The Plague Doctor's Daughter

37. Nicco

His head throbbed and the room spun as Nicco waited in the antechamber—a space much like any other in the palace with its gilt frescoed ceiling and dark paneled walls—to gain audience with the Council of Ten. At least he hoped it was the door of the Ten's chambers that would eventually open. He'd received only a short, but direct order early this morning to assemble here, the Doge's guard ultimately finding him in the tavern he'd been patronizing since the previous morning.

He cradled his face in his hands and massaged his temples, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep. In spite of his lingering drunkenness—or perhaps because of it—the situation didn't make sense. The fire at the Arsenale warehouse that cost the bulk of his recent profits and led him to drown his misery in pitcher after pitcher of Tuscan wine could in no way be publicly linked to him. His other business dealings were just as discreet. So what reason did the Great Council's judicial arm have for calling him here now?

Sitting in a pew along the back wall of the sala della bussola, the doge's son briefly considered how he'd react if it were the second door that would instead beckon his entry. Even the fire roaring in the hearth on his right couldn't warm him enough to get the chill out of his mood as he imagined stepping in front of the three Chief Magistrates presiding in that other room.

The work of the Inquisition Court was so secretive, they even had a special revolving door installed in the corner to shield those waiting from catching an unauthorized glimpse of what went on inside. And those on trial there—usually for treason or espionage—had good reason to fear, for most often than not, they'd end up being escorted directly across the raised walkway connecting the palace and the New Prison on the other side of the canal. It was through that bridge's barred windows that prisoners could take one, last look at Venice before getting locked in their cells for days, weeks, or perhaps even months.

Lost in thought, Nicco jumped when the door to the council chamber opened with a bang and a guard stepped out.

"Signore," said the armored man with a respectful nod, planting his ceremonial pike and stepping aside to let Nicco enter.

The room was cold and unusually empty. To the left and at the center of a raised platform, his father sat on the Ducal throne with his dogs at his feet. A young nobleman stood in front of him, while a girl of equal age, but of more modest dress stood by the wall. As Nicco crossed the room to face his father, he noticed that they were both disheveled, as if recently in a tussle. The young man also held his left arm against his chest, perhaps in pain.

"Who's this?" he asked after a quick bow to his father. While the Doge occasionally held private meetings in this chamber, the presence of a complete stranger—much less two in such a state—was unexpected, if not disconcerting.

The young man squared his shoulders before also bowing in greeting. "I am Matteo Barozzi, Don Niccolo," he said.

"Procurator Barozzi had requested this audience with his son who has brought information that I am assured will be of interest to both of us," the Doge said, breaking his own silence to add slightly more context to the situation.

Somewhat intrigued, but not yet enough to truly care, Nicco sighed. "I doubt there is anything that happens in Venice you would know that I don't, but go ahead. Let's hear it," he said, ignoring the slight nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach from last night's wine .

"Well, do you know who burned down the barracks you used for smuggling two nights ago? Because I do," Matteo said without breaking eye contact, his steely blue gaze as determined as his tone.

The boy's disrespect—in both manner and word—was infuriating. "How dare you insinuate—"

"That was your warehouse?" The Doge didn't let Nicco fully manifest his anger, instead diverting the focus on to a part of the revelation that his son would have rather left unexamined. "I heard there was extensive damage, even the loss of life."