Winds of Folly (30 page)

‘First he butchers Dandolo before my very eyes – on the steps of a convent, forsooth – and then he bribes one of my own servants to feed me some foul toxin. I have been sick as a dog these past few weeks or more. I have shed several stone in weight, my intestines are near destroyed.' He clutched his lower abdomen to ensure they were still there. ‘God knows what substance I have been subjected to, but I assure you I am a shadow of the man I once was.'

He was by no means insubstantial now, Nathan thought, though the flesh sagged about his jowls and there was an unhealthy pallor to his complexion that might have been the result of the toxin or too little exposure to the light of day.

Nathan knew of his reputation, of course. His divorce from Lady Worsley had been one of the great scandals of the age, Sir Richard having brought a case of ‘criminal conversation' against her lover, thus exposing the details of their private life to public appraisal. Though he had won the case, the jury had been so unimpressed by Sir Richard's own lack of integrity that
they had awarded him a mere shilling in damages. But despite this embarrassment and his more recent misadventures at the hands of the Devil, the 7th Baronet clearly maintained an extremely high opinion of himself and a corresponding concern for his own safety.

He had come to Murano, he said, because it was one of the few places in the
Serenissima
not infested with the Devil's agents, the Ten having made an agreement with the ‘glass men' to spare them the inconvenience of police surveillance, provided they retained their skills for the exclusive use of the
Serenissima
.

‘I will not say I feel secure here,' he informed Nathan, ‘but I am as secure as I ever will be in this damned hellhole.'

Unfortunately, it had caused him to be rather more cut off from human contact than was desirable in a foreign envoy. He had brought with him only a handful of English-speaking servants and a woman who had introduced herself as Mrs Smith, a lady of about his own age who was more in the nature of a companion, Nathan was led to believe. Nathan was left in her company while the Ambassador retired to read the despatches he had brought, and they did their best to entertain each other as the sun slipped below the distant peaks of the Dolomites on the mainland and the shadows spread out over the lagoon. A servant came with a taper to light the lamps and Nathan wondered if he was here for the night. He was about to ask if he might speak with Kyrgyakos, who had been left with the boatman and would be becoming more surly and disgruntled by the minute, when Sir Richard returned. Mrs Smith murmured her excuses and left them to their private consultation.

‘You say Dandolo was murdered by Cristolfi,' Nathan prompted him. ‘Or at least on his orders. But what could be the reason?'

‘How would I know? Possibly because Dandolo had a degree of ambition. That is quite enough to get you killed in Venice. Perhaps the other members of the Ten thought he would endanger their precious neutrality. It will not save them, of course. The French could move on them any time they wished. I have already packed up my collection and pretty well shut up shop. Damned place is finished one way or another.'

He appraised Nathan slyly. ‘So you have a squadron at your disposal?'

‘I would not say a squadron, sir,' Nathan corrected him, but not without a degree of pride. ‘I have a frigate and a pair of sloops.'

‘Even so, it is reassuring to know that we have the means of deliverance, should it become necessary. I do not fear for my own safety, you understand, but it would be a tragedy to lose my collections. A tragedy.' He dwelled upon the momentousness of this for a moment. ‘I have some Old Masters that I was able to obtain at an excellent price due to the uncertainties of war and revolution, and I do not mind telling you I had rather see them in the hold of a British man-o'-war than in Bonaparte's baggage train on their way to the Louvre.'

Nathan declined to inform him that this was not the main purpose of his mission to the Adriatic. ‘But why would Bonaparte take the trouble of coming to Venice?' he chose to enquire. ‘Surely it would be a mere diversion for him, when his prime concern is to knock Austria out of the war.'

‘Then why does he have troops in the Veneto?' Sir Richard demanded forcefully. ‘The French have had garrisons in Verona and Vicenza for the past month or more. Their cavalry press to the very edge of the lagoon. Besides, he may not
have
to come to Venice. Venice is by way of coming to him.'

Nathan queried this phenomenon with a frown and the Ambassador went on to confirm Spiridion's assertion that
the city was infested with French agents and sympathisers – ‘Freemasons and the like' – and that every success of Bonaparte added strength to their importuning.

‘So where would that leave the Venetian fleet?'

The Ambassador sighed. ‘Well, I did entertain hopes of securing it for the alliance, of course, as you will know, and the Ionians with it, until the murder of Dandolo. Now we have old Nani to contend with.'

It had been on Nathan's mind to tell the Ambassador of his capture of the
Jean-Bart
and what he had learned of the French interest in the islands, but now something held him back. Sir Richard was not a man to inspire confidence, or the disclosure of confidences. The information would keep, Nathan decided, until he returned to Corsica.

‘Old nanny?' he said instead.

‘Nani. Giacomo Nani, the old Admiral. Dandolo's successor.'

‘And he is not inclined in our support?'

‘He is inclined to a quiet life. He is seventy-six years of age and he will do whatever the Ten tell him to do. He knows what will happen if he does not.'

‘And there is no one else?'

‘In the Navy?' The Ambassador thought about it. ‘Well, there is Tommaso Condulmer – his deputy. He is efficient enough. And I am told he is ambitious. As to his loyalties …' He shrugged. ‘I expect they might be bought for the right sum, as any commodity in Venice.'

‘Might he be approached?'

‘Not directly. If it were to be reported that the Venetian Vice-Admiral had been enticed by an officer of the British Navy, there would be hell to pay.'

Nathan confided that he had not presented himself as an officer of the British Navy, but as a wealthy American merchant embarked upon the Grand Tour.

‘I see.' Sir Richard observed him shrewdly. Then, after a moment's pause: ‘And this is something our masters have set their minds upon?'

‘I believe they consider it vital to keep the Venetian fleet out of French hands,' Nathan informed him. But he must know that already if he had read the despatches from the Viceroy. Nathan could tell from his face that he had and that he did – and was working out how to keep his own neck out of the noose.

‘Well, I am not personally acquainted with Condulmer, but there is someone I know who is. Certainly, she is better placed to advise you than I am. She was a close friend of Dandolo's. In fact …' But whatever he was going to say he thought better of it.

‘She?'

‘Yes. Her names is Sister Caterina.'

‘She is a nun?'

‘She is the Deputy Prioress of the Convent of San Paolo di Mare. That, at least, is her official function. In truth she is a great deal more than that. A very powerful and dangerous woman: there are some who call her the uncrowned Queen of Venice. Others say she is involved in the Black Arts, but of course, this is said of many women. Fortunately for us, she is very much opposed to the French interest. She is almost certainly in the pay of the Austrians. I know they are our Allies but our interests do not always coincide, and besides, she has other motives. I suppose one might say she was a patriot, if she were not a woman. She is as addicted to political intrigue as other women are to cards or the exigencies of fashion. But she is closely watched. The death of Dandolo on the steps of her own convent was a warning to her – not to meddle in the affairs of the Ten. I doubt she has heeded it, but she must be approached with care. Are you a gambling man, sir? Do you frequent houses of ill-repute?'

Nathan was somewhat startled by this sudden change of subject. But apparently it was not.

‘The Convent of San Paolo possesses a certain notoriety as a bawdy house,' the Ambassador informed him. ‘Also, it has a very fine gaming room. You look surprised, sir. Be assured it does not raise an eyebrow in Venice. There are several convents that provide, shall we say,
specialist
forms of entertainment. Indeed, they pride themselves on catering for every taste. Very
catholic
, do you see, ha ha.'

Nathan shook his head. ‘I am sorry to be so naive. I had been told to expect a certain level of depravity, but I had not thought to find the convents so affected.'

‘Shocking, is it not? It could never happen in England, at least not with real nuns. But it does give you an approach that might succeed in misleading the Devil's acolytes. In your role as an American abroad, eager to sample all the
Serenissima
has to offer, you might conceivably be attracted to such an amenity, do you not think?'

So much for
virgo intacta
, Nathan reflected privately.

‘But beware, my friend: these people are not to be trifled with. These are not “Honourable Gentlemen” who call each other names across the floor of the House of Commons, or fight with pistols at dawn. And do not think for one moment that I can save you. This is a country of intrigue, poison and the
stiletto
. One false move and you will feel it twisting in your guts. Or, if they take an especial dislike to you, they will cut off the parts you prize the most and toss you into the Canale Orfano with a rock where once they resided.'

T
hough not without his failings, Nathan had never before visited a brothel; nor, for that matter, a convent. It was convenient to find them unexpectedly combined.

And despite his reservations, he did admit to a certain curiosity as to how the business was managed, so to speak.

It was unfortunate that it clashed with the prior invitation from Mr Devereux to accompany him to an evening of Handel arias with his wife and daughter, but Nathan sent a note round to the American Consulate with his regrets, explaining that he was indisposed – something he had eaten, perhaps – and braced himself for a very different evening with the nuns of San Paolo di Mare.

He left Kyrgyakos behind for once – the Ambassador had said that the nuns, being educated women, all spoke sufficient French for him to make himself understood – and walked the short distance from St Mark's.

The convent was as brightly lit as Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens on a Saturday night and exerted as strong a pull, it appeared,
on the less principled members of society. Nathan stood in the shadows opposite and watched them flutter into the lamplight, like brightly patterned moths only too eager to be burned. Some came on foot, others in a series of uniformly black gondolas, while two burly male attendants subjected them to critical examination at the door. Nathan chose a moment when two gentlemen had been turned away by these guardians of virtue and then crossed the footbridge and presented himself for inspection. He had timed it well – or possessed the qualities of the affluent debauchee – for they admitted him without question. He crossed the stone-flagged
corte
and was directed by another gentleman up a broad flight of stairs to the
piano nobile
where, after being relieved of his cloak and hat by yet another attendant, he entered the reception room.

This was distinguished by a large iron grille which divided it down the middle, rather as the nave is divided from the choir in a church. Behind it sat a number of young women – presumably the nuns, or their pupils, though none of them wore the traditional habit and veil. On the contrary, all were attired in the finest silks and satins and with scant concern for modesty. Their visitors conversed with them through the grille or with each other, while servants circulated with refreshments and a dwarf performed handstands for their entertainment. Nathan joined the fringes of this happy throng and attempted to make himself inconspicuous by studying the paintings on the walls and on the ceiling, though he was too nervous to be as engrossed as he might have been, and he kept a weather eye upon the dwarf, who had begun to make a nuisance of himself. At the same time, he made a careful study of the features that were most relevant to his mission.

In Venice, the Ambassador had assured him, appearance was everything. And as far as appearances went, this was an entirely proper occasion, providing an opportunity for the nuns
of a semi-closed Order to enjoy a visit from friends and family under the careful supervision of their superiors. Indeed, some of the visitors, perhaps the majority,
were
friends and family. But others were not. Others were here for entirely less honourable reasons and everyone knew it, but – for appearance's sake – they were obliged to follow certain procedures, which had been outlined to Nathan in some detail by the Ambassador.