When Ricardo stunned me with that news, he buried his face in his hands again with a sigh of contrition. I was so surprised that I almost sat down by the chair.
Calm down.
The first thing was to protect us from prying ears. I tiptoed to the door and peered down the hall. And I wasn't even surprised to find the lovely Ines there. Her eyes were wide and innocent, the lace of her nightgown curling pathetically around her slender neck and her golden curls tumbling over her shoulders. The candle in her hand was trembling and I thought she could set her hair on fire.
“Is something wrong?" she asked. "My mother and I heard a noise. Is don Arsago back?”
“Not yet, but he's all right.”
But signor di Goro is not, I thought, but I managed to stop myself.
Let Ines sleep quietly until the morning, tomorrow the servants wouldn`t fail to inform her first. Besides, I felt an urgent need to have a heart-to-heart talk with my "brother," and I had no time to bother with the sobbing bride. That could wait until tomorrow.
Fortunately, Ines was satisfied with my explanation, and soon her white figure melted into the dark corridor. I closed the door tightly and I darted back to Ricardo.
"You did what?! Please tell me I misheard you!”
Fiddling the tablecloth and avoiding my eyes, Ricardo looked so miserable that I was torn by conflicting desires to hit him on the head with the jug or hug him.
“It was in the day when the conspirators decided to attack the Count. We all went a little crazy then, especially when we learned that one of the traitors was Bonamico di Goro, Alessandro's father. He used to support don Arsago, he was always on the Count`s right side! I really don't know what made him take the enemy`s side. I though it was just a bad dream. I remember that day was a holiday. In the morning my father and the Count went to the church. And in the evening they brought my father`s corpse back… The servant said that the elder di Goro had attacked the count like a beast, and that our father had come between them. They were friends, our father and signor Bonamico... Maybe he thought a friend wouldn't lay a hand on him... Anyway, when I heard the news, I was stone mad. I Immediately went to Alessandro and challenged him to a duel…”
I crossed my arms and waited. Ricardo slumped even more in his chair:
“That was very stupid, of course. During practice Alessandro did us single-handed. Now I understand why he refused to fight. He didn`t want to leave our family without a breadwinner.”
"Did he refuse?"
“When I got there, he looked as white as a sheet. He was shocked by his father`s betrayal. He listened to me, handed me the dagger and said I could kill him right away, as he had no right to fight me. We yelled at each other for a while, then I left and got drunk. Suddenly I had an idea: if Sandro didn't want to fight with me, I'd hire a couple of desperate guys to teach him a lesson. But later, when I sobered up a little, I changed my mind. It was dishonorable to have someone else seeth the revenge for you. I wanted to go back and cancel the deal but…”
It cost me a great deal of trouble to hold my tongue and not to fling reproaches upon him. I had to hear the rest of the story first. Though I already knew it didn't end well – I'd seen Alessandro`s scars.
“Then another thought struck me: wouldn't it be better to waylay them in the night and take Sandro`s side? I really wanted to fight with anyone. By then I had cooled off and I realized Sandro wasn't to blame…”
Oh, really! I barely restrained myself. What an amazing insight!
“So, how was it, your rendezvous?"
Ricardo hesitated, staring at the floor as if studying something beneath his feet.
"You see, that wine-merchant where I tried to drown my sorrows, had a pretty daughter… Well, I overslept. And I learnt in the morning that Alessandro fought with those men. Alone. It was a miracle he was alive. I think God took pity on me and didn`t allow that to happen! Sandro was lucky enough to get off with just a couple of scars.
His words made me silent. Lucky enough? What a horrible thing to say! Alessandro spent eternity trying to recover after that night, and that cost him superhuman effort.
"And it was all just for you revenge?" I asked quietly. Ricardo did not answer.
We sat in silence for a while, listening to the clock tick. Who on earth needs this revenge? I thought angrily. Has it changed anything? Did Ricardo's father rise from the grave because his son had maimed a close friend? Who felt better about it?
"What about you? my conscience asked harshly. "Before you judge Ricardo, think what you're doing. Don't you think your revenge will bring Beatrice Granacci back to life? Julia is far away now. Yes, it`s true that you haven`t heard from her, and that is alarming, but three weeks have passed since you escaped. Hopefully the killer won't be able to reach her anymore. Then why are you still here?”
Turning to Ricardo, who was drumming his fingers on the table, I ventured to ask:
“And what about Alessandro... does he know about that?”
My "brother" sighed again, his eyes sick, and poured himself a glass of wine. Then he pushed his glass away in disgust.
“He hasn't said a word about it in all these years.”
And after a while, he added:
"But he knows everything. I feel it."
***
The nervous sleepless night and the intense dialogue with Scarpa gave me a headache in the morning. I sat in my room with a wet towel on my forehead, thinking gloomily about what I had done. The thought that came to me after Ricardo's story settled firmly in my head.
I had nothing to do in Venetta. I could do nothing for Beatrice Granacci, and I did everything I could for Julia. After last night, revenge was no longer attractive. What difference would it make if I destroyed the life of the Count Arsago? Even if he was guilty (and I wasn`t so sure about it now), I would only hurt the unfortunate Countess, accustomed to hide behind her husband`s back. And I would ruine Ricardo and don Sacketti`s business, who had business with Arsago`s house. I would deprive Venetta of a sensible ruler…
Last night was the first time I'd used my power to kill, and I didn't like it. The sea responded to my anger with such eagerness that frightened me a lot. Sisters were right when they taught us that the gift of chiamata was changing us. Every time we meditated in the crypt, we let the sea into our heads. And it got closer each time, step by step, until you wake up a different person. Not even a person − a cold-blooded predator, like those that live in the depths of the sea.
I reminded myself ironically that I had actually come to Venetta to prevent greedy dignitaries from using my gift for their own ends, and yesterday I had willingly intervened in political intrigue. If don Arsago had known, he would have been happy.
In general, the idea of escaping with Pulcino now seemed more and more tempting. I'd write Ricardo a letter. I`d explain everything. I could imagine how angry he'd be when he found out about Julia and me. I'd rather be on the other side of the Long sea then!
Yes, it was necessary to make sure they wouldn`t find the letter before I escaped. Otherwise I risked to be executed. Maybe Ricardo would realize later that I had taken all the risks Julia had been supposed to take – during that trick with paurozo, for instance, or when I nearly got killed. He might even feel sorry for me, as he did for Alessandro yesterday. But it wouldn`t do me much good then!
The letter-box stood on the table beside Donna Assunta's carved chest. Just looking at it made me feel scraped-out. I pushed the box out of sight.
I wished I could say goodbye to Alessandro... When I was gone, the others would explain everything to him for me. I would be considered a criminal, an impostor. Would he be able to keep his feelings for the girl who had been deceiving him for so long? I was tempted to write another letter, but I managed to stop. It was better for Alessandro to stay away from me. At least until I figured out what to do with my magic. He had enough risk of his own, not to mention the last night.
To my relief, doctor Faletrus solemnly assured that Alessandro wounds were not so dangerous. At dawn I caught him just as he was about to go for a nap.
"Don't worry, Julie," he muttered wearily, yawning in my face. “ I bet signor di Goro will be up again in two days, if he has the good sense to rest himself and lie down. I`ve never seen such a restless patient! I`ve scarcely finished bandaging him when he decided accompany the Count to search for those murderers! I had to give him a sleeping pill, so don't make any noise near his room, please.”
Releasing the doctor's sleeve, I obediently tiptoed away from the bedroom.
Don Arsago had indeed burst into activity. His energy was admirable as he had made the port officials to equip a flotilla of boats to smoke the criminals out of the lagoon. He`d even sent an exasperated petition to the Doge to strengthen the night watch and stirred up the Council by making an angry speech. In response, don Soranzo immediately went down with another attack of illness, and the other senators waited expectantly.
The news of the night's incident instantly spread through the city. People were excited, but nothing more. That kind of night attacks were common in Venetta. Usually several weeks later a corpse of some unfortunate man fell into the Orphano canal, where it was swept up by the current and carried away into the vast turquoise grave of the Long sea. But don Arsago was a well-known man in the city, he belonged to one of the oldest patrician family, so the attempt on his life was met with an unprecedented response. It was the talk of the day in the Piazzetta, the markets, and the little campo. The fishermen, going out for their morning fishing, peered keenly into the fog for a glimpse of a boat with three desperate bravos. In the evening Guido, who was temporarily replacing signor di Goro, ran off his feet trying to collect all the denunciations, for the three scoundrels were seen literally everywhere, and every man felt it his duty to inform us of it. The night killers had been seen in the market throng on Rivoalto and in the tar-smelling docks of the Arsenal. Some claimed that the bravis had taken refuge in the Church of San Salvator, where, according to the tradition, any criminal could receive absolution by simply reciting a prayer to the Holy Mother of God.
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Bianca and I learned about that from Matteo, the young guard I had often seen with Alessandro. Worried about his patron's health, he spent all day trying to find business closer to home.
Bianca and I were sitting on the balcony, admiring the contrast between the bright red roofs and the purple sunset sky. I tried not to look at the part of the sky where the lemon-yellow moon was peeking through the transparent wisps of clouds that looked like ragged muslin. Tomorrow would be a full moon. There was a distinct sound from the sea, like the heavy breathing of an angry man. The conversation with Bianca gave me a little distraction from the calling voices, from the mocking look of the moon, and from the prolonged cries of the gulls, that seemed to mourn my own fate... Until the guard came, we were talking about Ines, who had not left her room all day.
"Joanna said she had been crying all day," Bianca said dispassionately. “I don't like it. A person with clear conscience will not pray and bow all day long!”
Matteo came in, so we had to change the subject. The young man was quite out of breath, running all day around town in his tunic of thick cloth. His dark curly hair was damp with sweat. Matteo gratefully accepted the glass of water and the two unleavened cakes Bianca had given him.
“A whole day to waste!” he exclaimed as he swallowed the first cake in one gulp. “Although, it would seem, everyone is trying to help us! But their testimony only makes matters worse... The devil itself must have dragged these panteganas right to the bottom of the lagoon!”
Having told us the news and refreshed himself, Matteo hurried on with his business again. By the way, his last assumption sounded quite reasonable. I didn`t dare to call Scarpa again, and he hadn`t shown himself yet. Anyway, our meetings cost me too much. Compared to his predatory ethos, the Count guards as innocent as little ladybirds.
***
The night covered the city with a damp, dark blanket. She hung a cool mist over the canals, muffled the sounds, calmed the heated heads, giving us a long-awaited rest from the bustle of the day. However, I was not up to rest. Despite all the worries of the last few days, I could not sleep.
The moon, now in its full shape and force, now looked like a bowl filled to the brim with cold light. It seemed its rays could even penetrate through the walls. They pierced through my closed eyelids, awakening the hidden traits of my nature, which I wanted to hide from everyone, including myself. The moonlight was so bright that I didn`t need to light the candles when I finished my letter to Ricardo. I sanded the last lines and waited for the ink to dry. Then, folding the sheet in four, I wrote the name of the addressee on the front side, dripped melted sealing wax and gently pressed the seal.
Tomorrow I would ask Matteo to give this letter to Ricardo. My pretended brother would be busy all day at the Council with don Sacketti and other supporters of the Count, so that Matteo wouldn`t reach him until the evening. Plenty of time to disappear. Everything was ready to escape. A man's dress, bought at the market, was wrapped in linen and hidden at the bottom of the chest. The money was counted twice and put in a purse. By my reckoning, it should have been enough to get me to Ariminum, where I expected to find Julia and make sure she was all right.
Opening the lid of the box, I carefully placed the letter on top of my aunt`s precious colored glass bottles. Smooth glass sides gleamed mysteriously in the depths. For the hundredth time I wondered why Assunta had suddenly decided to give me the box. I didn`t think she decided even recognized me at all the last time we met as she called me Melina… No, she said “Mela”. Once again, I saw her haggard, waxen face on the pale sheets in front of my eyes, felt the smell of medicine and disease. I would take that painful memory with me when I left Venetta as a punishment for my self-sufficiency.
As I relived the scene, my fingers idly stroked the bulging figures of birds carved into the sides of the box. Sitting on the branches of a pomegranate tree, birds pecked at its fruit. By the way, "Mela" meant “apple” in the old language. And the box itself looked really old. Such boxes were often used to store family secrets. What if...?
I lit the candle and studied the box. I took out all the bottles, tapped the bottom. I found nothing, but it seemed to me that the inside of the box was less capacious than its outer dimensions. So there must be another compartment at the bottom!
But for Assunta's hint, I would never have found It among the patterns! After examining all the figures carved on the sides, I accidentally pushed a pomegranate apple into the beak of a bird and – click! the part which I had thought was the bottom of the box, suddenly moved forward. There was something white in it. A letter? With my hands trembling, I grabbed and opened it. It was addressed to Julia.
"My dear girl, I wish I could comfort you with good news about our case…”
That small careful handwriting was familiar to me. Beatrice Granacci. Julia sometimes read aloud the whole passages from her letters, which came to the convent every week. Listening to her, I smiled in my head, happy for my friend. Their relationship with mother seemed to me so wonderful, full of cheerful tenderness, warmth and trust. They were marred only by one circumstance: Enrique Arsago`s matchmaking and the persistence of his father.
"...as the Count continues to persist in his desire to see you as his daughter-in-law, I am ready to bless you for an act that under other conditions would be considered unacceptable. But I beg you, dear daughter, to refrain from rash steps at least until my next letter! I hope I will be able to settle the case. Tomorrow I'm going to meet with him…»
Evidently Beatrice was doing her best to save her daughter from a hateful marriage. However, she hadn't had time to send the letter. The meeting she mentioned had ended tragically for her.
I rubbed my hands over my tired eyes and tried to collect my thoughts. Assunta must have found the letter in donna Beatrice's papers, sorting them out after her death. When I came to Venetta, my aunt did not give it to me, because she suspected me of being an impostor. Why had she finally changed her mind? Had she read the letter or had she suspected the murderer? I would never know that.... Had her sympathy for me (or her niece) outweighed the benefits the Granacci family would have got from that marriage?
I could only guess. But most importantly, now I knew for sure the name of the person donna Granacci had seen the night before she suddenly died. I jumped up and threw the letter away in disgust. She greeted him as if he were a dear guest – and he offered the poor woman a glass of poison in return! Because, she dared to interfere with his plans!
I leaned heavily against the window, my cheek pressed against the soft velvet curtain. Anger was filling my chest like a heavy tide. If only I could have my revenge! To summon here all who-live-under-the-waves, those whose names people were afraid to say, who poisoned dreams with heavy visions, making their hearts fill with helplessness and terror... Oh, I could fill this house to the brim with fear! Again, like last night, I could feel my hands itching. The moon, which had been watching me warily with its owlish eyes, suddenly darkened and turned threateningly red. I could hear the sea beating impatiently in the distance. Tonight was the night to open the way for the sea to the city.
Revenge is a dangerous weapon that can't be controlled, I reminded myself sternly. And it hits hardest at those who are innocent! I thought of Matteo on the dock, Alessandro, Bianca, and Ines sleeping in their beds, and my resolve faded.
Julia always said that if you were up to something, do it right away. Long reflection was able to undermine any idea, as sea-water waves wore away the stone walls…
Not daring to turn to the sea, I suddenly felt the call myself. The sense of someone else's presence was crystal clear, like the bell sound at the clock of dawn. Surprised, I was all ears. By the way, yesterday, before Ricardo's return, someone was hanging around our walls! Who was there? Had Scarpa come to claim his debt? But most of all I was struck that the unknown tried to call me by name! My real name, given at birth, which no one knew here, in Venetta. I'm here, I answered softly in my head as chiamaties did. At the same moment a warning cry rang out from somewhere in the house.
***
A sharp scream in the night nearly made me tumble out the window. What happened? A fire? Rushing to the door, I pressed my ear to it, but all I heard was the creaking of the floor in the next room. Someone must have woken up there, too. The corridor was pitch dark. The screams came from the other side of the house.
“Julia?” I heard a whisper.
I immediately pressed my back against the wall, holding my dagger in front of me – my tiny ridiculous weapon!
"Someone broke into the house. Please, stay in your room and don't let anyone in.”
Damn him, he scared me to death! As I got used to the darkness, I could only make out the light spot of the shirt and the whites of the eyes, but I would have recognized that confident, husky voice from a thousand. It was Alessandro. The light spot slid toward the stairs and faded into the darkness. Pricking up my ears, I heard the faint rustle of a sword coming out of its scabbard.
I was longing to call Pulcino, to make that blackness contrast and feel strong and free again! Now I was helpless and alone with my blindness. But tonight was a special night when magic was best left untouched. I remembered the feeling when the peaceful magic in me suddenly turned into a bloodthirsty predator, ready to kill everyone around me.
Moving along the wall, I wanted to return to the room as Alessandro had asked, when someone`s hand clamped over my mouth, making my heart leap! I jerked, trying to kick the person. The smell surprised me. It smelled of ink and old books and a little of oil from the lantern that was burning on the balcony. It was Bianca.
“Hush, it`s me,” she whispered, tugging at my sleeve.
We slipped into the nearest room and closed the door quietly, careful not to creak the old loop. Here, too, it was as dark as a cave. But I could feel someone else's light breathing. A dark silhouette was seen against the window, framed by the pale moonlight. Long blond curls, a dull sheen of silk on the sleeves... Ines! So she was here, too!
– What are you two doing here? Why are you wandering around the house at night?” I whispered as Bianca pulled me to the window. Her face, emerged from the gloom like a white moon.
“We didn't know anyone was going to break in tonight. Let's just say we had a small conversation here.”
From below we could hear shouts, noise and the clank of iron. Ines turned abruptly to the window. I thought that the conversation with Bianca, if it really had taken place, had given her little pleasure. What was going on here at night? Both girls looked like cats caught off guard.
The shouts outside took on a triumphant tone.
“I think they caught someone there,” I said.
No, they didn`t. No one was going to explain anything to women, but as far as I could tell, the thieves were trying to get into the house and the guards just scared them off. Someone was unhappy with such a result. Standing at the top of the stairs, I watched people flock into the spacious hall, hastily lit by torches. The guards' iron cuirasses glittered, and Alessandro's white shirt flashed among them.
"Gone!” a tall guard − Guido, if I`m not mistaken − shook his fist in the air in annoyance. "He jumped into the water and was gone! But I recognized him! Cross my heart, that was that damn lutenist Manriolo!”
I saw Alessandro's face change as he heard that. He frowned and didn`t say a word. The others fell silent too as the Count appeared in the hall. The strict modest cut of his crimson doublet made his shoulders even wider, and his massive head was held high. He radiated as much authority as the Doge in his gold robes.
"Forget that rascal!" don Arsago's sonorous voice echoed down the hall. "Let the morrays kill him!"
The men laughed. Hiding behind one of the pillars that supported the gallery, I admired the Count and hated him fiercely at the same time. To be sure, don Arsago was an excellent leader for his people. He clapped them on the shoulder, thanking them for their service, he knew how to find a right word that made every person feel particularly flattered. I saw the faces of the guards bloom, ready to go to the ends of the earth for him. Poor fellows. They did not suspect that Arsago would have sacrificed every one of them without hesitation, if it had been in his interest, just as he had done to donna Beatrice…
He's not a man, I thought angrily, he's some kind of siege ram that just happened to reincarnate in human form!
In the meanwhile, the Count noticed Alessandro in the crowd of men.
“Why are you here?” he exclaimed. “So. Where`s Faletrus?”
The shy figure of the doctor appeared at once.
“What did I tell you?" Arsago came at him like a thundercloud. "Take the patient and don't let me see him again until he's fully recovered. No objections!” he turned to his restless captain who was about to protest. “I need you healthy! We'll deal with the killers ourselves. And maybe, as in the case of Manriolo, the sea itself will help us…”
He looked up as he spoke – and I shrank back behind a pillar to avoid his gaze. But I caught the look of triumph that lit up his face. Don Arsago looked like a master who had started a complicated machine and now was enjoying its work. Like a puppeteer in a theater, and we were all just small puppets in his hands.
At that moment I got really scared.