She laughed.
“I had to hold it in,” I said. “But perhaps you knew I was an impostor all along.”
“I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry I deceived you.”
She shook her head. “I just wish you hadn’t gone away.”
“I had no choice. And I didn’t write to you because I knew all the mail at the Ospedale passed through Marta. I wanted you to know why I went away.”
“I understand. When Prudenza told me the truth about you, as you asked her to, I was shocked and hurt. Then I learned what had happened in the wine cellar. And Bartolomeo filled me in on your history.” She shuddered. “Where would I be now if they had not admitted you to the Ospedale in the first place?”
“It didn’t help that I got myself thrown out.”
“On the contrary, you set my departure in motion that very night. You see, after Aldo’s expulsion, the Master went on tour, and Marta and Luca did whatever they liked.”
“So they were both in on it.”
“And Carmine. All of them abetted by Marina and Genevieve, who evidently were rewarded for their treachery by being betrayed themselves, turned over to Aldo’s employers, who buy and sell girls, to become their concubines. Without checks on them, Marta and Luca grew increasingly reckless. Another girl, Carmona dal Flauto, disappeared a few months after you left. Then the worst happened. Remember Anita dal Timpano? A skinny girl with red hair. She, too, disappeared one night, and a few days later we learned that she had been found floating in the Rio San Stefano with her throat cut.”
“My god. How did you find out?”
“The Contessa Barbera had made a large contribution to the Ospedale, and when she heard about Anita, she returned and put up a stink, demanding her money back. The word was that Aldo and his gang had done it. They kidnapped her, she resisted, and scrawny as she was, they decided she was more trouble than she was worth, and they killed her.”
“So Aldo is not just a scoundrel, but a murderer.”
“A monster. After I heard of Anita’s death, I decided I would run as far away as possible and never go back. We seldom performed anymore, but that week we had a concert at the Palazzo Mocenigo, sponsored by the Duke and Duchess of Alba. My plan was to slip away the moment we finished playing. I plotted it out carefully. I gave a soldo to one of the footmen to find me a boatman who would row me to Murano, where I hoped to hide out in a boardinghouse. Don’t laugh, but I planned to disguise myself as a boy and play my viola on the street for money. I thought to myself: if you could do it, I could, too. Then something happened that changed everything for me. The Duke and Duchess have two daughters, and their nanny was watching over them at the concert. An old woman with a hook nose, long white hair, and a limp—I would have known her anywhere. She was my former nanny, Consuela, who had taken me to the Ospedale when my mother was dying. I had never seen her again, until that night, crossing paths with her in a corridor as I made my way toward the palazzo’s pier. It took her a moment to recognize me, but then she threw her arms around me and wept. She said the day she had taken me to the Ospedale was one of the worst in her life. That she had always regretted it, and so on. Then suddenly she took my hand and led me into a parlor where her two charges were sleeping.
“ ‘There is something I must tell you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been carrying it around with me all these years. It may come as a shock to you, but no matter.’
“I couldn’t imagine what she was talking about.
“ ‘Do you know who your father was?’
“Her question went right through me like a knife, for all my life I had hoped I would be able to answer it. I told her I knew no more than I had the day my mother died, which was nothing.
“ ‘Your father is the Duke of Modena,’ she whispered.
“I couldn’t believe it, Nicolò.
“ ‘It’s true,’ Consuela said. ‘He was your mother’s lover. You are the Duke’s daughter, his only living child. His son was killed in the Sardinian war, and his daughter died of scarlet fever just last year. His remaining relatives, his sister, the Baronessa Casina, and her daughter, have practically moved into the palace, but the Duke has kept them at arm’s length. Seek him out and reveal to him who you are. I feel sure it will mean a great deal to him—and to you,’ she added.
“With that, she went back upstairs, and I ventured out to the palazzo’s pier, but the footman had pocketed my money and lied to me. There was no boat waiting. I had no choice but to return to the Ospedale with the rest of the orchestra. I bided my time, plotting out how I could travel to Modena and secure an audience with the Duke. I hadn’t been so excited in years. The Duke of Modena! That must have been the man I had seen through the window that day, talking with my mother while I waited in the carriage. That is, of course, if Consuela was telling the truth—and what reason would she have to lie to me after so many years? Then I heard about Julietta’s fate in Padua, and I determined that I would somehow help her escape and then go on to Modena to seek my father. You know the rest.”
“So you are a princess, Adriana.”
“No. Unless he adopts me—which is anything but certain—I am the illegitimate daughter of a Duke. And who knows if he will be as thrilled to meet me as Consuela thinks. Anyway, I have begun to have my doubts about the whole matter. I am more fearful than hopeful. I sent two letters to the Duke of Modena, requesting an audience, identifying myself by my mother’s name, but I’ve received no reply. Either it is not true, after all, or it is true, and he wants no part of me.”
“Or his sister the Baronessa is intercepting your letters.” I had been around aristocrats in Vienna long enough, hearing their tales of court intrigue, to know that this was the likely answer.
“Yes, I know, like Marta. Even so, I have no idea if the Duke was aware that I was at the Ospedale, or if he ever made an effort to find me. I don’t know if he’s a good man, warmhearted or cold. I don’t know anything about him.”
“I will get you in to see him,” I said boldly.
“You? But how?”
Even as she related all this to me, I was hatching a plan, but I didn’t want to share it with her just yet.
“Trust me, I will do it.”
She took my hand. “I do trust you, Nicolò. I can’t think of anyone I trust more.”
She leaned closer and kissed me on the lips this time. I embraced her and breathed in her scent. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time. Then a darker thought crossed my mind. I looked around the pretty room and saw more beautiful clothes hanging in the closet and an array of perfumes on the dressing table.
“Massimo told me about his offer to you. Are you really thinking of becoming one of his assistants?”
She shook her head. “I considered it, but not for very long. I am a musician, not an accompanist. Moreover, I need to go to Modena. That is what I want to do, first and foremost.”
“Good.”
“I’m glad you agree,” she smiled.
“Have you shared with him what your nanny told you?”
“No. You’re the only one I’ve told.”
“Let’s keep it that way until we get to Modena.”
4
After dinner, we were drinking Massimo’s burdock tea when Lodovico brought in a plate of candied truffles.
“These truffles come from my own garden,” Massimo said, putting one in his mouth. “You may have seen the pig that digs them up for me.”
“He wasn’t here the last time I visited,” I said.
“No, he is a new addition to our household. However, he was once someone you knew, Nicolò—before he was a pig. An exceptionally greedy individual, who, true to form, resorted to stealing. In fact, he stole from you.”
A chill ran through me. “Stefan?”
“He wanted riches: he can dig for them now, with his snout.” He ate another truffle. “They are an expensive food, and he provides a steady supply.”
Adriana had no idea what he was talking about, but Meta di
d and, averting her eyes, didn’t say a word.
As Lodovico refilled our teacups, Adriana, politely but firmly, told Massimo she would be eternally grateful for everything he had done, but had to decline the offer of becoming his assistant.
Massimo’s face darkened. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. There are matters I must attend to. Perhaps one day I will join an orchestra again.”
Massimo was annoyed, but anticipating this, Adriana added smoothly, “I do know of someone who would make an ideal assistant, and I believe she would jump at the opportunity.”
I looked at her quizzically.
“My dearest friend, Julietta, whom Nicolò has brought back to Venice. She is a talented musician on several instruments and very poised. Is that not true, Nicolò?”
I nodded agreement.
“How can you be so sure she would be interested?” Massimo asked.
“Because I know her as well as I know myself.”
Massimo turned to me. “Where is this Julietta now?” he said impatiently.
“Not twenty minutes from here.”
“All right, then, go fetch her.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. The sooner I know, the better. Meta will accompany you.”
Meta looked surprised but, excusing herself, went to get a shawl.
“Of course I’m disappointed, Adriana,” Massimo muttered, “but I wish you the best. So you’ll be leaving here soon.”
“Yes.”
“With Nicolò, I expect.”
We exchanged glances, and she smiled. “Yes, he will be with me.”
“Well, then, don’t linger, Nicolò. I’ll have Lodovico brew more tea. And while we await your return, perhaps Adriana will favor me with one of Master Vivaldi’s sonatas on her viola.”
5
It was past ten o’clock when Meta and I set out. It was a dark, cloudy night, and the streets were nearly deserted.
Leaving the house, I glanced toward the small park. “Is that really Stefan?” I said. “Can Massimo do that?”
“He can do much worse than that,” Meta replied. “He is fond of you. And it’s clear you’re more worldly than the last time you visited. But never let down your guard with him.”
Before we turned off the Ramo Regina, I reached into my pocket. “I brought you something. From your sister.”
She took the box and searched out my face in the gloomy light. “From Lila?”
“She gave it to me just before I left Vienna. She asked me to tell you that you and she would soon be reunited.”
“She said that?”
“Those were her exact words.”
“Excuse me a moment, Nicolò,” Meta said, turning her back on me and walking a few steps away.
I heard her unwrap the box, and gasp when she opened it. Then she stood still for a long moment, slipped something inside her cloak, and returned to me. “Let’s go,” she said, and it was clear she wasn’t going to reveal the contents of the box.
We proceeded toward Signora Gramani’s house, but had gone only about twenty paces when a cluster of shadows against a wall came to life and several cloaked figures rushed toward us.
“It’s her!” one of them called out.
“Get him first,” another ordered.
They were all over us in a matter of seconds. Six boys—the tallest of them remaining in the shadows, spitting out orders.
“Bring her here,” the tall one said.
I recognized that voice.
“Let go of me!” Meta cried.
“You’re sure it’s her?” Aldo asked.
“It’s her, I tell you.”
“It is,” another boy called out.
Meanwhile, one of the others put me in a vise hold from behind, pinning my arms back, while his partner pummeled me.
“Leave me alone!” Meta screamed.
Three of them were dragging her to the wall where they had been hiding, waiting to jump us. Two of them pinned her arms while the third put his hands around her neck and began choking her.
“Help me!” she screamed before her breathing was cut off.
“Now you can watch your Adriana die slowly,” Aldo laughed, “and still be able to say goodbye.”
“Adriana?” I gasped, tasting blood in my mouth.
“Don’t try to bluff me. All of these boys saw her before, and now they recognized her at once. After tonight, no one will ever see her again.”
“You’re making a mistake, Aldo.”
“No, you’re the one who made a mistake,” he said, limping toward me, supporting himself with a cane. “I have to use this because of what you did to me.” He raised the cane and brought it down on my head.
He’s going to kill me, too, I thought, and when they’re done, they’ll drop us both into the Lagoon.
Then I heard Meta scream again, just as Aldo was raising his cane a second time. And through the blood pouring down my forehead I saw that she had somehow broken free of one of the boys. Her dress was torn off at the shoulder, and she was scratching the face of the other boy. He pushed her against the wall and began hitting her, and the other two boys joined him, raining down punches.
I closed my eyes, awaiting another blow myself, when suddenly I heard a terrible shriek from one of the boys attacking Meta. Then the other boy screamed, and as they both fell away from her, I saw the flash of a knife in her hand as she plunged it into the boy who had tried to choke her, who cursed loudly and grabbed his chest.
It all happened so fast that the two boys holding me were stunned into releasing their grip. And Aldo was shouting over the groans and shrieks of the wounded boys, bewildered again as to what was happening. By then there had been enough noise to rouse even the most reluctant samaritans, and we heard shouts and footfalls as they hurried toward us from down the street.
The boy who had punched me took Aldo’s arm. “We have to leave,” he said. “The girl had a knife.”
“A knife?”
“Jerome and Claudio are bleeding badly and Marco looks dead.”
“That girl—it’s impossible.”
“Hurry, people are coming. I hear a constable.”
Aldo cursed me, and cursed them, and the three of them disappeared around the corner. I wiped the blood from my face and staggered over to Meta. I felt a huge bump rising on my skull. I thought I was going to pass out.
She was slumped against the wall, her lip and cheek cut, blood matting her hair, and a welt rising over her eye. I took off my jacket and draped it around her before the constable and several other men arrived. She held up the bloody knife.
“This is what Lila sent me.”
“What?”
“This was in the box you brought. Don’t you understand? It’s so I would have it now, when I was attacked.”
“How—”
“Don’t ask how. Believe me, that’s what just happened.” She wiped the blood from her lip. “You were right: they made a mistake.”
6
After we returned to Massimo’s villa, and I told him what had happened, after he tended to Meta’s wounds and Adriana took her upstairs to bed, after he had Lodovico put a compress on my head, give me a vial of herbs, and draw me a bath, Massimo stood before me wearing a black greatcoat, hat, and boots. His collar was turned up and he was pulling on a pair of leather gloves. He had listened to me earlier without saying a word, his face set in a kind of grim fury, while Adriana wept at the sight of us. He still had few words for me, but if anything, his anger had intensified. I could feel it emanating from him, as I would feel a wave of heat or cold.
“How is your head?”
“I’m all right. And Meta?”
“I gave her something to sleep. You will sleep here tonight. Do not leave the house. Lodovico’s prepared a room.”
“I wish I could have done more out there.”
“Outnumbered as you were, it was enough that you brought her back. I’ll be out for a while. Get some rest.”
Without another w
ord, he walked down the hall. I discovered that he had given me something to sleep as well, in the form of those herbs, and within a few minutes of Lodovico’s turning down my bed, I was fast asleep.
Just after dawn I came downstairs and found Massimo sitting alone in the drawing room in a red robe, sipping burdock tea, an open book in his lap. It was a bright sunny morning. Light was streaming through the windows and birds were singing in the garden.
“Tea?” he said, pouring me a cup.
He looked as calm as could be as I sat down across from him. I strained to see what he was reading.
“The girls are still asleep,” he said. He indicated my head.
“It’s better,” I said.
“Are you well enough to complete your errand of last night?”
“To get Julietta?”
“Lodovico can accompany you, if you like.”
“No, I prefer to do it myself.”
“Good.” He picked up his book again. “We’ll have breakfast when you return.”
He was reading Petrarch’s Sonnets.
7
I followed the same route Meta and I had taken the previous night. When I came to the trees beside the wall where Aldo and his gang had been hiding, I examined the ground. There were signs of a scuffle, and several patches of blood dried a darker brown than the soil. Aldo’s companions had seen Adriana before. They expected her to be in my company, and so it was her visage they projected onto Meta as we approached. If it had really been Adriana, they would have killed her. Meta had honed many arcane skills while assisting Massimo: how to leverage her weight, escape restraints, suppress fear, operate in darkness, and luckily for me, how to wield a knife.
Most of that blood belonged to the boy the others called Marco, who had indeed succumbed to his wounds and been carted off by the constables. The other five boys had escaped into the night.
I wanted to clear my head, which was still throbbing from the blow Aldo had dealt me, and I decided to take a detour on the way to Signora Gramani’s house. I walked to the Grand Canal and stopped to drink in the wind off the water. Everything felt fresher there: the light was clearer, sounds were muffled. I followed the Fondamenta de l’Ogio past the fish market, where the fishmongers were donning their aprons; and the produce stalls, where the farmers from Chioggia were arriving on barges; and the boathouses on the Calle della Pescheria, where the nocturnal fishermen were sorting their catches. All seemed orderly and pleasantly routine until I rounded the bend at the Mercato di Rialto and heard a great commotion at the foot of the Rialto Bridge. A small crowd had gathered, shouting and pointing upward. It took me a moment to focus, gazing up into the glare of the eastern sky, but when I did, I was reeling.