Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy (17 page)

“I am Erasmo da Narni,” said he. “Messeri, you are in luck that you have managed to find me. My men and I are preparing our leave in a few days. I suspect that whatever brings you here is of dire importance, since my men tell me you’ve ridden all the way from Florence in what appears to be very uncomfortable accoutrement.” He smiled, revealing a mouth full of perfect teeth.

We dismounted and followed him round the villa towards where we heard the clashing men earlier.

“I apologize for the trouble, Signore,” said Jacopo. “You are correct that my men and I are here to discuss an important matter. You see, we are searching for a man who may have worked under your service until very recently.”

“I see,” said Erasmo. We followed him to a large court area where dozens of men were mock fighting. Wooden swords clattered with ferocious force, the loud clacking echoing off of the stone walls of the villa. Their movements were swift and fluid, their feet carrying them birdlike into great lunges that were executed with trained precision before retreating back into a defensive posture. Each opening was attacked fiercely and some men bore the bruises more prominently than others.

“We have many men here, as you can imagine. I have men from the Germanic mountains, men from the kingdom of Spain. I have rich men, poor men, sons of butchers and bastard sons of cardinals.”

“We are looking for a Spaniard. Vasquez is his name.”

The captain grunted with recognition. “Yes. I’m not surprised that you’ve come for him. And I would gladly hand him over to you if I knew where he was.”

“So you do know of this man?” I said, speaking out of turn.

“Ah! Who is this then?”

Jacopo said, “This is my chief investigator, Mercurio Capolupo. He is the man to whom you owe our visit today in fact.” He looked slightly irked at my impertinence but he was able to cover it up with a dash of charm. Between Erasmo and Jacopo I could never be sure who had the most convincing false sincerity. I assumed safely that it was the warrior prince before us.

“Very interesting. Ser investigatore, I shall speak with you directly then. My man Vasquez has disappeared many weeks ago. He has not been missed I’m not afraid to say.”

Jacopo raised his eyebrow at me. I cleared my throat.

“What sort of man was he?”

“A devil, one of the most talented I’ve seen. Strong, fast and very savvy. He could have been a good soldier but his cunning was his undoing. Never was good at following the orders of his superiors. It came as no surprise when he deserted. What was his alleged crime?”

“Murder. Murders, plural, as a matter of fact.”

“No surprise there either. Tell me, are you good with a sword, Mercurio?”

I was a bit thrown off by the tone of the question but I answered truthfully.

“I’m adequate.”

“No, you move like a fighter. I reckon that you’ve seen some action, haven’t you, boy?”

“A fair bit,” I said, disconcerted. He was sizing me up, I could tell.

“My apologies, Mercurio. Your patience must be frayed from your trip all the way here. Tell me more about these murders.” Lunge, parry, riposte. Just like the men fighting in the garden, we were conducting our own battle of intellects.

“Three so far. A gambler, a gangster and a usurer.”

“Ha! It sounds to me like you should be thanking him, Signore Orsini.”

Jacopo grunted. I continued. “The murders were extremely brutal and very public. The gambler was murdered on a busy bridge and left face down in the Arno. The gangster was stabbed to death outside of a gambling den full of people. The usurer, inside a brothel filled with patrons.”

“If he’s so public, how have you not caught him yet?”

“Because these crimes were all random. At least they seemed that way at first. We have various theories as to why he chose his victims.”

“Aside from being a sick savage?” He eyed me keenly. “Do tell.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Jacopo. “Until we can verify anything, which we can’t, I’m afraid that I cannot say. But what I can tell you is that he had a mission of some kind and we intend to learn exactly what it was.” The cadence of my voice was steady, my words confident and articulate. My hand quavered, but it was well hidden in the folds of my cloak.

The general smiled with approval. “I wish I could help you in that endeavor, investigatore. Alas, he deserted without a word to anyone as far as I am aware. It’s just as well, since we’re readying our supplies and men for war.” He sighed. “But I would have assumed that he had gone back to Valencia where he came from. If he’s still around as you say then I can only suspect that he’s found a new master willing to pay him a larger share than I did.”

We walked and chatted a bit further until Gattamelata said, “How rude of me, you men must be famished from your journey.” He summoned a page from nearby. “Have lunch and refreshments prepared for our guests.”

It was a short distance back to the house, and the servants had already brought out a table and some chairs for us in the garden. We sat and were immediately presented with grappa produced from grapes grown on the estate, as well as nuts and figs to snack on. The main course consisted of roasted quail with onions and basil.

Conversation during the meal was light and jovial. Erasmo was keen to talk about the land and its history. Formerly the homestead of a provincial noble, it had been seized by the Florentine commune many decades prior. Erasmo had held the title for the last six or seven years.

“The land provides everything. Warmth, food, happiness. I love the culture of the city but it is so satisfying to have a place far away from the chaos of urban life.”

“I grew up in an area very similar to this,” said Jacopo. He stared wistfully at the trees and the hills that were stacked upon each other. “My cousin still owns the property. I often take the family back there during the summer.”

“And you, Mercurio?”

“My family lived in Pisa while I was young.”

“Ah! By the ocean! What a beautiful place. Does it ever call to you?”

I laughed. “I love the sea but I’m not a great fan of sailing, if that’s what you’re asking. I fancy an occasional visit once in a while.” In truth I realized it had been years since I had seen my uncle and I wondered how he and his family were doing. I decided that I would bring it up with my mother, since she seemed to know everything about everyone.

We talked for a while more. I was admiring the peaceful serenity when Jacopo announced that we were leaving.

“I apologize for wasting your time, ser Orsini. But as I said, Rodrigo has long since moved on. If there is anything I could do to help you than my services are yours.”

“Your kindness and hospitality are truly appreciated,” said the comandatore. “God’s graces to you and your men on your journey.”

Our horses were led to us by the general’s groomsmen. Watered and well fed, they appeared as sad to leave as we were.

Erasmo said, “If you do find your man, I have many small attachments camped out across the region. You can find them from here to Arezzo.”

For a moment I envisioned Bartolomeo’s empty shop but I couldn’t understand why. A nagging feeling crept up inside me. What was it?

“Is something the matter, Mercurio?” Erasmo must have noticed my dazed expression.

I struggled to reconstruct the layout of the shop with my mind, imagining the racks of missing tools and the furnaces that stood dormant. I could see the back office with rows of ledgers, work orders. The missing ledger, blackened inside the furnace but its insides still intact. The silver shipments. AZ!

“Did you say Arezzo?” I asked.

“Yes, does this have some importance?”

Unbelievable, I thought. How could I have overlooked such an obvious piece of evidence? The initials weren’t the name of the shipments’ vendor but the city of origin!

“Comandatore, we need to go to Arezzo as soon as possible. I think we may find clues to the whereabouts of Vasquez and, hopefully, Bartolomeo there.”

“If you find Vasquez, my men are at your disposal,” said Erasmo. “I want him just as much as you do. We don’t tolerate traitors either, Mercurio.”

“Grazie,” I said.

“Signore Orsini.” Erasmo saluted the comandatore.

Jacopo returned the gesture.

Erasmo’s men saw us back to the main road. It was midday. Plenty of time to get back before dark. Several hours later and the distant city walls shone in the orange light of the sun as it sleepily descended towards the arched backs of the hills far away. A front of clouds was building and shined like polished silver and gold. They would soon sweep in and the night air would be warm and humid.

The road was quiet and we were about as isolated as one could ever hope.

“Mercurio, where does the investigation stand?”

“We still have a few loose ends. Bartolomeo’s burned ledger indicated that his silver shipments were coming from somewhere, by all appearances Arezzo. Until we can confirm that we don’t have much more we can go on.”

We steered past a couple slow-moving wagons, then waited until we were beyond audible range.

“Honestly, do you believe that he’s been abducted or that he’s an accomplice?”

That question had kept nagging at me the last several nights.

“It’s difficult to say. Bartolomeo left with his family in a hurry and he or someone else covered his tracks. It isn’t impossible that he was spirited away by Rodrigo, nor is it that they all left together. There was no blood or evidence of violence at either the house or the shop.”

“What about the slash in Ugo’s bedding?” Pietro asked.

“Ah, I’d almost forgotten! That might have been made by Vasquez or, again, Bartolomeo may have been responsible. His wife seemed afraid of something, perhaps she had noticed that the family home had been broken into or noticed strange men lurking nearby.”

“But if Bartolomeo is capable of conspiring with men such as Vasquez, she could have been afraid of her own husband!” added Francesco.

“As would anyone in that position, with children to protect,” said Pietro.

“What about the missing die from the mint?”

“I haven’t thought of anything yet. We can surmise that Bartolomeo acquired the die at some point from someone within the mint. Obviously we can rule out Vasquez, so there must have been another accomplice who had access to the locked storeroom.”

Lauro chimed in. “But what was the plan then once the coins were made? They had to go somewhere. What was the point of hunting down the missing forgeries in the first place?”

“Exactly what I was wondering,” said Jacopo. “The purpose of counterfeit coins is to simulate wealth.”

“But whoever funded this conspiracy had plenty of wealth to begin with, which is why the replicas were so well crafted.” The manpower and the supplies needed were far beyond the means of any criminal I had ever encountered.

“Mercurio, when you found the usurer, was there any kind of pouch or bag that the coins might have been kept in?” asked Jacopo.

I had to think back, it felt so long since the night at the brothel.

“Yes. There was a leather pouch that had been cut open but it was empty. I found it beneath the floorboards in a hidden compartment while Marcello and I were searching the room.”

“So it was probably sewn together at some point if had to be cut.” Jacopo smiled wryly. “Did it have any kind of symbol embossed on it?”

“There was! It was a bird or a chevron or something. It was badly worn.”

“Or a shield?”

“Yes, that’s very possible. In fact, I think you’re right,” I said.

“The Medici crest?” Lauro said suspiciously.

The Medici crest! The symbol of one of the wealthiest families in the city. Not only that, but it was the crest that adorned every tavolo and every bureau of the Medici Bank.

“Of course! The pouch was an official Medici Bank pouch. The coins were sealed and marked to appear that they were distributed by the bank itself.” One of the common methods of payment of large sums was called the fiorino di sugello, the sealed florin. Banks would issue these pouches of coins in specific amounts in order to ensure that the coins were not clipped or otherwise tampered with.

The fraudulent coins weren’t forged in order to be used secretly. They were a part of a plot to destroy the credibility of the Medici bankers. The coins were convincing enough replicas to pass a visual inspection but anyone weighing them would have found the difference obvious. And Ugo, unknowingly or foolishly, had compromised the conspirators when he stole the coins from his brother’s workshop, which led to his death as well as Tino and Carlo.

“Now it makes sense,” Jacopo said, pleased. “The scandal at the mint was bad enough, but this is a crisis. Mercurio, I’m going to make my case to the podestà tomorrow morning. I want you with me when I do.” He turned to my men. “All of you, this is a tremendous day. When we get back to the city we’re going to celebrate!”

By then we were very close to the city walls and were passing through the farming village that lay on the outskirts. A short while, and a quick nod from the chief guard at the gatehouse, later and we were once again surrounded by the warm embrace of civilization.

True to his word, Jacopo insisted that we head straight to the House of Figs once we visited the stables to drop off the supplies and horses. There we were treated with a strong, enriched wine from the Porto region of Portugal, paid for generously on the comandatore's tab.

“It has been truly remarkable. What we have uncovered will save the city a lot of humiliation and strife. There is still more to be found but we will prevail. We will find Rodrigo and we will find Bartolomeo. We will catch all parties responsible for this act of treason and we will bring them to justice. Alla salute!”

We drank into the night. My memories became hazy but the warmth of the tavern and the enchanting music soothed me. At that time I felt invincible, my heart soaring with pride. I could not imagine a greater success, and we were so close to reaching the end of the investigation.

It was late when Jacopo departed. “Mercurio, you’d be wise to leave soon too. Don’t forget our meeting. I wouldn’t want you hungover for our big moment,” he slurred.

I left not much later. Pietro, Lauro, and Francesco remained. I imagined their defeated faces in the morning, sick and miserable. There was still a chance I could get enough rest to look professional before the chief of the Bargello.

The darkened streets were a maze but one that I knew all too well. My feet felt as though they scarcely touched the stones beneath them as I glided in the direction of my home. I may have even been singing.

When I felt myself buckle I first thought that I had tripped over some piece of refuse in the shadows. I tried to pick myself up but something blunt struck me on the left side of my face causing stars to explode before my eyes. I reeled and tripped over myself.

“Investigatore Mercurio. How nice to meet you,” a voice said.

I squinted, trying to make out the face. I was dizzy and my heart was pounding.

“Who is this?”

Several men stepped out into view, their faces barely lit by a torch on the other side of the street. I was sure I recognized them. One of the men, the leader apparently, was a gaunt, scrappy man. They looked like members of one of the local militias from the many nearby borghi.

“You’ve been doing some digging in places you shouldn’t have, boy.”

“What business is it of yours?” I demanded. I started to pull myself up but the leader kicked me swiftly in the ribs. I fell back hard, choking and gasping for breath. The air was knocked completely out of me and I felt a sharp, aching pain in my side. I coughed, and every time I did I felt a spasm of pain tear through me.

“It’s none of ours. But our employer sent us to find you and silence you and we intend to do that.”

I scrambled to pick myself up. The men, four of them I could see, advanced upon me. My breathing was labored and waves of dizziness tossed my mind about. I stood slowly.

“Stay back! Do you even know who I am? I’m a member of the sbirri!”

The leader laughed. “We know who you are, Mercurio.”

“Then you know that my men will hunt you down.”

The gang shared a sinister laugh. I reached for my sword but they rushed me at once, kicking the weapon away. A hail of punches ensued, and I did my best to block my face and my vitals. The beating went on for what felt like an eternity, and I struggled to contain the screams in my throat. Just breathe, Mercurio, I thought. This would all end soon. The pointy tip of a boot to the kidney made me recoil, leaving my gut exposed for a moment.

I lifted my head and saw that the leader held a long dagger. He started down at me but I managed a swift kick to the face that sent him staggering.

“Pezzo di merda!” he shouted, and a trickle of blood dribbled down his chin. His eyes were furious. “Hold him down,” he ordered the others.

They turned to grab my arms but the momentary surprise had given me an opportunity. I rolled to the side and elbowed one of them as hard as I could in the face. He grimaced and fell backwards, his nose grotesquely broken.

The other two grabbed me and I twisted to loosen their grip but they held fast. There was no escape.

“Tough bastard, I’ll give you that. Time to end this.”

The leader picked up the dagger and walked up to where I was pinned against the wall. He was about to thrust it into my gut when I heard a peculiar whistle in the air and a hard thump at the man’s side. The dagger clattered to the stones at our feet.

“Che cazzo!” he growled. His eyes widened as he saw the blunt end of the bolt that stuck out of his shoulder.

“Stop at once!” a cry echoed from nearby. The men looked at each other. Panicked, they released me and retreated hastily. The leader stumbled backward, his arm rigid from the pain. In the next instant I saw him thrown to the ground by two officers of the night watch.

“Mercurio!”

No wonder the voice sounded familiar, I thought. When I opened my eyes there stood Marcello, a concerned look on his face.

“Christ, if we’d been a second later. We heard shouting and hurried as fast as we could.”

“I put up a good fight but they took me by surprise. Bastards.” I spat.

The officers hoisted the leader up, and he screamed as they twisted his injured arm which was now bound. He glared at me, more ferocious than ever.

“Take him to the Bargello,” he ordered. The officers nodded and ushered the injured man away. “Are you okay?”

My breathing was still shallow and my knees quaked from the trauma. “I might need a moment.”

“Take your time. I’m escorting you home.”

I thanked him.

We walked slowly. My side ached the entire way, and the pain was so fierce that I was almost certain that some ribs were cracked. I coughed but didn’t taste any blood. At least I had that to be thankful for.

“Do you know who those men were?”

“Militia, by the looks of it,” I said.

“That was bold of them to come after an officer. Have you been making enemies again?”

I laughed, and it was agonizing. “Not intentionally. But someone is evidently not very happy with me lately.” I recounted the meeting with Liam and the fact that we’d identified our suspect. The rest of the details I kept vague, though I alluded to the fact that we had met with some important people and that our investigation was turning up some disquieting results.

It did not take long before we reached my home. I opened the door and in the first moment I stumbled over a table, disoriented as I was. Marcello caught me before I fell.

“Careful!” he said loudly.

“Quietly,” I said, hushed. I didn’t want to raise the family. But it was too late.

“Mercurio!” my mother cried. As soon as she saw my face she rushed up to meet me. “You’re hurt! What happened to you, figlio?”

“I was attacked but I’m okay,” I said wearily. “You have Marcello to thank for my safety.”

“It was no trouble, my lady,” he said, but she kissed his cheek gratefully anyway. He laughed, then said, “I think I will leave you in her hands and be on my way.”

“Thank you, Marcello.”

“We will keep the attacker under heavy guard at the Bargello for you.”

“Good. I have many questions for him.”

“When you are able then. Good night.”

As soon as he departed my mother helped me to my room. I removed my clothes and she had Vera bring a bucket with some hot water. When the wet cloth touched my skin I flinched. When I inspected my chest and arms I found dark splotches where I had taken the worst beatings. My whole side was red and puffy.

“Mother, I’m sorry,” I said. She was visibly upset, her face more weathered than usual.

“You could have been killed tonight. Was it worth it?” Disapproval tempered her voice. “What would your father think if he were here?”

I had no words. For the first time in a long while I thought of him and how his political involvements, however seemingly benign, had led to the ruin of our family's prosperity and later to our exile. The sour taste of guilt choked me with the understanding that my own actions could end up leading my family through the same thing again.