The Medieval Murderers - The False Virgin

‘Then you may call me that, but only in private. Every other time it must be Nick, or Messer Zuliani. Now, where is Querini? I was told he would be here to meet us.’

We had been standing on the quay for some time by now. Our baggage was already piled there too, and the oarsmen of our speedy Venetian galley were beginning to file off the boat. But there was no one to greet us. Each oarsman – who was a free Venetian, not a slave, as in other galleys – saluted us as he passed. The men were chosen by lot from each parish, and their families were supported by the remainder of the parish while the rowers were away carrying out their duties. We had been on our travels so long that I had got to know them individually, at least enough to recognise their faces. I saw the cocky one called Stefano, who was working off his debts. Debtors often paid off their obligations by rowing in the galleys along with oarsmen chosen by lot. He grinned at me as he passed.

We were still left waiting after the oarsmen had all gone to find their lodgings. At last the Doge’s private secretary, Bertuccio Galuppi, who had travelled with us on this long journey to the Greek island of Sifnos, came hurrying back down the quay. He had gone to see why no one was waiting for us on our arrival. As he got closer, I could see his face looked like thunder.

‘Messer Galuppi, what is wrong? Is there some delay? I do hope not, as I am quite parched, and standing in this sun is not a good idea for an old man with a thirst.’

Galuppi shook his head. ‘I fear we have a problem, Messer Zuliani.’

‘None greater than my thirst, I can assure you.’

Galuppi, who acted as though he had a rod up his arse at the best of times, bristled at my levity.

‘It is far worse than that. Niccolo Querini is… indisposed.’

‘Indisposed? That is an insufficient excuse when the Doge’s representative lands on this little excuse for an island.’

That’s me, by the way – the Doge’s representative. I’ll tell you later how Nick Zuliani, of dubious origins and shady repute, came to be occupying such an elevated post. But right then I needed to throw my weight around a little. I scowled at Galuppi.

‘Tell him that I don’t care if he’s dying of the French pox, I want him here now.’

Galuppi’s face turned puce, and he anxiously inclined his head to remind me of the presence of my granddaughter. I suppose he imagined such language should not be spoken in the presence of a lady of such tender years. Especially not one from the noble houses of Dolfin and Valier. I had no such compunction. Before I had known of her existence, Katie, dressed as a boy, had spied on me. It had been only when I turned the tables on her and grabbed her that I had felt her burgeoning tits. She had cursed me then in a language that was as robust as any Venetian sailor cursing drunkenly in a tavern in the Arsenal. Which is probably where she had learned it as the wild child she had been before I met her. I had tried my best to be a good grandfather and to put her on the straight and narrow, but to no avail. Besides, I was secretly proud of her vocabulary, and had learned a few choice expressions from her myself. I was tempted to use one or two now, but saw that it would be counter-productive with the sober-sided Galuppi. Instead, I laid an arm over his shoulder, and drew him aside.

‘Bertuccio, tell me, what has indisposed Querini?’

His stiff demeanour bent somewhat, and he leaned towards my ear to whisper into it.

‘He is dead-’

‘Dead?’ I cried. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

He shook his head vigorously. ‘No, no, not dead. Merely dead drunk. He is incoherent and sleeping it off in the tavern along the street.’

I glowered. ‘We shall see about that.’ I turned to Katie. ‘Wait here, the shipmaster will ensure no harm comes to you. I have some business to attend to.’

I saw that she was about to protest at being treated like a child. But she knew the nature of my temper, and decided to save up her complaint about her treatment for when we were in private. I had no doubt I would be called ‘grandfather’ in the frostiest of terms, but I could bear it. Rather that than she get involved in a scene with Querini that could become nasty. She sat down on one of our trunks, and rested her chin in her hand in a way that suggested she was not happy with me. I ignored her gesture and indicated that Galuppi should lead me to our drunken host.

In actual fact, Niccolo Querini was not who I was sent to meet by the Doge. The focus of my long and arduous journey from Venice around the southern coast of Greece and out into the Aegean Sea was Querini’s wife, Speranza Soranzo. Her father, Giovanni Soranzo, had earned a reputation as the hero of Aegean naval operations. He had taken twenty-five galleys up to the Black Sea and the Crimea, restoring Caffa to Venice and taking it away from the hands of the Genoese. He became Head of the Navy, and Governor of the Gulf and Islands of Venice. In 1309 he was appointed Attorney General jointly with Marco Querini, whose son, Niccolo, had married Giovanni’s daughter. All had then seemed well in Soranzo’s world.

But a year later, the Querinis became embroiled in a conspiracy to overthrow Doge Pietro Gradenigo. The plot failed – not without some conniving on my part – and Niccolo Querini and his wife were banished to Sifnos, an island belonging to the Soranzos. Now, two years on, Giovanni Soranzo had been named Doge himself, and his daughter’s life was about to change. I was on Sifnos, that aforementioned chunk of rock in the Aegean, to talk to Speranza about her return to Venice, and the terms on which it would be possible. But first I had to deal with her drunken husband.

Galuppi led me past a noisy boat-builders’ yard and down a narrow cobbled lane to a small doorway pretentiously carved in stone with a coat of arms on the lintel. I didn’t recognise the armorial bearing, but I certainly did the body inside. I had met Niccolo Querini when I had toyed with joining the plotters in the 1310 conspiracy. Then, he had been a hothead with a powerful chest and strong arms. The man slumped over the low table in the anonymous tavern had gone to seed. He had put on a lot of fat round his waist, and his once well-groomed hair was greasy and long. Clearly, Niccolo had not survived his exile well. I grabbed his unwashed locks and lifted his head off the table. He didn’t protest at the mistreatment, merely dragging one bleary eye open to see who it was who was molesting him. The solitary eye was bloodshot, but gave signs of recognition. He propped his heavy head on his palm, which allowed me to let go of his hair. Thankfully, I wiped my greasy palm on the shoulder of his tunic. When he spoke, his speech was slurred and jumbled.

‘Zulz… Zuliani. Good to see you, man. How’s things?’

I peered angrily into his one functioning eye.

‘They could be better, Querini. I have just come through a big storm that threatened to wreck my galley off the Peloponnese. Then we were attacked by pirates who could have been under the command of the Duke of Milan, for all I know. And when I arrive at Kamares, desirous of a soft bed and a roof over my head, I find my host has drunk himself silly in a cheap tavern.’

My last words were shouted right in Querini’s face. He flinched and held his head in both hands, no doubt to try to control the headache that raged within.

‘It’s not my fault, Zuliani. It’s hers.’

‘By ‘hers’ I suppose you mean your wife, the daughter of the Doge. Why is it her fault?’

Prising both eyes open, he gazed at me miserably.

‘She’s forsaken me for a monk. And now she’s gone and shut herself in a nunnery.’

His head fell to the table with a loud clunk, and I could see I would get no more sense out of him. I left Querini to bemoan his fate and asked Galuppi to make arrangements to transfer our baggage across the island to the Querini mansion in the south. He asked about a courtesy visit to the capital, Kastro, but I waved his suggestion aside. The people I needed to see were ensconced in the south and the capital of this little island was in the east. I use the word ‘capital’ advisedly. It doesn’t take much to be the biggest place on an island in the back of beyond. No, the Tou Kontou peninsula was where the Querinis were settled, and that is where I would move my household during my stay on Sifnos. Galuppi hurried off to arrange the required transport.