Read 4 - The Iron Tongue of Midnight for Free Online Page A

head.”

Chapter Three
    Later, in our room, after enduring a round of Octavia’s wavering arias sung at an alarming volume, I sat up to read through Alessandro’s letter one more time. Gussie’s gentle snores and the muted chimes of the long-case clock in the hall were my only company. At home, I would have heard the soft dip of oars on the canal beside our house, the warning cries of the boatmen as they navigated around corners, perhaps a burst of revelry from a distant square. Compared to Venice, the countryside around the villa was unnervingly quiet. At one point, a dog let fly with a cascade of barks. Otherwise, silence reigned. I didn’t get very far into the letter. I missed Liya. This trip marked the first time we had been apart since our marriage. Though I knew she would welcome the pay I earned for Tamerlano , being away from her made me feel oddly out of joint. I burrowed back into the cushions, rubbed my ribs where they’d been bruised in the carriage accident, and let images of my beautiful Jewess run through my mind: her warm skin, her sweet-smelling hair, the notch at the base of her neck that seemed perfect for bestowing kisses.
    The candle burned itself out on my reverie, but I didn’t bother to relight it. Closing heavy eyelids, I let Alessandro’s letter slip from my fingers and allowed sleep to claim me inch by inch. I remained in its silent cocoon until, just outside our door, a woman screamed.
    The terrified yelps had me on my feet in an instant, heart racing and eyes straining. Our room was as black as the inside of a tar barrel.
    “By Jove!” Gussie exclaimed, feet hitting the floor an instant after mine. He swore as he crashed into something hard. I echoed him as I tripped over the shoes I’d left forgotten by my chair. By the time we’d fumbled our way through the door, the screams had diluted to stuttering sobs.
    Carmela Costa was standing in the center of the dark hall, surrounded by a nimbus of yellow light. She held a candlestick aloft with a firm hand, but her chin was trembling and so was the hand that clutched her nightshift. As our fellow guests spilled out of their rooms, exclaiming loudly and bearing more candles, the cause of Carmela’s distress became obvious.
    A man lay at her feet. He was dressed for outdoors in dark clothing and boots of black leather that laced up to his knees. His head was turned sharply, so that he seemed to be staring directly at Carmela’s shapely ankle. He wasn’t moving.
    “Is he dead?” Gussie asked.
    I took in the chestnut hair, loosened from its ribbon, spreading across the patterned carpet. Blood caked a concave patch at his temple and matted the flowing locks.
    “It would seem so.” I was amazed at how steady my voice sounded. My heart was pounding against my ribs as if I’d just run a foot-race.
    “We must see.” Gussie knelt and curled his long fingers around the man’s wrist.
    Carmela shuffled back, still sobbing in noisy gulps. By common consent, the rest of the company formed a shield around her, patting her shoulders, whispering questions, and casting horrified looks at the body.
    Gussie shook his head. “No pulse. And he’s not breathing.”
    “Are you sure?” Emilio’s high voice sliced through the general murmur.
    “Quite sure. He’s not stone cold, but he’s most certainly dead.”
    How could it be otherwise, I thought. Someone had bashed his head in. The instrument of his demise still lay beside him: a shiny brass disk attached to a thin rod of duller metal. The brass was smeared with dried blood, forming an obscene caricature of a rose.
    I stooped beside Gussie and studied the object. It looked so familiar, glinting in the shifting candlelight. Yet I couldn’t place it.
    “What is this thing?” I asked.
    Thanks to his keen artist’s eye, my brother-in-law had the answer immediately. Gussie pointed, and everyone’s gaze followed his outstretched finger toward the long-case clock that overlooked the intersecting