"I'll tell you when I come. You'll send a guard to come with me?"
"Certamente. At once."
But when the carabiniere arrived, Sam wasn't ready. He had to rush back from the Marciana, apologize to the waiting officer, lead him upstairs into his study and gather up the relics in a hurry. Then they marched together along the Riva to the Piazzetta and the basilica, the carabiniere carrying the relics in a cardboard box sealed with mailing tape, holding it delicately in front of his stomach with both hands.
The north entry into the basilica was sloppy with water, but the sacristy was up several steps and perfectly dry. Here Sam and the young officer watched Father Urbano open the tissue-paper packets of Sacro Legno and count, "Una, due, tre, quattro." He looked up at Sam. "Only four?"
"But there should be five," said the officer. "I brought you five last month, remember?"
"You must have left one at home," said Father Urbano, smiling doubtfully at Sam.
Sam was dumbfounded. "I don't think so." They were looking at him with questioning faces. "But, good Lord, I must have."
"And there are only nine pieces of bone," said Father Urbano, opening another packet and counting. "Didn't I give you ten?"
"Of course you did." Sam gazed at the pitiful little bones. "I don't know what to say. They must be still at home."
"Bene," said the officer. "We'll go and see." His voice was pleasant, but Sam knew there'd be hell to pay if the lost relics were not returned.
The journey was fruitless. Sam ransacked his study, but no other bone was to be found, nor any other fragment of sacred wood.
"I will make a report to Father Urbano," said the officer, his face expressionless.
But then, to Sam's astonishment, the priest was magnanimous. He called to say, "My dear Sam, I trust you. And to prove it, I have a surprise. The curator of the treasures in the Scuola di San Giovanni Evangelista has agreed to send me their reliquary. You know, the famous one containing their own piece of the True Cross."
"You mean the one in the cycle of paintings in the Accademia, that reliquary? The one that performed all those miracles?"
"That's the one."
Sam was flabbergasted. "Oh, thank you, Father. Of course I'll be more careful than ever. Did you tell them I've lost some of your relics?"
"No, no, that's just between us for the moment. The officer has been sworn to secrecy. Once again, Sam, the loan is only for a month."
"But aren't you putting yourself in danger offorgive me, Fatherburning at the stake, or at least excommunication? I mean, if anything should happen to their glorious reliquary?"
Father Urbano's voice turned solemn. "I'm not doing this for you, my dear Sam. Nor even for the sake of the truth. I can't help thinking of my friend Dottoressa Costanza, who made the original request. I honor it for her sake."
In the Scuola di San Giovanni Evangelista a famous reliquary contains a fragment of the True Cross. Its miracles are celebrated in a cycle of paintings in the Gallerie dell'Accademia.
*25*
Next day Sam took the afternoon off to visit the Accademia. He wanted to refresh his memory about the painted miracles of the relic of the True Cross, the one he was about to examine.
He took Mary Kelly along. She met him in his office, and together they boarded the vaporetto near the foot of the Piazzetta. That is, they boarded it after Sam missed his footing and nearly fell off the floating dock.
Mary grabbed him, and so did a couple of passengers, and so did the girl with the rope in her hand. "Are you all right, Sam?" said Mary, looking at him with concern.
He was embarrassed. "Of course I'm all right." Balancing himself with his legs spread wide apart, he gripped the railing as the vaporetto shuddered away from the dock.
It was only a few stops to the small square in front of the Accademia. When they disembarked, Sam bought a Gazzettino at the kiosk and glanced at it quickly for any scrap of information about Dottoressa Costanza.
"Any news?" said Mary, who had lost track of what was going on in the world.
"Nothing important," said Sam, folding the paper and stuffing it in his pocket.
The little square was busy with tourists. They were buying postcards and souvenirs and taking pictures of the gondoliers who stood there idly, smoking and waiting for customers.
"Quanta costa?" said a boy, egged on by his girlfriend. They were part of a crowd of kids on holiday from Naples.
The two gondoliers were punctiliously dressed in navy blue uniforms with sailor collars. Red ribbons dangled from their straw hats. One wore glasses, the other had a gold earring. At once they began bantering with the boy and his girlfriend. Everybody laughed. The boy shook his head. The price was too high.