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REQUITAL by Geneva Guiseppe steals a magic book from his employer. He uses it to make money, but his greed and deteriorating domestic situation ultimately lead him to disaster. This is a black story. There are no heroes. The minor character of the Contessa Anna in this story also appears in my story "Strange World", and is the major character in "Nun So Lovely". START From M. Robert Dumarche, Chief Warden of the City Prison, City of Marseille. To Chief Advocate, City of Marseille. Dear Sir, I have the honor of sending you these enclosed writings, which were found in the cell of the convicted murderer, the Italian Guiseppe Marchio. They spin a fantastic tale and are so totally unbelievable that they make one wonder about the prisoner's sanity. He has spun an incredible tale, integrating fact and what is plain fantasy. ............................ This began several years ago, in 1852, when I was twenty. It was late in the evening of a spring day. I was just about ready to blow out the candle and crawl into bed, and had barely undressed when I heard shouting, and a violent banging at the door of my hut. "Marchio, move your lazy bones!" It was my foreman Luigi Morelli. I groaned. What did he want now? He was forever finding one bit of work or another for me to do in the daytime. This was almost night. The cries got louder, "Hurry up! The mansion is on fire! We need all the men we can get!" I had no choice if I wanted to keep working here. I pulled on my clothes and rushed out. Already more estate workers were running to the d'Assandro mansion just along the path. I could not see any flames, but when I ran up I saw the female servants clustered by the foot of the entrance stairs, all looking shocked, some wailing. I was among the first to get there and the major domo, Enrico Franelli, directed me up the marble stairs and into the mansion. His face was white with near panic and he was wringing his hands. Along the hall, I saw the fire as a flickering orange glow through brown smoke. In minutes, Luigi had organized a team to pull water from the well and directed them to form a chain to pass buckets. I was at the end of the chain, where he had pushed me, right in the room with the fire. It was a small room, just off the main living area, furnished with some carpets, a few bits of furniture, a pianoforte and an unfinished tapestry on a frame, something that the Contessa Anna had been working on, I supposed. The fire was mainly in one corner, the flames starting to lick up the wooden paneling and blister the paint. I covered my face as a window shattered in the heat and let in some air. The smoke was getting very heavy, but, turning my face away from the heat, I threw the buckets of water, one after the other, as they were passed to me, onto the flames. With the hissing and steam and acrid smell I coughed and almost choked, but with several more buckets we had the fire under control, and then out. Franelli was trembling and wringing his hands. Perhaps he thought he would be blamed for the fire. "Such damage, and with the Conte and Contessa away too." He was right. The flooring was damaged, the carpet was probably ruined and the wooden paneling was badly scorched. The window would have to be replaced too. The whole room stank of smoke. There would be a smell of smoke in the rest of the house as well. I had heard that Conte Roberto was away with his family visiting a married daughter in Turin. Now they would come back to a house under repair. "Do you know how the fire started?" Luigi asked Franelli. He shook his head in disgust. "It was that stupid servant girl, Lucia. She had neglected to clean behind a chest in this room, so I made the housekeeper get her up out of bed to do it. She said she needed a lamp, but then the stupid girl, she must have been half asleep, knocked it over. A good thing I was there, as she now appears to have run off." He shook his head. "Good riddance to that stupid girl. If she hasn't run off, I will sack her anyway. She is lazy. I tried to put the fire out myself at first, but it got too strong." Luigi clapped me on the shoulder. "Good work, Guiseppe." He nodded at me. "I know I have been hard on you. I know I've called you lazy," he said quietly, "but you have done well tonight. I will mention it to the Conte." That was a relief. He had actually used my first name, rather than the usual curt Marchio of my family name, so he must have been satisfied with my efforts. Still, I had become a bit tired of old slave-driving Luigi, always pushing me on, not giving me time to rest. To tell the truth, I was beginning to get sick of the work on the estate. I had been born here, in my parent's hut right on the estate, where my father was a farm laborer, and my mother worked on and off in the mansion's kitchen. As a boy I had been continually kept busy with chores for my parents and errands round the d'Assandro estate. Then, as I matured, I had been set to adults' work. My parents and older brother had died about a year before, of a fever that was sweeping round the district. Most of the time the work was hard, dirty or boring and I wanted out of it. It would have helped if I could read or write or even count much beyond very simple addition, but my parents had been uneducated themselves and had not made me learn to read and it was unlikely I could better myself here. Perhaps if I had a trade, I could have got out of poverty but I had never had the chance of being apprenticed to anyone. I often wondered about running off to some other place, but with the low wages I got on the estate I had almost no money saved, and it was likely the conditions would not be any better elsewhere. I had been seeing a girl, the same Lucia who had started the fire, and I had wondered where our relationship would lead. She had hinted about us getting married sometime, but I was not sure. She could read and she had work at the mansion, but, as the major domo had said, she was lazy. Possibly she would be a bit better if she had her own household to run, but somehow I doubted it. Her parent's cottage had been dirty, untidy and littered with litter. If I married her I would probably have to beat her from time to time to get her to do her work. The thoughts of the fire and the d'Assandro mansion still ran through my mind the rest of that night and as I tossed and turned in my crude bed I wondered if I could put the events to my advantage. There was sure to be a lot of valuable stuff in the mansion. Laborers like me rarely saw anything of the house beyond the kitchen except when bringing in some produce from the farm. One window had burst with the fire, and would be a way I could get in and look around. The d'Assandros might have something worth stealing, like the candlesticks on the pianoforte. They looked as if they were made of solid silver. That might get me enough money to get away and get set up somewhere else. The next day Luigi and Franelli kept me busy with clearing stuff from the burned room and sorting out the damaged stuff. Some things were too badly damaged and would have to be scrapped. Some could go for repair to tradesmen or craftsmen, some more stuff for thorough washing in the kitchen or laundry. I got my opportunity while some others were maneuvering the pianoforte out of the room. I picked up one of the candlesticks and put it down behind some undamaged chests at the other side of the room. The rest of the day Luigi set us to pulling up the burned carpeting and any of the floorboards that would need replacement. By the time we were finished these it was getting late. "What about the wall paneling?" I asked. "We can leave that until tomorrow," said Luigi. " We have done enough for the day and it's getting dark." When I had set the candlestick down, I had noticed a small hidden door set into the paneling. The wood on one side had warped slightly, perhaps with the effect of the water, exposing the edge of a small door. I wondered if the Contessa Anna had hidden something away in it. I could investigate that too. That night I waited until midnight before I crept round the back of the mansion. The broken window was low and I was able to pick the remnants of the glass from the frame and climb in. I did not dare risk using a candle but the bright moonlight through the broken window gave me just enough light to see. I felt at the wall until I found the panel, and pressing it, I heard a click as it opened. It was dark and as I had no lamp I could only feel inside the cavity. There was a lot of dust, even some cobwebs, and what must have been dead insects but then my fingers touched a soft leather bag with a hard object inside. I pulled the bag out and felt around in the cavity but there was nothing else. I heard a noise from the rest of the mansion. Perhaps it was nothing, but as I was getting nervous I closed the panel, picked up the candlestick and, with the bag, climbed back out the window. Keeping my head low, I made my way to my hut. I covered my small window with a rag and examined my haul by the light of a candle. The candlestick was silver, and by its weight felt as if it was solid metal. If I could sell it I would get enough money to make a new start away from the estate. I untied the cord tying the bag and pulled out a small box. It had an ornate lock set into it, but unfortunately no key with it. When I shook it there was a sound like something sliding inside, and by its weight it seemed as if it contained something, I thought about prying the box open, but it was quite well made and would be worth more undamaged. When I shook the bag, a small key fell out and when I tried it in the lock it opened smoothly. I sighed in disappointment. All that the box contained was a small book, barely bigger than the palm of my hand. I cursed, all that effort for only a small box with a worn old book in it. Why on earth would the Contessa have bothered hiding that away? The book was in bad condition. It was covered with a dull yellow skin, and had only two score or so of pages, with faded writing. I looked at it. The pages were written in a strange blocky print like the Austrians used. Lombardy was part of the Austrian empire so I knew enough to recognize that it was a German type of lettering but I could not read any of it. I could not even read Italian so I did not know if the language was Italian, or German or some other. I hid the box, book and the candlestick under my bed, but thinking over it, I placed them instead in some loose thatch on my roof. If the theft were discovered I would be a suspect. Next day Luigi set me to tearing out damaged wall paneling. I got a shock when I saw my muddy footmarks near where I had been scrabbling in the hidden compartment the previous night, but I quickly scuffed them with my boots. Someone removed the other candlestick but did not notice that it had been one of a pair. The next morning we were ordered to clear the rest of the room, as it would need repainting once the damaged floor and paneling were replaced. That took most of the day and as we were clearing the last of the stuff, Franelli came around with a list in his hand and a pen, checking the remaining articles against it. "Looking for something?" I heard Luigi ask. "Yes, I can't find a candlestick. There should be a pair, but I can find only one." He scratched his chin. " Maybe the Contessa moved it earlier. She uses this room a lot. I will have a maid look in her chambers." He looked me up and down. "Marchio, you were friendly with that maid Lucia?" ""Yes," I said cautiously. "What of it?" "It looks as if she has run off. I can't find her. You haven't seen her?" "No sir." I shook my head. "Stupid girl! We are better rid of her. So are you! She would have been no fit wife for you." I managed to hide my cold sweat. I had already decided that I didn't really care much about Lucia, but it would be only a matter of a day or so before they realized the candlestick was missing, and question all of those who had been involved in clearing the room. They would have no hesitation about searching the men's quarters or cottages. It was time to get away. That night I waited again until all was quiet, then with a bundle containing my few other possessions, the candlestick and the box hidden in it, I slipped out of the estate, and skirting the village, got onto the main road heading to Genoa, the nearest seaport. It would be big enough to hide in, and away from Austrian territory. It would take several days to walk there. I hadn't enough money for any transportation, but often travelers could hitch rides on farm workers' carts. I walked away from the estate for about two hours, then settled down under some bushes at the roadside. As soon as it was light enough I ate some of my bread and took a drink from a small stream and set off again. I was about another two hours on the road when I saw a small figure in front of me. As I drew nearer there was something familiar about it, and as I got nearer still I saw it was Lucia. She was moving slowly and limping slightly. When I hailed her she stopped and cringed but waited until I caught up with her. She sank to her knees. "Guiseppe," she said. "Oh, did they send you after me. I'm so sorry. Please I don't want to go back there." She began crying. "No, I have left the estate too. There is nothing for me there. I am going to Genoa to see if I can get work there. Where are you going?" She shook her head. "I don't know, I just wanted away, but Guiseppe, maybe I can come with you?" I was not sure. We had been seeing each other, but she was limping, which would slow me down, and I would be responsible for her. I would have to share my food with her too. On the other hand, perhaps she might get work as a maid or washerwoman or something in Genoa and could support me for a bit. "All right. But what can you do there? You will need to work." "I know how to clean, and I have worked as a kitchen maid. I can also read a little," she said, her face lighting up. "Maybe that will help." Judging by her time at the d'Assandros she would not be much of a success as a maid, but I allowed her to come with me. We made it to Genoa in about a week. Mostly we slept in barns, and occasionally under bushes at the side of the road. I thought of satisfying myself with her, but she pleaded tiredness, and in truth, I was also tired and had lost any particular desire for her. On two of the days we were fortunate to get rides from farmers on their carts: the rest of the time we walked barefoot to save wear on our boots. When we crossed from Austrian controlled territory to the Kingdom of Sardinia, we sneaked through the fields to avoid awkward questions by the border guards on the road. In Genoa I went to a jeweler and offered him the candlestick. He eyed it suspiciously and offered me a fraction of what I am sure it was worth. He had taken so long inspecting it that I got nervous and I was about to walk out of the door when he made a better offer and I took that. It would keep us for a month or so and that would do until we got other work. Lucia had silently watched the negotiations, but as we left, she gave me a knowing look. "That candlestick was the d'Assandro's, wasn't it?" she said. "Yes," I replied, angry at my carelessness, "but keep quiet about it. Otherwise I will say you were in on the theft. Arson too!" She glared at me but said no more. With the money we were able to rent a room up three flights of stairs from a tavern, close to the harbor. We needed bedding, but a previous occupant of the dingy room had left some tattered blankets on the floor. Lucia thought they might have fleas so she dumped them in a pail of water for several hours then hung them to dry by the window. After a day or so settling in I opened the box and examined the book again. Perhaps someone in the harbor would know enough German to tell me about the writing in it. There were ships from all over Europe in the harbor and when I saw a small vessel from Hamburg, I asked several of the sailors working round it about reading German, but few understood my Italian and none of those who did could read. Finally I overheard a Genoese trader talking to the ship's captain in a language that I knew was not Italian, so, when he was done, I approached him. "Excuse me, sir. You read German?" "Yes," he said cautiously, looking me up and down. "So?" "I have something in a book. I think it is German, but I can't read. Could you read it for me? Tell me what's in it?" "My friend, that will cost you a drink!" He grinned and pointed to a tavern. We sat down at a bench in a corner with beer and I introduced myself. In a minute I pulled the book from my pocket and handed it to him. He squinted at it in the dim light. "It's old, looks like a pigskin cover. Bad condition too." His eyes narrowed. "Where did you get it? Now why would a laborer like you have a book like this?" "Uh, I found it lying in the room I have rented." He eyed me skeptically and grunted. He flicked open the pages and peered at the first. As I saw him mouthing the words, he began frowning, then, as he turned another page and began to read it, his eyes crinkled in merriment. He was grinning and chuckling after the next pages while I looked on in growing embarrassment. "Well, Guiseppe," he said. "I don't know where you got this and perhaps I don't care to ask, but it is quite amusing. The language is in German, as you thought. But there can't be any truth to the things here. I think it's a hoax, or something like it. At the beginning," he pointed to a page, "the German words say that it is a book of magic incantations or spells, which can cure all sorts of ailments if these spells are read out. So, if you have toothache, a harelip, a club foot, or hunchback, and so on, this book will cure them all. So it says!" He laughed again. "You say you found the book? Well, maybe, but if you paid money hoping to use the spells in it you were swindled. There is no such thing as magic. "You can't read German or maybe anything at all, I think." He pointed to the blocky writing. "But this is German, and in their strange way of writing letters. It's called a Gothic script. It tells what the supposed spells do," and he translated the instructions of the first spell slowly. It certainly sounded like nonsense. He pointed to the page facing the first. "Now, on the other side, facing that, I know a few languages, but I don't recognize this one. Although the words are written in Gothic letters, it's not German. It's not French or Spanish, or Greek. Certainly not Arabic either. Maybe the words make the sounds of the so-called spells, but they must be in some language that I don't know. A few words sound vaguely like Greek, but the rest?" He just shrugged. "And yet, it all seems very elaborate for a hoax. "You could take it to a bookseller. Maybe one will give you something for it as a curiosity. One of them might even have run across the language before." He rose and stretched. "Well, I thank you for the beer. Now, I will be off. Oh, just a word, Guiseppe, I'd be careful how you mention the book to anyone, especially a priest or anyone connected with the Church. There's no such thing as magic but some people still believe in it and the Church may not like you telling about even pretend magic. For the good of your health you should be very careful. Now, good day to you." I sat and thought about the book. Did magic exist? My grandparents or even my parents may have believed in it, but I certainly didn't. Yet, if the book only contained nonsense, why would the Contessa d'Assandro have kept it hidden away in a compartment? Why would she have it at all? I was able to sell the box at a market the next day for a small amount. I kept the book as I hoped it might be useful at some time. The next few weeks kept us busy. Lucia got work as a laundress, and I was hired by a ships' chandler at the docks. Both jobs were hard and demanding and we were very tired in the evenings. Lucia did the cooking of course, but her dishes were only just edible. We slept together only a mutual need. There was little love. It was some months later when I met Umberto in a tavern. He had been a clerk in charge of a library, but discharged for drunkenness. I discovered he knew several languages and I asked him to look at the book. His response was like the trader's, laughing at the supposed magical spells, but as he read through all of the pages, I saw his face changing to outright hilarity. "What is it?" I asked. Umberto wiped the tears of laughter off his fat jowls with a grubby handkerchief. "This supposed spell here, purports to change a man into a woman, a beautiful one, and here," he pointed to the next page, "the next one changes her back again. I can read the so-called instructions, but there are other words that just simply don't make sense. Maybe they are just mumbo-jumbo." He turned another page. "Oh well, why not? This is one to make a woman into a man," and he turned the last page. "Uh huh, yes, and then the man back to a woman again. Oh well, Guiseppe, someone had a good sense of humor." He peered at the book's cover through his spectacles. " I think it is quite old. It looks it." He looked closer at the yellowish hide cover and gave a low whistle. "Guiseppe, do you know what this is?" "It's leather isn't it, or some kind of hide?" "Yes, it is some hide I suppose, but I am almost certain this is tanned human skin. Your book may be quite old. You see, in former times they used to use the skin of executed criminals to cover books." I felt sick. I stared at the book trying to hold down my beer. Umberto grinned at me. "What? You are so fastidious? It's only a piece of hide, Guiseppe. Maybe it was put together by some charlatan as a supposed spell book to guile the unwary, those with illnesses, or deformities or such, and have them part with some money." He shook his head. "But why there would be so-called spells for changing men into women and so on, I don't know. I suppose there are some men would like to live as women, and women as men." He laughed. "I imagine the charlatan would have to escape more than a few times from those he persuaded to part with any money. "If you want, Guiseppe, I can translate the German words on the pages. Maybe you could pretend to cure diseases with the book and make some money from fools. But you can't read anyway!" He laughed at me. "No, but please, why don't you do that. Maybe for Lucia, so she can laugh at it too. She can read." I cursed as he went away. Getting Umberto to read the book had cost me the price of a large meal, several hours of boring, exhausting work at the chandlers. This stupid book, filled with nonsense, and yet, why was it hidden away? I would have to try to test it, but first, I'd need to be able to read. Of course, I did not tell Lucia about what Umberto had said, but that very night I persuaded her to start to teach me to read. I had never had an opportunity to learn to read when I was a boy. I am not sure if I would have had the patience either. It was very difficult, as there were different styles of writing and print to learn. There were capitals and small letters, and these were different shapes from the stuff printed in books. The Gothic letters in the Contessa's book would have been especially difficult. I was glad of Umberto's translation. My hands and fingers often got sore and cramped from trying to write the letters Lucia drew for me, and it took me weeks before I could read even simple things. Often I wanted to throw it all aside and go down to the tavern and get drunk. I worked too hard at the chandlers to have to spend hours by candlelight trying to read and write, but I was determined to be able to read the instructions in the book properly. If the spells actually worked, I could make a lot of money. I needed to control how to do it and that drove me on. In two months or so I could read as well as Lucia, and I practiced anywhere I could. Being able to read was like a new world opening up for me, suddenly being able to understand street signs and merchant signs. Once the chandler found out my new talent, he set me to working on his accounts. It actually paid a little better and it was not as hard physical work, although peering over accounts and letters, trying to make out what was said by other's bad writing gave me headaches. The hours were still as long, and perhaps even more boring, but my body no longer ached after each day's work. As my reading got better, I would pull out the Contessa's book to get to know it well and finally I was ready to try one of the spells. The actual spells made no sense. The words were unrecognizable so I would just have to sound them out. I got my chance when an infant playing in the street fell and scraped his knee on some gravel. His mother was busy with some housework and hadn't noticed his injury so I went upstairs, pulled the book out from its hiding place and turned to the page with the spell supposedly to heal cuts. I went back to the whimpering infant and to a background of sobs I lifted him onto a bench, read out the strange words, fumbling with the pronunciation, and watched him. I shook my head when nothing happened. So the book was useless! Had all of my effort learning to read been for nothing? Oh well, at least it had made me learn to read and perhaps it had given me a slightly better job. I was about to return the book to my room when the infant stopped crying, and as I watched, the graze stopped bleeding. I examined his knee. Before my eyes, the reddish open wound changed colour, as if new skin was rapidly forming round the edges. In another five minutes all that was visible was some pink new skin, only noticeable because of the tanned skin surrounding it. What would have taken weeks had healed within a few minutes! The child got up and ran off as if nothing had happened. I began trembling when I thought about what had happened. Here was proof that the book might really have magic powers. My brow was pounding and I shook my head to clear it. Now I would need to test all the other spells. If they worked, I might be able to make a lot of money from anyone with deformities, wounds and illnesses. I would have to be careful as any talents as a healer would soon get known and I would attract more business, but any hint of magic and the Church would clamp down on me, as I had been warned. I had an opportunity to test another spell the very next day. A group of sailors were drinking in the tavern and one appeared to be the center of attraction. I heard laughs and some words of sympathy from his shipmates, and caught the word toothache. I watched as the sailor, obviously in discomfort, drank his cool beer very carefully on one side of his mouth. My chance came when he went to the urinal and I could I could see him alone. I spoke to him. "I think can cure your toothache." " Oh, and who are you?" He looked at me suspiciously and hiccupped. "I am called Guiseppe. I think I can help you." He grinned through brown teeth. Many were missing. A ship's diet was not good for teeth. He would be ideal for my purposes because, as a sailor, he would be soon off on his boat. "Well, Guiseppe, I am called Paolo. Tell me, why do you want to help me? What's in it for you?" he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I just feel sorry for you. You can buy me a glass of wine if it works." I was more interested in testing the spell than in making some money. He still looked at me suspiciously, but then grinned, showing his yellow teeth. "Well, I have little to lose. This toothache is killing me. I may have to get someone to pull it out." "Wait here," I said," or better, in the alley at the back of the tavern," and in a few minutes I fetched the book from where I had hidden it in my mean room. "What's that?" He pointed at the book. "It's just something that gives me instructions. But it's in a foreign language." I read out the unfamiliar words of the spell, and then pretended to manipulate his jaw, trying to avoid his foul breath. I began to get worried when nothing happened at first. I saw his eyes take a threatening look when he winced and put his hand to his jaw, and grimaced. But then his eyes widened in surprise and in a minute a smile broke out over his face. He put some dirty fingers in his mouth and tested the tooth. "Marvelous! It is cured! I thank you, Guiseppe. My toothache seems to have gone. Come, let me buy you that wine!" "Just a favour, Paolo. Do not tell anyone what I did." "Very well, my friend, but you could do well with your healing." I sat with him drinking my wine, half-listening while he ramble on about his life at sea. I was actually thinking about what I could do with the book. That was now two of the spells had worked, and there were several dozen in the book. If all worked like the ones I had tried I might do well out of them. That evening I read through the book again. The four spells at the end intrigued me. These supposedly changed men into women or women into men and reversed these effects. I wondered what use they could be. I could see why a woman might want to change to a man, to get away from the drudgery of menial work as a servant or housework, always with the possibility or getting pregnant and then stuck with children and living in a smelly hovel. Not that a man's life was much better. Most men labored at dirty menial work, or endured long boring work as a tradesman or artisan. Only the rich had an acceptable life. I remembered that an English milord and his wife had spent some weeks at the d'Assandro mansion. Nice to have the leisure time and money to do that! I wondered if I could use the spell book to become rich. Perhaps the Contessa Anna had used it. The d'Assandros were well off, and I had been told that the family money had come down from Roberto's father, Lord Enrico. He had been known as a shrewd administrator, if a bit devious and ruthless. I would have to choose my clients carefully. The ordinary people might have many illnesses or problems that would be fixed by some spell or other, but they would not be able to pay very much. Rich people could pay well, but then word would get out about the book. They were also influential. However much I might pretend, some effects would appear miraculous, and the Church and its hierarchy kept a monopoly on miracles. If I was not careful I would make some powerful enemies and I could be accused of witchcraft. It might be useful to have influential friends. My other problem was Lucia. We lived together, and as we slept together she was beginning to make noises about getting married. On the other hand, I was become more tired of her. She was a slovenly housekeeper, and had stopped taking care of herself, even being careless about washing herself. She had never become pregnant, and I wasn't sure if I wanted children anyway, at least by her. In fact I would have abandoned her to her own devices, but she knew I had stolen the candlestick, and that I possessed a book that had belonged to the d'Assandros so if she felt any malice she could inform on me. I decided the best thing to do would be to marry her so I would have some better hold on her and at least know what she was doing. When I suggested marriage she was delighted and even tidied herself up a bit, at least for a week or two. I had little affection for her and she was a mediocre bed companion. I could get better satisfaction elsewhere. We had attended church irregularly since arriving at Genoa. I was uncomfortable attending in case someone discovered we were not married, but Lucia was happy to go. When we approached the priest, a Father Baglietto, about getting married he was shocked, and after giving us a stern lecture on our living together he agreed to marry us. When I offered him payment I saw an opportunity. He could not disguise how his eyes lit up. Here was a man that could be persuaded by the idea of money. I would just have to be careful when I made a serious approach to him. Just to be sure of the book, but also to get Baglietto involved, I tried another spell, this time on a young woman with a severe harelip. I had seen her with a couple that I took to be her parents walking near the harbor. I introduced myself and commented that perhaps a prayer at the church could remedy their daughter's deformity. The man was almost hostile at first but the woman was interested and he allowed himself to be persuaded to go with me to the church. I was taken aback when I saw a look of shock on Baglietto's face and he took me aside. "Guiseppe, what are you doing bringing these people here? Do you know who that man is?" "No, some visitor to the city?" "He is Jacques Guerin, a well-known criminal. He has been involved in prostitution here and in Marseille! Also in other criminal activities. His wife Cosette is involved with prostitution." I had no wish to get involved with a powerful criminal, but I now had no choice. "Well, perhaps he will take up honest employment now that I have brought him to church. I never told you, Father, but I have some ability to heal people. When in church." I added hastily. He looked at me in disbelief but I was committed and led the family past him to sit in the pews. When they were settled I asked the priest to give a small prayer. After that I took them aside, made the girl and her parents pledge to secrecy and read the spell that supposedly fixed harelips to her. It was like the others. The girl cried out and put her hand to her lip while her father glared at me. I was fairly confident of the book's power but I was still nervous with the way he looked at me. It only took a few minutes until the unsightly gap began to fill in and her lip swelled to become that of a normal young woman. When I let her see her new face in the mirror she burst out crying, but in happiness. Her parents were jubilant. She was now fairly pretty and I imagined she would soon attract men's attention and would marry. I had only wanted to test the spell, but her father offered me a generous amount of money. Although I could have used it myself, I had a better use for it, Baglietto. "No, no," I said. "It is the good father's prayer. Give the offering to him." Baglietto was amazed by what had happened, but recovered enough to accept the payment, especially when I suggested that he use it all for himself, and I carefully again commented that I seemed to be able to perform some small healing. I made no mention of the book, just that after prayer and laying hands on people I was able to fix some illnesses and deformities. He was rightly skeptical and very cautious, but I arranged another test in his presence with a young man with a deformed right arm. After I had Baglietto recite some prayers, I laid my hands on the man and read out the spell. This time I had hidden the small book in another religious tract. As before, nothing happened immediately, but I saw the young man gasp as the spell took effect. "My arm feels warm," he cried. The arm slowly straightened, the bone and muscle developing and the skin stretching until his right arm was just like his left. As in the previous time the young man was ecstatic and his parents were overcome with happiness. I carefully watched Baglietto's face. This was the test. Would he accept the use of the spells, or cry witchcraft? His jaw dropped visibly and his eyes went wide open. However I performed all the appropriate religious obeisances and told the ecstatic parents that the credit was due to Father Baglietto, his prayers, and the church. I also allowed him to take all of the money that the grateful parents offered. He confronted me when the parents had gone. "What is that? How can you perform these miracles?" I raised my hands, as if I was completely ignorant. "I don't know, but perhaps some saint is looking over us." He shook his head. "This is remarkable." When I saw Baglietto a week later he had new robes, and even looked better fed. I knew I had him hooked. He would be willing to take the profits from my use of the book, and would not be too concerned with scruples. I started quietly enough, just a few cures each month, each time burying the reading of the particular spell in some more orthodox religious ceremony at the church. Afterwards we would suggest that offerings would help our good work. I began to take a share of the revenue and then, as word got out, we began to get more and more clients, and richer ones too. Several weeks later Baglietto took me aside after I had fixed a badly scarred leg on a workman. "Guiseppe, there is something strange. I have been watching you and I see that you read from a small book each time you perform a miracle cure. What is this book?" I began to protest, but he held up his hand. "Don't lie. I can see that the book you carry around must contain some power that gives you the abilities of a powerful physician. It almost seems like magic," he said carefully. I held my finger to my lips as if to keep quiet. A shocked look flashed in his eyes and he sat down on a pew wringing his hands, but his avarice was not lessened. "All right, I will ask no more. If you want to keep it secret I can understand. However, you should know that my bishop has started to question me about all the cures that we are doing. Not surprisingly, they have attracted the attention of my superiors in the Church. I see that it is in my interests for us to keep this very discreet. It is in both of our interests, but I cannot protect you much if we are found out." I worried about what he had said, and deliberately kept the cures to only a few individuals per week. The small church now had a small but steady stream of visitors, all wanting cures for some or other ailment. I was very surprised when some cripples pronounced themselves cured, even though I had no part of it; the book had no spells for cripples and it was the same or some other ailments. Quite a few childless women began to talk about the beneficial effect of a prayer at the church for successful pregnancies, although the book had no spells for that either. We began to see visitors from not only Genoa, and occasionally from other Italian states. Now that I had him hooked I started letting Baglietto use the book and read out the spells. Of course, at the end of each session I made sure I got the book back. He wanted to keep it but I refused. I needed to keep the book under my own control. There was now enough money that I gave up work at the chandlers and took the role of first 'preparing' the visitors and then bringing them to the priest who would lead them in prayers and then recite the appropriate spell to them. We got so good at it that even a surprise visit by his bishop went off without suspicion. One day I was preparing two visitors when I saw a carriage stop in the street outside the church and a woman climbed out, helped by a footman. She was fashionably and expensively dressed so she was obviously some type of lady. That was encouraging. No doubt she would pay well for the cure of whatever malady afflicted her. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I forgot about it until I saw her standing at the door to my room, watching me. My heart jumped and I broke into a cold sweat when I recognized the Contessa d'Assandro. I had a woman with me and could not escape but the Contessa waited until I was finished and the woman had gone into the priest. As I looked vainly for a way to escape she came directly over to me. "Well, Signor Marchio," she said. "I have heard that this church has been acquiring a reputation for miracles. It seems that all sorts of ailments are cured here." I stumbled for words, turned red, and squirmed. She just looked at me coolly. My mind was running over my options. Would it be better to throw myself on her mercy and offer to return the book, or should I deny everything? "It is now some years since you left my employment, Signor Marchio, A pity I did not have the chance to bid you farewell, especially as I discovered I had lost a candlestick and another possession, a small box and its contents, after a fire." My knees were turning to jelly and I was about to throw myself to her feet when she spoke again. "Signor Marchio, I have been enquiring about the supposed miracles here and I know that you can do these because you stole a book from me. It is one that I wanted to keep hidden, and I see you have discovered that it has a number of spells. Most of these can be used for good and you are turning it to your own ends. Nevertheless, I think the good you are doing to those unfortunates outweighs your avarice." Her face showed a small expression of regret. "I should have used the book for those purposes myself when I had it, but I was negligent. I also had to be very careful. "So, I will leave you with it. I have no further need of it myself. I just advise you to use it for good. And, please, for your own safety, use the book very carefully and cautiously. If anyone in authority ever tries to take the book from you, destroy it if at all possible. The book's contents could be dangerous. Now, I wish you well." She inclined her head slightly, turned and left. It took me the rest of that day to stop shaking. She was the third person who had warned me about using the book. It had brought me some money and even more to the little church and even to the city, but my position was perilous. The Church hierarchy were aware of the 'miracles' supposedly originating at the small church. Some would believe they were genuine, but it only needed a more exacting examination to see that something like magic or witchcraft was involved. That would be rigorously stamped out. I needed to heed the Contessa's warning if at all possible and find another way to make money from the book. The beginning of the answer came soon after when I had another visit from the wife of Jacques Guerin, whose daughter I had treated earlier for the severe harelip. Cosette Guerin was a striking woman, but with a slightly harsh and calculating air about her. Her dress was rich and just a bit too flashy. "Signor Marchio, I was visiting the city again and came to give you my grateful thanks. You changed my daughter's life around. She is now married." "I wanted to ask you about that time you healed my daughter. I remember you read from a small book. I have asked some others who have been healed here, and they too remember a book. I wonder what that means?" I kept my face blank. "It must be the power of prayer, " I said. She looked at me skeptically and then around the church. "I see too that this church is doing well. Curing ills must be a profitable business." I was not sure of her, especially because of her criminal husband, and I only mouthed that I hoped that I was helping people. She snorted a bit and she gave a sarcastic laugh. "I saw you last night, Signor, at an establishment in which I have an interest." I began to redden. She had seen me at the brothel I had visited the night before. "Yes," she said. "I made enquiries about you and it seems you are a regular customer." She shrugged. "Don't be embarrassed. It's people like you keep my businesses in profit." I recognized her as a kind of kindred spirit, trying to make a profitable way in the world. It turned out that she herself was the new madame of the nearby brothel. She told me that the Guerin family had such establishments in Marseille, Toulon, Barcelona and other ports along the Mediterranean coast. "Maybe you can help me," she asked. "You will see many people here. I am looking for some new girls." She spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Some Frenchmen like Italian or Spanish girls. Just a touch more exotic. In fact we trade our girls along the coast. The one you used last night, Consuela, after all, was a Catalan." She had obviously been watching me. She looked around the room again and nodded. " Well. I'll leave you to your good works. Arrivederci, Signor Marchio." She held out her hand for me to kiss it, pretending she was a lady, no doubt. "If you see any girls that might be interested in my business, or, " she said carefully," any that might be suitable for working at it, you can contact me at the establishment. There might be some profit for you. We are willing to pay a good price for some fresh young girls." I thought about it that night. It would be a good way of making money. I saw many young girls in the church, but these would be too devout to consider work as whores, or too well protected to be abducted. In contrast, there were many unattached young men wandering around the area, all looking for work. Many were from outlying districts and had few family connections in the area. I suddenly sat up in bed, a smile slowly spreading over my face. I got up and rummaged for the book in its hiding place. I flipped to a page near the end and looked at its contents. Yes, it said that a spell there would make a man into a beautiful woman. So, if I could get a young man to read it, or have someone read it to him, I would have a fresh young woman. She would be totally disoriented, and of course in an excellent disguise in case anyone missed the former young man. Also, any girl would be more easily controlled than a man, and probably, being totally confused with her transformation, could be easily smuggled out to a French or Spanish port. Even to London or Amsterdam. There was always a demand for foreign girls in brothels. When I contacted Cosette and said I could probably supply girls, she was very interested and offered an excellent price. Although I had used many of the healing spells at the church, I had never used this spell. I wondered how I could do this as its instructions said that all men who heard it would be affected. I could not do it so I would have to get Lucia to help. She was unwilling at first, but after I told her what Cosette would pay for any girls, she was quite enthusiastic. We decided to try it out on a young man, almost a boy, who had appeared in the neighborhood just some days before. He had no visible family connections in the area and was obviously a bit slow witted and barely supported himself with menial jobs around the harbor. I brought him up to our room and sat him down with a glass of wine. I tried to make conversation to him but he just grinned at me slackly and I gave up. I brought out the book from its hiding place, pointed the right pages to Lucia and then left. I fretted about nervously downstairs but it was only a few minutes before Lucia called me. She shook her head. "I don't think it has worked. He is showing no effect." I climbed upstairs to my room and looked at the boy. He was barely mature. There was only a trace of fine dark hair on his jaws. He was sitting quite happily with a cup of wine and cramming his face with some bread and cheese. I cursed under my breath, but as I was about to pull him up and throw him out, he began shivering and slumped down in the chair. I cursed again. It was a warm day so either he was feeling the effects of the wine, or had become ill. Now I would have to drag or carry him downstairs. He gave a groan and more violent shivering and slid to the floor unconscious. Then Lucia gave a small cry and shivered. " I feel cold!" It was then that I realized the spell was working. The spell must begin with the person shivering before the change really started. I handed Lucia a cup of wine and made her lie down on the bed. The boy was now completely unconscious. I wanted to watch him but Lucia started an irritating moaning. I had to continually switch my attention from the one to the other. Lucia looked pale and shivery but was still conscious. "I feel different," she complained. " My body tingles a bit." She got to her feet staggered unsteadily over to a mirror on our wall. "It feels strange. It is like something is running over all of my body and my face," she whimpered. I cursed again. I wondered how the spell would affect a woman. If Lucia changed to man that would make it awkward. But as I watched, perhaps her face rippled a bit or perhaps it was just her trembling with nervousness, she began to change subtly. Every so often she would clutch at her face, or breasts and waist, or pull her arms close to her chest as if she was cold. The boy's skin too began to ripple. There were changes starting there. I looked back at Lucia. Yes, she was changing subtly and was getting more attractive, but I had something else to think about. I left her to her own devices and returned to the boy. As I watched, he began a series of rapid little tremors so that his face began to almost shimmer. I pulled off his rags until he was completely naked and I saw his body shimmer too, as if waves or ripples were running through it from head to toe and out to his fingertips. Lucia was still shivering slightly, but looked comfortable enough on the bed. Her appearance had definitely improved. I looked back to the boy again. Over the next hour the body below me gradually changed, the penis and scrotum shrinking and disappearing into the body, the shoulders and waist narrowing and the hips broadening. The hands and feet shrank slightly and the limbs became slimmer and rounder. The eyebrows and the male features softened and the adams apple disappeared. Finally, the nipples and the surrounding darker skin became larger and began to be pushed out by breasts swelling from the chest, while a cleft opened at the base of the belly. When I heard Lucia make a grunt. I turned to her. Her shivering had stopped. She suddenly sat up in bed, put her feet on the floor and stood up. She ran her hands over her body. A different expression took her face, of pleasant surprise. She gave a squeal of pleasure. "Guiseppe, look, my face has changed and see, my waist is slimmer! Oh," and she held her hands first round her waist and then on her breasts. " My breasts are firmer, higher too! Just look!" She held her hands under her breasts and paraded round the room. She really had changed. It was as if her eyes sparkled more, her face was more regular and her figure more curved. Her whole body just seemed more graceful and feminine. She preened before a mirror, holding her head this way and that. So the spell had worked on her too. "You have changed too," I croaked, stating the obvious. Lucia had been reasonably pretty when I first knew her, but over the last year she had begun to put on weight and her features had become coarser. Now she was quite a beauty. "Look at him." I pointed to the figure that had been a boy, but was now a young woman, "or maybe I should now say 'her', don't you think?" The figure was completely female, and quite pretty too, although her appearance was spoiled by a shadow of dark hair on her chin and lips. I wondered if it would affect her value, but this new girl was probably destined for a brothel in Marseille, and I doubted if the sailors and dockworkers would be bothered with a few hairs on the face with such a well figured body underneath. Lucia studied the unconscious figure below her, prodding the breasts then parting the legs. She shook her head in wonderment. "Look at that!" She held back the outer folds of reddish flesh and I saw more folds and a delicate opening. "It's a girl," she whispered. "Too bad the face is blotchy. She is not nearly as pretty as me," she sniffed. I felt at them myself, savoring the firmness of the girl's breasts and the pretty pale brown nipples. I probed at the female parts too until I saw Lucia glaring at me. I thought that the figure was at least the match of Lucia's but I had to agree about the face. When I contacted Cosette again, she was pleased that I had a girl for her, but told me she would not have space on any of the Guerin boats for some days. It was dangerous to have the girl at my place and I pleaded with her to hide the new girl in the brothel, but she only agreed when I dropped my price. The next day I was on tenterhooks in case the girl woke up and began screaming. I got a supply of laudanum in case I had to keep her quiet, but she was still unconscious when I finally smuggled her into the brothel by the back door. I had borrowed a cart and hid the girl under a cloth and some straw. Cosette took her time examining the unconscious girl, prodding at her body, squeezing her breasts and examining between her legs. "I see she is a virgin. That's good." She scowled at me. "She has a nice body also, but look at her face," she complained. "It could be pretty, but it has red marks, and look at her lips too. She has the beginnings of a mustache!" she grumbled. "Worst, she is unconscious. When will she wake up? What has happened to her that she is unconscious? What if she dies? I'd lose money on this deal." I was getting tired of this. It was like haggling in the market for a piece of meat. " Never mind why she is unconscious. If she dies then you can push her overboard when the boat is at sea, " I snapped. "This whole business is too risky for me. You have space here and no one is likely to come looking. So do you want her or not? If not I will take her away." I made as if to bundle the girl back in the cart. If the worst came to the worst I could always use the reverse spell on her. She would be half witted anyway and no one would pay much attention to her story if she woke up again as a man. "No, no, don't be so hasty. You don't have to take her away." Cosette protested. "No, the girl will be fine." I saw the disappointment in her eyes that she might miss out on getting some beautiful girls for her establishment and she eventually agreed to pay me what we had agreed on. I still went home in a bad mood. I had taken a risk with the boy and I was not sure if the result was worth it. The spell was for making men into women, but I thought of the effect on Lucia. It obviously acted on women too, making them more beautiful. That would be a better way to make money. Maybe I could use it on some plain looking girls. They would pay well to be more beautiful even if I did not kidnap them and send them off. Any unattached ones could be fair game for passing on to Cosette but as women did not become unconscious I would have to drug them to keep them quiet. I was surprised when I had a visit from Cosette two days afterwards. I wondered if she had come to complain again but her attitude was much better. "Guiseppe, I have news for you. That girl you gave to me. She woke up finally. She was moaning and I had to drug her to keep her quiet, but I have to say, she is a real beauty," she said grudgingly. "Her face lost its redness quite fast, and the fine hairs on her lips and chin have fallen out. She is actually quite beautiful now. Our clientele will pay well to use her." "Then you can pay me what we agree on without haggling," I growled at her. She hesitated but then nodded. "I will, but you must get me more like her. Ones just as pretty as her." We were lucky the next time. A young man and his wife had come to the church looking for help for her to conceive. They were new in Genoa and had no nearby relatives. Instead I invited them to our room and had Lucia read the spell to them while I kept out of earshot. It took longer than I expected, but the young man began to shiver after some minutes, at first slightly, then uncontrollably and eventually fell unconscious. His wife started screaming and then fainted, so I did not have to drug her. We tied her to a chair and gagged her and watched as the spell took its effect on them both. The woman woke up but began screaming again under her gag when she saw the effects start on her husband. I had removed his clothes the better to see the spell working and besides, I could sell them. She herself was shivering slightly. She pulled at her ropes as his body rippled and the changes began. She still tried to scream so I forced a strong draught of laudanum on her and she soon fell in to a drugged sleep while her own body began its more subtle changes. She had been pretty enough, but in an hour she was quite a beauty. Her face changed, with higher cheekbones, and a daintier nose. Her body was subtly reshaped, giving her higher breasts, narrower waist, longer legs, and a more curved figure. Over two hours the man's body and face had become completely a woman's, and was still deeply unconscious. I passed the pair on to Cosette that night. I thought about the effects of the spell. It looked now as if women hearing the spell did not become unconscious, but were still made into beauties. Men would be changed into beautiful women too, but be unconscious for about two days. That seemed reasonable. Their bodies had to endure a much more drastic change. "They were both screamers," Cosette said when I met her again. "We had to keep them drugged and gagged before we put them on a ship to Toulon, but they are real beauties. Our clients will pay a lot to use them. You know, if you get more like these there will be a lot of money for you." So, about every month, depending on the opportunities, Lucia and I used the spell on young men, or occasionally on young women. We would befriend them and if there were no family ties in Genoa we would get them drunk or occasionally drug them. Lucia would read the spell to them and in a day or so we would pass them to Cosette or one of her accomplices. We were paid well and soon we were getting quite rich. Life was looking good. The cures at the church made quite a bit of money too, but I had to share it with Baglietto. This revenue from the girls was all mine. In fact in some months I had made enough money to move into a house. It was quite secluded, but right on the coast, and with a cellar that would be useful for keeping the girls until they could be smuggled out. No one noticed that young people were disappearing. There were too many transients in Genoa. One day I had just finished with Olympia, a Greek girl, one of those at Cosette's establishment when Cosette beckoned to me. "So, was she to your satisfaction? You seem to ask for her a lot." "Yes, She was as good as always." "Good! We like to keep our customers happy. Now, Guiseppe, can I speak with you for a bit? A glass of wine?" I sat down in her office with her and relaxed on a chair. "Guiseppe, I have noticed that most of the girls you supply, the ones that are unconscious, wake up denying that they are women. They say they are really men. So we have to spend quite a time breaking them in. There is something strange here. You cured my daughter with a magic book. I know you use the book for your cures at the church. Does that same magic book have anything to do with these girls?" "Yes, as you guessed, I have a book with many magic spells. There is even a spell that would reverse the one that makes these girls." "Where did this book come from?" "Better you not know, " I said. But she just looked at me and nodded. "Ah well, I will not ask any more. Your secret will be safe with me as I will always be grateful to you for what you did for my daughter. She is now married and I have grandchildren, thanks to you, or your book," she added. "You know, I would pay well for that book." "It's not for sale," I said. No, the book was bringing me a comfortable amount of money. When I went into the church a week or so later, Baglietto was in a near panic. "Guiseppe, I have heard that at we are to get a visit from some higher-ups in the Church. There have been more questions raised about the miracles we perform. They are going to make a very thorough investigation. What do we do?" he whined. I felt a sense of dread and my stomach hollowed. "We could just get out of here," I said. Or at least I thought of how I could escape. Perhaps I could get passage on one of the Guerin boats and move to Marseille and start again. We absolutely could not have the book visible or even recite from it when we performed our cures at the church. It would be spotted immediately and we would be in deep trouble. I was not concerned about the priest or even Lucia. I just wanted to save my own skin and to get out on one of the Guerin boats. I even talked to one of Cosette's hirelings, a Neapolitan called Julio Santini, about getting out but a storm blew up off the coast and affected shipping so I was stuck. There was no way I could run away. I talked it over with Baglietto." It doesn't look as if we can get away, but I've been thinking we could just go through our usual procedures, but not use the book. If the miracles do not happen, then so be it. Perhaps we could blame it on the test. After all, faith should not be tested like that. Don't they keep telling us that?" Baglietto gave a sick smile, but swallowing, agreed to go along with it. We were incredibly lucky. The visitors this time were a boy with a limp, a woman suffering from pain in her shoulder, and a woman who had come to give thanks that she had finally conceived after seven childless years. Three priests, two older men and another younger one had been sent to examine the 'miracles'. They watched me carefully as I prepared the boy and the woman as usual. I then led them to Baglietto who recited an appropriate prayer but of course, without the book. I almost collapsed with relief when in a few minutes both the boy and woman pronounced they felt much better. The examiners still looked sceptical, but when I let the pregnant woman into the room, she could not have played her part better if she had been coached. She was effusive of the 'shrine' as she called it, and its help and Baglietto's prayers. The two older examiners looked very pleased. I could not read the face of the younger man. Later that evening we were summoned to their room. My stomach was hollow, and Baglietto was trembling. I wished he had held his hands on the chair to stop their shaking. I looked at the door. It had been left open and there were no guards. If things went badly I could perhaps dash through it and make my escape from Genoa. One of the senior priests actually smiled at us over his lunettes, then read from his report. "We have looked at the events here, and feel that we are blessed. There are good things happening here. Whether they are miracles will have to be seen, but we are seeing some wonderful cures." He rambled on a bit more but I was so relieved that I barely heard him. However, I was not so sure about the younger one. His face remained impassive and his eyes were watching us carefully. Finally, after a prayer, we were dismissed, but the younger one walked out with us. "I am not sure what is going on here. Certainly some great cures, things that seem like miracles have been reported, but I suspect that something is wrong. Another thing, when it became known that we were going to investigate the happenings here, we came under some pressure from the Genoa administrators, as this chapel and the goings on have attracted some trade to the port. We have had many letters in support of this church from merchants. I hear that some call it a shrine. So," he grimaced," it has been suggested that we take a favorable view of the events here. I am still suspicious, but I will go along with the findings of my two colleagues. "The Church has even received a letter from a lady in Lombardy, the Contessa Anna d'Assandro, in your support. She seems convinced of the validity of the miracles. I gather that she visited here in the past. Because the d'Assandros are an influential family I will go along with their wishes, but I will keep an interest in what transpires here in the future. If there is something other than true miracles, I will find out and take swift action. I suggest you think carefully about what you are doing." " These miracles are not my doing. Monsignor." I tried to say it as unctiously as I could. "It must be the power of prayer, the saint, the Church or something like it." "Yes, perhaps," he said evenly, but his eyes showed me he did not believe it. "A pity we