The Medieval Murderers - The Deadliest Sin

Theodore grunted, and seemed reluctant to reply. But his friend George had no such inhibitions.

‘You mean would a Genoan trader threaten Panaretos with violence to keep the concessions?’

I nodded. ‘That is indeed what I am asking.’

Before George could reply, Theodore broke in on our conversation. From the rustling of cloth, I guessed he had put a cautionary hand on his friend’s arm. His question to me came in a strained tone of voice.

‘Do you know something we don’t, sir? For if you do, and it affects a servant of the Emperor, I suggest you raise it with the authorities.’

The moment for confidences had passed, and I imagined I was not going to get much more gossip in the circumstances. A strained silence hung in the air, and I stretched the stiffness out of my legs. I was glad that it was not long before Philip returned, and I rose, thanking my interlocutors for their time. Their mumbled replies were in stark contrast to their former pleasure in meeting me. As I walked away with my hand on Philip’s arm – I was not certain of the path in this new part of Trebizond – I reminded him of his task concerning the palimpsest.

‘Have you examined the parchment with the threat on it more closely yet?’

‘Oh, yes, I did, master. I took the opportunity of the bright sunlight this morning to hold it up against the sun.’

‘And what did you see?’

‘There was some writing underneath the words of the threat that were impossible to make out. But as the message was quite short, there was enough blank space to decipher what had been scraped away.’

Either Philip was drawing out the conclusion in sheer delight at his cleverness, or was too stupid to know when he was annoying me. I stopped him, and turned my most fierce gaze on him. I know that it perturbed him, as he was never sure if I was truly blind or not.

‘Come to the point, Philip.’

He stumbled to correct his error.

‘Sorry, Master Falconer. The original parchment was a letter from someone whose name I could not make out, but the recipient’s name was clear. It was definitely addressed to Messer Finati, the Genoan trade delegate.’

I smiled at having cornered the sender of the threat so easily. In fact, it had been so easy that I was a little suspicious. What if one of the other delegates had laid their hands on a perfectly innocent message addressed to Finati, and concocted the anonymous message in order to cast opprobrium on the Genoan? Philip’s thinking was not so convoluted, and he was eager to act on his discovery.

‘Shall we tell Master Panaretos?’

I wasn’t in such a hurry, and recommended caution.

‘No. Let us observe all three for a while longer. It is not as if Panaretos’ life is really under threat.’

How wrong my casual statement proved to be.

In another few days, spring eased into summer and the blossom drifted off the cherry and pear trees, scattering on the ground. The Imperial court made its annual pilgrimage from the citadel to the monastery of Panagia Khrysokephalos and thence to the St Sofia monastery beyond the western ravine. We witnessed the passage of the Emperor, and Philip described his appearance in detail to me, right down to the strings of pearls that depended from his golden crown.

On taking another trip to the Meidan, my young companion encountered Panaretos’ Circassian wife, who was also out shopping for tempting foodstuffs.

‘Look who I have found, master.’

His speech took no account of my infirmity, but on this occasion I needed no eyes to tell to whom he was referring. The scent of patchouli oil was enough. I rose from the bench on which I was sitting, and bowed low.

‘Mistress Baia, I am honoured by your presence.’

I heard the swish of her silken robe, which I knew she wore in the Trapezuntine style – narrow and close-fitting. The slight hesitation in her speech suggested that she was a little embarrassed at Philip’s apparent insistence that she speak to me. Therefore I filled the gap with mindless chatter for a while.

‘Tell me what you are preparing for your husband today. What delicacies have you purchased at the market?’

I heard the rustling of produce in her basket, which must have been held by a female servant, for I could detect another scent in the air. But this one was a sort of scrubbed, plain aroma proper to a slave. Besides, I knew that a lady of Baia’s status would not venture out alone. When she spoke, her voice was low and sonorous.

‘I have dates and figs and raisins. And the makings of jellies, for my husband has a sweet tooth and likes red and yellow ones. So I have sandalwood for the first, and saffron for the second sort. Of course, I start every meal with subtleties made of sugar. Johannes would be angry if I didn’t.’

She hesitated again, knowing she had said something about their relationship that should not have been revealed.

‘But tell me, sir, have you discovered who sent the message that so troubled him?’

Wishing, I think, to impress the Circassian beauty, Philip started to blurt out the truth of the matter, but I interrupted quickly.

‘We have made some progress, but there is a long way to go yet. Perhaps we could call in on Panaretos and discuss the matter further with him.’

‘Oh, indeed, sir. You are welcome at any time.’ I sensed a little smile in her voice. ‘And I can always accommodate your appetite, for my husband is fond of his food and always has a plentiful supply. In fact, when he is anxious – as he is now – he is inclined to eat even more than usual. It is my pleasure to see that he is not displeased in such circumstances.’

‘Good. Then, if we may, we will come this evening and inform Panaretos what we have discovered so far.’

Baia mumbled her shy acquiescence, and the scent of patchouli oil drifted away from me across the square.

The meal that evening was a simpler affair than the banquet we had been provided with the last time we were in Panaretos’ house. But it was delicious nevertheless. It was clear that his wife had made a great effort to present us with Circassian delicacies, beginning with a delicious round of Circassian cheese, which was moist and tasty. I complimented Baia on her selection, but Panaretos merely grunted and demanded something more substantial. Philip spoke little, and I wondered if he was tongue-tied in the presence of Baia’s obvious beauty. The next course was made up of two stews of chicken and turkey in a mouth-watering sauce made of garlic and red peppers. With the appearance of meats, Panaretos was mollified, if not silenced, for the sound of his slurping became quite disconcerting. Though both I and Philip demurred at the next dish – apparently some sort of Italian pasta parcels filled with beef – Panaretos continued his gourmandising. Inevitably, the jellies that Baia had planned followed before we retired to Panaretos’ private domain. Through a barrage of not-so-discreet burps, he enquired finally if we had found out who had threatened him.

‘There is no simple answer to that, I am afraid to say. I could tell you through whose hands the parchment has passed, but that is no guarantee that it was written by those same hands.’

Panaretos was not satisfied by my response, and insisted I name the source of the parchment.

‘The original document must have passed through the warehouse of the Genoans, though I still have my suspicions that either Belzoni or Ricci may have made use of the palimpsest to cause Finati trouble. More investigation is required. Tell me, have you had any more death threats?’

Panaretos ignored my last enquiry, brushing it aside with a desultory wave of his hand. Instead, he chose to pick on the name of the man he had suspected all along.

‘Finati! I knew it. The Genoans think they can gain further concessions at the click of their fingers. They think me a dog who will sit up and beg if I am beaten hard enough. Well, they have a lesson to learn, and I will teach it them. They have already refused the Emperor’s customs officials the right to inspect their stocks, and keep their warehouse locked and barred against us. Now they threaten a high official of the Emperor with death. I must report this to-’