We must be ready – united we are formidable; fractured, someone else will pick up the pieces.’
Everyone made noises of agreement.
‘We also know that the person named here has the support of Roma. Is this not so, your grace?’
‘It is,’ said the Cardinale. His eyes glinted. Ezzelino felt a mixture of elation and fear. He would make sure to work closely with this man and then, when the time was right, bring him to his knees.
Signor Nicolotti cleared his throat and opened the paper. His eyes dropped to the name and widened. Colour filled his cheeks. He gazed at the men around him.
Ezzelino leant forward eagerly.
‘The next Doge will be … Signor Tomasi Moronisini.’
There were gasps. Moronisini’s mouth dropped open before he remembered where he was and whom he was among. He drew back his shoulders and stuck out his chest, a wave of red flooding his jowls. He stood up slowly, accepting slaps on the back and arms from those nearest to him.
At first Ezzelino did not hear what he was saying, so great was the deafening noise in his ears. What had happened? How had this gone wrong? Moronisini? The fool he’d manipulated into handing over almost half his wealth? The idioto who entered into whatever colleganza the Maleovellis proposed? This buffoon was to be the new Doge?
As Moronisini gave a speech about the honour he felt, how humbled he was and what he would do for Serenissima, Ezzelino studied the other Council members beneath his lashes. Why, Errizo had all but promised to vote for him, and likewise Manin; even Nicolotti had hinted that it was all but certain – a foregone conclusion. But he had not been at the dinner the other night. He had cancelled at the last minute, a fever. He looked well enough now.
Ezzelino caught him watching his reaction and saw the smirk that twisted his lips. Fury almost lifted him out of his seat. He clenched and unclenched his hands. What about the Cardinale? Could he have swung the vote? The Cardinale sat back in his chair, a hand carelessly draped on the table, the other resting against his cross. He appeared to be hanging on Moronisini’s every word, but Ezzelino saw his eyes flicker to catch everyone’s response. He steeled his features. Cardinale Martino’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, and he arched a fine brow. Ezzelino nodded and smiled and the Cardinale looked away. Yes. There was no doubt. The Cardinale had played an important role in this outcome. He chewed the inside of his mouth. He still didn’t dare burn Tarlo’s candles around him – that was inviting too much danger.
But of all the men here, six had come to his casa, his table. Six had breathed the fumes, inhaled the power of the Estrattore. With his vote, that meant seven against four. The position should have been his! It should be him standing there now, receiving congratulations, thanking the Council, basking in the glow of their confidence, their trust, revelling in the power that all too soon would be Moronisini’s. Now it had been snatched away.
Still, he thought, all was not lost. There was another move left – another option available to him: Lord Waterford. He recalled Waterford’s voice: ‘You could name your price.’ All he wanted, all Farrowfare wanted, was the Estrattore.
His price: Moronisini’s head on a platter, the Cardinale’s beside it, and the corno ducale firmly on his own head.
Suddenly Ezzelino didn’t feel quite so bad. Suddenly the future again looked bright. Serenissima, his city, the country he loved above everything had betrayed him. He’d bled for this country, lost and won a fortune, and now it turned his back on him when he was in a position to save it. Well, he still would. But he would make it pay first. He would make them all pay, and if it meant using a foreign power to exact his revenge, so be it.
With a start he realised the speeches were over and the Council was breaking up for the night. Hands were being shaken, backs patted. The fools looked pleased with themselves.
‘Maleovelli, amico.’ Moronisini gripped his forearm. ‘Grazie mille, grazie mille. Without your support, your faith in my enterprises, I doubt the others would have seen what I can do, how I can unite our country and stave off this war.’
Ezzelino tried not to let shock register on his face. He squeezed Signor Moronisini’s arm in return. ‘You deserve everything, amico mio. What you have