Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy (24 page)

"Where did the wagon go?" asked Lauro. The delivery and the riders had all disappeared.

"Probably around the back side." I pointed to a set of ruts that cut through the growth and veered behind the house. "There are probably more structures in the rear."

"Shall we investigate?" Pietro looked at me with apprehension.

"It's what we came here to do." I dismounted my horse and led it to a clearing that would be obscured from the road. The others did the same. Then the four of us approached the property, paying close attention to our visibility. Where we were able we stayed behind the tree line so that our outlines could be broken up. I saw no one yet but wanted to be sure that we kept the advantage of surprise.

The nearer we got to the house the more I felt like I needed to look inside. When we were about parallel to it the clearing behind it became visible, and from where we were lurking there could be seen a couple of neglected fields and, further still, the glowing outline of a stable and several small huts where presumably there had been workers that had occupied them in years past. Beside the stable was parked the wagon, which was being unloaded by the riders.

I turned my attention back to the house. "I'm going to take a look inside."

"I'll go with you."

"Lauro? Francesco?"

"Nah," said Lauro. "We'll venture up the hill a ways and keep a look out." He gestured to the ridge that arose behind us and circled the rear of the property. It was well wooded and provided a sweeping view of the area.

I shrugged. "That's a good idea. Don't wander too far. We shouldn't be long."

"Damn thing is probably haunted anyway," Francesco said. The two trudged off, leaving Pietro and I in the shadow of the ruin.

We approached the villa carefully, trying to avoid roots and other debris that was obscured in the surrounding property. As we got closer we found bits of rubble strewn about, broken roof tiles and crumbled plaster, from when the house was destroyed. The large front doors were agape so I slipped inside, careful not to touch anything.

Inside was almost completely dark except for the few rays of the moon that shone in from the opening of the atrium. The rooms downstairs were surprisingly preserved but extremely musty, with growth from outside having invaded long ago. Ivy clung to the walls and coiled around railing and any other fixture it could find.

Pietro and I tiptoed through what had apparently been a dining/cooking area. In the corner was a stone cooking hearth, and on the floor were scattered bits of kitchen utensils and equipment. Up above us some of the ceiling plaster had fallen in large clumps and stars shone through what once was the second story floor.

"This way," I said. I stepped through an opening at the end of the room and heard a tiny creature scurry away. Across from us, along the far wall, there were windows facing toward the rear of the property and I could see the stable clearly and unobstructed. "Look."

From the golden glowing interior of the stable I saw a figure emerge, tall and imposing. I recognized the build at once as the man we had seen at the ganea, Vasquez. He was speaking with the chestnut-haired man Antonio had pointed out. I could hear voices but was unable to make out what was said. I strained to see what I could inside the stable but could not distinguish anything beyond the entrance.

"I count four men," said Pietro. "Five, assuming Bartolomeo is inside there."

"He is," I said. "He must be."

There was a commotion behind us and I turned quickly. Instinctively I had drawn my sword and bore down on the indistinct shadows across from me. I noticed Pietro had done the same.

"Have you come for Bartolomeo?" the quaking, hushed voice said.

I still could not see anything clearly in the corner. The voice, I realized, had been female.

"Signora Neri?" I asked in surprise, but I knew that there could only be one answer.

"Yes. And my children." She crept forward and I saw her wispy form for the first time in weeks. Her hair was disheveled and her clothes were gritty. Behind her, huddled, were the children, frightened and dirty. It dawned on me then that she was a prisoner, as were his own children.

"We met many weeks ago. You might remember me," I said. It occurred to me that I was still holding my sword so I slipped it back into its sheath.

"I do. You're Mercurio, right? The investigatore."

"Yes. How long have you been here?"

She closed her eyes. "Weeks it feels like. I lost count of the days. My husband said that we needed to go at once, that we were in trouble in the city. Then he brought us here to his old family home. I had never seen it before so I had no idea how bad it was, otherwise I would never have agreed. Not that it would have mattered." Signora Neri opened her eyes again. "My husband has done many bad things and he must be stopped."

"Ugo?"

She nodded. "And many others that you don't know about. I was afraid to say anything. You understand, he would have killed me."

"I do."

"And he has conspired with many others who are as bad as he." The Signora wiped a tear from her cheek.

"For what purpose?"

She sighed. "For riches. For fame. To reclaim a family honor that he destroyed himself. I've given up trying to understand what drives him to do the things he does." I saw her stare out the window at the stable, her eyes expressionless. She turned. "How many men have you brought?"

"Just four of us. We did not know what was waiting here."

Her eyes went wide. "You'll need more. Many more." She was shaking. "You need to get your men and go now. They'll kill all of you if they find you."

I peeked again through the empty window frame. Vasquez had joined in helping the men unload. "They?"

"No, no, no. There are more. Many more. From Milan. You don't understand, Bartolomeo has been working with Visconti! There are soldiers!"

I blinked hard. The plot against Florence, just as Cosimo had said. Bartolomeo's counterfeit coins were a weapon to damage and discredit the commune. Who else but the duke, with his vast wealth and ambition, could have been behind this? Bartolomeo must surely have met the duke while he was working in the north. The shipments, which were smuggled from the south to prevent any sort of connection, would have been ordered directly by Duke Visconti himself. And now we had indisputable proof, Visconti's very own men overseeing the operation.

It was a daring plan and, the more I thought about it, an ingenious one. His agent, Bartolomeo, was in a position to do more damage in Florence than ten thousand men at the gates. The only weakness was Ugo, who could not control his vices and had caused the chain of events that had brought me here.

"You said they are soldiers?"

"Yes. From Milan. I believe there are about two dozen."

"When will they return?"

Signora Neri eyes stared into me coldly. "They've never left, they've been here the whole time. In the hills around us, keeping watch. I'm shocked that they did not see you as soon as you arrived."

I remembered that Lauro and Francesco were outside.

"Merda!" I grabbed Pietro's shoulder. "We have to go now!"

"Capo!" he said, his eyes fixed to the window.

My gut filled with dread the instant I peered outside. A large group of men, all clad in armor and speaking loudly in the distinct Milanese dialect, were pushing two hooded figures toward the stable. Vasquez and the riders immediately stopped what they were doing and met with the group and, from within the stable, emerged the thin figure of Bartolomeo. The captives were shoved to the ground, kneeling, and when the hoods were pulled from their heads I saw the grim faces of Lauro and Francesco.

Inside the house it was irrevocably silent. The shouting from outside was clear even from where I stood, perched in the shadows and watching powerlessly through the ruined window.

The Milanese solders stood firmly while Bartolomeo shouted at the prisoners, his arms waving violently. Vasquez was at his side, cool and remorseless, while the lackeys stared, frozen.

"Who are you and what are you doing on this land?" the goldsmith screamed. Lauro and Francesco held their silence. "I will ask again, who are you? And what are you doing here?"

Still they held their tongues. Bartolomeo was confused and livid. "Rodrigo."

Leaving his sword sheathed at his side, Vasquez removed a small dagger which he held plainly.

"Talk, men. How many more are there?"

"We'll never tell you, Neri. It could be dozens or it could be just us two," Lauro said slowly. He turned to face Vasquez. "Do what you're paid to do, dog."

Bartolomeo looked at his man and nodded. Vasquez stepped behind Lauro and brought the dagger to his throat, then with one swift movement brought the blade down and across. I saw Lauro choke and pitch forward, gurgling as he tried to breathe. I closed my eyes and tried to push the image from my mind but it was already etched and would remain so for the rest of my days.

"Your friend is dying," Neri said, his face close to Francesco. "Tell me what I want to know. Who are you and why did you come here?"

Francesco watched Lauro's writhing form in the dirt and then looked up. Then he spat in Neri's face. "I don't speak to cowards."

Neri stepped back, his expression livid. Vasquez started towards Francesco but was stopped. "Give that to me. Now." The Spaniard handed his dagger to the smaller man who was quaking with rage.

In one short instant Bartolomeo exploded into a fury, beating Francesco with his fists before jamming the dagger into torso again, and again. "Who is the fucking coward? Who?" All the men stepped back in surprise. Neri had become like an animal, and he continued to pummel at Francesco even after he had breathed his last. The ferocity of the attack reminded me of something horrible, and I suddenly recalled the desecrated body of Ugo.

Behind me Pietro took in a shocked breath. I felt my whole body tense and I realized my heart was pounding. The reality was sinking in swiftly, and I could not shake the guilt that I was feeling that I had murdered these men indirectly. My hands trembled and I had to lean against the edge of the window to keep from losing my balance.

"Get rid of these two," he ordered fiercely. He threw the dagger to the ground, his hands sticky and covered in blood. "If there are more, find them. Kill them. We need that shipment on its way to Florence tonight." Then he stormed back into the stables, leaving the men in stunned confusion.

"Do as he says," ordered Vasquez. To the lackeys he said, "Finish unloading that wagon and make preparations for the delivery. We need it ready before the sun rises." To the soldiers: "Split into three groups. I want men patrolling the roads east and west of here. Another group will search the area south of the road. The rest of you come with me."

I was still deep in my thoughts when Pietro called me. "Capo, we need to do something soon. They'll be coming around any minute."

Shaking off the dark thoughts that had begun tormenting me, I said, "Of course. We need to get away from here now before we can think of anything else."

I turned to Signora Neri. "I won't say anything if they come by, I swear." I nodded and as we started to leave she added, "You must kill him. Please." Her expression was pleading. I said nothing and left without another word.

Outside we carefully maneuvered through the rubble surrounding the house and then made a run onwards toward the road. Some clouds had rolled in so we did not have the full glare of the moon to betray us. We neared where we had left the horses and I noticed with dread that the animals were gone.

"This is where we left them, right?"

"Yes," I said, incredulous. "They've either wandered off or the solders have found them. Either way, we need to keep moving." In the distance I was beginning to hear the sound of dogs barking.

We crossed the road, praying that we would not be spotted in the clearing. Invisible, chimerical eyes stalked our senses but as far as we could tell we had not been spotted by any earthly pursuers. From the edge of the road a hillside opened up and, shortly below, a low tree line beckoned us.

The patchy ground was uneven and I worried that I would break an ankle just trying to clear the downward slope. Somehow we managed to keep our footing long enough to reach the protection of the thicket. Resisting the urge to look back, I pushed myself to keep moving and put as much space between us and the dogs.

Navigating the twisting branches and roots in the dark was an exhausting challenge. Before long my legs were throbbing and my lungs wheezed. Pietro was ahead of me but he too was beginning to tire.

"We cannot keep this up," I said. "But if those dogs track us down we're finished."

"Maybe there's a stream or something nearby. There were all kinds of creeks around Loro Ciuffenna."

"To lose the scent? That's good thinking, Pietro."

We continued our flight through the brambly and disorienting nightmare, unaware of where exactly we were headed but following wherever the terrain was leading us. There were many unexpected and perilous drops that we came dangerously close to tumbling into, and several times I lost my footing. My hands were already dirty and covered in tiny, stinging cuts.

Pietro pointed out a large boulder beneath us. "We should climb. The dogs will have to go around."

"Lead the way," I said. He lowered himself down first, climbing several feet before dropping to the gravelly dirt below. I followed, scrambling until I could not feel anywhere to put my feet. Then I forced myself to let go. My feet hit the ground unexpectedly.

There was an animal trail of some kind, narrow and winding, and we took advantage of the easier terrain. The brush was tall around us and the trees were starting to get taller, which meant that water was likely nearby.

"Do you hear that?" It was difficult to hear over the hum of the insects but there was, between the excited barking that moved ever closer, a steady trickle coming from very close by.

"Yes." Pietro kept up the pace, forcing me to push myself harder. My ribs were aching again, a bad sign for things to come.

The foliage grew thinner and soon I was able to see over a wide expanse. Beneath us I heard the water louder than ever, so we steered ourselves off the trail and into the uncertain slope that would bring us to the creek. By now there were voices accompanying the barking, and I knew we did not have much time.

"Careful," I said as I shimmied down the sharp, loose rocks. One slip would have sent me tumbling all the down, most likely onto Pietro who was below me already. I tried to control myself by gingerly testing each foothold but time was rapidly running out. Desperate, I finally just let go of my fear and went for it, bounding down the slippery stones and digging my fingers into the earth to keep myself from pitching forward.

I had just about reached the bank below when my foot caught and I tumbled forward. Somehow I managed to catch myself but the momentum threw me to the ground and I rolled. I stopped for a second, then eased upright. Nothing felt broken for now, I thought.

"Here," said Pietro, holding his hand out for me to grab.

"Grazie." I pulled myself up.

"Can you still run?"

"I can, but not very far. We need to go now though."

We kept close to the bank but deep enough that the water was about ankle deep. The goal was to travel far enough that the dogs would lose our scent. I wasn't sure how well this plan would work since the creek was low but anything was worth a try at this point.

"Hold on," Pietro said after we had been running for a couple minutes. "We need something to keep them off our trail for a while. Give me something with your scent on it." I searched my pouch and found nothing useful, so I pulled off my cap. Wiping my face and underarms with it, I handed it to Pietro and he crossed the stream and climbed up the other side of the bank where there was a ravine, wiping the cloth over various stones and branches as he went. Finally he wrapped it around a rock, along with his own, before pitching it over the edge, then hurried back to the creek using the same path he had come up. "Now we need to run."

The barking was echoing from up the creek and I could almost see them approaching. We sprinted as hard as we could push ourselves, following the flow of the water as it wound through the cleft between the two large hills at our sides. The slope descended more sharply now, and the slot that we were following grew narrow. Again I had to watch my footing as we stumbled down the rocky surface.

After struggling for what felt like hours we finally reached a point where the creek bed flattened and the hills around us receded. Out in the distance I spotted lights for the first time, a village perhaps. At least it was a sign that there were people somewhere that might be able to help us.

"Do you hear that?" Pietro had paused and was looking back.

"The dogs? I can't hear them anymore." I sighed. "I think we've lost them. Thank God." I walked to the nearest relatively flat and elevated spot and collapsed. "How did you know how to do that, Pietro?"

He laughed. "My family are hunters, it's in my blood. I grew up with dogs."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed," I said. "I had you pegged for a city lad."

"No way," he said, smiling. "Now what do we do?"

I sat up. "Now we rest, because we have a lot of walking to do. We need to find the nearest town so we can ride back to Florence and warn Jacopo. Bartolomeo said he wants that shipment delivered by tomorrow so we need to get back as quickly as possible and hope we can figure out where they're bringing it."

While I caught my breath, the images of Lauro and Francesco kept appearing in my mind. Their deaths would not go unavenged, I vowed. Bartolomeo would pay for all the crimes he had committed. All I wanted to do at that moment was close my eyes and sleep but I knew that if we did not hurry then we might not ever have another chance to make that happen.

After a few stretches I forced myself to stand. "We need to go."

Pietro was up without a word of complaint. We gathered our things and were back on the move. Now that I had time to think and study our surroundings I realized that we were far from the road we had taken from Loro Ciuffenna and were well on our way to the town of Reggello that was on the road to Fiesole to the northwest.

Thankfully, the clouds overhead had gone and we had the light of the moon to guide us. We were still well up in the mountains so the temperature had dropped considerably since we had left the town. Magnoprato was now at our backs, its lofty silhouette jutting skyward.

We left the creek, pausing to drink our fill and store as much as we could in our flasks for the trip ahead, and followed another small trail that led north. Since we were no longer being pursued we took our time a little more to preserve our strength. I was still leery of being out in the open so we kept out of sight amongst the vegetation that grew denser the further we travelled. There was no sign of any road nearby but I would have steered clear of it either way to be safe.

Our slower pace eased my labored breathing and pounding heart but allowed for all the aches and pains that had been lying dormant to be felt. My knees were wobbly and I could feel the uncomfortable sting of blisters with each step. I was definitely not used to climbing over rocks and roots, though Pietro seemed to be finding his footing much more easily.

Now that we were on our own, the quiet solitude of the mountains became apparent, even overwhelming at times. When we stopped, the only sounds to be heard were our own breaths. There was no movement - no swaying of branches, or shuffle of leaves. Nothing. Just absolute, unsettling stillness.

The wispy clouds arced over us, shining silver in the moon's rays and traversing the sky imperceptibly. Below us yawned the Arno valley, and from our perch we could see it stretch out far into the distance. Somehow we would have to find a way down there, through all the tangled, crumbling hillside ahead of us. One step at a time, I assured myself.

"I can't believe what happened to Lauro and Francesco," Pietro said after a long span of silence. "They didn't deserve that."

"No, they did not," I said. "And I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I put everyone's life at risk."

"Capo, there's no way you could have known about the soldiers."

I stayed silent, just watching my footing as we marched ever forward. I needed to stay focused on what needed to be done, not on what had happened earlier. There would be a time for explanations later. Jacopo would grill me, of that I was certain.

"When we get down to the bottom we need to head straight for the town. I don't expect that it will take us too long to get there. The gates will likely be closed but the night watch may let us in if I explain the situation and show them Jacopo's letter."

"And if they don't let us in?"

"Then we have to wait until dawn before we can enter the city. And we will have to find our own horses. Either way, we will need to ride to Fiesole and then to Florence so that we can report to Jacopo and get reinforcements."