Tom Swan and the Head of St George Part Two: Venice Read Online Free PDF Page A

very good at picking his fights, sat with his eyes down.
    The cardinal nodded. ‘I need money,’ he said suddenly. ‘I imagine you would not be averse to some?’
    This abrupt change of direction left Swan feeling naked. ‘Yes. No.’ He looked around. ‘What?’
    The cardinal laughed and rang a bell. Alessandro came in with Giannis.
    ‘I would like to send the three of you to Greece. To Constantinople, to be precise. I would like you to go to my former house and retrieve . . . things. I won’t endanger you more than this – go to my house, and retrieve what you find there. And get the – hmm – objects on a ship, and bring them here.’
    Giannis pursed his lips. ‘The Holy City has fallen, my prince.’
    Alessandro sucked a tooth and winced. ‘Ottoman Constantinople.’ He looked at the cardinal. ‘Not easy.’
    Bessarion nodded slowly. ‘There’s a letter – from the Pope – to the Sultan. An official letter. One of the bishops will carry it.’ He shrugged. ‘I refused the duty. But I offered to provide the escort.’
    ‘How soon?’ Swan asked.
    ‘A week, at least. Perhaps more.’ He looked at Alessandro.
    The Italian shook his head. ‘Messire Swan should leave Rome. Will we go by ship?’
    ‘Of course. From Ancona or Genoa.’ The cardinal fidgeted with his cross.
    ‘Not Venice?’
    ‘Possibly Venice! Why do you ask?’ The cardinal looked at him.
    ‘We could send them ahead to arrange lodgings and so on. Our business for you is secret, yes?’ Alessandro leaned forward.
    ‘Yes. I see.’ Bessarion leaned back. ‘Venice.’
    Alessandro nodded. ‘I will miss you, Eminence. But the Orsini will not look for this young fool in Venice, and I will enjoy seeing my family.’ He grinned. ‘Even if they may not enjoy seeing me.’
    The cardinal reached into his table drawer and pulled out a box. ‘I have heard that it takes money to make money,’ he said. ‘I have a hundred ducats for each of you, and Alessandro will have another three hundred on account. Any bank will make it good.’ He looked at Swan. ‘The very best thing to bring out of Greece right now is books.’
    Swan nodded. His heart was afire with the excitement of the trip – the adventure. ‘Books,’ he said.
    ‘Books,’ said Cardinal Bessarion. ‘Ancient Greek books .’ He smiled. ‘If you can’t find books, find relics. Preferably famous ones, and preferably real ones.’ He looked at Alessandro. ‘There is a rumour that the head of Saint George is no longer in Hagia Sophia,’ he said.
    Giannis crossed himself. ‘Someone saved it?’
    ‘Someone stole it,’ Bessarion said. ‘See if you can . . . recover it.’
    Alessandro fingered his beard. ‘The head of Saint George,’ he whispered. He sounded . . . awestruck.
    Venice was – perhaps – the most wonderful place that Thomas Swan had ever been. Even more wonderful then Rome.
    First, it was like a floating city. Men said Venice was wedded to the sea. Those men weren’t Englishmen, because they said it with disdain, or wonder. Swan had grown up with the sea, in the form of the Thames, at his bedside and his front door, and something about Venice made him feel very comfortable.
    And then there were the ships.
    A young Thomas Swan had leaned in the doorway of the Swan inn and watched the ships sail by, row by, be towed by. He’d waved at sailors and dreamed of adventure. He’d served sailors in his mother’s inn.
    Every street in Venice had ships at the end of it. The great thoroughfares ran to wharves and warehouses, and the smaller streets were canals. The very smallest alleys were paved. There were bridges, and you had to take a boat to get anywhere.
    Just like London.
    Like London, but richer. The great of Venice were rich to a degree that made London look a little tawdry, but other elements were similar. Alessandro’s family – the Bembii – were ancient aristocrats and merchants, with relatives who ranged from members of the inner council to penniless