1635 The Cannon Law: Chapter Sixteen

    “Your Eminence,” Quevedo said, bowing fulsomely.

    Borja choked down the first retort that came to mind, which would have been an ungracious comment that the man was at once late and improperly attired, and nodded in return, proffering his ring for the formal kiss. “Senor Quevedo y Villega,” he said, “what have you to report?”

    Quevedo took a seat a moment after Borja did—without being invited!—and cleared his throat. Ferrigno poised his pen. The matter had now gone beyond maintaining full and formal confidence, and Borja had taken to admitting Ferrigno into his meetings simply in order to have notes of what was going on. It was becoming fearfully complicated, between the dealing with the cardinals and other notables of Rome, receiving updates on His Majesty’s forces in the Kingdom of Naples, the reports from the spies with which Rome was now liberally infested, even more so than usual, and keeping track of Quevedo’s machinations. There was nothing for it but to bear the load, however. Above all else, he was a Borja, and that was a line that had never been found wanting where scheme and maneuver had been at issue. Still less could he flinch from the work where, as here, the work in hand was clearly God’s.

    He fixed Quevedo with his best glare. “Pray continue, Senor,” he said, at some length.

    “As the cardinal wishes,” Quevedo said, after a moment of bearing the cardinal’s regard without so much as a flinch. “During the course of the last week we have instigated three incidents of a serious nature, at the Lyncaean Institute, the palazzo Borghese and the Palazzo Barberini. Effort to suborn captains of militia continue and we hope to provoke another massacre soon. Also in hand is the production of broadsides and handbills linking the incidents to the Committee of Correspondence. We also seek to start rumours that the Committee is linked to the USE Embassy and further that they are also provoking the militia massacres in order to destabilize Rome and the church.”

    “The militia business is new,” Borja said. He still maintained his suspicions of Quevedo, even though over the last few weeks he had done all that was asked of him. There was always the danger, however, that the man would develop an uncomfortable amount of initiative at some inopportune moment.

    “Indeed, Your Eminence,” Quevedo said, “but the discontent that the fortuitous actions outside Grassi’s house provoked was most useful. We had volunteers for several incidents thereafter, and we hope to capitalise on that reaction. In the event that we can provoke full-scale disorder, popular hatred of the militia will be to Your Eminence’s advantage.”

    “And the prospect of full-scale disorder?” Borja was, he would admit to himself, impatient to have the business done with, and the amount of money that Quevedo had spent thus far on hiring ruffians for his business was eye-watering.

    “Thus far, Your Eminence, not much greater than when we began. We face a situation where the populace was labouring under no great burden of discontent, although the usual seasonal rise in food prices at this time of year will undoubtedly help us for a few weeks. [NOTE: This rather implies that we're later in spring than you originally wanted, verging on early summer. In order to get this messy enough, Q.s efforts as agitator need all the help they can get.] Bringing them to a mood of insurrection by spending money on them, Your Eminence, represents an exercise in futility. What we hope to achieve is a sufficiently bad reaction from the civil authorities that popular discontent will develop naturally.”

    “And the chances of that?” Borja asked, resisting the impulse to remind Quevedo that he had not asked for a lecture.

    “The same as the chances of the civil government of Rome doing something remarkably stupid, Your Eminence. I fear that Your Eminence’s best chance will be to pay for sufficient public disorder, which I must remind Your Eminence is very much not the same thing as popular disconent, that Your Eminence will have a pretext for the intervention Your Eminence has in prospect.”

    “I thank you for your most cogent analysis, Senor,” Borja said, fighting to keep sarcasm out of his voice. He had been resigned for some weeks to the fact that simply spending money on agitators would not produce the anarchy he was hoping for. His instructions from the Count-Duke were simply to hamstring the Barberini pope and ensure he could do nothing more to harm the interests of Spain. The promise of troops from Naples had been extracted by his own efforts, and could not be fulfilled easily beyond a few months away. Once matters proceeded against France, Spain’s strategic bases in Spain and Italy would be all but uncovered save for what was needed to suppress revolt and troops would be hard to come by for any purpose, no matter how high and holy. Not to mention that what troops were left in Naples would more than likely have their hands full; discontent there was genuine and naturally-occurring and the agitators of it were of a far more sincere character than Quevedo was ever likely to be. Even now that he had managed to quiet Osuna for a while with promises of future preferment and a few trifles in earnest of that preferment, there remained a most pestiferous infestation of malcontents.

    “Your Eminence is most welcome,” Quevedo said, “And I also am most pleased to able to report that the prospects of an intervention by the United States of Europe are now much improved.”

    “What?” The involvement of the heretics from Germany had been no part of his plans, other than as a target of mob violence if the providence of the Holy Spirit should be generous. Borja would take a frank and unalloyed pleasure in the sight of that den of vipers being made to scatter with a swarm of enraged ruffians on their heels.

    “The people of Rome are, like common folk everywhere, suspicious and untrusting of foreigners, Your Eminence. The sight of them meddling in the politics of Rome will provoke them, I am sure of it.”

    “And what have you done to bring the United States of Europe into the play?” Borja asked, almost dreading the answer.

    “Nothing, Your Eminence. It appears that Sanchez has involved himself of his own accord. I saw him questioning a pimp last night.”

    “A pimp?” Borja was now prepared to admit to himself that he was completely baffled by this turn of events.

    “A procurer of women for the purposes of prostitution, Your Eminence. Please accept my apologies for presuming that a churchman of your standing would be aware of the existence of such men.”

    Borja stared hard at Quevedo, but could detect no trace of sarcasm. “I am not so unworldly that I do not know what a pimp is, or what one does, Senor Quevedo. I requested enlightenment as to how it is we know Sanchez is involved from his conversation with a pimp. How do we know, for instance, that he was not transacting the ordinary business of such a fellow?"

    “If Your Eminence will forgive me, I have some prior knowledge of the character of Ruy Sanchez de Casador y Ortiz. It is the defining character of the man that he is honourable, almost to excess in certain matters, and he is engaged to be married to the moorish american woman. If there is one thing he was not doing it was engaging the services of a prostitute.”

    “And do we have information as to why he was actually speaking to this pimp?” Borja asked. “Did we, for example, overhear the conversation?”

    “I must ask Your Eminence’s forgiveness,” Quevedo said, “but my surmises are based on observations of Sanchez’s character and habits, and of his actions during the time I saw him. He was affecting some rudiments of disguise, sufficient that he would not be readily recognised at a distance by anyone who did not know him well. I myself did not pick him out for some considerable time, and was not certain of my identification of him until he called attention to himself. His voice, Your Eminence, was quite distinctive. His actions, in so far as I observed them, were that he was haunting a popular taverna close to the church of San Gioacchino, engaging the patrons in conversation. The taverna was too crowded for me to overhear every conversation, and as I have adverted to Your Eminence, I did not at first notice Sanchez' arrival."

    Too busy drinking and whoring, Borja thought, but kept the spiteful remark to himself. This was shaping up to be interesting. Sanchez was Bedmar's creature, and Borja had a personal dislike for the sarcastic little Andalusian. Anything that redounded to Bedmar's potential embarrassment was worth the listening for entertainment value alone.

    "Sanchez spent some time in conversation with a pimp known to me as a regular in that taverna," Quevedo continued.

    And you known to him as a regular customer no doubt, Borja silently added.

    "The pimp in question is a low and uncouth fellow even by the standards of such," Quevedo said, oblivious to Borja's silent commentary, "And is apt to grow insistent on the subject of his business. I gather that when he did so, Sanchez picked a fight with another patron in order to divert attention from his departure. The manner in which he did so was typically flamboyant, I must inform Your Eminence, and it was at this point that my identification was certain. The resulting disturbance embroiled the entire taverna, and Sanchez made his exit under cover of the fighting. I did not discern the moment at which he made good his escape, as the fighting spilled over into the part of the taverna where I was sitting and I was forced to defend myself."

    "Am I to presume you spoke to this pimp after the event?" Borja asked, picking up on Quevedo's obvious inference.

    Quevedo smiled slightly, in a smug manner that Borja found even more irritating than usual. "Your Eminence is most astute. The fellow was stunned in the fighting. It was a simple matter to pick him up from the floor after the brawl had subsided, revive him with cold water and ply him with strong drink. I received a full account. Sanchez was posing as a porter from Barcelona, in Rome with the retinue of one of the cardinals Your Eminence has summoned on his own business. I identified Sanchez to the man as an agent of the United States of Europe, and enough people saw the disguised Sanchez that when the rumour spreads, the sight of him in the company of Dottoressa Nichols will confirm the rumour that the United States is fomenting discord in Rome in an attempt to suborn the See of Rome for their own nefarious purposes. I suggested as much to the pimp, and I have no doubt that the rumour is already beginning to spread. Your Eminence may depend upon it that I made much of Sanchez' hand in the Venetian conspiracy."

    Borja realised that it would be ungenerous to begrudge Quevedo his smug expression, not least because there was a delicious irony in him, of all people, exploiting Sanchez' involvement in Bedmar's attempt to take Venice: Quevedo had been Osuna's man on the inside of that plot and had done just as much as Sanchez had, if not more. Irony aside, Quevedo had exploited a providential opportunity in a manner that would undoubtedly open up further opportunities to profit. If it became a matter of general gossip in Rome that the pope was somehow under the sway of the United States of Europe, for preference at the hands of that scheming Jew Nasi that styled himself a Don, much could be done to undo the harm that the Barberini had done to Spain's cause by publicly withdrawing his support. If, after all, he had been induced to do so by the machinations of a sinister Byzantine Jew ...

    Borja returned from his musings to ask Quevedo, "And what do you propose to do to further exploit this opportunity?"

    "For the moment, Your Eminence, I will, with your permission, observe closely and react to whatever actions Sanchez undertakes. I would remind Your Eminence of my earlier remarks regarding the natural development of popular dissent. It is seldom that attempts to force such matters past their proper pace prove fruitful. The disorder we are provoking will create a soil in which any seed of genuine dissent may prove fruitful, but it is in God's hands whether any such seeds fall on the ground we have prepared, Your Eminence."

    Borja nodded. It was as well to trust in Providence in such matters, for there was little that the agency of one man, or even a whole combination of men, could achieve. "I shall pray for the success of your efforts," he said, and realized that there was more. "I shall also thank God," he said, "for His having placed this opportunity in your path."

    "Your Eminence is most kind," Quevedo said. "I only hope that the Lord God Almighty saw fit to direct Sanchez' eye to where I sat."

    "Truly?" Borja said, intrigued, "Why so?"

    Quevedo's smile was impish in the extreme. "The man bears a grudge like no-one else I have ever known, Your Eminence. If he believes me to be involved in Your Eminence's business, he will stop at nothing to intervene and foil me. It is his rather, how shall I say this, rather rustic notion of hidalgo honour. As well the fact that he is a Catalan, a breed notorious for their touchiness, Your Eminence. I feel we may depend on Sanchez to worsen his own party's position quite unintentionally."

    Borja allowed himself a smile. "And, of course, he is Bedmar's man. And Bedmar is now firmly aligned with Flanders, and they in turn making overtures to the United States of Europe. The opportunities for placing the blame do rather multiply." He savoured the thoughts, for a moment, and then. "Senor Quevedo y Villegas, your work goes well, and I am indeed pleased. I thank you for your efforts, and shall indeed pray most earnestly that God grant you further successes. You may go."

    "Thank you, Your Eminence," Quevedo said, and with the proper formalities, left.