Daughters of the Doge (64 page)

September the 5th 1556 – Fondamenta della Sensa

It was worse than before. More rain and wind from the east, and very high tides. The Piazza san Marco was knee-deep in water and our little house, too, had felt the effect of the floods. It had been raining for a solid week, and the flagstones of the ground floor were still soaked after the last three tides had washed right through. There was mud and seaweed everywhere – no one had had the inclination to sweep it away when another high tide was likely to bring it straight back.

To make matters worse, the wind had displaced a number of tiles and the roof above us was leaking. The stone staircase was slippery with the endless trickle of water mixed with the mud from our boots. The whole house stank of mud, weed and fish, and the earl’s health had not improved. I told Thomas of my decision.

‘Yes. You go, Richard. The invalid is perfectly able to travel. He is just wallowing in his unhappiness.’

I had finished my breakfast and was down on the ground floor, packing to leave, when the earl suddenly decided he was feeling better and no longer needed to be bedridden. Thomas called down to me and asked me to help him bring the earl downstairs. I was just about to climb to the next floor when I heard a commotion.

‘I do not need help, Thomas! I shall descend to face the world like a gentleman.’ The words had hardly been uttered when I heard his foot slide on the greasy surface and the earl fell the full length of the stone staircase, crashing down step-after-step and gasping in pain as he came.

The body which we examined at the foot of the stairs was not a pretty sight. His hip appeared to be damaged and Thomas was convinced he had broken at least two ribs. We tried to make him comfortable on the wet floor, but he began to cough and, to our horror, spat blood.

Suddenly, all was changed. Courtenay was pleading to be taken immediately to the hospital in Padua and Thomas reluctantly agreed. ‘His condition is too serious for me to attend to him here. He needs full medical attention, in a hospital. Padua is some distance to travel, but it is the best there is and, on balance, I believe, worth the journey, but we will have to be careful.’

There was no question of taking him by horseback or coach; we would have to make a stretcher and take him all the way by barge. It was still going to be a rough journey. The barge was ordered and came to the front of the house, but as soon as he saw it, Courtenay refused.

‘I will go by coach, like a gentleman. I entered the city this way and, by God’s eyes, I shall leave it the same way.’

We argued and cajoled, but he was insistent, and finally Thomas and I had to agree. Thomas set off in a coach with the earl, our barge having been sent round the island to provide safe passage across the lagoon from Canale Colambola to Mestre.

I agreed to inform Yasmeen and Tintoretto what was happening, and to ask them to send messages to Faustina and to the Oratorio, where Thomas was expected. I would take the ferry across to the mainland and catch them up, either on the road or in Padua itself.

Suddenly I was back in service; it was going to be a busy day.

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September the 6th 1556 – Padua

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September the 16th 1556 – University of Padua

We had experienced ten uncomfortable days. Ten days in which Peter Vannes, the English Ambassador, had insisted on taking control. Thomas had tried to use his friendship with the doctors in Padua to stay close to our patient, but the authorities in Venice had let it be known that Vannes had their full support, and he used that authority to the full.

The Ambassador had interviewed the earl shortly after his arrival, intent, we were sure, on trying to blame Thomas and me for his condition and to claim negligence against us. Why, Vannes had asked, had the earl insisted on coming to Padua when he was so ill?

The Earl had replied strongly, saying that on his previous visits to Padua people had said he was more French than English, and as soon as he was recovered he proposed to take action against such men, defending his honour with his sword.

Why then, Vannes had persisted, insisted, on travelling by coach, when taking a barge all the way would have been so much more comfortable? Did your companions, he asked, try to save money by taking the coach? This was a scurrilous suggestion, and clearly designed to further a claim of negligence, but again Courtenay would have none of it. Quite the opposite, he had replied, it was we who had pressed for a barge and even brought one to his door. ‘No, my own pride as an Englishman was the motivation; I did not want to appear to be leaving the city with my tail between my legs.’

It was all very unnecessary and uncomfortable, but consistent with all the reports we had received about Vannes. I decided to write in code to Walsingham about our experiences as soon as the opportunity arose.

‘No improvement.’ Thomas had returned from his visit to the hospital looking drawn and tired. ‘It is not good. Our first diagnosis is clearly confirmed now. The broken ends of his ribs have created internal bleeding. In addition, the slime where he fell has infected his wounds and he has a heavy fever. He is eating nothing and sinking fast.’

My mind went back to the last days of King Edward – such a terrible experience for us, and how much worse for him? Much as I disliked Courtenay, I would not wish this on anyone.

‘What are his chances of recovery?’ I knew the answer before I asked the question.

Thomas sighed and wiped his face wearily. ‘He does not have the will to live and has become delirious. Sometimes he thinks he is the King of Hungary and Veronica Franco his queen. At least, in his delirium, he appears happy, and I believe he is past pain.’

We crossed ourselves. ‘God have mercy on his soul.’ I hoped those words did not seem premature.

‘Amen to that. It will not be long now.’

We went to eat. There was no pleasure in it, despite the quality of the food, but those who look after the sick learn that they must keep their strength up.

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