Venetian Justice

Early risers near the Porta Nomentana yesterday cannot have failed to see, or at least to hear, the cavalcade of horsemen clatter out of the city. Those who laid eyes upon them would see the Lion of St. Mark on the gonfaloniere’s banner. Those adept in the reading of such things might add that their livery suggested some branch of the powerful Venetian Corner family and that their badges also bore insignia of the east coast city of Pescara. This then, averred the more knowledgeable, was the entourage of Beltrano Corner, the Venetian Agent of Pescara. The man himself rode at their head, like a peacock armed for war.

The horsemen – around two dozen – paid as little attention to the ruffians holding the Nomentana Gate than they did when they arrived a few days before. A few hundred yards up the Via Nomentana, half a dozen peeled off to ride towards a the large heap of rubble, overgrown with thorns and thickets from which thrusts the pile of an ancient edifice. The wise claim it was part of an aqueduct that carried fresh water to the city in the days of the Caesars. They dismounted: some held the horses, others disappeared into the bushes.

The rest of the Venetians headed further along the Via Nomentana, before striking off to the south. Observers scratched their heads at this for all that lay in that direction was an old mill, abandoned generations before, that now lay derelict.

Meanwhile, in the part of the city where the Quirinale and Viminale hills meet, another score of Venetians, this time afoot and in the colours of Lorenzo Bembo, the Venetian Agent of Rome, approached the substantial ruins known as the Baths of Diocletian. Amongst them was a scruffily dressed creature that some recognised as a Roman street ruffian, who fled the city some years ago after cheating the wrong people. He may once have had a real name but was universally known as La Donnola – the Weasel.

As they reached the Baths, the Venetians fanned out to form a cordon. Weasel was thrust into the broken down gateway that marked the entrance to the complex. A while later he returned with four others. Two were disarmed and bound by the Venetians. The other two, an emaciated friar, who looked somewhat ill-used, and a young lady who looked a little dishevelled but seemed otherwise unharmed, were treated with more kindness. All were led away to the Venetian Agent’s residence. A dozen soldiers peeled off and marched to the Nomentana Gate where they loitered, doubtless to ensure that the gates stayed open for the return of their comrades.

A couple of hours later Corner’s men trotted back to the Nomentana Gate. They were leading a string of laden mules and dragging a handful of captives. They were joined by their comrades from the aqueduct ruins. Those searching the mill in the hope of salvaging something anything left behind, found only the buzzing of flies and the barking of feral dogs fighting over some fresh corpses. Two more were found by the aqueduct ruins.

The next day, Beltrano Corner led his men once more through the Porta Nomentana, with the pack mules and a half dozen prisoners, no doubt to face Venetian justice in Pescara.

Later that day a man was thrown out of the Venetian residence and onto the streets. It was Weasel, his face disfigured by the angry red mark of the branding iron. Most thought him a lucky man. The Venetians seldom show such mercy to those that steal from them.