Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy Page 8

  “Hello, brother.” My sister had appeared in the room. She was wearing an evening gown which hung from her thin frame.

  I pushed the plate her way. “You need this more than I. Look how skinny you’ve become!”

  “Stop it!” she yelled, then laughed at me. “Any luck on the case? I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

  Contrary to what I told Pietro, anything I learned during my investigations I passed on to my family. This included the rumors of Carlo, the ganea, and my conversation with Liam.

  “And this apprentice was there during all of this? Do you trust this man?” It sounded funny hearing her referring to Pietro in this way, since he was more than three years her senior. But she was an old soul, and acted as though everyone was less mature than her.

  “That couldn’t be helped. I have faith in him though. He’s afraid, more than ever now thanks to Liam.” I chuckled at the thought of the wide-eyed look Pietro had given me earlier. “He’s timid, but only because he’s learning. He’ll come into his own in time.”

  “So what of this elite gambling club or whatever you call it?”

  “The ganea?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t have anything to go on now, but I’m waiting to hear from Liam. I don’t expect much.”

  “Ah, your old drinking friend. I remember him.”

  “You were tiny. You couldn’t possibly remember him.”

  “I remember the trouble the two of you would get into. We all knew about it. And I have ways of finding out what you’re up to!”

  I could imagine her rummaging through my room while I was away. “You little snoop!” I’d never even thought about it before.

  “Hey! Don’t blame me. Someone has to look out for my big, dumb brother.” She smiled sweetly.

  I finished the plate and picked up the dish. “Whatever, off to bed with you.”

  “Don’t get into trouble,” she said before sneaking back upstairs. “I can only cover for you so many times.”

  8

  I managed to corner Jacopo first thing in the morning. He was on his way out to lead a patrol through the heart of the city when I happened to intercept him.

  “Mercurio, I was hoping to run into you.”

  I saluted, then said, “Yes, and I you. I needed to discuss the Neri investigation with you.”

  “I’m listening.” We walked down the corridor, toward the steps outside.

  “So far there are a couple likely scenarios. The first involves a usurer named Il Coltello who Ugo seemed to have owed a great deal of money to. This usurer has been building what appears to be a small empire in Florence and is causing a great deal of distress. He is a violent man and I think, whether he killed Ugo or not, he should be apprehended.”

  Jacopo’s face was impassive. He nodded. “I see. Do you think you can locate him?”

  “I already have a lead, I’m just waiting for more information from one of my informants.”

  We stepped into the courtyard where several stern-faced men in splendid livery were already waiting to meet with Jacopo. He ignored them momentarily.

  “And what of these other scenarios you mentioned?”

  “It turns out that Ugo was a member of the Albizzi party. In fact, the Neri house was a frequent meeting place for the militia.”

  “So you think that this murder might have been political?” He’d stopped walking, and stood still with his arms crossed.

  “Some of the evidence we’ve uncovered points to that, but as I’ve said before I think that this was personal.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well for one thing, when we investigated Ugo’s room at the Neri house we found that it had been searched. One of the things we noticed was that his mattress had been cut open, and its insides were tossed about. Also, one of the neighbors claimed to have seen one of Il Coltello’s lackeys in the area prior to the attack.”

  Jacopo turned to face me. “Well I’d say that sounds pretty convincing. Do you and your men have anything to go on for now?”

  “No. Like I said, I’m in the process of putting together a plan to capture this usurer but am waiting on more information.”

  “That’s good,” said Jacopo. “I need you and your men to help me in the meantime. You’ve probably seen or at least heard, but we’ve got a serious situation. Tension is high and the people are demanding that war be declared on Milan. I need you to help keep the peace. This is dumb work but we need the bodies, can you handle that?”

  I shrugged. “Anything I can do to help.”

  In anticipation of the riots, the captain of the Bargello had split the city into two for each of the two commanders. Jacopo would be in charge of the Oltrarno and a large portion of the eastern side of the city. His counterpart would receive most of the northern bank of the river, including the Borgo Ognissanti, and everything west of the Palazzo della Signoria.

  I found myself assigned to an area in Santo Spirito quarter in the parish of San Frediano, where I commanded a force of about two dozen men. This force was split even further into groups of three or four, all within short distance of one another at various checkpoints throughout our zone. While the others would remain at their posts, I was nearly constantly on the move between each in order to receive status updates and to pass along messages to the other groups. Pietro proved to be invaluable for the latter task.

  The days were hectic as we fought to maintain order. The rioters had whipped themselves into a frenzy and were relentless. Anger dominated the city, and as soon as one outbreak was put down another would take its place somewhere else. It took all my focus to manage my men effectively, but they were reliable and well-disciplined and that made my task easier.

  I was en route to a meeting with Jacopo when my attention was broken by a familiar voice.

  “Mercurio.”

  At first I saw no one. I had just passed beneath a lamp, and my night vision was marred with a bright yellow spot that obscured most shadowy things.

  “Who is there?”

  “Liam. I have news for you.”

  Tired as I was, hearing this caused me to forget briefly how badly I needed rest. “What did you find out,” I said. My lips felt pithy, barely able to blurt out the words.

  “The location of the ganea rendezvous. It’s in two days.”

  “How on earth did you –“

  “That I can’t tell you, my friend. There are some secrets that need to remain that way. You know how it is.” He smiled.

  “Indeed I do,” I said bluntly. “So what do I need to do?”

  “There’s a vineyard about a ten minute hike from the Porta Romana. You just get yourself over there as soon after sundown as you can. Bring something fancy to wear, and of course a disguise. Something venetian, if you have such a thing.”

  “How will I know when I’m nearby?”

  “Keep your ears and eyes open, you won’t miss it. Is your young friend joining us?”

  “Pietro? I haven’t decided. “

  “Bring him. He’s a good lad. We’ll need all the help we can manage anyway. Unless you have someone else you’re thinking of bringing along.”

  “No. This needs to remain between us, and the fewer that know about it the better.”

  “Aye. Well I’ll leave you to it then. See you in a couple days.”

  I started to walk away but stopped. “Don’t get caught by the night watch, Liam.”

  His voice was a barely audible whisper. “Don’t worry about me. Moving things in, out and around this city is my bread and butter. And that includes myself.”

  I didn’t hear another word or footstep. He had already completely vanished.

  The next day was an utter blur to me. Riots were still popping up at random locations. A large one had occurred at the foot of the Signoria herself, but was broken apart and forced to fall back with relative ease.

  So absorbed was I by the civil turmoil that I nearly forgot about the meeting the night before it was supposed to take place. I sig
naled to Pietro to meet with me.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Pietro, I received word from Liam.”

  “I was wondering if we’d ever hear from him in the middle of all this.”

  “I had my doubts too. But he tracked me down last night to tell me. We need to be outside the Porta Romana before it closes for the night tomorrow. Bring something fancy to wear, remember that this is an elite gathering.”

  Pietro nodded. “And a disguise. I can handle that. How are we going to get away from the others so we can make the meeting?”

  I still needed time to think about that. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know tomorrow. Now, not another word about this.”

  “Si, capo.”

  The following morning started out refreshingly peaceful. There were far fewer outbursts, hardly any incidents of unrest. Some were even venturing out of their homes again. Goods had continued to arrive throughout the entire situation but there were backlogs and missed deadlines everywhere, evidenced by piles of unattended raw goods and angry drivers leaving the city with empty carts.

  Delays at the gates also infuriated the shippers, especially those trying to enter the city. Guards took great care in trying to ensure that no enemy soldiers or armed men from the country were allowed to enter. This included searching wagons for men attempting to sneak in in modo greco. Those leaving, on the other hand, were barely given a second glance.

  I patted a small satchel tucked neatly under my tunic. It contained my outfit for the night and a masque from one of my brother’s and my romps in the Veneto. I hoped it would bring me luck tonight. It certainly did back then.

  Things continued to go smoothly for most of the day. It was halfway between sext and vespers, an hour before sunset, when they started to go awry. On the other side of the river, huge flames sprung from the city center. I spotted a messenger in the distance, running straight for us.

  “What’s going on?” I asked sharply.

  The young man was out of breath but he managed to get the words out. “The Milanese embassy is burning and the ambassadors have escaped. There is a large uprising now, bring all your men to the Piazza della Signoria at once!”

  I turned to my men. “Avanti! To the Signoria!”

  The guards grunted in affirmation and we made way as quickly as we could to the city square. As we neared it we found a huge body of people, all angry and shouting. There were many fights in the midst of the crowd, members turning on one another. Behind the crowd, several blocks back, the smoldering remains of the embassy continued to pour columns of smoke into the sky while staining the air red.

  “Hold the line, and be careful. Evenly spaced.” I tried to look imposing, my right hand resting on the hilt of my sheathed sword.

  At least the ire of the demonstrators was directed at the duke and not the local government. For now, anyway. Now they wanted a response from the Signoria on what it would do.

  Soon we heard a number of trumpets blow loudly from atop the palazzo. The noise was deafening, like the cries of archangels at the Last Judgment. The crowd stopped, stupefied.

  From the steps of the palazzo now stood an official crier carrying a note. The crowd was hushed as he cleared his throat and began.

  “Citizens of the Great Republic of Florence, your anger and your cries have been heard. Our neighbors to the north, governed by Duke Filippo Maria Visconti, have committed an affront to the peace and sustainability of our glorious state. The Duke has violated treaty after treaty, ignoring law and custom while serving his own vanity by attempting to rebuild his father’s empire.

  “The ruling council of gonfalonieri of Florence has taken note of these hostile acts and has made the following pronouncement: in accordance with our rights and duties afforded to us by our sovereignty, a ten-member council will be selected by day’s end to begin planning for war. This Ten of War will be selected in the usual manner, randomly amongst all guilded members of the Florentine community.

  “This decision was not made lightly, but in response to recent hostilities perpetrated by the Visconti dominion. Know that your voices were heard, and your wishes will be put into official action. May the Lord bless you, and long live the Republic of Florence.”

  Cheers swelled from the crowd. Men and women chanted and sang praise to the Signoria. In a flash the riots were over and the masses of people were celebrating in the streets. The tension was broken, at least for now.

  I sighed, and looked at Pietro. “We’d better get to the gates.”

  He looked alarmed for a moment. “I’d almost forgotten!”

  Turning to the other men, I said, “Mind the crowd and make sure they disperse safely. My assistant and I are going to do a patrol and then call it a night.”

  “Aye, ser,” said one of my subordinates.

  Pietro and I split from the group, heading to the southernmost city gate. The last beams of light were peaking over the hills, and the gates would be locked shortly. We hurried and, at one point, managed to hitch a ride on an outgoing carriage.

  Church bells ringing, and daylight dissipating quickly, we finally emerged through the gates moments before they were closed up and secured. Fortune was with us as the driver was passing very near the farm that Liam had described, so we rode on until we reached the closest point along the driver’s route. The cart stopped and we debarked, bowing to the driver. “Buonasera,” I said, waving him goodbye. He looked confused but said nothing.

  “So this is the location?” Pietro looked at me quizzically.

  “That’s what he said. Quickly, let’s get changed into our disguises before we’re seen by anyone.” We found a nearby swatch of bushes and threw on our festive attire. My disguise was a Venetian masque, ivory-colored and covering half my face with the contorted visage of a fool. A long, beaklike nose hung down over my real nose.

  “Is this suitable?” My assistant stepped out from the brambles. His robes were a deep crimson, his mask and large hat a crude parody of a cardinal, fat and grinning lasciviously.

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’ll surely go to hell for wearing that, Pietro.”

  He retorted, “If hell awaits me, I’ll have no doubt that it will be due to your influence.”

  We left our cloaks and weapons in the bushes, well hidden from the traffic of the road. There was no doubt that we’d be stripped of our swords at the door, and it would do no good for anybody if we gave ourselves away as sbirri before we even reached the rendezvous.

  All preparations made, we took to the road. The farm was a short distance, no more than ten minutes on foot. The road was dusty but mostly abandoned by now. Good thing, I thought. We must have made for an unusual sight for anyone passing by.

  “Ser, there’s a light up the road!” Pietro pointed it out.

  “Yes, that must be the meeting place. Come, let’s hurry.” We trotted up the path, and as we got closer we could see several carriages and a gathering of men waiting nearby. We approached the nearest one and found that all were in disguise save for the driver and his man.

  We joined the ranks of the other guests. One of the figures, a tall African man that I presumed was the same as the man Marco had described, acted as host and bowed politely to us all. Pietro and I returned the greeting. “Pleasant evening to you, maestri. Are you awaiting your passage to the illustrious Ganea?”

  “That we are, my lord,” I said ceremoniously.

  He held out his arm, indicating the waiting carriage. “Perfect! I am Mummio, and I will be your guide to a world of ancient splendor and decadence. Please, step on into the carriage. You’ll find a few other guests have boarded and are awaiting transit as well. Do not fear your stewards, they may appear menacing but they are trustworthy, I assure you.” His Florentine was immaculate, and his manners superb.

  We followed his instruction and were met by the driver. “Have a seat within the carriage and relax your bodies. We shall leave shortly.”

  Inside the carriage we found a handful of men already wai
ting for our departure. All were disguised as we were. One bench had a couple of spaces, so we planted ourselves there. Just as I began to wonder where Liam was I found myself being jabbed in the ribs. I turned to find myself face to face with a man in a bright blue velvet vest with a tall, feathered cap that grazed the ceiling of the cabin.

  “Pleased to see you made it in good time.” Liam’s voice was unmistakable. He spoke softly. “I trust you found this place easily enough.”

  “Without a problem,” I said.

  “Pietro, lad. You’re definitely going to hell in that getup.”

  “So I hear,” he said coolly.

  The driver poked his head into the cabin at last and said, “Gentlemen, we are about to depart now. Please, shut your eyes and enjoy the ride.” The door was closed at once, and a bolt slid from the outside. The shutters on the windows were closed as well, leaving us in total darkness as the ground beneath us began to move and crackle.

  “Best enjoy the ride from here on,” Liam said. “No turning back now.”

  As he said those words, I noticed a cold pit had formed in my stomach. Indeed, there was no turning back.

  9

  I didn’t see another spark of light for at least an hour. There were only the vaguest impressions of the direction we were travelling, which seemed to me to be a northeasterly heading up into the mountains. I figured that that would put us somewhere in the outskirts of Fiesole, which would make perfect sense.

  Fiesole was one of the oldest towns in the Arno valley. It had been settled before the Romans, back during the time of the ancient Etruscan kings. Its rich history meant that there were many old ruins littered throughout the surrounding areas. It occurred to me then that the stone structure that Marco had described was likely an ancient temple to an unknown pagan god, half-buried and half-forgotten until recently. Perhaps it was a shrine to Mars, or Apollo, or Minerva. Or, even more appropriately for this occasion, it was a temple for Bacchus, the god of libation and debauchery.