The Medieval Murderers - The False Virgin

‘What was that, girl? Your grandpa is getting deaf in his old age.’

She laughed. ‘I don’t think so. You’re as sharp as that knife you carry at your waist.’

I touched my favourite dagger instinctively, and Katie carried on.

‘I said let me approach Brother Hugh as a possible convert to St Beornwyn. I can then find out more about him, and about Speranza.’

I scrubbed at my beard, worried about what my granddaughter might get herself into. However, it was a sound proposition.

‘I suppose it’s not a bad idea. After all, you are young and virginal.’

I thought I saw a blush emerge on her throat, just for a moment. She coughed delicately.

‘It’s certainly true I’m young enough to remember what virginity is like.’

I guessed she could see the storm brewing in my look, because she quickly held up her hand.

‘Don’t even ask, Grandpa. That’s a girl’s secret, and not even her future husband has a right to know the truth.’

I was about to say it surely was his right to know if his bride was a virgin or not, but I stopped myself. How times must have changed since I left Venice for the distant lands of Kublai Khan. And I had to remind myself that I had left behind in Cathay a black-haired, dark-skinned beauty, who had been part of a virgin tribute to Kublai before I relieved her of her qualification to belong the group. I sighed at my recollection of dear Gurbesu, but then put her to the back of my mind.

‘It’s a good idea, and you should act on it – the sooner the better, in fact. So make a start tomorrow. By then perhaps Niccolo Querini will be available for me to question also.’

It turned out that that was wishful thinking on my part.

Katie arose bright and early, eager to carry out her task of insinuating herself into Brother Hugh’s exclusive circle. So she wasn’t present when the furore began. I was eating a slow and luxurious breakfast, mulling over what I might ask Speranza Soranzo, when Galuppi burst into my room. He was so agitated he stumbled over his words, finally managing to get one sentence out.

‘He really is dead this time.’

I calmed him down a little and asked him to repeat what he had said, though I already suspected what he meant.

‘Who is really dead?’

‘Niccolo Querini. His manservant was giving his hunting dogs some exercise this morning close to the shore below here. When they ran off, he followed them and found Querini lying on the strand just above the tideline. He came back for assistance, and alerted me to the situation. They’ve all gone off to bring the body back.’

I cursed. ‘Damn them. I would have liked to have seen the body in situ.’

Galuppi looked puzzled. ‘Whatever for? His man said he must have fallen from the cliff. He was drunk and paid the penalty for incaution.’

I wished life – or more precisely, death – was that simple. Not for the first time since returning to the West, I longed for the assistance of Masudi al-Din. I had met him in the heart of Kublai’s great Mongol empire at a crucial moment in my investigation of a murder. He was an Arab from Yazd, with a cornucopia of knowledge about the human body. He could examine a body, and tell you all sorts of marvels about it. How the man had died – either by accident or design. What weapon had been used – poison or blade. He could even say how quickly the victim had died, and whether in pain or not. And when he opened a body with his sharp knife, it was like he was opening a book. He had always taught me never to jump to conclusions, so I needed to hurry if I was to see Querini’s body where it had fallen. I threw a tunic over my shirt, and dashed from the room as fast as my old legs could carry me. Galuppi roused himself enough to chase after. I ran down the path he indicated that led to the beach below the mansion. It was one of the sea escape routes in case the mansion was ever attacked from the landward side. I heard the loud barking of the hunting dogs before I even saw the gaggle of servants around Querini. They were bent over the body, in the process of lifting it. Despite my ragged breathing from the unusual exertion, I mustered a loud cry.

‘Leave him where he is.’

Fearfully, the servants looked up at the vision of a red-haired demon descending on them down the cliff path. In China I had earned the nickname of Zhong-Kui, a demon who sets wrongs right. That is how I must have seemed at that moment, even though my hair was no longer quite as flame red as once it had been. I strode over the sand, and the group of men around the body stopped what they were doing, and parted for me. Niccolo Querini lay face up, his arms spread wide and his dull, lifeless eyes staring into the heavens. There was no point in looking at the ground around him for any signs because the sand had been churned up by the restless feet of the servants and the dogs. Even now, the two large hounds were snuffling round their dead master, licking his face.

‘Get these dogs out of here.’

I snarled the command at the man who I knew was Querini’s servant, Antonio. It was he who must have been the one who discovered the body. He hung his head, and muttered an apology, grabbing the dogs by the scruff of their necks, and dragging them away. I looked up at the cliff above where the body lay and at the back slope at its foot where it was supposed to have landed. Mentally noting what I saw, I indicated to the servants that they could now carry out their mournful task. I would examine Querini’s body in detail in the comfort of the mansion, not here on the strand, where the sun was already beating down on the back of my neck. Besides, I needed a good goblet of wine to steel myself for the task ahead. I hated the sight of blood.

I hurried up the slope, anxious to precede the body back to the mansion. Speranza Soranzo would be waiting for me, and I didn’t want her to see her husband before I had spoken to her. Bertuccio Galuppi bustled along breathlessly at my side.

‘There is no question, is there, that it was a terrible accident? I am sure that is how Doge Soranzo would wish it to be.’

I stopped in my tracks, and stared at Galuppi.

‘Is that why you are here? To ensure I do the Doge’s bidding as you see it?’

For a moment the secretary’s façade slipped, and a sneering look transformed his face.

‘You don’t think the Doge sent you here because of your diplomacy skills, do you, Zuliani? You’re here to provide the common touch, and be your usual slippery self when it comes to winkling out secrets. But now that the main impediment to the Lady Soranzo’s return is conveniently dead, I see no further need for your services.’

I smiled politely, and carried on back to the mansion. He ran to catch me up, and grabbed my arm.

‘Did you hear me, Zuliani? You are no longer needed.’

I shook his hand off my arm disdainfully.

‘Oh, really? And you will tell that to the Doge, will you, when you return with the lady and her monkish lover in tow?’

I loved the way Galuppi’s face went puce on such occasions. Feed him something he didn’t know and put him in a sticky position, and he fairly exploded. Of course I had no proof that anything irregular was going on between Speranza and Brother Hugh – especially as he was apparently extolling the virtues of virginity. But it did no harm to overstate the case with Galuppi – he was bound to back off. And so he did, but with ill grace.

‘I am sure you are maligning the lady most foully, but have your way. I will only be the happier when you fall over your own clumsy feet. Then I shall tell the Doge what you said about his daughter with the greatest of pleasure.’

He stormed off in the opposite direction, which was quite amusing because it meant he was walking away from the mansion, and would get tangled up with the impromptu funeral cortège. Let him think what he did about me in his snooty supercilious way. I was the one who had the confidential talk with Doge Soranzo, Hero of the Aegean, Head of the Navy, and Governor of the Gulf, Ambassador to Sicily and Egypt. He told me he had worries about the behaviour of his daughter, not about that of Niccolo Querini. He didn’t tell me exactly what concerned him, only that I had to find out for myself.