The Borgia Betrayal: A Novel by Sara Poole Read Free Book Online Page A

same.
    “If they do, we will hear from them again soon,” Rocco said. His face was grim as the full weight of the problem we confronted sank into him. “You could have been killed.”
    Along with Sofia, Luigi, Guillaume, and the rest, but it was of me he thought and for that I admit to being pleased. Even so, I replied bluntly. “I would have been fortunate to be killed rather than captured and subjected to questioning. But enough of that. Someone betrayed us; there is no other explanation. We must find out who was behind the attack.”
    Rocco’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he nodded. “Guillaume may be able to help. He should be able to learn if the Inquisitors are involved.”
    I am no coward but the thought of confronting the black-robed arbiters of souls made me shudder. Although we had been spared—thus far—the crazed spectacle of heresy-hunting that had become the fashion in Spain, here, as there, the Dominican Order was entrusted with making what are so blandly called “inquiries” into suspected lapses of faith. They delved anywhere they chose and were free to use torture as a means of getting at what they considered to be truth. I had already helped to foil a plot involving the Grand Inquisitor of Spain, the loathsome Tomás de Torquemada, who sought to provoke an anti-Jewish outbreak in Rome at the time of the papal election the previous year. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that he knew of my involvement and might look to his brethren to revenge him. But he was far from alone in having cause to strike against those seen as challenging the power of Holy Mother Church.
    “If it was God’s Hounds,” I said, “someone has unleashed them.”
    “Borgia?”
    “Hardly, for he despises them. Il Papa is not above using those he loathes for his own ends, but he considers the Inquisitors to be a dangerous element in need of restraining. I don’t think he would do anything to encourage them.”
    “Then who?” Rocco asked. He appeared about to answer his own question when I interjected.
    “We were examining a copy of the map La Cosa made. Perhaps someone knew it would be there and seeks to suppress what it shows. Someone who is interested in hiding evidence that Colombo really did not discover the Indies. And then we should not overlook the possibility that some other of us in attendance might have enemies. Luigi, for instance; he has risen very far, very fast. Such men frequently sow ill will behind them.”
    If you suspect that I interrupted Rocco because I did not want to hear what I was certain he would say, you have the right of it. But even I knew that the reality of our situation could not be long ignored.
    He reached over and covered my hands with his. “No possibility should be overlooked. I know it is hard for you to speak of him, Francesca, but if Morozzi still lives—”
    “He does,” I said. “To my shame.” In Rocco’s presence, I had even more reason to regret my failure to kill Morozzi. The previous year, the mad priest had come terrifyingly close to killing Nando. That I had managed to save the child’s life did not absolve me of responsibility for bringing such danger near to him.
    “If it is Morozzi,” Rocco said, “or the Inquisitors or anyone else, is it likely that Borgia will know? More to the point, can you find out from him?”
    “I can try, but information is to Il Papa as gold is to other men. He may be willing to trade it for something else of value but he will never simply give it away.”
    Nando returned just then, curtailing our discussion. We spoke of far more pleasant things over wine, bread, and good cheese from the Piedmont. It was only after I left that I realized I had not thought to ask Rocco why he had missed the meeting at the villa.
    Nor had he offered any reason.

5
    After leaving Rocco’s, I returned briefly to my rooms, stopping on the way to purchase a small piece of cod for Minerva from a fish vendor in the Via dei Pescatori.