by S. J. Parris
‘No, please, Most Reverend Prior – I assure you, my faith and my will are as solid as Mount Vesuvius—’
He gave me a shrewd look, as if judging whether I was being facetious. ‘The most volatile mountain in the kingdom, you mean?’
‘That was a bad example. You may trust me, I swear – I have no interest in the city’s temptations, only I must not be late for my tutorial—’
He had heard the note of panic in my voice; his grip on my shoulder tightened. ‘Silent prayer and penitence, Fra Giordano. Humble yourself before Our Lord, and then you may make your confession.’
He led me into the shadow of the cloister, towards the Oratory. Silent prayer and penitence was the prior’s euphemism for detention. The Oratory was a cell, barely large enough to be called a chapel, with no windows save a narrow slit high up in the wall, no furnishings except a crucifix and an altar, and a door that, once locked, could not be opened from the inside. It was, in effect, a prison, and a period of solitude in that dismal place, with no food, was intended to encourage a wayward friar away from thoughts of disobedience.
‘I implore you – I will take my punishment as you command, Most Reverend Prior – only let me start it this evening. Don’t make me miss my tutorial this afternoon – it’s very important—’
He unlocked the heavy door of the Oratory, and I could see by his expression that my protestations were only making him more suspicious.
‘Prayer is no punishment, Fra Giordano – unless you count it a hardship and not a blessing to spend time undistracted in the presence of Our Lord. Do you?’
‘No.’
‘I thought not. I’m sure with a mind as sharp as yours, it will not take you long to catch up on whatever you have missed in your lesson today.’ He pushed open the door and held it for me. I glanced back; his enforcers blocked the path. I had only two choices: I could go inside, or I could be forced in with a punch to the gut.
I bowed to the prior as I ducked through the low doorway into the stale air of the Oratory. It smelled of piss from the last disobedient wretch incarcerated here. ‘How long?’ I asked, as he shut me in. There was a grille in the door with a panel that could be opened to communicate with the prisoner. His bony face appeared in the gap.
‘Until you have a better sense of your duty, my son,’ he said, with a grimace. ‘But overnight, I think. Pax tecum.’ The panel slid shut.
I waited until I heard the key turn, and cursed him colourfully under my breath. A bar of light slanted across the top of the wall from the tiny window. The painted Christ above the altar looked reproachfully at me from beneath his thorny brow.
‘Come on, then,’ I muttered to him, ‘you’re the one who knows how to get out of sealed caves. What’s your trick?’ He did not grant me an epiphany. I sat on the floor with my back against the altar to avoid his gaze, furious with myself for getting caught. Not only had I ruined my last chance to see Fiammetta, but I would be leaving her with the impression that I was the kind of man to abandon a girl with no explanation. I had enough experience of women to know that they did not respond well to being slighted; I feared that if she was upset or angry, she might speak ill of me to her uncle when he returned, and that could jeopardise my place in the Academy, or my chance of seeing his secret library again.
After I had passed ten minutes in futile recrimination, the panel in the door opened. I whipped around, hoping the prior had changed his mind, but instead I saw Raffaele’s face through the grille.
‘Come here,’ he said, imperious as ever. Reluctantly, I moved closer. ‘You’re much safer in there, Bruno,’ he said, unable to keep the delight from his expression. ‘That road to Vomero can be very dangerous. And the della Porta place even more so – you know he practises black magic? Well, of course you do. That’s why you go there, isn’t it? I’m doing you a favour, Brother, protecting your reputation.’
I was tempted to spit in his face, but restrained myself; I did not want to make things any worse. So he had followed me after all; this, too, was the result of my own stupidity.
‘Did you tell the prior I was there?’
The smile curved like a knife. ‘Not yet. I’m deciding what to do with that information. It’s a shame you won’t be able to meet your little vixen, though. Think of her there, all hot and ready, waiting for a friar to satisfy her filthy wanton appetites. I wouldn’t like her to be disappointed, so I must be on my way. Don’t let me interrupt your devotions.’ He made to slide the panel shut.
‘Don’t even think about going near her,’ I hissed, through my teeth. ‘Or God help me, I will kill you.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t you think the girl would be better served by a man who is her equal in status? I’m sure your peasant rutting is all very well, but she’d probably appreciate a little finesse.’
I slammed my hand against the bars. ‘I’m warning you—’
‘What will you do? Fell me with one of Porta’s magic spells?’ He lolled against the door, as if the whole business was a tremendous joke. ‘Keep your voice down, Bruno – we don’t want the prior knowing you’ve been spending your time with that sodomite and his heretical friends, do we? The Inquisition might want a word if they knew. So let’s keep that between ourselves until I’ve shown the girl what a man of quality can do for her.’
I was still cursing uselessly after him as he shut the window. I shouted myself hoarse, but no one came; I paced the cell, impotently furious, even punching the door at one point, though I quickly realised that crippling myself would not help Fiammetta. I thought of her, trustingly waiting for me at the garden gate. Raffaele must have followed me the day before and spied on us; the thought made my skin crawl. She would open the gate to him, in that deserted part of the gardens; she would see a figure in a Dominican’s robe, and open her arms … She would almost certainly have told the few servants to stay away, so we could be private. No one would hear her protests as he pushed her to the ground beneath the lemon trees …
I had worked myself into a frenzy by the time the panel was opened a second time. To my amazement and relief, I saw Paolo’s anxious eyes through the grille. I flung myself against the window like a caged animal, so that he stepped back in alarm, even though the door was between us.
‘Thank God. How did you know I was here?’
He made a face. ‘I presented your apologies to the prior at dinner, as you asked. He thanked me, and said he was well aware of your extramural activities, as he put it. His tone made me realise you’d been discovered. And now he has me marked as your accomplice. Not for the first time.’
‘Sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Listen, I really need you to get me out of here.’
He held up his hands. ‘I brought you a bread roll and some figs – that’s the limit of what I can offer. How could I get the key – the prior has it on a ring at his belt.’
‘There’s a spare. He keeps it in a cupboard in his office – if you wait until he’s in church for nones, you could slip in and borrow it.’
He shook his head, laughing. ‘Madonna porca, Bruno – I’m already in trouble for you, and now you ask me to miss the service, break into the prior’s office, steal a key and help you escape punishment? They will kick me out when we’re caught, and you know what that means – I’ll be sent to some godforsaken monastery at the other end of the kingdom to do menial work for the rest of my miserable life. Can’t you just take your punishment this time? It’s only till the morning – I’ll bring you food.’
‘It’s not that.’ I hesitated. ‘It’s the woman I told you about. I’m supposed to meet her this afternoon, up in Vomero. Raffaele made sure I got locked up so he could go there instead. I’m afraid he’s going to force her.’
‘Oh.’ His eyes darkened; he despised Raffaele as much as I did. ‘Well – that’s different. That entitled little prick. Could you get there in time to stop him?’
‘I don’t know. I think he’s already left – I can only try, as long as you help me.’
He turned
to look across the cloister at the clock on the wall. ‘Ten minutes till nones. I’ll do what I can. You owe me.’
A half-hour passed. I tried to measure time by reciting psalms, but I was too agitated. What was keeping him? When at last I heard a key in the lock, I half-expected to find the prior outside, ready to throw Paolo in with me; instead I saw my friend, furtive in the doorway, hurrying me out.
‘You’re in luck,’ he whispered, casting his eyes from left to right to make sure no one was watching. ‘The prior has gone out to a meeting across town. I need to get this key back before anyone notices I am not in church. Hurry – I hope you’re in time.’
‘Lock that behind me,’ I said, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘Let them think I can walk through walls. You have my undying devotion.’
I raced off to the stables, where I sought out the boy who had provided Gennaro with the horse the other night, and told him that the infirmarian had sent me. He stammered something about needing permission; I insisted it was an emergency, I was acting on Fra Gennaro’s instructions, and lunged at the first horse I could see. Cowed, he saddled it for me and I had spurred it on in a cloud of dust before he had even fully opened the gate. I knew the boy would be punished, Gennaro would be furious with me, and Paolo would also find himself in serious trouble when my flight was discovered. But none of that seemed as urgent as the need to stop Raffaele thinking he could do what he liked with Fiammetta.
I made the journey to Vomero in half the time on horseback, urging the poor beast around sharp corners and up the hill at breakneck pace, several times almost colliding with carts coming down to the city, earning furious curses and fist-shaking from those I nearly trampled. When I reached Porta’s villa, I hammered on the garden gate until my knuckles bled, but there was no response. I strained to listen, but could hear no sound of struggle, or protest. Perhaps he had dragged her to some remote part of the grounds – or perhaps I was so late that he had already finished his business with her and left. But then, I reasoned, I would have seen him on the road here. I tethered the horse to a tree, knotted my habit above my knees and shinned up the wall, dropping down the other side.
The terrace was deserted. I scoured the ground around the gate for any sign of violence, but the earth was baked hard from weeks without rain, and the marks in the dust could have been anything. I stood, helplessly looking around, when my eye was drawn by a splash of colour. I bent and found the blue ribbon from Fiammetta’s hair caught in the grass at the foot of a tree. Had she dropped it there as a sign to me? Or had it been torn from her? I set off along the path through the lemon grove, my heart pounding in my throat. Ahead, the villa’s tiled roof was visible over the trees, and eventually I found my way to the grotto where we had emerged from the underground chambers the day before. I tried the entrance and was surprised to find it unlocked. But once below ground, I realised I had lost my way; the interlinking passageways all looked the same, and I had been too distracted by Fiammetta the last time to have properly mapped it in my mind. I navigated by instinct, taking a left branch and then a right, until I heard footsteps coming the other way; I was reaching into my habit for my knife, when Ercole rounded the corner with what looked like a winding sheet in his arms.
‘Ah. Good afternoon, sir.’ He seemed entirely unruffled to find me there. ‘You were not expected today, I don’t think?’
‘I—’ I stared at him. He was impossible to read. Surely he knew I was meeting Fiammetta, that I had been all week? ‘Fiammetta?’ I asked, too anxious to dissemble. ‘Is she—’
He dipped his head. ‘The lady Fiammetta is quite well. But her father has sent servants to accompany her back to Vico Equense. She is packing for the journey and I’m afraid is unable to receive visitors today.’
I could fathom nothing from his expressionless face. I wanted to shake him.
‘But she’s not – he didn’t hurt her?’
His eyebrow raised a quarter-inch. ‘Who, sir?’
‘A man – you didn’t see him? A Dominican?’ I gestured to my own habit, as if he might not know how to recognise one.
‘There have been no Dominicans here today, sir, except yourself. But I must tell you, my master thinks it would be wise if no one from your order is seen here for the next while. He sends his apologies, and trusts that you will understand the need for discretion.’
‘He is back, then? From Capodimonte?’
Ercole gave a patient smile. ‘I’m afraid I must show you out now, sir, we’re extremely busy.’ He took me gently but firmly by the elbow and steered me along the passage until we reached the meeting chamber of the Academy.
‘You promise me Fiammetta is unharmed?’ I said, as he took me to the door.
‘I assure you, sir, no one in this house would allow a hair on her head to be touched. We are all extremely vigilant where she is concerned.’ He glanced down at my hands as he said this. If he noticed the ribbon I had wound tight around my finger, he did not mention it.
‘I can’t say goodbye to her?’ I knew what his answer would be, but I had to try.
He bowed his head in apology. ‘Best not. She will understand. We will see you here again before too long, sir, I’m sure of it,’ he added, as he opened the door in the cliff and left me there in the road, like Adam shut out of Paradise, unable to make sense of what had happened.
The stable boy told me no one except the head groom had noticed the horse missing, and he had managed to spin a tale that was more or less believed; I promised I would give him money if he kept his mouth shut. I slipped through the grounds unseen and rushed straight up the stairs to the infirmary. Gennaro looked up from the bedside of an elderly brother and swore vehemently at the sight of me.
‘I thought you were locked up?’
‘I am. I was. I need you to put me to bed here and tell the prior that when you came to bring me water, I was running such a fever you feared for my life, so you made the decision to countermand his authority and bring me here for treatment.’
‘Dio cane, I will give you reason to fear for your life if you keep putting me in this position. What has happened now?’
I told him I would explain everything in due course, but I could not let Paolo get into trouble for letting me out. He shook his head and muttered at me, but pointed me to an empty bed at the far end of a row. ‘As long as you have not endangered the Academy?’ he asked, in a low voice, as he bent and tucked a sheet around me. I hung my head.
‘Raffaele knows I’ve been going to Vomero, to della Porta’s house,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘He says he hasn’t told anyone, but I don’t know if I believe him. And if he hasn’t yet, he certainly will after today.’
‘What happened today?’
‘I don’t know exactly. But I think he was thwarted, and that will make him all the hotter for revenge.’
He straightened up and folded his arms, his eyes cold with fury. ‘Giambattista was right,’ he said, through his teeth. ‘You are too young and foolish to be trusted with something like the Academy, for all your brilliance. I was the one who persuaded them to accept you. Now your recklessness will bring us all to ruin.’
I called after him, but he strode away. I passed a wretched few hours, tormented by unanswered questions. I knew I had put Fiammetta in danger, exposed the Academy, and left Gennaro, Paolo and the stable boy to be punished for my carelessness. Late in the evening, I heard the prior’s voice; he and Gennaro argued outside the door of the infirmary, though I could not hear what they were saying. I half-opened my eyes to find the prior standing over my bed, and feigned delirium; I heard Gennaro assuring him that my condition was serious, and though I guessed he trusted neither of us, he left without insisting I be moved. When he had gone, Gennaro sat heavily on the edge of my bed, with an air of defeat that was unlike him.
‘Pompous old fool,’ I said, propping myself up on my elbow. I expected Gennaro to agree; instead, he reached out as if by reflex and cuffed me around the head with the back of his hand.
‘Ow!
Well, he is.’
‘Pompous he may be,’ he said, ‘but he is no fool. He’s a very shrewd politician. You can’t see it because you’re twenty and all you can think about is where to put your rod next. You should know that the Spanish would love to get rid of our prior and replace him with someone more biddable, and your antics may just have given them the excuse.’
I sat back, stung. I had never heard such quiet anger in his voice. ‘Why do they want to get rid of him?’
He sighed. ‘Do you really not know this? The Spanish want to introduce their version of the Inquisition here, with their own people. San Domenico has been instrumental in resisting that, largely thanks to our prior.’
I grunted. ‘Only because he doesn’t want to give up the power that comes with appointing Inquisitors himself.’
‘Partly that,’ Gennaro conceded, ‘but it’s also because he has a sense of justice. The Spanish Inquisition makes our Neapolitan version look positively forgiving. Our law at least requires two witnesses to any charge of heresy – under the Spanish Inquisition, anyone can be arrested and interrogated on the basis of a single accusation. Do you understand what that would mean for someone like Porta? Or you, or me? Or anyone whose neighbour or jealous wife has a grudge against him? One vindictive accusation, and any of us could be tortured until we confess to every crime under the sun.’ He passed a hand over his forehead; I could see his perspiration gleaming in the candlelight. ‘If Raffaele goes to his father, who is in the pocket of the viceroy, with reports that friars from San Domenico are close associates of Giambattista della Porta, they could use that to depose the prior and put in one of their own puppets. Then we could all say goodbye to the limited freedom we enjoy now.’