Order of Darkness

by Philippa Gregory

  ‘Amen,’ the crowd said with one low voice, and the Doge turned on his heel and went, bareheaded, back inside the palace.

  Isolde turned to Luca, and saw that he was white with shock.

  ‘Come,’ Brother Peter said shortly, and led the way back to the palazzo.

  ‘I must go to the Rialto and see Father Pietro . . .’ Luca protested.

  ‘No! We have to do something first.’

  ‘Brother Peter?’

  ‘Come!’

  ‘What?’ Ishraq trotted beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. ‘What’s so important?’

  ‘Milord gave me some orders that I was to open the moment that I learned that the territories were going to default on their tribute.’

  ‘He knew this was going to happen?’ Ishraq suddenly stopped. ‘Milord knew that the territories would use bad coin?’

  ‘He can’t have known that,’ Brother Peter strode on, unhesitating. ‘How could anyone know that? But he was prepared for it. He was prepared for anything on this mission. In the event of there being a default he gave me some orders to open. We have to open them now.’

  Isolde and Luca were half running to keep up with Brother Peter’s great strides. Luca caught at Isolde’s hand, and kept pace with him. Freize came swiftly behind them.

  ‘How does he know such things?’ Freize demanded of himself. ‘Those sealed orders? How does he write them ahead of time. Just to torment me?’

  Brother Peter pushed through the crowd to get to the side entrance and enter the palazzo.

  He went without hesitating, upstairs to his bedroom and brought the sealed orders out to the rest of them in the dining room. Luca pulled out chairs for Isolde and Ishraq and then seated himself at the head of the table. Freize dropped onto a stool near to the door. ‘The sealed orders,’ he said irritably. ‘Always. Out they come. Always bad news.’

  Brother Peter took no notice of anyone. He broke the seal and spread the paper on the table. He frowned and pushed it over to Luca. ‘You read,’ he said. ‘You can translate the code much quicker than I.’

  Luca took the paper, scowled for a moment, and then slowly read aloud.

  ‘In the event of the territories failing to pay tribute to the Ottoman overlords, you are to take this note to the Hungarian ambassador, show him the seal, and authorise them to buy the false coins with the gold that they have in store. You are to take this note to the Comarino family and authorise them to use their private gold store to buy the false coins. You yourself are to use whatever coins and whatever gold you have to buy the English nobles at the lowest price you can offer for them. You will not sell any English gold nobles that you have. If the ship comes in after you have read these orders, you will use all the cargo to buy the devalued English gold nobles at the lowest price possible.’

  Luca stopped reading and put down the paper. ‘Has he gone mad?’

  ‘But everyone else is selling gold nobles, for far less than their value,’ Isolde said. ‘Everyone is selling: not buying.’

  ‘They have no value,’ Ishraq pointed out.

  ‘What do we do?’ Luca asked.

  ‘As he orders,’ Brother Peter said wearily. He rose up from the table and held out his hand for the letter for the Hungarian ambassador and for the Comarino bank. ‘Shall I take these? And you buy the nobles with whatever coins we have left? And go to a bank and promise them that we will take their nobles in exchange for the cargo, when the ship comes in?’

  ‘But why?’ Ishraq asked. ‘Why would Milord want us to spend good money on bad?’

  Brother Peter’s face was as dark as when he had confessed his pretended shame. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I don’t need to know. I am to obey Milord’s commands and do the work of God though it leads me into the deepest sin. I have to trust him. I have to trust his judgement. I have to obey his orders. Look what happened when we disobeyed!’ He glanced up. ‘Will you come with me, Freize?’

  ‘Of course,’ Freize said with his quick sympathy. He glanced at Luca. ‘If I may?’

  ‘Go,’ Luca said absently. ‘I’ll go through the treasure chest and take what gold we have left to the money changers. There’s not much, but they’ll be glad to take it in return for the worthless nobles, I don’t doubt.’

  ‘But why?’ Ishraq demanded. ‘Why would Milord want you to buy the bleeding nobles? When everyone knows they are no good?’

  ‘I don’t ask why,’ Brother Peter answered her.

  ‘We’ll help,’ Isolde spoke for her and Ishraq.

  ‘But I do! I ask why!’ Ishraq exclaimed.

  ‘I’ll send the gondola back for you,’ Brother Peter said heavily, and they heard him and Freize go down the stairs together to the watergate and call for Giuseppe.

  Luca went into his bedroom and drew a great wooden chest out from beneath his bed. The girls followed him and watched as he opened the lid.

  ‘You have a small fortune here,’ Ishraq whispered as she saw the gold nobles in the little purses.

  ‘I had a small fortune,’ he corrected her. ‘Now it is almost worthless.’

  He moved the purses of the gold nobles and found beneath them a single gold bar and three gold rings.

  ‘I’ll buy your bleeding nobles from you,’ Luca offered. ‘If you will take the low price that Venice has set. At least I can take them off your hands.’

  ‘No,’ Ishraq said, forestalling Isolde, who was eager to accept. She turned to her friend. ‘It was my mistake to try to make money on this market, but if we sell the nobles at this rate then we have lost your mother’s rubies forever. Let’s hold on to our nobles, bad as they are, and see what happens. Luca’s lord must be planning something. He must have some reason to want to buy nobles.’

  ‘Nothing can happen!’ Isolde said irritably. ‘You traded my mother’s jewels for fools’ gold. We have to pay the price.’

  ‘But Milord is doing something else,’ Ishraq said cautiously. ‘He’s buying false coins. He’s buying fools’ gold.’

  ‘But you don’t know what for? You don’t know why?’

  ‘I don’t,’ Ishraq said. ‘But I know he’s no fool. I’ll keep our English nobles until he sells his.’

  ‘When we could have gold instead?’ Isolde said regretfully, gesturing to Luca’s handful of gold rings.

  ‘If you won’t take this then I have to go to the Rialto and buy dross,’ Luca said. ‘I wish we could write to Milord to make sure it is what he wants. I cannot believe this is what he intended. I wish we knew what he plans. For this is madness: throwing good money after bad.’

  When the gondola came back for Luca and the two young women, they were ready to go to the Rialto, with their gold and silver coins in their purses and pockets, and the rings on their fingers. The bridge was busy again – the news that the exchange rate for the gold nobles had been fixed by the Doge himself had made people confident enough to open their shops. Only the money changers were still missing, and where Israel had sat there was an obscene scrawl on his board and, in spiky thick letters, the word Arrestato.

  Luca went at once to the mooring post at the foot of the bridge and started forwards when he saw the priest, bending over his little writing table. ‘Father Pietro!’

  Slowly, the old priest turned to look at the young man and, at the sorrow in his lined face, Luca did not need to ask more.

  ‘The nobles failed,’ the priest said quietly. ‘Bayeed is not in Trieste; he came to Venice yesterday for repairs to his ship and moored near to the Arsenale. My messenger found him there. So he knew all about the failure of the coins as soon as we did. The nobles bled when he tipped them out of the purse, and then he heard the Doge announce that the whole Ottoman Empire believes that it has been cheated. He thinks that Venice tried to cheat his empire, and that you tried to cheat him. He called me a cheat also. I am sorry, my son.’

  ‘He is here?’ Luca could hardly believe that his father was in the same city, just one mile away, in the dockyard where the galleys were built. ‘
Then I can go to him. I have some gold, I can promise more . . . I can explain!’

  Father Pietro nodded. ‘We will try again, in a month or so. When Bayeed’s anger has abated.’

  ‘But he cannot be angry with us . . . we have all been cheated!’

  Father Pietro shook his head, tears filling his eyes, turning his head away from Luca.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Ishraq quietly, coming up behind Luca and sensing the older man’s distress. ‘What is it, Father?’

  Blindly, the old man reached out to her and she took his hand on her shoulder, as if to support him ‘Wait a moment,’ she said to Luca, who was breathlessly impatient. ‘Wait, let the Father speak.’

  The old man raised his head. ‘Forgive me. This has been a blow. This has been a terrible blow. Last year the Ottoman Empire took tribute from the Christian territories that it had invaded in pure gold and the best of coins. As they always do. Sometimes they take goods, of course, always they take young boys to serve in their armies. This is how it is. This is how the Christian lands suffer for their defeat by the infidel. This is how the Christian rulers pay for peace: they have to pay tribute in gold and in children. This is our suffering, this is our Station of the Cross.’ He paused.

  ‘Last year, before tribute time, they let it be known that they would take gold or the English nobles. Then, as the English nobles went up in value, they said they would only take the coins. Everyone works to pay the tribute, the whole country has to pay the tax to give to the Ottoman overlords. This year they only wanted the gold coins. They loved the gold coins, the English nobles.’

  ‘And what happened?’ Luca asked, unable to contain himself any longer. ‘When did they find out?’

  ‘The coins bled,’ the old man said simply. ‘Bled like the wounds of Our Lord. Bled into the hands of the murderous infidel. And they swore that they had been cheated. They think they have been cheated by us. They think we gave them false coins on purpose, so that they would take the tribute home and spread it throughout their country, destroying trust in every village market throughout their infidel empire. They think that we planned this to ruin their markets and their traders and empty their treasury. And so they are angry – beyond anger – and they are sending back the bleeding coins and demanding gold. We will have to find gold,’ he said. ‘We will have to pay a third of a ducat for each false noble. God help us all. People will starve to death to get this tax together. Half of Greece will be ruined. All of the Christian lands conquered by the infidel will be crucified all over again.’

  ‘And my father?’ Luca breathed.

  Father Pietro rubbed his face with his hands. ‘He will remain enslaved,’ he said shortly. ‘Along with the half a dozen other men who expected their freedom today or tomorrow. Yours was not the only ransom we paid. Bayeed has sent back the false coins and will set sail tonight cursing us for cheats. He accuses us of double dealing, my reputation as an agent for enslaved men is destroyed. My years of service are made worthless. My name is shamed.’

  He took a breath, trying to steady himself. ‘We will try again, my son, we will try again. We will find our courage, and I will rebuild my reputation and we will try again. But your father will not be free this month, nor the next.’

  ‘But I sent the money.’ Luca could hardly speak. ‘I sent the money in good faith.’

  ‘And Bayeed would have released your father in good faith. But you sent counterfeit coins, my son. You sent fools’ gold, and Bayeed is no fool.’

  Luca turned away like a man stunned, as Brother Peter and Freize came up to the little group. ‘Give me the purse,’ Brother Peter said shortly. ‘There is a bank here that will give me the bad nobles for Milord’s gold or silver, they will take coppers – whatever we have.’

  Wordlessly, Luca held out the purse.

  ‘You are buying the counterfeit coins?’ the priest asked in utter amazement. ‘The bleeding nobles?’

  Brother Peter hushed him, and nodded. ‘I should not have spoken aloud. I beg you not to repeat it.’

  ‘But why, my son?’ Father Pietro said quietly, putting a hand on Brother Peter’s arm as he took the purse from Luca and the girls pulled the rings off their fingers. ‘Why would you buy false coins?’

  ‘Because I am ordered to do so,’ Brother Peter said shortly. ‘God knows, I take no pleasure in it and it makes no sense to me.’

  Father Pietro turned to Luca but the young man was silent, and stood as if he were dreaming. Ishraq and Isolde stood on either side of him, and when he did not move, took his arms and guided him, like a fever patient, back to the gondola. They helped him down the steps and waited with him in the boat until Brother Peter and Freize joined them.

  ‘They will keep the nobles at the bank for me until we are ready to leave this accursed city,’ Brother Peter said. ‘We will have sacks and sacks of dross to carry.’ He turned to Freize. ‘You’ll have to buy us another donkey to carry nothing but rust.’

  Dully, Luca shook his head. Isolde and Ishraq exchanged a worried glance behind his back. Giuseppe guided the gondola into the centre of the canal. ‘Home?’ he asked monosyllabically.

  Nobody replied until Freize said: ‘Home,’ and they all thought how cheerless the word seemed today.

  ‘My father will never come home,’ Luca said quietly.

  ‘We’ll try again,’ Isolde assured him. ‘We know where he is now, and we know how to get a message to Bayeed. We’ll try again. And we know where your mother may be. We can try again, Luca. We can hope. We can save money and make them an offer. We can try again.’

  He sighed wearily, as if he were tired of hoping, and then he rested his chin in his hands and stared across the water as if he wished he were somewhere else, and not in the most beautiful city in Christendom.

  They had a quiet cheerless dinner. Brother Peter said nothing but a few words for grace over the dishes, Luca was completely silent, Freize tried a few remarks and then gave up and concentrated on eating. Isolde and Ishraq watched Luca, ate a little, and said a few words to one another. After dinner, Brother Peter rose up, gave thanks, said a quiet goodnight to them and went into his room and closed the door.

  ‘I will go to him,’ Luca said suddenly. ‘Bayeed the slaver. I will go and see him.’ Suddenly decisive, he rose up from the table. ‘They could sail at any moment. I’ll go now.’

  ‘What for?’ Ishraq asked. ‘We have nothing to buy your father’s freedom with.’

  ‘I know he won’t trade,’ Luca said. ‘But I want to try to see my father. Just to see him. To tell him that I tried and I will try again.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’ Isolde asked quietly.

  ‘No,’ Luca said shortly. ‘Stay here. I have to go at once. I can’t think . . .’ He broke off and bent his head and kissed her hand. ‘Forgive me. I can’t think of you now. I have to go to my father and tell him I will find him again, wherever that monster takes him, and I will free him. If not now, then soon, as soon as I can.’

  Freize cleared his throat. ‘Better take Ishraq,’ he said. ‘For the language.’ He turned to her. ‘Can you wear your Arab clothing?’ he asked.

  She nodded and ran to change out of her gown.

  ‘And money,’ Freize said. ‘To bribe the guard, there’s bound to be a guard.’

  Luca rounded on him. ‘I have no money!’ he shouted. ‘Thanks to your pretty girlfriend and her father I have no money to buy my father’s freedom!’

  ‘I’ll give you something,’ Isolde interrupted. ‘Don’t blame Freize. It’s not his fault. I’ve got something. A little gold ring.’

  ‘I can’t take your mother’s jewellery.’

  ‘You can,’ she said. ‘Please, Luca. I want to help.’

  She ran from the room to fetch it and came back with two thin rings in her hand.

  ‘I’ll get Giuseppe,’ Freize said and went downstairs leaving Luca alone with Isolde. She took his hand and pressed the rings into his palm. ‘It’s worth it,’ she said. ‘For you to see your father, to br
ing him some hope.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I am grateful. I really am.’

  ‘Please let me come with you,’ she whispered.

  He shook his head, and she thought he had not really heard her, he did not even see her stretch out her hand to him as he went from the room; and then she heard him run swiftly down the stairs to the waiting gondola.

  Giuseppe, standing tall in the stern of the gondola, worked the single oar, rowing the narrow black boat down the Grand Canal in silence broken only by the splash of the waves. The light from the lantern in the prow bobbed and danced, reflecting in the dark water; the waning moon traced a silvery path before them. Ishraq sat with her back to the gondolier. The two young men sat facing her, Luca constantly turning to look towards their destination over the glossy darkness of the moving tide.

  Even at night, even on the water, even during carnival they could see that the city had been hit by loss. There were far fewer people in costume, there were far fewer assignations. One or two determined lovers were being slowly rowed around, the door of the cabin tightly shut; but Venice was in mourning for money, quietly at home, turning over bleeding gold nobles, trying to settle up the accounts.

  Luca was taut with nerves, staring ahead into the darkness as if he would see the towers of the Arsenale looming up before them. They went past the square of San Marco where the lights burning in the high windows of the Doge’s Palace showed that surveillance was unsleeping. Freize nudged Luca.