But Antonio shook his head.
'Some things are reliable. If there's one thing I know about Orsini is that he'll move mountains to get what he wants. Chase anyone or anything down until he got to the bottom of it. He’s relentless. When I was at court, I used to hate him for it. He always knew everything about my life, whatever I did he found out about it.' Hermes shrugged, not sure where Antonio was taking his argument. 'But if he were my father, he could have moved mountains for me. He would be relentless to give me advantages, and tireless for me to succeed. My life would be different.'
'I see' said Hermes looking at the reflective Antonio who strummed his beard and looked off into the distance.
'I think Orsini would do anything for Illawara' he added, coming back to himself, 'and I also suspect, he got the Earl, no, the Professor, you say, to help him change… to do all of those things he did to help him win her.’ Hermes nodded.
‘He must have because Orsini used the Mystify and, of course, that could have only come from the Professor. The Professor also has something that can change one thing into another - I think that's how he got the flying horse?' Hermes sprang up alert. 'Your mother said the Professor came back here for his case. Orsini already saw Illawara once, which means if he came back he could have been nearby when Illawara was arrested. He may not have been able to stop the Inquisition, but he must have talked to the Professor that day and convinced him to help him?' The youth's face then clouded. 'Besides, where did you go earlier before they tried to burn Illawara today?’
Antonio then bolted upright.
‘His Henchman’ he cried, hoping to deflect the aim of the question. Hermes wriggled with disgust.
‘You went to see Orsini's Henchman? You know where he lives? The man looks like a phantom.'
'Yes, he does' said Antonio, 'I don't know where he lives, but I bumped into him earlier - he threatened me with his dagger.' Hermes shuddered.
'He's vile, he's like a bloodless monster that's capable of anything.’ A flash of recognition came to Hermes’ eyes. 'Wait, of course,' he said, 'if there is one thing I know about the Professor is that he likes to do things his own way, he's very secretive, and he doesn't like to share or collaborate.' Hermes mused in silence for a while. 'I think that's why Iona left him.'
'Iona?' Antonio's brow curled upwards. Hermes thought he would trade a little gossip.
'Yes, she's a woman he used to be with, they were engaged, but he never married her, and he shut her out of his research because she didn't support what he was doing.'
'Is that so?'
'Yes, so she left him.'
'Is that what women do in the future?' said Antonio, his face pensive, 'leave you if you disappoint them?' Hermes shrugged.
'Yes, I suppose they do - but then I wouldn't know, would I?' he replied, smiling. Antonio slipped into thought as if weighing up some significant choice in his mind. 'But Iona's not my point, sorry, I got off track' Hermes continued, shaking his head. 'My point is, the more I think about it the Professor would not help Orsini unless he had to - and he only came back here because was very ill - I think Orsini and the Henchman took him by force, probably soon after the Inquisition took Illawara?' Antonio nodded.
'That would make sense. He was sick; Mother said he looked yellow and that he had the Pox. So, he came for his case which must also have contained some medicine.’ Antonio wanted to kick himself for not being more curious. A knot of hope writhed again in his stomach. ‘If he's very ill he can't have gone far, which means Orsini and Illawara could be with him too: maybe they could all be together not far from here?' He became refreshed and alive. ‘But for you, it's going to be difficult to get Illawara away from Orsini.’
'I have to' said Hermes, 'We've spent enough time here, there's so much I have to tell her, and it's time for us to go.' Antonio looked at Hermes, his unusual companion, and entertained the exciting possibilities for a moment before ruling them out of his mind. He had experienced enough danger and discomfort for his lifetime, and only saw much more of it if he stayed close with Hermes.
Better to let things go he thought as Hermes thanked him as much as he could for his support, saying he was glad to have Antonio by his side.
The pair made ready to leave. Bianca, Dondo and Grizelda were still sleepy, groggy and incoherent: only fit to stay where they were.
'They'll be alright' Antonio said to Hermes, 'please wait for me outside.' He obeyed, and Antonio made sure to transfer his legitimacy documents into a small bag - with an inkwell and quill before the pair left to go out and search the streets.
◆◆◆
The streets of Padua were abuzz with activity and speculation by the time Hermes and Antonio began their search. The accounts of the people that had come to see Illawara’s burning were varied and often wild: with some people remembering some details, and yet more others. Many people lay about slumped everywhere, some face down in the dirt, or clutching at their heads as if intoxicated. Everyone that managed to escape the pink smoke was talking, picking up friends, associates, or loved ones and then gathering in informal groups to exchange information. Hermes and Antonio paused to listen to two vegetable sellers that had just returned to their abandoned stalls with members of their family.
‘It was a white horse I tell you, with huge wings’ exclaimed one vegetable merchant to another, while holding up his wife. ‘It came with a screeching whinny that cut the air till everyone covered their ears, and it didn’t stop until everyone knelt and prayed - I saw the pink smoke, but my wife did not escape it.’ The man held up is floppy wife. His fellow merchant huffed and flicked his hands at the other man, as his teenaged son yawned and rubbed his eyes.
'What happened Papa? Why are we on the street?' The youth said. The man pressed his son close to his chest before covering his son's ears.
‘No, I tell you, it was a white dragon, sent from hell to collect its quarry here on Earth… as the Devil comes to collect all who belong to him’ said the other in a stage whisper, before making a gesture of enormity, sure in his mind of what he had seen. He then uncovered his son's ears. The men bickered with each other over the details as a customer, untouched by the smoke, waited to be served. The woman shook her head, but, hearing their talk, she could not keep herself out of the conversation.
‘Well’ she piped up, ‘your friend is quite right, but that was not all of it. My mistress told me, for she had stood near the gates, that there was an angel sat upon that winged horse that came down to save the girl, and he dampened her with a mighty shower from God and his Holy Spirit. He then rose in assumption with her, like Mary, upon a pink cloud. She said it was a miracle.' The merchant with his son looked at the woman and laughed. ‘Tis true’ the maid protested. The merchant pulled a face.
'God would not send an angel to save a witch, and it was said that she had confessed to her crimes.' The maid put her hands on her hips.
‘Is Mary not the mother of Jesus? It was not a dragon or the Devil that came for her. What a foolish thing to say. And shame on you to contradict the good word of my mistress. My mistress is a fine woman that is too good to lie - she shares all that she knows with me - and not once has she erred. She made haste from the cloud when she saw those that fell asleep in it. She said were it not for her veil and her light step she would have been overcome like the others.’ Both men exchanged glances with one another.
'You see' said the other, still holding up his wife, 'this woman confirms what I said and more, and it seems the Lord brought a cloud to make the people sleep: lest the glory of his angel be too much for the people, and they die of awe and wonder.' His fellow merchant pondered the words he heard in silence.
‘Yes, I'm sure it is the case, in his great wisdom. Amen’ she said. The maid crossed herself and then gestured to the display, 'five turnips, please’ she asked in brusque fashion. ‘I have a restorative stew to make for my mistress - for she's laid quite low with shock.’ And with that, she paid and left.
All this and many other
conversations Hermes and Antonio heard as they walked around. They could see that some people were unsteady on their feet as they progressed with an air of confusion, unable to quite recollect the day’s events. The bonfire had reduced to a blackened heap, so there was no doubt there had been a fire. Those that were close to it could not remember, and those that did were hard to believe. The local authorities were in a state of turmoil and wondering how best to handle a situation, where it seemed, by many accounts, that an angel had rescued a convicted witch. It seemed God had intervened on the convict's side.
Every effort had begun to quash the most outrageous of the rumours and stifle any words that may leak back to the Vatican: less there be questions about the divine authority of the Pontiff. Already some heard the word that people were scavenging the charred bonfire looking for Illawara’s bones. The local Inquisition, afraid of the repercussions from Rome, did their best to put about that she had died, consumed whole, in flames and had her soul dragged to hell.
‘If you say Illawara could be near’ said Hermes, while shaking his head at some of the accounts he heard from passers-by, ‘then Orsini would have to have landed his horse somewhere, without being seen.’
‘He could have landed in the middle of the fruit market at noon and not be seen, for it seemed all of Padua had gathered to the marshes today’ said Antonio. Hermes remembered his former self and knew that any creature that flies likes to have a perch.
‘What I’m saying is that even a horse with wings has to land somewhere. It has four legs, not two. It can’t rest on a branch in a tree can it?’ Antonio almost laughed at Hermes observation before his eyes then gaped wide.
‘You’re right’ he said, before then whispering to Hermes, ‘horses like to rest on flat ground, but there is only one sort of ground that is flat high up.’ Hermes shrugged, ‘a terrace’ said Antonio with a gleam in his eye.
‘But are there lots of them in this city?’ said Hermes scanning the rooftops for evidence. Antonio smiled.
‘There are some, but not many. I’ve given many tours of this city. I know all the places now that have them. It will take some time, but I’m sure we can find the right one.’ Antonio beamed at his mental deductions and felt a perceived dead-end open up, bringing himself another step closer to getting his papers signed as he and Hermes began to survey the city.
◆◆◆
After making the crossing to Venice, getting ready for their departure to Poveglia was proving an ordeal for Lucia and the Professor. Even with an extra injection of penicillin, the Professor still struggled with weakness - he could not carry much as the pair tried to hurry along. All relevant belongings to the pair, including the Soul-lanterns, had to be gathered and collected from their respective rooms. They paid up for their lodgings and bought the ceremonial ingredients and provisions they needed at the Venice market - or sourced extras from clandestine suppliers and sellers at the fringes of Venice. The crowds were unbearable and frenzied so close to Christmas. The pair had wrapped and packaged their cargo against damp and cold, and destroyed or abandoned unneeded items to hide their trails. The discussing of ceremonial techniques for the Hermeporta, in a quiet tavern, and sourcing all that they needed had taken most of the day in of itself. When the pair were ready, and tired of traipsing about, almost all the Gondoliers refused their request to travel to the frightening island of Poveglia - far off into the lagoon. It seemed as if the Gondoliers sensed from the pair that they were as sinister as their destination: the Professor’s looks did not help.
‘I look like shit’ he said to Lucia as they stood at the banks of the Grand Canal, 'that's why the Gondoliers won't to stop for us, let alone take us to Poveglia.' Lucia tilted her head as if to say it was his own fault, but held her tongue. She took a deep breath to try and relax her shoulders in the foggy chill that crept over Venice. Small patches of ice had begun to form on the lagoon.
After countless refusals, the Professor shook his head in despair. 'Maybe we can hire a boat and row ourselves there?' Lucia grimaced.
'It's a long way' she said, 'and you're not fit for much in your current condition: I doubt I could row us all the way there.' The Professor's shoulders slumped. Lucia was right, and he cursed his misfortune under his breath. Then, through the mist, he saw a gondola draped with bright, colourful fabrics rowed by a man that seemed like a shadow in the fog.
The Professor's heart lifted as he hollered across the water and flagged the man down. It took him some time to arrive as he paddled his way from the other side of the Grand Canal. Raven arrived through the mist and paddled himself and his gondola up alongside the pair. Raven's usual bright smile showed some stiffness at the corners, taking in the sight of the Professor, and he cast his eyes over Lucia with some caution, but he warmed after greeting the pair: ever the professional. The Professor and Lucia stood at the waterfront, like refugees to fortune, with all their belongings. After an exchange of niceties, it did not take long for the Professor to put in his request. The Gondolier hesitated.
'The men say terrible things about the place' said Raven, 'they say the island is full of ghosts and suffering, stuffed with dead bodies, and that the waters around the place are cursed.'
Lucia exchanged glances with the Professor, knowing from experience the Gondolier had accurate information.
The Professor gave every assurance he could, and so did Lucia, although she understood the other Gondoliers had good reasons to fear their request. Lucia and the Professor offered double what it would have cost to take them that far. After much coercion and pleading from the Professor, Raven agreed - his fare feeling more like a bribe. Winston was his first customer, and he was grateful to him. Lucia and the Professor bundled on board with their chests, boxes and packages wrapped in paper and string.
Before long Raven's paddling had taken them beyond the sights of the Grand Canal. Onward they went far, far into the lagoon’s frosty grey waters in the deepening winter cold. Even with the Gondolier’s strength and speed, the journey took much time.
Raven lit his lanterns to see better, during a dreary sunset blighted by clouds and choked with fog. Lucia continued to guide the way past strange and eerie islands with twisted trees and abandoned buildings.
The last light of the departed sun squatted on the horizon with a muddy glow before twilight. The water surrounded them like a liquid prison, silent and yet knowing as if the lagoon understood her passengers wished to discover her most dreadful secrets as they journeyed further into the taboo. As they progressed Raven’s fear increased as he paddled his passengers closer to the ruined island of Poveglia: its forlorn presence drawing closer into view in the dying light.
The Professor swore out loud when he saw the island at close hand. He clutched his fist to his chest.
‘This place is a ghastly ruin’ he said to Lucia, as he took in the ghoulish feel of the place. The remains of San Vidal church looked like bombed out ruins jutting up from the island - dark blocks of shattered glass and stone silhouetted against a starless sky. Winston's blistered skin shuddered. Lucia gave him an ironic look. The Professor looked little better than the shoreline, and the rest of the island’s contents.
The slight wind that had blown in their faces as Raven paddled the lagoon then slowed to a ghostly calm as they approached: the sloshing of the paddle through the water the only sound. The island looked dead, the vegetation that clung to existence on the shore and rocks seemed tired and wasted - as if in limbo and wishing for its end. Raven looked petrified of the place; as the yellow lamplight caught the whites of his eyes. The Professor did not want to get off the boat, as it slid to a stop at the shoreline.
‘This is the place’ said Lucia, unfazed, ‘there'll be plenty of work for us to do’ she added, before she splashed out of the vessel, and offered her arms to the Professor. Winston hesitated and became cross with himself for not feeling manly. ‘Please stay with us for a while’ said Lucia, to Raven, ‘we may need to return to the mainland.’ The Gondolier did not utter a word
, his eyes jutting like billiard balls against his dark skin. Lucia then gave Raven his promised fare. ‘We’ll pay you more to stay a while’ she added, and he gave a twitching nod, but said he would not leave his boat. Lucia twitched her hands with encouragement, and the Professor disembarked into her strong arms with a splash. With her aid, he walked further on with caution - sensing that every frosted step he took was a footprint upon a record of death.
The abandoned church that Lucia had visited in spirit felt, in the flesh, even more like a place of damnation, desolation and ruin. Her flesh crept as the pair approached the side of San Vidal church. Lucia propped the Professor upon her shoulder. They then saw the rusted lock and chain on the doors that barred their entry - once so easy for Lucia to breach. It took several minutes for Lucia to smash the lock off with a rock. The Professor stepped forward to use what strength he had to try and push the rusted doors open. Lucia watched his cry of effort as the doors moved but a short way. He then panted doubled over. Lucia then shoved hard, by herself, and the doors creaked open.
‘Don’t exhaust yourself to impress me’ she said, ‘I know you’re a strong man, but you’re still weak from sickness.’ The Professor said nothing, his lips clenched, before he returned to the gondola and, faltering, tried to carry as much as he could back into the church. Lucia sighed and shook her head.
The pair, with time and effort, did all that could be done to prepare the Hermeporta that lay hidden under the church. Incantations were said, incense burned, large scented candles lit, and ceremonies were performed to ready the area and device as best they could.
The Professor agreed with Lucia that it looked like an early Roman construction long before the Venetians began to colonise the lagoon and one used a great deal. Those dying from disease would have provided a plentiful supply of bodies for the Hermeporta. Together they pondered how many people had travelled through time, and influenced the world without the rest of humanity knowing. The Professor and Lucia speculated on their journey that lay ahead, and he informed Lucia of yet more of his vision, and how he wished to set about his plans.
Beyond the Raging Flames (The Hermeporta Book 2) Page 41