wish The Ten would send us some nobles
to work here. More brains, less thickheaded.'
The eyes in the masked face looked from Giacomo to
the boy on the floor. Filthy, shirtless, bleeding, snivelling.
A mere glass monkey. With a flounce of the black cloak,
the agent was gone.
Giacomo picked up the tear-sodden boy and cradled
him in his arms while he wept. Not just now, but for years
later, as his apprentice, living in his house, when Corradino
woke at night screaming.
In my dream my mother smells of vanilla and blood.
Giacomo never told the other maestri where his new garzon
was from. And he never told Corradino what his neighbour
told him of the fisherman's house where the Manin family
had been found. It was left as a warning - empty, no bodies,
but its white walls slick with blood from floor to ceiling,
like the scene of a butchery.
Of course, they found Corradino eventually. But it took
five years, and by that time Giacomo, now foreman of
the fornace, was able to plead for his apprentice's life in
front of the Council, in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio
of the Doge's Palace. He stood, tiny in the cavernous
rooms, beneath the riotous frescoes of red and gold, and
argued Corradino's case before The Ten. For the boy, at
the age of fifteen, was almost preternaturally talented.
He could already work with glass like no-one Giacomo
had seen.
The Council was disposed to keep Corradino alive. The
Manin family was no threat any more, it was practically
wiped out, and Corradino would be kept, like all other
maestri, a prisoner on Murano.
How were any of those gathered on that day, when
Giacomo pled for Corradino's life, to know that they were
wrong about the fortunes of the Manin family? How was
poor dead Corrado Manin to know that his family would
rise at last to greatness, and that one of his descendants would
occupy the throne of the Doge? And how were any of
them to know that Lodovico Manin would be the last
Doge ofVenice who would, in that very chamber, sign the
death warrant of the Republic? That when he put his hand
to the Treaty of Campo Formic, in 1797 the city would
be sold to Austria, and Manin's signature would sit below
that of Venice's new ruler, Napoleon Bonaparte?
If the Council had known, they would not have spared
Corradino Manin. But they did not know, and they did
spare him.
Not through the quality of mercy, but because of the
mirrors that he made.
CHAPTER 9
Paradiso Perduto
Leonora got to the Cantina Do Mori at a quarter to three
on Saturday. As she looked at the frontage of the cafe with
its distinctive bottle-glass doors she wondered if she had
been the victim of an elaborate joke. Perhaps Officer
Bardolino was laughing at her with his workmates. Leonora
gave herself a little shake - this wasn't primary school. She
had been so affected by her situation at work that the
shoots of her paranoia were taking hold. The man seemed
to be in earnest - no doubt he would like to find a tenant
for his cousin. She would just go in and wait.
It was raining so the cafe was quite busy. But despite the
crowds Leonora found a quiet table at the back under a
huge double mirror. She admired the workmanship, and
the slightly greeny-gold look of old glass in its gilded
baroque frame. The bevel seemed perfect to her although
she knew the work must be centuries old. She ordered an
espresso and looked around at her leisure. The clientele today were clearly Venetian - the waiter had addressed her
in Veneziano, and she had surprised herself with the force
with which she replied in her fluent Italian, echoing his
local accent with her own. Once again she felt pleased
that Officer Bardolino had suggested this place. It was still
a secret well kept from the tourist hordes. Then it occurred
to her that he was, in a courteous way, attempting to give
her a treat.
If he shows up.
But she need not have worried. On the dot of three, with
the characteristic efficiency
to work here. More brains, less thickheaded.'
The eyes in the masked face looked from Giacomo to
the boy on the floor. Filthy, shirtless, bleeding, snivelling.
A mere glass monkey. With a flounce of the black cloak,
the agent was gone.
Giacomo picked up the tear-sodden boy and cradled
him in his arms while he wept. Not just now, but for years
later, as his apprentice, living in his house, when Corradino
woke at night screaming.
In my dream my mother smells of vanilla and blood.
Giacomo never told the other maestri where his new garzon
was from. And he never told Corradino what his neighbour
told him of the fisherman's house where the Manin family
had been found. It was left as a warning - empty, no bodies,
but its white walls slick with blood from floor to ceiling,
like the scene of a butchery.
Of course, they found Corradino eventually. But it took
five years, and by that time Giacomo, now foreman of
the fornace, was able to plead for his apprentice's life in
front of the Council, in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio
of the Doge's Palace. He stood, tiny in the cavernous
rooms, beneath the riotous frescoes of red and gold, and
argued Corradino's case before The Ten. For the boy, at
the age of fifteen, was almost preternaturally talented.
He could already work with glass like no-one Giacomo
had seen.
The Council was disposed to keep Corradino alive. The
Manin family was no threat any more, it was practically
wiped out, and Corradino would be kept, like all other
maestri, a prisoner on Murano.
How were any of those gathered on that day, when
Giacomo pled for Corradino's life, to know that they were
wrong about the fortunes of the Manin family? How was
poor dead Corrado Manin to know that his family would
rise at last to greatness, and that one of his descendants would
occupy the throne of the Doge? And how were any of
them to know that Lodovico Manin would be the last
Doge ofVenice who would, in that very chamber, sign the
death warrant of the Republic? That when he put his hand
to the Treaty of Campo Formic, in 1797 the city would
be sold to Austria, and Manin's signature would sit below
that of Venice's new ruler, Napoleon Bonaparte?
If the Council had known, they would not have spared
Corradino Manin. But they did not know, and they did
spare him.
Not through the quality of mercy, but because of the
mirrors that he made.
CHAPTER 9
Paradiso Perduto
Leonora got to the Cantina Do Mori at a quarter to three
on Saturday. As she looked at the frontage of the cafe with
its distinctive bottle-glass doors she wondered if she had
been the victim of an elaborate joke. Perhaps Officer
Bardolino was laughing at her with his workmates. Leonora
gave herself a little shake - this wasn't primary school. She
had been so affected by her situation at work that the
shoots of her paranoia were taking hold. The man seemed
to be in earnest - no doubt he would like to find a tenant
for his cousin. She would just go in and wait.
It was raining so the cafe was quite busy. But despite the
crowds Leonora found a quiet table at the back under a
huge double mirror. She admired the workmanship, and
the slightly greeny-gold look of old glass in its gilded
baroque frame. The bevel seemed perfect to her although
she knew the work must be centuries old. She ordered an
espresso and looked around at her leisure. The clientele today were clearly Venetian - the waiter had addressed her
in Veneziano, and she had surprised herself with the force
with which she replied in her fluent Italian, echoing his
local accent with her own. Once again she felt pleased
that Officer Bardolino had suggested this place. It was still
a secret well kept from the tourist hordes. Then it occurred
to her that he was, in a courteous way, attempting to give
her a treat.
If he shows up.
But she need not have worried. On the dot of three, with
the characteristic efficiency
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