The Glassblower of Murano - Marina Fiorato [27]
`Gene,' he said finally. He handed the form back. As he did so he said, with his first hint of friendliness, `You know, Leonora is a much better name than Nora. And it is the right name for a Venetian. See,' he pointed to the Lion of Saint Mark, which adorned the top of Nora's form. `The Lion. II Leone. Leonora.' He raised his eyes to hers for the first time, and she placed him at last - he was the man from the Pieta, the one that had glanced at her in the Vivaldi concert.
She wondered if he had recognized her too, before she registered what he had said about her name. It struck her that it was the exact opposite of what Stephen had said to her - that Leonora was pretentious and affected. Here it was not. Here it fitted. Here Nora was the strange name, an English name, a cause for comment. She was becoming a Venetian. She looked at the man who had invited this epiphany, and smiled.
He returned the smile, then instantly the professionalism was back. He looked down at the forms again. `You are still living at the Hotel Santo Stefano?'
`Yes:
The officer took a sharp intake of breath, making that peculiar sound that, in any language, denotes great expense.
`I know I'm looking for a flat at the moment' Nora felt the urgency better than anyone. The money from the sale of Belmont was fast disappearing, and a month in a hotel hadn't helped.
The officer looked thoughtful. `I know someone who could help you. My cousin is an agent for a number of apartments in San Marco. If you want, I could show you some. Maybe at the weekend? I'm off on Saturday?'
Nora felt doubtful, memories of the evening with Roberto and Luca fresh in her mind. But this man was a public official. And she did need a flat. She was determined however, to plan future meetings in the safety of daytime.
`What about 3 o'clock?'
He nodded.
`Where?' she asked.
He got up to open the door for her. `How about the Cantina Do Mori? The Two Moors? In San Polo?'
Where else. A little known, ancient, steadfastly Venetian drinking place. To a tourist, he would have suggested Florian's. She felt flattered. `Perfect!
He held out his hand as she made to leave, and as she shook it he said, `I'm Officer Alessandro Bardolino.'
She smiled again. `At the Do Mori, then, Officer Bardolino.'
And Leonora Manin walked out of the Questura, once again without her permesso di lavoro.
CHAPTER 8
La Bocca del Leone
The first time Corradino fled for his life to Murano went like this.
The Manins were a powerful and wealthy family. They accrued a significant fortune from their mercantile interests along the Black Sea to the Levant and Constantinople. By the mid-seventeenth century they had attained considerable political power to match.
The head of the family, Corrado Manin, lived with his twin younger brothers Azolo and Ugolino, in a grand palazzo in the Campo Manin, a square named in the family's honour. Corrado took a wife, Maria Bovolo, a woman of good character and even better connections. They had a son, also called Corrado, but known as Corradino, the diminutive form which distinguished him from his father. The family adored each other and the house ran like the well appointed merchant ships that had made the Manin fortune. There were many servants, a French tutor for little Corradino, and the Manin men were free to pursue their interests in the political sphere.
One summer, when Corradino was ten, and becoming a well-formed intelligent boy, the Manin fortunes changed.
Corrado was elected to the Council of Ten, the closeknit junta that ran the Republic of Venice. Azolo was also elected in the same year. Ugolino was excluded from office by an ancient edict that stated that no more than two members of any one family could serve at the same time. This stricture was designed to avoid familial corruption, but merely fostered it. Embittered by his exclusion, for Ugolino was actually a half-hour older than his twin, he continued to assist his