Free The Black Opera by Mary Gentle Page B

or rapid judgement. Ferdinand gave an accepting nod
    â€œVery well. Inform this Rossi of what you must. And tell him, not that I’ll hang him, but that he’ll get you hanged if he’s lax. If I know the type of man, that will keep him silent more than a threat to himself.”
    Conrad nodded, quietly impressed.
    â€œTell as few as you can, as little as you can—and if you decide at any time that you want nothing to do with the employment I offer you, I need you to affirm you’ll never speak of any part of it afterwards. Never, to anyone. Will you affirm those things?”
    â€œI affirm that I’ll keep silent.”
    Conrad frowned.
    â€œâ€”Unless anyone will come to harm by my doing so. In that case, I’ll do my utmost to consult with you first, sir, but I won’t keep quiet if it means someone will be hurt or killed.”
    â€œâ€¦Has anyone ever told you you’re a difficult man, Conrad?”
    â€œYes, sir. Almost everyone.”
    Something in that evidently appealed to Ferdinand. The King shook his head ruefully, with a mercurial smile that Conrad realised was much morecharacteristic of the man than his banal public expression. It did not detract from his sincerity.
    â€œVery well, I accept the reservation. I accept your word. In turn, I swear I’ll tell you all of this matter that I can, except where reasons of State mean I cannot.”
    Ferdinand offered his hand. Conrad took it. The King’s grip felt surprisingly strong.
    â€œI’ll guarantee your safety as much as is humanly possibly. In fact your defiance of the Church is useful, Conrad. I can make you seem just a bone of contention between Cardinal Corazza and myself—our views are known to differ… But, if you were in the Neapolitan forces during the northern campaign, you’ll know that not all dangers can be avoided. There are powerful men involved. They won’t like being opposed.”
    Powerful men—but not the Camorra or the società onorata?
    The same kind of powerful men.
    The old helpless fury spilled into Conrad’s memory, and this time goaded him. “I’ll need you to provide safety on the other Sicily for my mother, Agnese, and the family. I can undertake this with a clear conscience, but I don’t want them dragged in.”
    â€œThat’s reasonable. Yes.”
    Ferdinand turned on his heel, making restlessly for the end of the terrace.
    He’s not relieved that we’ve made an agreement . If anything he’s more tense. What is it he has to tell me?
    Conrad rapidly moved up, and fell in the half-pace behind a monarch that good breeding requires.
    Ferdinand beckoned him forward, to his side.
    â€œI’ll arrange for your family to be watched and guarded, and if it becomes necessary, moved to a safer place.”
    The King paused, and rested his hands on the sea-wall’s sun-bleached stone. He stared at the Amalfi coast. The fingers of his right hand drummed a tattoo.
    â€œAs for you… I intend, first, to hide you in plain sight. Nothing attracts attention like guards. We’ll attach you to the Master of Music here at the Palace; say, as a copyist. If it’s discovered you’re writing a libretto, describe it as a oneact summer comedy in Neapolitan dialect, or a replacement opera to go on if another production fails.”
    The world fell into one of those moments of silence. It brought Conrad the lap of waves, and the cries of sea-birds over in the harbour. The wind shifted inshore, carrying the faint odour of umbrella pine over the smell of the city.
    â€œTell me, Conrad. Have you ever heard of society that calls itself ‘the Prince’s Men’?”

CHAPTER 6
    N ow we begin to get answers ! Conrad scraped at the barrel-bottom of his memory. With a jackdaw-mind that snaps up every shiny thing to store for opera librettos, have I ever… ever…
    â€œNo, sir.” Conrad pushed away frustration.