Mutiny (14 page)

_{Talk
of this soon palled: the contrast with their present situation was too great.}

_{Almost apologetically,
Renzi tried to change tack: 'In Venice gambling is a form of art. Should there
be a pack of cards, and as we have time on our hands I would be glad to
introduce you to vingt et un -  perhaps, or . ..'}

_{Time dragged. A noon
meal in the smoke-blackened furatole did not improve the oudook of the three
seamen.}

_{Back in the room,
Larsson's expression faded to an enduring blankness, and Renzi's features
darkened with frustration. Many times he went to the grimy window and stared
out over the rooftops.}

_{'I needs a grog,'
grunted Larsson, challenging Renzi with a glower.}

_{Renzi didn't answer for
a time. Then, suddenly, he stood up. 'Yes. Below.' He left the room abrupdy,
without his coat.}

_{Kydd jumped up and
followed, tumbling down the stairway. 'Garba!' he heard Renzi shout. It was
rough brandy and water; Kydd had no real desire for it, and was unsettled by
Renzi's deep pull at his pot.}

_{The third round of
drink came. In a low, measured tone, Renzi spat vehemently, 'Diavolo!' The
others looked at him. 'This is Venice?}

_{'Aye,
and so?' Kydd asked.}

_{Renzi glared at him.
'When last I was here . . .' He stopped. His knuckles showed white as he
gripped the stone drinking vessel. Then he got to his feet in a sudden clumsy
move that sent Kydd's pot smashing to the floor. Curious eyes flickered from
other tables.}

_{'I'm
going out!' Renzi said thickly. T' breathe some o' the air of Venice. Are you
with me?'}

_{'An'
what about Leith?' Kydd wanted to know.}

_{A quick smile. 'Taken
by the French long ago,' Renzi said contemptuously, 'How can he get through a
whole army to us here? No chance. We make our time here as bearable as we can.
Are you coming?'}

_{Kydd saw that something
serious had affected his friend, and resolved to stay by him. 'I'll come,
Nicholas.' Larsson merely shook his head.}

_{The evening, drawing
in, had a spring coolness, but this did not deter the swelling numbers joining
the hurrying tradesmen, market porters and domestics concluding their working
day. An outrageously sequined and powdered harlequin stumbled by, well taken in
drink, and an apparition emerged from the shadows wearing a cruel bird's-head
mask and flowing blue cape. It trod softly, a thinly disguised Dulcinea on its
arm in a red silk swirling cape and a glittering mask.}

_{It was dream-like and disturbing: no one
took any notice of the grotesquerie in their midst. A group of masked revellers
turned the corner, laughing and singing to the discordant accompaniment of
timbrel and tambourine.}

_{Kydd
stood rooted in astonishment. 'Is this—'}

_{'Carnivale!' cackled Renzi harshly. 'The
world is aflame, and all they think of is carnival!'}

_{A couple passed,
exchanging kisses, elaborate coquetry with their masks doing little to conceal
the naked sensuousness of their acts. Renzi stopped, staring after them. 'But
who then is to say — in all logic, for God's sake — that they are the ones with
the perverted sense of the fitness of things, their perspectives malformed,
their humanity at question?'}

_{He breathed heavily,
watching a figure in a russet cloak approach. The man's mask had slipped,
exposing his foolish, inebriated grin as he staggered towards them. Renzi
tensed. The figure bent double against a wall and Renzi darted across and
toppled him over.}

_{'Camivale!' he howled
triumphantly, tore away the cloak and snatched up the ivory mask. ‘Se non ha
alcunia obbiezione' he threw at the fallen form.}

_{Kydd was appalled.
'Nicholas, you — you—' But Renzi had thrown the cloak around himself, and
pushed forcefully ahead, predatory eyes agleam through the cruel saturnalian
mask.}

_{Kydd hurried after him,
helpless in the face of the unknown demons that possessed his friend. The
narrow maze of streets now looked sinister, threatening. Renzi plunged on. A
small humped bridge appeared ahead, spanning a canal. The blaze of a link torch
carried by a servant preceded a decorous, well-dressed group, which scattered
at Renzi's advance.}

_{They were soon in an
ancient square with a dusky red church facing them. Light showed in its high
windows. As they thrust across, music swelled from it. Renzi faltered, then
stopped. It was a choral piece, the melodic line exquisitely sustained by a
faultless choir, the counterpoint in muted trumpet and strings a meltingly
lovely intertwining of harmonies.}

_{Kydd stopped, too, as the music entered
his soul. Within those moments came a dawning realisation that there were
regions of the human experience above the grossness of existence and beyond the
capability of the world to corrupt and destroy.}

_{He turned to Renzi, but
his friend was lost, staring at the church, rigid. Kydd tried to find some
words but, suddenly, Renzi crumpled to his knees. The mask fell and Kydd saw
his face distort and tears course down.}

_{'N-Nicholas—' He struggled to reach out
Around them the people of Venice busded with hardly a glance, the harlequins,
falcons and the rest in a blur of colour and impressions, and all the time the
cool passion of the music .. .}

_{Kydd tried to help
Renzi up, but he pulled himself free and shot to his feet}

_{'Nicholas—'}

_{Renzi rounded on him,
his face livid. 'Damn you!' he shouted. 'Damn you to hell!' His voice broke
with the passion of his words.}

_{'M'
friend, I only—'}

_{Renzi's savage
swing took Kydd squarely, and he was thrown to one side. He shook his head to
clear it, but when he was able to see, there was no sign of Renzi.}

Chapter 4

_{Images streamed past Renzi, as
bittersweet memories flooded back. He pushed past the gay troubadours, weary
craftsmen, giggling couples, bored gondoliers — on and on into the Venetian
night. His thoughts steadied, coalesced. For someone whose pride disallowed a
display of emotion, his sudden loss of control in the square was disturbing and
frightening.}

_{His frenetic pacing
calmed and he took note of his surroundings. He was heading in the direction of
the dark rabbit warrens around Santa Croce and turned to retrace his steps.
Then, recalling the soaring beauty of the Vivaldi that had so unfairly got
under his guard, he stopped, confused. In truth, he could not go back — or
forward.}

_{A memory of what had been returned in
full flower. The more he considered it, the more he yearned for her, the calm
certitude and steel-cored passion he remembered from before. He had to go to
her.}

_{Lucrezia Carradini was married, but that
had not mattered before and would not now; in the Venetian way it was a matter of
comment if a lady did not have at least one lover. He racked his brain to
recall her whereabouts — yes, it was somewhere near the Palazzo Farsetti on San
Marco side.}

_{With rising excitement
he made his way to the Grand Canal, taking an indolent gondola trip, then
stepping feverishly through the night until he found himself before the Palazzo
Carradini. He remembered the ogling brass-mouth knocker, but not the servant
who answered the door.}

_{‘Il giramondo’ he said,
as his name - 'the wanderer'. Would she remember?}

_{Footsteps came to the
door. He raised his mask. It opened slowly, and there was a woman before him,
in red velvet and a mask. Renzi saw the glitter of dark eyes behind the mask,
then it dropped to reveal a delighted Lucrezia. Her vivacity and Italianate
presence were just as he remembered. 'Niccolo — mio caro? Niccolo!' she
screamed, and clung to him, her warmth and fragrance intoxicating. He thrust
back guilt at the memory of how he had treated her and allowed himself to be
drawn into the house.}

_{In the opulence of the
chamber she eyed him keenly. 'You - you 'ave changed, Niccolo,' she said
softly. 'An' where Guglielmo?'}

_{It were better that his
wild companion of the Grand Tour be allowed to live down those days in
anonymity, Renzi decided. He was now one of England's most celebrated new
poets. 'Um, married,' he said. 'Lucrezia, I—' A flood of inchoate feelings and
unresolved doubts roared through his head.}

_{She looked at him
intendy. 'You're still the crazy one, Niccolo - and now you come?'}

_{'If
it does not inconvenience,' he said.}

_{Little more than a
child before, she had now firmed to a woman of grace and looks, and was just as
much in possession of her own soul.}

_{'Niccolo ... it is
Carnivale, not s' good to have heavy thoughts now, carissimi nonni?’ A shadow
passed over her face. Then she said impulsively, 'Come, we shall 'ave chocolate
at Florian's.'}

_{'But Carlo—'}

_{'It is Carnival. I don'
know where he is,' she said impatiently. 'We go in th' gondola Carradini.'}

_{The family gondola
waited by the small landing platform at the water frontage of the house,
varnished black with a shuttered cabin in the centre. Renzi allowed himself to
be handed aboard and the two gondoliers took position noiselessly, gazing
discreedy into the middle distance.}

_{Renzi and Lucrezia
settled into the cushions of the closed cabin, her features softened to a
tender loveliness by the little lamp. The craft pushed off with a gentle sway.
Firmly, she reached across and pulled the louvred shutters closed, and then,
just as purposefully, drew him to her.}

_{They stepped ashore arm in arm into
the magnificence of St Mark's Square, alive with excitement and colour, light
and sequins, noise and mystery. There was an electric charge in the air, a
feverish intensity that battered deliciously at the senses. They passed by the
looming campanile into the arched colonnades of the square,}

_{Renzi's spirits willingly
responding to the vibrancy of the atmosphere.}

_{Caffe Florian had, if anything,
increased in splendour. Outrageously clothed exquisites bowed to each other
under glittering chandeliers hanging from polished wood panelling, their
subdued voices occasionally broken through with silver}' laughter. Renzi and
Lucrezia sat together in a red padded alcove.}

_{'Questo mi piace,' Renzi breathed, but Lucrezia
held her silence until the chocolate came.}

_{Renzi did his best to
pull himself together. 'Tell me, what of this Buonaparte? Does he threaten
Venice, do you think?'}

_{She went rigid:
he could see her eyes darting furtively behind the mask, scanning the room.
'Niccolo — pliss, never say again!' She lowered her mask so he could see her
seriousness. 'Venezia, it is not like you remember. It is dangerous times now,
ver' dangerous!' He could hardly hear her soft words, and bent forward. She
smiled, popped a sweetmeat into his mouth, and continued in a whisper,
affecting to impart endearments: 'The Council of Ten have th' Inquisition, an
army of spies, look everywhere for th' Jacobin.' Renzi could sense her tension
behind the gay smile. 'Ever'where — you never know who.'}

_{She slid towards him,
close enough that her words could not be intercepted. 'Carlo, he brings wine
from Friuli, he says French are all over nort' Italy like locust, nothing can
stop them, not even th' Austrians.' Staring at her drink, she went on,
'Montenotte, Lodi — that Buonaparte, he will not be contented with this. And he
advance ver' fast — an' all the Veneqani think to do is more spies — and
Carnivale’}

_{Renzi
caught her eye. 'As it's said, "Venetians don't taste their pleasures,
they swallow them whole"!'}

_{She giggled, then
sobered again. 'Niccolo — don' you trust anyone, not anyone!'}

_{'Not
even you?' he teased.}

_{'You must trust me,'
she said seriously. Then she cupped her chin in her hands and looked up at him.
'Il giramondo — you are ver' strong now, I feel it.'}