Antonio then scanned the far tables and noticed, with a slight flinch, that his interceptor still spied upon him. Vincenza returned to the table, topped up everyone's wine, and then became the embodiment of charm and merriment. The men all basked in her full attention, as she entertained and relaxed them all, to the extent that Antonio almost forgot the events of the day and even Malvolio that continued to glare at them all.
Hermes, unused to wine, got merriest first and he enjoyed the feeling of freedom his tipsy state gave him. He was not sure if it was the wine or the close presence of Antonio, but he felt like he had no cares in the world for the first time in many years. Antonio could not help but admire the courtesan: her talents, her culture, and her gift for conversation, and understood before long what so drew his father to her.
The food arrived with yet more drinks as Vincenza had ordered a bottle of robust Malmsey wine. Giovanni raised his brows at the expense:
‘But it’s his favourite too’ Vincenza exclaimed, pointing to the monkey that seemed to recognise the beverage on sight. The monkey skipped about the table and gave a screech of excitement when the Malmsey was corked, and its distinctive scent oozed from within. Vincenza then filled a thimble with the beverage and handed it to Signore da Barretto. The Macaque licked at his tiny cup and squeaked with pleasure. They all rumbled with laughter, and Vincenza raised several more toasts as they tucked into the rich seafood risotto, in the Byzantine style - topped with gold leaf - she had ordered for the table.
Under Vincenza's influence, they all talked long into the night, and Giovanni demonstrated his own talents for conversation, and outrageous stories, that had everyone howling with incredulous laughter. Vincenza used her well-trained eye, honed after years at court, and observed, as she entertained, the subtle body language between the two young men:
‘Take our room tonight’ she said to the pair as they chatted. Antonio looked surprised.
‘We couldn’t possibly’ he said, ‘if anything we should be leaving’ he added,
‘Don’t be silly’ she said, ‘it’s arranged already.' Vincenza glanced over to the Innkeeper, polishing glasses at the bar, who gave a fractional nod back to acknowledge a prior conversation. 'It’s late, and it’s hard to find a safe gondola at this hour.’
‘She’s right’ said Giovanni, half collapsed, ‘I wouldn’t chance it.' Antonio looked to Hermes who replied with a contented shrug: the youth shone and seemed to Antonio to have come entirely out of himself. He remembered their kiss, in San Marco's Square, and felt an echo of the bolt run through his body.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘we'll stay; besides, it will be easier to revisit my uncle from here tomorrow.' The table agreed, and Hermes beamed even more at the thought of spending more time with Antonio. Eventually, everyone retired as people left the Inn, stumbling outside, or went to their rooms. Signore da Barretto climbed up the arm of his mistress and yawned. Vincenza then gave the key to her original room to Antonio, and Giovanni, with some effort, followed her upstairs to spend the night in their new abode. Antonio looked deep at Hermes, as they lingered at the table to talk about their night. Hermes giggled at some inferred joke that Antonio made, and Antonio smiled before he ran a hand through Hermes' curly hair. The youth did not retreat, but instead turned his face towards the hand and kissed the wrist.
No one saw the moment, or those that did were too drunk to care. The Golden Phoenix had a reputation worth whispering about by those in the know. But Malvolio, from the shadows, still looked on: he saw everything. He clenched his fists and muttered under his breath when Antonio slipped his hand around Hermes' waist to support him up the stairs, and along the balcony to Vincenza’s sumptuous room.
When the Innkeeper called time on his regular customer, Malvolio barged his way out of the Golden Phoenix and marched with conviction to his new destination.
Antonio and Hermes entered their new room that was, luxurious, quiet, and comfortable, and locked the door behind them. Antonio tossed the key to one side before he kissed his companion, and swung Hermes into his embrace.
Chapter 8
Ambush
The Golden Phoenix, morning, Tuesday, October 25th, 1611
The door to Vincenza’s room rattled and banged, and loud male voices could be heard outside of the door, as Antonio untangled himself from Hermes' arms.
‘Who is it?’ asked Antonio bleary-eyed, as Hermes rubbed at his face in sleepy confusion at the noise and commotion:
‘It’s the Office of the Night’ came the reply,
‘What?’ he said, his heart pounding. Hermes yawned, and had still not quite awoken,
‘What’s the Office of The Night?’ he asked, ‘and why are they banging on the door so early in the morning?’
‘This is not good’ said Antonio, his face stricken.
‘Ready yourselves’ said a gruff voice behind the door, ‘we have obtained a master key.' Antonio heard jangling and then leapt, like an athlete, naked out of bed to attempt to dress, but the door had already begun to open.
‘WAIT’ he said trying to shove his foot into his stocking as he bounced on one leg, but the door opened halfway as four men looked in. Antonio mooned their critical gaze as he yanked his stockings over his buttocks. Hermes bolted upright at the intrusion wide-eyed.
‘What’s going on?’ he whispered,
‘We’re the office of the night’ declared one strong set man from his vantage point, ‘we received a complaint.’
‘What?’ repeated Antonio, paused midway through dragging on his shirt to wrack his mind, ‘who complained about us? What’s the meaning of this? I’m here with my wife’ he said, and Antonio made a gesture to the side to signal for Hermes to put himself under the covers.
‘That didn’t sound like a woman to me’ said another of one of the men with a long thick mono-brow.
‘She’s not been well’ insisted Antonio, ‘I suggest that you all leave. Whoever has denounced us has wasted your time.' Hermes froze under the bed covers and tried to stay as still as possible as he heard the men speak as the blood rushed through his ears.
‘We’re coming in’ said the original man pressing forward, ‘all complaints must be investigated.’
‘I tell you, you’re mistaken’ said Antonio blocking his way. But the men pushed past into the room and took in the surroundings.
‘Quite a lodging you have here’ said the mono-brow, whistling, as he took in the feminine accoutrements that Vincenza had assembled during her stay in Venice, ‘maybe a woman is staying here after all’ he said, as he eyed the bulge that lay in the bed.
‘Like I said: I’m here with my wife, and I insist you all leave’ urged Antonio who struggled to keep panic and anger out of his voice.
‘Then I'm sure she can speak for herself’ said the original man with a squint and a ridged face.
‘I told you she’s unwell’ said Antonio, as the mono-brow man moved closer to the bed where Hermes lay undercover and reached his hand to the corner of the bed sheets. Antonio moved toward the bed, but the leader blocked his way, ‘you would expose a woman’s honour?’ said Antonio, desperate, over the man’s shoulder.
‘I don’t think a woman of honour rents a room and lives in a style such as this’ said the mono-brow looking around, before he tore back the covers to reveal the brown skin of Hermes' naked body. He lay still and blank in a foetal position: unable to move. Antonio’s shoulders slumped when they revealed his lover.
‘Arrest them’ said the original man to the other two intruders who moved forward to block Antonio's potential escape: but they allowed him to finish dressing.
‘Put your clothes on’ said the mono-browed intruder to Hermes, who shook all over, but the man’s words were not harsh: because in truth he felt sorry for the youth that seemed crushed with shame. Soon the pair, once dressed, were then cuffed and led from their lodgings.
‘What’s going on?’ said Vincenza emerging, lose haired, into the passageway after hearing the commotion next door from h
er room, ‘where are you taking them? Unhand them at once’ she said raising her voice. Both young men could not look her in the eye and drooped like cut tulips.
‘I think you know where these two are going’ said the leader of the group to Vincenza after giving her a cursory look, ‘and I guess, no doubt, this is your room from where you do your business.' Vincenza flushed, and her lips shrank to a pucker,
‘You’re mistaken, Mr…?’
‘Giordano Ballotti’ came the leader’s forthright reply, a square-jawed man taller than average.
‘I’m a gentlewoman’ she said, but the other men tittered to themselves, ‘of the House of Gonzaga’ she added. The tittering stopped, ‘and I don’t need to sell my flesh to feed myself’ she declared with the clout of a high-born woman. ‘These men’, she continued, ‘are friends of mine, powerful friends, and I suggest you turn a blind eye on this occasion, gentlemen: for who knows where this could end?’
‘Indeed Signora…?’
‘Vincenza da Varrotti’ she said, and Giordano seemed to give a nod of recognition.
‘But sodomy is still a crime, be it an accusation or not’ he added, Hermes flashed Antonio a look as his lip began to tremble, ‘and the state must investigate every case: as you well know.' Antonio felt a twist in his stomach when it dawned on him who their accuser could be - he saw the fall, and then the sustained glares of Malvolio, with eyes like scarab beetles that dug into them all night. 'If they are innocent' Giordano continued, 'then others can vouch for their character.'
'I vouch for their character' hissed Vincenza, 'they were exhausted and broken after visiting a relative in prison. They just needed a bed for the night - his mother will cry with grief' she added with a gesture in Antonio's direction. Several looks passed between the men of The Office of the Night, but Giordano set his chin in such a way that could withstand an army.
'We cannot deny what we have already seen with our own eyes. Let’s go’ Giordano said to his men.
‘WAIT’ said Vincenza stepping forward, her voice trembling, before she glanced at Hermes and Antonio who looked shell-shocked by their situation. She reached into her silken robes to retrieve a bag of coins, ‘surely we can come to some kind of arrangement?’ she said with all the sagacity she could muster. The mono-brow and the two others moved forward, but Giordano raised his hand to stop their advance - they shrank back.
‘I’m still a man of the cloth, Signora.' Antonio clutched at his head, 'and I don’t accept bribes: God’s law is my law, and I will see to it that his will and that of the state are fulfilled’, and with that, the men stepped forward with their captives and marched off.
Antonio called back: ‘please contact my mother: ask my father when he awakes’ Vincenza nodded, her face riddled with concern. Hermes glanced back at Vincenza, and her heart sank at the sight of him: she had never seen such fear and despair in a youth his age before. The men led their captives downstairs, neither trying to escape or resist their arrest, before being taken outside and into the morning by the Office of the Night.
Chapter 9
Temptation’s Folly
Padua, mid-morning, Friday 28th of October 1611
Bianca exclaimed with a shriek that could have turned molten lava into stone when Dondo delivered the news. The letter bearer had returned and was at a loss to describe what had happened to his son. Illawara sat herself down at the table in Bianca’s Drawing room and covered her mouth when she heard what Dondo had to say. Grizelda looked equally shocked as the others and gasped with surprise. It had been five days since the household had seen Antonio and Hermes leave Saint Anthony’s, or heard anything about their whereabouts - and Bianca had begun to fret after the first.
‘My son ruined!’ sobbed Bianca, ‘and even worse than his mother’ she said as she wrung her veined hands, ‘a brother in jail and now a son too. Oh, LORD! Why do you test me so?’ Dondo had poured out a glass of Orzo that he had prepared in advance before he dealt his message, but Bianca ignored it, ‘days of silence, and then to learn this. I felt it, you know? I felt it in my womb' she declared, 'the child I bore: now in danger.' Bianca could not rest, and fretted and fussed about the place, pale and distracted. 'I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it’ she said, clutching her face. She then collapsed into her chair and howled with abandon as if her son were declared dead.
Illawara eyed the mistress of the house with alarm before she spoke:
‘Are you sure then, Dondo, that they’re in the Doge’s prison?’ She said trying to stay calm. Dondo nodded, ‘then we must try to get them out.'
‘His father and his friend are working on it’ replied Dondo.
‘His father?’ said Bianca, halting mid-flow, before wiping away tears from a face drained of colour. Dondo turned to face his mistress.
‘I meant to tell you, Bianca, but it was Antonio’s father that delivered the news of your brother to me by letter days ago.' Bianca clutched at her bosom that began to pant like two caged partridges within her bodice.
‘Giovanni intercedes to aid his son?’ she said dazzled, using the first name of her son's father rather than the middle which she preferred. ‘Oh, thank GOD.' Illawara observed Bianca flush with excitement, ‘what does he suggest we do?’ she added.
‘He suggests that we raise funds. He and his friend think there are people within the watch that can be bribed to change their statements or even the prosecutors. If so, we may be able to avoid a trial.’
‘A trial?’ interjected Illawara, ‘for two men sharing a bed?’ she said incredulous,
‘I know’ said Dondo with a shrug, ‘in my day few blinked an eye at it, and some were even encouraged if it helped the family - as long as the young man married, of course: but now the state is set against it.’
‘Hypocrites’ hissed Grizelda, ‘there’s not a man in Venice, or a cloister, who’s not done it’ Bianca took in a breath, ‘or on the galley ships - as far as you’ve told me' added the maid with a swipe towards the old seafarer.
‘Indeed, tis true’ said Dondo with a distant nod, but Bianca looked appalled.
‘But sin is SIN’ she exclaimed, with a gesture of indignation before crossing herself, ‘and Grizelda, I’m SHOCKED at you: how could you know of such things? Let alone think Antonio would dabble in the ways that you imply.’ Illawara and the maid rolled their eyes - their first agreement of sorts since the preceding weeks.
‘Remember’ said the maid with a tilt of her head, ‘I had a brother who apprenticed to the shipyards: and he would tell me everything that went on there.’
‘Oh’ said Bianca with mock surprise, ‘was that the one who died of the French Disease? My son is not one of those sorts - the charges are falsehoods against him.' Grizelda’s face stung with the rebuke, and her lips crumpled into lines of shame and anger.
‘Not every youth can refuse his master’ said Dondo, sullen-faced. Bianca fanned herself as Grizelda stared icicles at her mistress. Illawara looked at both women but felt Bianca had wronged Grizelda with her comments. A silence fell upon the group.
‘So, who’s this friend of Giovanni’s helping our cause?’ said the mistress in genuine curiosity, and an effort to change the subject.
‘I don’t know’ Dondo lied, ‘but the person is well connected.' Bianca scanned Dondo’s face to read him, tight-lipped, as her eyes tested and prodded him - he could never hide from her - but she avoided her maid’s hard stare as she fanned herself. In moments Bianca pierced Dondo's veil of silence and drank the truth from his mind like a vampire. She gave out a long grunt:
‘Probably some tramp he picked up on the Rialto’, she declared, but Illawara frowned at the comment: one like so many that had emerged from Bianca’s mouth over the preceding days.
‘Bianca, I know you’re a woman of faith’ said Illawara, ‘but given how you arrived at your situation is it fair for you to judge?’ The mistress stopped fanning herself to turn, like a block of lead, in the young woman’s direction.
‘You dare judge me?’ She
rasped with her eyebrows in danger of lifting off her plucked forehead. Dondo and Grizelda took a step back. ‘Ungrateful wench. You who arrived here with barely a stitch to stand in, and smelling like a day labourer: dare criticise the mistress that has washed, clothed and fed you as one of her own.' Illawara chewed her lip. 'I’ll not stand such haughty pronouncements from a girl that barely knows the ways of the world.' Illawara shrank back into her chair and bowed her head. She missed the look of triumph that flashed in Grizelda’s eyes.
‘Ladies, LADIES’ flapped Dondo exasperated, ‘will there be no peace among you? Not a day goes by without some bickering of some sort, while our youths waste away in jail.' Dondo’s words seemed to chafe at Bianca, and she straightened her back before she spoke:
‘I’ll remind you, Dondo, that it is I that am mistress of this house’ she said, and postured in such a way to eyeball everyone. She then gave out a delicate cough before she continued: ‘but given the situation, we find ourselves in, I forgive your impertinence.' With her back as straight as a rod in her chair, she then looked at Illawara, and then Grizelda by flicking her eyes side to side. All present felt the cogs of Bianca's mind turn. She then focused her attention back on Dondo. ‘Your news, although shocking, has only confirmed my worst fears for my son, and I will do whatever it takes to help him: and, in this hour of desperation I’ve come up with a plan.' Everyone looked in her direction and wondered what their mistress had cooked up in her brain. ‘As you are all aware I have prayed, tirelessly, and at great length, to Our Lady of Good Remedy, the Queen of heaven, to intercede on our behalf.' All present nodded for none could escape Bianca's prayers. 'With her great wisdom, I now see what's to be done to remedy this doubly bad situation.' The others waited for Bianca to continue, knowing it unwise to interrupt her when she was in her flow. The mistress of the house braced herself by seizing the armrests of her chair and took in a rasping breath of such force that it clenched her nostrils. ‘It will have escaped none of your ears and eyes that Illawara has received significant attention at church.' Illawara slowly turned her head towards the mistress with a curdled look of curiosity and reproach. Bianca ignored her protégé. 'I’m told, by all that can walk that in a few short weeks attendance is up at the services - everyone has noticed it. Dare say, your attendance at church is highly anticipated' she said in her guest's direction. Illawara baulked with surprise.
Beyond the Raging Flames (The Hermeporta Book 2) Page 12