The Dead of Winter: Three gripping Tudor historical crime thriller novellas from a No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling fiction author by S. J. Parris

Author:S. J. Parris [Parris, S. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2020-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

A CHRISTMAS REQUIEM

Naples, December 1569

When they told me the Pope wanted to see me, my first thought was that it must be a joke. My second was that it must be a trap.

‘For God’s sake, Giordano Bruno.’ The prior paced the good Turkey carpet in his study, hands clasped behind his back, black-and-white robes whisking about his legs so that he resembled a giant magpie. I knew then that the matter was serious; only extreme frustration could provoke the prior to take the name of Our Lord in vain. It happened a lot when he dealt with me. ‘Can you not comprehend what an honour this is for our convent? That His Holiness should condescend to show interest in a friar from San Domenico Maggiore – and you only twenty-one years old, and from a family of no distinction? It’s a mark of God’s favour, and your reluctance is nothing short of disobedience.’

He stopped and fixed me with his corvine glare. I avoided his eye and looked instead at the hard December sky over Naples through the windows behind him.

‘Call it prudence, Most Reverend Prior,’ I said. ‘I can’t help wondering how His Holiness knows of me, and what he might have heard to prompt his interest.’

‘Oh, there is no mystery there,’ he said, resuming his steady steps. ‘Fra Agostino da Montalcino has the ear of one of the cardinals. It would seem you made a great impression on Fra Agostino during his recent visit to Naples, and he has been mentioning your name all over Rome. Word reached the Holy Father, and now here is your official invitation. I’m surprised you are not more animated by the prospect – I had thought you an ambitious young man.’ He arched one thin eyebrow as if challenging me to deny the charge.

‘Fra Agostino hates me,’ I said bluntly. ‘If my reputation in Rome is built on his reports, I’ll be walking straight into the arms of the Inquisition. And everyone knows Pope Pius V is …’ I let the sentence fall; even I had the sense not to insult the Pope to the prior of the most prestigious convent in Naples.

‘Zealous in his pursuit of purity,’ the prior finished for me. ‘Yes. Before he ascended the throne of St Peter, he was Grand Inquisitor. They say he still wears a hair shirt under his robes.’ The way he pursed his lips suggested that he considered such practices primitive, though he would never say as much. ‘And Fra Agostino did not hate you. He found you irritating, I grant, but he is hardly alone in that. It is entirely possible for someone to recognise and admire your intellectual gifts, Fra Giordano, even while finding you most infuriating in person.’

I sensed we were no longer talking about Fra Agostino, so I changed the subject.

‘I had hoped to visit my family for the Octave of Christmas.’

He made an exasperated noise and crossed to his desk, where he picked up and brandished the letter I had not been allowed to read.

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