Pip Vaughan-Hughes - The Vault of bones

Pietro Querini stared at the paper, mouth working, pride and avarice striving in the muscles of his face. Avarice won, as I suspected it might. He crossed himself.

'Nicholas is in his chambers’ he said. 'The door is locked.'

'And you have one of the keys’ I prompted him, for I knew he must. He drew out a great ring and selected a slender key from the many that hung there, detached it and held it out to me.

‘I had no part in any of this’ he muttered. 'Do you hear me, Zeno?' he demanded, louder now, and I shushed him. 'I would not have any stain upon this abbey’ he cried and, with an oath not often found upon the lips of abbots, he thrust himself down the stairs past Letice and the soldier, and was gone in a clattering of leather soles.

We climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, but when we reached the top, Zeno stopped me.

What did you do to him?' he demanded under his breath.

'My dear sir, I am afraid I bribed him’ I replied. 'But do not worry. I have the pope's blessing.'

'This way’ Letice interrupted, perhaps fearing that I was about to be throttled. She set off down a plain whitewashed corridor with doors lining one side, windows the other. At the end was a narrower passageway, and at the end of that, a door. My two companions paused and looked at me. I held up the key, and Zeno nodded. He loosened his sword in its scabbard, and let his cloak fall lightly over it. I slid the key into the lock, thanking the Lord of Thieves that it had been newly greased, and turned it. As soon as the hasp clicked I lifted the latch and put my weight against the door.

Nicholas Querini was standing by the window. He turned towards us, an indignant question starting from his mouth, which turned into a snarl when he saw who had burst in upon him. It was a meaty, bestial sound, and I saw then what I had not remembered: that Querini was a meaty and powerful man, a brawler. I fumbled for my knife, but as I did so, Giustiniano Zeno strode past me, sword straight out at the end of his arm, and in two strides the tip of the blade was resting upon Querini's breastbone.

'Nicholas Querini, by authority of the Republic of Venice, I am…'

'Jean de Sol?' came a voice from the other side of the room. 'Monsieur de Sol?'

I looked around. Querini's chambers were hardly monastic. There were two glass-paned windows, a Moorish rug, chairs, and a large and comfortable bed. A table was covered in dirty silver platters and the remains of a fine luncheon, and dice and chess-pieces were scattered about. In the-corner of the room, next to a large black chest, a young man sat upon a stool. He was just getting to his feet, and I saw, with enormous relief and a pang of disdain, the smooth, slack visage of Baldwin de Courtenay, Emperor of Romania. He looked angry.

'No’ I said gently. 'I am not Jean de Sol. Your Majesty, I am Petroc of Auneford, and I bring you news of Constantinople, and the loving words of your subjects’

'How… how dare you? I remember you now: de Sol's associate! Did you kill Fulk? Or Gautier? Nicholas, they have come for me! You said they would, and they have…'

'It was Querini who killed your men, Your Majesty’ I told him. And he abducted your royal person.'

Abducted, you say?' cried the emperor with as much disdain as he could. 'I am here as a guest of Venice. Or rather…' He looked confused. As surety for a loan?' I enquired.

Yes, that is right! I… I offered to stay here while Nicholas settled my Regent's debts to the Republic. And the Serenissima has been most kind.'

'Sire, you are a prisoner. Nicholas Querini intends you and your empire nothing but harm. And your Regent is a scoundrel, but… but Querini can tell you of that.'

Zeno had lowered his sword, but he had taken the liberty of disarming Querini, whose long, thin knife glinted in the soldier's belt. Querini, however, was not paying the slightest regard to Zeno. Rather, he had stepped back so that he leaned against the window frame, and his eyes were fixed upon Letice. 'Surprised to see me, Nicholas?' she asked. 'Thought I would be dashed to pieces by Dardi's love, I suppose?' 'Dardi?' said Querini, carefully. 'Dead, alas’ I said. 'He fell out of a window.' Querini turned to me. 'But you will be delighted to hear that Jean de Sol lives! Oh yes, he waits in Ravenna, waits to pick the last shreds of pride from your bones’ 'Petroc,' said Letice, warning me.

'My bones?' said Querini, scornfully. 'I doubt that! I have done nothing.'

You have…' My hand was on my knife and I was shuddering with rage. I had him, here, at my mercy: Anna's destroyer. But then I remembered Facio, and how he had gasped and kicked, as Anna had done, and my gorge rose. 'No,' I shouted, shaking the images from me. 'Done nothing? You have killed a princess, and kidnapped an emperor!' I pointed to Baldwin, who was standing, open-mouthed.

'He is my guest,' said Querini. 'Is it not so, Your Majesty?'

'I have been living here while Nicholas has been paying off my debts,' said Baldwin, happy to have lines to speak.

'Do you say that to Querini's friends, who come here masquerading as officials of the Republic?' I asked. 'Do not trouble yourself: we are not his friends; we are yours. You are free to leave, Your Majesty. You do not have to remain here, while this man, your friend, twines himself like a basilisk about your empire, sequestering its little treasures for himself.' 'Treasures?' asked Baldwin. What new trick is this?' 'Trick? Why should it be a trick?'

'Because people come here and ask me things! Ask me to sign things. I have not. I will not! I have been locked in this room for months! I have been here since the summer, I think – although I am not certain. Nicholas… this swine Querini, for I would have you, sir, place your blade upon his breast again, and the monks, the poxy, bloody monks of this place have made me a prisoner.'

You have been a captive since Rome’ I said. 'Now what is in that chest, Your Majesty?'

'I… I do not know. It is locked. I… good sir, do not be angry.'

'I would not presume to be angry with you, Your Majesty.' I paused. 'I am sorry about Fulk de Grez, and Gautier. They were good men.'

'My brave friends’ whispered Baldwin, and covered his eyes. 'I know, sir, by the way you look at me, that you think me a fool, and a boy, and a knave. I am no knave! And no fool neither, though I am young. If I am a fool, it is because I have gone mad stripping my empire, my birthright, of everything of worth, that I may save it from the Infidel and the Greek! Stripped it, as I have stripped, with my own hands, the wood from the buildings of my own city so that my people will have warmth! I…'

The Emperor was trembling, and tears were running freely down his face. I noticed what I had not seen at first, that he was very thin, and there were heavy shadows beneath his eyes.

'Have you been ill-treated, Your Majesty?' asked Zeno, gravely.

'Ill? What is ill? I have been a hostage, a hostage to my own fortune’ he answered, half-choked with tears. 'I have had the saving of Constantinople dangled before me, and my good behaviour as security for it.' 'How?' asked Letice, coming to my side.

'Fair lady, I have been promised that business was being conducted on my behalf, under the aegis of the Holy Father himself, to bring some great affair to a head’ said Baldwin. 'Sometimes it is a crusade, sometimes a fortune in loans, in gifts. There have been letters, from the pope, from my royal cousins…' he waved at a much crumpled, much reread heap of parchments and vellums under the table. They would all be bad forgeries, I knew at once. 'But nothing has been forthcoming. I mean, I have not been ill-treated, if you do not consider exile to a shitten little island all full of monks to be ill treatment.'

Your Majesty! Have I not kept you supplied with companions?' said Querini, with feigned hurt.