now, and what’s to come. Trust me.’ He looked Signor Moronisini in the eye.
Signor Moronisini’s fat face carved into a smile. ‘I do, Maleovelli. I do. That’s why I am where I am now.’ He kissed Ezzelino warmly on both cheeks and then moved to receive tributes from the others.
Ezzelino was momentarily stunned. Then he began to laugh.
‘What’s so funny, Signor Maleovelli?’ asked the Cardinale, breaking away from a conversation with Signor Nicolotti, who was talking fast and low to him.
‘Nothing, your grace. I just think these are good times to be alive.’
‘You think so? What, with an Estrattore on the loose and a foreign power breathing down our necks, threatening our trade, our allies and colonies? You have a strange view on life, Signor Maleovelli.’
‘No, your grace, I have faith.’
The Cardinale stared at him intently. ‘Then God be with you.’
‘And also with you,’ answered Ezzelino automatically and, taking leave of the capi, left the chamber.
It wasn’t until he was tucked into the felze with an ermine-lined blanket wrapped around his legs that he replayed the events.
He was still puzzled by how the vote had gone against him. He’d all but taken their promises, empty as it now turned out. What had gone wrong? Then he thought of the candles. For months now, he’d trusted Tarlo to do what he told her. To infuse the candles with what he needed to ensure his climb to power. And she’d obeyed. She’d even done a bit of manipulating on her own. He hadn’t cared; grief-stricken nobiles meant vulnerable ones. It had contributed to his cause in the end. He even admired her newfound ruthlessness. But had he grown careless? After all, he didn’t know for sure if the candles worked until afterwards … He’d always taken Tarlo’s word for it and, to this point, she had not given him a single reason to doubt her.
Rage clenched his stomach as understanding dawned on him. There was only one person responsible for the outcome tonight. One person who manipulated the result. The Estrattore.
The little bitch had disobeyed him. It was her fault he hadn’t got the vote. ‘Puttana!’ he hissed. He warned her – months ago; he and Giaconda warned her what would happen if she broke the rules, if she thwarted their commands, their desires.
He banged on the ceiling of the felze. ‘Faster, Salzi, faster.’
He began to plan how he could undo what had just happened. First he would get a message to Waterford, then he would think about what to do with Tarlo. Giaconda’s fears were founded after all. Tarlo was more dangerous than he realised. He would not make that lapse in judgement again. At some time over the last few months, she’d stopped being afraid of him. Well, she would soon learn the meaning of fear – and what it meant to double-cross the Maleovellis.
Snuggling back into the rug, he began to smile. The future really did seem bright after all.
‘CAPTAIN SANSONO! WAIT,’ cried a familiar voice. Exiting the basilica after taking confession, Captain Sansono paused at the font, the holy water still dripping from the ends of his fingers. Almost running towards him from under the south dome was Cardinale Martino. Heads turned at the spectacle the Cardinale made with his red togati flapping around his legs, his huge cross swaying across his chest and his hand clutching his cap to his skull.
In the few moments it took the Cardinale to reach him, Captain Sansono slipped on his gloves and tied his cape under his neck. A servant passed him his sword. By the time it was back in his scabbard, the Cardinale was at his side.
‘Walk with me,’ said the Cardinale, not even out of breath.
‘Your grace,’ said Sansono, puzzled as to why the Cardinale was seeking him out. He’d presented his last report only yesterday and they’d discussed it at some length. Sansono and the Signori di Notte had been very busy. Along with some of the Doge’s best decoders, they’d been translating correspondence between the Ottomans and the Jinoans, intercepted by spies in Roma only a few days earlier. War was brewing, but all the Cardinale seemed to focus on was the fact they’d still not found the Estrattore. Sansono assumed the Cardinale would ease back on the search and concentrate on the threat the heathens – never mind the Jinoans and Kyprians – posed, but he’d been wrong. The Cardinale had insisted on recruiting more men to question the popolani and even infiltrate the various