by Nina Wachsman
This story was first published on Curators of Crime blog.
In Belladonna’s salon, the soft tinkle of feminine laughter often punctuated the gentle hum of conversations, but rarely were heads suddenly turned by the crash of chairs or the shattering of glass.
The raised voices and fists of two young men as they suddenly leaped to their feet, upending the whist table, had instantly charged the room with tension.
“The tile was in your sleeve, you cheat!”
“You dare besmirch me, rogue!”
Belladonna would not remain idle while these fools destroyed the genteel pleasantry of her grand salon for the most influential in Venice. The chatter in the room stilled, and all eyes turned in her direction.
Gathering her voluminous glittering skirts, and standing tall in her platform shoes, Belladonna confronted the angry young men. One of them was Leonardo Contarini, the nephew of her old lover and current nemesis, Niccolo. The other was Sanselmo Zen, whose father sat with Niccolo on the Council of Ten, the powerful magistrates who controlled Venice.
“Gentleman, have some compassion for my poor tableware. Calm yourselves, or I will order Zancani to remove you before you deaden all our hopes for an enjoyable evening.”
Neither Leonardo nor Sanselmo lowered their fists, and both men’s nostrils flared as if they would soon emit fire. Belladonna narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head towards the nearby servant, and the rough-looking Zancani appeared immediately by her side. Zancani’s snarl was enough to garner the attention of the two antagonists, but even before they had lowered their fists, Zancani had grabbed each young man by the scruff of their expensive ruffs, raising them several inches from the floor. Zancani eyed his mistress for her orders.
Belladonna tapped her fan on each man’s chest. “If you are ejected now, you will not return. So, friends, will you behave?”
Each man’s mouth dropped open, as he begged forgiveness. Belladonna ordered Zancani to release them. The servants had already righted the chairs and tables as Leonardo and Sanselmo fixed their ruffs and smoothed their velvet doublets. Gesturing for the two combatants to resume their seats at the table, Belladonna flicked her fan at the servants and goblets of wine were brought and placed before them. Still giving each other venomous looks, Leonardo and Sanselmo dutifully lifted the goblets to their lips and sipped cautiously.
Belladonna gave them a satisfactory nod. “Now that you have once again become civilized, perhaps I can interest you in another game of pure chance. If you are prepared to play, you may stem your losses or exacerbate them. It is your choice.”
She raised her fan like a flag, and a lovely young woman in violet silk came forward. In her dark hair, a tiara of violet gemstones sparkled, and her rosy complexion and full lips seemed to mesmerize the two young men.
“Diana, perhaps you can place the spinning top on the table and explain the way it is played,” Belladonna said.
Diana opened her palm to reveal a small, multifaceted spinning top made of silver. She took it by its stem and held it up closer to the players. Diana had become Belladonna’s trusted friend, but few would recognize her when she arrived earlier in the day with a shawl wrapped across her chest to conceal the yellow badge that marked her as one of the people of the Ghetto. The spinning top and the new game had come from the Ghetto and was used in the celebration of the holiday of Chanukah.
Belladonna addressed the feuding players. “You will put your disputed winnings into the pot. To sweeten it, I will match whatever the amount, so your winnings could potentially double.”
A titter rose from the crowd, who drew closer to the players, clustering around the table. Incentivized, the two young men pulled their stash of coins from pouches in their belts and piled them on a silver tray presented to them by a servant. Belladonna had a small wooden box brought to her, and after quickly counting the gold on the tray, she withdrew the same number of coins from the box and added them to the pile.
Diana had a large captive audience now, and she raised the spinning top for all to see, allowing the candlelight to highlight its facets. Diana began her demonstration of how the game would be played.
“I hold this spinning top by its stem, which is how you will spin it. It has four facets, each side carved with a distinct symbol.” She turned the object to reveal its four sides. “The best symbol is this one, which means “Gain.” If you spin and it lands on this side, you win it all. The next one is this box-like symbol, which stands for “Half.” If it lands on this side, you take half of the pot.”
Diana swiveled the spinning top once more to the third side. “This symbol is three-pronged, and stands for “Share.” If it lands on this side, you must share half your winnings and send it into the pot. The last side,” she said, turning the silver spinning top once more, “is the symbol for Null. If your spin lands here, you receive nothing.”
“Each player will take a turn to spin,” said Belladonna, and taking the spinning top from Diana, handed it to Leonardo Contarini. His uncle took a position behind his nephew’s chair.
“How many spins will we take?” asked Sanselmo, although his eyes never left the impressive pile of coins on the silver tray the servant held before them.
“As many as it takes until the entire pot is won,” Belladonna answered. “Leonardo, since you felt wronged by your loss, I give you the first spin. Fate will now decide whether you are to win or lose.”
Leonardo held the spinning top by its stem, but before he could release it to spin, Niccolo leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Leonardo nodded and handed the spinning top back to Belladonna. “It should be Sanselmo who spins first. It is he who should be the priority to be judged by the Fates.”
Sanselmo took the spinning top from Belladonna’s hand, but managed to jab back at his enemy. “I am not afraid to play, even if Leonardo is.”
Holding the spinning top by its stem, Sanselmo turned it back and forth before releasing it. The little top spun across the table and all eyes followed its path. After a few moments, it began to wobble and then slowed and fell to its side.
Diana leaned over to read the symbol. “Hay!” She called out the name of the symbol, which was a Hebrew letter, by instinct, and quickly corrected herself by saying, “Half! The first player takes half of the pot.”
Sanselmo gave Leonardo a triumphant grin, as he removed half of the coins from the silver tray and placed them into his waiting pouch. Diana retrieved the spinning top and handed it to Leonardo.
Leonardo’s eyebrows had descended to point at his patrician nose. Eyes on his opponent, he took his spin. The spinning top moved in circles on the table, wobbling more and more until it stopped.
Once again Diana leaned in and announced the result. “Null! This player gets nothing.”
Leonardo’s nostrils flared, and his hands gripped the table and shook it. Before he could launch a protest, his uncle’s hand was on his shoulder, restraining him.
Belladonna handed the spinning top to Sanselmo once again. With a nod to her, he unleashed a spin onto the table. The top was spinning fast, and all eyes were glued to it as they waited for the spin to end. It landed on the three-pronged symbol, and Diana called out, “Share! The player must share half of his winnings.”
A smile played on Belladonna’s lips, as Sanselmo was required to empty half of the coins he had just won back onto the silver tray.
Sanselmo’s loss seemed to have encouraged Leonardo, who snatched the spinning top from the table, and held it up by its stem. Raising the top to his lips he kissed it, before releasing it into its spin.
Round and round, and the crowd pressed closer to see where it would land. It stopped, and Diana called out, “Gain!”
The audience began to applaud as the silver tray with its largesse was presented to Leonardo Contarini. His grin was not nearly as satisfied as his uncle’s, whose gaze at Belladonna was triumphant.
Belladonna touched her dangling gold and pearl earrings, which Niccolo had once given her, hoping to remind him that his nephew’s win was nothing in comparison to her own.
Sanselmo Zen bowed to Leonardo, which raised his esteem among the crowd for his graciousness in his acceptance of his loss. Though Leonardo had won, those who had witnessed the contest gathered around Sanselmo, consoling him with words, hugs, and wine.
Diana retrieved the silver spinning top and placed it in a pouch she had tied to her skirts.
“Your little plaything from the Ghetto proved highly useful tonight,” said Belladonna.
Diana giggled. “I had only brought it to entertain you. Tomorrow night is the first night of the Chanukah holiday when everyone will be playing this dreidel in the Ghetto, particularly the children who play to win treats.”
“And Christmas is approaching, so between your holiday and ours, your father should not be able to frequent the gaming tables.”
Diana sighed. “My father is revered as a rabbi, but the community is critical of his vice, and has threatened his position more than once. He cannot control himself and is convinced that each time he plays he will redeem himself by winning. It will be a challenge to keep him from using the dreidel to gamble for all eight days of the holiday.”
While Diana continued to describe her plans for the approaching holidays, Belladonna surveyed her remaining guests, encountering the malevolent gaze of Niccolo Contarini.
#
Belladonna had been sleeping when Diana departed in the early morning, since only then the gates of the Ghetto would be open to admit her. Usually asleep until noon, Belladonna could tell it was much earlier from the paleness of the light from the windows when the maid awoke her with the news of a visitor.
“Why do you wake me? You should know better. Visitors are not to be admitted until evening,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her temples, aching from lack of sleep.
The maid twisted her hands, and said, “He said it was a terrible calamity that has occurred, and you must know of it.”
“Ugh!” Belladonna fell back on her pillow. Must she face another potential disaster, so soon after last night? Luckily, Diana’s dreidel had salvaged the evening, and likely prevented a duel and a possible death. What had Fate in store for her today? She sighed, and got out of bed, asking the cowering maid to help her wash and dress.
She entered the salon with the casual expectation of greeting another member of the Venetian elite but was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the rabbi, Diana’s father, pacing the polished floor. The rabbi was a tall, thin, bearded man in his fifties, garbed in the secondhand clothing of someone well born, likely sourced from the pawnbrokers of the Ghetto. He counted among his friends both the English ambassador and the Patriarch of Venice, and had been granted the dispensation of not having to wear a yellow hat or badge marking him as a Jew.
Though the rabbi was aware of his daughter’s friendship with Belladonna, he did not welcome it, and had never sought her out before. His presence and his pacing made her clasp her hands and swallow, as she prepared herself for bad news.
“Good morning, Rabbi Modena. You have informed my servants there is a calamity unfolding, and I presume you require my help. Please, sit, and enlighten me.”
The rabbi stopped his pacing, and his eyes were wide and desperate as they sought hers. “Diana. Is she here?”
“She left earlier today. I sent her in my gondola.”
Belladonna’s mind raced to the most obvious possibility, a Jew outside of the Ghetto gates, violating the curfew. Could Diana have been taken to the Pozzi, the dreadful prisons in the Doge’s Palace?
“If she has been arrested, it should not be difficult to obtain her release for violating the curfew. I can say she delivered much-needed medicine at my request. I will send a message and see what I can learn.”
Belladonna called for paper to pen a note to Bardon Morosini, an ally and friend, as well as a member of the Council of Ten. As she began her note, Belladonna considered the other possibility––that Diana had been abducted. In that case, Morosini, who had often expressed his romantic interest in Diana, could be a likely candidate.
“Has Diana expressed any concerns about unsolicited attention from Morosini?”
The rabbi shook his head. “Morosini has never pressed his case with her, or she would have told me. Oddly, the only person who she had concerns about was Leonardo Contarini.”
“Leonardo?” Belladonna repeated, feeling numb. “What has Leonardo done?”
“He has sent notes and messengers with invitations, but Diana shrugged them off and never responded, so I did not take it seriously.” The rabbi clasped his hands together tightly, and there was a note of complaint in his voice. “I have warned her many times of attracting too much attention, yet she continues to appear at your salon. No matter how she dresses or whom she befriends, she is still a Jew, and you know how little protection that merits.”
The rabbi’s concerns echoed her own, but Belladonna would not let such fears cloud her thinking. Diana had left early in the morning in her gondola. First, it made sense to interview the gondolier. She sent the footman to bring him to the salon immediately.
The rabbi paced the floor as they waited for the gondolier. After several minutes, the footman had not returned.
Belladonna rose. “If Diana had met with some mishap while in his care, the fellow will be cowering, and needs to be coaxed from his hiding place. I shall see to the gondolier myself.”
The rabbi followed her through the corridors and down the staircase which twisted to the realm of the servants. They found the missing footman trying to hold back the cook and serving staff from entering the open door of a storeroom. He spoke in staccato gasps, and his face was pale with shock.
“The gondolier. In there. Trussed like a pig. What to do?”
The rabbi, accomplished in the healing arts, sidled through the cluster of servants, with Belladonna behind him. The rabbi untied the gondolier gently, since there was blood on his clothes, and the man was breathing with difficulty.
“He has been coshed on the head,” the rabbi said, after he completed his examination. “He will need rest and care to recover. He is in no condition to tell us anything now.”
After seeing to the servant’s care, Belladonna went to the dock, hoping to find some clue to Diana’s abduction. Lifting her skirts carefully, she was about to climb aboard to search the cabin, when the rabbi stopped her.
“Allow me,” he said, and she nodded.
Belladonna tapped her foot as she waited for the rabbi to complete the search. The gondola rocked as he moved about inside it.
“I found this.” The rabbi opened his palm, and revealed the small silver dreidel, the little spinning top Diana had offered Leonardo and Sanselmo to settle their conflict. Diana had handed the top to Leonardo, and Belladonna recalled how he looked at Diana.
Belladonna’s eyes narrowed, and she took the little spinning top from Rabbi Modena. “This confirms my suspicions. I will take this with me, and have no fear, I will return with Diana.”
Wrapped in her cloak, Belladonna faced the wind and braced herself for her encounter as the gondola plowed through the waters of the canal towards the palazzo of the Contarinis. The lion’s den, for if Leonardo was responsible, Niccolo would be the one to barter for Diana’s release.
This was not her first visit to negotiate with Niccolo Contarini. Several months ago, when she and the beautiful women of Venice were threatened by a poisoner, Belladonna’s investigation had led her to the palazzo of the Contarinis. Could Niccolo have forgotten their last encounter so soon? Niccolo had agreed to hold off his intrigues against the people of the Ghetto if Belladonna kept the identity of the murderer secret.
Niccolo came to her soirees, hovering like a hawk, as if waiting for a moment of her weakness as an opportunity to pounce. What had given Contarini the confidence to attack her now, through Diana?
The footman recognized her and let her pass, directing her to the library. Niccolo stood by a large desk, with a great leather-bound book open in his hand, as if he were posing for her. Leonardo was not to be found, which suited Belladonna’s purpose.
“I have been expecting you,” said Contarini, closing the book.
“Our little game begins again, Niccolo. You make a move, anticipating my response. You know I can reveal a secret which will ruin any hope of your election to Doge, yet you have reneged on our bargain by abducting Diana. Let me see, what are your expectations this time?” Belladonna pulled off her gloves slowly one by one, purposely diverting Niccolo’s attention.
“I am a member of the Council of Ten and charged with administering justice. My nephew reported a theft last night, and your friend from the Ghetto was discovered in the vicinity of the crime. Therefore, she has been brought before the Council of Ten for judgment. Why not let justice run its course?”
Belladonna, uninvited, took a seat in the sturdy chair behind the desk, which registered a slight tic or spasm in her interlocutor’s eyes. She made sure to flick a finger at her ear lobes, to catch Niccolo’s eye. Once again, she wore the earrings he had given her, and Niccolo’s jaws tensed whenever he noticed them.
Belladonna gave a dramatic sigh, before saying, “He is missing his money, you say? Perhaps the same person who attacked my gondolier, and abducted Diana from my personal gondola is responsible. As a magistrate, you must be concerned over such a crime spree.”
Niccolo gave her a cold stare. “It is your word only of such an abduction, and only you will come to the Jewess’s defense. Besides, many of us on the Council are skeptical of what women say, since you are such emotional creatures. Keep that in mind and consider what you say.”
Belladonna coughed, to contain her rising anger. “Perhaps the testimony of my gondolier would be considered by your esteemed colleagues?”
Niccolo sniffed, as if he detected a foul odor. “I see no point in prolonging this discussion. You have come to my home making serious and hysterical accusations of abduction, when I have told you the woman you seek is in custody, accused of theft and already in violation of Venetian law by her presence outside of the Ghetto at night, and without the yellow badge.”
Belladonna wanted to throw one of the many heavy books on the desk at Contarini, but instead she asked, “What is it you want, Niccolo?”
The straight line of his thin lips widened into his cold smile. He had been waiting for her question. He raised his thin hand and pointed a bony finger at her––at her ears. “Those.”
The earrings, of course.
“You gave them to me, and now you choose to take them back. Tsk, tsk, and I thought you were from a noble family.” She emphasized the word, and then thought of another jab sure to topple his smugness. “Oh yes, but you are keeping to your brother, the brigand’s, traditions, are you not, Niccolo? Harassment and extortion are so much his style.”
Belladonna had made the acquaintance of Niccolo’s brother at a duel. He was a fearsome bandit who prowled the roads of the Veneto. She had bested Niccolo by leveraging his brother’s gang, and she hoped reminding him of it would sting.
Niccolo seemed to take her words like a slap. His cheeks reddened and his nostrils flared. Belladonna realized she had made a mistake. Antagonizing her opponent may feel rewarding for a few moments but would do little to help achieve her ends. Her mind raced as she walked slowly towards the door.
“Wait!” She returned to stand face to face with Contarini. “I have an offer, if you are willing to gamble.”
Niccolo’s thick grey eyebrows raised; he was intrigued. Her heart pounding, Belladonna held out her hand, and opened it, displaying Diana’s spinning top, the dreidel.
“Spin it. You heard the rules last night. We will play only for either of us to land on GAIN or NULL. Though I do not trust you, Niccolo, I know you will honor a bet. Bet on the spin of this top, and consider it Trial by God or Fate, or whatever superior power you believe in. If I win, you release Diana, and keep your odious nephew away from her. If I lose, I will leave Diana to the judgment of the Council of Ten, and the earrings are yours once more.” She raised her palm with the dreidel higher. “Well, are you willing to take my bet? I have far more to lose than you.”
Belladonna realized the truth of her words. Niccolo had little to lose, and she was staking her friend’s freedom on a chance spin. She had gained confirmation of Diana’s whereabouts, and did have influence on the Council of Ten, which she could bring to bear to obtain Diana’s release if she lost this round.
“I am willing to gamble, are you?”
In response to her last goading remark, Niccolo cleared all the books and papers from his desk to one side, clearing an area for the spin.
Belladonna held up the spinning top by its stem and pointed to the symbols on its facets. “This one is the symbol for Gain, and this one is the symbol for Null. If it lands on the other two symbols, you spin again.”
She presented the spinning top to Contarini. He held her eyes for a moment, and then taking it by the stem, dropped it into a spin. Her hand strayed to the long strand of pearls cascading from her neck, and her fingers played with them as the top continued its spin. When the spinning top began to slow into a wobble, both leaned in.
It landed on one of the other symbols.
She released the breath she had been holding and said, “Again. You must spin again.”
Niccolo’s mouth had hardened into a straight line, but complying, he took the top by its stem, and released it once again into a spin.
She cocked her head to the side as she watched the spin, feeling the weight of one of the earrings against her cheek. Niccolo did not want the earrings for their worth, but to assuage his wounded pride. To him, she wore them as a trophy, and he did not want to be considered a conquest of Belladonna. It was so important to him, he would trade a woman’s freedom for it.
The spinning stopped.
“Null!” she announced.
Niccolo’s nostrils flared, and he said, “You have not won, yet. You must spin, and only if it lands on ‘Gain’ do you win.”
“Correct.” Belladonna took the spinning top by its stem. “If it does not land on ‘Gain’, we spin again, until it does–for one of us.”
She released the top into a spin. If it resulted in a win for her, would Niccolo hold to his word and release Diana?
As it spun, she touched the earrings and vowed she would not wear them again. Tormenting Contarini with them had not been her conscious aim, though she had taken pride in wearing them. If the earrings had spurred Contarini to take vindictive action against her friends, they were of no worth to her anymore.
The spinning of the top was slowing. It fell over and stopped. Belladonna, feeling sweat beading on her forehead, leaned in to see which side was facing up.
“Gain!” Belladonna shouted, raising her hands in her excitement.
Niccolo’s mouth folded into itself and became a straight line, and he sucked in his cheeks. He managed to mutter, “It seems that you have won.”
“I have. You will honor the bet?” She retrieved the silver spinning top.
Contarini straightened his back. “A Contarini would never renege on a bet. Your friend shall be released.”
Belladonna nodded. Then, tilting her head, she unscrewed each earring, handing them both to Contarini. He held her hand and did not let go.
“Leonardo had taken your friend, having developed an unmitigated passion for her last night. I do not condone such behavior, so I had her taken on suspicion of theft, instead.”
Belladonna freed her hand from his. “You have made your point. And you should know that these earrings were not worn as trophies of our relationship, Niccolo, but mementos.”
Contarini did not reply but took the earrings and placed them on the desk. He pulled out paper, pen, and scrawled a note. After heating red wax and dripping it onto the paper, he pulled a heavy looking seal from his desk, and pressed it into the wax.
The expression on Contarini’s face did not soften as he handed Belladonna the final document. “This will authorize your friend’s release. She is being held in the chambers of the Council of Ten.”
Belladonna held the little silver dreidel. It had helped her create another temporary truce between them.
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A very interesting story! I was anxious to learn the outcome for Diana.