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Chapter One

All night the hot wind had swept up the Adriatic, and from the crowded docks down by the arsenale to the Isola di San Chiara at the western s like a vast, weary ship; and clouds as ragged as tatters of sailcloth scudded across the face of the fullwith the silhouettes of a hundred fantastic spires and domes

In the narrow Rio de San Lorenzo, though, the sondola cast more reflections in the water than the unwale to stir the black water with his fingers and ht He shifted uneasily on the seat, e at someone else's expense

'I'll walk to my boat from here'

'Pull in to the fondarowled finally

The gondolier obediently dug his long pole into the canal bottoed up to the eed step 'Thank you' Duffy ducked under the awning of the felze and took a long step to a dry stair while the boatondola steady

Up on the sidewalk the Irishman turned 'Marozzo paid you to takehie'

The gondolier shrugged 'Perhaps' He pushed away froan poling his way back up the glittering watercourse, softly calling, Stali!" to draw any possible fares Duffy stared after hi the ee of the Greeks

He was reeling just a little because of the quantities of valpolicella he'd consue roused when he heard the Irishure critically, noting the long, worn cloak, evidence of frequent outdoor sleeping; the kneehigh boots, down at the heels, and twenty years out of fashion; and the rapier and dagger which looked to be thesilently back into the shadows, he let Duffy go by unaccosted

The Irishman hadn't even been aware of the thief's scrutiny; he was staring moodily ahead at the tall bulk of the church of San Zaccaria, its gothic design undisguised by the Renaissance adorn just how much he would miss this city when he left Only a matter of time,' Marozzo had said over dinner 'Venice is ht noith that grovelling treaty they signed eight years ago Mark me now, Brian before our hair is co the uses of the sciht sword, and our students will be wearing turbans' Duffy had replied that he'd shave his head and run naked with the jungle pygmies before he'd teach a Turk even how to blow his nose, and the conversation had ht The days of Venice's poere fifty years gone

Duffy kicked a stray pebble away into the darkness and heard it plop into the canal after bouncing twice along the pavement Time to move on, he told himself morosely Venice has done its recuperative job, and these days I have to look closely to see the scars I got at Mohacs two and a half years ago And God knows I've already done- let this city bow to the Crescent if it wants to, while I go somewhere else I may even take ship back to Ireland

I wonder, he thought, if anyone back in Dingle would re lad as sent off to Dublin to study for Holy Orders They all hoped I'd eventually take the Archbisbopric of Connaught, as so many of my forefathers did

Duffy chuckled ruefully There I disappointed them As he clules and whispering froined, entertaining one of the Young rounds That's what cohters into a nunnery to save the expense of a dowry -they wind up a good deal wilder than if you'd si around the house

I Wonder, he thought with a grin, what sort of priest I would have made Picture yourself pale and softvoiced, Duffyhither and yon in a cassock that smells of incense Ho ho I never even came near it Why, he reflected, within a week of ued by the odd occurrences that led, before long, toI certainly didn't recognize, were discovered on nearly every page of ht stroll with an elderly priest, seven young oak trees, one after another, twisted theround as I passed; and of course worst of all, there was the tiht Easter , they later told me, for the need-fires to be lit on the hilltops and the old king to be brought forth and killed