That sounded very weak to me, evidence of how desperate he was.
"You really believe that Jacopo will go home and report to the murderer-whether knowingly or unwittingly-that Zorzi Michiel was with Violetta Vitale on the night Gentile was murdered? And that the murderer will dare act on that information?"
Nostradamus sighed. "There is an alternative. Jacopo deceives himself too, remember. He lives in a fantasy world of his own making. I hope that he will now see how dangerous his own position has become and go to the chiefs to confess. Pity him. He was reared in a palace, even if he did have to eat in the kitchen. If his father had lived he would probably have been provided with an apprenticeship, but apparently nobody else cared. Then, suddenly, he is offered more money than he has ever seen in his life just to dress up like the rich playboy noble he has always dreamt of being and haunt brothels. Do you wonder he succumbed? Or that he shuts his mind to what is happening as he tracks down the victims? Poor devil!"
Put that way, yes. If the Maestro had correctly analyzed Jacopo's role in these crimes, then he was going to be yet another victim of whoever had murdered Gentile Michiel.
"It must be time for dinner," he said. "Afterward you will write out our interview with him in fair and prepare a report for the chiefs of the Ten. I dare not withhold that diary from them any longer."
My master had his priorities, but I had mine. I gobbled my dinner and made all speed for Violetta. The fastest route was by way of the roof, of course, but if the security at Number 96 was as tight as it should be, I might have to spend more time explaining myself than I would save. I ran downstairs instead.
I found Antonio outside the door of Violetta's suite, supervising a carpenter who was installing three massive bolts. She was on the inside, supervising both men. She was also clad in a loose house gown, being long overdue for her day's helping of sleep.
She flashed me a smile. "I've decided to stop you sneaking in on me at ungodly hours in the morning."
I blew her a kiss and went around the corner to the kitchen door. My key worked, but the door would not open. Then I heard bolts being drawn; I was admitted. We completed the kiss in proper form, ignoring Milana's smiles in the background.
"This is madness!" I said when we paused for breath. "If you must be bait, at least come and stay with us next door, where you will be safe. We have an excellent guest bedroom."
She touched the tip of her tongue to the end of my nose. "Oh, and wouldn't you like that!" She was dark-eyed Helen, ready to tease me to distraction.
"Wouldn't you?"
"For a day or so, I suppose. Not enough variety for longer."
"Vixen!" I kissed her again.
She broke free. "I am safer here, my darling, because I have more protectors. Antonio has brought in extra guards-all good men he knows and trusts. We'll have guards on duty by night and day. Now we have bolts on both doors, as you can see, and it would take a cannon to break through these doors. I even canceled all my engagements for the next three evenings!"
I sighed and nodded; tried to kiss her again and was balked when she laid fingers on my lips.
"But," she added coquettishly, "I will be lonely all by myself. I could use an extra bodyguard."
"I know a good man!"
She smiled at me under her lashes. "So do I. Don't forget to bring your longsword, soldier."
I took all afternoon to transcribe the Maestro's interview with Jacopo, because I was on tenterhooks and my mind kept wandering. I wondered how similar my report might be to the one our champion liar would deliver when he returned to the Palazzo Michiel. Would the killer, whichever of them it was, swallow the bait, or recognize the trap the Maestro had set? Had word already gone out to the hired assassin that another deadly task awaited him?
It was only when winter dusk was falling that I reached the end and passed the final sheet across the desk to the Maestro, who had been ostensibly reading Paracelsus's Archidoxa all afternoon, but had done much more frowning and beard tugging than page turning. He had followed my progress, page by page without comment. Now he scanned the ending and nodded.
"Not bad," he conceded effusively. "It will suffice."
Praise indeed! I had expected a dozen corrections at least.
"Now my report to the Council of Ten," he said. "File copy first."
He dictated a brief account of Violetta's plea that he track down her friend's killer, his discovery that there were other victims, and his efforts to prevent more killings. The name "Honeycat" had directed him to the Palazzo Michiel, and from there had come the enclosed book, believed to have been sent to him by donna Alina Orio… and so on. After this, not even an abbess rampant would keep the Ten away from Sister Lucretzia.
"Read it back," he said. Then, "It will do. Make a fine copy of both."
He was rarely so uncritical and I began to suspect that the Council of Ten was never going to see my handiwork. Nevertheless, I did as I was told. Then I wrapped up the damning book, my report, and the accompanying letter. I sealed the package with wax.
"I'd better go," I said.
"Later," he added, glancing at the windows. "After we have eaten."
"The Ten will be meeting by then." The three chiefs of the Ten, who set its agenda, are appointed for a month at a time and must not leave the palace during their term, but the entire council meets in the evenings, although not every day. After it adjourns, the three state inquisitors retire to their own chamber to conduct their own sinister business.
The Maestro dismissed my objection with a shrug. "There is still time. I have been considering my latest foreseeing, the one about hazarding in far lands and death being near at hand. You did not spurn help at your feet… You have seen no more of the mysterious cat?"
"No, master." I sat down, but I know him too well. I could tell that he was procrastinating, hoping against hope that his trap would be sprung before he was forced to turn over that damning evidence to the Council of Ten. Once that happened, a blanket of secrecy would fall over the case and we might never learn what happened.
"Are we overlooking anything in our respective predictions?" he mused.
That was a command for me to start interpreting. The implication that I was his equal as a seer was mere flattery.
"Your first quatrain predicted the fourth murder very well. The second… The first two lines-hazarding in far lands and death near at hand-suggest that Zorzi has returned to Venice or plans to. Not spurning help at your feet suggests my phantasmal cat. Explain Salvation from on high to me, master."
He pulled a face. "I can't. The other three lines work out, so keep it in mind. And your two tarot readings. Revisit those for me."
"The reading for Violetta has turned out quite well," I said with touching modesty. "I mean the queen of coins facing the problem of Death reversed could hardly be plainer. You just reversed the knight of cups by sending Jacopo home to bait your trap, which will turn out to be the solution if it works." Or sheer disaster if it didn't, but I might as well claim credit for giving him the idea.
"And the Popess reversed?"
"Violetta would say that it meant the abbess of Santa Giustina who refused to admit her."
I thought that even Nostradamus would have trouble interpreting that as a significant prophecy, but he managed it. "The warning may have restrained her from revealing too much. If the abbess had guessed that she was a prostitute, she would have reported her to the censors. And Fortitude as the helper? Your Violetta is a brave woman to participate in our little stratagem."