Heart of Glass

21





We leave Bella Donna and go to meet the rest of the Segreta, following the best route to avoid the city’s night watchmen. The appointed place is a grain store in a secluded part of Venice, near the northern shore. Four stories high with a peaked roof, it sits beside a canal where supplies can be shipped by boat. I follow the others inside, and my nose picks up the comforting scent of wheat. Burlap sacks, each printed with the supplier’s mark, sit in neat rows along wooden shelves. We pass them and climb the stairs until we arrive at a wooden platform beneath the eaves of the building. Would the merchants of Venice ever guess what secrets their storehouses hide?

The other women are waiting, lit only by the moonlight streaming in from a window in the roof. One person is missing—Paulina. It’s hardly a surprise. I sent a note of condolence to her home, but words are never enough. I wish I could see her and try to offer some true comfort.

Allegreza steps into the center of the circle and turns on her heel, gazing into each of our faces. The success with Silvio fades from my mind, and I remember why we are gathered here—because our city, and my love, is in crisis.

“These are testing times,” Allegreza begins. The other women murmur in agreement. “But the Segreta have been tested before. Aysim put her trust in us, and we have failed her. There is no avoiding that fact.” She pauses, and I can feel the attention of the women linger on me, even if their eyes do not. “Moreover,” continues Allegreza, “her secrets have gone to the grave with her. What worries me more is this: Why did she die when she did? Who else knew that she would be coming?”

I remember Allegreza’s words to me when I visited her at her house. “A traitor in the Segreta.” The others pick up on her meaning too. We each keep our gaze firmly fixed on our leader, not daring to look at each other in case our glances are misconstrued as accusation—or guilt. My cheeks burn nonetheless. Does anyone here believe that I’m the person giving away our secrets?

“I tell you now,” Allegreza continues. “Stay alert at all times. If you see or hear anything—anything!—that is suspicious, it is your duty to report it to me. Do you understand?”

There are murmurs of assent. Allegreza’s glance lands on me, and I nod quickly.

“Excellent. Now, go back to your homes. Remember all that I have told you.”

The other women begin to move away, but I’m frozen. Surely our meeting can’t be over already? Nothing has been said of my fiancé’s plight or his brother’s death. Not a word has been shared in sympathy and understanding for Paulina. But it’s my loved one’s dilemma that troubles me most.

“Will you help Roberto?” The words spill from me before I can stop them.

The other women pause and share confused glances. Allegreza’s face hardens.

“What do you think we can do, Laura?” she asks.

“Either get him out of Venice or work the Segreta’s influence on the trial. He’s an innocent man—he does not deserve what is happening to him.”

Allegreza walks around the room, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Her shadow moves with her, stark black against the milky light of the moon.

“We must use our power carefully,” she says. “A knife overused quickly becomes blunt.”

This is too much for me to bear. Allegreza told me—promised me!—that in time the Segreta would turn to Roberto’s plight. Now she talks of caution! I can’t stop myself; I step towards her, my voice loud in the silence of the room. “You had that monster Vincenzo exiled, so why can’t you help Roberto?”

Allegreza pats the air as if to calm me. “Vincenzo was guilty of spying, an agent for the Duke of Milan. We had good reason to banish him.”

“And Roberto is innocent! Isn’t that a good enough reason to help?”

I wait for the murmurs of agreement, but silence stretches between Allegreza and myself. I look around me at the other women and see none of them moving to speak. When I try to make eye contact with young Sophia, my accomplice such a short while ago, she looks away.

Understanding dawns. “You don’t believe in his innocence, do you?” I begin to stalk from woman to woman, staring brazenly into their faces. “Do you?” I pause before Allegreza, my breathing labored.

She shakes her head. “Calm yourself, Laura. A woman has been wronged. We must remember that above all.”

“But not by my fiancé!”

Grazia moves to Allegreza’s side. “You are behaving inappropriately, Laura,” she says.

I step back, trying to calm my thumping heart.

Allegreza sighs. “We understand your pain, Laura,” she says. “Why don’t we put it to an anonymous vote? To help Roberto or to stay out of the case? We will help only with majority assent.”

I feel a flutter of hope. One of the women tears slips of paper from an old, dusty ledger, and we each cast our votes. People can vote yes or no to help Roberto in his plight. We deposit our pieces of paper facedown on the floor in front of us and one of the Segreta collects each of our slips. She goes to a corner of the room and begins counting them out into piles.

Suddenly, there is a clatter of footsteps on the wooden stairs. The Segreta scatter, slinking into the shadows or crouching behind sacks. I press myself into one of the dark corners.

A black-clad figure enters. “Paulina!” cries one of the women, rising to her feet and rushing out to meet her. But Paulina pushes past, glancing around the room. One by one, we step out of our hiding places. Paulina’s eyes come to rest on my face.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell my friend, holding out my arms to her.

“You!” Paulina lunges at me, her nails raking the air. She grabs my hand and drags me towards her. “Nicolo is dead. All because of you!”

Her face is close to mine, and I can feel the spittle on my cheeks. Her hand grips my hair.

“Stop!” I say. “Please!”

“It’s your fault! It should be Roberto’s blood staining the palace floor. Instead, instead …” A sob escapes her. “My love is dead! And with him, my future!”

With a sudden groan of defeat, she falls away from me.

“Roberto is innocent,” I say quietly.

She scoffs. “You simply have no idea, do you? What do you think he was doing when you were in the convent? Saying his own prayers? Don’t make me laugh! He knew his way around every whorehouse in Venice.”

“Hush now,” someone protests. But not because the words offend her—I can sense that she’s trying to protect me.

“What are you talking about?” I say.

“Your one true love!” says Paulina. “A man of spotless character. Oh, please! I’m only saying what we all know.”

Paulina’s face is red with fury, but even as her final words melt away, I can see the guilt there too. She knows she’s gone too far. All of the women’s eyes are on me, and I want nothing more than to disappear.

“I see,” I say stiffly. “Thank you for educating me.”

Grazia reaches out for Paulina, but she turns away, defeated and sobbing. “Leave me be!” She runs from the room.

“Shall I go after her?” asks Sophia.

Grazia shakes her head. “There’s nothing we can do for Paulina at the moment.”

Why did my friend say such horrible things? I suddenly feel very young again. Naive and innocent as the day I left the convent. Was she speaking merely out of anger and grief, or was she venting secrets that have been kept from me? I swallow back a rising panic. Roberto is no whoremonger. He isn’t capable of anything like that.

Allegreza watches from across the room. In her hands, she holds the scraps of paper from the vote.

“A decision has been made,” she announces. “The Segreta have spoken.”

“And?” I say.

Allegreza looks at me, but I cannot read her expression. Compassion, maybe, or pity. “I think it best for you not to know the result of the vote,” she says.

I’m flabbergasted. Not tell me? “But why?”

Allegreza nods. “You are too close to this, Laura. Too emotionally involved.”

“But I have to know,” I say. “Will you help him?”

Allegreza shakes her head. “The meeting is over.”