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the sun on his black hair like the glitter of an adder sliding out from under bracken. “Out of our way! Signore Scalese is under arrest for blasphemy.”
    â€œAre you really, Corrado? I’ve spoken to you before about your Natural Philosophy… We can discuss it again on our way.”
    â€œYou’re taking him nowhere! You may have the authority of a Chief of Police, but I have the personal written authority of the Cardinal of Naples!”
    â€œDo you really?” Luigi Esposito shifted himself from the doorjamb with a casual push of his shoulder.
    Conrad met his gaze across the crowded lobby.
    The Chief of Police for the Port district lazily smiled.
    â€œIn that case, it’s as well I’m not here on my own authority. I come on behalf of his Majesty King Ferdinand, Second of that name, ruler of the Two Sicilies, who requests and requires Conrad Scalese to attend him immediately at his court. And… I do believe that King trumps Cardinal.”

CHAPTER 4
    O nce downstairs and out of doors, Captain Luigi Esposito secured Canon Viscardo by the elbow and moved him aside, haranguing him and the group of priests in a confident tone just too quiet for Conrad to overhear. Overhead, sharp bangs echoed down the street—wooden window shutters slamming open.
    Conrad caught the Canon’s searing glare at Luigi; a contempt that seemed not to be alleviated by the police uniform… Oh . Conrad found himself nodding. Esposito: “the exposed.” One of the traditional surnames the Church gives to foundlings, those nameless children abandoned on orphanage doorsteps: noble bastards, children of prostitutes and the poor, priests’ offspring… Evidently this Viscardo thinks he has more than one reason to despise Luigi .
    â€œPeacock!” JohnJack muttered, his gaze on the police captain, but he sounded relieved.
    Conrad found his mouth still dry. “Wait and see.”
    He fumbled at the back of his greatcoat collar, turning it so that it cushioned his metal collar, and folded his thick felted wool cuffs under the steel shackles.
    Tullio’s eyes narrowed as if he watched for skirmishers. His gaze flicked up and down the oddly deserted street, identifying gossips at windows. Even Naples quietens for the Holy Office. “Them dumb god-botherers didn’t think about transporting a prisoner weighed down so he can’t walk .”
    Conrad yanked his hands apart with the chain taut, hoping to split the links or the hasps on the cuffs. Nothing happened except bruises. “This will do wonders for my public reputation! First I’m a drunkard, because hemicrania knocks me out. And now I’m a criminal in chains! No one’s going to wonder when I get shipped out to the prison on Ischia, are they?”
    A coach rattled up the narrow street towards them.
    Conrad blinked. Some signal was given and I missed it .
    The sunlight flashed back from tack and plumes, and the shining polished rumps of the team of horses. The royal arms stood out clearly painted on the door. A dozen or so of Luigi Esposito’s constables followed. Their uniforms at least had the effect of keeping back the now-emerging, curious—and loud —neighbours.
    â€œImpossible!” Canon-Regular Viscardo’s frustrated hiss echoed across the street. The grooms looked at him with amusement. The man’s black brows pulled down over equally black eyes in a frown of cold power. “You can’t stand in the way of Mother Church! God Himself is King over Kings!”
    Viscardo’s hand slammed against Luigi Esposito’s chest. Conrad saw a sheet of paper sideslip down to the cobbles. One of the officers picked it up and gave it to his Chief.
    Luigi wiped the paper with a silk handkerchief, inclining his head politely. “Thank you, Luka. I’ll certainly pass your message on to his Majesty.”
    The Canon choked.
    Luigi Esposito stepped past him, taking Conrad by the