Erik almost laughed. You mean the mess you’ve stirred up with your idiot witch-hunts.
“Both the servants and Knights of the Trinity are only too pleased to help serve God and your Venice,” finished the abbot, lamely. “Eh, Ritters?”
Erik nodded. “It would be our pleasure.”
Manfred bowed deeply. Which was a good thing, thought Erik. It helped to hide his grin.
Dorma bowed in return. “Thank you. If you would be ready by Lauds, tomorrow morning, I will have some of my Schiopettieri come to meet you here. I’ll take my leave now.” He sighed. “Affairs of state, business, and at the moment, family. The last are the worst, believe me!”
Sachs motioned to the two knights to stay, and showed his guest out. When he returned, his face was sour.
“A silly business, asking knights to serve as common policemen. But . . .” He shrugged irritably. “You are to make yourselves available for Lord Dorma. Whatever he wants. You are dismissed.”
* * *
Erik was not surprised to find Petro Dorma waiting for them around the corner. He had been certain that Dorma had said as little as possible in the presence of Sachs.
“You’d like more than just the two of us, I imagine.”
The Venetian lord nodded. “Yes, please. At least half a dozen, as heavily armed as possible.” He smiled grimly. “I want to overawe the Dandelos from the very beginning. And for that purpose, Knights of the Holy Trinity will serve far better than Schiopettieri.”
He hesitated. “Of course, I do not expect you to do anything which would jeopardize your good standing with the abbot.”
Manfred snorted. Erik just smiled. “We were told ‘whatever Lord Dorma wants.’ That seems clear enough.” He and Manfred exchanged glances.
“Von Gherens, for sure,” said Manfred. “Let him pick the others. Except I’d like Gerhard Bach along.”
Erik’s smile widened. “Bach, eh? Yes, I agree.”
Dorma looked back and forth from one to the other, his eyes expressing a slight question.
“Gerhard Bach’s our gunnery expert,” explained Manfred cheerfully. “He’s got a new little bombard he’s been dying to test under field conditions.”
Dorma seemed to choke a little. Then, after a moment, grinned himself. “A bombard, you say . . . Well, why not? The main door to Casa Dandelo may not open quickly enough.”
“I can guarantee it won’t open quickly enough,” growled Erik. “No matter how fast they try.”
* * *
“I must talk to Francesca,” said Erik, as they walked down the passage after parting company with Dorma. “We’ve got some time. And—” He glanced at Manfred. “At this time of day she won’t be, ah, occupied.”
Manfred looked at him with some amusement. “So long as it’s only talk. But why?”
Erik shrugged. “Because she understands all this intrigue and I do not. And it is my task to keep you safe in it.”
* * *
“The way I see it,” said Manfred, going into the breech, “these ‘Strega’ are not in the clear at all when it comes to Father Belgio’s murder. They can hire their killing done as well as anyone else.”
Francesca smiled at him the way a teacher smiles at a bright pupil . . . who has managed half the answer. She ruffled his hair and neatly evaded his arm, going to sit instead on the arm of Erik’s chair. “True. But as you rightly point out, so could anyone else—if it was paid for. But,” she held up an elegantly manicured hand, “it would have to be a rich anyone. The Church does not take kindly to its clerics being assassinated. And beside the chance of excommunication, their investigators are ferocious. This was professionally done, and that doesn’t come cheap. And there are very few who do it well.”
She paused, thinking. “If it was paid for . . . well, the first name that springs to mind is your blond friend Caesare Aldanto. Or, as a second choice, Giuliano Dell’Arta. Although Giuliano probably makes more as swordmaster than he does killing people. Both of them have powerful protectors, and are pretty much immune to Petro Dorma. If it was done to further the aims of the factions, Bruno Di Netto is Rome’s man. The Metropolitan’s chief executioner in Venice. Francisco Aleri is in charge of Milan’s—and he has the whole Montagnard faction at his command. They ship men in and out. The Republic’s Council of Ten . . . well, they keep their secrets. So do the imperials, although I suspect Count DeMarien or Von Stemitz.” She smiled. “Enough, Erik?”