The Madman of Venice

by Sophie Masson

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  she’ll make quite sure of that. You’re in serious danger, Ned.’

  ‘Ned could hide with us, at our place; she doesn’t know where it—’ began Henri, but Dr Leone shook his head.

  ‘She’ll find out. She will find him there. I think you are safe enough, Henri—you only know the house where Mateo was taken, and I daresay that was only a place of convenience—but Ned has actually seen one of the attackers and can describe him.’

  ‘But I only managed to say he was tall and broad, with the bearing of a man-at-arms!’

  ‘That’s enough. Likely enough it was one of her guards, you see. She couldn’t let you continue.’

  Ned tried once more. ‘But the Count—he could help us. ... I think he wants to.’

  ‘What good does that do? The man is a shivering jelly. Most likely now he’ll be locked up and constantly watched.’

  Ned was horrified. ‘But, sir, she can’t do that! He’s the Count!’

  ‘But he’s not in charge. You saw that clearly, Ned. No. You cannot stay here. Now, I own a small house deep in the countryside in terra firma, the mainland. I am certain the Countess knows nothing of it. In fact, I am sure few do—I use it as a bolt-hole when I’m tired of Venice. I have two or three good staff there, who will look after

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  you. You will be safe there. You must go there today. Right now, without wasting a moment.’

  ‘But, Dr Leone—the others . . . they’ll wonder what I—’

  ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll tell Mistress Quickly.’ He smiled. ‘And Miss Celia, of course. In fact, I’ll make arrangements for them to go there too, a little later. No,’ he said when Ned opened his mouth, ‘don’t argue. Just do as you’re told.’

  ‘But what are you going to do, sir?’ cried Ned.

  ‘I am going to try and get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry. I will be careful. And I can defend myself—I’m not unhandy with a sword. What’s more, I have powerful friends—and the Countess knows that. That is why I mentioned the Duke.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I’m not afraid of that hell-harpy. And she knows it. People like her work on the fear of others. And she knows I’m not afraid.’ He paused. ‘But oddly enough, she must be afraid—of her husband going to pieces, and also of Sarah. That’s why she’s seeking her and why she was prepared to kidnap Mateo. I don’t think we’re dealing with a simple case of witchcraft or even—sorry, Ned— an unsuitable love affair. Something is very rotten indeed in the Montemoro household—and I intend to find out just what.’

  ‘But what do you think it could be, sir, if it’s not that the Count’s in love with her?’ asked Ned.

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  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dr Leone. ‘But my instinct tells me it must be something very serious—perhaps something Sarah witnessed when she was alone in the room with the Count. Or something he told her, perhaps.’

  ‘I can help you in this, sir,’ said Henri. ‘My father has his own contacts here, including some who know the Montemoro family quite well. I might be of use to you.’

  ‘Very well. If you’re careful, then. But you must be prepared to follow what I say and not to question it. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I do.’

  ‘Wait a moment,’ said Ned, miffed. ‘This isn’t fair. Why should Henri be able to stay here and investigate, while I have to cool my heels on the mainland? He’s involved too.’

  ‘No. He’s not involved like you, Ned. He’s only known about your mission since last night. And he hasn’t been going around questioning people in Cannaregio or the Ghetto, like you have—and believe me, if that hasn’t got back to the Countess yet, it soon will. If it is she who holds Mateo, then she’ll realize now that the man she’s holding is connected to you and she will know for sure what you’re looking for. And, forgive me, but Jacques d’Arcy and his family are quite well known here, unlike you. Abducting or harming Monsieur d’Axcy’s son would be a very serious matter, whereas you—well, you can be written off as just another disposable English spy who poked his nose in where he shouldn’t have. Besides, Ned,

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  it’s safer for Celia too this way,’ Dr Leone added rather cunningly. ‘You wouldn’t want her put in more danger than necessary, would you?’

  Ned flushed. Was he as transparent as all that? He said defiantly, ‘I would protect Celia with my life, if need be. But I don’t think you quite understand, about her. She is very brave and resourceful. That’s why I wanted her to—’

  ‘The house also happens to be in a most idyllic spot,’ interrupted Dr Leone gently. ‘Arqua, in the Euganean hills. Celia will love it—it was once the house of our great poet, Petrarch. At this time of year, it will be most charming, a real spot for two lovebirds. Flowers, vineyards, olive groves . . .’

  ‘It sounds beautiful,’ said Ned, biting his lip. ‘But we’re not lovebirds. That is, Celia—’

  ‘Just doesn’t know her own mind yet,’ said Dr Leone calmly. ‘Isn’t that right, Henri?’

  The young Frenchman raised his eyebrows. ‘I really would not know,’ he said lightly. Suddenly Ned remembered the aborted duel, the hot words between them on the ship. Was Henri glad to be rid of him? Would he and Celia . . .

  But before Ned could say anything, Dr Leone, who had been watching the two young men, broke in.

  ‘Look, Ned. I promise to let you know what’s happening, as soon as anything does.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ned doubtfully.

  ‘We will go and hire a suitable boat to take you across to the mainland,’ said the alchemist briskly. ‘Once there,

  you will hire a horse to take you to Arqua. Then I will

 

  arrange for Celia and Mistress Quickly to join you, at once. Henri, meanwhile, will stay with me. All the time,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Eh, Henri?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Henri smoothly.

  ‘Are you agreed, then, Ned?’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ said Ned rather ungraciously. He’d had an idea. He might have to look as though he was heading for the Arqua house, but what was to stop him, once he was left alone, from turning back to Venice?

  The three of them fell silent now, as Dr Leone concentrated on steering the gondola through the thickening press of craft on the canal. But if any of them had chanced to look more closely, they might have seen a boat sheltering in the shadow of a landing-stage, where it had been waiting for a few minutes. They might have wondered what the gondolier was waiting for and might then have made out two familiar figures in the passengers who huddled under enveloping blue and green cloaks. They might then have wondered why Celia and Mistress Quickly were apparently hiding from them. But, preoccupied with their troubled thoughts, the men failed to notice anything at all.

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  Conspiracy

  But, Celia, we should have hailed them!’ Mistress Quickly was annoyed. ‘You have foolish fancies sometimes!’

  ‘Sorry, Aunt Bess—I couldn’t let them see us.’

  ‘But why not?’ said her aunt rather peevishly.

  ‘I didn’t want them to spoil our little outing,’ lied Celia shamelessly. ‘Men always want to direct operations and tell you what to look at.’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ said Mistress Quickly, a little

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  appeased. ‘But you did not need to make quite such a mystery of it.’

  Celia ignored that. ‘Aunt Bess, did you see who was

 

  with them?’

  »

  ‘Yes. Young Henri d’Arcy. Which reminds me, we are expected at the d’Arcy house for dinner tomorrow night.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Celia vaguely. ‘Why do you think Henri was with them?’

  Bess Quickly stared. ‘How should I know?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have a soft spot for that French boy?’

  Celia looked back at her boldly. ‘No. I don’t. He’s amusing, but far too fond of himself. Not like his father,’ s
he added mischievously, and was pleased to see the sudden flush that rose to her aunt’s cheeks. ‘I just want to know what Henri’s doing,’ she went on. ‘What Ned’s doing. Why they’re as thick as thieves, all of a sudden, when they couldn’t stand the sight of each other on the ship.’

  ‘Matthew wasn’t with them,’ said Mistress Quickly. ‘I wonder where he is?’

  Off on some trail of his own, Celia thought, even more bitterly. Well, she’d show them, hiding things from her like this!

  She turned to the gondolier, who was patiently waiting for his passengers to make up their minds where they wanted to go.

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  ‘What houses are further down the canal?’ she said, pointing in the direction Dr Leone’s gondola had come from.

  He smiled, showing broken teeth. ‘Many nice palaces, lady. That of the Persico and the Barbarigo and the Montemoro and—’

  ‘Montemoro, you say?’ said Celia sharply.

  ‘Yes. That is so. Ca’ Montemoro—Montemoro House. Very beautiful house. Very rich family.’ He looked sideways at Celia and Mistress Quickly, showing rotten teeth in a sly smile. ‘The Montemoros have a wolf on their shield, and it’s said the Count was once a wolf to the ladies, but has been tamed by his wife. They do say that the woman there is the lord, not the man.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Celia, not really listening to this gossip. So that was where the men had gone! Of course. It made sense. But Master Ashby wasn’t with them. So most likely, he had either stayed behind, at Ca’ Montemoro, or gone ahead somewhere else. The other three had been heading back towards Dr Leone’s district when Celia and Mistress Quickly had seen them. And going quite rapidly too. Getting back before Celia and Mistress Quickly noticed they’d gone?

  ‘Would you like to look more closely at the Montemoro palace, signorinaV said the gondolier, interrupting her thoughts.

  Celia was about to say yes, when she saw the speculative expression on his face. She shook her head.

  -H-

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said casually. ‘My aunt and I, we wish to see the. Ca’ d’Oro—the Golden House.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ said the gondolier with a broad smile. ‘Ladies, they always like the Golden House. It is a good choice. We go now?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Celia calmly. She turned to Mistress Quickly. ‘He is taking us to see the Golden House,’ she said.

  ‘Did I hear him say something about those Monte- moros?’ said Mistress Quickly, settling herself comfortably on the cushions.

  ‘Yes. He was saying they were unpleasant people.’

  ‘Ten to one, that’s where Orlan— Dr Leone and the others were coming from.’

  Celia shrugged and tried to look indifferent. ‘I suppose so. But who cares, on such a fine morning?’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that, child,’ said Mistress Quickly. ‘I don’t like the unsuitable way you’ve been dragged into this ugly business. I’m glad you’ve seen sense.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Bess,’ said Celia meekly.

  They set off again, in the opposite direction to the Montemoro palace, passing under the Rialto bridge and the famous markets clustered around it. They duly oohed and aahed over Ca’ d’Oro, a fantastic gilded palace of Gothic grandeur, and sailed slowly past many other grand palaces, too many to remember. Then, on Celia’s instructions, the gondolier turned into the

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  Cannaregio canal and tied up his boat at a landing-stage a little distance from the entrance.

  ‘There’s something I thought you’d like, Aunt Bess,’ said Celia, to forestall any questions from Mistress Quickly. ‘Ned and I saw a rather lovely little shop here yesterday—it has the finest selections of ribbons and combs I’ve ever seen.’

  That was perfectly true. Casting around for some excuse to stop here, she’d remembered that the day before she had seen the shop, which was not very far from the bridge that led to the Ghetto. She’d noticed it because even at the time she’d thought Aunt Bess would love it. If she could get her aunt ensconced in there for a little while, she might just have time to slip across and find Dr Tedeschi without Mistress Quickly being any the wiser.

  Mistress Quickly was quite unsuspecting of any underhanded motive. She clapped her hands with pleasure. ‘What a good idea! You are a dear girl, Celia, and most thoughtful!’

  Celia felt a little mean then. But that soon faded as Bess Quickly waddled through the door of the shop and plunged herself into the atmosphere she so loved. It was a good deed Celia had just done, and not a trick at all. Watching her aunt bent over a whole selection of silken ribbons, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling, Celia thought she would be there for quite a while, happy as a hen in a dust bath. The time would come when she

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  would want to make some purchases and then Celia would have to help her. But for the moment, she could be safely left to her own devices. Muttering a few words to the effect that she would soon be back, Celia slipped out of the shop, down the street, and over the bridge, into the Ghetto.

  Celia had a very good sense of orientation once she’d been to a place, and she remembered the layout of the streets very well. Here was the house where they’d spoken to the little boy; he was not to be seen today. He’d said Dr Tedeschi’s house was in the next street, and turning the corner, Celia soon saw which house it must be. There was a sign creaking above a door, painted with the international symbol of the doctor: a wooden staff with a snake curled around it.

  Taking no notice of the curious glances of a couple of passersby, she went up to the house and knocked at the door. It was opened almost immediately by a plainly dressed dark woman of about thirty-five, with a pair of very fine black eyes. Eyes that glared suspiciously at Celia.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Her Italian was harshly accented with German intonations.

  Celia thought: This must be Jacob Tedeschi’s sister ,: The one Dr Leone said was a bit of a tartar. She smiled winningly. ‘This is the doctor’s house, no? Dr Tedeschi?’

  The woman looked at her with even more suspicion. ‘Who wants to know?’ She added, ‘He doesn’t deal with

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  hussies and their problems. You’ll have to go to another doctor for that.’

  ‘I’m not a hussy, signora,’ said Celia, flushing. ‘I’m English.’

  The woman snorted. ‘Ha! And that is supposed to make you not a hussy?’ Then she frowned. ‘I am not signora, but signorina. I have never married. Men are an unreliable lot. And how is it you speak such good Italian, anyway?’

  ‘Because I learned to,’ said Celia. ‘Please, signorina, can you go and get Dr Tedeschi? Tell him it’s important. It’s about Sarah.’

  The woman’s face froze. She stared at Celia.

  ‘Please, I’m a friend. My father came to see him yesterday. Master Matthew Ashby.’

  The woman’s face cleared. ‘Ah, the one from England sent to us by Baptista Bassano’s daughter. So. You are this man’s daughter. And so?’

  ‘I need to speak to Dr Tedeschi,’ said Celia, exasperated.

  ‘What for? You have found Sarah?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘My brother Jacob is a busy man,’ said the woman. ‘I will not disturb him for a “no, but.’”

  ‘Please, Signorina Tedeschi, will you find out if he might see me, just for a minute or two? My father has sent me to ask a very important question. It could mean the difference between finding Sarah and—’

  ‘Not finding her,’ said the woman crossly. ‘What is your name, girl?’

  ‘Celia Ashby.’

  ‘Very well,.Celia Ashby. I am Rachel Tedeschi. Come into the waiting room. There are no patients here at the moment. Sit here. Don’t move. I will go and see if my brother has time enough to speak to you.’

  ‘Thank you, signorina,’ said Celia* very politely. As Rachel marched briskly away, Celia smiled to herself. The doctor must not get too many frivolous-minded visitors with this dragon guarding the gate!


  A short time later, the dragon-lady came back, followed by a tall, bespectacled man with thin greying dark hair, a small beard, and a gentle smile. ‘Miss Ashby, thank you for coming.’ He spoke a passable English, if a little hesitant.

  ‘I can speak Italian, if you prefer, Doctor,’ said Celia.

  Dr Tedeschi said, ‘Very well, if that does not bother you. Rachel, perhaps we might have a warm drink and a cake?’

  ‘Please, Dr Tedeschi, that won’t be necessary,’ said Celia hurriedly, envisaging hours of ritual politeness— and Aunt Bess at last tiring of the ribbon shop and looking around for her. ‘I will only use a few minutes of your time. My father asked me to check something for him.’

  ‘Ah. I understand. He is on the track of something?’ The doctor’s eyes lit up with hope.

  Celia swallowed. ‘Yes. That is so. This is the question

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  he asked me to put to you: what was the room like, where your patient lay?’

  Dr Tedeschi and his sister looked startled. The doctor said, T am sorry, signorina, but I do not understand.’

  ‘The room, where the patient lay. Where Sarah watched him, when you went out to mix your medicines. Where was it, in the Montemoro mansion?’

  ‘A bedroom on the second floor. There was an arched window looking over the canal, I fancy . . . the door into the room from the corridor outside . . . and another door in the room.’

  ‘Where did that door lead?’

  ‘To a storeroom, I believe. I didn’t go in there.’

  ‘Did the Count come in through the door from the corridor?’

  Dr Tedeschi stared at her. ‘I presume so. Sarah said he only came in briefly, to check on the patient’s condition. She exchanged maybe two, three sentences with him, that’s all. Then he left. Sarah was only alone with him for a couple of minutes, nothing more.’ Dr Tedeschi sounded defensive.

  ‘Where did you go, Doctor, when you went to prepare your mixtures?’

  ‘Your father asked me that yesterday,’ said Dr Tedeschi. ‘Surely you don’t need—’

  ‘Just to check, Doctor. Please.’

  ‘A small room downstairs, where herbs are kept.’