Votive

by Karen Brooks

  From where I was, I had a very good view of the dining room. I could just see the top half of Giaconda’s face and could hear her. She was seated at the head of the table, a space usually reserved for Signor Maleovelli. I wondered who they were hosting that his position was usurped. To my right, I could make out Signor Maleovelli’s shoulder and head. Next to him and closer to me sat Jacopo, turned in his seat so his leg could be extended; fortunately, he was facing away from where I was.

  To my left, opposite Signor Maleovelli and Jacopo, were two men. Behind them was the credenza upon which sat my candles. They had not yet been lit. The man nearest Giaconda was leaning forward and easy to see. He looked quite old, older than Signor Maleovelli. The light threw the pouches and lines on his face into relief and I could see his jowls wobbling like an unset jelly as he chuckled at something that was said.

  Next to him was a much younger man. His shoulders were level with Jacopo’s head. He had jet-black hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck, a long, straight nose, strong chin and tawny-coloured skin stained across the cheeks with a rose-pink flush. His jacket was of the latest fashion, puffed at the shoulder and drawn at the cuff. The shirt that peeked over the top and spilled at his wrists was snowy white. Even from my vantage point, I could see he was very handsome. He held his knife in the air, waving it around as he spoke and I could see a large bejewelled ring on his finger. I wondered who they were and how they knew the Maleovellis. Even more, I wondered what they could offer that the Maleovellis resorted to such dangerous tactics to obtain it.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  ‘The Doge is playing games, naturalmente!’ Giaconda’s voice rose above the others. ‘Keeping this new ambassador waiting is not polite!

  ‘Ah, but it is politic,’ said the old man, to gales of laughter.

  ‘Sì, bello,’ said Giaconda in a voice I didn’t recognise. Bello! That fat old man? Giaconda was clearly playing courtesan tonight. I lay down on the floor and tried to wriggle around the doorframe so I could hear better. The terrazzo was cold.

  ‘When he’s ready, the Doge will spare no expense to welcome this man … What’s his name again?’ The old man looked to the younger one.

  ‘Water Ford, I believe. A most peculiar name. He’s a lord,’ replied the younger one.

  Everyone laughed. ‘Only someone from the other side of the Limen would have the gall to carry a title that belongs to Our Saviour,’ Giaconda said softly. ‘Still, I think Waterford must be furious at being kept at arm’s length for so long and after all the supplies and aid he has given our city.’

  ‘I’ve heard,’ said the old man, ‘that there’s to be a special function to welcome him – at the palazzo, no less. All Councillors are to attend and extend the warm hand of Serenissian friendship.’

  ‘Well,’ said Signor Maleovelli, ‘if he helps Serenissima, then I am prepared to call him friend.’

  Again, there was laughter. Another servant began refilling the glasses. I noticed he went only to one side of the table.

  ‘I am tired of talking about this ambassador,’ Signor Maleovelli chided. ‘Let’s talk about this proposed venture of yours, Moronisini.’ Signor Maleovelli waved his fingers in the air and a servant I’d never seen before detached himself from the wall and lit my candles. Almost immediately, I could smell them. I wondered what precautions the Maleovellis had taken to ensure they weren’t affected. Just as I was musing on what they might do, I saw Signor Maleovelli and Jacopo produce handkerchiefs and press them to their noses, making pretence of dabbing their upper lips, wiping their faces. I imagined Giaconda would be doing something similar. I’d told them that crushed cafe beans would overwhelm the scent of the candles and work towards counteracting the power of the distillation. I was basing this assumption on various extractions I’d done with the small, brown nuggets, but was confident it would work. Tonight would be a test in more ways than one.

  The two strangers lifted their chins and I saw them inhale. Instantly, their eyes widened and colour flooded their cheeks. Their faces began to shine with eagerness.

  The old man’s eyebrows shot up. ‘How do you know about this?’

  Signor Maleovelli crushed his hanky into his fist and picked up his glass. ‘Ah, amico mio, you know how sailors talk. It’s a subject of great interest at the port. Which means it’s a topic of interest among the merchants. Which means, of course, it’s a subject of great interest to me.’

  ‘But the Sea With No Name is not on your trading route.’

  Signor Maleovelli threw back his head and roared. My heart leapt into my throat. I had never heard him make such a noise. ‘It’s not on anyone’s trading route!’

  Signor Moronisini and the young man joined his laughter.

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Signor Moronisini.

  ‘I know,’ said Signor Maleovelli, his laugh dying as quickly as it had erupted. ‘I know what you meant. You were being polite. I don’t actually have a trading route anymore. In fact, as we all know, my family have not enjoyed the benefits of one for some time. We have to rely on the spoils that others find, much to our disappointment. I hope to change this. So, I continue to look for the right venture into which I can invest the last of our funds. The Sea With No Name caught my interest. I asked about it and found your name on everyone’s lips. You have caused much excitement, amico mio. It is a risk, no? It’s probably too ambitious for most.’

  Signor Moronosini became suddenly serious and stared earnestly at Signor Maleovelli. His eyes were filled with anticipation. I knew that what I’d distilled into the candles had taken hold. ‘Why do you say that? Imagine a whole country with an entire population hungry for trade, for new experiences. It’s there for the taking. I just haven’t found someone I trust enough with whom I can enter into a colleganza. Finding the right partner, the right person to lead and manage such an expedition is so important. And, let’s face it, since the plague it’s becoming harder to find that individual. Many of the great casas are reeling from losses brought on by the Morto. Entire bloodlines were decimated, never mind business opportunities ruined. Why, we lost four ships ourselves. Whole cargoes were spoiled while waiting for quarantine to end.’ He made a noise of disgust. ‘I hope the fish enjoyed them.’

  Signor Maleovelli pushed his kerchief beneath his nose. ‘I heard of many difficulties. Cargoes decimated, ships deserted in the harbour as their crews fled. Then, of course, there were those tragically taken by the illness.’ He took a sip of vino. ‘As you say, the Morto Assiderato has deprived us of so much already. We cannot lose anymore – nobiles, popolani or soldi. Allora, on second thoughts, maybe we can afford to lose a few more nobiles, sì?’

  There was a titter of approval as everyone crossed themselves and muttered salutations for the dead. My fingers itched to join them – it was automatic. I had to concentrate. If I moved, I risked discovery.

  ‘No,’ agreed the old man, chuckling. ‘And in a venture such as this, there’s much to lose. But –’ he raised his glass ‘– there’s also much to gain.’

  ‘What have you heard?’ asked Signor Maleovelli. ‘Come on, Moronisini – you can trust me. Long ago, we shared a great deal in our lives, huh? Remember? You can share this with me now. I, who have shared everything with you.’ He reached over and stroked Giaconda’s arm. This man called Moronisini shifted uncomfortably and gave an uneasy laugh. ‘What is there to be lost from simply talking?’ Signor Maleovelli persisted.

  It was then I knew who the old man was – my lessons with Jacopo and Baroque’s mumblings had not gone to waste. Nobile Moronisini was from the Fourth Casa of Nobiles’ Rise, someone who had made a great deal of money from trade and who, according to Jacopo and Baroque, had the ear of the Doge. Certainly he was a member of the inner sanctum – the Council of Ten. The Maleovellis had important guests indeed. If I was caught spying on them … For just a moment, I wondered what Baroque would say about what I was doing. I had no doubt he’d approve.

  Signor Moronisini consi
dered his words. Then, letting out a long sigh, he signalled for more vino. He drank deeply then smiled, his teeth tinged carmine. ‘You’re right, Maleovelli. We used to share a great deal … more.’ I saw his eyes flicker over Giaconda in a way that made me shudder. He nestled into his chair. ‘Allora. The captain of my fleet tells me that the entire area surrounding the Sea With No Name is ripe for investment. He’s seen what comes out of those lands – the Contested Territories of Judea. He talks about the exquisite clothes, the oil, spices and fruit. There’s even rumours of jewels the size of plums. Now that the contested lands are not so …’ He fished for the right word.

  ‘Contested?’ suggested Giaconda.

  Signor Moronisini grinned. ‘Esatto. Now the Crusades are over, the opportunities are there for those with the money and the courage to try.’

  ‘I see,’ said Signor Maleovelli. ‘So, what would you intend? For ships to sail to the coast and a caravan cross the land until they get to the Sea With No Name?’

  ‘That’s what we’re considering. But it’s a huge risk. There are not only pirates, but once we disembark, brigands as well. They’ve flourished since the Holy Wars. Deserters, converts, the local barbarians – no-one is safe.’

  ‘They are if they’re not seen.’

  ‘What do you mean, Signor?’ It was the younger man. ‘How can traders not be seen? Does it not defeat the purpose of the enterprise to slink into a country and cower from meetings?’

  Signor Maleovelli leant back in his chair, raising his handkerchief to his face and wiping his nose. ‘Under ordinary circumstances where the area is known, it would. But you talk of sending a fleet? Am I right?’

  Signor Moronisini nodded.

  ‘That requires a great deal of manpower and resources.’

  ‘How else do you guarantee safety or a return on investment?’

  ‘There’s another way.’ Signor Maleovelli reached for his pipe. Signor Moronisini turned to the young man and raised his eyebrows. I could see Signor Maleovelli had piqued their interest. It was written all over their faces.

  ‘Go on,’ said Signor Moronisini.

  ‘Before I do, who were you thinking of broaching this venture with?’

  ‘I was going to ask Castellani to join me. His ships have sailed to Phalagonia, his men know the waters.’

  ‘So you would be taking your entire fleet and that of the Castellani.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What’s that? About sixty ships?’

  ‘Seventy-two,’ corrected Signor Moronisini.

  ‘Well,’ said Signor Maleovelli slowly, drawing on his pipe with such strength his cheeks collapsed, ‘that’s where I think you’re making a mistake.’

  No-one spoke. The candles spluttered. In the far corner, a servant sneezed.

  ‘How?’

  ‘I think you should take two ships.’

  Moronisini and the younger man burst into laughter.

  ‘Two!’ exclaimed Signor Moronisini. ‘What is the point of such an enterprise? How could anyone be taken seriously? No-one does that! It’s a waste of time.’ I could hear the doubt in his voice; his desire to believe Signor Maleovelli. I held my breath.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Signor Maleovelli. ‘But it’s not a waste of money. Senta. If you risk only one of your ships and one of your partner’s and treat this expedition as a trial run, as an opportunity to test the waters, so to speak, then not only do you lose very little should you fail, but you have laid the groundwork for a bigger expedition later.’

  Jacopo continued. ‘You would not only travel faster, you would return knowing the people, the products, with agreements already in place. With exclusive rights already sealed. You could generate huge interest here in Serenissima and abroad – you could be the one who sets up treaties, negotiates port fees. You could call for investors.’ He spoke quickly.

  ‘My nephew is right,’ said Signor Maleovelli. ‘The Doge would welcome new trading partners, fresh prospects. Trade with Firenze has all but dried up now the Medici Duke has seized power. Roma is more concerned with our spiritual health and their own wealth than shoring up ours. Serenissima’s usual allies are either looking to contain skirmishes around their own borders or still scared they’ll catch the Morto and be contaminated if they trade with us. We have to look elsewhere. The people in those parts wouldn’t know about the Morto Assiderato or that we’ve endured quarantine. Not only could we bring their world to ours, but the rest of Vista Mare to them.’

  Moronisini sat back in his chair and regarded Signor Maleovelli over his glass. ‘I admit, you surprise me, Maleovelli. There’s a great deal of sense in what you say.’

  ‘Ah, but I haven’t finished.’ Signor Maleovelli blew smoke into the room. It mingled with the scent of the candles in a pleasant way. ‘Not only do two ships present a much smaller target for pirates – why would they bother when there’s much bigger fish in the water? But two ships mean fewer men. Fewer men means they’re unlikely to pose a threat to the people of Judea. Imagine if you and Castellani weighed anchor at Jerusalem with your entire fleet? Picture what would happen when the men disembark? It wouldn’t matter that they weren’t armed; the authorities would think war had been declared all over again. No. Two ships, eighty men. A captain and a couple of merchants you can trust. An interpreter. That is all that’s needed.’

  ‘And produce.’

  ‘Naturalmente. If there should be losses, you can sustain those. Write them off. Any bigger and the entire enterprise is unaffordable from the outset.’

  Signor Moronisini rubbed his chin. ‘I like what I’m hearing, Maleovelli. I like it very much.’ Moronisini looked at the younger man, a quizzical expression on his face. The young man gave the faintest of nods.

  ‘You have a ship, I believe?’ said Signor Moronisini.

  ‘Sì. A ship that has not seen the oceans for a while but is sturdy and, with some repairs, would be able to make the voyage. More importantly, I have the perfect merchant to accompany you.’

  ‘Who might that be?’

  ‘Why, my nephew of course!’ Signor Maleovelli slapped Jacopo on the shoulder.

  ‘I would be honoured, Zio, Nobile Moronisini.’ Jacopo’s slug-like tongue wet his lips. I averted my eyes. ‘I can speak the language of Hellas and Phalagonian and I have a rudimentary knowledge of Judean.’

  ‘How is that?’

  ‘Ah, my nephew loves to bury his nose in books. His affliction, you know. What he lacks in physicality, he more than makes up for with his mind.’

  The younger man leant over and whispered something in Signor Moronisini’s ear. The old man nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Scusi, Signor Maleovelli, Signorina, Jacopo. My son was rude just now, but with good purpose. While I know this dinner was a chance to catch up on old times, reflect on what we once shared and what we may share again –’ Moronisini’s gaze lingered in Giaconda’s direction. I heard her fan snap open and knew that was the signal for being coy. ‘I’d not expected to dine so richly in other ways. I would like to talk to you further about your ideas. About your ship. About your nephew.’

  ‘Forgive me, Moronisini, if I appear dim.’ Signor Maleovelli leant over the table. ‘It must be the candles – their scent is exquisite, is it not?’ He waved towards the credenza.

  My mouth dropped open. I could not believe his daring.

  ‘They are delightful,’ agreed Signor Moronisini, twisting his bulk in the seat to look behind him. ‘The sweetest fragrance I have smelled in a long, long time, apart from one.’ Giaconda’s fan fluttered again, accompanied by soft laughter. I wanted to laugh as well.

  ‘Are you suggesting that together we take the plunge, sail west and see what riches we find? Are you proposing a colleganza?’

  ‘Sì, sì,’ said Moronisini, unable to take his eyes from Giaconda. ‘Vero. I am.’

  ‘Wait. Moronisini, I am flattered that you would seek to enter into one with my family and more than anything it’s what I would desire for us. But I would insist that t
his colleganza include not just this trip, but future ones to the Contested Territories. After all, if we’re brave enough to strike out together once, we should do so again. Would that not make the perfect partnership?’

  Moronisini leant back in his chair, his eyes half-closed. His son was the same. Their faces were flushed, their skin glowing.

  ‘Sì. The perfect partnership. Give me the paperwork. Let’s sign.’

  ‘Jacopo?’ Signor Maleovelli snapped his fingers. Shaking himself, Jacopo became very business-like. He pulled out his chair and, reaching into his jacket, pulled out a roll of papers and a quill. If the Moronisinis thought this peculiar, they did not say.

  At that point, I withdrew. I’d seen enough.

  I sat on the floor, my back against the dining room wall, listening to the laughter and the tone of the voices. I waited until they were toasting their new arrangement before rising to my feet and tiptoeing out of the salon.

  I passed from light into darkness and had almost reached the other end of the room when a shadow pulled away from the wall and grabbed me. A hand clamped over my mouth.

  I struggled as I was dragged out of the portego and into the corridor. Whoever it was, they were small but strong. Pushed into a chair under one of the sconces in the hallway, I looked at my assailant.

  It was Hafeza.

  Relief flooded me.

  ‘You scared me to bits!’ I hissed, placing my hand against my breast, trying to still the frantic beats that I felt sure could be heard. ‘Oh, thank goodness.’

  Hafeza frowned at me and waggled a finger in my face. She mimed going to fetch Giaconda while I waited. I caught her skirt as she turned.

  ‘Oh, please, Hafeza,’ I whispered. ‘Please, I beg of you! Don’t tell Giaconda! She will be so angry with me! I will get into so much trouble. Please! I wasn’t doing any harm, truly. I … I just wanted to see how Giaconda behaved. You know, if I’m to be a courtesan, I wanted to see how a real one acted around … men. That’s all. There was no harm done. Please, you have to believe me.’

  The whine in my voice made it high. I clutched at Hafeza’s dress, gathering more of the fabric between my fingers, pulling her closer.