The Plague Doctor's Daughter

38. Nicco

"How dare you!" the Doge exclaimed, slamming his hands on the armrest of his throne.

Matteo spun around. "I dare because of what this man has told me, connecting your son to his nephew."

"What does Niccolo have to do with a foreign brat?" asked the Doge as he looked between his son and his accuser.

Al Ameda stepped forward. "My nephew, Your Grace, is a doorman for one of the most noble families in Venice. He is honorable, but quite young, making him also susceptible to influence."

"Get on with it," growled the Doge.

"Giacomo—that is my nephew's name—he often heard the wearer of that pendant preaching his strange sermons in front of the basilica. In the past week, he followed an open invitation for the faithful to attend a more private service. In his quest to find answers to questions even he didn't know he had, he found himself in a warehouse in the Arsenale where he witnessed something that both spooked and intrigued him. He told me the wearer of that pendant spoke of immortality and made promises of heaven on earth. After that, he began to act oddly, as though the experienced changed his whole being. I haven't seen the boy now for a day and a half."

"How is that my problem?" Nicco asked, already turning on his heel to go. "Forgive me, Your Serenity, but if that is all then—"

"You wrote this note," Matteo cut him off, and Nicco stopped in his tracks. When he looked back, the boy was waving a crumpled, dirty paper in the air. "We've already established the validity of your handwriting through the evidence brought by Signore Al Amada, and I'm sure anyone with two eyes can plainly ascertain that the script in what I hold in my hand will match."

Nicco gasped. Everything was now falling into place: the Moor's nephew wasn't a servant in just any household, but rather at the Barozzi's. This placed him at the door yesterday morning when—

"Give that to me," demanded the Doge before taking the slip from Matteo. After examining it front and back, he returned it once again. "Even if my son were to have sent that message to either Don Matteo or Don Lorenzo, I see no reason for it to matter now."

Matteo's father stepped forward. "Your Grace, with all due respect, you see nothing implicit wrong with such a threat? If I recall correctly, the note says: cease your meddling or you shall pay."

The Doge laughed. "We're all grown men, here. When business is done with sharp words instead of a sharp blade, we're all better off."

"Oh, but I do believe it was done with a blade," Matteo said, pointing out the rip in the paper's center, from which a dark stain emanated. "Whether it was delivered by Don Niccolo's hand or someone else's is irrelevant, but the bloody scene that I found at my front doorstep yesterday proved that Giacomo's disappearance was somehow connected."

"Are you now accusing my son of attempted murder?" asked the Doge with a mix of incredulity and anger. "Because for that, you'd need a witness or a victim, and I see none presented here today."

Matteo nodded. "You are quite correct, Your Grace. I have no other evidence tying your son to Giacomo; however . . ." He trailed off, motioning once again to the girl at the door, who in turn let another visitor inside.

In fact, it was not one newcomer, but three who entered. Before the girl closed the door behind them, she peeked out. Looking back, she shook her head solemnly at the Barozzi boy.

"Signore Delfini!" exclaimed the Doge as the Councillor limped in, supported on one side by his daughter Clara and on the other by her former intended, Simone Falier. "News of your ill health appear to have been greatly exaggerated for I had already said a prayer to the Lord to peacefully deliver you to St. Peter's gates."