Heart of Glass

14





I stand outside the dining room, framed by the doorway. A cloud of warm air, heaving with the scent of wine, billows towards me. Things have evidently moved on in my absence. The men no longer politely take a couch each; now they encourage girls to sit beside them or they talk in groups, laughing raucously. I wonder how the Doge and his Council can have such scant regard for their daughters—they must truly want to impress their guests. But then, I suppose this is all part of the game of diplomacy. Cheeks are flushed red and eyes are alight with pleasure. One of the men standing near me has dark circles of sweat beneath the arms of his toga. It’s Massimo, Admiral of the Fleet. Over the course of his lifetime he has risen through the ranks.

I step into the room, still smiling. I can’t stop thinking of Roberto. I pass from group to group as fingers pick at the still-warm biscuits I carry. I hide a smile when one of the Venetian delegation rolls his eyes in disgust; the Turkish man he’s talking to ignores the fork with its crystal handle, instead reaching for the platters of cold meats and eating with his right hand. This is all a long way from the usual delicate courtesies of a Venetian meal.

“Is that quite necessary?” the Florentine mutters quietly—but not quietly enough.

Prince Halim moves across the room and takes his own slice of cured ham. I watch, mesmerized, as he rolls the meat neatly between two fingers and presses it against a slice of fig. He offers the delicacy to me but I shake my head, so he shrugs and eats it himself. His eyes stay fixed upon the Florentine’s face.

“Who needs knives and forks!” Nicolo says. The Doge’s second son has always had an easy charm, and his arrival punctures the tension. He reaches for a piece of fried squid dripping with basil dressing. With a flourish, he drops it into his mouth. The room rings with relieved laughter, and the man from Florence, who looked appalled a moment ago, smiles awkwardly.

Prince Halim turns to gaze at the Doge, who is still sitting on his own couch. “Where is your other son? Roberto, isn’t it?”

The laughter dries up. Halim looks around the room, from one face to another. Nicolo is staring hard at the floor.

“Have I said something wrong?” Halim asks quietly.

The Doge gets to his feet. “You must excuse me,” he says. His politician’s smile has faltered and, for just a moment, we see the man as he truly is—old and ill. He walks from the room, leaning heavily on a servant’s arm, refusing to look into anyone’s face. As he passes me I swear I see his lip tremble.

The doors creak shut behind his back, and noise instantly returns—sounds rolling around the room like ocean water against rock. The wine flows once more, and the guests reach for the platters of delicacies. To a newcomer, it might seem that everything is normal. But as I go about my duties with the other girls, I’m surrounded by whispers of my beloved’s name. They are all talking about the rumors that fill Venice—that Roberto is a murderer. He’s not here to defend himself, and I cannot be seen to react. If I scramble to protect his reputation, I know what these people will think: she protests too much.

“Can I tempt you with something?” I mutter, lowering my platter to a man sitting on a long couch. When our eyes meet, I see it is Massimo. He smiles, taking a pastry from me and popping it in his mouth. He chews with his lips open and swallows noisily. I start to move to another part of the room, when his hand darts out and gently restrains me.

I look into his face, surprised. “Yes?”

“I have an invitation for you,” he says, wiping his hands on a napkin.

I feel my brow crease in a frown. “I don’t understand.…”

He waves a hand in the air to silence me and gets to his feet. He walks to a corner of the room and I understand that I’m expected to follow. Putting my platter down, I go to join him.

“Well?” I ask as he turns to face me.

“Prince Halim has asked to be chaperoned around the city. He requested you especially.” On the last word he raises his eyebrows.

I feel blood rush to my cheeks. “I’m not sure that my father would—”

“Your father and I have already cleared it with the Doge and guards will be on hand to protect you at all times. You see? There really is no reason in the world to say no. You’ll meet him at the harbor tomorrow morning?”

I find myself nodding my acquiescence. “But …”

“Good. That’s settled, then.” Massimo walks away from me and is soon laughing with a group of men. My father knew of this? Why in God’s name would he say yes? There must be hundreds of people better suited to act as tour guide. Even now, after months out of the convent, I feel I barely know this city.

Once again, I feel the cogs turning, and I am powerless to stop them. I could refuse, I suppose, but sometimes it’s easier to swim with the current than fight against it. Roberto is released tomorrow, and I shall see him soon after. Nothing can ruin that.

And besides, one question burns in my head as Halim flicks a glance towards me, raising his glass.

Why has he chosen me?