He could not, would not betray me, but he was afraid he would not be strong enough to withstand their punishment. He drank and waited. Inert. Terrified. Then I saw Baroque. Baroque had persuaded Pillar to come with him; Pillar had believed him when he said he knew were I was, that I was safe. He promised to bring Pillar to me. And, cruelly, he had. Pillar had seen me from a distance – in the window of the piano nobile before he was taken, by Jacopo and Salzi, and locked in this damp, cold place. He’d been here ever since. Ever since I had been at the Maleovellis. For over a year …
They had beaten him, starved him, fed him, tormented him with what I now was, my success, with what I had become. I saw myself, the grand courtesan, through Pillar’s eyes and what I saw sickened me. The price for this was too high. The Estrattore were my people, sì, but Pillar was my family. The only family I had ever known.
The knowledge brought me to my knees. I slid down the bars, my eyes still fixed on Pillar. Sorrow poured out of me; I begged his understanding as I gazed deep into his essence. What I saw almost undid me.
He did understand. He did forgive. He was proud of me, bewildered by my beauty, the talent I know he could sense. In his eyes I saw belief. The Maleovellis had not broken him – or the love he still had for me. The love I did not deserve.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t love me, I silently begged.
‘Now will you do what we ask?’ asked Signor Maleovelli, squatting beside me, speaking directly into my ear. ‘For if you don’t, I think you know what we’ll do.’
I didn’t need to extract to know the answer.
‘Sì,’ I said. ‘I will do whatever you ask of me.’
I could not let Pillar – this man who had already suffered so much for me – suffer any more. I would not.
Above my head, looks of triumph were exchanged. I no longer cared. I would kill the Doge and then I would figure out what to do about the Maleovellis, Pillar and Baroque.
He had warned me not to trust him. Now I knew what he had meant.
IT TOOK BAROQUE A MOMENT TO REALISE what had woken him. He lay there, trying to make sense of the muffled voices, the cry. He sat up. Moonlight streamed into his windowless bedroom from the workshop. Throwing his coat over his nightshirt, he stumbled out into the main room, colliding with the table as he tried to wake. What was happening?
He wandered out to the well and lowered the bucket. The sounds weren’t so apparent out here. He pulled the rope and splashed some water on his face, scooped handfuls of the icy-cold liquid into his mouth. He shouldn’t have had the extra vino, but the waitress at the taverna had been very attentive and she had a nice smile.
He heard a door slam and quickly ducked down behind the well. Someone was on the pianterreno – the ground floor. He could hear voices. What where they up to this time of night? Bending over, he scurried to the small window under the stairs and slowly raised himself. In the candlelight he saw Signor Maleovelli and Giaconda. They were followed by Jacopo, who held Tarlo tightly and, while she did not struggle, Baroque could see that she was distressed. Fury rose in him. What was happening?
Then it occurred to him.
Pillar! They’d taken her to see Pillar.
Merde. He hadn’t expected this so soon.
He crept back to his room and flung on some clothes. He wormed his way into his hose, but didn’t put his shoes on. If he was to move around the casa without being heard, he didn’t want the creak of the leather to give him away.
Back out in the courtyard, he noted the moon was in the ascent. Its light was watery and thick clouds were about to cross its path. Good, the darker the better. He glanced up at the piano nobile. The candles in the corridor had been extinguished, another element in his favour.
Using the external staircase, he entered the piano nobile without a sound. Practice paid off. Making sure no-one was about, he crept up to where light spilled into the hallway from Signor Maleovelli’s study. Every time he passed an open door, he held his breath. If he was caught … But there