Clio nodded.
“But I looked at the embroidery, and the poem. If you put the two pieces of the embroidery together there’s still a chunk missing, I think about half a centimeter where it’s frayed.” Clio nodded. She’d seen that when she’d tried. “But you see a few things. There’s some lettering I don’t have an explanation for, and the portraits I can’t identify in such a short time. Because they’re of women, it’s less likely we can find a name for them because history rarely records the names of women. What I can tell you is that there are two heraldry shields in that section in the middle. One got ripped through and it’s impossible to get anything from it. The other is damaged but complete and I think I might know which family it relates to. Honestly, I’m not sure I would have figured it out without the clue I got from Eleanor Bruton’s poem, the line that says, ‘He who on the ladder has the sacred bird displayed.’” Clio nodded, and Zofia went on. “So, I think, if you look carefully, that we can just make out the outline of a ladder in this shield and there are a set of bird wings above it, both of which are mentioned in the poem. Do you see?”
Clio peered at the photograph on her phone. “Ithinkso,” she said but it was really hard to tell.
“The ladder and eagle are emblems for the Della Scala family, from Verona, in Italy,” Zofia said. “A very famous family. They ruled Verona for centuries. And look, the blue and the yellow? Those are the colors of the city of Verona. The Della Scala family was famous for hosting the poet Dante when he visited Verona. Okay? So, I was looking at Dante. This is what he wrote: ‘Your first refuge and your first inn shall be the courtesy of the great Lombard, he who on theladder bears the sacred bird.’”
“That’s a line in Eleanor Bruton’s poem!” Clio said.
“And the man who hosted Dante was a powerful aristocrat called Cangrande. Which in English means Big Dog. Eleanor Bruton had worked out that this came from Verona, I think.”
“Wow,” Clio said. “Thank you.”
“That’s all I have on the embroidery, but I think it has more stories to tell. It was nice to see it. It’s very rare to have a book covered in fabric at this time from Italy. It was more common in England.”
“Do you think we can find out who the women in the portraits are?” Clio asked.
“I would need a library. It’s too risky for me to do more. I left all this behind for a reason.”
Clio heard the plea in her voice. “I understand,” she said. “Thanks so much for everything.”
“Can you promise me something?”
“Try me.”
“Will you look after the new girl? I have a Google alert, and I know the Institute just hired someone. A young academic. I’m worried for her.”
“Of course. What’s her name?”
“Dr. Anya Brown.”
In the quiet after the call ended, Clio looked up Dr. Brown. There was an impressive press release about her work, includinga photo of a young woman with a sweet but hesitant smile. She’d only just started at the Institute. Clio wanted to talk to her, but she needed to know a bit about her first. You could find a lot of murk beneath the surface of even the nicest-looking people. The easiest way to do it would be to run Anya’s name through the systems at work, but she couldn’t log on from her flat.
She messaged Izzy, asking her if she’d do it, without explanation, and waited nervously for the reply, wondering if it was too soon to ask a favor.
She got a quick reply.Can you talk?
Sure, Clio wrote back.
Give me five.
She picked up on the first ring. Izzy was clearly outside. Wind whistled down the line.
“I just stepped out of the office,” she said.
“You’re working late.”
“Yeah. Listen, I take it you’re still interested in the St. Katherine case?”
“Definitely.”
“The boss is going up to St. Andrews to interview the staff at the Institute. I overheard him talking about it. One of the lecturers’ husbands just died in suspicious circumstances. His body was found on the site of some old ruins. Suspected suicide. It looks as if he climbed up there and threw himself off. His partner said he’d been struggling with his mental health for a while. Autopsy is happening tomorrow.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s not all. This Anya Brown you asked me about has gone away.”
“Isn’t it the beginning of term?”
