –” began Luca.

  “Silence,” said Garzoni. “I will handle this. What do you mean?” he said to me.

  “I’m sure that if you study the deeds and legal documents you will find that it will pass to him on your demise. But even if that were not the case, he has been treating your property as if it were his for a long time now. Selling the family paintings.”

  “That was on my authority,” said Garzoni. “Our enterprise needs funding and frivolous paintings of pagan deities are of no concern to me.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, “but it would be interesting to see just where all the money has gone. Undoubtedly some of it has gone to pay those actors outside, but certainly not all.”

  “Actors? What do you mean?”

  “Oh, they’re arsenalotti, of course. And probably they feel a certain loyalty to you. But they’re Venetians. And Venetians are not by nature subversive. Luca Sartori is not a subversive man. His instinct is always to obey. He has, indeed, always obeyed you. Just think of the history of this city. Apart from Marin Falier, the last time the Venetians tried to overthrow their government was in 1310, under Bajamonte Tiepolo. And on that occasion the handful of insurgents were put to flight by an old woman with a stone mortar. The Venetians have no rebellious urge. They may grumble about taxes and tell cosily frightening stories about the Inquisitors and the Ten, but they don’t want to overthrow them.”

  “I am going to change all that,” said Garzoni in a grim menacing tone.

  “And these men you have chosen are all happy to tell you that they agree. They go along with you. Who are they to disagree with a Venetian nobleman? And one who used to be their commander? But they don’t mean it. And you only need to look carefully at that craft they have built for you to realise it.” Again I gestured at the submergible.

  “What about it?”

  “It won’t work,” I said. “It is built to impress you but not to sail underwater. For months, years perhaps, you have talked about this heroic enterprise, and Luca Sartori realised there was no way to discourage you from it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And so he had to convince you that he was with you, heart and soul. He got the best of the loyal followers at the Arsenale to make this vessel for you to admire. They convinced you that it would work underwater, in some carefully controlled experiment, presumably at night.” I looked at him as I said this and his lack of reaction persuaded me I had guessed correctly. “And then the plans were made for today. All those men in the large boat outside are here to cheer you, to testify to their loyalty … But when the Bucintoro fails to explode they will commiserate with you and then happily go off home, back to their wives and families. After all, they’re arsenalotti, employed by the Venetian state, with regular wages. And the men rowing the Bucintoro are their own colleagues, fellow arsenalotti –”

  “Those men are the servile followers of the new commanders at the Arsenale: wretches who showed no loyalty to me.”

  “Despicable people, no doubt. But your loyal followers none the less work alongside these wretches every day. Even if they have their disagreements, they are likely to have qualms about seeing them all murdered in an instant. Think of it, your Excellency.”

  When I stopped for a moment he was uncharacteristically silent. It was quite probable that the thought of such qualms on the part of his followers had never crossed his mind. Luca said, “Excellency…” Garzoni merely put up his hand and Luca fell silent too.

  I went on: “As I say, I’ve seen the interior of that contraption. The wood is rough, the oar-holes are jagged and I’m sure will not remain waterproof for long, and it will be impossible to control the direction they row in. I am sure too, that those metal claws are impossib
le to operate from inside the boat. But in any case I doubt they will get as far as the Bucintoro. I think your two loyal servants will simply suffocate.” I paused. “For Gaetano and Giorgio are entirely loyal, I’m sure of that.”

  There came a grunt from the two men. I was not sure how much they had followed of all I had said but it was clear they were gratified, or at least relieved, to hear they were not included among the traitors.

  I wondered whether I should add that I knew that they had loyally carried out the murders required by his campaign of preparatory terror, but decided there was no reason to raise that matter. That would seriously compromise my chances of survival.

  I went on: “I suspect that the craft will not even move successfully away from the platform. Gaetano and Giorgio will simply suffocate conveniently close to home. That will make it all the easier for all traces of this episode to be concealed afterwards.”

  Garzoni spoke at last. His voice was somehow both distant and bitter. “What proof can you offer for all of this?”

  Now came the biggest gamble of all. I had to pray that I was right in this last guess of mine. If I was not, it would put an end to the whole thing – for all of us.

  “I can offer you some immediate evidence,” I said. I stretched my hand out and grabbed the oil lamp that stood on the table. I had calculated correctly and I could just reach it. At once, I hurled it straight at the nearer of the two barrels, which were both still standing where Gaetano and Giorgio had set them down.

  Garzoni gave a shrill cry of alarm and a strange whimpering noise came from Gaetano and Giorgio.

  The lamp shattered, spraying its oil, and instantly the flame enveloped the top of the barrel. I looked at Luca and saw he had not moved. I had guessed correctly.