The Thief Lord Part 22

"Blackmail," he grumbled.

"Call it what you will," Renzo replied. "Though I could find a few choice words to describe what you've done on this island today."

Barbarossa looked at him so pathetically that Prosper had to laugh.

"I'd take him up on his offer, little redhead," he said. "Otherwise Morosina will feed you to the dogs."

Barbarossa clenched his chubby fists helplessly. "Fine, I accept," he said, looking up at the dogs who had settled on the top step. "But it's still blackmail."

46 Barbarossa's Punishment

It was early afternoon when they all returned to Venice. But the sky was covered by such dark clouds that Prosper thought that dusk must have already fallen.

He had completely lost all sense of time. The night before -- when he and Scipio had headed off for the Isola Segreta -- seemed like months ago, and now he felt like a traveler, returning from a journey through strange and distant lands. It began to rain as Scipio steered his father's boat onto the Grand Ca.n.a.l. The wind drove cold raindrops into their faces like hardened tears.

"How much longer do I have to be stuck in this hole?" Prosper heard Barbarossa moaning.

Scipio had locked Barbarossa in the cabin to make sure he didn't try any new tricks. Renzo was following them in Barbarossa's boat, a big barge in which the redbeard had probably intended to bring a few things back from the island. Barbarossa had of course denied this. Morosina had stayed on the island to look after the dogs. When Renzo had said goodbye to the mastiffs, they had wagged their tails so feebly that he looked quite worried as he boarded Barbarossa's boat.

"How are you going to get back to the island?" Scipio asked him as they moored the boats by a jetty in a secluded ca.n.a.l.

"Oh, I think I'll borrow Signor Barbarossa's boat for a while," Renzo answered. "It's much handier than my sailing boat. And it will also stop him from paying me any surprise visits."

Barbarossa muttered something unfriendly before grumpily trudging ahead. Scipio had given him the clothes that he'd worn as a boy, but even they were too big for Barbarossa. The shoes kept slipping off his feet at every other step, and the more he tried to put on a dignified face, the more people kept turning around to laugh.

Scipio's grown-up figure also attracted a lot of curious attention. Renzo had given him his old cape as a present, making Scipio look as if he had just stepped out of an oil-painting. Prosper walked next to him, feeling very self-conscious. He missed Scipio's familiar features, which even with the mask had never seemed as strange as this. Scipio kept smiling at him, trying to rea.s.sure him, but it didn't help much.

The rain pelted down even harder on to the pavement, and when they finally reached Barbarossa's shop, the alley was practically deserted.

With a very glum expression, Barbarossa unlocked the door and switched on the light. He let the "CLOSED" sign hang behind the gla.s.s, and locked the door as a precaution.

"You have to let me keep a third," he complained as he led the way into his office. "At least! What else am I going to live off? Do you want me to starve miserably?"

It was much easier for him, now that he was smaller, to negotiate his way through his crammed shop, but he still tried to swagger past the shelves like he used to in the past. The attempt looked so strange that Scipio started to mimic him behind his back.

"What's the silly giggling about?" Barbarossa asked when Prosper and Renzo burst out laughing. Then he vanished through the beaded curtain with an indignant look on his face. The three followed him.

"Get out!" Barbarossa barked at them. "You'll get the money, but the safe combination is none of your business."

"We'll close our eyes," Prosper said. He moved a chair underneath the poster of the Accademia Museum behind Barbarossa's desk.

"You spied on me!" Barbarossa hissed as he struggled to climb on to the chair. "You and your hedgehog friend. Since when have you known that the safe is behind the poster?"

Prosper shrugged. "We didn't know," he answered, "but Riccio always suspected that it was there."

"You're just a bunch of cowards!" Barbarossa growled, while he awkwardly removed the poster from the wall. "Robbing a little child. The pestilence and pox on you. Just you wait until I've grown back to a decent size ..."

"That should take some time," Renzo interrupted him. "Now open it! I have to see a vet; you may remember why...Thinking about it, I'd say you were getting off more than lightly."

Barbarossa stared at the safe.

"I've forgotten the combination!" he said. But Renzo gave him such an ominous look that it immediately came back to him.

"Is that it?" Renzo shouted as Barbarossa held out two wads of bills toward him. "That's what you've been moaning about all the time? It's hardly enough for the vet!" Without a further word, Renzo turned around and walked back into the shop.

"What's he doing now?" Barbarossa jumped off the chair and rushed after Renzo. "Don't touch anything, do you understand?"

Renzo stood in the middle of the shop, underneath the chandelier with the colored gla.s.s petals, and looked around. "What would you take?" he asked Scipio. "What would be a proper compensation for him smashing my lion wing and changing our lives forever?"

Scipio opened a gla.s.s cabinet and took something out of it. "What about this?" he asked. He put the sugar tongs he'd stolen from his father's house into Renzo's hand.

Barbarossa, outraged, gasped for air. "I paid for those, Thief Lord," he screamed with his shrill child's voice. "Ask your courier. I paid more than a fair price for them."

Scipio stepped threateningly close to Barbarossa. The redhead barely reached up to his waist.

"The sum on the price tag is ten times what you gave Prosper," he said. "We've played by your rules long enough, redhead, now it's time for you to play by ours."

"Like h.e.l.l I will!" Barbarossa put his hands on his hips. Scipio, however, just turned away and looked at the other pieces in the cabinet.

Renzo stuffed the two wads of bills into his jacket and dropped the sugar tongs into his pants pocket. Then he turned around.

"I wish you luck, Thief Lord," he said. He opened the shop door. A gust of wind drove the rain inside. "Should you ever wish to visit me again, just ring the bell by the gate and I'll open it for you."

"But you, Barbarossa!" he said. "You'd better give the Isola Segreta a wide berth in the future. Our dogs will never forget your scent."

"So what? Those monsters won't live forever," Prosper heard Barbarossa mutter. But Renzo had already turned around and stepped out into the alley. The rain pelted from the roofs as if the sky had promised the sea to drown the city.

Scipio moved to the window and watched Renzo until he vanished between the houses.

"Prosper, you're probably going back to Ida Spavento's house now, aren't you?" he said, keeping his eyes on the alley. "I'll take you there. All right?"

"Sure. You can sleep in our room -- at least tonight," Prosper answered. But Scipio shook his head.

"No," he said staring out the window. "I need to be alone tonight. I still have some money. I'll get a hotel room with a large mirror, so I can get used to my new face. Perhaps Mosca can give me some of that phony money. For emergencies only, of course! What hotel is your aunt staying in?"

"The Sandwirth," Prosper answered. He wondered whether he should go there first too.

Scipio read Prosper's thoughts. "Let's go to Ida's first," he said. "They're probably all worried about you."

Barbarossa pushed between the two. "And what about me? I can't be left alone!"

Scipio and Prosper had forgotten all about the redhead. How small he looked between all the valuable and worthless things he had greedily ama.s.sed. Now the counter reached up to his shoulders.

"You can sleep at my place," Barbarossa said. "I have a nice apartment, very big, right above the shop."

"No, thank you," Scipio answered. He pulled the cape tighter around his shoulders. "Come on, Prop. Let's go."

"Hold on, not so fast. Wait!" Barbarossa stumbled past them and planted himself in front of the door. "I'm coming with you!" he declared. "I'm not staying here. It's out of the question. It may all look different tomorrow, but right now ..." He cast an uneasy look out of the window. "It's going to be dark soon. I mean, it's terribly dark already. The rain's washing away the whole city, and I won't even be able to reach my fridge, let alone my coffeepot. Basta!" Basta!" He pushed Scipio's hands away as he tried to reach for the door handle. "I'm coming with you. Only until tomorrow." He pushed Scipio's hands away as he tried to reach for the door handle. "I'm coming with you. Only until tomorrow."

Prosper and Scipio exchanged an amused look. Finally, Prosper shrugged. "He can sleep in Bo's bed," he said. "If Ida doesn't mind."

Relief spread over Barbarossa's still very round and beardless face.

"I'll be right back," he said, and he quickly fetched a huge umbrella. Protected by its wide canopy, the three of them embarked on the long trek to the Campo Santa Margherita.

Scipio left his father's boat where he had moored it. A police boat noticed it two days later, and Dottor Ma.s.simo was notified that the boat he had reported stolen had reappeared. His son, however, whom the dottore dottore had also reported missing, was still lost without trace. had also reported missing, was still lost without trace.

47 Strange Visitors

Scipio had been right: The others were worried about Prosper. Terribly worried.

They all remembered his desperate expression during their last meal together, and how not even Hornet had been able to cheer him up. They tried to hide their worries from Bo as well as they could. Hornet tried to persuade him to stay with Lucia and the kittens instead of coming along with them to search for Prosper. But Bo just kept shaking his head and clinging to Victor's hand, and so they had to take him along.

First, they tried the Sandwirth again. Then they asked the Carabinieri, Carabinieri, the hospitals, and the orphanages. Giaco took Ida's boat up and down all the ca.n.a.ls and showed Prosper's picture to the gondoliers. Mosca and Riccio asked all the pa.s.sengers on the the hospitals, and the orphanages. Giaco took Ida's boat up and down all the ca.n.a.ls and showed Prosper's picture to the gondoliers. Mosca and Riccio asked all the pa.s.sengers on the vaporetti. vaporetti. But, as the rain came down and the sky turned black, they still could find no trace of Prosper. But, as the rain came down and the sky turned black, they still could find no trace of Prosper.

Ida and Hornet were the first to return to the house. They didn't know where else they could look. On the Campo Santa Margherita they met Victor, a soaked and sleeping Bo on his back. Ida only had to look Victor in the eyes to see that he had been just as unsuccessful as she had.

"Where can that boy be?" she sighed as she unlocked her door. "Lucia went to the old movie theater again. She should be back soon too."

Hornet was so tired that she leaned her head against Ida's shoulder. "Perhaps he stowed away on a ship," she mumbled. "And now he's far, far away already."

But Victor shook his head.

"I don't believe that," he said. "I'll put Bo to bed now, then I'll eat a little, have a gla.s.s of Ida's port, then go over to Dottor Ma.s.simo's again. Perhaps Scipio has heard something. I've tried to call at least a dozen times, but n.o.body's answering the phone."

Ida pushed the front door open. "Yes, that's a possibility," she said -- and stopped stock-still in the doorway.

"What is it?" Victor asked. But then he heard it too: voices, coming out of the kitchen.

"Giaco?" Victor asked, but Ida shook her head.

"He's gone to Murano."

"I could go in and check," Hornet whispered.

"No, that's my job!" Victor replied. He carefully put Bo down in a chair by the door. "You two stay here with Bo, while I go and have a look at our visitors. If there's trouble" -- he handed Ida his cell phone -- "call the police."

But Ida pa.s.sed the telephone on to Hornet. "I'm coming with you," she hissed. "They're sitting in my kitchen, after all."

Victor sighed, but didn't try to stop her. Hornet looked after them anxiously as they crept along the dark corridor.

The kitchen door stood open. Two boys and a tall man sat at the table on which Lucia rolled out her pasta dough. The tall man looked like a younger version of the honorable Dottor Ma.s.simo. The smaller of the two boys was not even as old as Bo. He was just about to reach for a half-empty bottle of port, which stood on the table, when the other boy took it away from him.

"Darn it, Prosper!" Victor cried out. "Have you any idea how long we've been looking for you?"

"h.e.l.lo, Victor!" Prosper pushed his chair back and looked at him, shamefaced. His left arm was in a sling.

The other two quickly put down their gla.s.ses, like children who have been caught doing something naughty. The young man even tried to hide his gla.s.s under the table, and spilled port all over his pants.

"How did you get in here?" Ida asked Prosper, not taking her eyes off his two companions.

"Lucia told me where she hides the spare key," Prosper answered in embarra.s.sment.

"Well, well, and now you've brought even more people into Ida's house." Victor glared suspiciously at the young man. "I bet your name is Ma.s.simo," he growled. "And what about the little midget there? Aren't there enough children in this house already?"

The little redhead rose unsteadily. He eyed Victor from head to toe and slurred drunkenly, "Midget? I am Ernes...o...b..rbarossa. I am an important man in this city. And who the devil, if I may ask, are you?"

Victor was astounded. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the young man pushed the redhead roughly back into his seat.

"Shut up, Barbarossa, or should I say, baby Barbarino. If you don't behave yourself we'll kick you out of the door. This is Victor, a friend of ours. And the lady next to him is Ida Spavento. This is her house."

Victor and Ida exchanged a stunned look.

"I'm sorry we brought the redbeard here, Ida," Prosper stammered. "And that he drank your port, but he didn't want to stay in his shop by himself. It's only for one night ..."

"In his shop?" Victor asked. "Darn it, Prosper, could you please explain what's going on?"

"We've given our word not to tell anyone about it," Prosper muttered, nervously tugging at the filthy cloth that was holding up his arm.

"Yes, we're really sorry, Victor," the young man said. Victor couldn't remember ever having seen such an impertinent grin on a grown-up's face. "But perhaps you'd like to guess who you're talking to. You've already had quite a good shot at the name."

Victor was spared having to answer. Somebody tugged at his sleeve, and when he looked over his shoulder, Hornet was standing behind him.

"What's going on?" she asked in a low voice while trying to peer inside the kitchen. She spotted Prosper and immediately pushed past Victor and Ida. She didn't even look at the boy with the red curls, or for that matter the young man leaning against Ida's table. She only had eyes for Prosper's injured arm.

"Where have you been?" she cried, anger and relief both ringing through her voice. "Where have you been, for G.o.d's sake? Have you any idea how worried we've been? You just disappear in the middle of the night ..." She had tears in her eyes.

Prosper opened his mouth and tried to say something, but Hornet wouldn't let him.

"We've been searching for you all over town. Mosca and Riccio are still out there!" she shouted. "And Lucia and Giaco. And Bo has been crying his eyes out. Not even Victor could calm him down ..."

"Bo?" Prosper had been avoiding Hornet's eyes, but now he looked at her incredulously, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "B-Bo?" he stammered. "But Bo's with Esther!"

"No, he isn't!" Hornet shouted. "But how would you you know -- going off and vanishing like that? And what happened to your arm?" know -- going off and vanishing like that? And what happened to your arm?"

Prosper didn't reply. He just looked at Victor.

"Don't look at me like that. Yes, your little brother ran away from Esther again," Victor said to him. "But not before he misbehaved so thoroughly that your aunt no longer thinks he's an angel. She doesn't want to see him again. Ever. Not him, and definitely not you. Those were her words. I'm supposed to find a decent Italian children's home for the two of you, should you ever reappear again. But she she won't have anything to do with either of you anymore." won't have anything to do with either of you anymore."

Prosper shook his head. "It's not possible!" he whispered.