The Vault of Bones

by Pip Vaughan-Hughes

'Indeed? I am sure that Messer Querini, one of this Republic's most honoured lords, would have mentioned such a thing to this council’ said the Doge, watching me carefully. Your slander is wearisome, but happily we will not have to suffer it any longer.' I tried to keep my face impassive, but in truth it was another terrible blow. I saw now that I must be doomed, for my word counted for nothing against that of Querini, and I would be dead long before anything I said could be proved. And yet still that seed of hope remained, growing, strengthening me with its tendrils. 'Messer Querini acted entirely within the bounds of propriety. He lent a very considerable sum to the Latin Regent, who, honourable man that he is, gave his creditor an exceptionally sound piece of security. And so honourable is Messer Querini that he has allowed the treasure to remain in Constantinople.'

  'But we were acting for Louis of France ...' I began, but the Doge raised a cautioning finger.

  'Louis will have to pay Messer Querini’ he said. You expected, of course, that he would pay you!

  Suddenly hope flowered into revelation. I placed my hand to my breast, and felt the crackle of parchment there. They had not searched me - had not even taken Thorn, which had terrified me, for it meant that they feared no resistance, resistance being unthinkable. But now I had something far more dangerous, and it was not the knife.

  ‘Your Honour, Honourable Council’ I said, your concerns for the safety of your interests in the Latin Empire are unfounded. I sought audience with you on a most urgent and weighty matter of state, although it seems you heard only my enquiry as to the whereabouts of Baldwin, which seem to be something of a mystery’ I shot a look at Querini, but he was gazing, bored, at the ceiling. 'Although I have been taken by force of arms in broad daylight, like a common scoundrel, I am an accredited agent of His Holiness the Pope, and of His Majesty Louis Capet, most pious monarch of France’ I was spooning on the diplomatic unction a little thickly, but judging by the room's silence, not entirely in vain, so I reached into my tunic and pulled out, first the letter from Andrew of Longjumeau, and then the papal bull itself.

  'This’ I declaimed, holding up Andrew's letter, 'appoints me an agent of the King of France.' I handed it to the nearest councillor, who began to study it curiously and a little gingerly, as if he expected something scurrilous. 'And this’ I went on, holding up the bull, with its massive seal, 'is a decree issued by Pope Gregory in person, dated September of last year, and signed by His Holiness at Viterbo in my presence’ That had their attention, for every eye, especially those of Messer Nicholas Querini, were now fixed upon the great, ominous seal of lead. Seizing the moment, I gave a stiff, grudging bow.

  'I would guess that this is not the usual welcome accorded to weary ambassadors in your Republic’ I said, coldly. 'But I am young in years and my person does not, I will admit, reflect the gravitas of my commission. Nevertheless ...' and I tensed every sinew in my body as I said this, nevertheless, I wish to address the Doge in private, for I have matters of high state that I would rather not speak of in public’

  Querini pushed himself up out of his chair. 'How dare you insult the Serenissima, you verminous—' he barked, but the Doge, who was scanning Andrew's letter, took hold of his arm.

  'Nicholas’ he said, pleasantly, but there was a taste of iron in his voice. Querini shut his mouth and sat down, his face tight with fury. Around the table, the councillors had their heads together, whispering, but the Doge stared directly at me. I felt myself grow pale, but allowed myself one single blink in return. At last one of the councillors, the man who had first addressed me and who now held Andrew's letter, turned to the Doge and gave him a simple, measured nod.

  'Good, good’ exclaimed the Doge. He looked around the table. 'Sirs, with your permission I will withdraw to my chambers with this gentleman.'

  One by one the red-robed men nodded their assent. The man who had arrested me left his post by the window and walked past me to an inner door. He opened it and stood by while the Doge entered. We followed him into a small, surprisingly sparse room lit by two narrow windows. Tiepolo seated himself in a smaller version of his throne in the council chamber, and, prompted by the official, we took two smaller seats. I looked around me furtively. The walls were painted, but it had been done many years ago - centuries, perhaps - as the paint had faded into the plaster, which was itself cracked in places. There were stars, waves, winged lions, done mostly in gold upon a red field. It must have been splendid once, but now the room was almost homely and in spite of my fears I began to grow more easy.

  'Thank you, Giustiniano’ Tiepolo told the man in the black robe, who nodded and left the room.

  'Giustiniano Zeno is one of our most trusted captains’ said the Doge, when the door had closed. 'A man whose discretion matches his capability. I trust you were not inconvenienced in any way’

  'Not at all’ I said hurriedly. It was clear that, to Doge Tiepolo and to Giustiniano Zeno, being abducted by archers on the Grand Canal did not count as an inconvenience.

  The Doge leaned forward. 'I regret that you were not shown more politesse, Signor Auneford’ he said. His voice was low but distinct, commanding, the French word a hiss: the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

  At that moment a pair of servants entered with trays of food and drink. Tiepolo insisted I eat, which given the state of my nerves was a particular refinement of cruelty. But, eager to give no offence, I picked at some unpleasant little fish smothered in raisins and vinegar. The wine, however, was an excellent Monemvasia, and I allowed myself a good draught or two. Finally the Doge spoke again, wiping the remains of a minced-meat cake from his chin.

  Young man, it grieves me to hear that Messer de Montalhac will not be returning to our city. Your master, despite what you heard out there, was known to us, as was the nature of his business. Rest assured, that does not concern us’ He leaned back in his chair and slowly folded his arms across his chest. ‘I doubt you will be surprised to learn that we have had you under observation, Signor, since your arrival this morning, for we have been watching the Palazzo Centranico, your master’s residence on the Rio Morto. You may find it helpful to learn that your master fascinates - fascinated - us, and that he ought to have been flattered by our attentions, for we in turn were flattered that he chose our Republic as his home. Rest assured’ the Doge continued, 'that if his company chooses to return, our attention will not prove to be, in this case .. .' he raised a jewelled finger to his cheek and rubbed it gently, distractedly,'... malign.'

  'The company of the Cormaran will return to Venice’ I said, 'and with its captain. For Michel de Montalhac is not dead, he is merely in Ravenna, although that is not necessarily, preferable.'

  'But Querini assured us ...' said the Doge, looking genuinely surprised. I pressed home.

  'Querini, perhaps in his great love for the Serene Republic, has withheld certain truths, I believe’ I said. 'My master was abducted from Constantinople and taken to Querini's island of Stampalia, where he was woefully ill-used. I was able to rescue him, and at this moment he is recovering from his many hurts. But he is not a young man, and it will be a matter of sometime before he is well again. Querini told you that he had done away with him?' The Doge nodded, slit-eyed. 'As he tried to do away with me.'

  'This is nonsense’ snapped Tiepolo, beginning to rise from his chair. You have postponed the moment of your judgement, I see, with slanders and ...'

  'I will tell you why Querini has misled the Republic’ I cried, 'and why he has murdered and plotted. Nay, I will show you!' And I held out Gregory's decree. The Doge snatched it from me, but sank back into his cushion. He cast a hawkish eye over the letters, and suddenly his shoulders dropped and his brow crumpled into a deep frown.

  'This is an absolution from simony’ he muttered, and glanced up at me. I nodded.

  'Given to Captain de Montalhac so that he might accomplish Gregory's fervent wish: that Louis of France bestow upon Baldwin of Constantinople some part of his great wealth, as gratitude for a certain gift that was to be
made to him - that gift being the holy Crown of Thorns.'

  'But you say Querini has the Crown,' said Tiepolo, head cocked in puzzlement. 'And ... if that is so, he has every right to it. And moreover, he does great honour to our city by bringing it here, and by arranging the loan to ...'

  'Querini did not loan his own money, though, did he?' I asked quickly.

  'No: it was a consortium, although Querini put up perhaps the greater part.'

  'Thirteen thousand livres of gold,' I said. 'A colossal sum. That such a strange, plain thing as a plaited ring of thorns could be worth so much. But who can put worth on such a thing? That is simony.'

  Young man ...' snapped Tiepolo.

  What would the Crown of Thorns be worth to the highest bidder?' I asked him.

  'Such a question is blasphemy!' he protested.

  'And yet that is what Querini wishes to find out,' I said. The Doge stiffened again, but I went on: 'He has it. Querini has the Crown. It is here in Venice. I saw him take it from the Pharos Chapel with my own eyes. He abducted Captain de Montalhac and tortured him, for he believed he had this letter. Querini has need of the decree of absolution, for he intends to negotiate with Louis himself.'

  What of it?' said the Doge. 'He will recoup the thirteen thousand for the consortium. The Querinis are the richest family in Venice: they are very sharp in matters of business.'

  'Ah. The thing of it is, that Querini does not know what the highest bidder is willing to pay, and I do,' I said. I picked up the pope's letter from the table. 'Louis of France has already decided what he wishes to pay for the Crown, and it is not thirteen thousand livres of gold’ I leaned forward over the low table. Reluctantly, Tiepolo did the same. I found myself very close to his dark, diamond-hard eyes. Well?' he muttered.

  'Louis will pay one hundred and thirty-five thousand gold livres,' I said.

  There was utter silence in the room, save for the pounding of my own blood. A bloated winter fly alighted on the sweet fish, and I heard the skitter of its claws.

  Impossible .. ‘ breathed the Doge at last.

  'No. Two Dominican friars - one of them is the Andrew of Longjumeau who wrote this letter - wait with my master at Ravenna. They have the authority to treat with the holder of the relic, and will authorise any payment up to that sum. I swear it. And I, young as I am, and a poor substitute for Captain de Montalhac, have the power, invested in me by the pope, to agree to and legalise the transaction’

  What ... what exactly are you saying?' asked Tiepolo, groping for his wine cup.

  'That the Crown of Thorns is here in Venice, in the illegal possession of a possibly, but not certainly, treasonous citizen. I am sure it would be much more to King Louis' taste to deal with the Most Serene Republic of Venice than with Messer Nicholas - do you not agree?'

  'Undoubtedly. But he has a right to hold the Crown. And treason ... we have no proof, no proof at all.'

  ‘Your Honour, I can supply the proof, today.'

  'I doubt that,' barked Tiepolo, haughtily.

  Where is Baldwin de Courtenay?' I asked him.

  'Rome,' he said.

  'Or France?'

  'The Republic is not a party to Baldwin of Constantinople's plans and whims’ rasped Tiepolo. We have another emperor to concern ourselves with, a far more dangerous one’ 'And if he were here?'

  'Here, he would be a revered guest’ said the Doge.

  Well, he is here. Querini is holding him captive. He was taken from Rome last summer, by force. One of his companions, a Fulk de Grez, was killed - this I know for certain. Doubtless the other companion also died.'

  'He would not dare .. .'

  'For half the treasury of France? What man alive would not dare? The pope's decree does not specify one transaction. It has no limit. Do you know, Your Honour, what lies in the Pharos Chapel? Treasures beyond the world's dreams. Querini will sell it all. He will buy the poor Latin Empire - dear God, he can probably afford it already. And then he will buy Venice.'

  I regretted those last words the moment they left my tongue, for I had overstepped, I was sure. But to my utter amazement, Doge Tiepolo had risen to his feet and was pulling open the door.

  'Querini, would you come in here, please?' he called. I heard a councillor give an unconcerned reply, and then Tiepolo threw up his hands and beat upon the frame of the door.

  WHEN?' he bellowed.

  Nicholas Querini had excused himself from the council chamber as soon as the Doge and I had withdrawn, and no one had thought anything of it. After Doge Tiepolo's outburst and the shocked silence that had followed it, an icy efficiency descended upon the council. Taking his place at the head of the table, the Doge, as calmly and carefully as a surgeon carving out a canker, laid out what I realised was my case against Querini. There was no dissent. But for Tiepolo's cry, there was scarce anything to show that these men were made of warm flesh and blood, so icily did they go about drawing up their orders. Giustiniano Zeno was to go at once to the Querini Palace with a company of soldiers, place Messer Nicholas under arrest, free the emperor should they find him - and there was marked scepticism on that point - and take possession of the Crown of Thorns.

  I insisted on going with him. For, I told them, I was in effect not only the pope's agent but also Louis' and, at a stretch, Baldwin's as well. If the Crown were there it was my duty to ensure that it was safe and genuine. So far had the wheel of my fortune turned in the short space of time since I had stood before them as a hopeless wretch that they agreed without argument, and I was about to follow Zeno from the chamber when the Doge laid his hand upon my shoulder and crooked a finger at the soldier.

  'Zeno, I do not wish any scandal to fall too hard upon the house of Querini,' he said softly. You will manage that?' Zeno nodded. 'Excellent. You look puzzled, young man,' he said to me. 'Hear this. The Querinis are, with the Tiepolos, the most powerful family in Venice. If they are weakened, the Republic weakens. I do not think Nicholas will be at the palazzo in San Polo. Please make a fuss, Zeno, a diversion. And then leave with Signor Petroc, and find Querini and this damnable Baldwin. Do it quietly, and settle it, if you can, to everyone's satisfaction.'

  'Everyone's?' I asked him, daring to hold his gaze for the first time.

  'The Republic comes first. The emperor will require some sop. Querini must not lose too much face. Otherwise, I care not. Ah. And my young friend. If you are playing us false, you shall not escape,' he told me, fixing me with his pitiless eyes.

  'I have too much at stake’ I assured him. 'Such as?' he enquired.

  'The confidence of popes and emperors’ I said, tapping the pope's letter and tucking it away in my tunic. 'But far more important than that, my commission.' And I took my leave of him, but not before I had caught a flicker of something in his face - not respect, to be sure, but perhaps a hint of recognition. All thieves, these Venetians, the Captain had said. Well, perhaps I would be welcome here after all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A

  company, a full thirty men, had formed a column in the street behind the palace. They were mail-clad and armed with sword and buckler, and the first ten held pikes. Zeno took his place at the head, and I, having no idea what to do, fell in behind him. We set off in a jingle and stamp of iron-shod boots, and marched through the piazza of San Marco, dividing the crowds before us, and sending whirring clouds of pigeons into the sky. I found I knew the way we were going: back to the Quartarolo Bridge. People pressed themselves against the walls to let us by, some scowling, others catcalling, and the ever-present whores calling out their invitations. The bridge was whole again, and we made it writhe and skip as we banged across. One of the boatmen recognised me and called out some imprecation, and I, feeling somewhat tipsy with the turn my fortunes had taken, reached for my purse and threw him a gold piece, his pay for a month, no doubt, and he snatched it from the air and cursed me again, laughing this time.

  The way is almost straight from the Riva Alta to the square where the Querinis' palace stands
, and before we had gone far we could see some commotion in the distance, and soon the sound of women crying out in anger and mockery. Clattering into the square, we saw before us something that stopped every man in his tracks. For the place was full of women. The whores of San Cassiano had laid siege to the Palazzo Querini. They yelled up at the windows, and some were throwing old fruit and eggs, daubing the brick with juicy spatters. In front of the mob, standing before the palace door, stood Mother Zaneta, silent and grim, and beside her was Letice. When she saw me she gaped and thrust a fist into her mouth. I shook my head furiously and stifled my happy cry with both hands, for Zeno had scanned the crowd and found its leaders. I followed him towards the two women.

  'Ladies, what means this?' he asked gruffly. The whores behind us were pulling up their clothes and flaunting themselves before the soldiers, who were beginning to shuffle their feet like bull-calves on a summers day. Letice had stepped behind the older woman and was attempting to question me with her eyes.

  We have come to make a protest to Signor Nicholas Querini’ said Mother, with tight dignity. 'Some members of his household came to my place of business with weapons drawn, and disturbed my customers. Ah. And one of my employees has a broken arm’ she added. 'I require restitution, and these other delegates from the Campo San Cassiano are here in sympathy’

  And the attackers? What of them?' said Zeno. He was running his gaze across the face of the building, no doubt looking for armed defenders. There seemed to be none.

  'I am fortunate to have a doughty household myself’ said Mother Zaneta, icily. 'There’ She jerked her chin towards the canal, where three bodies lay, feet towards us.

  'Good Christ, Signora!' exclaimed Zeno. 'But the Republic cannot allow .. ‘

  'The Republic, Giustiniano Zeno, cannot allow its highest functionaries to be disturbed as they take their hard-won ease’ she said. And well you know it. Now. I would have you open that door’