Votive (38 page)

Ezzelino Maleovelli frowned. ‘A little longer yet, cara mia. To act too swiftly will arouse suspicion, no matter how cautious we are, how careful we’ve been.’

‘And what of Lord Waterford’s curiosity? What he saw?’

Ezzelino’s eyes flew open and he sat up abruptly, almost unbalancing Giaconda. She stood up hastily, tugged her gown into order and watched as her father fumbled for his pipe. In silence he stuffed fresh tobacco into the bowl and then, picking up a candle from his desk, used the flame to light it.

Giaconda retreated to the window, watching the way the pastel hues of sunset transformed the campo. It was full of people on their way home, or paused mid-journey, enjoying conversations with old acquaintances.

Not until smoke billowed around Ezzelino’s head did he answer her. ‘We need to distract him. You need to distract him, but also find out what he suspects and what he would do with his suspicions.’

‘Molto bene. It may be that we have to bribe him.’

‘Whatever it takes …’

‘At least we’re in a position to consider that now.’

Ezzelino chuckled. ‘Our little Dorata has made sure of that. She’s exceeded all my expectations, cara. All of them.’ He held out his hand.

Giaconda took it and was drawn forward into the harbour of his thighs. She smiled softly, her eyes warm. Ezzelino’s breath caught.

‘Mine too. What that brute Giacomo did to her tamed the wild tendencies I was concerned might interfere with what we wanted. She no longer asks questions; she simply does as she’s told.’

‘Then he did us a favour.’

Giaconda laughed. ‘That’s one way to regard it, I guess.’

‘You think she’ll succeed tonight?’

Giaconda squeezed his hand and then released it. ‘Naturalmente. She always does.’

‘But this time, we move closer to the throne.’

‘Not as close as we will be –’

‘Vero. True. But we have to wait. We have to be sure –’

‘Of Tarlo?’

‘No. We have ensured her cooperation, thanks to Baroque. We put that plan in place a long time ago. I’m not worried about the Estrattore.’

‘Then of what do you need to be sure, Papa?’

‘That those I am recruiting to our way of thinking keep their promises.’

‘Ah.’ Giaconda knelt at her father’s feet and gazed up
at him. ‘And what might they be, Papa?’ She laid her head against his knees.

‘That they help us to
keep
power, cara mia. Taking it is one thing, holding onto it is harder. For with power, we also have control of not only our destiny, but that of Serenissima’s.’

‘One that includes the Estrattore?’

‘Don’t be foolish,’ he whispered as he leant over and kissed her neck.

P
RINCE
C
OSIMO
D
ANDOLO WAS A MAN WHO
, when he spoke, it was to partake in a conversation that had either not yet begun or had concluded minutes before. Ever since his son Claudio had been kidnapped over two years earlier, he’d retreated into a world that his family and fellow nobiles did not share. Sympathy, fear and a hope that he would prove to be so unstable, his claim to the throne of Serenissima would be declared invalid by the Council of Ten, meant his foibles were watched closely while those around him pretended tolerance and understanding. All the nobiles secretly wanted the Dandolo line to end – a hope they also knew was unlikely to be realised.

But they did not account for me.

Sitting beside Prince Cosimo, I noted that he did not look in my direction, or at any of his guests. He was prone to deep sighs and protracted silences for most of the night, and the rest of us ate and drank as if he was not there.

I had other men to distract me, even if it was the Prince who was paying for my services. I was accustomed to his ways. When we were alone, he did not speak much either. It was physical comfort he sought and which I provided. The arrangement suited both of us, and I was becoming a regular fixture in his rooms at the palazzo.

Tonight, there were twenty of us – myself, Giaconda and a courtesan named Zanetta di Vetro were the only women. I had met all the other men before, nobiles from all the great casas with the exception of Maleovelli. I could not help but think that must rankle, though I knew that Signor Maleovelli had left the casa before us on his way to a private card game; a game to which he also took one of my candles. We were all becoming adept at substituting our own for those that burned in the residences and public places we visited.

There were even two members of the Council of Ten among us tonight. The foreign ambassador had also become a habitual guest, not just of Prince Cosimo, but recently in the Maleovellis’ casa as well. I noted that when he visited, he spent a great deal of time with Giaconda, but also with Jacopo, and that the two appeared to have struck up a friendship. I had thought the ambassador of a different ilk; that he could befriend the likes of Jacopo made me reassess him.

Sitting by his side, Giaconda conversed with the lord easily, her gloved fingers resting lightly on his arm. The measured look that often marred his features in our presence had been, when gazing at Giaconda, replaced by another – one which I’d grown very accustomed to seeing on men’s faces.

Served a range of delicacies from a credenza that had been overlaid with a white linen tablecloth, strands of dark green ivy and statuettes of fantastic monsters, winged cherubs and beautiful women, we found that no effort had been spared. Behind this huge sideboard hung a giant tapestry that also depicted the pagan gods and goddesses, entwined around each other and sharing food while serene figures in white served them. I was constantly amazed that though the Estrattore were considered heretics, the art so often chose to depict them. The tapestry was lovely, and not
one I had seen before. My eyes were drawn to its depths, to the celebration it portrayed.

The pages scurried to provide for us, under the instruction of Cosimo’s maestro della casa. Gilded bowls of steaming soup were placed before us, followed by slices of roast meat – deer, goose and boar, carved by a man designated for this task alone – drowned in a rich brown sauce. Fritters of cheeses and tarts made of onions drizzled with carmeline sauces were also put before us. Jellies, grapes, honey-glazed figs, tiny sausages, exquisite ravioli, fish and oysters from the marshy reaches of the lagoon made their way to the table. Between courses, the linen cloth was changed, as were the plates, which were works of art in themselves.

By the time dessert was served, the men were ruddy-faced with vino. I maintained my smile and listened with as much attention as I could to the gentleman on the other side of me, Signor Bartolomeo Errizo. He was the father of Rambaldo Errizo. Whenever his son’s name was mentioned, my smile became brighter, my laughter louder. Like many of the other nobiles present, he had also entered a colleganza with the Maleovellis. It was one that was doing well for them. Unlike his son, I knew the elder Errizo was keen to see me again. For now he had served his purpose, but I made sure I kept him entertained and let him believe that it would not be long before we met in private.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Giaconda nod in my direction. It was time to prepare myself.

Touching Cosimo lightly on the sleeve, I leant over.

‘Your grace, grazie mille for such a pleasant interlude.’ I deepened my voice. ‘But I tire of having to share you with so many. Can we not be alone?’ I covered his hand, which was resting on the table, with my own. I felt him quiver.

‘Sì, Sì, Signorina Dorata.’ His vacant, sad eyes seemed to
focus as he saw me for the first time that night. ‘Ah, bella,’ He reached up and stroked my cheek. ‘I have neglected you.’ He rose to his feet, lifting me to mine as he did. ‘Signori?’

Chairs scraped back as the men rushed to stand.

‘Signorina Dorata bids you all good night.’

I fell into a deep curtsy, aware of at least seventeen pairs of eyes, plus those of the servants, on my daring décolletage.

Cosimo kissed my hand. ‘I will join you shortly.’

‘My only wish is that you were with me now,’ I responded, kissing his hand in return.

The room was silent as I departed, the maestro della casa opening the door for me, the armed guards stationed outside coming to attention. Though a high-ranking servant escorted me to the Prince’s suite, I knew the way.

Helped by two serving women to disrobe in an elegant antechamber, I bid them goodnight before I entered Cosimo’s bedroom. It was filled with the light of dozens of candles and a small fire in the grate. Two huge windows were wide open and the cool night air blew in. I stood before one and looked out over the quiet piazza towards the Grande Canal. The moon was out of sight but its beams turned the water silver. I could see the distant islands of the Arsenale and the masts of the Doge’s navy as the ships lay at anchor.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what I must now do. I went to the chair over which my dress had been draped and, from within its folds, drew out the two candles that Signor Ezzelino had instructed me to make. Crossing to the bed, I quickly removed the two existing candles from their elaborate holders and replaced them with mine, dragging them closer to where Cosimo’s head would finally lie. Then I took out the two that I’d brought without the Maleovellis’ knowledge, placing them in the wall brackets above the bed. I took away the existing ones and snuffed
them with my thumb and forefinger. I tipped the excess wax into the well of another candle, waited until the wicks had stopped smouldering and then put the candles back in the pocket of my gown.

Satisfied, I lay across the covers of the bed and waited. I tried to blank my mind, but my conscience was heavy. My only consolation was that with Cosimo gone, the way to the Dogeship was becoming clearer. Already Cosimo’s younger brother had shocked everyone by renouncing his right to the throne and eloping with a commoner – a servant. I smiled as I thought of how happy they were under the protection of the Duke of Firenze. That the emotions were induced by false means did not trouble me. I knew that their love would last, unlike many marriages. Forgoing leadership of Serenissima was a small price to pay. Plucking at the soft linen of the pillow, I was surprised at how strongly I believed that.

I thought of the colleganzas the Maleovellis had signed, the riches that the trade they had gained had given them, the profits, the security of a solid and growing reputation. No-one suspected anything. Fortuna and Signorina Dorata were how the Maleovellis’ rise was explained by nobiles and, according to Baroque, by the popolani as well.

Already, three other courtesans enjoyed the sponsorship of nobiles, much to the chagrin of their wives, their husbands insisting it was in the interests of good business.

I wondered briefly about Cosimo’s wife – the Principessa. A small woman, she had once been a beauty. Endowed with a rich family as well as naturally pale hair and a womb thought to be fertile, she’d been considered a fitting wife for the Doge’s eldest son. But the kidnap of her only son had changed her too. The sparkling, vital woman some had described to me was not the same as the one who roamed the corridors of the palazzo asking the servants if they’d seen her son. That’s how I’d encountered her, one night as
I left Cosimo’s chambers. She was shuffling along past the Doge’s rooms, a candle in her hand, calling. As I drew closer, I heard her. On seeing me, she held her light aloft and asked in a soft, frightened voice, ‘Have you seen Claudio?’

My heart had wrenched. I shook my head. Her eyes, one moment filled with hope, slid from my face and became as dark as the places she explored. She continued on her way. Five ladies in waiting, all wrapped in their nightgowns, scurried after her, some glancing at me curiously, others with envy.

Cosimo and his wife did not speak anymore. Their loss had torn them apart. It had ripped the Dandolo family asunder. Long before the Maleovellis began their plotting, there were fractures that nothing but Claudio’s return could heal. I had even heard that kind of gossip from Quinn’s customers. I knew that, in many ways, the Maleovellis were using the decline of the Dandolos’ fitness as leaders to justify their push for power. But they were not the only ones. Sensing weakness in their ranks, all the nobiles were jostling. Whoever appeared to have the power and strength to rule would be given the throne. The Dandolos’ time, no matter what I did, was over.

I shook my head.
Listen to me
.
I sounded like the Maleovellis, defending my actions
. The Dandolos were also in the pocket of the Church, I reminded myself. They were the ones who ordered Renzo killed. I shut my eyes at the memory. I drew my breath in and extracted from the scents around me. The pain fled and peace descended.

Then a thought occurred to me. I was to ensure that the Prince could never make a claim to the throne. Signor Maleovelli had suggested that I persuade him to travel, to leave Serenissima. That would render his claim redundant. No member of the royal family was allowed to leave Serenissima without the permission of the Council. To do so
was against the law – it was a serious violation of protocol. Jacopo had taught me that in one of our earliest lessons.

Sending Cosimo away would not be hard. The candles I brought tonight were infused with all the right elements so that I could place the idea in his head and he would act – swiftly. I could imagine him fruitlessly roaming the world, never understanding why, the emptiness inside him growing bigger, deeper, until one day it swallowed him. To my surprise, I felt uneasy with that. I didn’t love Cosimo; I didn’t know him well enough to feel anything but a gentle regard, but I did feel sorry for him – for him and his wife. I understood what it was like to live with a huge, gaping hole inside you. Perhaps there was something I could do to ensure that the vacuum inside him didn’t increase. One way to do that was to make sure he had a goal, something to fill the void his son had left.

Perhaps there was yet a way …

I sat up, my heart lighter than it had been for days. Of course! I breathed in the scent of the candles, testing their potency again before quickly extracting the effects from my own body. Oh, these would work. They would work well. Once again the Maleovellis would be delighted with me. Only this time I would be able to live with what I had done.

And I would make sure that Cosimo, poor, lost Cosimo, had a reason to live as well.

The door opened and the Prince appeared, loosening the neck of his grand togati. I gave him a real smile and opened my arms wide, the golden gauze falling apart and revealing my nakedness. His eyes widened and his face glowed.

‘Come, Cosimo,’ I purred.

As if in answer, the flames atop my candles brightened.