lhe room into which Ned, Henri, and Dr Leone were ushered to wait for the Count was large and spacious, with a gloriously painted ceiling and bright frescoes on the walls. The only bits of furniture were four chairs against one wall.
It was an ordinary-enough room, yet there was something about it that made Ned feel uneasy. He felt as though unseen eyes were watching him. But there was no one there except themselves, and no obvious spy-holes.
Suddenly the door at the end of the room opened.
124-H-
A guard came out. The Count will see you now,’ he said, and ushered them through.
This room too had an odd atmosphere. Perhaps because it was so stuffy and heavily decorated—the walls painted in red and gold, with pictures crammed on every square inch of them. There was a good deal of carved, gilded furniture, including an ornate desk and chair. Over the desk hung a striking portrait of a man dressed in the fashion of the previous century. And at the desk, under the painting, sat a man who could almost have been the twin of the man in the portrait. He was about forty-five, tall, broad-shouldered, auburn-haired, and tawny-eyed, with a bony face and a big nose, and wearing the plain dark robes of the high Venetian aristocracy.
‘ Buongiorno, signore. 3 The Count’s voice was soft and held little inflection. Ned could see the deep lines etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the threads of silver that ran through the auburn hair, the way his
fingers drummed nervously on the desk. He looks
*
jumpy, haunted , unhappy, thought Ned suddenly. As if there is something weighing on him .
The Count motioned for them to sit down and for the guard to go away. The man hesitated perceptibly; then he bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The Count said something to Dr Leone, who took a parchment from his doublet and handed it to the Count. The Count perused it briefly. Ned knew it was the document that Dr Leone had concocted last night,
■<4- 125 -H*-
detailing the supposed kidnap of Master Ashby by ‘island pirates.’
He asked a question. Dr Leone answered. The Count
frowned and glanced towards Ned and Henri. Dr Leone
>
said something rapidly, no doubt explaining their part in it. They’d decided to keep as close to the truth as possible. When the doctor had finished, the Count was silent a moment. Then he spoke quickly to Dr Leone.
‘He wants to ask you questions,’ said the doctor, turning to Ned, ‘as you’re Master Ashby’s employee and were on the spot when he was taken. I’ll translate and convey your answers.’
The Count spoke. Dr Leone said, with a slightly raised eyebrow, ‘He asks if you’ve known Master Ashby long.’
‘Of course,’ said Ned. ‘He’s my master. I’ve worked for him for years.’
The Count’s gaze rested on Ned, rather disapprovingly. He said something querulous. Dr Leone hesitated a moment, then said, ‘The Count asks, is your master a spy for Queen Elizabeth?’
Ned stared. ‘What?’
Dr Leone repeated the question.
Ned stammered, ‘Dr Leone, you—you must tell him that’s not true. Master Ashby has never been a spy! He’s a well-respected merchant!’
‘Don’t fret, Ned. I know.’
Dr Leone turned back to the Count. More querulous words from the noble man.
■<-4* 12 6 -H*-
‘The Count says that just because Master Ashby is a merchant doesn’t mean he isn’t also spying,’ Dr Leone reported back. ‘He says there have been one or two English merchants who have been caught doing exactly that. And they paid for it in Venetian prisons.’
‘Sir, you must convince him that it isn’t so! We came to ... so he could visit you, and . . . and investigate the pirates,’ cried Ned. How foolish we are to have come here, he thought, shivering. We are well and truly in the wolf's den now. We could end up in a Venetian prison ourselves. Or worse still, on the rack.
‘Hush,’ said Dr Leone, and turning back to the Count, he spoke volubly and fluently. The Count listened. His eyes fixed on Ned, he spoke again.
‘He asks if your master is working for someone else,’ the doctor translated.
‘What? Who could he be working for? Only the group of merchants to which he belongs, back in England.’
Dr Leone said calmly, ‘I told him that. But he asks if you’ve been paid to snoop on him.’
Ned swallowed. ‘Dr Leone, I don’t understand. What sorts of questions are these?’
‘Those of a man who doesn’t trust people much, I’d say,’ said Dr Leone lightly. To the Count, he spoke soothing words in Italian.
The Count answered quickly. Dr Leone translated. ‘He says, what was the English merchant looking for, in the alley, at that time of night?’
‘An informant arranged to meet him—someone who had something important to tell him, about the pirates we told him about,’ said Ned, trying to sound convincing, and Dr Leone conveyed it to the Count.
Montemoro shot a hard glance at Ned. Then he said something, to which Dr Leone responded, spreading his hands and shrugging his shoulders.
Henri whispered, ‘The Count wanted to know why Master Ashby didn’t take anyone along for protection on such a dangerous undertaking. Informants are often criminals themselves and not to be trusted. Dr Leone said he was a trusting man. Too trusting.’
‘That’s right,’ said Ned, brightening. ‘He’s a good man. A kind man. Tell him that, Dr Leone. It’s not a crime, to be trusting.’
Dr Leone turned back to the Count, who nodded and smiled grimly, his eyes resting thoughtfully on Ned. He said nothing for a little while, then murmured something to Dr Leone. The alchemist’s eyes widened briefly; then he recovered himself.
‘The Count asks if in fact Master Ashby wasn’t looking for a lost girl.’
Silence. Three pairs of eyes stared at the Count. But the tawny eyes stared back only into Ned’s eyes, un- blinkingly. Ned didn’t know what to say. The Count murmured something else.
Dr Leone bit his lip. He whispered, ‘He asks if you might take a commission from him.’
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Ned swallowed. ‘A commission? I don’t understand.’ He felt frightened. What was the Count playing at? What should he do? He looked pleadingly at Dr Leone, who nodded imperceptibly. The meaning in his eyes was clear. Don't worry . I'll deal with this.
The alchemist turned to the Count and spoke. The Count answered briefly. Dr Leone translated. ‘I said you would be honoured, but first you must find your master. He said that he would try and help you. Give him a description of the assailants.’
Ned stammered, . . . I only really saw the man in the alley, the . . . the one who was pretending to be the Captain. He ... er ... he was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the bearing of a man-at-arms. And he—’
He broke off suddenly as the door crashed open. A woman stood framed in the doorway, flanked by a grizzled, burly officer of the guard. She was in her late thirties, quite short, and slim as a whippet, with sharp blue eyes, sallow skin, and silky fair hair teased into an unbecoming style. She was dressed in a brown-and-yellow silk gown that for all its splendour did nothing for her. But it was her air of command which made it quite clear who she was. The Countess of Montemoro!
The Countess spoke. Her first words were in Italian, to the Count. Ned didn’t need to understand a word of the language to know she was berating him in no uncertain terms. The Count visibly shrank in his chair as her tirade went on. Meanwhile, the grizzled officer
12 9 -H-
watched with a sardonic curl of the lip. It was plain what he thought of the Count’s meekness.
Presently the woman stopped. She turned to Ned and
\
snapped in perfect English, ‘I am the Countess of Mon- temoro. What is the meaning of this intrusion?’
‘My . . . my master, my lady,’ stammered Ned. ‘He’s disappeared. Kidnapped by pirates. Dr Leone told us that the Count might be able to help us.’
‘Kidnapped by pirates? ’ Her voice was like a whip. ‘On land? I haven’t heard of such an event for years.’ She turned to the officer. ‘Have you, Maffei?’
‘No, my lady,’ said the man, his impassive glance watching the visitors’ faces.
‘That’s why we came to Venice,’ said Ned. ‘I mean, not to be kidnapped by pirates,’ he hurried on, ‘but to investigate some problems my master’s ships, and those of his fellow London merchants, have been experiencing lately, due to the depredations of pirates off the coast of Venice.’
The Countess’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really? Has he spoken to the Council of Ten about it?’
‘Not yet, my lady, but—’
‘But nothing. I have not heard anyone was here on an official investigative mission.’
‘He was trying to do it discreetly,’ said Ned.
‘I don’t think you’re telling the truth, boy. Why are you really here?’
‘My lady,’ said Dr Leone carefully, ‘I can assure you that this is a real situation and we—’
13 0 -H*-
‘Be quiet, alchemist,’ she snapped. ‘I was asking the boy a question. Let him answer.’ Her blue eyes gimlet- ted Ned’s face, as if trying to burrow into his very soul and see the truth there.
‘I—I assure you, my lady,’ he faltered, ‘it’s absolutely true. My master has been kidnapped by a gang in Bosco Alley.’
‘Why was he in the Bosco Alley?’ said the Countess.
‘He was to meet an informant. About the piracy business.’
She snorted. ‘Then your master is a fool. That area is dangerous. And how could he trust an informant he hadn’t even met—and on such a matter too?’
‘I... I don’t know, my lady.’
‘Your master must be mad, then. Even if the story you tell is true and you have not come here to spy on us, we cannot help you. You will have to deal with it yourselves.’
‘But, my lady, the Count said—’
‘You have presumed too much,’ said the Countess, moving to her husband’s side and placing a hand on his shoulder. Ned distinctly saw the man twitch. ‘My husband is not quite himself at present. He should not be bothered with such matters. They should be left to the - proper authorities. Go—and do not return.’
‘But, sir,’ said Dr Leone, turning to the Count, ‘you did say you would—’
Montemoro looked away. He waved a hand in dismissal.
-H- 13 1-H-
‘You see?’ said the Countess, her eyes gleaming. ‘My husband wishes you to go. You have trespassed on his good nature. Too many people do so. I have to con-
s
stantly watch put for that.’
‘Forgive us, my lady,’ said Dr Leone coolly. ‘We only thought to ask for your husband’s advice. But we see now it was a mistake. We will go elsewhere. To the Duke.’ His eyes met hers.
She shrugged. ‘Then do so. You’re such a good friend of his, aren’t you, Dr Leone? I’m sure he’ll be able to help you. That’s what you should have done in the first place. Now be off. You have wasted enough of our time.’ She turned to the officer. ‘Maffei, kindly have our visitors escorted off the premises.’
And there was nothing any of them could do about it.
As they drew away from the palace, Henri said fiercely, ‘We should have told that harridan what we thought of her!’
‘What good would that have done?’ said Dr Leone. ‘She’s obviously the true master in that place.’
‘It’s not just that. I think the Count is actually afraid of her,’ said Ned.
‘Yes. But why?’
Ned had been pondering that. ‘Because of the girl. Sarah Tedeschi. You heard what he wanted from me. I think that the commission he wanted to give us was to find her.’
-H- 1 3 2
‘Yes, I think that too,’ said Dr Leone.
‘So it must be true, then,’ said Ned slowly. ‘He’s in love with the girl and he’s frightened his wife will find out where she is. But he can’t know where Sarah is either, or he wouldn’t have asked us what he did.’
‘Exactly.’
‘She spoke almost as though her husband were not competent,’ said Henri. ‘I mean, as if he were mad.’
‘She did. But he’s no more mad than you or I, though I’d say he’s at the breaking point over something,’ said Dr Leone. ‘She has some sort of hold over him and he’s too afraid to act openly against her.’
‘She was listening at the door,’ said Ned.
‘Yes—she or one of her guards,’ said Dr Leone.
‘Do you think she heard him talk about the girl and the commission?’ said Ned. ‘He was speaking fairly softly, but. . .’
‘I’m afraid we have to assume she did hear,’ said Dr Leone. ‘And she interrupted you just as you were describing the attacker—-before I had time to translate to the Count what you’d said. And of course she understands English well.’ He paused and looked searchingly at Ned. ‘You’re the only witness who can testify to that man. You’re a marked man, Ned. You must leave Venice.’
Ned stared at him in dismay. ‘Leave Venice! No! I think I should accept the Count’s commission to—’
‘Don’t be a fool, Ned,’ said Dr Leone sharply. ‘That’s dead in the water, now. You’ll never get near him again,
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she’ll make quite sure of that. You’re in serious danger, Ned.’
‘Ned could hide with us, at our place; she doesn’t know where it—’ began Henri, but Dr Leone shook his head.
‘She’ll find out. She will find him there. I think you are safe enough, Henri—you only know the house where Mateo was taken, and I daresay that was only a place of convenience—but Ned has actually seen one of the attackers and can describe him.’
‘But I only managed to say he was tall and broad, with the bearing of a man-at-arms!’
‘That’s enough. Likely enough it was one of her guards, you see. She couldn’t let you continue.’
Ned tried once more. ‘But the Count—he could help us. ... I think he wants to.’
‘What good does that do? The man is a shivering jelly. Most likely now he’ll be locked up and constantly watched.’
Ned was horrified. ‘But, sir, she can’t do that! He’s the Count!’
‘But he’s not in charge. You saw that clearly, Ned. No. You cannot stay here. Now, I own a small house deep in the countryside in terra firma, the mainland. I am certain the Countess knows nothing of it. In fact, I am sure few do—I use it as a bolt-hole when I’m tired of Venice. I have two or three good staff there, who will look after
*<4- 13 4
you. You will be safe there. You must go there today. Right now, without wasting a moment.’
‘But, Dr Leone—the others . . . they’ll wonder what I—’
‘Don’t you worry. I’ll tell Mistress Quickly.’ He smiled. ‘And Miss Celia, of course. In fact, I’ll make arrangements for them to go there too, a little later. No,’ he said when Ned opened his mouth, ‘don’t argue. Just do as you’re told.’
‘But what are you going to do, sir?’ cried Ned.
‘I am going to try and get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry. I will be careful. And I can defend myself—I’m not unhandy with a sword. What’s more, I have powerful friends—and the Countess knows that. That is why I mentioned the Duke.’ He smiled faintly. ‘I’m not afraid of that hell-harpy. And she knows it. People like her work on the fear of others. And she knows I’m not afraid.’ He paused. ‘But oddly enough, she must be afraid—of her husband going to pieces, and also of Sarah. That’s why she’s seeking her and why she was prepared to kidnap Mateo. I don’t think we’re dealing with a simple case of witchcraft or even—sorry, Ned— an unsuitable love affair. Something is very rotten indeed in the Montemoro household—and I intend to find out just what.’
‘But what do you think it could be, sir, if it’s not that the Count’s in love with her?’ asked Ned.
* 4 - 135-H*-
‘I don’t know,’ said Dr Leone. ‘But my instinct tells me it must be something very serious—perhaps something Sarah witnessed when she was alone in the room with the Count. Or something he told her, perhaps.’
‘I can help you in this, sir,’ said Henri. ‘My father has his own contacts here, including some who know the Montemoro family quite well. I might be of use to you.’
‘Very well. If you’re careful, then. But you must be prepared to follow what I say and not to question it. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir. I do.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Ned, miffed. ‘This isn’t fair. Why should Henri be able to stay here and investigate, while I have to cool my heels on the mainland? He’s involved too.’
‘No. He’s not involved like you, Ned. He’s only known about your mission since last night. And he hasn’t been going around questioning people in Cannaregio or the Ghetto, like you have—and believe me, if that hasn’t got back to the Countess yet, it soon will. If it is she who holds Mateo, then she’ll realize now that the man she’s holding is connected to you and she will know for sure what you’re looking for. And, forgive me, but Jacques d’Arcy and his family are quite well known here, unlike you. Abducting or harming Monsieur d’Axcy’s son would be a very serious matter, whereas you—well, you can be written off as just another disposable English spy who poked his nose in where he shouldn’t have. Besides, Ned,
13 6 *>->
it’s safer for Celia too this way,’ Dr Leone added rather cunningly. ‘You wouldn’t want her put in more danger than necessary, would you?’
Ned flushed. Was he as transparent as all that? He said defiantly, ‘I would protect Celia with my life, if need be. But I don’t think you quite understand, about her. She is very brave and resourceful. That’s why I wanted her to—’
‘The house also happens to be in a most idyllic spot,’ interrupted Dr Leone gently. ‘Arqua, in the Euganean hills. Celia will love it—it was once the house of our great poet, Petrarch. At this time of year, it will be most charming, a real spot for two lovebirds. Flowers, vineyards, olive groves . . .’
‘It sounds beautiful,’ said Ned, biting his lip. ‘But we’re not lovebirds. That is, Celia—’
‘Just doesn’t know her own mind yet,’ said Dr Leone calmly. ‘Isn’t that right, Henri?’
The young Frenchman raised his eyebrows. ‘I really would not know,’ he said lightly. Suddenly Ned remembered the aborted duel, the hot words between them on the ship. Was Henri glad to be rid of him? Would he and Celia . . .
But before Ned could say anything, Dr Leone, who had been watching the two young men, broke in.
‘Look, Ned. I promise to let you know what’s happening, as soon as anything does.’
‘Hmm,’ said Ned doubtfully.
‘We will go and hire a suitable boat to take you across to the mainland,’ said the alchemist briskly. ‘Once there,
you will hire a horse to take you to Arqua. Then I will
\
arrange for Celia and Mistress Quickly to join you, at once. Henri, meanwhile, will stay with me. All the time,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Eh, Henri?’
‘Of course,’ said Henri smoothly.
‘Are you agreed, then, Ned?’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Ned rather ungraciously. He’d had an idea. He might have to look as though he was heading for the Arqua house, but what was to stop him, once he was left alone, from turning back to Venice?
The three of them fell silent now, as Dr Leone concentrated on steering the gondola through the thickening press of craft on the canal. But if any of them had chanced to look more closely, they might have seen a boat sheltering in the shadow of a landing-stage, where it had been waiting for a few minutes. They might have wondered what the gondolier was waiting for and might then have made out two familiar figures in the passengers who huddled under enveloping blue and green cloaks. They might then have wondered why Celia and Mistress Quickly were apparently hiding from them. But, preoccupied with their troubled thoughts, the men failed to notice anything at all.
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