It had been a very busy morning at the harbor in Melioria: the courier ship from Gibraltar had arrived with packets of newspapers and letters from England and America; there was the largeVenetian merchantman that had anchored just yesterday, but which had finished unloading its cargo by sunrise; and then there was the unexpected arrival of the Neapolitan customs officers.

The presence of the tax collectors from Napoli was aninfrequentoccurrence and when it happened, nothing seemed tochangeof the surface of life and activity in the island port. But underneath that calm charade of "business as usual" there was a level of tension that was onlydiscerniblein the way that the sailors and villagers were a bit too relaxed, their smiles a bit tighter, their causal songs and banter a bit louder and more cheerful than one was used to....but you had to be aresident, or aregular and particularly observant observerin order to perceive it.

Thecustomsofficers who served the Kng of Naples were neitherregularsnor particularly observant. Still, the Professore had thought it prudent to misdirect them after theirinitiallook around, to send them back off to themainland,chasing rumors of Corsican smugglers at work. As he and Achille the tavern keeper watched the officials in their cutter disappear around the northern point of the island, they smiled and waved...and Achille shot a knowing sideways glance at Don Aldo.

"Padrone, you are like the conjurer in a street show, catching the attention of the audience with one hand, while you make the cards disappear, or the rabbit to come out of your hat with the other..."

Don Aldo's expression did not change. "It is merely, more often then not, simply a matter letting people see what they expect to see. Come, let us go take a look at what sort of rabbit has come out of the hat."

They walked unhurriedly over to the old Fortress, which had its doors locked. This was somewhat unusual, in and ofitself, but the customs officials would not have known that. The Professore took a mammoth brass key from his waistcoat pocket and unlocked the stout oaken doors. Inside,in thedim coolnessof thefortification, was the cargo that had been delivered from the Veneitanship: three very large and obviously new long 24-pounder cannon barrels, laid out neatly onheavybeams to keep them up off the floor. The bronze of the pieces was smooth and polished, and shone dully in the dim light that filtered down from the upper embrasures. Though unmarked, the tubes were clearly of venetian design and manufacture, and they were immense, utterly dwarfing the two old six-pounder barrels that lay nearby.

Achille muttered something marginally profane, indicating the degree to which he was impressed by the newly delivered artillery.

"So this is what was offloaded from the Venetian?" he asked.

Don Aldo nodded. "Si. They were listed on the cargo manifest as "bronze statues."

"Ah, I see. Very clever. But it has only been a little over a week since the Conte promised you the delivery of these 'statues'...how could he have got them made and here so quickly from the foundry in Venezia?"

"I think he didn't," replied the Professore. I suspect these were in transit for another destination, and the Conte Foscari had them re-routed to be delivered here instead. I imagine the original intended buyer is simply being given some kind of plausible explanation -- an accident or customs troubles -- that will delay the arrival of the delivery. In fact, this is only half of the battery of six guns I requested from the Conte. It is likely the other three will take much longer."

"Achille looked thoughtful. "No one does something this extravagant just for the sheer joy of it, Professore...why do you suppose the Conte went to this extraordinary effort on your behalf?"

The Don smiled slightly and arched an eyebrow. "Probably a number of reasons...a good faith gesture...and a form of thanks for the service I provided to him in obtaining intelligence he required...and perhaps as an attempt to impress us..."

"Well, Padrone," laughed the tavern keeper, "if that was his intent, he certainly succeeded with Achille!"

The Professore smiled slightly and added in a quiet voice, "I will confess that I am impressed as well, my friend. Now go, find Miguel and tell him that we need to move these to the storage chamber under Templars' Hall tonight."

"Si, Padrone."

As Achille Giglio was leaving, Don Alphonzo, the assistente custode of the accademia, came in. Without even glancing at the huge artillery barrels on the floor, he nodded his head in a terse gesture of respect to Don Aldo, who responded with a slighter, even more subtle version of the same nod.

"Buongiorno, Professore," announced the older man.

Buongiorno, Assistente Custode," responded Don Aldo. "Was there something of interest in the mails from the Gibraltar courier ship?

"Si, Professore, " the old man replied. "A few messages for you from various members of the Company -- I have locked them in your desk. And there were some letters for la Baronessa from the Americas. From her brother who lives and trades among the natives I suspect. As is customary, I have sent them to be placed unopened on the desk in her rooms at the Villa. And one letter also has come for the young Signor Gandt, from his family in England, as far as I can determine. They obviously still labor under the misapprehension that the young man is present here on the island and not up north in the Serene Republic."

"Si, my good Assistene Custode, I believe that to be the case."

"Shall I proceed in the usual manner, Professore?"

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