The Council of Ten

Chapter 21 - How it Began (The Memoirs of Paolo Bianchi)

Chapter Twenty-One – How It Began (The Memoirs of Paolo Bianchi)

*****

‘It’s easier to resist at the beginning than at the end.’ ~ Leonardo Da Vinci

*****

                My memoirs are but a mere window into my present state of mind and I have thought much about the past. By now, I’m sure, you have gathered that a series of tragic events changed my life. Perhaps, dear reader, it is time to show you a little something.

I distinctly remember the cold morning, my breath clouding in the quiet street. And it was early. Far too early for anyone to have any sort of business. Well, that is, apart from me. But it isn’t so much the morning I ought to be remembering. No, the morning was all but wasted in a waiting room. It’s the afternoon when everything happened.

                “Paolo,” Gualtiero said as he beckoned me closer to his desk. “It is a pleasure to have you here, old friend.”

                “The pleasure is all mine,” I said, smiling “so, what business do you have for me? It is of great importance I believe.”

                “Yes, quite.” Gualtiero met my gaze and, for the first time in my life, I was unnerved by my friend. For the first time – I feared him.

There is often much to be feared in a man so overcome by desire it is the only thing he sees. There is much to be feared in such passion, especially if those fancies are dark.

“Paolo, Venice is in danger. Danger from people who don’t truly belong here and...in danger of losing the people who do.”

                The swine played upon those things I hold dear so, really, I hadn’t a chance. But I could have said no, couldn’t I?

                “What?” I exclaimed, overcome by alarm “what are you saying?”

                “I’m saying,” Gualtiero paused, “that we need your help.” He licked his lips and drew in a breath, “to eliminate those who are causing the problem.” I was stunned into silence, my brain ticking frantically, my thoughts a mess. Eliminate? “Paolo, please, Venice will die without you.”

                If only I’d known what those words truly meant. If only I could have seen. With hindsight, I’ll translate for you, dear reader. What Gualtiero meant was: Venice will die because of you.

                “How?” I croaked. I saw nothing but red and darkness. Confusion. Desperation.

                “Join the Council.” My friend pushed a piece of paper across his desk and handed me a pen.

                “They wouldn’t have me,” I shook my head and laughed without mirth, “have you gone mad? I have no place in politics.”

                Gualtiero chuckled, mocking me. “Not that Council, fool. Our Council.”

                The beginning of the end. There are sometimes moments in life when we feel so wrong, but see no other way out. When we feel so wrong, but so right. It would have been simple to walk out then and never look back. Perhaps it would have resulted in my death or somebody else’s. Perhaps it is for the best I nodded in agreement. Perhaps. Or perhaps I sealed my fate with that one word.

                “Yes.”

                “Good,” Gualtiero smiled smugly, like the cat that got the cream and tapped the dotted line, “just sign here and it’s a done deal.”

                “I-“ I began, about to ask a question but the look I received from my friend told me to stop and shut my mouth. I sighed “I have no ink.” My heart sank as a letter opener was passed across the desk, the edge sharpened like a knife.

                “You don’t need any.” With a deep breath I cut deeply into my palm and signed my name: Paolo Bianchi – in blood.

                It feels odd that it should be told in so few words. It feels strange, that, the thing that is killing me took hardly any time to write. But at the time, it went so fast. It was over before it had begun and even after I signed that paper, I had no idea what I’d done. It wasn’t until later, much later, that I realized that this scheme was not to save Venice, but to destroy it.

                Perhaps I’ll have the chance, one day, to tell you the full story. Perhaps I will find time. But there is little chance of that happening, just as there is little chance that there is anybody out there trying to save Venice but me. I fear, dear reader, that you will not see many more words from me. So please, hold tight, for the end is nigh.

                Your humble servant,

                Paolo Bianchi

*****

Author's Note: This was meant to be so much better and longer, but it came out differently. It will be changed once edited, but the next chapter should make up for this :) So sorry for the wait, see my broadcast to fans for more of an apology. Thanks so much for reading, it's much appreciated! :)