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

without comment. After two weeks, old women began to nod to him as he passed. Hebrew kept him busy inside his head, and Arabic threw him.
    He spent long hours lying on his narrow bed in his inn, staring at the crazed cracks in the plaster of the ceiling and chanting verb endings to himself.
    Every evening, he would meet Alessandro, and sometimes the other men, in his tavern’s main room. Alessandro was increasingly restless at the delay.
    Early in the third week, Alessandro appeared at Swan’s door in the early afternoon. Swan was fully dressed, sitting at a table – a very small table – writing by the light of an open window.
    Alessandro leaned over him and watched his pen move. ‘Arabic,’ he said.
    Swan nodded.
    ‘You make a face like a fish when you concentrate,’ Alessandro said.
    ‘Uh?’ Swan said.
    ‘I need you for a duel,’ Alessandro said.
    ‘A duel?’ Swan asked.
    ‘One of my idiot cousins made a stupid remark in public and now I have to fight,’ said the Venetian.
    Swan shrugged. ‘Do I have to fight?’
    ‘Possibly.’ Alessandro shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. And I meant to give you lessons, but my time is not my own.’
    ‘When?’ Swan asked, reviewing his list of nouns.
    ‘Now?’ Alessandro said. The man was so seldom at a loss that Swan took a moment to recognise what was happening. ‘Are you in trouble, my friend?’
    Alessandro blushed. ‘Yes. But think nothing of it.’
    Swan had been working in his second-best shirt. He wiped his fingers idly on it and made a face when he saw how much ink he’d smeared. He found the inn’s towel and wiped his hands on that, instead, but the damage was done. He pulled on his dull black doublet, and laced it. The black doublet and hose were worn by virtually every young man in Venice, regardless of class. The slightly fashionable Florentine cut of Swan’s actually added to his anonymity.
    ‘Don’t wear your sword,’ Alessandro said. ‘You aren’t a citizen.’ He held his hands wide. ‘Carry it. With the belt wrapped around it.’
    ‘Do I get a buckler?’ Swan asked.
    ‘Of course!’ Alessandro said.
    Swan perched a small hat with an enormous ostrich plume and a small jewel on his head. Foreigners were not allowed to wear jewels on clothes, but hats weren’t included in the sumptuary law. The jewel was glass.
    Peter was sitting in the kitchen, drinking wine and helping prepare food. He was very popular in the inn.
    ‘I’m going to fight a duel,’ Swan called.
    Peter waved. ‘If you kill the fellow, take his money. Do you need me?’ he asked.
    Swan looked at Alessandro, who gave a minute shake of his head. ‘Three in a boat,’ he said with a shrug.
    They walked down to the Grand Canal, caught a boat on the steps by St Mark’s, and were rowed across the lagoon, past Murano, to a small island with a monastery.
    As they approached, Alessandro began to fidget.
    ‘Care to tell me what happened?’ Swan asked.
    Alessandro shook his head. ‘A matter of honour. But I fear my enemy has brought too many men, and intends a murder.’
    As the boat edged up on the island, Swan could see six men standing by the monastery wall.
    Swan felt his pulse increase. ‘Three each,’ he said.
    Alessandro looked at him. ‘You cannot kill any of these men,’ he said. ‘You would be imprisoned or killed. Their fathers are very important men.’
    ‘So is your father,’ Swan said.
    ‘My father is going to disown me,’ Alessandro said, and the keel of the boat touched the muddy shore.
    He jumped ashore, and looked back. ‘Perhaps you should go back to your inn,’ he said, and pushed the boat off the strand. The six men were coming. ‘I’m sorry, Thomas. I didn’t think it would be this bad.’
    Swan ran down the gunwale, as he’d learned to do on London wherries, and leapt ashore. He grinned. ‘What did you do?’ he asked.
    Alessandro shook his head. ‘It is difficult to explain. It is an old matter.’
    The six men were approaching.
    ‘Let me