The Vault of Bones by Pip Vaughan-Hughes Read Free Book Online

table. The market was busy, although here the crowds were local folk, women buying fruit and all the spiky and leafy vegetables the Romans love so well. I bought some sausages and had turned to leave when I heard a woman cry out behind me in anger. There was nothing unusual about that, except that the voice was English -I could have sworn it was English, and London at that, but when it came again the words were Italian, in some dialect I did not know. There she was: a slender figure with a cascade of yellow hair, over on the other side of the square. Curious despite myself, I began to wander towards her. She was standing, hands on hips, facing a thickset man in gaudy silk clothes. As I watched, the woman shook her head defiantly. Then, so quick I barely saw it, the man's hand darted out and caught the woman a hard blow on the side of her face. She fell as if hamstrung, and lay for a moment among the feet of the marketgoers, all shuffling now to get out of her way, or to get a closer look. She rolled over slowly and got on to all fours, head hanging; her hair falling about her face like a veil and trailing on the dusty cobblestones.
    Her man looked down upon her. He had a crudely handsome face, somewhat florid - from too much wine, perhaps - and freshly shaved, for he had an oily gleam about the chops. His eyes were narrow and his eyebrows bristled above them like battlements. His nose had once been broken and his mouth had a proud downward curve at its corners; and his thick, curly brown hair was fashionably long. He was obviously a nobleman or a rich banker, judging by his clothes, which were the finest, no doubt, that could be bought in Venice - for by their cut I took him for a Venetian, and he was certainly as noticeable here as a pheasant amongst pigeons. And yet he had the look of a brawler, and it was not just his flattened nose that said this, but the loosely coiled way he held himself. He gave off an intelligent yet brutal menace, scanning the crowd as if daring someone to challenge him. Then he turned and stalked off.
    The girl knelt, and pushed the hair away from her face. It was flushed and there was an angry red patch, already blueing, around one eye. Her nose was running and she wiped it, uncaring, with a sleeve. I shoved past two leering boys and was about to offer her my hand when she stood up and began to brush half-heartedly at her sullied clothes. I drew back, not wishing to embarrass her further, and the crowd began to drift away, pretending it had seen nothing, feigning no interest in the disputes of yet more mad foreigners. The girl - she was no older than me, I saw, swayed a little, then gathered herself and looked around. Her eyes were very blue, the colour of forget-me-nots, and one of them stood out, blazing from a purple halo of bruised flesh. She had a sharp nose, which she wiped again, and a wide mouth, twisting as if she were about to cry. But she did not, and with a defiant shake of her head she put her nose in the air and flounced off between the stalls and out of my sight. She plainly had not needed my help. She had been beautiful, though - no, not beautiful, but sensual. Reflecting that I had no doubt avoided making a fool of myself, I left the market, and by the time I had reached the Palazzo Frangipani I had forgotten all about the Venetian lord and his wench.

    Chapter Three

    A

    nd thus my life meandered for the next month or so - nay, I am being too casual with time. For although my days were lacking in both form and purpose I believe I noted the passing of every minute, for grief ordered my hours as strictly as any hour-glass and calendar, and I still spent my idle time meditating upon the stark text of Anna's death. Time passed in the world, and passed at another pace entirely within my head. And in Anna's tomb in heartless London, it did not pass at all. So it was not a month or so: it was exactly three weeks and two days, while the numberless bells of Rome were ringing out Sext, when