Heart of Glass

39





News of Allegreza’s death leaks out by breakfast the following day. Emilia and Lysander are long gone, and Father is out of sorts. Cold silence fills the air between us as we eat soft-boiled eggs and warm bread. A manservant comes in and whispers something in Father’s ear. He grunts and scrapes back his chair.

“Halim has docked in the harbor,” he announces, wiping his hands on a linen napkin. “The impudence of that man!” He throws the napkin on the floor and the servant has to bend to retrieve it, but Father is already striding around the room in agitation. He throws me an angry look, as though this is all my fault, forgetting that, not long ago, he was all too happy to throw his own daughter at the prince. “Your beloved fiancé has saved his own skin and served up Venice to the Turks.” He turns and gazes out of the window, his hands behind his back.

“Is there no other way of appeasing Halim?” I ask.

Father scoffs. “Appeasement? No, my girl. Roberto may not care about Venice, but others do. We have Massimo and we have Vincenzo. We’ll bury that Turkish upstart beneath the waves!” He grinds one fist into the other.

“Yes, but how many innocents will pay for victory with their lives?”

“Pah!” He waves a hand as if the matter is of little consequence. “You know, a resounding victory will make Vincenzo even more of a catch for a bride.”

I wipe the corners of my mouth and stand up. “I’d rather die than marry that man,” I say.

Father’s smile fades. “Do you think I took you out of that convent to live as a spinster?”

“Of course not, but I could find a husband who isn’t Vincenzo. He’s older than you are.”

“You’ve not done such a fine job husband-hunting, though, have you?”

I don’t deign to respond to this remark. I make my exit.

A boat is soon taking me to the harbor, the gondolier’s oar carving a path through the water. As we move across the lagoon, I see that the canals are busier than usual. Families are loading their possessions and heading towards the harbor too. Like my brother and his wife, people are vacating the city. I can only guess that they want to avoid the troubles that lie ahead.

Our boat passes the shuttered palace. At least with Allegreza’s death, the Doge and his wife can hide their humiliations under a cowl in grief. The sun is out, and I carry a small parasol. I loosen the ribbon on my bodice. My upper chest and shoulders are bare, and I am wearing a saffron silk gown, hair snaking down my left shoulder in a bouncing curl that has been brushed and wound around warm irons until it sits just so. If I’m going to persuade Halim to call off a war, I have to look my best.

“Who are you trying to impress?” Faustina had asked when she’d poked her head into my room earlier.

I waved her away. “No one.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Then ‘No One’—whoever he is—will be grateful for all your efforts, I’m sure.”

I raised the brush in my hand, and the threat was enough to send her ducking from the door, chortling.

Now I see that Halim’s ship is a galley with rows of oars spearing its sides, withdrawn and lifted from the water. Red triangular flags decorated with gold brocade flutter from the mast poles. The stern of the ship is covered in a striped awning with three brass lamps sitting above it. At the prow is a figurehead carved in the shape of an eagle.

As I approach, men on the ship share startled glances, and one breaks off from tying a rope and runs down the plank. He throws a volley of words at me that I don’t understand, pointing back to the city. The message is clear: You’re not welcome here.

I stand my ground, and smile as seductively as I can. “I’d like to see Halim.”

The man folds his arms, and calls up the plank behind him. Another barks an answer, and disappears out of sight.

As I wait on the harborside, more deckhands come to the rails to watch, fixing me with their greedy eyes. From behind them emerges Faruk. He looks down his nose at me.

“You shouldn’t have come!” he shouts down. “Let men deal with men’s business.”

He’s like a guard dog, jealously keeping watch over his master. But like all dogs, he can surely be tamed.

“I only ask for a few minutes of your master’s time.”

“Time is running out for Venice,” says Faruk.

The men on deck suddenly scatter back to their work as Halim reaches Faruk’s side. His head is covered by a sparkling white turban and he wears loose-fitting trousers, a red tunic with gold buttons and, over that, a black waistcoat. He looks immaculate—ready to entertain guests rather than go to battle. But then I spot the sword that hangs from a leather belt by his hip. The hilt is shaped in the form of an eagle’s head, just like the figurehead.

“I was just telling this young lady to go home,” sneers Faruk.

Halim ignores him and stares at me. I hold his powerful gaze.

“Please,” he says, “come aboard.”

Faruk grunts and disappears from sight. I lift my skirts and begin walking up the gangplank. Halim reaches out a hand to me and I accept it.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Come to my pavilion,” says Halim, “if your reputation can stand it.”

I force a laugh. “My reputation isn’t much, these days.” My father would never forgive me if he knew what I was about to do. “People can think what they like,” I say, “I came here to talk.”

Halim leads me onto the ship. I’ve never seen anything like this before. We move down the narrow galley, past clusters of men, making our way back towards the stern. Halim leads me under the awning of his pavilion, where embroidered cushions are arranged along wooden benches.

“Would you like some refreshment?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

As I sit, Halim moves to a low table, on which there is a brass jug and crystal glasses. He pours me a goblet of wine. “You are brave coming here,” he says. “But I fear your visit will be a waste.”

I take the glass and sip. The wine is nothing like our own. It’s sweeter, with a background of light spice. I notice he doesn’t partake.

“You aren’t having any?”

“My religion forbids me,” he says. “But, please, my beliefs should not ruin your enjoyment.”

But I haven’t come here to enjoy Halim’s hospitality. We sit in silence for a minute or two, interrupted only by the occasional bellowed cry from belowdecks and the creaking and clanking of the rigging. Now that I’m here, I wonder what I can possibly say. How can one girl succeed where the Grand Council have failed?

“Venice grieves for two of her children,” I say at last. “Just as you grieve for your sister.”

He stiffens. “Venice is a city,” he says. “My heart is a human one.”

“Nicolo has a family. Allegreza had one too.”

Halim sighs, sinking back against the cushions. “You think I want war?” he says.

“The power to prevent it is in your hands,” I reply.

“And if I do as you ask? If I turn my fleet around and sail away, will my sister’s ghost find her rest?”

Pain is etched across Halim’s face, and I feel the urge to place my arm around his shoulders. But words will have to suffice. “Your sister would not want more bloodshed.”

His head snaps up, and his eyes flare with sudden anger. “What do you know of her wishes?” he demands.

As soon as he’s said it, the fury passes from his face. “I apologize,” he says. “I am not myself at the moment. For the first time in my life …” He looks at me almost tenderly. “I’m confused, Laura.”

The pavilion suddenly seems small.

“Your argument is with Roberto,” I say. “Not with Venice. And he has disappeared.”

“He was allowed to escape,” Halim retorts. “Who bears responsibility? Whoever it is must pay.”

“Then ask the Doge for some financial reparation.”

“I have no need of money.” For a moment, silence settles between us. Then he says, “He was to be your husband. How does that make you feel?”

I gaze into the dark liquid, then into his eyes. “I’m disappointed,” I say. “Angry too.”

He suddenly buries his face in his hands, and utters a groan of despair. Is he weeping? I put down my wine and move closer.

He draws his hands away, but I see his eyes are dry. “Sometimes my anger overwhelms me,” he says. “My sister was the dearest person in the world to me. Without her, my days are darkness. Do you understand?”

I think of my own sister. Poor, beautiful Beatrice, so full of life’s joys. “I understand.” I place a hand over his. He looks down at it, then lifts my fingertips to press his lips against them. I should pull my hand away, but I don’t. Halim notices this, and before I know it, he’s turned my hand over to plant another kiss on the inside of my wrist. I have to bite my lip to contain the moan that threatens to escape me. I shouldn’t let …

“I love you, Laura,” he says.

My blood feels hot in my veins. I wasn’t expecting this.

“How can you—”

“Come away with me,” he says. “You are better than these people. I can make you happy. You’ll have more riches than this city can ever give you. You won’t have to worry ever again, and these silly politics will seem like a bad dream.”

His lips move towards mine.

“This is my home, Halim.”

His face clouds, and he moves away. “You have to understand, Laura. I will be victorious here. Soon, Venice will not be a good place to live. With me, you’ll be queen of an empire.”

The intensity of his gaze makes every part of my skin tingle at once. The conviction of his words almost sways me. He might well be right. Even if the combined might of Vincenzo’s fleet and the Venetian ships manages to hold firm, what will I have here? My brother has fled back to Bologna. Roberto—he could be dead or alive for all I know. My father is trying to marry me to a monster, and Allegreza, the woman I held in the highest regard, is dead.

“If …” I am not sure I can get the words out.

“Go on,” Halim urges.

“I will consider it, but you must not attack the city.”

I know from the flash in his eyes that this bald offer is not what he wants to hear. Halim reaches under his tunic and pulls out a pendant that hangs on a golden chain around his neck. He holds it out in the flat of his palm. “She is the reason I cannot do as you ask.” He takes the chain from around his neck and hands the pendant to me. It is heavy and warm from where it’s been pressed against his skin. There’s a hinged lock on it, and I press the crescent of my fingernail into a groove. The lock clicks, and the panels of the locket spring open. Inside is a miniature painting in oils. It’s of a woman.

“Her death must be avenged. What sort of brother would I be if I walked away now?”

As I peer closer, the warmth from the locket seems to drain away. The warmth of the pavilion too, as if a cold winter breeze has slipped in.

I try to make sense of what I see. For the portrait is not of the woman I saw lying on Roberto’s floor in a pool of blood. It is of the girl who fled the convent. The one whose knees buckled when I mentioned Halim.

Almost instantly, I understand that I cannot allow him to see my shock. I need time to order my thoughts. His sister is alive, somewhere in Venice. But, but … My brain feels as though it’s going to explode. Halim gazed on the dead woman in her coffin. He must have known it was not his sister.

I look up at him, carefully composing a sympathetic smile. Am I seeing things, or does his face carry the tiniest shadow of suspicion?

“She was very beautiful,” I tell him. She still is, I think. “I can see why you fight for her honor.”

If he knows the victim wasn’t his sister, why is he pretending? Unless …

“I would lay down my life for yours too,” he says.

Hastily, I get to my feet, feeling a little unsteady. Halim leaps up to help me. Whatever intimacy I felt is gone, but I must keep up a pretense. I take his hand and press my lips against them. A chaste kiss.

“Will you think about what I said?” he asks as I give him his pendant back.

“I will, of course.”

He strokes a hand down my face. “I’ll come for you once all this is over. I hope you understand, Laura. I have to do what I came here to do.”

“I understand,” I say. “I understand everything.”