Fools' Gold (30 page)

The double doors swung shut, first the inner one with a sharp bang, then the outer door with a dull thud, making the room soundproof, almost airtight. Luca and Brother Peter stood before the table in complete silence.

At last, the magistrate in the central seat looked up at them. ‘Can I help you, my lords?’ he asked politely. ‘You want to give evidence to us?’

Luca swallowed. ‘I am Luca Vero, an inquirer for the Order of Darkness, sanctioned by the Holy Father himself to investigate the rise of heresy, the danger of the infidel, and the threats to Christendom. This is my clerk and advisor, Brother Peter.’

Blandly, the three regarded Luca. Moving as one, they turned their heads to look at Brother Peter, and then back again.

‘My servant was in the course of making an inquiry for me at the house of an alchemist, Drago Nacari,’ Luca went on. ‘He was arrested by the Venice guard. He has done nothing wrong. I have come to request his release.’

The magistrate glanced at his two colleagues. ‘We were expecting you,’ he said ominously. ‘We have been watching you for some days.’

Luca and Brother Peter exchanged one aghast look, but said nothing.

‘Your papers? To prove your identity?’ One of the clerks rose up from the table and held out his hand.

Brother Peter produced the papers from his satchel and the clerk glanced at them. ‘All in order,’ he said briefly to the silent men at the table. He offered to pass them over the table but they waved them away. Clearly, they were too important to bother with letters of authority.

‘Authorised by the Holy Father himself,’ Brother Peter repeated.

The clerk nodded, unimpressed by the status of the Church. Uniquely in all of Christendom, all the administrators of Venice were laymen. They had not been recruited and trained by the Church; they served the Republic before they served Rome. Luca and Brother Peter had the misfortune of being in the only city in Europe where their papers would not command immediate respect and help.

‘So you are not, as you claimed, servants in the household of the Lady Isolde of Lucretili,’ the clerk observed.

‘No,’ Luca said shortly.

The clerk made a small note as if to record Isolde’s lie.

‘And what was your business with Drago Nacari, the counterfeiter?’ the magistrate seated in the centre of the table asked quietly.

‘We didn’t know that he was a counterfeiter at first,’ Luca said honestly. ‘As you see from our instructions, we were on a mission to find the source of the gold nobles. The lord of our Order had told us to come here, to pass as merchant traders, to find whether the nobles were good or fake, and if they were fake, where they had come from.’

‘Did you not think to inform us?’ was the question from the magistrate on the left.

‘We were going to inform you,’ Luca replied carefully. ‘As you see from our orders, we were commanded to inform you as soon as we had evidence to give to you. Indeed, we were on our way to inform you when our own palazzo was raided, and we were put under house arrest. Then we agreed that we should come and talk with you at dawn. But when our own servant was arrested by you this night, we had to come and disturb you – even though it was so late.’

‘Considerate,’ the third man said shortly. ‘Did you not think to inform us before you began your inquiry? When you arrived in our city looking for counterfeit gold? When you started questioning our merchants and deceiving our bankers? When you started buying counterfeit gold, trading in it, and profiting from the deception? Withholding information which would have affected the price?’

‘Of course not,’ Brother Peter said smoothly. ‘We were obeying the orders of the lord of our Order. We did not know what we might find. If we had found nothing, we would have been very wrong to disturb the confidence of your traders.’

‘They are disturbed now,’ the magistrate observed.

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

‘And what was your relationship with Drago Nacari the alchemist?’ the second magistrate asked ‘For we know he was an alchemist as well as a coiner.’

‘He consulted me about a manuscript that he had,’ Luca admitted. ‘He brought it to my house for me to read, and I returned it to him.’

‘And what did it say?’

‘I was not able to translate it. Not at all.’

‘And what was your impression of his work? When you went to his house?’

‘I did not see enough to be sure,’ Luca said. ‘He certainly had a lot of equipment, he had a number of pieces of work in progress. He had a forge and a vat of rotting matter. He said that it was his life’s work and he spoke of the philosophers’ stone. But I saw nothing of such importance that I would report to my lord or to you.’

‘Everyone speaks of the philosophers’ stone,’ the Council leader said dismissively.

Another nodded. ‘It is irrelevant. He had no licence to practise here so he was a criminal on that count alone.’ He paused. ‘Was he trying to create a living thing?’

Luca stifled a gasp with a little choke.

Brother Peter stepped into the awkward silence. ‘How could he? Only God can give life.’

Luca nodded. ‘Excuse me. No. I saw nothing but some dead and dried animals and insects.’

The clerk took a meticulous note.

‘So to the most important accusation: that he was coining,’ the first magistrate moved on. ‘Did you see any evidence of his coining?’

Luca nodded. ‘He, himself, showed me the moulds for the coins. He told me that the first coins had come from John, Duke of Bedford, that he had known him long ago in Paris. First he had the duke’s true coins and then here in Venice he made a batch of coins according to the duke’s recipe, and planned to pass them off as good, using the duke’s seal.’

‘And yet still, you did not report this to us?’ one of the men queried, his voice like ice. ‘Counterfeiting is a crime that strikes against the very heart of the Republic. Do you know what a run on a currency can do to traders in Venice?’

Luca shook his head, thinking it wiser to stay silent.

‘Ruin them. Ruin us. Ruin the greatest city in the world. And you did not think to report it at once? This criminal confessed to you and you stood in his house and saw the evidence and you did not tell us?’

‘We were on our way,’ Luca said. ’We were coming to you tomorrow morning. At dawn.’

There was a terrible silence. Finally, the man at the centre of the three spoke. ‘Did he tell you how many chests of good coins he had released?’

Luca said: ‘No.’

‘Did he tell you how many forged coins? The bleeding coins, the weeping coins? They are going bad all over the city tonight. People will be hammering on the shutters of the bankers houses, demanding their money back as soon as it is light. Nobody wants bloodstained coins. Nobody wants forgeries. How many are out there?’

Brother Peter cleared his throat. ‘We were coming to you with the evidence against the forgers at dawn tomorrow. Of course we were going to report all that we knew as soon as we had evidence. We were prevented by the charges laid by Lady Carintha. But we don’t know how many coins.’

‘But you were able to send your servant out of the house though you were under arrest?’ one of the men said silkily. ‘In that gravest moment, you did not send him to us to warn us that the coins were melting and bleeding. In that crucial moment you sent him to them – to the alchemists. Why did you do that?’

Luca opened his mouth to speak, found he had nothing to say, and closed it again.

‘Your own officer saw the coins bleed,’ Brother Peter said feebly. ‘He must have reported to you? He must have sent men to arrest the money changer and the counterfeiter?’

The door to the right of them opened and Freize stood in the opening. His clothes were torn, and he had a black eye and a bruise on his forehead. Someone pushed him from behind, and he took a stumbling step into the room. Luca exclaimed and would have gone forwards, but the clerk put a firm hand on Luca’s shoulder and held him back.

‘Freize!’ Luca exclaimed.

‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Took a bit of a kicking, that’s all.’

‘He resisted arrest,’ the clerk said to the gentlemen at the table. ‘He’s nothing more than bruised. He has been held in the inquiry room since his arrest. He hasn’t been harmed.’

‘Did you send him, this servant of yours, to warn the forger? So that they could get away before our men arrested them?’ the head of the Council asked Luca directly, and at once all the clerks paused, their pens poised, ready to write the incriminating confession.

‘No! Of course not!’ Luca said quickly. He tried to smile reassuringly at Freize but found his mouth was too strained.

‘What did you send him for then? Why did he go?’

‘I went,’ Freize said suddenly. ‘I went of my own accord, to see the pretty lass.’

All three heads of the magistrates turned to Freize. ‘You went to warn her?’ one of them asked him.

Luca could see the trap that Freize was walking towards. ‘No!’ he said anxiously. ‘No he didn’t!’

‘I went to see her,’ Freize said. ‘My lord didn’t send me. I went of my own accord. I didn’t know they were going to be arrested, I didn’t know they had done anything wrong. I didn’t know anything about them at all really, all I knew was that I had taken a fancy to her. I thought I’d make a visit.’ Freize scrunched his battered face into an ingratiating grin.

One of the clerks raised his head and remarked quietly to the leader of the magistrates, ‘He got out of the house after the guards had gone in. He must have known they would be arrested. He took a rowing boat and went straight to the alchemist.’

‘They got away in the boat that you rowed to them,’ the second Council man said. ‘You helped them escape, even if you did not go to warn them.’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake! I asked him to go,’ Brother Peter said suddenly, very clearly and as if he were wearied beyond bearing. ‘He went at my request to collect some potion for me. I wanted the medicine before they were arrested. Nobody knew about it but me and the alchemist and then this . . . this dolt. If he had any sense, when he had seen your guards at the door he would have come away, but he pressed on, to get me my . . . er . . . potion. And so got himself arrested, injured, and exposed us to this difficulty and me to this terrible embarrassment.’

Everyone looked from Brother Peter’s scarlet face to Freize, who kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing.

‘And now he’s lying to try to protect me from my embarrassment,’ Brother Peter said, torn between fury and shame. ‘Of course, it only makes it worse. Fool that he is. The alchemist had promised me a – er – a potion. For my – er – affliction.’

‘I didn’t know you were ill?’ Luca exclaimed.

‘I didn’t want anybody to know anything!’ Brother Peter exclaimed, a man at the end of his patience. ‘I must have been mad to trust Freize with such a delicate mission. It was a matter of urgency for me . . . I should have gone myself . . . and now . . . Now I wish I had never consulted the alchemist at all.’

‘What potion?’ one of the magistrates asked.

‘I would rather not say,’ Brother Peter replied, his gaze on the floor, his ears burning red.

‘This is an inquiry into a counterfeiting forge which has had more impact on the safety of the Republic than anything else in a decade!’ The magistrate at the end of the table slammed his hand down and swore. ‘I think you had better say at once!’

The colour drained from Brother Peter’s face. ‘I am ashamed to say,’ he said in little more than a whisper. ‘It reflects so badly on me, on my vows, and on my Order.’

His misery was completely convincing. The leader of the three leaned forward and said to the clerks: ‘You will not record this.’ To Brother Peter he said: ‘You may speak in confidence. If I decide, nothing will go beyond these walls. But you must tell us everything. What potion did you order from the alchemist?’

Brother Peter turned his face from Freize and Luca.

‘Shall I order them from the room?’

‘They can stay. I am shamed. This is my punishment. They will think me a fool, an old fool.’

‘Tell us what you ordered, then.’

‘A love potion,’ Brother Peter said, his voice very low.

‘A love potion?’ the man repeated, astounded.

‘Yes.’

‘A man in your position? In holy orders? On a papal mission? Advising an inquirer of the Holy Father?’

‘Yes. I had fallen into sin and folly. This is why I am so ashamed. This is why this fool is trying to hide his mission. To save me from this shame.’

‘Why did you want a love potion?’

Brother Peter’s head was bowed so low that his chin was almost on his chest. The bald spot of his tonsure shone in the candlelight. He was completely wretched. ‘I was very attracted by Lady Carintha,’ he said quietly. ‘But I have no . . .’ he broke off and struggled to find the words. ‘I have no . . . manly abilities. I have no . . . vigour.’

The three magistrates were leaning forward, the clerks frozen, their pens held above the paper.

‘I thought Drago Nacari could make me a potion so that she would be drawn to me, despite herself. And if she were disposed to be kind to me – she is such a high-spirited lady – I would want to be man enough for her.’ He glanced briefly at the table of gentlemen. ‘You can ask her if I was not attracted by her, dazzled by her. She knew it. She knows well enough what she can do to a man. My fear was that I would be unable to respond.’

Two of the magistrates nodded as if they had experienced Lady Carintha’s high spirits for themselves, and sympathised with Brother Peter’s fears.

‘I have little experience with women,’ Brother Peter said, his voice a thread, his eyes on the floor. ‘Almost none. But I imagined she would want a man who could . . . who would . . . I feared that if she were to look kindly on me I would not be man enough for her.’

One of the magistrates cleared his throat. ‘Understandable,’ he said shortly.

‘I was a fool,’ Brother Peter admitted. ‘And a sinful fool. But God spared me the worst of it, for the foolish servant I sent to get the love potion was caught while he was carrying out my sinful errand. And besides, Lady Carintha has turned against all of us. She’ll never look at me again.’

‘But you knew they were coiners?’ one man persisted.