Dazzled, the Dog gamely thrust his sword forward, but the Harlequin parried quickly, returned the thrust and disarmed his attacker. As the sword clattered to the flags, the Harlequin cuffed the Dog unconscious with his hilt. The Clown blinked, but had no time to recover. The Harlequin propelled him into the canal with a kick to the chest.
At the same moment Lucia grabbed the Skeleton’s arm and twisted it behind his back. A second later he was in the water, too. She flinched as the Harlequin grabbed her hand.
‘This doll has a lively attitude,’ he said. The two attackers distracted him as they attempted to climb out of the canal. ‘Enough sport with rats. Best not to dally, lest they travel in packs.’
The Harlequin flung Lucia over his shoulder and despite her protests ran along the edge of the canal until he found a secluded alley not far from the revelry at the Piazza San Marco. He lowered Lucia gently to her feet and waited for thanks. Instead he received a sharp slap to the face.
‘A kiss would have been preferable,’ he said, rubbing his cheek.
Lucia bristled. ‘If I wanted your help I would have shouted for a fool.’
The Harlequin was baffled. ‘I saw a lady in distress. Your life or honour-’
‘My life and honour are my own. I need no man to protect them.’
‘So you think,’ the Harlequin said dismissively.
‘So I know.’ Lucia pulled a knife from her dress and shook it at the Harlequin. He didn’t flinch.
‘Next time I will leave you to your own devices,’ he said.
‘Good.’
As he began to walk away, Lucia asked, ‘What is an Englishman doing here, in enemy territory?’
‘You would rather I had been elsewhere,’ he said sarcastically, ‘and left you to the hands of your admirers?’
‘A question answers a question,’ she teased. ‘I fear you have something to hide.’
‘Enjoy the carnival, my lady.’
As the Harlequin made to leave, Lucia leaped forward and attempted to pluck his mask free. The Harlequin grasped it in time.
‘This is not the time for unmasking.’ He waved a cautionary finger.
A whistle like the one the Skeleton had made echoed nearby, but this one was clearly intended for the Harlequin. He gave Lucia a laddish grin. ‘Anon, fair doll.’
Then he was gone, and Lucia realised that behind her annoyance there was intrigue.
4
In the Piazza San Marco two men met on the edge of the revels away from the torchlight. One wore a hawk mask, the other a fish. They looked around uneasily until the Harlequin hurried up.
‘We thought Philip’s men had got to you,’ the Hawk said.
‘More like the king’s women,’ the Fish added irritably. ‘Did some doxy take your fancy?’
‘A spot of bother,’ the Harlequin replied. ‘Nothing to worry you, Mr Fish. Let us make haste. The king’s agents are everywhere.’
The three men made their way to the Palazzo Ducale, whose grand facade stood next to the Basilica, the sacred and the profane cheek by jowl. The Palazzo was the residence of the doge, the city’s leader, but also contained many other institutions of the Republic’s government.
‘This way,’ the Hawk whispered. ‘The door is unguarded.’
‘While you were making love, we were doing the job the queen has charged us with,’ the Fish said tartly.
The Harlequin led the way to the door. ‘Good Queen Bess has charged us with succeeding, not talking. And if there was gold for chat, Mr Fish, you would be the richest of us all.’
The Harlequin and the Fish formed a barrier while the Hawk dropped to his knees to work the lock.
‘Remember,’ the Harlequin whispered, ‘the avogaria, the law offices, are on the first floor, along with the chancellery, the censors and the Proweditori della Milizia del Mar. They will be unoccupied. The ballot chamber where the committee meets to elect the doge and the doge’s apartments are on the second floor. That is where we must go.’
‘Hurry now,’ the Fish said.
The Hawk tutted. ‘Genius cannot be rushed. What do you say, Will? An unguarded door at a grand palace? Are the Venetians or the Spaniards the true buffoons?’
‘Never underestimate the enemy, Mr Hawk. And no real names. My reputation precedes me. Spain has a bounty on my head.’
The Hawk chuckled. ‘England’s greatest spy.’
‘I fail to see how a spy can operate when everyone knows his name,’ the Fish noted.
The lock clicked, the door swung open. The Hawk held up a triumphant hand. ‘Applause, now.’
The Fish pushed past him. Will the Harlequin helped the Hawk up and they both slipped inside, pushing the door closed behind them. Across the echoing, marble-floored entrance hall they flitted like ghosts from shadow to shadow. Silently, they climbed two flights of stairs to a grand corridor along which a guard walked nonchalantly. The Fish removed his mask to reveal a shock of red hair and a freckled face. He pulled out a blowpipe and waited for the guard to near before blowing a dart into his neck.
Will and the Hawk dashed out to catch the guard before he hit the floor. ‘Well done, Francis,’ Will said, removing his mask to reveal an intelligent face topped by curly black hair.
The Hawk followed suit, wiping sweat from his brow. He was barely out of his teens with the red cheeks and heavy jaw of farming stock.
‘Keep your lock-picks to hand, Richard,’ Will hissed. He sprinted quietly along the corridor, counting off the doors. He indicated the fifth, but when Richard dropped to his knees to work the lock, the door swung open at his touch. He looked at Will in puzzlement, who considered this turn of events for a moment before motioning for them all to enter.
Will closed the door behind them. The room was still and dark apart from one shaft of light from the sole unshuttered window. It illuminated a pedestal with a glass case atop it. In it was a black wooden box.
‘There it is,’ Will said softly.
Richard was filled with awe. ‘The Box of Anubis,’ he said in hushed tones, ‘containing-’
‘A plague that can devastate an empire.’ Francis could not tear his eyes from the box. ‘Recovered from the sands of Egypt by Spanish marauders.’
‘So Dee says,’ Will noted sarcastically. ‘And Dee claims to talk with angels.’
‘It would make a fine weapon for England,’ Francis said. ‘The Spanish could not threaten us with this in our possession.’
‘And we cannot threaten the Spanish with it in theirs.’ Will tried to survey the room, but the conflict of dark and light made it impossible to discern any detail.
‘Let us take it and be off. The shadows in this place disturb me,’ Richard said. He set off for the pedestal.
‘Wait!’ Will said, reaching out to his comrade.
The quiet of the room was cut by a shrill whistling. Richard’s head toppled from his shoulders and bounced noisily across the floor. His body slumped down a moment later.
Will and Francis stared in horror before Francis whispered, ‘Witchcraft!’
‘Spanish deception. Traps.’ Sickened, Will edged along the wall to a candelabra and lit two candles with his flint. The shadows rushed away from him.
Dropping to a crouch, Will crept forward holding the candelabra above his head. When he neared Richard’s decapitated body he noticed a brief glimmer in the air. Slowly, he moved the candles back again. The glimmer reappeared.
‘Wires,’ he said, ‘strung across the room at different heights, so delicate they are almost invisible.’ Will followed the line of one wire to where it disappeared into the wall. Holding the candelabra as high as he could, he pressed the wire with one finger until it broke.