S. Parris - The Secret Dead

“You know that is a lie,” I said, quietly. “He meant tosilence her all right. She must have told him she was with child.”

He brought his hand down hard on the table. “The businessis done now, Bruno. There is no evidence that she was ever here.”

“Did he ask you to help dispose of her?” My voice soundedsmall and uncertain in the thick silence of the dispensary. “Did he know whatyou were going to do?” With every question, I was unpicking the fine thread oftrust that existed between me and Gennaro, but I could not stop myself. Iwanted the truth. He had brought me into that room with her corpse last night;I felt it was the least he owed me. A sigh rattled through him, and he leanedback against the workbench as if he needed support.

“Donato came to me in a blind panic last night, shaking allover. He told me what I just told you — that this young woman had come to thegate, demanding to talk to him. He had taken her into the lemon grove, awayfrom prying eyes, and they had argued, he grabbed her by the throat, she fellto the ground. He claimed he thought she had merely passed out — he wanted meto go with him to see if I could revive her.”

I made a scornful noise. “He must have known she was dead.”

“Well, he was in no doubt as soon as I saw her. He was onthe verge of hysteria — he was begging for my help. She could not be discoveredinside the walls, obviously. Our only option was to move the body as far fromSan Domenico as possible before anyone noticed her missing.”

“But you decided to cut her up first.”

His eyes slid coldly over me. “It was not my firstintention — though I knew it would greatly lessen any chance of the conventbeing implicated if her body were made unrecognizable. It was only when hementioned that they had argued over her threat of a paternity suit …” Hetrailed off, tracing one finger along the grain of the table’s surface.

“You saw an opportunity that some of the leading anatomistsin Europe would sell their own souls for.” I thought of the embryo, silent andtransparent in its jar.

That cold sheen in his eyes intensified; he pointed afinger toward me. “Do not be so quick to judge, Giordano Bruno. The advance ofknowledge demands a certain ruthlessness. It is a quality I do not doubt youpossess yourself, though you have not yet fully discovered it. I told Donato thatif he would help me move the body to the storeroom, I would see to it that she wasnot found anywhere near San Domenico. He was greatly relieved, I think, to haveshifted the problem on to someone else’s shoulders.”

I said nothing, but I could not look at him. Gennaro foldedhis arms across his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was kinder.

“The only accusations that can harm us now are coming fromyour own conscience, which you must learn to silence, or you will put us all injeopardy. She is no longer your business. Do not give me cause to repent of mybelief in you, Bruno.”

I lifted my head and met his gaze. In his stern expression,I saw anger tempered by a fatherly concern. I had thought I was being tested,to see how much I was prepared to risk in the pursuit of knowledge. Now I feltdeceived; this had not been about the advance of science at all. What we haddone was all in the service of protecting a murderer and the name of SanDomenico. A murderer who might one day be the head of the most powerfulreligious house in Naples. I wished bitterly that I had never thought to followFra Gennaro last night. Not that my ignorance would have changed anything, butI would have been spared the weight of this guilt.

From beyond the window, the chapel bell struck a long, lownote.

“You had better get yourself to Matins,” he said. Hereached a jar down from a cabinet to his right, unstoppered it, and pulled outone of the ginger and honey balls he kept for throat complaints in winter. “Here.Take one of these — I can smell the tavern on your breath. And Bruno …” hecalled, softly, as I opened the door. I turned, expectant.

“Remember your oath.”

I nodded. But I also remembered my promise to Maria.

** *

At first light, shortly after Lauds, I crept out of my cellagain and crossed the gardens to the lemon grove. I scoured the ground,fancying I could see here or there in the parched earth and scrubby grass somesign of a struggle, but there was nothing conclusive. Nothing to say that thegirl had ever set foot here. I searched among the trees for almost half an hour,in vain. Gennaro had deftly ignored my question about jewelry; perhaps he haddisposed of the girl’s locket in case it should identify her, or perhaps he hadnever seen it. A necklace chain could easily be broken if you were fighting offa pair of strong hands around your throat.

The bells had just rung for Prime when the sun slipped outfrom behind its veil of cloud and I caught a metallic glint at the foot of atwisted trunk. I knelt and fished out from among the dried stalks a chain witha gold pendant. An oval, about the size of a large olive, faced with exquisitefiligree work and a finely wrought figure of the crucified Christ on the front.I wondered if the girl’s father had made it. The chapel bell sounded itssonorous note again, and I glanced up to see Fra Donato crossing thegrove toward me in rapid strides. With his bright hair lit by the early morningsun, he looked like a painting of the newly risen Christ, if Christ had everglared at someone as if he wanted to burn them alive with his eyes. I barelyhad time to slip the locket inside my habit and stand, hands folded demurelyinto my sleeves, to greet him.

“Brother. Pax vobiscum .”

“What are you doing here, Fra Giordano? Shouldn’t you be atprayer?” He had no authority over me, except that afforded by seniority andbirth, though he addressed me as if he were the prior himself. His cold blue gazeswept over the lemon trees and seemed to comprehend the scene in a glance. Hehad come in search of the locket too, I was certain.

“I am praying, Brother. I felt moved to speak to Godhere among the trees, where I can meditate on the wonders of Creation.”

“Perhaps you should have joined the Franciscans.” He left apause. “Do you know, they say you are the most promising scholar San Domenicohas seen in a generation.”

I shrugged. “They do not say so in my hearing.”

“Well, of course not,” he said. “They would not want toprovoke you to the sin of pride.” He tilted his head to one side. There was anintensity in the way he held my eye that made me understand why a woman mightfall under his spell. That and the remarkably fine features, the bones thatlooked as if they had emerged from a sculptor’s vision of an archangel. “I hearyou have a prodigious memory too.”

I made a noncommittal movement with my head. “It serves.”

“That is a great gift,” he said, as if he were granting mea rare concession. “But even with your powers of memory, Brother, certainthings are best forgotten. That scene in the tavern, for instance. A woman whobelieves I slighted her sister or some such thing. Women do not take well tofeeling scorned, you know. It can quite turn their wits. They will say terriblethings in their fury.”

“I barely recall it,” I said.

He gave me a sliver of a smile. “Good. It’s just that Ithought you went out after her.”

“No, Brother,” I said, composing my expression into one ofperfect sincerity. “I had been unwell. I went out because I felt sick andneeded air.”

He was watching me carefully, I knew. “Well, I hope yourhealth is improved,” he said, in a lighter tone. “We had better not be late forPrime. They also say you show a particular aptitude for your Hebrew studies,”he added, as I turned toward the path. I stopped, remembering his insult toMaria. Was he insinuating something? “A surprising aptitude,” he repeated. “Almosta natural fluency, apparently. Is there Hebrew blood in your family, FraGiordano?”