The outrage of a hundred such declarations paled in comparison to the fury Gaspar felt now, over the life of one. May God forgive him, he would not obey this blind man.
“But shecanbe saved, Patriarch. She has been saved.”
The old man’s nostrils stretched and contracted. “Absolution? From you?”
Gaspar knew he needed to speak quickly before his employer’s imagination took over. “I believe this young woman would be a great example to others of her age, that they might see how she has been humbled.”
The man’s brow lowered over stern eyes. “Or she could rally them together in pity. I am sorry, Gaspar. My decision has been made. Besides, we must not allow the seeds of that red hair to perpetuate.”
Swallow. He needed to swallow. How could he argue if his words could not pass the ball of rage in his throat?
“It is a pity your slave did not bring the key. We could have disposed of this problem today. But I suppose, since she is the daughter of a friend, you would not wish to execute her yourself. I shall send another.” And with that, the old man turned for the door.
Gaspar knew the man would not respond well to begging, but he had little choice. He needed time if he was going to get Isobelle away from the island before this executioner arrived.
“Your Beatitude, I would ask a favor.”
The man turned back with an impatient grunt. “A favor, Gaspar? When this private exorcism has cost you any favors you might have earned from me?”
“Yes, Patriarch, for I am certain there will be an opportunity, soon, to earn another. I would ask this favor before it is earned.”
The man took a deep breath and expelled it in exasperation. “What is this favor?”
It required all Gaspar’s years of discipline to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I would ask that you allow me a sennight to help the child prepare to meet God.”
The patriarch shook his head. “She will not meet God, Gaspar, without a body. She must burn after she is dead.”
“No, sir,” he said calmly. “She must not.” Oh, but he was in such danger to speak to the man so. “As certain as you are that she is a witch, I am just as certain she is not. Therefore, I beg you, do not put either of our salvations in jeopardy by robbing this woman of the chance to see God. You do believe in the salvation of the souls of men, and therefore women…”
The man’s nostrils flared and he lowered his chin. “You are no priest, Gaspar. Do not presume to discuss salvation with me.” His narrowed eyes told Gaspar he would never again have the patriarch’s trust. His time in Venice would not last. That was, if he stayed…
And suddenly, he was grateful to the blind old man for opening the gate of Venice and allowing him to leave. His penance was over. It was time to vacate this prison, and he would not look back.
“Beheaded then.” The old man narrowed his eyes to mere slits, then he shuffled back to the gate. Gaspar’s heart jumped when the patriarch grabbed the bars at each edge and shook them. They made no sound. The lock held as tight as if it had been melted into place. He worked his way around the enclosure, shaking and testing each joint. He even lifted his robes, climbed onto the bench and pulled at the bit of screening hanging from the ceiling, but the rings to which it was attached were thick and deeply embedded in the wood beams. He then pushed and pulled at them, noting the space between the screen above and the one below.
Gaspar worried the man might find a weakness in the iron that would allow them to remove Isobelle, so she might be murdered immediately. But in each test, the screen held, and he blessed the artisans he’d so recently been cursing. Their work was not nearly as loose as their tongues. Praise be.
Finally, the patriarch ceased his testing and allowed his guards to help him off the bench.
“If the only key is in the city, I will take your man and collect it. Then I shall return with an executioner…in five days. I would return tomorrow, but I must preside over a few more Regatta celebrations in spite of that fool that calls himself the King of Napoli. Five days, Gaspar. I trust you will both be prepared for her to part this world.”
“Yes, Your Beatitude. And I thank you for your…” He could not use the wordsmercy, wisdom,norgenerosity.“Thank you for your patience.”
The old man glared, but eventually nodded and left the room.
Gaspar’s heart jumped again when he remembered the patriarch was determined to collect the key from Icarus, when the key was currently in Gaspar’s pocket!
He turned back to the cell and found Isobelle’s eyes wide with worry. Perhaps she had understood enough. But there was no time to explain. He dug in his pocket, fumbled with the string, but finally wrapped his fingers around the key. Then he hurried to the door and listened. They were only halfway down.
He returned to the gate. “I will cut your binds in a moment, sweet Isobelle, but I must slip Icarus the key first.”
He slid the dangerous thing into the lock and turned it as slowly as possible. Thankfully, the mechanism turned silently. Again, he blessed the artisans. He swung the gate wide, then used the stool to block it open. He would not trust it to remain that way, and the patriarch had already proven the cell could not be compromised if the gate were locked.
“I will return before you finish your prayers.” He smiled and gave her a wink.
She rolled her eyes and returned his smile. It was forgiveness enough to lighten his heart. He needed only to remove the holy man from his island and he could return to her and hear her forgiveness from her own sweet lips.
The patriarch was sufficiently irritated to move twice as quickly back to his boat as he had when he’d arrived. Even so, it was not fast enough to ease Gaspar’s mind, but it was his turn to practice patience. He held the key behind him and felt Icarus take it from his fingers before hurrying to the large boat.
