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Achille had been having a splendid time in the Sinti camp.

To be honest, as much as he respected and liked the Padrone, it was nice to not be on some errand or other for him. The Padrone was a humane and decent guy, but you know, sometimes he became so caught up in what he was doing ransoming some poor soul from the Barbary Corsairs, smuggling some stray member of the Company away from hostile authorities, whatever -- that he seemed to forget that the people who worked for him actually had lives of their own. Yes, if need be, Achille would go to the ends of the earth and fight the very demons of hell if il Professore asked him tobut it certainly was pleasant having a little break now and then. And it didnt hurt being away from Lizabetta either. The way she scolded and harangued him, youd think she was married to Achille, rather than working for him. Madona Mia! That girl has a tongue like a rapier. May the Holy Saints preserve any poor fellow who does marry her someday!

So Achille had to admit it was nice sitting around in the Sinti camp here in the mountains and playing music while la Contessa and Devi sorted out whatever it was they were sorting out. Achille and the musicians among the Sinti men had become great friends. They had been teaching him many of their songs, and he had been showing them a lot of Boccherini and Vivaldi

As the players finished the Sinti love song they had been wending their way through, Achille looked at the one who was called Samru, who in turn looked at his brother Jakob. Samru was the man who had originally loaned Achille a guitar on that first night that he and Devi had been in the camp. Samru was the outgoing one: Jakob played violinhe didnt talk much. But he could play that violin like nobodys business!

Jakob shrugged, and Samru, grinning, began slowly and softly playing some familiar chords. Achille smiled as he and Jakob started playing along.

La Follia! shouted their cousin Micaela, as she dug out her castanets from a pouch by the log she was sitting on. Achilles smile broadened into a grin that matched Samrus. Almost every country, every people had some version of La Follia .as did different composers, from Handel, to Vivialdi. Achille had played the Vivialdi and Corelli versions for the brothers and they had gotten some new ideas that they had meshed into their own versions of the ancient melody. Now the growing group around the fire worked through one variation after another: first low and gentle, then grand and statelyeventually picking up speed, and adding more and more embellishments in what to Achilles ear sounded like a Spanish tradition, music that spilled into the night with a glorious ferocityand an edge of painthe pain that you only understand if you have lived life fully and well, and which only musicians and poets seem to be able to truly express.

Micaela was now up and dancing, as her castanets clattered in precise staccato bursts, perfectly matched along with the swelling chords as they accelerated

Suddenly, as if by unspoken command, they all dropped back into a slow and majestic tempo, for one last repetition of the themethey were done with the songand they were done in a larger sense as well. As silence fell again and all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, Achille slowly rose and walked over to Samru. He handed the guitar back to the Sinti man.

Mille grazie.

Samru simply nodded. He had not regretted loaning an instrument to this Gadjo from the south, this man whose fingers could make a guitar sing with such complexity, such fire.

Then he sighed.

Time you must leave soon, eh?

Achille looked thoughtful for a moment, and then glanced back at Devi.

Yes, my friend. It is time. There is work to be done in Venezia.

The week that Devi and Achille spent at the Sinti camp in the mountains had passed very quickly. Now there they were again, once more gathered around the fire

Yes, only a week had passed, but in some ways it actually seemed like they had been in the Sinti camp forever, as if Devi and Elena had never left to go to Venezia, back when they were girls. There was an easy familiarity to being in the campthe pace of life, the sights, and smellsand the sounds, especially the music. At the same time, there was something different about the music being played in camp by the end of the week.Devi knew it was because of Achille: it was a little surprising how quickly he had been accepted into the group of musicians within the clan, and had picked up a good bit of their music and their way of playingbut he had also introduced an element ofsomething else.

The music in the camp had a new complexity and richness to it. It still had the passion and flair of her people, but there were new melodies, new patternspieces that Achilles playing had added to the mixture. Now it was evening, and once again the clans musicians had gathered around the fire with their new friend, the Gadjo from the south. Others were drawn there as well, including Devi.and on the other side of the circle of light made by the fire, Elena.

In an attempt not to look at the back of Achilles head, while he strummed his guitar, Devi stared into the fire. The fire held no answers as it sometimes did. Nor did the flickering fames calm her.

Devi had never felt like this, and found herself flushing as she caught her eyes straying once more towards Achille..

Devi had always known she was pretty. She knew she wasnt beautiful like her mother had been, but she knew she had that Something that made men stare at her with expressions of gormless stupidity. But not this man, not Achille! He had shown her the upmost courtesy, but nothing more. He had not looked at her!

She picked up a stick and poked the fire, fixing her eyes on the flames.

For the first time in her life she felt confused, and that was most unusual for her. Devi never felt confused. Just for once she felt a need to confide and ask advice. But whom could she turn to? Her mother had died giving birth to her, and she had no sisters. Devi gazed at Elena, sulking on the other side of the fire. Elena was the closest thing she had to a sister, but obviously it was no use asking her advice, she was far too angry. Anyway Elena had not seemed at all affected by Achille. She had barely glanced at him when he delivered the message from the Conte.

Devi considered confiding her feelings in Nonna Agostina , who had brought her and her six brothers up after the death of their mother, but she knew Nonna would disapprove.

Nonna had her own agenda. She wanted Devi to marry a clan member, one of her many cousins, and to settle down and have children, and stop travelling around with Elena, pretending to be her maid. Nonna disapproved of this. She felt it was demeaning given Devis position in the clan. The Clan meant everything to Nonna, and Achille wasnt Clan.

Anyway Achille wasnt looking at her but seemed totally lost in his music.

Devi glanced again at Elena, and thought how their lives had been intertwined since they had first met as little girls, when the Conte had first brought Elena to the Clan for safety. At first Elena hadnt even been able to speak Italian, but she had quickly learnt as the girls became inseparable friends. To Devi, Elena had become the sister she didnt have, and god knows she had plenty of brothers.

Almost a year had passed before the Conte had returned to fetch Elena, and Devi had begged to be allowed to go with her. The Conte had promised her father that she would receive the same education as Elena, and to her delight her father had agreed, thinking it would be beneficial for his daughter to see the world beyond their mountain home, and everyone knew that Venice was the World.

And Venice had not disappointed her! She had been dazzled as they arrived at dusk with all the lights making the city shimmer in the water like a city of jewels.

The same cannot be said about the convent!!!

They had both loathed the convent. The Nuns, the rules, the endless prayers and their hypocrisy!

They had quickly found ways to escape their supervision, and had spent many an afternoon, when the Nuns were too busy preparing for the evenings entertainments, roaming the Calle and exploring the city. Elena knew no more about Venice than she did, so it had been an adventure of discovery for both of them.

Most of the time they got away with their outings, but sometimes they were caught and then they would be punished. Elena would have to pray on her knees for hours. She was, after all, a noblemans daughter, so the Nuns wouldnt beat her. The Nuns had no such scruples about Devi and were determined to beat the wilfulness out of her, which of course had not worked! Devi grinned to herself as she poked the fire with her stick.

Several years had passed in this way, and along the way both of them had even absorbed some education, but eventually as they neared womanhood, Elena had been recalled to her family home, and of course Devi went with her. They were collected by servants and brought to the Malcontenta, where they were presented to Elenas paternal grandmother, Donna Elizabetta.

Even Devi had felt subdued in the presence of this Signora, re-splendid and elegant in her afternoon gown, glittering with jewels. And she had been cross, very cross indeed! The Nuns had been very thorough in their reports.

Donna Elizabetta had decided that Elena should go to the French court, at Versailles, and serve as a lady-in-waiting, under the supervision of the Contesse de Noailles, an old friend of hers. She would live in the dormitory with the other young daughters of the nobility, and Devi would go with her as her personal maid. The rest of the interview was loaded with threats of what would happen to them if they disgraced themselves in any way, but neither of them had listened beyong the word Versailles!!!!

Versailles! All the girls at the convent talked of this magical place, and now they were going to be part of it!

So, filled with excitement and dreams they had driven off in the Contes carriage.

How disappointed they had both been!!!!

Once the initial magnificence of the Palace and its grounds had worn off, they had found court life dull and difficult.

Elena was just an unknown Venetian Contessa, with looks too dark to be fashionable and far too young to attend any important functions. As for Devi, the French servants had despised her for her origins. Well the girls had. With the boys it had been a different matter. It was at Versailles that Devi had become fully aware that she had that certain something. Every young male in service and several young noblemen had tried in vain to court her favours, bringing her sweetmeats, posies and all manners of gifts. She had accepted their offerings, but none had impressed her beyond amusement.

It was Elena who had first suggested they should sneak out and go to Paris. They could get a ride at dawn and back again by dusk with the laundry carts. No one would miss them, and if they did, they wouldnt care. So, dressed as serving girls, they had gone. What an adventure they had had! They had walked the streets, eating from the food stalls, and absorbing the atmosphere of Paris. The dirt and the poverty, the grand Hotels of the nobility, the fancy monogramed carriages. The air had been electric with discontent and resentment, with energy and life.

They had repeated their outings several times before Elena had spoilt things by falling in love with some English, revolutionary poet. He was supposed to be a student at the Sorbonne University, but seemed intent on spending his allowance printing pamphlets satirising the young Queen.

Of course they had been discovered, and Devi had been blamed as a bad influence. Elena was packed off to the Swedish court at Drottingholm, considered by the Conte to be less racy than Versailles, and she had been sent back to the mountains, to drag her heels under the watchful eye of Nonna.

After some years Elena had returned to Venice, and Devi had been allowed to join her, but it had been a different Elena to the friend she had known. Elena had become a restless soul, busying herself with the affairs of the estate, and her obsession with organising apprenticeships for the Orphans of Venice. Something had happened in Sweden to change Elena, but she wasnt telling anyone, not even Devi. Elena still travelled. On Family business she said, She didnt often take Devi with her but at least Devi didnt have to return to the mountains and Nonnas endless attempts at matchmaking. When Elena went on one of her trips, she could drag her heels at one of the Foscari houses.

So here they were. All because Elena couldnt resist picking up lame ducks, like that Mercury. It was unfortunate he had been beaten up, but he had survived and he probably deserved it for other reasons, so what was the problem? There was no reason for Elena to feel so responsible. It had been obvious from the start that Signor Gandt was on the make. Devi couldnt understand why Elena couldnt see what an opportunist he was.

On the morrow she would travel with Achille back to Venice, to see what was happening and gather information, and Elena would stay here. Devi stole a glance at Achille, and wondered if she should ask him what time he wanted to leave, even though she already knew the answer. It would be an excuse to make him talk to her and look at her. She poked the fire angrily and decided not to ask.

Jeanne-Christine was born as the illegitimate daughter of the Abbe Terray and a peasant woman living in the south of France. Unfortunately, like many impoverished women did in these times due to the high poverty, Jeanne-Christine was sent to Paris as a baby *with the hope* that someone would be able to take care of her. Due to expensive wars (such as the Seven Year's war) and bad harvests, many women were not able to take care of their babies. Taken into one of the many hospices in Paris, a few nuns took her under their care. This was really not so uncommon, as by 1772 it was noted that 10,634 children had to be lodged, nourished and educated there by the nuns in Paris. Jeanne-Christine had a fairly happy youth, although she always had the feeling as if she did not really belong. In fact, she felt as if she deserved something more, as if she had a bigger destiny in life. Something the nuns in Paris could not offer her. In order to survive, one would need money and status. In a desperateattempt to escape her faith and the strict nuns, Jeanne-Christine knocked on the Honfleur residence in Paris at age 6, where they took her in as a part of their family.

Soon Jeanne-Christine got a job at Versailles as a maid, where she felt bitter about the class system and the manner by which she was treated. It was also at Versailles where she was reunited with her biological father, the Abbe Terray, who believed himself to a have a good ally in this ambitious bastard. Jeanne-Christine would look with sadness as the noble women would walk by in their gorgeous gowns, while she was rubbing the floor clean merely because of the circumstances in which she was born. Angry with how she was treated by nobles, and particularly by Madame Adelaide, she wanted revenge. She wanted to scare one of the horses of Madame Adelaide, but it unfortunately turned out that the carriage which she believed to be Madame Adelaide's turned out to be Madame Victoire's. As the carriage crashed against the castle walls while a ball was going on nearby, Jeanne-Christine could not help but watch as blood dripped out of the carriage. For the first time in her life, Jeanne-Christine realized she couldhave a power over those whom often regarded her as irrelevant and inferior.

Despite of what happened, life went on as normal. Aside from the confrontations with the Abbe de Luynes now and then, everything was going well for her. Many women of her age would have been happy with the circumstances in which she lived. Jeanne received financial support from the Abbe Terray and her family. Nonetheless, a woman such as Jeanne-Christine wanted more in life. She wanted not only materialistic things, but she secretly also craved love. She sought male attention, but she had never been a very lovable woman. It was that controlling, self-dependent, narcissistic part of her personality that never let her be able to love, nor to be loved. So aside from the occasional meaningless intimacy, Jeanne never experienced true love until she thought she had found love with the Prince d'Angoumois, with whom she also shared the bed. However, his family, Saint-Cyr, had other plans for him, namely to marry him of to a member of the house of Gramont, the Mlle de Bidache.

Jeanne-Christine helped the Mademoiselle de Bidache get ready for her big wedding day. She helped her get into her wedding dress, styled her hair and applied her rouge. But then, as she looked upon the painting of the Prince dAngoumois, she felt wronged. Had he and Jeanne not spent the night together, had he not told her he loved her? Why is it, that purely because of the family name she carried, she could not marry him herself? Was she, an intelligent and beautiful woman, destined to be an maid forever, while this girl was to be a princesse? In a moment of bitterness and panic, Jeanne-Christine got a knife out of the pocket out of her dress, and coldly stabbed the Mademoiselle de Bidache. Before she realized it the entire room was covered in blood, and she ironically wrote love on the painting of the prince with blood. Jeanne-Christine ran to the chapel and shouted something horrible had happened, but none of them could have known that the maid ringing the alarm bell was the one who committed thehorrible crime.

Except for the Abbe de Luynes, nothing seemed to get in her way. Angry with him for once publicly humiliating her at audiences with the Dauphine and at a salon of Madame du Barry, she was desperate to take revenge. It seems that Jeanne-Christine could finally take her revenge on the Abbe de Luynes at the Nations Ball Masquerade. Dressed as a noblewoman hidden behind a mask, she seduced the Abbe de Luynes and made love to him. Although one might not necessarily see that as a revenge, the fact that he gave in to his weakness for earthly desires and exposed himself to her gave Jeanne her feeling of power and control back. A feeling she would so desperately seek. But that was not her only form of revenge that night. Not only did she seduce the Abbe de Luynes, she also attempted to poison the Duchesse de Bourbon of whom she greatly disliked. It was in these days that the Duchesse de Bourbon was said to be intimate with some Italian lady, and Jeanne-Christine wished to punish her and the other nobles for their corrupt lifestyle.

Jeanne-Christine got everything she wanted. She had the nobility scared of her, she had enough wealth through her family and father, but she still had the desire to get more out of life. Her father, who was part of the corrupt government of France, wished to overthrow Madame du Barry with one of his own many bastard daughters. But in order to do so, she had to be a noble first and be presented to the court. In order to do this, the Comte dArtois was the perfect tool, as he, despite being married, would not disappoint a woman throwing herself at him. He and Jeanne-Christine had spent a few nights together, with the ultimate goal of her carrying his baby. When she was finally pregnant, she blackmailed him to use his influence in order to obtain her a husband--who turned out to be the unfortunate Marquis de Saint-Ceneri. The bundled influence of the Abbe Terray, Comte d'Artois and a dowry of 400,000 sous persuaded the Marquis into a marriage with this woman.

The only step left was her presentation at court. On April 26, 1774, she was to be formally presented to the court, but in the middle of her presentation, she was arrested for the crimes she had committed. Taken away and imprisoned, Jeanne-Christine had lost all control and power she worked so hard to obtain. But, knowing that she is a woman who does not let much stand in her way...what will the the future bring for this character? What do you think, knowing from the historic events that occur in the future?

Jeanne-Christine is not just a villain, and she is not a monster. She is not a bitch. Well, the latter is up for discussion I suppose. In many ways, Jeanne-Christine resembles how many people in the 18th century must have felt. Her ambitions and dreams were often blocked by her origins, but also by her sex. In these times women holding on to any sort of power were often feared and subjected to hatred. Think of the unpopular female regents such as Anne of Austria and Catherine de' Medici, or the war causedby a female ascending the imperial throne of the Holy Roman Empire. I have always wanted Jeanne-Christine not to come across as some murdering idiot, but as an ambitious young woman who, by no means, let anyone, her origins or her sex get in the way of achieving her dreams.

Progress on Regency Somerset.

We have a new Breakwater at Port Austen, and we have boats for people to sail.

Rumors have reached us that Mermaids may have move in to the Sea near the Port.

The Orangery has been rebuilt, and is now filled with Citrus and tropical plants and caf table sets. A wonderful place to get out of the wind and enjoy a cup of tea and good conversation.

A Few finishing touch of the Shops and we will soon have Merchants of fine clothing and furnishing. Over in Bath, work continues on the Royal Crescent and it looking Great.

As a rule, Mercury Gandt generally tried to avoid places like the one he was now entering. Heavy stone walls, an almost total lack of ornamentation, a sense of weight that settled upon you as soon as you passed through the iron-bound doors. It was evidently designed not only to keep people out, the structure was built to keep people in. Mercury would not have chosen to visit such a place...except, he had received a message to come. It had been written in the form of an invitation, but he thoroughly understood that he had no options in the matter.

He was led through grim hallways to a staircase that descended into a lower level, to an office that felt more like a tomb than a place to do ones work. As he entered the space he had been directed to, he found himself looking into the piercing eyes of a man whose every pore seemed to ooze unpleasantness, distrust...and control.

The man greeted him simply, Signore.

The man did not bother to rise. There was no hint of a bow, not even the slightest nod or tilt of the head.

Mercury replied very directly in return.

Signore... I received a message, by which, if I understand correctly, you have summoned me... my name is Gandt...

Yes, yes, I know, the man answered with almost a hint of impatience. I am gratified you could join me for a little conversation. Please seat yourself.

Mercury found himself slightly annoyed as he realized that involuntarily, out of habit, he had bowed to the man before taking the chair that faced the mans cheaply-made desk. The man sat in his chair behind the desk, and after staring at Mercury for a few moments as if deciding on a strategy, he asked a question that on the surface seemed polite, even friendly...but there was nothing of politeness or friendliness in the mans eyes.

You have been enjoying your stay in Venezia?"

Mercury was feeling a distinct sense of discomfort, but he decided he would play the game.

Yes, I am, Signore, he answered, though I wouldn't call my stay here a very lucky one, as I trust you undoubtedly already know.

The mans face finally lost some of its stony aspect as he smirked a bit.

Yes, of course. And as you can guess, I really do not care if you are enjoying yourself or not. It was merely an attempt at something representing friendly interaction before we get to business. He sighed in a slightly theatrical sort of way. I am told that I need to be more ..um...approachable.

Mercury smiled in return at what he supposed was meant to pass as humor. He also hoped that his smile might somewhat conceal the extent to which he already despised and loathed this fellow, who hadnt even yet bothered to introduce himself.

It almost seemed as if the man could read Mercury's mind as he continued.

Ah, and my manners need work as well. My name is Rinaldi....Arrigo Rinaldi. I am a close subordinate of Don Cristoforo....and I have asked you here for a very specific reason."

I imagine you have received my offer through Madamma Beatrice, Mercury began to reply, but he was cut off before he could finish.

Yes, answered Rinaldi, shrugging. It is of...some interest to us...although you would perhaps be surprised how many people approach us every day with some kind of... offer. Of these many propositions, only a few are actually worthy of our attention."

Mercury crossed his legs and shifted his weight trying to get a little more comfortable in the chair before he replied.

In my case, said Mercury, I have been friendly with the Contessa Foscari for the past few months, and having called upon her regularly here in Venezia, I am somewhat familiar with the circumstances and activities of the Foscaris...

Rinaldi nodded. Yes, we know...and that, as I said, is of some interest to us...

His face suddenly turned into a mask of deadly seriousness.

Are you aware of the Foscaris having any involvement with the Freemasons? he asked.

Mercury was a bit dumbstruck. He really hadnt expected expected a question like this so early in the discussion.

"Of course not. How could I?"

Rinaldi frowned and began to speak in a soft, yet slightly menacing way.

You have, as you said, some access to the household of that family. We know that the Conte Foscari is a member of some subversive secret group...perhaps the Freemasons, perhaps something much worse. But Don Cristoforo, he does not like those who keep secrets...after all, when one is hiding something..it is usually for a reason, no?

As Rinaldi spoke, Mercury noted that his voice was calm, but his fist was clenched...the knuckles actually going white.

Mercury looked back at the man for a second and then shook his head.

Rinaldi looked thoughtful for a moment and went on. Very well. I ask only in hope that we can save ourselves some work...do you know where the Conte is at present?

Again Mercury shook his head. "Actually I never met the Conte... it was my intention to do so, when I came to Venezia, but he had left the city before we arrived. I only met the senior Conte, sua eccelenza Francesco Foscari... and of course, the Contessa's household"

Rinaldi nodded, but Mercury could tell that he was not telling this man anything he did not already know.

And the Contessa, do you know where she is? asked Rinaldi.

Mercury sighed heavily. No... I assure you, I would gladly share this information with you if I could"

She has ...not been a good friend to you has she? Rinaldi commented drily.

Mercury paused for a moment, wondering exactly what this man and his associates knew and what they didn't. Finally, he responded, "It's my concern, Signore, to judge my friends. Sadly, the Contessa doesn't seem to be among them."

"Yes, I understand, replied Rinaldi. And if you will forgive me for commenting anyway, I can tell you this is not surprising. People of her class are accustomed to only thinking about their own needs and desires. They do not think of those around them, and their selfishness extends to their disregard for the well-being of the Republic.

Mercury was surprised at the edge of anger that had crept into the mans voice, but he said nothing as Rinaldi continued.

But...it is clear that even though you would give us her location if you could...at present you cannot do so?"

No, I'm very sorry, Signore, I can't, answered Mercury, with just a hint of dejection in his tone.

Arrigo Rinaldi coughed, and sat looking at Mercury for what seemed like an eternity to the Englishman. Mercury had a sense that the man was deciding how to proceed.

Finally the man behind desk seemed to have made up his mind.

Very well...

After another pause, Rinaldi spoke again, but his tone changed. becoming friendlier...almost jocular. "Have you ever watched children playing with dominoes?"

He had once again managed to catch Mercury by surprise. What a curious question, Signore...no, I haven't, answered the Englishman.

Rinaldi waved his hand in the air as he started his explanation, like a professor giving a lecture to a befuddled student. Well, you see, not knowing the rules for playing a proper game of dominoes, children simply set them up on end and push them over. If they line them up carefully and then push one, it knocks down another, then the next, then the next...

He looked at Mercury inquiringly to see if the inglese was comprehending this at all, before he went on.

The reason why we hoped to find the Contessa was to get to the Conte...if we can't knock down that domino, we must get the next one in line...and that most probably would be the Contessa's serving woman...do you know her? a sciattona called Devi?

Mercury was seeing where this was going. Yes, I met Devi at the Contessas palazzo - an unkind, suspicious creature - I would never trust her for a minute."

Ah then, if that is the case, replied Rinaldi, you will have no regrets about seeing if you can get information regarding her whereabouts...so that we can take her into custody and extract information from her about the contessa...so that we then will be able to get hold of her, which in turn will give us the means by which we will be able to have influence over the conte...and induce him to give us information about his associates and their subversive activities...and then everyone will be happy.

As he concluded this explanation, Rinaldi smiled in a way that was not at all attractive.

Mercury shrugged. Very well, I don't care whatever you do to her...but how can I help you to catch her? I don't know her whereabouts either - perhaps they are together somewhere in Italy, in one of the duchies of Italy - the Contessa has many royal friends among the Italian duchesses."

Well, my friend...that is up to you, answered Rinaldi, once again with a touch of impatience in his voice. Look here, you offered to help us accomplish our goals...you are an adaptable fellow...the likes of you would not still be alive if you werent...but if any of the people we want from the Foscari household is going to be here in the city, it will most likely be the servant woman. She is the logical target to be looking for, and we need to know when and where we can find her...so we need that information, and you should be able to find an opportunity to discover what we need to know. How you find a way to do that...if you can...I leave that up to your inventiveness...

Mercury sighed as he thought about Devi. "Very well, I have some ideas where to go to find her if she's in town.

Rinaldi nodded and began to spin a coin on his desk top as he continued, You have been to visit the old conte and his appallingly common wife, yes?

Ah, yes, said Mercury, smirking. I hoped he would tell me where the Contessa was."

Rinaldi shrugged. Not a bad idea...but if anyone in that household knew her location and circumstances, that greedy wretch Saturnine would have already sold us the information. He paused a moment and then went on. Perhaps you can use your connections there more productively than he has...you are better looking and younger than that decaying goat. Perhaps you can seduce the conte's wife, or something dreary like that... He grinned maliciously, Go...be inventive...if you have some fun along the way, we won't mind.

Mercury could not conceal the extent to which he found the suggestion distasteful, though not because of the lack of ethics inherent in the concept.

"Signore... please...I have no desire to end up dead, with a bullet through the heart, shot by the old Conte if he finds out I have dallied with his wife...you see, I'm not very successful in those kinds of endeavors. And honestly. If I were, I would know already where the Contessa Foscari is," he said in a voice tinged with more than a little regret and disappointment.

Rinaldi sighed again. Well, as long as we are playing at being honest here, I might as well admit that we really don't expect you to be able to find the Contessa's location....the members of that family have eluded far more experienced operatives than you clearly are...but would you like to know the real reason you have been invited here to talk to me?

You already told me - to catch Devi, or not? asked Mercury, just a bit perplexed.

The man behind the desk chuckled. Ha, if you do, that will makes us happy...and you'll get the appropriate thirty pieces of silver for it...but no...Devi is not why we are really interested in you, Signore.

The Englishman now realized that Rinaldi was toying with him, and was in fact enjoying the experience way too much for Mercurys tastes. He adjusted his coat cuffs, pretending he was getting bored with these games.

Rinaldi watched him for a moment and then decided it was time to lay the cards on the table.

No, Signor Gandt, our true interests in you are not related to that Devi creature, or the Contessa, or even the Conte. The simple fact is that we know that you have become involved with a certain French lady...and while in a general sense, this is no great accomplishment...after all, the French are a debauched and unprincipled people..especially among their upper classes...but this particular lady...she has some significant ..um...shall we say... connections ?"

Mercury Gandt looked up in genuine surprise and horror. "You can't mean it. Are you watching my apartment?" He felt his anger rising for the first time since he entered this godforsaken pile of stone. "How dare you...what, do you go about peeking into peoples bedrooms?"

Rinaldi laughed. Oh come now, Signore... The way he said the word carried an inflection that clearly indicated he didn't think Mercury deserved the title. You must keep in mind, this is Venezia. Everyone is watching each other here in Venezia...

"And so what? Mercury asked sarcastically, I assume you don't want to arrest me because of a night with a lady? Why is it your concern?"

Rinaldi shook his head. Of course not. If we did that, half the city would be locked up....probably more than half, actually. No, this is not about censuring you for anything. This is about fostering a situation which ultimately could be mutually beneficial for all those involved.

Mercury said nothing...he tried to compose himself so that he would give away no further information about the matter of the lady. The man behind the desk watched the englishman get control of himself, and then went on in a maddeningly matter-of-fact tone.

Signor Gandt, really...as a man who has experienced such limited success in your other enterprises...your gambling...your other attempts at relationships with the ladies...you should be proud to have succeeded at last in such an affair of the heart...this is something to take pride in....making an accommodation with a lady of that rank and ...beauty. And just as it is an accomplishment...it is also an opportunity.

Mercury found himself listening with interest, in spite of the outrageous nature of the mans words.

The corners of Rinaldis mouth snaked upwards, forming a nasty little smile. He could tell he had the attention of the inglese . So...here is what we want...really...when it is time to go with this lady back to France...as we trust you will, so long as you don't somehow manage to piss away this opportunity like you have most other things in your life...we want you to keep your eyes and ears open...

Mercury Gandt wanted to make sure he absolutely understood what was being asked of him. You mean, I should leave Venezia and go with her to France? Why?

Because if you go with her, Rinaldi answered calmly, you will be close to the French court...to important families and personages...but because of your relative lack of position and importance, you can be like the proverbial fly on the wall. Look, surely you understand that the French have no love for the Serene Republic, and would be thrilled to take away what remains of our commercial prominence...we have long been competition for them...and why do you think we Venetian so dislike Frenchmen? Just because of their terrible taste in music and awful cooking? No, they would bring an end to us if they could...and if you are in a situation where you might get useful intelligence for us...indications of what the Goddamn French might be up to....we could help you cover some of your expenses...

Mercury held up his hand to stop the man for a minute. Wait... so you mean, I would be a spy for Venezia in France? Am I correct it's not really Madame de...the lady in question, who you are interested in, right? Do you think and imply that I have a chance to meet higher persons than her though this affair?

Rinaldi sighed. Do not be such a tiresome fellow, Signor Gandt...no, we have no interest in her..she is merely your ticket into the places where you might overhear something useful...

He paused for effect, looked Mercury square in the eye, and then went on, speaking in a low and decidedly menacing voice. Of course...if you refuse to be of help to us in this matter, then the lady does become of interest to us...and the information we have about her activities...with you...might become something that we would find advantageous to share with someone else...others who might not be happy to know that she has taken up with a common and impecunious young englishman...a failed gambler, a mediocre swordsman...I should guess that your chances for survival would be close to nil, should we find it necessary to take our goods to market, as it were.

To his credit, Mercury Gandt blushed with shame as he reflected upon the nature of the mess he had gotten into, and that to come out of it in one piece, he would need to use the vicomtesse as he had been used by others. He did not like the idea of having to betray her trust, but he struggled with the reality he faced, balancing the grim facts against what remained of his better nature and the shreds of ideals that still fluttered somewhere, buried away deep inside him.

Then he came to terms with the situation. Not only was taking Rinaldis offer necessary in order to protect himself -- and the lady too, for that matter -- but it also had the potential to turn out to be a very good bargain. Yes...a very tempting bargain, even though it was a bargain dressed up in threats...very serious threats to the Vicomtesse's reputation.

Mercury realized he knew what he had to do. He was a gambler, after all: he understood very well how life worked. You did the best you could with the cards you were dealt. After a moment, he smiled pleasantly at Rinaldi.

How much do you offer?

Arrigo Rinadli smiled back at Mercury and then took a piece of paper from his desk drawer and slid it across the desk to the Englishman.

Will that be a sufficient amount to begin with? he asked.

Mercury looked at the numbers on the piece of paper for a very long minute. After a pause he said, "I have debts to be settled here in Italy before I leave for France. I would like help in that matter, as well.

The other man nodded, his expression a remarkably convincing imitation of genuine sympathy. I am sure we can make an arrangement, so long as you are truly committed to this service on behalf of the Republic. Just send me a note about what you are needing, and I will discuss it with my superior. But you know, he added, his eyes twinkling slyly, if there is more invested, as a result, we shall have much greater expectations that you will provide useful information.

Mercury did not flinch. He was all in. Grazie, Signore Rinaldi. Oh and on second thought, I need also time in Italy before I depart. I would like to look after my Rocca Sorrentina debts personally. And of course...I need a few more days In Venezia, if I am to see if can discover anything for you about Devi.

Rinadli looked pleased. Ah, certainly....quite alright. We understand. Do what you must. We think of this as the beginning of a long-term working relationship...and if you can help us to get that Devi woman...there will be some flexibility in our expectations. Don Cristoforo is not an unreasonable man.

Mercury was about to say something about being glad to be of service to the Republic and the Doge, but Rinaldi cut him off before he got more than a few words out.

I believe now, you have other appointments to keep? he asked abruptly.

Mercury Gandt understood and rose to his feet.

Please feel free to show yourself out, said Rinaldi.

Send me a note if you have further instructions," replied Mercury.

Oh we will...we will, responded Renaldi. Arrividerci, Signor Gandt.

Without further comment, Mercury wished the man good day, and then proceeded back up the worn stones of the stairway, and out of the dim corridors into the cleansing light of day.

*****************************************

He stood in the bright sunshine, thinking, letting his eyes adjust before setting off again. As he crossed the street to head towards home, he did not notice two figures who were sitting in the shade by the entrance to a nearby church.

Hey, look, said one, isnt that Don Mercurio over there?

His companion pushed back his tricorn and peered at the figure who was disappearing towards the Grand Canal.

Yes. It most certainly is... he replied.

Should we go catch up with him and say hello? the first inquired.

His friend put a hand on his arm to restrain him. No...I dont think so...did you see where he was just coming out of?

No...not really...why?

Over there...you know what that is? Thats sbirri headquarters...you dont go in there unless you have a reason to do so, and you dont come out through the front door like that unless...

Cristo Santo! what do you think this means?

It doesnt mean anything good, that Im sure of. And dont use such language. You were taught better than that. Now come on, lets go. There is someone we need to talk to.

I am so happy. Elisabetta has been released!

Somehow Hugo must have put the right amount of pressure on Cristoph Christophoro to make him see the value of letting her go free. Perhaps it was a question of who blinked first -- and Hugo won. What a dear man! He came with me to the Piombi, the prison where my sister was held. It is a horrid place-cold, damp and very smelly. I think I saw a few rats scurrying along the open drains and the prisoners who were held in the filthy cells were crumpled, desolate figures. They watched dully as we came to release Elisabetta. As we walked through that godless place, I thought to myself how far my dear young sister and I have come from the sumptuous court of Frederic the Great during those years at Sans Souci!

The jailer reluctantly opened the door to Elisabetta's cell, giving me a once over with his eyes that made me flush with embarrassment. I was so glad of Hugo's strong, reassuring presence. The iron door creaked and slammed behind her - loudly sounding the end to her cruel waiting. We supported her as we walked outside into the cold fresh sunshine of Campo San Marco, and I was finally able to hold my frail sister, just skin and bones, in my arms again.

I brought Elisabetta home with me, fed her some hot soup and tucked her into bed.

We will talk in the morning.

~

Then I found Hugo and thanked him with all my heart.

Soon we will leave this sad city and sail with Hugo to a peaceful, sunny place called Rocca Sorrentina.

It is on the west coast of Italy, off the coast of Naples. I will begin packing my bags tomorrow.

.Hugo opens his journal, rubbing his eyes weary but hopeful. He sighs deeply and feels the weight of the city crushing in around him. Raising his quill, he realizes his journal is keeping the game of cat and mouse still unfolding fresh in his mind. And perhaps, helping him plan his next move so Hugo reaches over to smooth the paper and beings to write..

Journal Entry 13th of March

Beatrice sent word of her plan to host an evening of entertainment in the apartments here in Venezia. I knew for a fact she was hopeful for news of her sister, Elisabetta, languishing in prison. The news I was to deliver was not the most optimistic.

Upon my arrival, I was surprised to learn that this Mercury Gandt fellow was to be joining us for the night. Beatrice had informed him of my involvement and thought it prudent that we at least meet face to face.

Once we had settled in with pleasantries, Beatrice offered us wine and Gandt suggested a game of cards. I dealt a swift blow at the start by announcing that Cristofoli had decided to stall and not agree to any meeting with me. Elisabetta would remain in that filthy prison until the secret police, the sbirri , and their leader, Cristofoli, deemed fit to make a deal. Cristofoli seems determined to find the elusive Contessa Elena Foscari, even at the cost of innocent lives.

I fear that the strain of Elisabettas imprisonment is starting to show. Beatrice is anguished at the thought of her sister in that place. Beatrice was at first distraught and somewhat quiet and Gandt was extremely sympathetic to her plight. He stated he had no idea of the whereabouts of Contessa Foscari, the root of the troubles he and Beatrice have encountered recently.

I eyed Gandt from across the table and wasnt quite sure what to make of him. Beatrice assured me of his favorable nature and that I should trust him. I was still unsure. The wine was flowing freely, at least on my part, and I had to remember myself. It seems the strain of the latest turn of events is wearing on me, call it what you will, simple worry for Beatrice and Elisabetta or impatience for us to be on our way.

Mercury Gandt then seemed quite interested in my background. And at times, Beatrice was trying to coax it out of me along with him. Perhaps it was a way for Beatrice to take her mind off her troubles and Mercury was being a gentleman. Beatrice was an enchanting hostess, even in her distress. Her formal title of Duchess, I keep neglecting to use since she and I are so close and so familiar. Neither Mr. Gandt, nor myself, seemed very forthcoming about our histories. Some generalities of course, both of us being from England.

The evening proceeded along well enough, I couldnt help but smile a bit when Gandt lost a round of cards to me. In my memory I wonder if that was some sort of ploy, to let me win at first, he does fancy himself a gambler. Gandt later appeared to loosen up, slightly, so I went along with him.

We made a bit of bargain, this Gandt fellow and myself. Gandt has offered to write a letter of introduction to his friends in Rocca Sorrentina, paving the way for easier access to that port for my business. Gandt, in turn, asked me for a favor. He asked me to locate and check on the welfare of a certain gentleman in England, a gentleman of some standing. I informed him I will do what I can and let him know when the answer arrives. But, he still owes me those ducats from the card game.

One can only hope that Cristofoli will meet me soon and agree to Elisabettas release. My small token will be enough to convince him, I pray. Beatrice and I can sail to Sorrentina with Elisabetta and be done with this place. I certainly wish that Mercury Gandt keeps his end of the bargain and writes to them. I would hate for myself and the ladies to arrive at Sorrentina without proper introduction.

..Hugo lowers the quill and leaves the journal for now. He goes to bed, hoping for a less fitful sleep and some peaceful dreams ..

It's one of those very quiet nights...snatches of songs and guitar music float from Achille Giglio's tavern by the waterfront. Signor Gatto is singing a song of his own, serenading some lady cat somewhere in the upper part of the village...declaring his undying affection for her...

...and out in the old harbor, there is the gentle creaking of anchor cables and soft slapping of small waves against hull planks...and a shape appears from around the headland...

Under the brilliant moonlight, the shape becomes clear. She drops anchor just off the old harbor. A whispered question is heard on the docks..."What ship is that?"

The regulars at the taverna say she is His Majesty's armed brig, the Merope ....no one asks, but all wonder, "is it just coincidence that she anchored off la Rocca Sorrentina on this particular night?

Had anyone been foolish enough to ask such a question out loud, Don Alphonse, the old assistente custode at the Accademia, would have scowled and hissed, "don't be such an idiot, there are no coincidences in this sorry excuse for a world..."

In the morning, she is still there...rolling gently, peacefully at anchor off the old harbor. The sailors on the other ships go about their work while watching her, but without looking like they are watching her...

Dusk comes...and nothing seems to have changed. "Will they never leave?" some young sailor asks. The youth draws in a sharp breath as Don Alphonse slaps him on the back of his head with the palm of his hand, like someone chiding a naughty pup.

"Idiot. Of course they will leave...eventually. In the meantime, practice patience...think of this as a character-building experience.

The young man is about to say something back to Don Alphonse, and then thinks the better of it. His friend next to him is grinning at him. "You're learning," he says softly, not wanting to attract the attention of the assistente custode....

"She's setting sail," one of the old sailors standing by the door says in an offhand manner...sure enough, the crew of the Merope have brought up her anchors and soon, under jib, topsails and driver, begin tacking out into the Bay of Naples...

No one rushes to get back to business...there is time...and it could be a ruse.

***************

The part of the Neapolitan Royal Navy armed brig Merope is played in this little drama by a heavily modified Drakkenwerks "Liberty" class brig, designed by Razi Soyinka. I spent the last few days doing alterations onher, adding some authentic 1780s details and reducing the prims by about 25%. Razi's ships are great SL combat sailing ships as they come off the shelf, but they also make super platforms for modification projects. In addition to the Merope, the three-masted merchant ship in the final picture started life as one of Razi's ships. The Beatrice was made by extensive remodeling of a Drakkenwerks "Alliance" class frigate.

.Hugo again puts quill to paper but not before taking a large mouthful of wine. The day has been somewhat eventful with the story that dear Beatrice has related. Hugo knows full well that he has some demons of his own ..

Journal Entry 11th of February

After the gondola ride to the caf in Venezia, Beatrice finally began to relate some of her reason for sending for me. Shewas nervous as the waiter and barkeep seemed to be keeping an extra close eye on the both of us.

I must digress and say she looked lovely as ever. Watching those large eyes of hers and gentle hands brought back a few moments of delicious memories for me as we spoke. Her soft perfume and skin nearly made me forget myself. Besides, if I do her a favor andhelp her, she will owe me in the future.

She suggested we move further down the PiazzaSan Marco and I couldnt help but comply. In our new spot she told me a tale of her poor sister, Elisabetta, imprisoned unjustly and caught up in a scheme she was innocent of. Beatrice was beside herself with worry and rightly so. A gentle woman in a prison is a horrid proposition, especially in Venezia. I raged inwardly at the mention of the sbirri , the secret police and the name of the barbaric chief, Cristoforo de Cristofoli.

Beatrice spoke of her sister being used as a pawn in the games of Cristofoli. The Foscari family, well known in Venezia, seems to have misplaced their Contessa Elena. Cristofoli has imprisoned Elisabetta to forcedear Beatrice to divulge her whereabouts.

Beatrice assured me that she has no knowledge of Contessa Elena and further mentioned her friend, a Mr. Gandt, who was even beaten and used as a pawn as well. I cannot help but wonder what magic this Contessa holds over Cristofoli.

Poor Beatrice, she ended up in tears near the end of the tale. I consoled and reassured her that I would do the best I could to help her and her sister. She was hopeful that I could help so I finally divulged a few secrets of my own.

Beatrice leaned in as I revealed that I knew the city fairly well, having several business dealings being in the trade of tea and indigo. The port here had served not only my respectable diversions, but the not so respectable ones. I had dealt with this Cristofoli in the past, padding his pockets so that my real trade would be less noticed. Those ridiculous sbirri are his mindless minions after all. But my real trade, opium, is a valuable commodity and one needs discretion above all else.

On a particular occasion, Cristofoli had me clean up a mess for him. He had someone of importance in the city disappear and I aided him after the fact. I found it vile and disagreeable but in the end it gained me more freedom for my ships so I did comply. Not being stupid, I managed to keep a certain trinket off the poor soul, a ring should I ever have need of some, shall we say, leverage over Cristofoli?

I further shared with Beatrice that Ive become bored of this city and the brutality of it. Again, its bad for business and I look forward to finding a new harbor to work from. I will offer to exchange the ring for the release of her dear sister, Im sure that Cristofoli would only be too happy to agree.

At least, if this Contessa Foscari is not more valuable of a prize?

I will arrange a meeting with Cristofoli and see if he will comply. I shall arrange passage for Elisabetta, if released, and offer safe passage to Beatrice. Beatrice mentioned Rocca Sorrentina as her choice of safe haven. She also mentioned that I myself may enjoy Rocca Sorrentina as my new home.

And regarding this Gandt fellow, Beatrice seems fond of him but worries about his thirst for vengeance. Contessa Elena seems to have made more than one enemy. Perhaps it might be entertaining to leave Gandt here in the city with some ducats that I can provide. Beatrice has said he's a gambler, a man after my own heart. Gandt can perhaps further his own ends and maybe keep Cristofoli more engaged with this Contessa mystery. Travel with us or remain, Mr. Gandt can make his own choice when the time comes.

Hugo pauses a moment and then decides to end his journal entry for now. He finishes his wine, takes a deep breath and stands, walking over to the window. Hugos mind wanders back to his own dealings within that once shining city and considers the plans about to unfold..