part, they are but poor men, cripples, beggars, the feeble-minded, and women, as is indeed common in these manifestations of heresy. But there
are among them also certain gentlemen of good family and rich merchants besides that have bad consciences or little sense, and that fear the devil more than they love God.
“And he told me privily that he had heard that certain among the Contarinis, the Participazios, the Dandolos, and the Zianis have in secret pledged allegiance to a grim fraternity, wherein are none of the poor or ignoble to be found.”’
Assefa glanced up from the book. Patrick’s question had just been answered.
‘ “This is a most private matter for them, and has nothing in it of public flagellation or display. That they meet in private and hold secret cabals is the sum of Master Trevisan’s knowledge, for of their rites and heretical dispositions he knows, or pretends to know, nothing.”’
Assefa looked up.
‘There’s a mark a couple of lines later, where Corradini quotes Brother Ubertino again. It’s an extract from his entry for the Wednesday following Corpus Christi, about a week after the bit we’ve just read.
“I received tidings yesterday through Father Domenico, who came to hear my confession, that my friend Umberto Trevisan was yesterday in secret condemned by the three Avvogadori, whereupon he was rowed out to the Canale Orfano, and there his hands were tied behind his back and weights of lead attached to each of his several limbs, to make the faster work of his drowning, as was then carried out. May our Lord have mercy on his soul and give him peace. I thought it prudent not to confess to Father Domenico the matters lately divulged to me by my friend, though this lie heavy on my soul. This last night I have spent in prayer for his deliverance out of purgatory, yet I do not rest easy, and shall not again, I think.”’
THIRTY-SIX
Neither Patrick nor Assefa said a word, yet their thoughts were as transparent to one another as though they had been spoken.
The second passage was an account in Corradini’s own words.
‘”I reckon it neither nice nor proper, howsoever my lord Pisani deem it, to speak in these pages of the peccadilloes of the Nobility or the dissolution of the Rich, lest the common rabble, emboldened by talk of lasciviousness in their Betters, and encouraged falsely by the wanton behaviour of some of them that rule them, foment discord in this most serene of Republics. And yet, such is the manner of this Age, wherein Nobility is become Baseness and Baseness Nobility, that of certain families I know not what else I may in truth relate.
‘”Witness the numbers resorting to Spaderra’s and Ancilloto’s, the less to drink Coffee, I think, than to murmur against the State; or the rakes that gather nightly in the Casino degli Spiriti and old Cornaro’s place, to play at Bassetto or at Spigolo for a heap of gold sequins or a lady’s favours; or the Ladies with their cicisbei, betaking themselves in masks and pomaded wigs to see the latest plays at the Fenice or the Malibran.” ‘
‘Can’t you skip a little, get to the bit that interests us?’
‘I suppose so. Let’s see ...’ His finger ran lightly down the page, he frowned, bit his lip, and at last found something.
‘Here we are: I think this is it. There’s a footnote that says the next few paragraphs were omitted from the first edition and have been reinstated by Battistella from Corradini’s autograph manuscript.
‘ “Your Honours, if any among you care to listen, let me unfold to you Secrets that will make your Blood run cold, for herein lies the heart of our corruption, that a Family of Jewes are become Lords in Venice, and some of our most ancient Lines fast arrived at the deepest of depravities.
“You know well that there are Masons in this City, devoted to secret Worships and abominable Doctrines. Many, I know, deem the Contarinis and Migliaus, the Rezzonicos and Dandolos to belong to that Fraternity. Indeed, there may be some, that are so inclined. But most, I think, hold to a different Allegiance.” ‘
Assefa paused.
‘This begins to sound familiar,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ Patrick whispered. ‘Don’t stop.’
“I have heard tell - I will not say from whence -that certain of them assemble in one another’s Houses late at night, when the eyes of Men are fast asleep or fixed on Cards in the Ridotto. They travel in hooded Gondolas with muted oars, and are seen by no one, not even their own Servantes, for it is said they row alone to their destinations. What Infamies they practise or what corrupted rites perform, neither reason may know nor piety guess at.
“But I venture they fancy themselves Hermeticists, or Adepts of the Cabala, followers of Paracelsus, or Illuminati of the Rosy Cross; or, indeed, that they be Deists all, and have imported their foul Mysteries from France, where all such Abominations have their Source. I have heard it asserted that there are among them hieratick ranks, such as Priests, Deacons, and Bishops, and that certain among them dedicate themselves as Monks or Nuns in perpetuity. And these, I understand, their Fellowes call The Dead, inasmuch as they are departed this World before ever their bodies are bereft of Life. I am told they take such as are dedicated to this existence to their Graves, albeit in a representation, and that there are living among us even now persons whose Tombs we pass daily in our common Churches.”’
Patrick turned pale. He glanced at Assefa in horror. It was as though a fist of ice had taken his stomach and was tightening its inexorable grip.
“I have even heard it whispered - I will not say by whom - that they emulate the Jewes in this that, on occasion, they will steal a Christian Childe or purchase a Babe from Romanies, to take from it the Heart, that they may make of it a sacrifice. Though I pray this latter report but idle gossip.” ‘
Assefa paused. He noticed how pale Patrick had become.
‘Are you all right, Patrick?’
Patrick closed his eyes, trying to blot out the image that had formed in his mind, of a naked child, his heart ripped out, lying on a table in an Irish holiday cottage, while black crows hopped sightlessly through the sullen room. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Assefa watching him, concerned.
‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Please, go on.’
Assefa began to read again.
“It is said - though I cannot vouch for it - that on occasion the Illuminati among them repair to an Island in the Lagoon, where a ruined Church is made a sort of Oratory for their Mass. But where this Island lies, or which among so many Churches now abandoned may be their Temple, I am unable to relate, having heard this by report only. Yet one that claimed to have certain knowledge of these matters, albeit he would divulge little enough of them, admonished me
to look to the Word of God for sure counsel, and furnished me with Verses that he said would reveal all to the discerning eye.
“Yet these seven years have I made nothing of them, though I own that the first of them is taken from the prophet Ezekiel: ‘Qui oculos habent ad videndum et non vident: which have eyes to see, and see not’. Yet, for the delectation of your Lordships and maybe the Profit of any that have sharper eyes than mine, I set them down here as a Curiosity:
‘ “Abscondita est ab oculis omnium viventium (Job 28:31); Ad inferna descendunt (Job 21:13); Atque abysso subjacente (Deut. 33:13); Sumentes igitur lapidem, posuerunt subter eum (Ex. 17:12); En lapis iste erit vobis in testimonium (Josh. 24:27); Quis revolvet nobis lapidem ab ostio monumenti? (Marc. 16:3); Super lapidem unum septem oculi sunt (Zech. 3:9).”’
Assefa sighed and looked up.
‘That’s it,’ he said.
‘Are you sure? There’s nothing more?’ Patrick felt as though all his strength had drained away.
The priest shook his head.
‘Nothing,’ he answered. ‘It’s the end of the section.’
He closed the book and set it on one side. Outside, a factory hooter tore rasp-like through the oily slumber of early evening. Assefa and Patrick were sleepers, awakened suddenly to the harshness of day, yet not quite able to dispel the morbid fancies they have just been witnesses to in sleep.
THIRTY-SEVEN
