Q - Luther Blissett (interesting novels to read TXT) 📗

Venice, 11th November 1548

It isn’t easy to explain to them that I’ve got to go. It isn’t easy to tell them about an old enemy. Qo�let, the constant ally, the traitor, the infiltrator.

It won’t be easy, but it has to be done. Explaining the journeys of the past few months, this beard: Titian, the apostle with The Benefit of Christ in one hand and the water of Jordan in the other. Settling a score that was begun twenty years ago. Trying to set Carafa’s cop — his best, his most cunning cop - on the trail of an Anabaptist heresiarch made to measure specially for him. There isn’t much time left. The noose has begun to tighten earlier than expected, but I knew that would happen. I’m playing with fire, and I can’t put their lives in jeopardy. The same unforgivable mistake I’ve been making all my life: my past erupting into the present and turning into a massacre, ripping apart the flesh of friends, partners, lovers. Demetra, Beatrice, Jo�o, Pietro. The names of the imminent dead. Leave before it happens. Drag the Exterminating Angel and the eternal policeman along behind me, far from the loved ones of my final days. To the remotest corners, the very arsehole of Europe, this continent that I’ve travelled from coast to coast. Get him to follow me there and, in that foul-smelling sewer, wait and settle the scores for countless lives. Alone.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Eloi can have his name back, I’ll just be Titian the mad Baptist.

Jo�o will take care of the brothel and Demetra in my place. I’ll move about, I’ll leave clues, I’ll keep going until I’ve dragged Qo�let into the light.

Perna, you said it: you’ve got to see how things will end, you’ve got to put your life and your luck on the line if they’re to mean anything at all. You have to supply a reason for each and every defeat, and for everything that’s been spared. They’re not going to give up the game, and I want to bring it to its conclusion. Somehow.

*

Looks of astonishment, jaws set. The only sound that emerges is Beatrice’s clear voice: ‘Just because life has forced my family to dissemble, it has never stopped me from appreciating sincerity, Ludovico.’

She smiles. My words have done nothing to dim the light in her dark eyes. ‘So allow me to reciprocate your candour. You aren’t the cause of the danger that threatens us: we all knew from the start what risks we would face when we set out to distribute The Benefit of Christ Crucified. We’ve challenged the excommunication of the Council, the Inquisition, the shady strategies of the powerful men of Venice. To what end? The spiritual war being waged by the black dogs of the Holy Office is a threat to all of us. Pretending not to know that won’t save us. Look who we’ve got here: an underground bookseller, the manager of a brothel and a wealthy Jewish family that’s been on the run for half a century. Then there’s you: a heretic, a reject, a thief and a pander. All of us the kind of people they want to sweep away. If they win they’ll take everything, they’ll fill every available space. We’ll be locked up, the lucky ones will die.’

Beatrice walks over to the window, with its view of the Giudecca canal against the background of St Mark’s. It remains a dark outline.

She goes on: ‘You’ve spoken of personal fate, you’ve said you’ve got to settle a score. You mentioned the black wing that has been flying over your head throughout your life, destroying everything dear to you. Your concerns are noble and sensible, but everyone has a part to play. I, too, am convinced that it’s a good idea for us to part, remaining united only in the interests of a common plan. The Titian trail, sowing heresy and confusion, may bring the dogs out, it may confuse their sense of smell, slow down their progress, as we await the new Pope. But if that’s your task, everyone else is going to have to have something to do as well.’

Jo�o rises to his feet, unsmiling. ‘Aunt Beatriz, you could keep the exit clear. Your charisma and your contacts at the court of Ferrara, where we are in good favour both because of your loans to the duke and your great personal refinement, could guarantee a safe passage for everyone if things were to heat up. I’ll stay here in Venice, to call in favours in return for the donations we’ve made. Now’s the time for the patricians and merchants of the city to show their proper appreciation of the people who keep them in such splendid style, and who keep their affairs afloat. Meanwhile I can take care of new business, the routes we’ve opened up with the Turks.’

He turns back towards Perna. ‘You’d be better off staying out of sight for a while. I want you to be my agent on the eastern coast. Your job will be to spread the new translation of The Benefit in Croatia and Dalmatia, to Ragusa and beyond. You won’t just be dealing with books, you’ll be my link beyond the reach of the Inquisition.’

The little man jumps up: ‘Selling books to the Turks? Am I dreaming here? Going up and down the coast on those stinking little tubs? Is that to be the fate of Pietro Perna, a man with a reputation, a man respected from Basle to Rome? Ludovico, say something!’

‘Yes, you’re right, you need a new name. Something less respectable, perhaps, but less well known to the cops.’

Perna slumps into his chair, almost disappearing into it, his legs dangling.

Jo�o smiles at Demetra. ‘The fascinating donna Demetra will go on managing the Caratello as though nothing had happened, constantly on the alert for any indiscretions on the part of her affluent customers. Any information could be valuable. We’ll keep an eye on her and the girls while Ludovico is away.’

Beatrice: ‘There’s no point denying that our fate depends to a large extent on the identity of