Of Love and Evil - By Anne Rice Page 0,32

of his father. “There is no poison there, I tell you. There is nothing but a stain now which the washerwomen will seek in vain to wash out. But there is no poison.”

“Come with me,” I said, “down to the orangery. I’ll show you the tree. Find some hapless animal. I’ll show you what this poison can do. I’ll show you how very black it is, this seed, and how perfect was the caviar for concealing it.”

Suddenly Lodovico rushed at me with the dagger. I knew well how to defend myself, and smashed the hard side of my hand into his wrist, knocking the blade out of his grip, but then he went for my throat with outstretched fingers. I brought my arms up instantly crossed, and struck out, forcing his arms apart with a wild and sudden gesture.

He fell back confounded by these simple moves. Neither of them would have been much of a surprise in our times when martial arts are taught to children. I was ashamed of how much I had enjoyed the struggle.

One of the guards picked up the dagger.

Lodovico stood shaken, and then, desperately, he ran his hand along the stain on the coverlet, gathering up but a few grains of the caviar and he put this on his tongue. “See, I tell you, I am maligned. I am maligned by evil Jews who consort to destroy me for no other reason but that I know their tricks and what they would have done to Niccolò.”

He licked his lips. He’d had but the tiniest portion of the caviar, and could easily conceal the effects.

Again a deep silence fell. Only the sudden shuddering of Niccolò broke the silence.

“Brother,” he whispered. “This is all on account of Leticia.”

“A lie!” said Lodovico thickly. “How dare you?”

“Oh, if only I’d known,” said Niccolò. “What is she but one of many lovely young maidens who might have been to me a gentle bride? If only I’d known.”

Signore Antonio glowered at Lodovico.

“Leticia, is it?” he whispered.

“I tell you, these Jews have bewitched him. I tell you it is they who put the poison in the caviar, I tell you I am innocent.” He was weeping, he was angry, he was whispering and muttering, and once again, he spoke. “It was this one, Vitale, who brought the flower to the house. I remember it now. How else should he and his friend know of its power? I tell you, this one, this Toby, is convicted out of his own mouth.”

The old man shook his head at the pity of it.

“Come,” said Signore Antonio. He gestured for his armed servants to take Lodovico in hand. He looked at me. “Take me down to the orangery and show me this medicine.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE YOUNG MAN’S FACE WAS TWISTED WITH MALICE. The very plasticity which had given him such easy grief before now gave him a mask of fury. He pushed the armed men off and walked with his head high as we descended the steps, and gathered, all of us, save for Niccolò, of course, in the orangery.

There stood the plant, and I pointed out the many black seeds which had fallen already into the soil. I pointed out the half-withered flowers already harboring the poison.

A servant was sent to find some poor stray dog that it might be brought into the house, and soon the yelps of the poor little beast were echoing up the broad stairway.

Vitale stared at the purple flowers in horror. Signore Antonio merely glowered at it, and the two priests stood staring coldly at me and at Vitale as though we were still somehow responsible for what had happened here.

An elderly woman, much bewildered and frightened, produced a crockery dish for the poor starved dog and went to fill it with water.

I put back on the gloves I’d removed to play the lute, and requesting Lodovico’s dagger, I gathered the seeds into a heap and then looked around for something with which to crush them. Only the handle of the dagger was at hand. And so I used it to make a powder, a good pinch of which I now put into the dog’s water. I put in another pinch and yet another.

The animal drank thirstily and miserably and licked at the bare dish and then immediately began to twitch. It fell on its side, and then on its back and writhed in its agony. In a moment, it had become rigid, its eyes staring dully at nothing and no