The Plague Doctor's Daughter

12. Matteo

"Giovanna," Matteo whispered back as if calling out to a goddess, having no reason to doubt the answer.

She sat in silence, not offering any more details that would have made his inquisition any easier. While his weary body longed to get through this as quickly as possible in order to return to rest, in a way, Matteo respected her more for this.

"Why did you come in your father's stead, Giovanna?" he asked.

"It is the time of the plague. He was otherwise occupied."

"But impersonating a plague doctor—by a woman no less—is a crime. You must know this."

"I do, but the call was for the son of a patrician—"

"You don't care about me more than for the child of a fisherman. Why risk jail with such an apparent deception?"

"First, my disguise fooled not only the soldiers, but also your servants. You yourself were none the wiser until I removed my mask. It's through my own fault that I stayed long enough by your side to nearly fall asleep myself, which proves my second point. And that is, I would have just as readily gone to the house of a fisherman if I thought a life was on the line."

"So there is your confession then. Have you done this before? Do you often don the mask of a physician to—"

"No, no! This was the first time."

"Why now?"

She flinched at the question. "What?"

"You said it yourself. We are in the time of the plague. For months now, hundreds and then thousands of our fellow citizens have taken ill daily. Your father, like all the plague doctors within Venice, is much too scarce for the overwhelming need to heal, which means that he must be away from home often, even when he is needed elsewhere. So if you have never before stepped into his shoes until tonight, why did you do it now?"

"I . . . I—"

"Choose your words carefully because I can have the jailers keep you for a week or a year, and it all depends on your answer."

Dropping the mask to the floor, Giovanna sprang from her seat and threw herself at Matteo's feet. "Please, oh please. Take pity on me. I meant no harm. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone," she cried, leaning against his legs and burying her face under her arms.

Her closeness was unnerving, especially given her fragile state. Matteo now hated himself for threatening imprisonment. He would never do that to this girl, especially after she'd saved his life. But he couldn't look weak, and more importantly, he still wanted answers. So he had to take a different approach.

"Tell me: why did you stay when you knew it risked revealing your identity?"

With her head still bent over his knee, she sniffled. "I didn't know. I thought you were in a deeper sleep. Can I please just go home now?"

He wanted to say yes, he really did. But he had set himself on this path, and no there was no going back. "Only after you've answered my questions."

Jumping to her feet, she looked down at him with disgust. "And here I was thinking you were a man of honor."

Although her words stung, Matteo was more focused on the anger in her eyes in place of tears. "You weren't even really crying!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise.

"Of course I wasn't. How weak do you think I am? Not as weak as you, that's for certain," she said with a smirk, obviously enjoying his confusion. But her anger had also loosened her tongue, and she now readily spoke her mind. "Instead of holding an inquisition, dear son of a Procurator, you should be grateful that I came at all. Anyone else besides me or my father would have taken your symptoms at face value and sent you to the Lazaretto unnecessarily. What was merely a case of a meal not agreeing with your disposition would have undoubtedly turned into the plague in no time."