‘NO! I’m not like that.’
‘Many are’ she said, with a shrug.
‘I know that - I don’t care - but it’s not for me.’
‘Who then?’
‘I don’t know?’ he gestured, rubbing his forehead to search his mind. Then he saw Giaconda's clothes fall to the floor to reveal her naked body. He froze. Lucia read him in an instant:
‘Your memory serves you’ she said, ‘who is it?’ Winston closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
‘Somebody’s wife...’ he sighed. The Professor had some touching flirtations with some other women in the previous days but nothing more sexual than that. He ran his hands down his face and let his arms fall limp.
Lucia sighed, and the Professor reached down to pull his stockings back up. Although he was not her lover, she was surprised that he had been part of an affair. Her mind turned over, and she thought of the Professor’s recent commission.
‘It wasn’t the jeweller's wife was it?’ His eyes flashed, but he then nodded. Lucia touched her brow before she shook her head. ‘I know her’ she said, ‘Giaconda - I think?' The Professor swallowed.
'Yes, that's correct' She shook her head.
'A dear friend told me once that she’s one of the grandest whores of Venice.’ Winston covered his mouth; his eyes started to water. He acknowledged what she said and felt sick. Lucia frowned and shook her head again. ‘Her husband's rich, she doesn't do it for the money, but I’m told she’s always at the docks by the Arsenale’ she said, ‘she hides her face, but everyone knows who she is. Her son works there. Her husband may be a jeweller, but her tastes are unrefined.’ The Professor sat on his bed and wrangled at his stupidity: Giaconda had been too good, too seductive, too worldly: although he found that sexy in a woman.
‘Levin must know’ he said defeated, ‘she’s not poor. She has a husband. Why does she do it?’ Lucia made a drooping gesture with her little finger.
‘Oh… I see.’
‘And she’s good for trade - so I hear. Many envy her: she can sell gems just as well as herself' she added with a wry tilt of the head. The Professor uttered a sound of tortured anguish.
‘Can you help me?’ he said, his voice catching in his throat, but Lucia grimaced.
‘I want to help you’ She urged, her face stricken with concern, ‘but the herbs that I’ve cured others with before only grow in the summer, and…’ she hesitated, ‘you may not last that long.’ Winston tugged at his silver hair and clenched his fists. Lucia reached forward to comfort him but drew back. ‘I’ve some dried herbs back in Arcetri, but as you know, I cannot return there.’ He nodded and rubbed his face as if sand covered it. His eyes became wild as he began to panic. He struggled to remember how people tried to cure the disease in the current times, but his brain drew blanks, and all he could think about was Mercury. He cursed his ignorance. The Professor ransacked his mind.
‘They say Quicksilver works’ he added, unable to think of anything else.
‘It can, but it’s poisonous’ said Lucia, ‘and I don’t use it for my cures.’
‘You know that? So how did you cure others?’
Lucia shook her head and tutted. ‘That’s a secret I can’t share that with you, but I’ve seen the mercury kill more than the Pox.’ Lucia raiser her finger into the air, ‘did not the Romans send their criminals to dig the Cinnabar mines, and thus quarry their own punishment and death?’
Winston shrugged.
‘I’d no idea. How do you know that?’
‘Works of Latin are not beyond me’ she added, as if it should have been obvious to the Professor. ‘Did you bring nothing with you from your time?’ She said, ‘coming from where you come from: and knowing what you know.’ A light exploded in Winston's mind.
‘My case!’ he shouted, ‘I’ve medicine in my case!’ The Professor almost thanked God for his own forethought and chastised himself for not remembering earlier. ‘I’ve been an idiot: how could I forget such a thing? Foolish, foolish man’ he exclaimed, almost with joy.
‘Where is it?’ said Lucia, scanning the room with excitement, 'did you get it back?' But then the Professor’s face fell.
‘It has to be with Illawara’ he said as if contemplating her seriously for the first time, ‘she must have it, or at least I hope she does.’
He then thought of the complexity of trying to get his case back, which had already inconvenienced him by its absence. The Professor paced about the room. ‘I don’t know where she is. She could be near. But I don’t know what happened to her after Florence.’
‘I can find her for you’ said Lucia, matter of fact, ‘I must go back to my lodgings first, but I can use my ball.’ The Professor became animated and alert.
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’ve not been able to think’ he said, breathless, like a man spared the gallows. ‘How long do I have before things get worse?’ He did not know what exact symptoms to expect, but understood that seventeenth-century Syphilis could be horrific compared to modern day incarnations. She looked worried.
‘You’re getting quite far along already, but you’re strong. But if you think you have a cure it could save your life’ she said, ‘and then spare you what’s to come.’ The Professor bit his lips and nodded, knowing Lucia, in her experience, spoke the truth about such matters. ‘What is your medicine?’ she asked. He hesitated.
‘That’s a secret I can’t share with you’ he said echoing her words. She gave a wry nod and did not question him further.
The Professor had packed syringes and penicillin for wound infections, almost as an afterthought, or, in one extreme of his imagination, to perform dramatic cures on people and be hailed a saint or miracle worker - even though he did not believe in such things. He realised that without his case and medicine, disfigurement and death were near certain. After listening to a hasty account of Lucia’s adventures to and from Madagascar, and looking at her catch of Golden Orb spiders, the Professor urged Lucia to return to her lodgings to find her ball and help locate Illawara. As promised she gave him her spare spiders, and kept hers. She gave him the required dream catchers, and kept her share along with her three Soul-lanterns, returning the others, before she left to go back to her rented lodgings.
◆◆◆
Lucia ventured back to her rented lodgings, the Farro Tavern, in the San Samuele area that she had not stayed in for almost two weeks. She had returned to the tavern just before seeing the Professor, in the early morning, to hand back the broom she had borrowed from the scullery maid, but, keen to save time, had not ventured up to her room. The maid’s smile had been uneasy as if she had more to say. But she had greeted her and left before the maid could unburden herself.
Lucia knocked on the main door. She waited a while before she heard footsteps. The maid opened the door with a sheepish smile and an awkward expression in her eyes:
‘So, you’re back then’ said a sarcastic voice from within the tavern. A middle-aged woman, dressed better than average, stood at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed, and a bunch of keys slung about her waist. The maid deserted the doorway and made busy with her broom nearby.
‘Well, yes, of course’ she said, not liking the landlady’s tone. ‘I got delayed with my business - as I mentioned earlier to Maria.’ Lucia tried to catch the maid’s eye, who turned from her with a fearful expression and swept, with aimless intent, at the floor. The landlady uncrossed her arms to clutch the bannister and touched the opposite wall to barricade the stairs to the upper rooms.
‘Yes - she mentioned it’ said the landlady unamused, ‘I’m sure that you’re aware that I charge by the day for my services.’ The two women glared at each other. Lucia smiled with feigned sweetness.
‘Yes, I’m aware of that Madam, but I did pay for a whole week upfront.’
‘You’re now overdue’ said the landlady crossing her arms again, and walking towards Lucia. Her hard-lined features looked wooden in the grey light.
‘By just a few days’ said Lu
cia, calculating in her mind, ‘are you so pressed?’
‘Times are hard, my dear.’
The woman stood in front of Lucia to block her way, ‘there is much want in this world.’ She looked her up and down before she stuck out her palm. Lucia wanted to spit in it.
‘Surely we can settle once I collect my things’ she said. The landlady gave a smile as if she did not need Lucia's money.
‘Collect your belongings’ she said and stepped aside. Lucia cut the woman a dirty look: she never liked the landlady but had not expected to in this district. Lucia rummaged for her key as she ascended the steps, and the maid looked on, and waited, with foreboding: anticipating what was sure to come.
Lucia, uneasy, turned the key in the lock and entered her room. It looked much as she had left it, and her shoulders relaxed. She took the key from the lock and closed the door behind her. She did not have much, just a change of clothes and the items she arrived with after Arcetri. She could see that the room was tidy - Maria, was honest in her work - and all looked to be as it should. Lucia put her basket down and unlocked the room’s wooden lock-case, still screwed to the floor. She pulled away the rags in search of her crystal ball, unguent, and her small box wrapped in a starred cloth. The unguent laid there, but the other items were missing. A shock struck her. She bolted upright, in an instant, and thought of the landlady.
Lucia's expression hardened, and her eyes narrowed to pin-pricks. Adrenalin coursed through her and upset her breathing. With less than a moment’s thought, Lucia crouched back down to open the lid of her unguent, scoop up some of the waxy substance with her finger, and rubbed the mixture into her hands. Her warm palms melted the wax into an oil and grew strong. She then rubbed the excess liquid upon her neck like perfume as she felt power coil through her body. Her skin took on an extra glow, but her expression grew darker than the skies outside. She closed the jar, returning it before she shut the lid of the lock-box. Lucia stood again, a fire rising within her, and walked with strident grace to leave her room and close the door behind her.
Maria heard Lucia’s footsteps upon the stairs, from where she stood and tried to stay calm as she dusted the side boards of the shared living room: the landlady liked to make a show of her maid’s cleaning to uplift the status of her establishment.
Maria glanced over to her mistress that chatted with several guests in the living room when Lucia walked in.
‘Where are my things?’ declared Lucia. The conversation died, and the landlady spun round to give Lucia a look of contempt.
‘Where you left them, I imagine’ she said, with a cocked brow. Everyone stared Lucia’s way: three women sat at a table, with pockmarked faces, and one pot-bellied man that drank wine from a glass, although midday had yet to arrive. Lucia glared at her:
‘Do not trifle with me. I ask you again’ she said, her voice rasping and fierce. ‘Where - are - MY - things?’ Maria felt her heart cringe.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ came the haughty reply. The others stared at Lucia as if she were a madwoman. She glared at the other guests and began to mutter some words in a language none could understand. She stroked her hand through the air in the direction of the group, and they drooped into sleep: two of the women fell back in their chairs unconscious, slack-jawed to the air, and the other slid face down upon the table. The red wine the man held spilt over him, as he slumped, and his glass tumbled to the floor. Maria’s mouth dropped open, but the hardened landlady did not seem surprised.
‘It’ll cost you’ she said, once confident her guests were deaf to the world. Lucia wanted to break her neck, but instead, she glared the woman in the face, walked forward, and then tore the bunch of keys from her waist which snapped her girdle cord - its beads scattering to the floor. The woman seemed surprised by Lucia’s speed.
‘Lock all the doors’ Lucia hissed, extending her outstretched arm behind her in Maria’s direction. The maid hesitated, ‘DO IT’ Lucia yelled. And the startled maid then rushed forward to snatch the keys and do her bidding. The Landlady swallowed hard but stood defiant.
‘That cord was expensive. You’ll have to pay for that too: WITCH.’ Lucia gritted her teeth. ‘I’ve handled your sort before’ the landlady smirked as if seasoned in such things.
‘I’m not to be toyed with’ said Lucia, ‘if you value your life tell me where my things are, and we can forget this.' The landlady swaggered.
‘Like I said. It will COST you’ she added in a mocking tone, ‘do you think you can hide that you’re a wealthy woman around here? I’ve heard you’ve helped others, and so you can help me too.’ Lucia looked at the landlady as if she were excrement.
‘You cheap rat’ she scolded, ‘you could have just asked, but now I wouldn’t give you a Carlino to buy a crust of bread - even if you were starved to ribs and spindles.’ The landlady’s face soured.
‘Burn then’ she declared, before yanking a crucifix from her cleavage and whipping a vial of holy water from her pocket. She began to encircle Lucia and sprinkled her, and the floor, with the liquid brandishing the crucifix as if it were a splinter from The True Cross. Lucia bulged her eyes and began to give out theatrical wails, and wrung her hands as if gripped by terror and stabbed with pains as the woman splashed at her. ‘By the power of almighty God I bind thee’ the landlady said, ‘I bind thee’ she said twice more. A look of victory glinted in the landlady’s face as she continued her incantations: convinced of her power. Lucia continued to screech for a few moments more - cowering as if doused with acid.
The landlady laughed as she sprinkled Lucia with Holy water. Then Lucia stopped her wailing. She stood erect. A vein rose in her neck. She looked at the craven expression on the woman’s face with her crucifix outstretched. Lucia struck her so hard across the jaw that the landlady lost two teeth. She crashed backwards.
Lucia’s arm had moved with the speed of a flash before the clap of sound filled the room. The landlady lay on the floor shell-shocked: her mouth bloody and torn.
‘Do you think such things can work with me?’ Hissed Lucia outraged, walking towards the woman who struggled to rise from the floor. ‘Do you think me some common witch with petty fears that can be bound by such things?’ Lucia's voice was venomous and charged with rage. She reached down to snatch the woman by the hair and twisted her fist until the landlady howled. Maria returned to watch from the doorway, transfixed, as she saw her mistress start to get her comeuppance. Lucia yanked the woman up from the floor as if she were a leather satchel. The guests in the room, dumb with sleep, did not stir with the commotion.
‘Tell me where my box and ball is and I’ll spare your life’ growled Lucia.
‘Mercy!’ cried the woman, spluttering blood, ‘Ow, ow, argh! I'm sorry that I’ve offended thee.’ The Landlady clutched at Lucia’s hands to try and loosen her grip, but Lucia held on vice-like with no intention of letting go. She twisted again, tearing some hair. ‘Uaargh! Please, please. Have mercy I beg you.’ Lucia clenched her fist till the woman gurgled with pain.
‘Where are my ball and box?’ she said, implacable.
‘In the cellar. Mercy, please, I beg you.’ Lucia ignored the woman’s howling pleas and dragged her out of the room.
‘Show me’ said Lucia to the maid who nodded and scrambled ahead to lead the way. The landlady squirmed under her grip, but she could not free herself. Lucia made a point of dragging her down the stairs faster than she could walk in her awkward position, and she lost her footing as her knees thudded upon the steps.
The cellar smelled damp, being nearer the canal waters, and Lucia threw the woman into the room once Maria had unlocked the cellar door. The landlady tumbled into a heap upon the floor. ‘Mercy, PLEASE’ she cried again, ‘I’ve much offended thee. Forgive me, oh mighty one’ she implored, prostrate, with her hands clasped as if in prayer, ‘we are desperate - much in need’ she quivered. Lucia ignored her.
‘Where are my things?’ said Lucia to the maid. Maria rushed forward into a corner an
d fumbled with the keys, dropping them, before she snatched them up again to unlock a cupboard. Within sat Lucia's crystal ball upon its black velvet cushion, and her small box wrapped in starred fabric. Maria moved to fetch them up: ‘don’t touch them’ Lucia spat, and Maria froze. The items lifted of their own accord, soft into the air, and returned into Lucia’s embrace where she cradled them before she placed them on a table next to her. Maria and the Landlady looked on in amazement. ‘Did you help her do this?’ said Lucia to the maid. Maria hesitated, before glancing at her mistress and nodded.
‘I didn’t want to’ she said, shamefaced.
‘But have you helped her swindle others before me?’ Maria nodded again and began to weep: fearing her punishment. The landlady looked at Lucia, and Maria, as if she were making some choice between herself and the maid. She sensed danger.
‘She’s wicked!’ exclaimed the landlady, frantic, pointing her finger to turn on Maria, ‘it’s SHE that makes the plans: I only protect her out of pity’ she implored. Maria’s face stung with shock while she watched, with disgust, as the landlady, a jumble of words, grovelled and crawled towards Lucia.
‘Silence. Stop your snivelling’ Lucia said to the woman to halt her crawl across the floor. Lucia’s skin began to illuminate the dim cellar as her passion intensified. ‘I’d sooner trust a murderer, than a worthless money grubber like yourself’ she spat, ‘and you’ll happily see a woman burn if she didn’t fill your pockets first: you disgust me.'
Acting like a guilty dog chastised for offending, the landlady paused her grovelling, her breath halted with hands clasped, while the whites of her eyes shifted between Lucia and Maria. She lay on the floor as if waiting.
‘Why do you help her?’ Asked Lucia in a softened voice to the maid. Maria swallowed hard, but she looked her in her fierce glittering eyes and hid nothing in her heart.
‘I have many children…’ she said, hesitating, before looking down ‘and no husband.’ Lucia looked deep into her, and the pair stood motionless for a while.
Beyond the Raging Flames (The Hermeporta Book 2) Page 25