At dinner Mosca and Riccio fooled around so much that Victor grumbled that it would have been quieter with a bunch of monkeys at the table. But Prosper never said a word.
After dinner, while the others played cards with Ida and Victor, Prosper went upstairs. Ida had found a couple of air mattresses so that they wouldn’t be too crowded on the two beds that Riccio had already pushed together. Hornet had put one of them by the wall and piled her books around it. Riccio and Mosca hadn’t dared to leave even a single one of her precious stories behind in the movie theater. Prosper dragged the second air mattress to the window so he could see Ida’s garden and the canal behind it. The blankets from Lucia’s linen cupboard smelled of lavender. Prosper curled up in them, but he couldn’t fall asleep.
In fact he was still awake when the others crept under their blankets. It was eleven o’clock when Victor finally said good-bye, swaying gently, driven home by his guilty conscience to his hungry tortoises. Prosper pretended to be asleep. He lay with his face to the wall and waited for his friends to doze off.
As soon as Riccio was giggling in his sleep, Mosca snoring beneath his blanket, and Hornet finally sleeping with a happy smile between her books, Prosper got up. The well-worn floorboards creaked beneath his feet, but that didn’t wake any of the others. They had never before felt as safe as this, secure in Ida’s house.
Lucia had kept the door to the garden firmly bolted ever since Ida had told her how the children had crept into the house that night. The door squeaked gently as Prosper opened it. He stepped into the dark garden. There was a coating of white frost over everything.
At the point where Ida’s garden bordered the canal there was a gate in the wall, just a few inches above the waterline. As he unlatched it, Prosper heard the canal water slosh against the base of the wall. Ida’s boat swayed, tightly moored, between two painted wooden posts. Prosper carefully climbed into the boat, sat down on the cold wooden bench, and looked up at the moon.
What should I do? he thought. Tell me, what should I do?
But the moon did not answer.
In her stories about Venice, Prosper’s mother had always talked about the moon — how it could make dreams come true. They called the moon la bella luna here, as if she were a beautiful lady. But ask as he might, Prosper knew that she wasn’t going to help him get his brother back.
Prosper sat in Ida’s boat and let the tears run down his face. He had believed that this was his city — his and Bo’s. He used to believe that if they came here — the most beautiful city in the world — then they would be safe from Esther.
Esther despised Venice. She was an intruder. Why didn’t the pigeons poop all over her? Why didn’t the marble dragons bite her in the neck and the winged lions chase her out of their city? How wonderful they had seemed the first time Prosper had seen them with his very own eyes, after learning so much about them from his mother. He had looked up and there they were, standing like sentinels among the stars on their pillars. He had felt they were the guardians not just of Venice’s splendors — but of him too.
He had felt as safe as a king in the center of his realm, protected by lions and dragons — and by the water all around them. Esther hated the water. She was afraid to even board a ship. But still she had come here and taken Bo from him.
Prosper wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve. He heard a motorboat coming down the canal so he sank down in the boat and waited for it to pass. But it didn’t. The engine stopped, and Prosper heard someone cursing under his breath. Then something bumped hard against Ida’s boat. Prosper carefully poked his head out.
It was Scipio! He smiled with such happiness that Prosper forgot for a moment why he had tears in his eyes.
“Look who’s here!” said the Thief Lord. “Well, if that’s not a coincidence. I’ve come to pick you up!”
“Pick me up? And take me where?” Prosper scrambled to his feet. “Where did you get the boat?” It was beautiful, built of dark wood and decorated with golden ornaments.
“It’s my father’s,” Scipio answered. He patted the boat as if it was a thoroughbred horse. “It’s his pride and joy. I’ve borrowed it — and just now it got its first scratch.”
“How did you know we were here?” Prosper asked.
“Mosca called me.” Scipio looked up at the moon. “He told me that the Conte tricked us. And Bo is with your aunt, is that right?”
Prosper nodded and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. He didn’t want Scipio to see that he’d been crying.
“I’m sorry.” Scipio said gently. “It was stupid of us to leave him alone with Hornet, wasn’t it?”
Prosper didn’t reply, although he had had the same thought at least a hundred times.
“Prop?” Scipio cleared his throat. “I’m driving out to the Isola Segreta. Will you come with me?”
Prosper stared at him, astounded.
“The Conte cheated us.” Scipio lowered his voice as if someone might be listening. “He took us for a ride. Either he gives me the money, real money this time, or he lets me take a ride on the merry-go-round. It’s on that island, I’m sure it is.”
Prosper shook his head. “You don’t really believe in that story, do you? Forget it — and forget the money. So we were cheated. Tough luck. Riccio’s already working out how he can spend the fake money. And nobody wants to go back to that island. Not even for a whole bag full of real riches.”
Scipio fiddled with the string of his mask and looked at Prosper. “I want to go there,” he said. “With you. I want to ride that merry-go-round. And if the Conte won’t let me, then I’ll take the wing back. Come with me, Prop. What have you got to lose, now that Bo is gone?”
Prosper stared at his hands. A child’s hands. He thought of the condescending look he had received from the porter at the Sandwirth. He thought of his bulky uncle and how he had walked next to Bo, his hand possessively on his brother’s thin shoulder. And suddenly Prosper wished that Scipio were right. He wished that out there, on that island, there really was something that could turn the small and weak into the big and strong. And suddenly he knew what he wanted to do. Without another word he jumped into Scipio’s boat.
40
It was a very dark night. The moon kept vanishing behind the scudding clouds. Although Scipio had stolen his father’s sea chart, they still lost their way twice. The first time the sight of the island cemetery had saved them. And when Murano appeared out of the darkness they knew they had gone too far west. Finally, when they were frozen so stiff they could hardly move their fingers anymore, the wall of the Isola Segreta, pale and gray in the moonlight, appeared out of the night. The stone angels looked down at them as if they’d been expecting them.
Scipio throttled back the engine. The Conte’s boat swayed with its furled sails by the jetty. Prosper heard the dogs barking.
“What now?” he whispered to Scipio. “How are you going to get past the mastiffs?”
“Do you think I’m so stupid that I’d climb over the gate?” Scipio answered quietly. “We’ll try the back.”
Prosper said nothing, although he didn’t think this was a particularly smart plan. Still, they had no choice if they wanted to get on to that island.
The dogs only fell silent once the boys had turned off the boat lights. Scipio steered the boat close to the shore. He was looking for a hole in the wall. In some places the wall rose straight out of the water and in others it stood behind a thicket of reeds. It seemed to surround the whole island. Finally, Scipio lost his patience.
“That’s it. We’re climbing over,” he whispered. He switched off the engine and dropped the anchor into the water.
“And how are we going to get ashore?” Prosper stared uneasily into the darkness. There was still quite a distance between the boat and the island. “Are we going to swim?”
“No, of course not! Give me a hand here.” From a hatch by the steering wheel Scipio pulled out a dinghy and two oars. Prosper was amazed that a bit of rubber coul
d be so heavy as he helped Scipio to heave it overboard.
Their breath hung in the air like white mist as they paddled toward the island. They hid the boat in the reeds growing at the base of the wall. From this close the wall seemed even higher. Prosper threw his head back and looked up. He began to wonder seriously whether the mastiffs only guarded the gate …
The boys were out of breath when they eventually sat next to each other on top of the rough ledge. Their hands were grazed, but they had done it. A huge overgrown garden lay in front of them. Hedges, bushes, and paths, all were white with frost.
“Can you see it?” Scipio asked.
Prosper shook his head. No, he couldn’t see the merry-go-round. All he could see was a big house rising gloomily between the trees.
Climbing down the wall was even harder than climbing up it. The boys landed in dense, thorny scrub and when they finally managed to free themselves they hesitated, not sure in which direction to go.
“The merry-go-round’s got to be behind the house,” Scipio whispered. “Otherwise we would’ve seen it from up there.”
“Right,” Prosper whispered. He looked around.
A rustling sound came from the bushes and then something small and dark darted across the path. Prosper could see tracks in the snow. Bird tracks and paw prints. Rather large paw prints.
“Let’s try that path there!” Scipio walked ahead.
The path was lined with mossy statues. Some of them had almost been swallowed up by the thicket. At one stage Prosper thought he could hear footsteps behind them, but when he turned around it was just a bird, fluttering out of an overgrown hedge. It didn’t take long for them to get lost. Soon they weren’t even sure in which direction the boat lay or even the house they’d seen from the wall.
“Darn. Why don’t you walk ahead, Prop?” Scipio suggested as they came across their own footprints. But Prosper didn’t answer.
He had heard something. But this time it wasn’t a bird they had startled from its sleep. This sounded like panting, short and sharp, followed by a growl, low and quiet and threatening, coming out of the darkness. Prosper forgot to breathe. He turned around very slowly — and there they were, hardly three steps away, as if they had risen right out of the snow. Two huge white mastiffs.
“Don’t move, Scip!” Prosper whispered. “If we run, they’ll hunt us down.”
“Will they bite if I shake with fear?” Scipio whispered back.
The dogs were still snarling. They came closer, their heads lowered, the fur standing up on their necks, and their teeth bared. My legs are just going to start running whether I tell them to or not, Prosper thought.
“Bimba! Bella! Basta — enough!” a voice called from behind them.
The dogs immediately stopped growling and leaped past Prosper and Scipio. Confused, the boys turned around and found themselves staring into the beam of a flashlight. A girl of perhaps nine or ten years of age was standing behind them on the path. The black dress she was wearing completely swamped her. The dogs came up to her shoulders; she could have ridden on their backs.
“What have we here?” she said. “How fortunate that I like to go for walks in the moonlight. What are you doing here?” The dogs cocked their ears as she raised her voice. “Don’t you know what happens to people who sneak onto the Isola Segreta?”
Scipio and Prosper looked at each other.
“We want to see the Conte,” Scipio answered. He sounded as if there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the fact that they were prowling around in someone else’s garden in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was because the girl was smaller than him that Scipio sounded a little less frightened. Prosper, however, thought the mastiffs made up for that advantage. The dogs guarded her as if they’d tear to shreds anyone who came near her.
“The Conte? Well, well. So you like to pay visits at midnight?” The girl shined her flashlight into Scipio’s face.
Then she pointed it at Prosper, who blinked uneasily into its light.
“We had a deal with the Conte,” Scipio shouted, “but he cheated us. We might let the matter rest, though, if he lets us take a ride on the merry-go-round. The merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters.”
“A merry-go-round?” The girl’s eyes turned even more hostile. “What do you mean.”
“We know it’s here! Show it to us!” Scipio made a step toward her, but the dogs immediately bared their teeth. “If the Conte doesn’t let us take a ride on it, we’ll go to the police.”
“What a generous offer!” The girl looked at him with amusement. “And what makes you think he’d ever let you go again? This is the Isola Segreta. You must know the stories. Nobody who’s ever visited this island has lived to tell the tale. Now move!” She pointed down a path to their left that wound into the bushes. “That way. Don’t try to run. Believe me, my dogs are faster than you.”
The boys hesitated.
“Do as I say!” the girl shouted angrily. “Or you’re dog food.”
“Come on, Scip!” Prosper grabbed Scipio’s arm. Reluctantly, Scipio let himself be pulled along.
The dogs stayed so close behind the boys that they could feel their breath on their necks. From time to time, Scipio looked around as if to check whether it would be worth making a run for the bushes, but each time Prosper held on to his sleeve.
“Caught by a girl!” Scipio groaned. “I’m just glad Mosca and Riccio aren’t here.”
“If she really takes us to the Conte,” Prosper whispered, “then you’d better not threaten him with the police. Who knows what he’ll do to us?”
Scipio nodded. He turned around again to look at the dogs.
They soon found out where the girl was taking them. The house, which Prosper had seen from the wall, soon emerged between the trees. It was huge, even bigger than Scipio’s. It looked abandoned and dilapidated, even in the usually flattering moonlight. The plaster was coming off the walls and the blinds hung crookedly in front of dark windows. The roof had enough holes for the moon to shine through it. A set of broad steps led up to the main entrance. Stone angels leaned down from the balustrade — the salty air had eaten away their features and they were now as fuzzy as the coat of arms above the door.
“Oh no. Not up there!” said the girl as Scipio walked toward the steps. “The Conte will most certainly not talk to you tonight. You will spend the rest of the night in the old stables. Over there.” She made an impatient gesture toward a low building next to the house. Scipio, however, didn’t move.
“No!” he said and folded his arms. “You think you can order us around, just because you’ve got these dogs from hell with you? I want to see the Conte. Now.”
The girl clicked her tongue, and the dogs pushed their snouts into the boys’ bellies. The boys slowly backed away toward the bottom of the steps.
“You won’t be seeing anyone tonight,” the girl said to them in a sharp voice, “apart, that is, from the rats in the stables. The Conte is sleeping. He will decide tomorrow morning what we will do with you. And think yourself lucky. At least you won’t be thrown into the lagoon right away.”
Scipio angrily bit his lip, but the dogs began to growl again so Prosper quickly dragged him away.
“Better do what she says, Scip!” he urged as they walked toward the stables, which looked just as decrepit as the main house. “We’ve got all night to think about what to do next. And we can’t do that if we end up as the dogs’ dinner. And you won’t be riding the merry-go-round then either.”
“OK, OK.” Scipio flashed the girl a vicious look.
“Please enter, gentlemen!” she said, opening the stable doors. It was pitch black inside and they were greeted by a stench that made Scipio’s face screw up in disgust.
“In there?” he called. “Do you want to kill us?”
“Would you rather I left you the dogs for company?” the girl asked. She put her hands on the mastiffs’ huge heads.
“Come on now, Scip!” Prosper pulled Scipio into the dark bu
ilding. A few rats scurried away as the girl shined her light after them.
“There should be some old sacks back there,” she said. “They should do for the night. The rats are not very hungry. There’s enough for them to eat around here, so they won’t bother you tonight. You can forget about finding a way out of here — there isn’t one. I will also leave the dogs outside. Buonanotte!” With that she shut the door. Prosper heard her push a heavy bolt across it. The darkness was so complete that Prosper couldn’t even see his own hands.
“Prop!” Scipio whispered next to him. “Are you afraid of rats? I’m scared to death.”
“I’ve gotten used to them. We had lots in the movie theater.” Prosper listened in the darkness. He heard the girl talking to the dogs outside. She spoke to them with a quiet, tender voice.
“How sweet,” Scipio muttered. Suddenly, there was a rustling noise behind him, and Scipio gave such a start that he nearly knocked Prosper over.
They heard the girl’s steps receding and the dogs settling down in front of the door. As soon as their eyes had gotten used to the dark, they searched for the sacks the girl had mentioned. But when a rat ran over Scipio’s foot they decided not to sleep on the floor. Instead, they found two wooden barrels to lie on, and propped them against the wall.
“He’ll just have to let us take a ride!” Scipio said after a while into the blackness. “I mean, he was the one who cheated on us.”