Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy (27 page)

"Ho!" I cried, but the man ignored me. He pressed on, in spite of the windiness of the road and the exertion of the horses. I hailed him again, but this time he reached in the back and produced a crossbow that he leveled at me. As he was about to shoot I saw the wagon jolt sharply, and the bolt whizzed past my head harmlessly.

Another jolt shook the wagon and one of the wheels exploded in splinters as it struck a large rock that had fallen into the road. The entire vehicle tipped forward at an angle, and the sudden deceleration caused the horses to wrench free. The driver was hurtled headlong from his perch, and I watched him roll several times until he came to a stop.

We slowed the horses and then circled up at the wagon. Aside from a broken wheel and some broken harnesses, everything else remained intact. The horses were further up the road, and were now calmly munching on some wildflowers in a small depression nearby.

Gattamelata was quick to instruct his men. "We need to get this wagon fixed and ready to roll. Mercurio, is that man still breathing?"

I had dismounted and rushed to the injured driver. His face was covered in scrapes and his breathing was shallow. He groaned as I rolled him onto his back, and when he opened his eyes they looked glazed. There was a glimmer of recognition at the sight of my face and the eyes became focused, but the man remained silent.

"You're a lucky bastard," I said. "You were thrown completely clear. Do you remember where you are?"

He nodded.

"Do you remember where you were going?"

"Yes," he said, his voice hoarse. "I remember."

"Good." I stood upright, trying to appear intimidating while fighting the very sudden and urgent need to vomit. "Now you're going to take us there and you're not going to do anything foolish. Understood?"

The man nodded, his hands held up defensively. "Anything you wish, ser."

Almost an hour later we were on our way, the wagon repaired and Pietro and I sitting on opposite sides of the driver as he handled the reins. Gattamelata and his men followed on their horses, escorting us in case anything untoward happened along the way.

The sun was just peeking over the nearby mountains as we left and would be directly overhead by the time we reached our destination. It would be a long and boring ride, perfect for the nap that I desperately needed after the night we had had previously. The gentle pitching of the wagon lulled me to sleep right away, and I did not wake until Pietro called my name.

"We're nearly to the city."

I opened my eyes and, sure enough, the walls of Florence rose to greet us. It was an inspiring sight, one that I never thought to see again many times since we had left it. I thought of Lauro and Francesco, and their loss caused an ache in my soul. Pietro and I had come so close to joining them but somehow we had prevailed.

Somewhere in that great expanse was my family home, and I missed them now more than I had at any time within memory. I wanted to go straight there, leaving all of the madness in the past. Maybe I could leave Florence once and for all, work for my uncle, forget the horrors I had seen since Ugo's body washed ashore at the woolworker's bottega.

But I knew I wouldn't. There would be no closure, not until we tied the last loose end to this conspiracy that had cost us so much. I didn't know how Jacopo would react when I saw him next. And depending on where this wagon was headed next, I could be making a whole new host of enemies. I was relieved to have Gattamelata at my side, and to him I owed my life.

We creaked through the gates just like any other merchant and no one even gave us a second glance. It was an eerie feeling. The driver said nothing the entire time, just steered the wagon through the busy streets mechanically. Behind us, Gattamelata had fallen back with his soldiers who kept a careful lookout without being too obvious.

The wagon carried us through the town square, past all the familiar landmarks: the Signoria, the Bargello, the Santa Maria del Fiore. We rolled past the borgo of the Medici, through that of the Albizzi and the Strozzi and the Rucellai, and onward until it seemed like we would keep going past the city gates and into the country forever.

The zecca stood proud and menacing before us. We were waved through by the guards at the front and directed to come around the back side. I gazed at them and our surroundings, expressionless, betraying nothing. My heart was pounding, and I tried to keep myself from shaking.

At the rear of the monolithic building we stopped and waited. There was absolute silence and it was terrifying. I stared at Pietro and he stared back at me. Beside us a door opened and several men emerged, their faces cold and contemptuous. At the front, the man giving the orders I recognized as Andrea, the captain of the zecca guard.

Andrea approached and addressed the driver. "Domenico, you're late."

"Aye, ser. We ran behind on production. Couldn't be helped."

The captain glared at him glumly, then at us. "Well? Get your men and start unloading. Now. Put the chests in the storeroom so that Bruni does not find them. You idiots have really fucked us this time, those coins were supposed to be delivered to the Banco dei Medici a day ago."

Pietro and I hopped from the wagon and as we did Gattamelata and his men approached from behind, sealing off the alley. The look of shock on Andrea's face was immediate.

"What the hell is going on?" His eyes met mine, and his jaw dropped. "Investigatore?"

"These chests are going nowhere," I said coolly.

"Men!" shouted Andrea, but Gattamelata and his soldiers were already dismounted and their swords were drawn.

"I wouldn't," he teased. At the sight of the revered general, the guards yielded immediately. None would venture to go up against the living legend.

Shock was etched on Andrea's face, and he dropped his sword at once. "My god." He stepped back a few paces, and then turned to me. "Stand down, men, I submit."

"Pietro," I said. "Will you do me the honor of summoning the comandatore?"

"Certo," he said. "It would be my pleasure, capo."

"There was a point where I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," Jacopo said, his arms folded. We stood outside on the top story of the Bargello, perched above the city that unfolded in all directions below us, isolated from any prying ears. Two days had passed since Andrea and his accomplices had been captured, the shipment of false coins seized as evidence to later be melted down and confiscated.

"I wasn't sure what would be waiting for me when I did."

The suspects, at least those remaining among the living, were captured and awaited trial. Jacopo had made good time in assembling a force to meet us at the zecca. I was pleased that I was not joining them in chains after all that happened. Gattamelata's presence, and his statement to Jacopo that validated my version of events, kept me in good standing with the comandatore.

"You were in a very questionable situation. I don't know if I would have handled it any differently."

"What about Antonio?"

Jacopo laughed. "I won't say I agree with what you did. Hell, I might have done the same thing. But you made good on it at least by not losing him and by getting whatever information you needed out of him." I had left out the details of his near-escape and his recapture thanks to Bruni. "Besides, if it was essential to breaking open this conspiracy then I say it was well worth it. Just be wary should you be tempted to do something similar in the future." His manner was both congratulatory as well as cautionary.

"Grazie, comandatore. Believe me that I had no other choice in the matter. I won't betray your trust again, I swear it."

"I also understand that there were some ramifications that I am not privy to in this affair regarding the Medici bank. Cosimo has asked that you meet with him when you are well again."

"That is most kind." Considering that the young statesman could have demanded my presence at once, I was very thankful. My body was covered in dark bruises from head to toe, and it would take weeks before my eyebrows looked the same again. Not to mention the exhaustion and dehydration, and all the old injuries that I had become reacquainted with, I was lucky to be standing upright much less speaking.

Jacopo continued. "I believe it has something to do with the identity of the man we arrested at the zecca, Andrea degli Albizzi."

"Albizzi?" I hoped that I had misheard, but Jacopo confirmed my fears with a simple nod.

"A cousin of Rinaldo, although not a very close one. I won't go prying any further than I must, but you would do well to indulge Cosimo sooner rather than later." He threw me a canny wink.

Despite Jacopo's lightheartedness, this would have grave consequences. I could not afford to make dangerous enemies now, but this is what I feared had happened. "I shall keep that in mind."

The comandatore patted me on the shoulder. "You'll do what is necessary, I have no doubt about that. So, tell me about this goldsmith. What was he like beneath all the guile?"

"He was one of the most disturbing men I've ever encountered. He was a tyrant in every endeavor, cold and ruthless. I used to think that the soldier Vasquez was the real monster out of the two, but not anymore. I know that Vasquez killed Carlo and his lackey Tino, but Bartolomeo was the one that ended Ugo's life. What concerns me is that I did not see it from the beginning."

Jacopo shrugged. "You ask to much of yourself, Mercurio. He was not a man, he was a plague in man's flesh. He knew how to blend in, how to pretend to be like us, but he was not. And you stripped him of that cover and showed what he was underneath."

"But was it worth the cost? We lost good men."

He looked at me solemnly, one man to another. "Good men are lost all the time. I don't hold you responsible for it because you all knew what a dangerous game you were playing. And this is the hardest lesson, and one that can only be learned only one way. That is why I'm holding you to the task of informing Lauro and Francesco's families of their death, to see those consequences first hand."

"I understand, ser." It was a duty that I knew fell squarely on me, and rightfully so. This was my penance.

"Don't look so forlorn, you avenged your men. It's all you could have hoped to do. Tell me, was he your first?"

I nodded. "I killed him as he was about to strike Pietro. It surely saved his life."

Jacopo raised his eyebrows. "Then you've done a great thing, Mercurio. You've put an end to a monster and saved a good man. Don't let your conscience eat away at you for that."

"I won't, Ser Jacopo."

"Now go be with your family and get some rest. Come back when you're ready, I mean it. And don't forget about Cosimo, he's waiting for you."

I bowed and left the Bargello, thankful that the meeting had gone so well. Jacopo knew that the harshest lessons were those taught to oneself through experience. It was one reason why he was so respected by not just me but by all he commanded.

On the way back I did as Jacopo had ordered and gave the news to the kin of first Lauro, and then Francesco. Neither had had children, and for that I was thankful. But they were sons and they would have had their own families one day and that was not easy to accept. The grief in their mothers' faces shook me, as it was intended. I wondered just how many times Jacopo had performed this grim task.

When all was done I limped back to my own home. Since my return I had been mainly sleeping and recovering, and had spent very little time catching up with anyone. My mother was at her writing table, a small pile of opened letters beside her as she penned her daily correspondences.

"You're back, figlio," she said, placing the quill back in its well. "How are you feeling?"

My back was aching so I plopped down in one of the benches in the common room. "I'm well. Mostly. But it will be a long time still before I'm ready to work again."

"You spoke with Jacopo?"

I nodded. "Yes, briefly. He asked me politely not to come back for a while." I closed my eyes and leaned back to stretch. My muscles ached and I decided I would ask Vera for some willow bark tea when I saw her next.

My mother sighed. "You never told me what happened to you while you were in Arezzo."

"Too many things," I said. I was not trying to avoid conversation, it was just that my mind was trying to organize the trauma that had taken place. Also, the fact that Andrea was a member of the Albizzi clan was a new detail that I needed to mull over.

She stood and walked over to me. Then she kissed my forehead and put her arms around me, holding me close.

"Mercurio, you've always been the one child in this family who has defied all conventional wisdom. Your brother has taken on the mantle of heir to the family business and soon he will have a wife. Your little sister is studying to be a good and proper wife. And your elder sister, kind and wise, is serving her commitment to God."

I had heard this lecture before, many times. My head hurt. I leaned forward and started to speak but she cut me off.

"You won't be a young man for much longer. In fact, since you've returned, I'd say you've aged more than ever. Whatever happened back there, I hope you've learned from it. If anything happened to you I don't know what I would do. Of all my children you are the most foolish but also the most independent."

I opened my eyes. She was staring at me, tears staining her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you."

"But you always do. And you always will," she said. "But it's okay, because you know how the world works. You've seen the good things and the bad things, and you're smart enough to know how to handle both. Most people have their whole lives planned ahead of them, but never you. And somehow, you've survived this long and I find it inspiring." She let go of me then. "You will do what you want, but remember that we will always be there to help you. Just think of us a little before you go and put your life on the line. Think about who you're doing it for."

"I will." She started to walk away. "Mamma?"

"Yes?"

"It's Michele's baptism in a couple days. We should visit Zio Faenza."

Her face lit up. She surely had thought I had forgotten but I hadn't. It would be good to get out of the city again, this time to go someplace familiar. Someplace peaceful and with fresh air that I could better heal my body and my wounded spirit.

"Of course, Mercurio. I had hoped you would be able to go. They will be so happy to see you again." She looked me over. "Are you sure you can make the trip though? We will have to arrange it for tomorrow."

"I wouldn't miss it," I said.

The next morning I made the visit to Cosimo's palace. That would be the last chance I would get to make the rendezvous for a while and I preferred that the air be clear before I left the city. My family was waiting for me so that we could depart as soon as I returned, and they were more than a little surprised when I told them who I was meeting with.

Along the way I noticed that the limp had mostly gone and I could breathe without my chest aching. My shoulders were still weary and my arm was sore so that it smarted whenever I twisted it the wrong way. There would be no fighting in any grand battles with Gattamelata anytime soon, that much was certain. I wondered how things faired for the champion down in l'Aquila.

I hurried as much as I could without agitating my injuries. Before I knew it I was at Cosimo's doorstep. I gave it a mighty rap, hoping that someone would be up.

A few moments later a small window opened and I saw the familiar face of the servant who had greeted me the last time I had visited. He was very proper and his clothes were finely pressed, even at this unusual hour.

"Ah, Mercurio. I was told to expect you sometime soon." He unfastened the door and led me inside.

"I apologize for the earliness of my visit. I hope that the master of the house does not mind. I'm actually just about to leave for a trip."

"Not at all," said the manservant. "Ser Cosimo is an early riser. I think you caught him at just the right time."

We walked through the splendid house, empty and crisp, and I found its treasures to be even more beautiful in the golden sunlight than the last time I had seen it. We stopped at the doorway to the study. Cosimo was sitting with an open book before him. He looked up.

"Ah! Welcome! I'm glad you've recovered enough to make a visit. This is much sooner than I expected to see you."

I explained to the young master my plans to visit my family, and how I would be leaving Florence for an extended amount of time.

"That is marvelous. I wish you all the best. From what I've heard about your adventures you've definitely earned some leave." He sat up straight, and his demeanor changed from affable to a bit more serious. "You. should have a seat, I've been wanting to have a word with you about the Neri affair."

I obliged Cosimo and settled into one of the fine, velvet upholstered chairs beside him. His servant brought a small silver tray with fruit and cheese and a carafe of wine.

"Thank you, that is sufficient." He turned to me. "First off, I wanted to say that your work in Arezzo was tremendous. You've done this city a great service by putting an end to Bartolomeo's enterprise, and you have also done me a favor that I will not forget."

"You are most generous with your words," I said. All of this attention made me uncomfortable, and I longed for the road and the quiet of my uncle's house. I did my best to keep up a gracious façade but I felt it wearing thin.

"Anyway," began Cosimo, clearing his throat, "I did not invite you here simply to sing your praises. Your work has revealed some rather troubling implications. Jacopo told you of Andrea's relations, did he not?"

"He did. Andrea was a member of the Albizzi family."

Cosimo nodded. "That is right. He may not have been the mastermind of this entire business but he played a key role. I have no doubt that it was he that stole the die used to make the counterfeit coins. And, it was also he that planned to disburse the coins to my family's bank in order to publicly ruin us."

"But why?"

"You yourself saw how furious the old families are with our success. They act as though we've stolen from them when in fact it is they that have held the reins to the republic for too long. The Ciompi Rebellion was supposed to end this rule of the elite families and usher an age of egalitarianism. Instead the old power was driven out only to be replaced by a new order. To the common man, nothing ever really changed."

I appreciated Cosimo's zeal for the republic's freedom, but something about what he was saying made me ill at ease. He claimed to be opposed to the tyranny of the old families but, on the other hand, he was trying to place his own family among their ranks. I dared not speak my thoughts, but the more I thought about it the more sour it made me feel.

"Does this mean that Rinaldo was responsible after all?"

Cosimo stood and began pacing. "It's still not the absolute proof that I was hoping for, although I had suspected it all along. He has been the most outspoken critic of my family and would have the most to gain if we were to collapse into ruin. We tread on dangerous ground presently and I would not discount anything."

"Then where does that put us now?"

He looked up, a sly smile on his face. "Where does it put
us
, Mercurio? Well, it leaves me in the same vulnerable position that I was in before all this nonsense came about. It leaves my family on constant guard against a dangerous lunatic with too much ambition and too many powerful friends, including the paters of the old families and even Visconti himself. In fact he probably will see this as a direct challenge since now a member of his own clan has been indicted in a grand coup and this will reflect very poorly on him. Even if we lack the proof needed to pursue any official charges of treason, the seed of doubt has been planted."