Jon Grimwood - The fallen blade

"So?" Giulietta demanded.

"Crucifers are celibate."

"Supposedly."

"What do you think they're discussing?" Eleanor asked, trying to change the subject. Although all that happened was that Giulietta's scowl deepened.

"My engagement. All anybody talks about." "She's interesting."

Captain Roderigo regarded the merchant's wife with surprise. She was certainly blonde, and pink-skinned, big-breasted and big-boned. With thighs made to cushion a man's head. But interesting?

"I meant your Lady Giulietta."

Both men glanced towards the Millioni princess.

Her family had worn the biretum, that oddly shaped cap adopted by the doges of old, for five generations. Earlier dukes were elected, however corrupt that election. Marco Polo's descendants claimed it by birth. Their palace was grander than the Medici's. Their mainland estates wider than the Pope's own. They were aggressive, avaricious and scheming. Essential qualities for a princely family. To these they added a fourth, murderous. Their arm was long. The blade it held sharp.

"The Millioni have kept us free."

"From whom?" Sir Richard asked, sounding surprised.

"Everyone. Venice balances on a rope, with predators waiting in the pit below. They see us dance elegantly, pirouette daintily; dressed in our gaudy clothes. And never ask the reason we stay high on our rope."

"And who are the predators?"

Roderigo regarded him sharply. "We have the German emperor to the north. The emperor of Byzantium to the south. The Pope has declared the Millioni false princes. Making them fair game for any penitent with a sharp dagger and a guilty conscience. The Mamluks covet our trade routes. The King of Hungary wants his Schiavoni colonies in Dalmatia back. Everyone offers to protect us from everyone else. Who do you think the predators are?"

"So you marry Giulietta to Janus because it will help protect those trade routes? Poor child…"

Finding them watching her, Giulietta turned away.

"She makes no pretence to be pleased," said Sir Richard, then shrugged. "Why would she? Janus is years older. I imagine she dreams of the Florentine."

"Cosimo?"

"He's… what? A few years older than her? Educated, loves music, dresses well. He's even said to be handsome."

"She fancies no one," Roderigo said. "Not even," he said, trying to sweeten the truth, "a ruggedly handsome, war-hardened veteran like me."

Sir Richard snorted.

"Anyway, she can't marry the Medici. Florence is our enemy."

"So were we until your ambassador proposed this match at the funeral of our late queen. Janus was surprised by your timing."

Roderigo wasn't.

Venice's ambassador to Cyprus had the patience of a baited bear and the subtlety of a rampaging bull. He'd been given the post because Duchess Alexa couldn't stand his presence in her city any longer.

"Look," said Roderigo. "You should tell Giulietta that Cyprus is beautiful. That Janus is struck dumb by the beauty of her portrait."

"I'm a Crucifer." Sir Richard said ruefully. "We don't lie."

"You have to entice her."

"You've visited Janus's island? Then you know the truth. The summers burn, the winters are bleak. The only thing he has in abundance are rocks and goats. I won't embellish the truth to impress her."

Roderigo sighed.

"On to other matters," Sir Richard said. "Who takes the tenth chair?"

Glancing round, as if to indicate that simply asking was unwise, Roderigo muttered, "Impossible to say. No doubt the decision will be a wise one."

"No doubt."

The city's inner council had one seat vacant. Obviously enough, that seat was in the gift of Marco IV, reigning Duke of Venice and Prince of Serenissima. Unfortunately, Marco had little interest in politics.

"Surely you have some idea?"

"It depends…"

"On what?"

After another quick glance, Roderigo said, "Whether the Regent or the duchess get to choose." They walked on in uneasy silence after that. Until Sir Richard stopped at a proclamation nailed to a church door. Wanted. Axel, a master glass blower. Fifty gold ducats to anyone who captures him. Death to anyone who aids his escape. This is the judgement of the Ten. The glass-blower was described as thickset, heavy of gut and white at the temples, with a lurid scar along his left thumb. If he had any sense, he'd crop his hair. Moreover, skulking in fear for his life should shrink his gut. The scar would be harder to hide, however.

"Will you find him?"

"We usually do."

"What happens to his family?"

Roderigo checked that his charges were walking arm-in-arm ahead; one sullen, the other watchful. Being Giulietta's lady-in-waiting was an honour, but not an easy one. "They'll be questioned obviously."

"They haven't been already?"

"Of course they've…" Roderigo's voice was loud enough to make Lady Eleanor look back. "Yes," he hissed. "They've been questioned. One son-in-law and a grandchild are dead. The Council examines the others tomorrow."

"And then…?"

"Death between the lion and the dragon."

Two columns marked the lagoon edge of the piazzetta, a small square attached to San Marco's much larger one. One topped by a winged lion, the other by Saint Todaro slaying a dragon. It was here that traitors died.

"Why kill them if they know nothing?"

"What do you know about Murano?"

"Little enough. You don't encourage strangers."

"The glassmakers' island has its own courts and cathedral, its own coinage, its own bishop. It even has its own Golden Book. A good portion of Venice's wealth comes from its secrets."

Captain Roderigo paused to let that sink in.

"It's the only place in the world where artisans are patrician and skill with your hands earns you the right to wear a sword in public."

"This comes at a price?"

Honesty kept Roderigo from lying. Glass-blowers couldn't leave Murano without permission and the penalty for a Muranesq caught trying to abandon Venice was death. "Didn't you need your Prior's permission to leave Cyprus?" he added, refusing to concede the point entirely.

"I'm a Crucifer." Sir Richard's voice was amused. "I wake, sleep, piss and fight on the orders of my Prior. And we should stop talking. Ignoring Lady Giulietta makes it hard for her to ignore us."

Roderigo laughed. "She's young," he said. "And Janus has…" He hesitated. "A strange reputation."

"For liking boys?"

"Also pain."

"The last is a lie."

"Yet he married his late wife for love?"

"Bedded her once. And was stricken when she died. Your Lady Giulietta will not have an easy time of it." First out of the Grand Canal and already speeding towards the piazzetta, a curly-haired boy and his Nubian companion were far enough ahead to have a length between them and the first of those behind.

Maybe the lightness of their boat made up for the slightness of its crew.

Two boys rowing, where others had three, five or even seven working an oar. All stood, using a single oar each. There were ten thousand gondolini in Venice and each was taxed yearly. That was how their number was known.

A hundred and fifty craft had set out, hoping to race round the city's edge, before returning along the reversed S of the Canalasso, as the Venetians called their largest canal. Although most were gondolini, the boat in front was not.

"What is it?" Sir Richard asked Roderigo. Then, remembering his manners, added. "Perhaps her ladyship knows?"

"Eleanor?"

Her lady-in-waiting didn't know either.

"A vipera," Roderigo said. "Mostly used for smuggling."

"It's a vipera," Giulietta said flatly. "Mostly used for smuggling."

"Equally pointed at both ends?"

Roderigo nodded. "Instead of turning his boat, the oarsman turns himself, while my men are still turning their gondolini. It's rare to see one used openly."