'I didn't kill your friend,' she said, suddenly. 'The German, in Foligno. That was Facio. You want to know if my arms are bloody to the shoulders? I will tell you. I killed a man in Venice, when I was a girl, and all alone. He beat me and fucked me in an alley, and when he had had his way he fell asleep from all the drink in him, and I stove his head in with a brick.' I heard her swallow hard, as if her mouth had gone dry.
Will you hear my confession, Master I-was-never-a-priest? Here it is anyway: I have stood by while men were killed. I have brought a man to his death, once. In Smooth Field life was not accounted very high, and in Venice they will kill a man over the cut of his clothes. But Dardi was the second one I have slain, and he fucking deserved it,' she said through clenched teeth. Tuck! Fuck it! Ach ...' she sniffed, and I suddenly realised she was weeping. Reluctantly I raised my hand to comfort her, and she flinched. My anger flooded back.
'He deserved it, did he? Anna did not deserve it, but he did: you are as just as Solomon, aren't you? You kill your friend, and betray your master, as easy as ...' I shook my fist, as if to beat the words out of the air.
'The betrayal was not mine,' said Letice fiercely. 'Nicholas had thrown me aside.'
'He gave you to Dardi,' I said, all of a sudden remembering her hurried words in the chapel. I had not really listened then, for I had been awash with terror, confusion and relief, but now I began to recall that she had given me some explanation that had been enough for me then. 'But, really, what of it? You are a whore: you said so yourself'
Yes, I should not care, should I?' she was saying. 'Nor be surprised, for Nicholas bought me like a sword or a horse. Something to ride. But give me to Dardi? To Dardi! He knew it would mean my death. He had just made Dardi the warden of his island, and I was to sweeten the pot. Stampalia
- it is a hideous, dry place, and the castle is—'
'This is nonsense! You would have had your own little kingdom,' I interrupted.
'Not with Dardi. He would have killed me sooner or later - no doubt sooner. Torture was what he really liked. Nicholas, Facio even - they are not cruel, not in that way. They do not hurt for pleasure, except when that might bring gain. They want what they want, and they will do the necessary. They have enough in their heads to keep them occupied: Dardi's head was empty: he must needs keep it filled with a store of horrors inflicted upon others’
Despite the scorn I was trying to keep hold of, I shuddered, remembering all too well the smell of his breath that night by the Tiber. 'He looked too stupid for that’ I said.
'No, no. You men: so arrogant about your cruelty. You do not need to be clever to be cruel, you just do what your flesh tells you. Dardi - suffice to say he once fucked a girl to death, and she was a friend, and I had to clean her up. He wanted me to see’
'But did Querini know what he was about, when he .. ‘ 'Oh, he knew all right. He'd had enough of me. I think Facio was grown clever and bold enough that Nicholas could lean upon him - he didn't need me any more. And there's many a foreign whore in Venice, cleverer ones than me.'
'But ... but didn't he care about you? After all those years?'
'He put me clear out of his mind the moment he left me’ she said. Tm sure he doesn't remember me at all.'
We had fair weather and a fair wind out of the north, and so we quickly threaded our way down through the islands of Greece, past Scio and Scopello, between Icaria and Micono and down into the Duchy of the Archipelago, Venetian castles nailing Venetian rule on to barren hillsides and whitewashed villages cowering in their shadow. Late on the third day we raised Stampalia, and not wanting to arrive at night, the captain took the Seynt Victor into the lee of Amorgo. I passed a restless night, for, whatever the Dominicans intended to do should we find Querini at home, I — for all my eagerness to come here - had but one thought in my head. If Messer Nicholas were there, then to avenge my master, and Horst, I must try and take his life from him. This thought had been seeded on that last day in the Bucoleon Palace, and had grown slowly, in darkness, ever since. Out here in the pure light of the Greek seas, however, it had begun to uncurl and to darken, like a shoot pushing its way up from underground, and since the lady Letice and I had reached some strange, uneasy truce its full strength had been turned upon her erstwhile master. I had no idea how my need to avenge Captain de Montalhac could be squared with the extraordinary - nay, stupendous - opportunity offered by Andrew of Longjumeau's revelation. I had never before planned to hurt anyone and I did not wish to now, but there did not seem to be a choice if I were ever to return to the fellowship of the Cormaran. As the boat bobbed gently beneath a dazzling net of stars, I bitterly regretted that I had ever come eastward in the first place.
Letice, on the other hand, was seething with excitement. She had been acting her part with aplomb, so much so that she kept herself sharply to herself and had allowed the captain of the Seynt Victor to appoint himself her chaperon, which office he fulfilled in an absurdly grave manner, no doubt because he felt the eyes of the friars upon him. I had not passed more than the time of day with her since our disagreement, and I found myself urgently wishing that I could divine whatever it was she had going on in her head. I knew little more about her now than I had when I first beheld her in Rome. She fascinated and repelled me, and I did not trust her one hairs breadth. So I was startled to find her at my side as I leaned upon the rail, gazing out at the black silhouette of the island.
'Hello, Master Dog’ she murmured. I looked around, and saw her sharp yet sensual profile outlined against the faint star-sheen on the water.
'Good evening’ I said. Dear God, could I do no better than that? I wished she would leave me be, to my dark and bloody thoughts.
You're a well-mannered dog, aren't you?' she answered. 'I mean, for a blaspheming priest-killer and all.'
'Mistress Letice, you should not be here’I said vehemently. 'The captain, the brothers .. ‘
'Bugger the brothers’ she said. 'Or, mayhap, they are buggering each other as we speak. That is what you get up to, isn't it, you priests?'
'I told you, I was never a priest!' I burst out, then saw she was chuckling.
'Like I said before, you must have done something’ she said.
There was nothing for it but to tell her. I thought perhaps then she might leave me alone. So I hurried through my sad tale, from the night I had met Sir Hugh de Kervezey in the Crozier tavern to that bloody morning on the Koskino beach.
‘I have told you these things because I wish you to leave me be’ I told her sullenly, when I was done. We are not friends, make no mistake.'
Well, we are thrown together, friends or not. And thank you for your tale, though it was less interesting than the songs. Now listen: you know nothing of me, although you assume much. So be silent, and I will tell you of my life, and then you may judge me - but only then. I was born in Smooth Field perhaps two-and-twenty years ago’ she went on in a rush, as if afraid that I would prevent her.
'Mam was a troubadour - nay, she called herself such’ she added with a grave smile, seeing me cock my head sceptically.
'She could sing like a blackbird, trip a neat step and play enough upon the lute. And she had a lovely body - "bumps in all the right places", as she would say - such that gentlemen like to stare at until their wives break jars over their heads. She, for there was no father around to do it, and I never knew who he might have been, earned us pennies by singing at parties, fine and not so fine. When I was starting to grow hair upon my quim she began to bring me too, for folk like to give coins to a pretty little girl, and when I passed the oblation cup around they would fall over themselves to fill it for me’
'I saw Smooth Field - it is a grim place,' I said grudgingly.
You would say that, wouldn't you?' she shot back. 'If all you knew was Balecester, I am sure that all of London seemed a bit grim!
'Balecester? I am not from that poxy kennel,' I told her, laughing. 'I am a Devon boy - to me, Balecester might have been Babylon itself when I first cam
e there. God rest you, girl, but since then I have seen some of the world, and Smooth Field is grim by any comparison.'
Worldly-wise,' she said, shrugging. Well then, you are right: there are prettier and kindlier places to live. Yes, I grew up in a dung-heap, with people who would pay to watch two dogs fucking. And yes, I fingered purses, and watched my mam do things the quality don't. What of it? Do you want to hear my tale, or what?'
'Go to, go to,' I said, feigning unconcern, although in truth her company had become more welcome, for I had been alone save for my anger, and anger is a poor companion.
When I was in my sixteenth year - I suppose I was sixteen, but... well, the year that the king locked up the Earl of Kent...'
'So five years ago’ I put in. That would make you one-and-twenty.'
'All right then, Ptolemy’ she said. Well, well: younger than I thought. Anyway, in that year my mam took up with a merchant from the Aldgate. A rich man, very rich indeed. She was dancing and singing for his company one night, he took a shine to her, and next thing I knew we were living in his house. My God, it was lovely! I mean, we were up in the attic and all, but still ... And that went on for all of three months, the nice clothes, having enough to eat, not being bothered by smelly old men with grey whiskers and dead-bird breath. I used to prance up and down Cheapside like royalty, I can tell you, and did I go over to Smooth Field and play the queen? Too right I did. So, all very lovely, until the bloody old fool of a merchant decides he has to crown his virtuous life with a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He set about gathering a merry band of like-minded fellows, all as rich as himself, and servants, mules and muleteers - and of course such a party must needs have entertainment. My mam was bought for a fine purse of gold and the promise of saving her soul.
'She brought me along, of course, for I begged her, and I was useful, and the old codger had taken a shine to me as well. We set off in the spring, crossed the sea with everyone puking over the side even though it was flat as a millpond, and had a lovely time all the way through France: I even got my own donkey. Now it was easy living, for the old codger put us up in the best inns. Mam danced and drank at night and I kept to myself in the daytime, but there wasn't much pawing, for the whole crew of them had their minds on higher matters. So it was sweet, even crossing the mountains, which they'd all been dreading. Down into Italy we went, and very pretty it was. We were headed for Venice, there to take ship for Jaffa. It was before Frederick had returned, so there was peace all the way from Milan to the sea, and hot sun, ripe fruit ... and Mam getting closer and closer to the old codger, and hinting that I might be getting a new dad .. She paused, and shook her head, a tiny, wry smile hovering on her lips.
We came into Venice, and the very next day Mam wakes up with a fever. And the day after that, she didn't wake up at all. Just like that: a fever, a bloody flux, and she was dead in a shit-filled bed. Well, the purse of gold was gone, grabbed up by the old codger, who did not want to be my daddy any more. I tried dancing for the gentlemen, but they laughed at me. In their haste to save their souls they made sure to leave me behind when the ship sailed.
'There I was, in the clothes I stood up in and without a groat, wandering about in Venice, not being able to speak a word of their language. And if I thought I'd been pawed in London - Christ almighty! Venetian men are like lice: they get everywhere. I was ... you are looking at me with that expression men get, you know: how shocking! Tell me more!’
'Ballocks!’ I spluttered, all wounded dignity. She was right, though.
‘I was going to say that I was no maid of easy virtue, but I was no maid neither, if you catch my meaning. I was hungry, of course, but I knew how to steal, and it kept me going for nigh on a week, until I ran into a mob of bravoes who decided to rape me. I ran from them and kept running, into parts of the town I'd never been, until I stumbled into a square full of ... whores. Windows full of them, going up into the clouds it seemed to me, all shaking their tits and cawing at the men below like randy rooks. I was clever enough to work out that I would be safe from the bravoes in one of those houses, so I dashed in and begged the madam to hide me. She did. And before I knew it I was a Venetian whore. I could dance and sing, remember, so I paid my way; and the madam thought I was exotic - Smooth Field, exotic! - so she kept me by for the special customers ...'
'Ah. Like Nicholas Querini, perchance?' I ventured.
'Like Messer Nicholas. He took a fancy to me - a bit more than a fancy, in fact, for he bought me from the madam. Bought me, yes, for at some point I had become her property! She hissed the word, and bit her lip. 'Bought and sold, that's me. Nicholas has a wife and a pretty family, so he kept me in an old palace round the corner from Saint Mark's. I was happy, I'll admit. There was a roof terrace, with flowers and a little tree, and do you know? I had my own monkey! Men do like to buy their courtesans monkeys, you know, and pappagallos. A hazard of our trade, you might say: they bite and peck and eat squishy fruits, which makes them shit everywhere, but you know, it is exotic. Tra-la. Nicholas would come around to bed me, and we would talk, and then the talking came before the bedding, and afterwards; and I liked that. He taught me to read, you know: bought me my very own tutor, an old monk - hated my guts.' She threw back her head and barked a harsh laugh. 'He didn't think women should read, and tried to teach me scripture by rote, but I would threaten him with the monkey - he hated the monkey - and in the end I did learn. Funny, it was the parrot killed him in the end, for they carry fever, dirty creatures. Why I didn't get it I don't know, but I didn't.'
‘I like monkeys,' I said. 'They
'Don't start!' she told me.
'All right,' I assured her. 'So you learned your words. Then what?'
'Nicholas brought me things to read, and he noticed that I could pick them apart and find what they really meant, the gold in the dross, if you like. At first he did it for his own amusement - got him worked up, talking to a clever wench. Then he started bringing me other things, his things, papers to do with his affairs. I hadn't realised what a big man he was, but he is very, very ... he has power, lots of it. He's as rich as the Doge, oh, more so, and he is always, always plotting. I used to think his skull was full of ants, never resting, always bringing in more ideas, building more schemes. He wore me out, really. Wears everyone out eventually.'
'But he looks like such a typical merchant,' I protested. 'Big and pleased with himself. Lots of food and drink and pats on the back.'
'Oh, he's all of that,' snorted Letice. 'That's how he keeps folk off their guard while he's pinching their stuff.' She saw my surprised look. 'Not pinching like you mean, Petroc. He doesn't steal things and shove them in a bag. He does it with paper and words and numbers. That's the way to nick the really big stuff. Like empires. He would love to be Doge, of course,' she said, thoughtfully. 'I've always known that. He started to let me out of the house, you see, to spy on his rivals. No one knew who I was, or what I was, and I caught on to the language pretty quick, so I could go anywhere. No past, not in Venice. That's when I met Facio and Dardi.'
'I was wondering about that,' I said.
'Dardi was a knife-man, pure and simple,' she told me. 'Anyone Nicholas wanted out of the way, Dardi took care of it. He was busy all the time, and Nicholas paid well, so he got rich. But he didn't get clever, or less like an ape. Facio, however ... he's different. Very quick. He'd be a Nicholas if he'd had the right parents, but he's a fisherman's son, so he must needs claw and trample his way up. He's close to Nicholas now, close as can be. He thinks Nicholas will get him made a nobleman - perhaps he's right. He'd kill the pope for that. If it had been Facio in the chapel, we wouldn't be having this talk.'
We were silent for a while. The wind was picking up and it was getting colder. Letice leaned her shoulder against mine for a moment and then pulled away. I found myself wishing she would do it again.
‘We are not so different, you and I,' I said. We have had our lot thrust upon us. It was my fate to fall into the hands of Captain de Montalhac, whom I would
call a good man, although others would not. It was yours to be found by Nicholas Querini, who the world accounts a good and gentle man. But we have both been drawn into ... into ...'
Into a stinking bloody jakes,' she said. 'By your leave I'll wish you goodnight, polite Master Dog, and I'll see you in the morning.'
PART FIVE
Stampalia
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘I
he castle of the Querinis, despite all Letice had done to proclaim it a grim and doom-laden place, was a great block of brand-new, blindingly white ashlar sitting almost cheerfully above its whitewashed village, and overlooking two coves of clear, deep water. Querini himself was gone, we saw at once: there was no ship in the harbour, and no flag flew from the battlements.
As soon as we had come within sight of Stampalia, the two Dominicans had begun pacing about the deck, whispering agitatedly to each other and getting in the way of the sailors.
It had been decided that only Letice and I should go ashore, so that suspicions should not be aroused. Master Lambertus found me a sword, an ugly thing that looked as if it had last been used to slaughter hogs; but it had a scabbard and a belt, and I was glad to gird myself with it, although there seemed to be no threat of danger. I put on my cloak, and Letice put on hers, and together we climbed down into the jolly-boat. As the sailors rowed us across the cove to where a line of fishing dinghies were pulled up on the narrow white beach, I saw the villagers milling about under the trees. They did not seem alarmed by our arrival, and I took that to be a good thing. When we had jumped ashore, a few fishermen wandered over to see what we were about, and I greeted them in their own tongue and told them we had business at the castle. The Lordos was away, they told us. We had just missed him - he had left but two days ago. When would he be back? They shrugged as one and, evidently relieved that we were not Venetians nor officials of any outside power, went back to mending their nets.
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