Q - Luther Blissett (interesting novels to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Luther Blissett
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The mechanism is already under way. The Inquisition and the Venetian courts have begun putting marginal members of the Sephardic community on trial, on charges of crypto-Judaism. But it’s the big fish they’re really after.
And to get them they need someone like me. Someone with thirty years of spiritual warfare behind him, and capable of creating a diffuse hostility against the Jews in the city, identifying them as the source of all ills, preparing the ground for an offensive that will put the entire community under attack.
I accepted enthusiastically.
I concealed my surprise at seeing my time extended.
I showed the mask of the zealot, which does not belong to me any more.
The last job before my well-earned rest.
One last vile deed.
Reserved for the one who has always been privy to Carafa’s secrets.
I thought I’d reached the end. I’ve been given a reprieve. For how long? And why?
The robust and ravenous Dominicans who crowd these corridors would not be able to conduct intrigues of this kind. They’re too fanatical. They’re too full of the role entrusted to them, they’re incapable of subtle strategies, however effective they might be in their blind persecution of the prey that has been pointed out to them. All in broad daylight. Carafa is preparing them for the most important offensive of the spiritual war.� The day of reckoning, after ten years of accurate planning. The construction to which I have contributed, brick by brick, will be completed by others, and very soon. The coming Council, strongly desired by Emperor, seems to be the moment when Carafa will reveal his cards, unleashing his frontal attack against the spirituali. The tension on the faces and in the voices of the young followers led by Michele Ghislieri, a hawk flying high in the old man’s consideration, tells me that all hesitation is about to come to an end.
I will not be involved in that part of the game because I know all the moves leading up to it: Carafa is very well aware that two people can keep a secret only if one of them is dead.
In the meantime he is entrusting me with the last dirty crusade, one for which I no longer have the stomach: inventing the new enemy and guiding it towards the Christian army. Anyone who goes into this battle is guaranteed an ample recompense: the wealth of his victims and a place in heaven. The Venetians are the first, others will inevitably follow.
My task, as ever, is to prepare the ground for the first slaughter. Then all I will have to do is keep my secret. Under six feet of earth.
I accepted enthusiastically. Venice. There’s still time to solve the mystery. This time I won’t be the tireless and efficient servant that Carafa has known in the past. The mystery, and its imminent solution, will occupy all the time remaining to me.
Coast of Romagna, 5th February 1551
‘Dalmatia was a great success, pals!’ Perna skims a stone across the surface of the water. ‘The people eat pretty badly, you know? But they’re choosy about what they read. If we keep on like this we’re going to be famous as the distributors of the best-selling book after the Bible.’
A chilly wind that smells of night, sea and resin. On the beach, with Pietro Perna and Jo�o Miquez, a meeting to exchange information and plan our immediate future. A meeting of pirates, like the one many seasons ago on the shores of Holland. My hand sinks slowly into the cold sand, the sun does the same beyond the pine forest.
We go into the fishermen’s shack. Inside, the fire is already going. The nets hang drying from the ceiling.
I try to catch Jo�o’s eye: ‘Any word of Demetra?’
He turns with a nod: ‘That woman’s making you a rich man. The last time I passed by the Caratello there wasn’t a free table. As far as I can see she’s fine, I don’t know of anyone giving her any trouble.’
‘And what about here in Romagna?’ Perna shakes me by an arm. ‘I hope you haven’t missed out on the chance of a drop of that extraordinary Sangiovese Sangue di Bue. They say it’s an absolute dream, you know?’
I take the bottle out of my pocket and uncork it under his nose: ‘Be my guest.’
Perna takes a series of thirsty gulps. ‘I had to come and unearth you down here so that you’d offer me some more of your splendid wine. What else is there to delight the palate in the middle of these marshlands?’
‘The people of these parts hate the clergy from the depths of their guts. I’ve met a great variety of people, baptised peasants and fishermen, merchants and drunkards: all of them stubborn in the same way, all of them with fire where their blood should be. I don’t think it should be difficult to stir up people’s minds around here.’
Jo�o: ‘What about the Benefit?’
‘The cargoes have been turning up regularly. I’ve been selling them well. I work through the smugglers around here. A pretty rough crowd, grim-looking, speaking a dialect that I can still barely understand, but they’re shrewd and close to the people. Not one of them can read or write, but they immediately understood how useful this business could be.’
Jo�o whistles through a sea-shell and then shakes his head. ‘It’s better that way. I think it’s best if you stay on your travels for a bit longer.’
I look at him, hoping for an explanation.
‘The authorities have caught wind of the Anabaptist council. There haven’t been any arrests as yet, but they’re all on the qui vive. Venice is crawling with cops, spies, informers, you can’t trust anyone… Since the promulgation of the Index, they’re keeping a particularly close eye on the printers, and books aren’t circulating as easily as they were before. And there’s something else that’s new: some converted Jews, friends of ours, people we know well, have been arrested on charges of crypto-Judaism. The first trials are being announced, they’re all pretty marginal for the time being, they’re not high profile, but these are things I’ve seen before. The first cloud that heralds the storm, the indelible mark of the Inquisition, as in Spain, as in Portugal.’
Perna: ‘You know that mate of yours? You know, the Pope? Big bloke, dodgy line in reading matter? Well, it doesn’t seem to me that he want to keep the slavering hounds of the Holy Office under control. All hell’s about to break loose around here, and we could have our cocks on the block if we’re not careful.’
Miquez: ‘I’m using all the diplomacy at my command to sound out the mood of the merchants who do business with us. I’m trying to hint that there are concrete concerns for what might happen to them if we were incriminated. I don’t think it’s enough. Diplomacy and corruption are indispensable weapons at the moment, but they still aren’t enough. It’s better to be prepared for all eventualities. However, the way the wind’s blowing it’s better if you stay a long way away from Venice for the time being.’
‘Fine, but not for much longer. I’m slowly getting fed up to the back teeth acting the prophet at my age. Titian’s sown enough seeds for now. The Anabaptist council has affirmed the union of the community in its dissent from the Church. Circles frequented by prominent figures in every state in Italy are putting pressure on the authorities. One great painter whom I’ve been lucky enough to get to know, Jacopo da Pontormo, is painting a fresco of The Benefit of Christ Crucified in the chapel where Cosimo de’ Medici is going to be buried. A wonderful work, I’ve seen the sketches and part of the finished painting, which he’s carrying out in secret. All the communities are active: the first stone has been cast, and we’re about to see the consequences. Meanwhile you must keep me informed about what’s happening in Venice. The details are important, too.’
We sit there in silence. The wash of the tide lulls our sleepy thoughts, our heads are heavy. Our elongated shadows slide along the walls to the ceiling.
Perna jerks up his head, as though woken by a sudden sound, his eyes small and red with fatigue: ‘Could I have another drop of that nectar of yours?’
Q’s diary.
Venice, 24th February 1551
In Venice I’m one among many. A spy in the land of spies. There are many of them observing, taking notes, and then referring back to whichever boss they happen to be working for, and they’re often in the service of several bosses at once. Turks, Austrians, Englishmen: there is no power, party or commercial enterprise that doesn’t have an interest in keeping its eyes and ears in every corner of this city. Everyone’s spying on everyone else, in a baffling system of double, triple, quadruple games. Within this maze of conflicting strategies and conspiracies I should be able to bring out the common interests required to capture the Jews.
How?
Meanwhile I am keeping my mind alert with the intrigues designed to lubricate the pact between Carafa and the Venetians.
On the 21st of this month the Council of Ten banished the Barnabite Fathers and the Angelic Sisters from Venice, on charges of passing on restricted information, gathered in the confessional, to the governor of Milan, Ferrante Gonzaga, a vassal of the Emperor. In this way Carafa managed to shake off a competitor, and at the same time close the eyes and ears of Charles V in Venice. The old Theatine’s cunning is breathtaking. Not only does he manage to clear the field of his enemies in preparation for major manoeuvres, but he allows the Venetians to confirm their reputation as upright custodians of their own affairs, unique in their unwillingness to tolerate interference from anyone, not even from Rome. The old man pretends to be sorry as he tightens the vice.
I’ve been in Venice for a few months. I don’t frequent many places myself, but I have many eyes in my pay, observing the things that interest me. The brothel of the dead heresiarch of Antwerp above all. Not so much as a shadow of him: he’s more of a ghost than anyone. I must be patient. Collect additional information about Titian. And meanwhile pursue the task assigned to me.
Q’s diary.
Venice, 9th March 1551
My eyes in the offices of the Magistracy devoted to foreigners mention a strange influx of people to the city in October last year. Shady characters, minor artisans, businessmen, clerics, men of letters, including some from a long way away. About a hundred whose presence is hard to explain in relation to the affairs of Venice. None of them stayed more than a week. A black mark in the archives of the local authorities.
The names tell us nothing. Apart from one. Pietro Manelfi, the son of Ippolito Manelfi, a cleric from Ancona.
The same name that appeared among the acolytes of the crypto-Protestant circle in Florence.
The same circle frequented by Titian between ‘49 and ‘50.
A clue.
Report this name to the Inquisitors of the neighbouring territories: Milan, Ferrara, Bologna.
Venice, 16th March 1551
A missive has arrived from the Father Inquisitor of Romagna.
Some artisans in Ravenna have been interrogated about the practice of adult baptism. They state that they have heard of a certain Titian who was devoted to this no more than a month ago, in the low lands around the city. They also say that this Titian spoke out
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