States of Grace (Saint-Germain #18)

States of Grace (Saint-Germain #18) Page 5

One of the bargemen was shouting imprecations and curses at the occupants of a private gondola; his energetic invectives carried across the water to the Ca' Fosian, where it rose among the elaborate new palaces on the south side of the Pont' Rialto; workmen labored to complete rebuilding the bridge. May had turned warm, and the brisk breeze was barely sufficient to cut through the midday heat, as penetrating as the furnaces of the glass-makers. The bargeman raised his voice again, calling on San Marco to strike the prosperous merchants in the gondola with lightning.

From his second-floor study window, Orso Fosian watched the workers and wiped his face with his sleeve, then turned to his visitor. "If May is this hot, what will July be?" He expected no answer, and went on, "I wish I could tell you that any of my ships have had any success in evading the corsairs, but they have not." He was almost fifty, still straight and imposing, although he walked slowly due to a painful back, and his face was the texture of old leather from his youth spent at sea. His dogaline-and-doublet were as fine as any in the city, of a dull-plum intertwined-leaf damask lined in a very conservative shade of pewter; the lace edging on his sleeves and collar was from Liege, and the points were accented with seed-pearls. "I have had to spend a fortune to get my sailors back, as have my brothers; the oarsmen must be considered lost to the Turks, may God punish them for their temerity." As one of the six members of the powerful Minor Consiglio, he found his loss particularly galling. He reached for the shutter and slammed it closed, shutting out the clamor and invectives from the canal below, muttering, "No more."

"A heavy burden for any man," said Franzicco Ragoczy di Santo-Germano. "Are you going to put armed men on your ships?" He, too, was handsomely dressed in a dogaline-and-doublet of black silk edged in a narrow band of silver lace and lined in deep-red satin, over a camisa of fine linen from Crete; his leggings and shoes were black, ornamented with small garters with diamond clips, at once restrained and luxurious.

"I haven't made up my mind," Fosian confessed. "It is a dreadful expense, having such guards on the ships, and most soldiers don't like duty at sea, but if they save the cargo and the crew, they are worth every ducat."

"Indeed," said di Santo-Germano.

"I have heard you have hired a company of armed men for your ships," Fosian said, a speculative lift to his thick, white eyebrows.

"For those ships traversing Ottoman waters, yes. If it proves a satisfactory arrangement, then I may put them on all the craft I own; the corsairs are broadening their hunts every month, and my captains are beginning to accept the notion of having soldiers aboard." Di Santo-Germano regarded Fosian narrowly. "What about pilferage here, at the docks and wharves?"

"It is a constant, as you must know for yourself," said Fosian. "A terrible situation, but what can anyone do?"

"Hire guards for the cargos once they're off-loaded," said di Santo-Germano at once. "Give your ships' soldiers something to do ashore beyond whoring and drinking."

"They're apt to be the most light-fingered of all," said Fosian miserably. "But you're right: cargos must be guarded, and emporia, as well, just as we guard the Arsenal. So many things must be protected." He heaved a heavy sigh. "All of which costs money."

"That it does," said di Santo-Germano, and reached into the tooled black-leather wallet that hung from his narrow belt. "Which is why I have brought this with me." He held out a small purse that jingled. "My contribution to the protection of all docks, wharves, and emporia."

Fosian took the purse and untied its knotted thongs, then turned out the contents onto his work-table; he stifled a gasp at what fell out. "Fiorini d'or," he marveled as the golden Florentine coins poured onto the wood. "So much! How many?"

"Seventy," said di Santo-Germano as if this staggering amount was nothing more than a few silver Turkish sequins; he had made the gold in his own athanor in his private laboratory, and used genuine Florentine molds and stamps to cast the precious metal.

"A princely sum," said Fosian, recovering himself enough to scoop up the gleaming trove and slip it into a small drawer in the chest under the table. "I will, naturally, inform I Savii of your contribution."

"And I thank you for that consideration," said di Santo-Germano. "This is a hard time for trading."

"So it is," said Fosian. "I can see the trouble everywhere."

The city was flourishing, and Venezia was rich beyond imagining, but di Santo-Germano knew this made her as much a target as an example to other ports. "The jealousy of rivals is the price of achievement."

Fosian held up one palm to show he was helpless to stop such envy. "This will help us; I know the Minor Consiglio will be grateful." He coughed gently. "Your taxes will not be lessened."

"I realize that," said di Santo-Germano. "That would be possible only if I were a citizen of La Serenissima."

"You could be," Fosian suggested.

"It is impractical, I regret to say," he responded with a slight, self-effacing bow. "As an exile, I fear I would not be able to sustain my obligations to Venezia-"

"-If your exile should end," Fosian finished for him. "I do understand you. And I see your point. Ah, well. If you should change your mind, I would be pleased to speak on your behalf."

Di Santo-Germano spoke quietly. "I am deeply obliged to you, Consiglier Fosian."

Fosian waved this away. "You have no reason for such obligation, not after so lavish a gift as you have provided. I would be a fool not to sponsor such a man as you."

"Nevertheless, I am obliged to you," said di Santo-Germano.

"If you insist," said Fosian, and came up to his guest to touch cheeks with him. "You are a most gracious fellow, Conte, and I thank you on behalf of the Doge and his Consiglii, and Savii."

Di Santo-Germano accepted the courtesy, saying, "I will do myself the honor of calling upon you within the next fortnight. I would like to present you with a copy of my press' latest books."

"Generous and perspicacious," approved Fosian. "For if I have copies of the books, how can I protest your publications?" He laughed, and started toward the door. "I am sorry you cannot join us for prandium, but as you have other business to attend to-"

"I thank you for your invitation; I am sorry I must decline. I wish you good appetite, glad companions, and a pleasant repose when the meal is done," said di Santo-Germano, preceding his host through the door. "I have been told you keep an excellent table."

"As any man in my position must, as he must dress and equip himself," said Fosian. "Well, do not trouble yourself. We will dine together another time."

"When it is appropriate," said di Santo-Germano, politely avoiding the necessity of refusing another invitation.

"As you say." They descended the broad staircase to the main floor, and the loggia that fronted on the canal. "Your gondola is here."

"Yes," said di Santo-Germano.

"You do well to keep a gondola of your own. It is safer to do so," said Fosian as he signaled for the boat to approach the loading step.

"Yes; it is," said di Santo-Germano, whose native earth provided the weight of the shallow keel he had had built into the gondola, along with certain other modifications of his own design. He stepped into the craft and bowed slightly to Fosian. "Grazie per tutti, Consiglier Fosian."

"San Marco show you favor," Fosian replied, and waved as the gondola pulled away from his palazzo.

The gondola slid in among the tangle of other gondolas, boats, and barges, the rear oar plying the waters expertly. As they reached the middle of the canal, the gondolier, Milano da Costaga, spoke up, taking care not to be overheard by any other boatmen. "Conte, there is a man following you."

Di Santo-Germano looked around, shading his eyes against the twin glint of sky and water. "Are you certain?"

"I am. I have observed him for the last three days. I believe he is a nephew of one of the Savii, or someone close to them, but I am not sure. A young foppish sort, a bit too good-looking and eager; you know the breed." Milano skillfully avoided a small rowboat filled with loaves of new bread, then swerved around another boat drawn up at the side entrance to a small palazzo.

"Tell me more," said di Santo-Germano.

"I first noticed him three days since. He was on the bridge at San Barnaba, trying to appear disinterested, but I saw him try to keep up with us as we went toward the Bacino di San Marco. Had he not started running, I would have paid no attention to him, but ..."

When Milano said nothing more, di Santo-Germano asked, "Is that all?"

"No. I observed him outside San Luca yesterday, and this morning I saw him at the Campo San Angelo."

"Venezia is a small place," said di Santo-Germano. "Are you sure he is following me, and not simply moving in places that I move? If he is a relative of one of the Savii, he might be about any number of duties for them."

"I know a man bent on proper business, and one seeking to do harm." Milano steered toward the smaller canal that would lead to the side of di Santo-Germano's elegant house.

"I have no doubt you do," said di Santo-Germano as the gondola slipped up against the marble steps. "You must not think I doubt you, but it may not be as bad as you suspect." He tossed Milano a pair of silver coins. "Keep watch for him, but do not follow him yourself, only notice when you see him about, and in two days tell me what you find."

Milano snatched the coins out of the air. "That I will, Conte."

Di Santo-Germano got carefully out of the gondola, and stepped into the small side loggia of his house; at once Niccola came running, a sealed letter in his hand and a worried expression on his young face as he thrust the envelope forward. "Conte! Conte! This came for you."

As Milano busied himself securing the gondola to the marble pillars in its mooring spot next to the loggia steps, di Santo-Germano reached for the letter, noticing it had an impression of the Ambrogio arms in the wax sealing it. "When did this arrive?"

"Not two hours ago. A servant from the Arsenal brought it," said Niccola, impressed in spite of himself.

"Very good," said di Santo-Germano. "I'll have a look at it shortly."

Disappointed, Niccola took a step back. "Of course, Signor' Conte. But it's important."

"All the more reason to open it in private," said di Santo-Germano, and continued on through his house to the stairs, which he climbed two at a time. As soon as he reached his study, he broke the seal on the letter and read the contents, his frown deepening as he read:

To the most esteemed foreigner, Conte Franzicco Ragoczy di Santo-Germano, the greetings of Romealdo Ambrogio, merchant and clerk to the Collegio.

I am bidden to inform you that the recommendations and designs you have submitted to the Collegio for the improvement of our warships is under review. You will be asked to wait upon the Savii of the Collegio within the next ten days. Being that you hold no allegiance to any sovereign or any position that would compromise your situation in Venezia, your Word of Surety is all that is required of you at this time. You are asked to hold yourself in readiness, and to inform the Collegio of any travel you may be undertaking within the next year, along with sworn statements of purpose and destinations of such travel. I am certain you understand the necessity of this.

San Marco and the Adriatic preserve Venezia,

Romealdo Ambrogio

by my own hand, this day, May 10th, 1530 Anno Domini

Di Santo-Germano sat still, tapping the note on his hand. This might explain his being followed, he thought, all the while puzzling over the clerk's note. The Doge often assigned spies to those whose work was closely tied to the interests of the Venezian State, but such men usually had skill enough not to be noticed. His thoughts were interrupted as Ruggier came through the side-door that led to the stairs to di Santo-Germano's alchemical laboratory on the top floor of the house. "There you are. How is it with you, old friend?" he asked as he saw the scowl on Ruggier's face.

"I caught Euchario-"

"The under-steward?" di Santo-Germano interjected.

"The very man," said Ruggier with morose satisfaction. "He was in the stairwell there"-he pointed to the door he had just opened-"and I suspect he had been to the laboratory, although he declared he had not. He claimed he didn't know you had left the house."

"Did he give any reason for his explorations?" di Santo-Germano asked as if he were inquiring about nothing more important than the latest shipment of hides from Tana; he continued to speak in the Venezian dialect.

"He said it was to serve the State, but nothing more than that," said Ruggier in the same tongue. "I have him confined to his room, awaiting your decision about him."

"Ah." Di Santo-Germano glanced at the note he held and put it aside. "Is this the first thing he has done for the State, or has he reported my doings regularly?"

"He did not say," Ruggier told him.

"Well, we may be certain he is not the only spy in this household."

"Yes, we may," Ruggier agreed, clear disapproval on his lean face, and waited for di Santo-Germano to go on.

"Milano tells me I am being followed," di Santo-Germano said remotely. "Is it more of the same, do you think?"

"It may be."

"Did he tell you what he was after?" di Santo-Germano asked.

"I did not press him for an answer, and he volunteered only that he was serving the State, as I mentioned before; he would not say anything more, even when I told him I would demand an official inquiry, before a Judicial Tribunal," Ruggier said, clearly dissatisfied. He took a long breath. "He seems confident that his position is unassailable."

Di Santo-Germano rose and paced toward the window. "Which means it would be folly to dismiss him, for another, possibly more accomplished, would only be sent in his place."

"It is something to consider," said Ruggier.

"How long has he been kept in his quarters?" di Santo-Germano asked.

"An hour or so," said Ruggier. "I put Captain Gozzoli on guard."

"He must be annoyed," said di Santo-Germano; the Captain was his guest in appreciation for the Captain's successful completion of the Galley of Beirut without loss of cargo or crew.

"He is indignant more than annoyed, and his ire is directed at Euchario. The Captain seems determined to talk to the Collegio to assure them of your worthiness," Ruggier said. "I told him he'd serve you better by making sure Euchario stays in his room."

"You're probably right," said di Santo-Germano. "The Collegio might not like what they discover about Captain Gozzoli if they inquire too closely about him. The armed men he carries on the South Wind are as much corsairs as guards, and their Commander, Sereno Guilherme, is as eager for loot as any Ottomite."

"But Commander Guilherme and his men are Venezian corsairs," Ruggier reminded him.

Di Santo-Germano smiled faintly. "That does make a difference."

"The Collegio certainly thinks so," said Ruggier drily. "But Arcangelo Gozzoli would still be a poor advocate, I fear."

"No doubt you're right." Di Santo-Germano turned his back on the window. "Have all the shutters opened. There is a little breeze and it may help to cool the house."

"As you wish," said Ruggier, aware that their discussion was over.

"And tell Captain Gozzoli that I will be down shortly. I want to change into my Hungarian doublet and trunk-hose-they are less imposing than this, and cooler."

"Will you want my assistance?" Ruggier asked.

"Only as I leave my apartments," said di Santo-Germano. "I may not have everything straight."

"I will attend to that when you wish," said Ruggier.

Di Santo-Germano shook his head. "It is occasions like this that makes my lack of reflection inconvenient."

"You manage well, in spite of all," said Ruggier.

"Habit," said di Santo-Germano. "But there is no substitute for your keen eyes."

"Perhaps," Ruggier allowed, and left the study, bound for the lower parts of the house.

Di Santo-Germano set the note from Ambrogio under a leather-bound book on Mediterranean ports, then went out of his study, toward his own apartments on the east side of the house. As he walked, he reviewed what he knew of his servants, making mental notes to be more alert to their various activities. Once in his apartments, he locked the door before unfastening the two brooches that held back the sleeves of his dogaline, then he removed it, next he took off his doublet, then his short, French-style round-hose. Standing in his leggings and camisa, he went to the largest chest-a fine piece of furniture of polished oak that matched the other, smaller chests, and the upholstered chairs-and took out a broad-sleeved Hungarian doublet in black, thick cotton, and black cotton deep-pleated trunk-hose; these he donned, and then took a narrow, Polish-style ruff from an upper drawer of the chest, fixing it around his neck and securing the laces. Last, he removed the diamond clips from his garters and placed them, along with his brooches, in a small case; he carried this into the second room of his apartments, his bedroom, which was Spartan in its simplicity: a single small chest and a narrow bed set atop another chest, with only a single blanket to cover the canvas mattress. A high, narrow window provided what light there was. Di Santo-Germano put the case in the second drawer of the small chest, then left the room, unlocked the door of the outer room, and left his apartments again.

Ruggier met him at the top of the stairs. "You are impeccable," he informed di Santo-Germano after a quick look over his garments.

"Thank you," said di Santo-Germano, adding in the language of Delhi, "Best to keep to the vernacular; too many foreign words, and we become more suspect than before. You and I will have to be especially careful until we know whom among this household is spying on us."

"I understand," said Ruggier in Venezian. "It is a pity that so few still speak the tongue of your people."

"Truly," di Santo-Germano agreed. "But such is the fate of exiles." He went down the stairs behind Ruggier, saying as they neared the bottom step. "Do you remember a Roman called Telemachus Batsho?"

"A decuria, wasn't he?" Ruggier asked.

"Among other things," said di Santo-Germano. "Buckled to his work, was he not." He recalled the endless manipulations of his taxes along with the unrelenting inquiry Batsho had made into his affairs during the chaotic reign of Heliogabalus.

"I can see why he might come to mind," said Ruggier.

"I learned much from that experience," di Santo-Germano said as he stepped onto the main floor. "We will need to be meticulous in our dealings, to avoid any misinterpretations."

"Of course," said Ruggier, adding, "Speaking of dealings, I have sent another donation to Padre Bonnome, as part of your support of San Luca."

"Very good," di Santo-Germano approved, noticing that Niccola was loitering a short distance away.

Ruggier followed di Santo-Germano's gaze, remarking casually, "Will you want to order a feast for our San Mercurius the Hungarian?"

Di Santo-Germano did not so much as blink at the mention of this spurious saint, saying calmly, "You do well to remind me. Yes, indeed. It is wise to observe old traditions. We must set the cooks to planning."

"It is the last day of May, as I recall," said Ruggier.

"Yes. The last day of May," di Santo-Germano assured him, confident that Niccola would spread the news of the Feast of San Mercurius the Hungarian through the household before di Santo-Germano had finished speaking to Euchario, giving the servants something more to concern them than the fate of a single spy.

Text of a letter from James Belfountain of the Black Cross Company to Conte Franzicco Ragoczy di Santo-Germano, written in English, and delivered by courier nine days after it was dispatched.

To His Excellency, the Count Franzicco Ragoczy di Santo-Germano, presently residing at Saint Luke's Square in Venice, the greetings of the Company Commander James Belfountain of the Black Cross Company, along with the information the Count has asked the Company to provide.

The Count has said he wishes to journey to Antwerp, Bruges, and Amsterdam at the end of summer, and has asked for some indication of what the escort of the Black Cross Company would cost. There are three hundred in our Company, and although our numbers are small for war, they are more than is needed for simple escort, particularly since the Count has indicated he will have only three wagons and two dozen horses, as well as four drivers and a farrier accompanying him. For this, no more than twenty men are needed, with horses and remounts for each, and the following figures are predicated on this usage of our numbers: twenty men, forty horses, two guides, and a priest to minister to our souls.

If the weather is good and there is relatively little fighting, you should not have to pay more than twenty gold florins for each se'enight we travel, along with the cost of housing the company at such monasteries, inns, or other accommodations we may need during our travels. This journey should last roughly a fortnight and a se'enight, so your cost would be a total of sixty gold florins. If there is fighting, and we cannot go around it, then the cost would rise to forty gold florins for each se'enight, along with a fee of ten gold florins to each man wounded, and fifty to his family if a man dies.

I have had word with Commander Sereno Guilherme, who assures me that you may be relied upon to abide by your Word and the terms of our contract, so I will not require more than fifty gold florins before we depart, as a deposit on our final payment, and I will not ask that you show proof of having the total sum of our service before we depart for the Lowlands.

We will provide our own horses, tack, weapons, and guides; all other expenses are to be borne by you. If this is satisfactory, please dispatch your acceptance to us at Padua, to Marcello d'Ombrucelli at the Sign of the Blue Bear on Saint Honoria's Square. If I do not hear from you in a fortnight, I will regard that as proof of lack of interest in the terms I have proposed.

Your Excellency's to command,

James Belfountain, Commander

The Black Cross Company

At Padua, the 3ndday of June, AD 1530. By my own hand.