The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,95

He held up his hand, and the impatient Bajamonte reined in his steed.

“Zuliani, what now? Not having second thoughts, I hope.”

Zuliani grimaced.

“Indeed no, Tiepolo. I just wanted to wish you success.”

Impatiently, the leader of the conspiracy pulled on the reins of his dancing horse, eager to be off. What was this old fool playing at?

“Thank you. Liberty, citizen.”

“Liberty, Tiepolo.” Zuliani now had his own hand on the horse’s reins, preventing Tiepolo from proceeding. “This is a necessary deed … isn’t it?”

Tiepolo let out a cry of rage at the old man’s prevarication. Thank God they had not involved the dodderer any more deeply into the conspiracy. Age had robbed him of his former clear thinking, and he could not come down from off the fence. He wrenched his reins free, and rode off. Zuliani’s eyes lost their vacant stare, put on for the dumb show, and he grinned at Tiepolo’s disappearing back. His task was done.

Even as Bajamonte imperiously threatened the Piazza, the local populace failed to rise in support. Instead they hurled insults and imprecations. One old lady even resorted to tipping a heavy piece of stone parapet out of an upper window. It missed Tiepolo, but struck down his standard-bearer. The banner, emblazoned with the word Libertas, lay in the mud. The insurrection was over almost as soon as it began, and the conspirators scattered throughout Venice.

*

The Avogadori – the representatives of the justice system of La Serenissima – had a field day following on from the disaster that was the Tiepolo/Querini uprising. Or, more properly, a number of field days. Over the next week, many of the Querinis were summarily murdered, whereas the lucky Bajamonte negotiated his banishment from Venice. Francesco Tiepolo and his closest lieutenant, however, disappeared entirely, even though all the Querini and Tiepolo family houses were ransacked in the search for the two men. Doge Gradenigo became increasingly irritated by the fact that one of the primary conspirators had escaped his net. The following week, the search spread wider, and the Signori di Notte examined every nook and cranny in every calle, and every refuge on every rio. No alley, canal, bridge or cellar was left out of the trawl for the great traitor. Slowly it was moving towards San Zulian, but Nick was unperturbed by all this disturbance. He had had the daily pleasure of the company of Katie Valier well away from Venice.

On the day of the insurrection, she had delivered her message and he had acted on it. Then he had convinced her that it was prudent not to be on the streets for a while. He had shown her his collection of artefacts from the Mongol Empire of Kubilai Khan – the Greatest Khan of them all.

She had politely sat through his well-rehearsed speech, and his tales of derring-do, then suggested they leave Venice and all the disturbance. They crossed the lagoon to Torcello, and hid away for a few days. There, Katie had got him talking again, only on a different tack.

“They say the girls at Kubilai’s court were the prettiest in the world.”

Zuliani had laughed, and touched Katie’s rosy cheek.

“But not as pretty as you.”

Which was true. Abandoning her boyish garb with which she had stalked Zuliani, Katie now had emerged as a true beauty. Her golden hair was set off perfectly by her blue gown that clung to her shapely thighs and bosom. Zuliani recalled clutching her breast when he had thought her a boy. He could almost feel the firmness of it still. He had avoided talking of the women he had known in the East on that first occasion. But on the next day, and the one after that, Katie had skilfully turned the conversation round to the same topic.

Finally Zuliani reckoned it was safe to return. The day was sunny, and they had stopped outside the dark and damp confines of Zuliani’s house under the great elder tree next to the church. It was the scene of Zuliani’s Judas kiss with Bajamonte Tiepolo, but, just now, he didn’t care about that betrayal. He had a pretty girl by his side. He knew Katie was young enough to be his granddaughter – or even his great-granddaughter – but he liked the feel of her warm thigh against his own. The sun shone on his face, and he gave in to her persistent demands for salacious gossip about his conquests in the East. He closed his eyes, leaned back against the smooth trunk of the tree,