The Plague Doctor's Daughter

27. Matteo

"Well, well, well. All threads do lead to Nicco Grimani," Matteo said, looking across the shipyard's inner harbor where the sought-after vessel gently rocked.

Huddled next to him behind a stack of recently fired bricks, Giovanna merely murmured. "Um-hum."

While ill-mannered, the girl's curt reply wasn't completely unwarranted. Night had long fallen as the two had searched the massive maritime compound, finally finding the Turks' ship in one of the canopied docks across from the Porta Nuova in the northeastern corner. Contrary to Giovanna's original suggestion, it was one of the last possible places Matteo agreed to check. If only he had listened to her, they'd have made the discovery earlier, saving time and effort.

Perhaps he owed her an apology, but either way, it was too late for regrets. Thankfully, the figures of both Ottavia's foreign friend and the Doge's son were still recognizable even in the darkness as they traversed the lit deck, meaning the extended search had not been in vain.

"This dock was supposedly damaged months ago, and it had been sealed off from use until repairs could be made to the columns holding up the roof," Matteo said, choosing to ignore his companion's foul mood and instead taking stock of the building's current state.

"It appears to be in perfect condition," Giovanna whispered with slight interest.

"I concur, which can only mean that the authorities had been fooled. See that rope there?" Matteo pointed ahead, hoping she could make out the thick line with intermittent blown-glass buoys strung along it. "That had been placed across the entrance of the dock to keep ships out for fear of its collapse, but knowing it was just a ruse, Nicco and his men must now have removed it so they could do their clandestine business undisturbed."

Beside him, Giovanna fidgeted. "Have you seen enough yet? Is this sufficient evidence of Nicco Grimani's misdeeds?" she asked, unusually anxious.

Something was weighing on the girl's mind, and Matteo considered whether to ask about her father's health before remembering that she also had a jailed husband who could be causing her worry. Not particularly wanting to hear bad news about either, he instead turned back to watch as sailors moved between the building and the ship, hauling goods from the former to the latter.

"It is not enough," he finally answered. "Nicco can still easily blame the Turks and lie about his role in whatever is going on here. We need to see what is in those crates and trace them back to their origin. Perhaps that will give me enough proof to present to the Council," he said before slinking to a seated position with his back to the bricks.

Giovanna made a move to leave. "We must go then—"

"Wait," Matteo grabbed her hand and pulled her back before she could be seen. The flash of disapproval on her face made him let go just as quickly, but there was no remorse in his heart, just concern. "We are going after a very powerful man, Giovanna. And a dangerous one. I need to be sure that this is worth the risk."

She sighed, but moved closer to his side, crouching under the protection of her heavy cloak.

Doing his best to ignore the memories of their kiss that her familiar scent of sage stirred in him, Matteo continued. "Allow me to go back to what brought us to this point: what does Ottavia hope to achieve by escaping the convent?"

"She doesn't want to escape the convent as much as she wants to be rid of her scoundrel betrothed," Giovanna said, her warm breath creating wisps of white fog around her face and making her simple beauty quite ethereal. "You know as well as I that the only way to do that is to turn his supporters against him."

He nodded at her insight even as his eyes lingered on her lips. So soft . . .. "Very s— well. Let's say we do succeed in stripping Nicco of his authority and perhaps even deal him a worthy comeuppance. What then? Your friend will have few other prospects for another marriage into a family as high-ranking as that of the Grimanis."

"Ottavia cares not about being wed to a noble," Giovanna said, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

Matteo adjusted his posture, but no amount of repositioning would make sitting on the hard ground any more comfortable. "Don't tell me then that she'd rather marry a peasant," he scoffed.

"I said nothing of the sort," she said, looking up with furrowed brows.

He eyed her with curiousity as he rubbed his hands together, the leather of his gloves creating just enough friction to bring the feeling back into his cold fingers. "But you said she didn't wish to wed a nobleman and now you're claiming that she also does not want to be the wife of a commoner, so then who does Ottavia Michiel want to marry?"

"No one at all!" Giovanna exclaimed, enveloping herself deeper into her cloak.

"No one?" Matteo asked back, unable to hide a crooked smile at the thought of a patrician's only daughter—and one as alluring as the Michiel girl—willingly going unwed.

"Yes, good sir. You heard me correctly," Giovanna said with forced formality as she squared her shoulders. "Ottavia does not want to be a wife to anyone. Is that so hard to understand?"

Matteo didn't know whether to laugh or scold her for the absurdity. "Of course," he said as he blew warm air into his palms to mask his skepticism.

"I didn't see a ring on your finger or a loving spouse waiting for you at home in Palazzo Barozzi," Giovanna rebuffed, gently biting her lower lip no doubt surprised by her own veracity in using such informal accusations to make a point.

Matteo was equally taken aback, swallowing hard. "That was a choice made by fate, not me," he admitted in a hoarse whisper as he studied the scuffs on the toes of his boots.

"Oh?" Giovanna inhaled the sharp syllable more in a sign of shock at the revelation than an indication of further inquiry.

He looked up, finding courage to continue by looking directly into her large, brown eyes. "The plague took her in September," he said quietly.

Giovanna made an attempt to reach for his shoulder, but then withdrew her hand as if she thought better of it. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Matteo sighed. How could she know? No one in Venice apart from his parents did. Not even Simone was privy to the future that he almost had—one that now seemed like a distant memory.

What was supposed to have been a summer dalliance with the lovely Francesca Scaligeri of Verona had turned into a rushed engagement. The church could only overlook a premature birth if it still fell within a reasonable time after the ceremony so there was no chance for debate or extensive planning. Yet even those few extra days before they could be joined together in front of God had proven too long. The bride's insistence on a new dress in which to become Donna Barozzi ultimately took her life. Looking for blame was meaningless. It was during the early, chaotic days of the plague and not even the daughter of a chief magistrate could escape its grips. The tailor who passed on the deadly disease was just the conduit by which Matteo was robbed of his wife and unborn child.

"Will it suffice to say that Dilara has promised to safely ferry Ottavia away?" Giovanna's question brought Matteo back to the present. "All we need to do is bring her out of the nunnery and the rest will be taken care of."

He solemnly nodded, excising the ghosts from his mind in exchange for the specters of corruption and duplicity haunting his current reality. "Yes. That will do." Pushing himself up from the damp ground, he added, "Come. We have wasted enough time here. Let's see what is going on those ships."