Votive (3 page)

Finally, Cardinale Martino struck the stone railing with his fist and gave a victorious smile. ‘You did well to bring me here.’ His voice was soft, melodic. ‘An Estrattore has walked this bridge, has used his Godforsaken powers right here, this very day. Of that I am in no doubt.’

The Cardinale inhaled deeply, relishing the night air, shutting his eyes in appreciation, ignoring the taint of putrescence that seemed to coat everything. He exhaled slowly and, opening his eyes, gave a soft laugh. ‘Just when there were those in the Church, bishops here in Serenissima, who were insisting they were extinct, an Estrattore rears his heretical little head – just high enough for it to be lopped. And in my lifetime.’ He chuckled. ‘Thank God the Great Patriarch understood that it was God’s will I come here.’ He lifted the heavy crucifix he wore around his neck and kissed it passionately, holding it tightly for a moment before releasing it to fall against his chest. ‘It’s been a long time, such a long, long time.’ He turned to face the captain. ‘So, Sansono, tell me again what you know. What happened here this afternoon. I can see some blood – the rain has washed away a great deal – but I understand it’s both human and animal. Explain to me again; do not leave out any details, no matter how insignificant they may seem to you.’

The captain spoke quickly and concisely. The Cardinale listened, his head tilted slightly, his body still. ‘There was a chase. From the Chandlers Quartiere. The popolani pursued the one called Tallow. It all ended on this bridge
when a Bond Rider appeared. A chandler, Dante Macelleria, was killed. So was a dog that he brought with him but which, I am told, belonged to Tallow. There was another man involved as well. A candlemaker named Pillar Pelleta. It’s said, though no-one will yet confirm, that this Tallow, Tallow Pelleta, was a member of his family and his apprentice. And so, your grace,’ finished Captain Sansono, ‘it was the soldiers who arrived after the homicidi of the chandler who informed us that a masked Bond Rider also attempted to kidnap the apprentice candlemaker.’

The Cardinale rubbed his chin. ‘Hmmm. Bond Riders. The unholy alliance between them and the Estrattore has been known for centuries. No doubt they’re up to something. For now, I have other prey to catch.’ He stared above the captain’s head for a moment. ‘The young boy. The one who leapt over the bridge – presumably, he lived in this quartiere?’

‘That is what we believe, your grace.’

‘And he managed to elude the Bond Riders?’

‘The locals were quite clear they never captured him. Some say he jumped into the canal, others that he simply vanished. The soldiers were unable to get much detail. I am sure your grace will understand, they were very distressed at the death of the Macelleria boy, the ragazzo Dante. His family are well known in their quartiere; most of the focus was on what had happened to him.’

‘Of course. The loss of a son is tragic.’ The Cardinale made a small sound, lowered his chin and shook his head. He waited a full minute before speaking again. ‘But I am very curious, captain, as to what the chandler was doing on the bridge, detached from the mob who, it seems, mindlessly followed a commotion. Why it’s his blood spilled and no-one else’s? Why he was the one in control of the apprentice’s dog? You did say, did you not, that the dead dog belonged to the apprentice candlemaker?’

‘Sì, your grace.’

‘You see, captain, this presents a very curious puzzle. I have no doubt whatsoever that this candlemaker, this young boy named …’

‘Tallow, your grace.’

‘Tallow, is an Estrattore. I recall earlier reports of an “angel of mercy” in this sestiere, that some of the residents here, against all possibility, survived the Morto Assiderato and that they were attributing their continued existence to candles? Is that not so?’

‘Sì, your grace.’

‘I am thinking that it’s very likely this Tallow is responsible for those magical candles, that this Tallow is, in fact, the “angel of mercy” that I am very curious about. What do you think, captain?’

‘I think your grace is very perceptive.’

‘That means that not only were the popolani knowingly buying suspicious products from this young man, but they’re also complicit in concealing him from the authorities. Furthermore, they’ve been doing so for years. This is a very serious charge, is it not?’

‘Sì, your grace.’

‘And what is the penalty?’

‘Death, your grace.’

The Cardinale inclined his head. ‘Sì. Morto.’ His lips curled. ‘Where exactly did the candlemaker live?’

Captain Sansono shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s something we’re unclear about, your grace. These peasants, they’re very protective of one another. Those who were questioned by the soldiers were vague in their responses.’

‘The popolani,’ he chuckled. ‘How sweet. They probably even consider this Estrattore to be one of them.’

‘So it seems, your grace.’

‘What about the chandler’s family – have they been questioned?’

‘Sì, your grace. They too were … imprecise.’

‘Hmm.’ The Cardinale pushed himself away from the side of the bridge and returned to where he’d been squatting earlier. His servants quickly joined him, holding their lanterns up high. They illuminated the bridge, turning the cold, dark space into an intimate one. The Cardinale peered down at the slick stones. What remained of the blood was oil-like across the surface, difficult for anything but a trained eye to detect. The captain marvelled that the Cardinale could read anything from what remained and in such poor light.

‘I do not like vague, Captain Sansono. I do not like
imprecise
either.’

The captain knew better than to respond.

‘You said there’s also some confusion about what happened to the chandler’s body?’

‘Sì, your grace. Some of the witnesses said that the Macelleria family retrieved the body; others say it never arrived at their premises. You know how particular the mourning rituals are, how seriously they are taken.’

‘Did anyone follow up on this?’

The captain paused. ‘Your grace, the local soldiers – some of them knew the family; they didn’t want to force –’

‘Of course!’ The Cardinale threw his hands up in the air. ‘Of course they didn’t. I understand. God bless their thoughtfulness. And God bless yours too, captain.’

‘Your grace?’

‘Captain Sansono.’ The Cardinale spun towards the captain and draped an arm across his shoulders. The captain gulped. ‘Sansono,’ he said softly, leaning close so only the captain could hear, drawing him away from the light and his men, and strolling along the bridge. His boots clattered
against the stones, his cape swirled around his ankles. ‘You have known me for a short time, sì? Ever since the Doge put me in charge of you. What you do not know about me, but what I will tell you to make things between us less complicated, is that I do not like puzzles, I do not like confusion and I particularly dislike ambiguity.’ He paused, waiting for an answer.

Captain Sansono swallowed. ‘Sì, your grace.’

‘Bene. We have a very serious situation on our hands, Sansono. One that is my responsibility to resolve. There’s an Estrattore loose in Serenissima and, according to the clues that the events on this very bridge, this very day, have uncovered, there has been for some time now. Possibly years. This has been happening under our very noses. The Doge will not like it. First his grandson, then the Morto Assiderato and now this …’

The Cardinale withdrew his arm and stood in the middle of the bridge, hands on his hips, facing the Candlemakers Quartiere. Captain Sansono remained behind, admiring the breadth of the man’s shoulders, the way the breeze tugged at his grey hair. ‘Somewhere, living in those casas,’ the Cardinale said pointing to the houses across the bridge and along the fondamenta, ‘are people who know the answer to the many questions I have, questions that you too, captain, and your very capable men, will soon also possess. I will give them to you so you can find me the answers.’

The Cardinale turned round and walked slowly to where the captain waited. The lamps behind the captain lit the Cardinale’s face, casting shadows that elongated his long nose and threw his eyes into darkness. Captain Sansono no longer knew where or at whom the Cardinale was looking. Not until he stood so close that the captain could feel the nobile’s scented breath upon his cheek. Cloves. He could
see his eyes now – they glinted in the distant, flickering flames of the lamps.

‘So, Captain Sansono, you and your men must do whatever it takes to get me those answers. To help me piece together the puzzle, to remove the confusion and eliminate
vague
. Am I clear?’

‘Sì, your grace.’ Captain Sansono knew exactly what was required of him and his men. His heart quickened. Never did he think he would be responsible for something so important as uncovering one of the forsaken Estrattore – a creature of unholy horror.

‘You have the permission of the Church to use whatever means you must to get these, Captain Sansono.’ The Cardinale smiled. ‘You will report directly to me and, in turn, I will report to the Council of Ten, the Doge and the Great Patriarch.’ He extended his arms, the red cassock of his office appearing as his cloak fell away. His voice deepened as he offered a benediction, becoming rich and impassioned. Captain Sansono felt his flesh quiver, his breath come quickly. He glanced at his men. They were transfixed.

‘We will find this Estrattore,’ continued the Cardinale. ‘We will hunt him down and, when we find him, we will make an example of him and his protectors such as has never been seen before in Serenissima. The Estrattore will not return. Not in
my
lifetime.’ His last word echoed across the waters, resounding in a long expiration, as if the city itself was astonished by what was occurring. ‘Do you understand, captain?’ whispered the Cardinale.

The captain dropped to his knees, his eyes locked on the Cardinale’s. ‘Sì, your grace. Your words are my command.’

‘You, Sansono – you are my sword – God’s sword, and you must remember, it’s his work we do. Whatever it takes, you are to find the traitors who harboured the Estrattore
and punish them. You must find out what the chandler’s family knows, why that young man died on this bridge. Only then can we find the boy and bestow upon him what he deserves – what all Estrattore deserve.’

Captain Sansono ignored the tiny niggle of doubt that tried to intrude upon his thoughts. He pushed it away and raised his shining face to the Cardinale’s, waiting for his final orders. As he did, the sky above opened and rain began to fall. He ignored it.

‘As God is our witness,’ said the Cardinale, ‘the hunt begins now, tonight – and it does not stop until we have caught our prey. Trapped and destroyed him.’

‘Amen,’ chorused the captain and his men breathlessly.

W
AITING UNTIL HE WAS
certain the Cardinale and the Signori di Notte had left the bridge, Baroque peeled back the canvas and stood up unsteadily. Once again, he untied the craft from its moorings. He began to ease the oar into the forcola and push away from the fondamenta.

‘Merde!’ he hissed, almost dropping the oar as a shadow detached itself from a doorway. It was a black cat. It meandered to the edge of the canal and sat there, staring at him with its luminous eyes. He shook his fist at it before guiding the old boat into the middle of the waterway, trying to catch the current.

As he manoeuvred along the stygian waters his mind raced. He’d thought the Maleovellis deluded when they first approached him to find an Estrattore. Keen to take their soldi, he’d agreed to work for them, humour them. When he’d finally found Tallow and realised what the boy … no, he corrected himself,
girl
was, he couldn’t believe his luck. Options that had never been available to him suddenly
appeared. Depending upon to whom he chose to reveal the girl’s whereabouts, he was going to be a rich man, only just as she was in his grasp, she was snatched out of reach. He’d missed his chance.

He was not the only one. The Bond Riders had failed to obtain her, the Maleovellis were denied, and now the most deadly of all pursuers was on her tail.

He steered through the Dorsoduro Sestiere, heading for Nobiles’ Rise. He knew he was taking a risk – in many ways. The Bond Riders would be watching him, but not tonight, not when they had their own problems to deal with. Tonight he could return to his former employers safe in the knowledge that he would not be followed. What happened after would be a different matter. No doubt the Maleovellis would use his journals to force his cooperation. They would want him to continue to search for the Estrattore. Fear clutched at his chest and a rivulet of sweat coursed down his back. Only now, with the involvement of the Cardinale, the search for her had reached a new and deadly level. He would be working not only against time, but also against forces that frightened him in ways he did not quite understand. He recalled the anger of the Bond Riders, the fervour of the Cardinale: his life depended on him finding Tallow first.

I’m too old for this
, thought Baroque.

The oar spliced the water, sending gentle ripples of Cimmerian wash to break against the passing casas. As he piloted the gondola towards the Circolo, a scream shattered the night. He froze, the oar just above the water. The breeze brought with it fragments of broken voices, other frantic cries. Baroque quickened his stroke. He had to put as much distance between himself and the Signori di Notte as he could. His heavy thoughts turned again to the Cardinale and the conversation on the bridge that
had carried down to him in the gondola below. What he’d heard were not mere promises or threats, but pious plans for a terrible revenge.