Votive

by Karen Brooks

  It was strange watching the Doge, waiting for my candles to take effect. The first time I saw him, he appeared to me as I imagined a nonno to look – old, frail and kind. Closer, he did not look kind so much as sad and beaten. And so ancient. I exhaled quietly and noted that his eyes had taken a strange, faraway look. His face appeared to collapse in on itself.

  The candles were working.

  His eyelids grew heavy and the colour in them started to leach away. He slowly slipped down the bed, the cap I needed as my proof bending beneath his weight, falling behind his head, sliding backwards over his ears. I saw his chest, rising and falling, the rhythms slowing with each breath. His eyes shut and he sank towards oblivion.

  I waited.

  I was about to step out of the closet when I heard a loud noise in the corridor. Shouts and cries. I’d been discovered. Darting out of the closet, I raced to the bed and reached behind the Doge, and tried to wrench his cap off. It took two pulls before it came free. I stared at it in both disbelief and relief, spinning around to flee, when a hand flew out and gripped my wrist. I repressed the scream that rose in my throat and looked down in dismay.

  Staring at me, with eyes that had once been grey, was Doge Dandolo. They widened as he took in my face. My mask dangled around my neck and the belladonna had long worn off.

  ‘Estrattore!’ he rasped. ‘Estrattore! Help!’ he began to cry.

  ‘No,’ I said, pressing my fingers against his wizened, dry mouth, the corno crunching under his chin. ‘Please, you don’t understand.’

  ‘Help!’ he tried to call. But his voice was so faint, I doubted he’d be heard. I didn’t wait to find out.

  I wriggled out of his grasp and, dropping the corno, ran to the closet. I shut the door and quickly activated the lever. To my relief, the wood swung aside and cold air from a long dark passage blasted me. I stepped in, fumbling for the candle in the sconce that Baroque had warned me to expect. Using the tinderbox that sat in a groove by the opening, I lit it quickly with shaking hands and shut the door, using the mechanism on the inside. As it slid closed, I noted that the noises I’d heard had not grown louder, that the Doge’s rooms had not been disturbed. Why had there been shouting? Perhaps it was just Carnivale gaiety, or had Giaconda organised a greater distraction than her own charms?

  I ran as carefully as I could down the passage, holding onto the walls when I reached the steps, keeping the candle above my head so the light cast a wide halo. It was freezing and, as I fled past alcoves and doorways, I occasionally heard the mutter of voices, groans and little squeals. Rats scurried past my feet; a couple ran over them. On I moved, as swiftly as I could. Down staircase after staircase, passageway after passageway, always moving west as Baroque had told me, praying I wouldn’t encounter anyone else.

  After ten minutes, I came to a section I knew – I had used it many times when leaving Prince Cosimo. I slowed down. I was nearly there. I had to catch my breath. I descended the last two flights of stairs and rounded a corner. There was the outer door at the end of the passage. Relief flooded me. I was sweating. I pulled my mask off completely and tucked it into my purse. It no longer mattered who saw me. It was over.

  Pulling back the latch, I slowly opened the external door and peered into the dark. It was still raining. I was about to step outside when a force on the other side slammed into me and sent me reeling back. I slipped over, throwing an arm out to keep my balance and striking the wall hard. I gasped in pain. Somehow, with my other hand, I managed to keep the candle aloft. I held it before me.

  ‘At last we meet then, Estrattore.’ Out of the night and into my circle of light stepped a man. Cold steel pressed against my throat.

  ‘Get up slowly. Keep your hands by your side. One word, one movement and I will kill you,’ he hissed. He reeked of vino and his words were slightly slurred. I tried to think fast.

  He snatched the candle out of my hand and held it above his head, studying me, careful to avoid my eyes. As he took in my appearance, I staggered to my feet and examined him. There was something about the blue eyes, the chin, the way the cheekbones flared towards the temples, how his hair came to a widow’s peak above his eyebrows that registered with me. I swallowed heavily. The man began to laugh. A freezing draught blew around my legs, lifting my dress, forcing his cape to flap against me.

  ‘You know, for so long my thoughts were preoccupied with Katina.’ I stiffened. ‘I wanted to hurt her, damage her, erase her from his memory, rid his casa of her shame. But then I realised, all I had to do to set him free, to make him happy and get Katina at the same time was destroy you.’ He leant towards me. I thought he was going to fall. The tip of the sword pressed into my flesh. I felt a burn then a rush of warmth as I was cut. I winced and cried out.

  ‘Dante made it so easy –’

  Dante? What was he talking about? How did he know Dante?

  ‘All I did was follow him and there you were – right before my eyes, right before everyone’s eyes, but we were so dazzled by the gold, by the beautiful Signorina Dorata, that no-one saw what was in front of their eyes. Only Dante, the lovesick fool.’

  My heart began to race. What was this man talking about? Who was he? I could see now he was a Bond Rider. He mentioned Katina. But Dante? Dante was dead … How could Dante know that I was Signorina Dorata?

  ‘Who are you?’

  The sword came up under my chin, forcing my head back. The man laughed and again, his blade sliced my flesh. By now I was pressed hard against the wall. His body rested against mine. I could feel its strength. I swallowed nervously. If only I could touch him, get him to look at me, but my hands were caught behind my back. His strange eyes would not focus, couldn’t. And, when they did, he was seeing something or someone else. He was like a man possessed.

  ‘I figured out what to do,’ he continued, oblivious to the pain he was inflicting or else celebrating it. I stayed still, but began to ease my hands out from behind my back, scraping them as I did. I saw how you use this gate, this entrance. I knew if I waited you’d appear. You’re the star of Carnivale; of course the Doge would have you at his ball. I knew and I was right. Stefano thinks I’m stupid – they all do, you know. But I’m not. I’ve outsmarted her – I’ve outwitted Katina this time. She is going to be very angry when she finds out.’

  ‘What makes you so sure of that?’ I asked through gritted teeth.

  His eyes widened and he gave me a mocking laugh. ‘Because it will ruin her Obbligare Doppio.’ He lowered his weapon slightly.

  Her what? A double bind? What was that? I knew I had to pretend to know what he was talking about.

  ‘Really? Well, good. I hate her. So do what you have to do.’

  This time he was surprised. He pushed himself away from me and the sword shifted. It was now poised over my breast. I tried to ignore it, but the tip of the blade sank into the fabric of my dress. At least my hands were free. I kept them motionless by my sides.

  ‘Why do you hate her?’

  ‘She killed my love.’

  He frowned and then his face cleared. ‘You mean Dante? He’s not dead.’

  I thought my heart had stopped. ‘What?’ A great roar sounded in my ears. I saw this man’s mouth move, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. The door blew shut behind him. I barely noticed. Dante’s not dead? He’s alive? Where is he? Oh my love, my dearest. My heart filled. I wanted to cry out, to find him, now, this minute.

  The smell of vino brought me back to the present. To where I was, to who I was. To the danger I was in. Who was this madman? No, my heart screamed. No!

  ‘I killed him. At least I thought I had.’

  I stared at this staggering drunk man. I’d had enough of him and his senseless babbling, his threats, his stench. Waiting until he was lost in some sort of reverie, I gave him a huge shove in the chest. He stumbled back and his head hit the wall. I stepped forward and wrenched the door open. Rain pelted me in the face, but I could see the small pier, the striped paline and, bobbing alongsid
e it, a gondola. I began to run. Only, as I drew closer, I saw with horror it wasn’t the Maleovellis’ craft. I slowed down as two shadows emerged from the felze, leaping onto the dock. With a wave of relief, I saw the first was Baroque. He reached behind him and held out a hand, hauling the other person onto the dock. A tall man with big shoulders and glossy dark hair.

  ‘Tallow!’ cried a voice. My heart swelled. I stopped in my tracks. My body began to shake as feelings I had denied myself for months flooded into every fibre of my being, filling me with hope and longing. Where they came from, I didn’t know. But they entered with such force, I was almost thrown off my feet. My knees buckled, my lips began to say his name over and over, Dante, Dante. Rain struck my face, fell into my mouth, mingling with the tears that I knew fell freely. I dashed them out of my eyes, fearful that if I didn’t keep this person, this man, in my sights, he’d disappear. My Dante. I compelled my legs to work as he too began to run towards me, arms outstretched. But before I could call out, something slammed into my back.

  I stumbled forward and stopped again. I felt hot, peculiar.

  I tried to move, but my body refused to cooperate. It didn’t matter, because he came to me. After all this time, he came. Through the rain and darkness he found me. So tall, so strong, so beautiful. I saw his mouth open wide as he cried out a word I could not hear because of the thunder in my mind. The joy on his face, which echoed that in my soul, dissolved into something else. Everything slowed down. I saw Baroque draw a sword and begin to lumber down the dock. He ran past me shouting, but I couldn’t hear him either, I saw his mouth moving, snarling. I saw Dante’s eyes drop to my breasts. I saw a look of panic twist his beloved face. I followed the direction of his gaze.

  Sticking out of my chest was a sword. It was covered in blood. My blood.

  I started to fall forwards. He ran to catch me but it was too late.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ I whispered before I toppled onto the dock and knew no more.

  IGNORING THE HORSE THAT CANTERED into the clearing, Dante remained hunched over Tallow’s unconscious form. Even the sounds of the rider dismounting and the rough hand gripping his shoulder didn’t break his focus. ‘I can’t lose her again, Baroque. I won’t,’ he said as Baroque released his grip. The back of Dante’s hand brushed her cheek gently.

  Dante had placed her on his cape. Without her mask, and with her eyes closed and hair all dishevelled, she could have been asleep. Only the blood that stained the front of her dress told a different story. Her skin has taken a bluish cast, ghastly, in the moonlight.

  ‘We won’t lose her, Dante. Stay strong, amico mio. Have faith,’ Baroque said and squatted beside him. ‘There was more than a mortal hand behind that sword, the intention. But if there is one thing I’ve learnt about Tallow, it’s that she’s stronger than she looks, you know.’

  ‘I did what you said.’ Dante faced him, desperation making his eyes glimmer. ‘I gave her that potion. Her breathing is slowing; but her heart … I can barely feel it.’ Dante stumbled over the words. He fought back tears.

  ‘Then you have done all you can for now.’ Baroque rose and left Dante alone for a moment. Walking back to where he’d left his horse, he quickly tied it to a tree next to Argento and began to loosen the large roll strapped behind the saddle. ‘Dante,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘I need your help.’

  First pushing Tallow’s hair from her face, Dante reluctantly went to aid Baroque. Together they carried the roll and dropped it down next to Tallow.

  ‘What’s this?’ Dante asked.

  Baroque didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly unrolled what was an ornate rug until its centre was exposed. A pale, dishevelled old man lay in the middle.

  Dante leapt back in astonishment. ‘The Doge!’ he yelped. ‘That’s what you went back for, Baroque? Why? Is he dead?’ Dante approached cautiously and bent down, peering at his ruler curiously.

  Baroque knelt on the carpet and gently pulled the old man’s robes around him – the robes he’d scooped from the floor and clumsily thrown over the Doge’s nightshirt before wrapping him in the rug and carrying him down the passage. He grimaced as he saw the bruises that marked the Doge’s face and hands, the dried blood from all the scrapes that tore his papery flesh and from which the thin rug had not protected him. It was these that gave him hope. Dead men did not bleed.

  ‘No, he’s no dead – not yet,’ said Baroque.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Before he could answer, the horses began to snort and pull at their tethers. The crash of undergrowth and the sound of harnesses jangling brought Dante and Baroque to their feet. Both drew their swords, Dante standing protectively over Tallow.

  From the direction of the Limen cantered two riders. Dante gave a crow of joy and sheathed his sword.

  They both waited beside Tallow and the Doge as first Katina and then Constantina rode into the clearing. Katina threw the reins aside and leapt off her horse. She ran to Dante and clasped him to her bosom.

  Surprised, Dante returned the hug, glad to see how well Katina looked, how alert and strong.

  ‘You’ve grown,’ she said, holding him at arm’s length then reaching up and tousling his hair. ‘Where is she?’

  Before Dante could warn her, Katina released him and looked down at his feet, her face altering. ‘No, No! What’s happened?’ She fell to the ground. ‘Tallow?’ She scrabbled helplessly at Tallow’s bloodied clothing. ‘Who did this to her?’ She glared at Dante. ‘You were meant to protect her.’ Katina stared, her eyes accusing. ‘No, no, this is not the way it’s meant to be.’

  ‘Settle down, Katina,’ said Baroque. ‘She’s alive, for all that she appears not to be. We did what we could. Don’t blame Dante. No-one could have prevented this.’

  ‘We think it was a Bond Rider,’ said Dante, uncomfortable under Katina’s flinty gaze. ‘I didn’t recognise him in the dark. There was something peculiar about him. He fled back into the palazzo.’ He looked to Baroque to continue the story.

  ‘We didn’t follow him. We didn’t have time. Dante brought Tallow here as fast as he could. We knew it was important to alert you, get her into the Limen. She needs help.’

  Katina gave a curt nod. ‘You’re right. Of course, you’re right.’ She dashed a hand across her cheek, wiping away her tears. ‘Constantina, come quickly.’

  The older woman was slower to get off her horse, but fast once on her feet. She nodded to Dante and studied Baroque briefly before kneeling beside Katina. Baroque’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman.

  Pulling Tallow’s dress aside, Constantina tried to see the wound.

  ‘The light is terrible,’ she said. ‘Can you give me a fire, a torch, something?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. Not only is everything wet from the rain, but if we’re followed, it will make us easy to find,’ said Baroque. ‘I did my best to cover our tracks as it was.’

  Constantina grunted.

  ‘You’re an Estrattore, aren’t you?’ he asked.

  Constantina glanced at him over her shoulder. ‘Vero,’ she said. ‘Now, give me some space, all of you. I need to examine Tallow.’

  Reluctantly they moved away, their eyes still upon Constantina and Tallow.

  ‘Allora. You think you’ve been followed?’ asked Katina quietly.

  Baroque nodded. ‘I’m sure of it. When I took him –’ he gestured to the Doge ‘– something was afoot in the palazzo. I heard the Cardinale’s name mentioned. Something about a message from Roma. It won’t take long for them to discover the Doge is missing.’

  ‘That’s the Doge?’ Katina’s eyes widened. ‘What on Vista Mare possessed you to bring him here?’ She shook her head in astonishment. ‘The Doge! What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Tallow, that’s what. She’s done something to him.’ Katina’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I brought him because they can’t implicate Tallow in his death if there’s no body, can they?’

  ‘She killed him?’

&nb
sp; ‘No, not exactly. I don’t know what she’s done. I took him to buy us time. To sort out this mess.’

  ‘Us?’ asked Constantina. She’d managed to open the front of Tallow’s dress, pulling it away from the wound.

  ‘Sì. Us. We’re all in this together now,’ said Baroque. ‘I trained Tallow. I was the one who led the Maleovellis to her. The one who brought her to the point where she was left with no choice but to do what they ordered – to kill the Doge.’

  Katina gasped. Baroque gave a rough nod in affirmation of her surprise. Then he lifted his chin and continued. ‘But blame for his death will fall on you,’ he said, indicating Constantina. ‘On the Estrattore. That cannot be allowed to happen. Not now. People are starting to believe again – and all because of Tallow.’

  Constantina paused. ‘Your friend knows much for a human, Katina. He’s right. He did well to bring the Doge. And I can tell you, the man is not dead or in any likelihood of dying. But it’s Tallow I’m worried about now.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Dante, dropping beside her. ‘She will be all right, won’t she? I mean, he didn’t pierce her heart or anything vital, did he?’

  ‘No. No, he didn’t, which puzzles me. Bond Riders are normally very accurate. By rights, she should be able to heal herself. An Estrattore with a fraction of her capabilities would be able to. But …’ Constantina hesitated,

  ‘But what?’ urged Dante, his voice catching.

  Katina came and stood beside him. ‘What is it, Constantina?’

  ‘It’s not the physical injury I am concerned about. There is more damage here than a sword thrust or blood loss. It’s as if …’

  ‘What? Tell me,’ insisted Dante.

  ‘It’s as if she’s distilling the pain, storing it inside herself,’ finished Constantina.

  ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure. All I can tell you is that I sense a terrible darkness in her – a great void that I have only felt once before in my entire life.’ She looked up at Katina, then her eyes slid to Baroque. ‘What did those people do to her?’ Her voice was wintry, her eyes weapons that glinted sharply.