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“Your friend is being poisoned and the poison is deadly. You feed that caviar to a mongrel dog and you’ll see him die before your eyes.”
“But who would do this?”
“I fear to tell you: the man’s own brother. But you cannot confront him. It won’t be believed. This is what you must do. Instantly insist that the patient be given milk and plenty of it. Say that only white food will restore his spirits. Nothing but white food in which nothing dark has been intermixed.”
“You think this will work?”
“I know it will work. The poison comes from a tree in the orangery below. It’s black. It stains everything it touches black. It’s the black seed of a purple flower.”
“Oooh, I know this poison!” he said. “It comes from Brazil. They call it the Purple Death. I’ve only read of it in my manuals, and in Hebrew. I don’t think it’s known to the Latin doctors. I’ve never seen it.”
“Well, I’ve seen it and I tell you that there is a great quantity of it growing on the tree downstairs. It’s so poisonous I can’t collect it without these gloves and I need a leather pouch in which to put it.”
Quickly he removed a pouch from one of the pockets of his tunic, took the gold out, put this in his purse and gave me the pouch. “Here, can you safely collect it now? Will the guilty person know it when you do it?”
“Not if you keep him very busy. Call Signore Antonio. Call Lodovico. Insist they both hear you out. Say that you suspect the caviar has not helped the patient. Say that he must take milk. Say that the milk will line the stomach and absorb what evil elements are tormenting Niccolò. Say that a woman’s milk is the best of all. But cow’s milk will do, and goat’s milk, and cheese, pure white cheese of the finest quality. The more of this you get into the patient the better. And meantime I shall take care of the poison.”
“But how shall I say I came by this knowledge?”
“Say you have prayed, and you have pondered, and you have considered what has happened since the caviar was first given.”
“That I have, there’s no lie in that.”
“Insist that the milk be tried. The loving father will see no harm in milk. No one will see harm in it. Meanwhile, I’ll return to the orangery and I’ll harvest as much of the poison as I can. But there’s no telling how much the poisoner has already harvested himself for his purposes. I suspect not much. It’s too lethal. He’s been taking only the smallest doses as he needs them.”
Vitale’s face darkened. He shook his head. “You’re telling me Lodovico has done this thing.”
“I believe that he has. But what’s important now is that you get the milk to your patient.”
I hurried down to the small courtyard. The gates were locked. I tried to force them very gently, but it was impossible. Nothing would have done for it but smashing the lock altogether and that I could ill afford to do.
One of the innumerable servants came up to me, a withered being whose garments appeared more like wrappings than clothes. He asked softly if he might be of help.
“Where is Signore Lodovico?” I asked, to indicate only that I’d been looking for him.
“With his father and with the priests.”
“The priests?”
“Let me give you a warning,” whispered this thin toothless being. “Get out of this house now while you can.”
I gave him a searching look, but all he did was shake his head and walk off muttering to himself, leaving me at the locked courtyard gates. Deep inside the courtyard, I could see the bright purple flowers I had sought to harvest. I knew now there was no time for such a plan. And possibly it had not been the best plan.
As I reached Niccolò’s bedchamber again, I saw approaching me Signore Antonio with two elderly priests in long black soutanes with gleaming crucifixes on their chests, and Lodovico, holding his father’s arm. He was weeping again, but when he saw me, he shot me a glance as sharp as a blade.
There was no pretense of cordiality. Indeed, there was a look very like triumph on his face. And the others eyed me with obvious suspicion, though Signore Antonio himself seemed deeply troubled.
From within, I could hear Vitale ordering someone to take the caviar out. This person was arguing with him, and so was Niccolò, but I couldn’t make out all that was being said.
“Young man,” said Signore Antonio to me, “come in here with me now.”
Two other men came behind him, and I saw that they were armed guards. They had visible daggers in their belts, and one wore a sword.
I went into the room first. It was Pico who’d been arguing with Vitale, and the caviar remained where it had been.
Niccolò lay there with his eyes half shut, and his lips dry and cracked. He sighed uneasily.
I prayed that it was not too late.
The guards slipped against the wall behind the chair where I’d been playing the lute earlier. We gathered around the bed.
Signore Antonio eyed me for a long moment and then he stared at Vitale. As for Lodovico, he had given way to tears again, very convincingly, as before.
“Wake up, my son,” said Signore Antonio. “Wake up, and hear the truth from your brother’s lips. I fear it can no longer be avoided, and only in the telling of it can the disaster be averted.”
“What is this, Father?” asked the patient. He seemed weaker than ever, though the caviar sat still where we had left it.
“Speak,” said Signore Antonio to Lodovico.
The young man faltered, wiped at his tears with a silk handkerchief and then said, “I have no choice but to reveal that Vitale, our trusted friend, our confidant, our companion, has in fact bewitched my brother!”
Niccolò sat up with more strength than I’d ever witnessed.
“How dare you say such a thing? You know my friend is incapable of this. Bewitched me how and to what purpose?”
Lodovico gave way to a fresh shower of tears and appealed to his father with open arms.
“Unbeknownst to me, my son,” said Antonio, “this man has craved to keep the house in which he lives, the house in which I let him live while you were ill, the house which I had chosen to bestow on you and your bride. He has summoned the evil spirit there to do his bidding, and it is by means of this evil spirit that he has made you gravely ill, and hopes that you will die so that the house may be his. He has prayed for this to his God. He has prayed for this, and Lodovico has heard his prayers.”
