The Secret Dead by S. J. Parris Read Free Book Online Page B

water
with lemon juice that he used to scrub down his table and instruments, a
contrast to the pall of sickness and old bodies that hung over the infirmary.
Somewhere in here a tiny, half-formed child was suspended in alcohol, in a jar.
Donato’s child.
    “Suppose someone knew she came here last night, and comes in
search of her?”
    Gennaro’s brow lowered; he fixed me with such a penetrating
stare that I almost feared he could see my deception.
    “Why should you imagine that?”
    “Her clothes did not look like those of a whore. Perhaps,”
I added, as if I had just thought of it, “when you first found her, she was wearing
some jewelry that might identify her? If we knew who she was, we might be
better prepared to defend ourselves against any accusations.”
    He sighed, as if the conversation were keeping him from
something pressing. “The girl came here alone last night. Donato took her into
the lemon grove — they argued, and he grabbed her by the neck to frighten her
into silence, he said, for he feared she threatened to make a scene and rouse
the whole convent. She resisted, and he held her harder than he intended. Her
death was an accident.”
    “You know that is a lie,” I said, quietly. “He meant to
silence her all right. She must have told him she was with child.”
    He brought his hand down hard on the table. “The business
is done now, Bruno. There is no evidence that she was ever here.”
    “Did he ask you to help dispose of her?” My voice sounded
small and uncertain in the thick silence of the dispensary. “Did he know what
you were going to do?” With every question, I was unpicking the fine thread of
trust that existed between me and Gennaro, but I could not stop myself. I
wanted the truth. He had brought me into that room with her corpse last night;
I felt it was the least he owed me. A sigh rattled through him, and he leaned
back against the workbench as if he needed support.
    “Donato came to me in a blind panic last night, shaking all
over. He told me what I just told you — that this young woman had come to the
gate, demanding to talk to him. He had taken her into the lemon grove, away
from prying eyes, and they had argued, he grabbed her by the throat, she fell
to the ground. He claimed he thought she had merely passed out — he wanted me
to go with him to see if I could revive her.”
    I made a scornful noise. “He must have known she was dead.”
    “Well, he was in no doubt as soon as I saw her. He was on
the verge of hysteria — he was begging for my help. She could not be discovered
inside the walls, obviously. Our only option was to move the body as far from
San Domenico as possible before anyone noticed her missing.”
    “But you decided to cut her up first.”
    His eyes slid coldly over me. “It was not my first
intention — though I knew it would greatly lessen any chance of the convent
being implicated if her body were made unrecognizable. It was only when he
mentioned that they had argued over her threat of a paternity suit …” He
trailed off, tracing one finger along the grain of the table’s surface.
    “You saw an opportunity that some of the leading anatomists
in Europe would sell their own souls for.” I thought of the embryo, silent and
transparent in its jar.
    That cold sheen in his eyes intensified; he pointed a
finger toward me. “Do not be so quick to judge, Giordano Bruno. The advance of
knowledge demands a certain ruthlessness. It is a quality I do not doubt you
possess yourself, though you have not yet fully discovered it. I told Donato that
if he would help me move the body to the storeroom, I would see to it that she was
not found anywhere near San Domenico. He was greatly relieved, I think, to have
shifted the problem on to someone else’s shoulders.”
    I said nothing, but I could not look at him. Gennaro folded
his arms across his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was kinder.
    “The only accusations that can harm us now are coming