Inquisition
Mondino. ‘And for how long?’
    ‘I don’t know. The fact is that no one dares make any decisions in the absence of the Inquisitor. It seems that they’re all petrified at the idea of making a mistake.’
    Mondino nodded. During their brief encounter, the Inquisitor had not appeared to him to be a man inclined towards clemency. He was about to ask more questions, when their host requested silence for the commencement of the banquet. By now the guests were all seated and the steaming soup tureens containing the ravioli in broth for the first course were already towering over the tables.
    The speech of thanks given by the graduate was suitably brief. Then the rector of the cismontane university, to which the new doctor belonged, spoke of his appreciation. After this there was a prayer and then they began to eat. Fortunately there was a bowl for every two guests and everyone had their own spoon. This was not always the case and sometimes resulted in detestably ill-mannered scenes. At some of the poorer banquets where Mondino had been present, the less important guests, who were often left without bowl or cutlery, forgot all sense of decorum and launched themselves on the tureen itself, slurping the soup with cupped hands and dirtying their sleeves up to the elbows.
    The servants refilled the bowls with broth teeming with pieces of ravioli about the size of half a chestnut, and the assembly of serious professors dedicated all due attention to eating. However, Mondino left most of their shared bowl to his uncle, hardly even tasting the broth. He didn’t know how to get more information out of Liuzzo without arousing suspicion, and he certainly couldn’t reveal to his uncle what he had done with Gerardo: Liuzzo would be absolutely furious.
    And yet he had to do something. If another corpse had appeared in the city, similar to that of Angelo da Piczano, then he must see it. Perhaps he would find some clues that would help him catch the murderer before the man was taken by the Inquisition. If the priests got their hands on him first, under torture the man would surely confess to the killing of another templar in the same way, and that would soon lead to Gerardo’s arrest. For the moment, at least so he hoped, the comune would have better things to think about than pursuing a student suspected of causing a fire that had not done much damage. But two murders such as those of Angelo da Piczano and the German in Santo Stefano would set off a manhunt from which Gerardo would not be able to escape. And the arrest after that would be his own.
    General conversation took up again while the servants removed the now empty tureens and brought great platters full of civet of hare à la française. Liuzzo did not even make as if to serve himself, simply waiting for his nephew to serve them both. Out of the platter, Mondino picked three fine pieces of meat covered in abundant dark sauce, laying them out on a thick slice of bread, which he placed on the tablecloth between the two of them.
    ‘Mondino, there is something tormenting you,’ said Liuzzo. He said nothing more, but it was clear that he was waiting for an explanation.
    ‘Well yes, Uncle,’ replied Mondino, taking up a piece of hare between his fingers and starting to eat it more for appearance’s sake than because he had an appetite. ‘If you want to know, the idea that the priests are taking it upon themselves to administer justice in our homes does not please me one bit. That death of which you were telling me was a templar? fine, let the comune judges be consulted and no one will deny the Inquisition permission to treat the murder as their own. But it’s this deceit, this presumption, that I dislike.’
    He had begun his speech more than anything to divert his uncle’s attention, but then he’d become genuinely heated, as he did every time that he spoke of the interference of the papacy in the life of the city. He was suddenly silent, while an idea that had come from

Similar Books

Yesterday's Gone: Season One

Sean Platt, David Wright

Sweepers

P. T. Deutermann

The Pretender

Jaclyn Reding

Mary Jane's Grave

Stacy Dittrich