Nothing to Lose: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Well, he has a point there.”

  Benedict glared at him.

  Casanova smiled and shrugged. “’Twas only a jest. You don’t seem all that savage to me, although you are undeniably a Scot. But we digress. What happened after he refused you?”

  “We attempted to leave. Llewellyn attacked Santi. I told Sara to run but in that instant, Lewellyn struck me in the head with something. Then I woke up here.”

  “And the lovely Sara or Ceres or whatever her name is?”

  “I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Well, for the moment, let’s hope she did run or your chances of ever seeing her again are dismal. Now, you say you’ve kept her for a month. Is she carrying your child?”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. We didn’t…”

  “You didn’t? Why on earth not? How could you possibly know you love each other?” Casanova waved a hand. “It doesn’t really matter. The fact is, no one in Venice, most certainly not her father, will believe you didn’t avail yourself of her charms. Therefore, I suspect once you were incapacitated, he had you arrested and charged with an affront to common decency. One of the crimes, I’m sad to say, which landed me here.”

  Benedict put his throbbing head in his hands. “How am I going to get out of this?”

  “You haven’t been tried yet and you clearly aren’t destitute. Bribes work rather well.”

  “I suspect Llewellyn is significantly better at that game than I am.”

  “No doubt. But one never knows what miracle might transpire.”

  ~ * ~

  By that evening, Sara had reason to hope. Zina’s servant had learned that Ben had been arrested and charged with an affront to common decency on the grounds that he had despoiled Ceres Llewellyn.

  Emilio Santi was not arrested. Aside from the fact that he had done nothing wrong, he was a well-respected member of Venetian society. In fact, he had almost convinced the chief of police to arrest Llewellyn for assaulting him. But in the end, the chief probably stood to gain more from Llewellyn than from Santi, so he didn’t make the arrest.

  Ben was being held in the Leads while he awaited trial. Signore Santi was working through legal channels to effect Ben’s release.

  She went to sleep that night hoping to be reunited with Ben the next day.

  Llewellyn had called on Zina that evening and Sara stayed quietly ensconced in the green bedroom until he left the next morning. Once he was well gone, Zina filled her in and Sara’s hopes plummeted.

  “Reese spent most of the evening ranting about the day’s events. However, he also bragged about spreading around enough money to secure a rapid conviction.”

  “No. How can he say he loves his daughter and do that to the man she loves?”

  “I asked him the same thing. But he’s convinced that she’s too young to know anything about love and once she’s away from Venice, she’ll get over it.”

  “Do you think it will work? Will he get Ben convicted?”

  Zina smiled. “No, I don’t think so. You see, I have contacts of my own. Reese also dropped a tidbit of information that will be incredibly useful. Apparently, they’ve put Ben in a cell with Giacomo Casanova.”

  “How is that helpful?”

  “Casanova and I have a mutual benefactor, Count Bragadin. Other than a lawyer, the prisoners in the Leads are not allowed visitors, but I have reason to believe Bragadin has a way of communicating with Casanova. I will pay a visit to the Count this morning. He’ll know if there is something that can be done, and at the very least will enable us to send messages to Ben. Casanova himself may have some insight as to the best way to proceed.”

  Zina was true to her word and Count Bragadin promised to find out what he could.

  Later that day, Signore Santi had called on Zina at her request. When he arrived, he was enormously relieved to find Sara there.

  Sara jumped straight to the issue at hand. “What news do you have, Signore?”

  “Unfortunately, it isn’t as good as I’d hoped.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing. Not yet anyway. I have discussed the situation with our attorney. He tells me that Llewellyn has contacts in the judiciary. He fears if Benedict is taken to trial, he will be convicted. So our lawyer is working to try to have the charges dropped.”

  Sara covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to cry.

  Zina put an arm around her. “Don’t despair yet, Sara. It seems the route forward is obvious. We will let the lawyer do what he does best, but we will plan for a contingency. If he can’t get the charges dropped, we simply need to get Ben out of prison before he goes to trial.”

  “How is that possible?”

  A slow smile spread across Zina’s face. “My dear, Llewellyn may have friends in high places, but sometimes friends in low places are equally, if not more, valuable. The guards in the ducal prison are paid a shockingly low salary. There is always an opportunity to improve their lives, for which they are not only grateful, but often seem to suffer temporary blindness. I will see what can be done tomorrow.

  ~ * ~

  Zina’s news the next afternoon buoyed Sara’s spirits a good deal.

  “The information from Count Bragadin is excellent. He had to improve the lives of several people to be able to contact Casanova but what he learned is very good news indeed.”

  “Is Ben all right?”

  “It seems so. He has a bit of a headache as you might imagine, but he is otherwise fine. As luck would have it, it seems that Casanova has already been working on a way to escape and his plans are nearing completion. He paused work on it for fear that Ben was a spy, but Bragadin has vouched for him. The problem is, once the work is completed, his escape route will take him out of the cells, but not all of the way out of the castle. We need some inside help for that. I’ve greased a good few palms to ensure their way will be clear.”

  “When can we do this? Tonight?”

  Zina shook her head. “No. It will take a bit of planning. First, we need to check with Signore Santi to see how things are coming on the legal front. The Count believes, if it’s possible, it would be much better for Benedict to have the charges dropped and be released than it would be for him to escape.”

  “But what if they aren’t dropped, or things drag on forever?”

  “We won’t let that happen. We will put things in place for the escape to occur next week regardless.” Zina flashed a quick grin. “Casanova grows weary in prison. He has four more years to go on his sentence, but he’s decided a year is quite long enough. Everyone concerned believes the best opportunity for the escape to be successful is to attempt it on a holiday. The feast of the Assumption is only five days away and the day after that is St. Rocco’s feast day. Two holidays back-to-back will be even better. They will make their escape from the cells the night of the Assumption and will be free from the palace early in the morning of St. Rocco’s day.”

  “Then what?”

  “We will have to speak with Signore Santi about that, for we’ll need his assistance. I’ve sent a message requesting he come here tomorrow.”

  ~ * ~

  Sara could scarcely sleep that night. If Benedict was caught escaping from prison, he could be in prison for a very long time. She prayed that the legal maneuvers would work. But sleep eluded her as she couldn’t stop imagining one tragic scenario after another.

  In the message Zina had sent to Signore Santi, she had suggested he time his visit fairly early in the day, as it would ensure that he and Llewellyn would not meet. It was unlikely Reese would visit before midday.

  When pleasantries had been exchanged and they had taken seats in the drawing room, Emilio shared his news. “My lawyer says he is still hopeful he will be able to get the charges dropped.”

  “There’s a ‘but’ hovering at the end of that sentence,” said Zina.

  He nodded. “But hopeful is one thing and confident is another. Sadly, he is not confident. He did say he was certain it won’t happ
en today, nor will it happen over the weekend. The decision will be made Monday at the earliest.”

  Sara’s heart fell.

  Zina said, “Then we will just have to plan for the worst. Tuesday is the Feast of the Assumption. We’ll put the necessary preparations in place to facilitate their escape.”

  Signore Santi nodded. “I agree. What else is needed?”

  Zina answered, “I have everything arranged up to the moment they walk out the door. After that, we will need to get them out of the city. Casanova believes a gondola will be sufficient. And it probably is for him. But Ben and Sara will need more. I suspect the best course of action is to book passage for them on a ship that has no connection to Llewellyn, which will leave as soon as they are aboard Wednesday morning.”

  “It may be a challenge but I’ll see that it’s done.”

  Zina’s brows drew together. “Signore, I don’t wish to put undue stress on you, but if you think there is the remotest chance that the charges against Ben will be dropped and he will be released, you need to have similar arrangements in place for Monday.”

  “If he is released on Monday, can’t we just wait until Wednesday to leave?” asked Sara.

  “On Wednesday, it may take a while for the escape to be discovered and then for news of it to reach Reese. It’s likely we’ll have a few hours’ cushion. But if Ben is released on Monday, Reese will know as soon as it happens—if not before—and he will be furious. If we dawdle at all, it will give him time to act. I have no doubt he’ll be out for blood. We have to get both of you out of his reach immediately.”

  Sara could scarcely believe what she was hearing. It was bad enough that Benedict had lost his freedom and would lose his home and his business because of her. Now he was at risk of losing his life. She put her head in her hands.

  Signore Santi patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll free him and get you both well away from Reese Llewellyn.”

  “But where can we go? When we were considering not telling him about us, but just leaving Venice, Ben mentioned returning to Scotland.”

  “You can’t do that now,” said Zina. “That is far too close to Reese’s base of power and he would expect Ben to go there.”

  Signore Santi nodded. “And you can’t go to any major European port, at least not for long. When he fails to find you in Venice or Scotland, he will look further afield, Naples, Genoa, Marseille, Barcelona, Lisbon, none of them would be safe. You might consider smaller ports, like Dubrovnik, Cadiz, or Saint-Nazaire.”

  Zina shook her head. “Maybe in the short term, but I don’t believe any European port will be safe for long. Reese is a man who holds grudges. He will believe that Benedict has stolen his precious daughter from him and will never stop looking to exact revenge.”

  “Then where do you suggest?” he asked.

  “The colonies,” she said simply.

  Signore Santi shook his head. “No. That is British territory. He might not start looking there, but he surely will eventually. And once he does, he’ll be able to find them easy enough. Plus, he’ll have his own legal system on his side.”

  A smile spread across Zina’s face, and for the first time that morning Sara smiled too.

  Signore Santi frowned. “What amuses you both?”

  “Signore,” said Sara, “I know you are familiar with how I came to be here.”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced at Zina, silently asking for her permission to reveal that she too was a time traveler. Zina nodded. “Well, Zina and I didn’t just happen to meet and become friends. Gertrude introduced us because Zina too used the watch a number of years ago and stayed here.”

  Santi looked shocked. “There are more of you?”

  Zina shrugged. “Evidently. However, back to your question, the colonies are not always going to be under British control. If Ben and Sara change their surname, I think the chances are very slim that Llewellyn will be able to locate them ever. And in a matter of years, the British will be out and he’ll have no legal recourse, so it won’t matter.”

  He smiled. “Then I suspect that is the best choice in the long-run. Now, there is one other thing to discuss. Sara, the two of you will need funds to set up a new life and I find myself in a position to be able to buy out my partner. I will make the necessary arrangements. I will also have someone pack up what they can from Benedict’s home—clothing and personal items and so forth. I’ll see that it’s all stowed on your ship.”

  Zina frowned. “Aren’t you worried he might have Benedict’s home watched?”

  He shook his head. “I have spies of my own. His men did search the island but, coming up with nothing, haven’t been back. It should be easy enough to get what they will need. Now, I have a bit of work ahead of me, so I’ll take my leave. I don’t believe I am being watched, but just in case, I probably shouldn’t visit here again. I will send someone on Sunday who will fill you in on all the details of the arrangements I make.”

  ~ * ~

  On Sunday afternoon, Santi did send a messenger to tell them what plans had been made. If Benedict was released on Monday, he would be taken immediately to board a ship bound for Valencia, Spain. Santi would also have someone poised to take Sara to the ship.

  But if Benedict wasn’t released, the escape would ensue. Then on Wednesday morning, they would leave on a ship bound for Portugal. Signore Santi would make arrangements for Sara to board that ship well ahead of time on Tuesday. The captain of that vessel would keep her hidden until they sailed.

  Finally, there would be a gondola awaiting Signore MacIan and Signore Casanova on Wednesday morning. It would first take Benedict into the harbor to the ship bound for Lisbon. Then Signore Casanova would be taken onward to the mainland, where a carriage had been arranged for him. Regardless of whether Sara and Benedict went to Spain or Portugal, they would be able to arrange passage onward to the colonies.

  The entire situation worried Sara. The plan revolved around so many people it seemed impossible that it would remain a secret. She could only be vigilant and hope. She would not allow herself to be put on a ship for England.

  Chapter 19

  Benedict didn’t quite know what to make of Giacoma Casanova. He had heard rumors about the infamous libertine. He assumed the man to be older and—well there was no other word for it—softer. In his experience men of Casanova’s ilk had no great skills, did little to dirty their hands, and showed disdain to anyone who actually worked for a living.

  However, Casanova surprised Benedict in many ways. It was true that the man was irreverent nearly to the point of blasphemy, and thus could maybe be accused of being an “affront to religion.” In his manner of speaking, he also gave every impression of being indifferent to the plight of others, or even his own, but that was not borne out by his actions.

  On Benedict’s first night in the Leads, Casanova shared his dinner. “It’s nearly certain they will bring you nothing tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow. I have a generous benefactor, Count Bragadin, who ensured I was given a stipend of sixty soldi per day. I have more than enough. You’ll need to arrange for someone to bring you a bed and perhaps a chair. I can ask the Count to take care of it, if you wish.”

  “Arrange for furniture?”

  “Yes. I’ll give you a blanket to lay on and another to use as a pillow, but if you are here for more than a few days, you will want a bed at the very least.”

  Benedict didn’t want to think of the possibility that he would be there more than one night, or maybe two. He hadn’t committed a crime.

  Over the next few days, Benedict found his cellmate to be well read and interesting to talk to, often displaying a wickedly funny, dry wit. It made the hours in the hellish heat tolerable.

  The only thing that really confused Benedict seemed to happen every evening. After the guards had left in the evening, a scraping sound could be heard overhead. When Benedict first heard it, Casanova pretended that he could hear nothing. When Benedict insisted that something was scratching at the c
eiling, Casanova acknowledged hearing the noise but credited it to rats.

  “There are rats the size of rabbits here.”

  “By the almighty, if that sound is being made by rats, they’d need to be the size of ponies,” countered Benedict.

  “They are just loud rats. Believe me, who would know better than I? If they break through, we’ll make saddles for them and ride out of here.”

  Then, after about four hours, the noise abruptly stopped, not starting again until the next evening.

  On Friday, Benedict learned from his lawyer that Llewellyn had not been able to find his daughter since the incident.

  “Is she safe?” asked Benedict.

  The lawyer had glanced pointedly at Casanova before answering. “I certainly hope so, sir, but I would have no way of knowing. As I said, her father hasn’t found her yet.”

  “MacIan, in case you didn’t catch his meaning,” said Casanova, “if he knows anything about Miss Llewellyn’s whereabouts, he couldn’t indicate that in front of me. I might be a spy. But I’m going to do you a favor. I’m going to turn my back. If he knows she is safe and well, he’ll hold up one finger. If he doesn’t know her whereabouts but she is assumed to be well, he’ll hold up two fingers. If he truly knows nothing or is too cowardly to tell you, he’ll shake his head. That way, you might get a meaningful answer and stop worrying. Although I fear that’s a vain hope.”

  Casanova did turn his back and to Benedict’s great relief the lawyer flashed one finger before saying, “I’m sorry, sir, as I said I have no way of knowing. However, I wanted you to know that I am trying to get the charges dropped. It’s likely they’ll make a determination on Monday.”

  Benedict sighed. He had slept on the floor for three nights so far, but he hadn’t made arrangements for a bed because he’d believed he’d be leaving. Now faced with at least three more nights in this hell that was the Doge’s prison, Benedict gave in and asked the lawyer to arrange for him to have a bed.

  “Don’t forget linens,” said Casanova. “Ask for extra linens. You’ll want two, maybe three sets.”

  It was on the tip of Benedict’s tongue to tell his cellmate that he would certainly not need extra linens because he would be released soon, but he stopped himself. He had no idea of whether he would be released soon or not. And even if he was, Casanova still had nearly four years to serve on his sentence. It would be rude to rub that in, and he seemed very keen on getting those linens. If Benedict was released, he’d leave them behind. It was the least he could do.