The Palace (8 page)

At the top of the staircase he hesitated, studying the half-completed room on
the other side of the gallery. Then, his mind made up, he moved toward the sound
of sawing.

"Oh, it's you, Ruggiero," Gasparo Tucchio said with a friendly wave as he set
down his mallets. "I'm glad of a break. The day is almost over."

Giuseppe followed Gasparo's example and set his saw aside. "It's nearly
sunset. It's been getting cold at night."

"Where's the Patron?" Gasparo asked familiarly. "I saw him leave earlier.
Dressed very fine, he was, all black brocade and a doublet of white velvet under
his mantle."

Ruggiero was not offended by Gasparo's easy manner, or the disparaging
comments of the other three. "My master has gone to the house of Federigo Cossa.
He will do himself the honor of serving the prandium to the man who was his host
for so long."

"Oh, the old alchemist." Gasparo dismissed Federigo Cossa with a laugh. "I
built a new room for him once. He's almost as finicky as Ragoczy." He added,
somewhat more respectfully, "So the Patron is serving the meal? That's just like
a proper Fiorenzeno. I remember when Laurenzo used to serve his guests when they
came to his table. He doesn't do it much anymore."

Lodovico managed to keep the contempt out of his voice. "Ragoczy's becoming
very Fiorenzan. I have heard that he has also distributed clothing to the poor."

"He has been told by Medici that this is expected of all rich men in Fiorenza."
Ruggiero spoke evenly as he studied Lodovico closely.

Carlo put down his saw and slapped Lodovico on the back. "The trouble with
you, amico, is that you're hungry." He turned his attention to Ruggiero. "You
know how it is: a man gets hungry, he gets snappish."

Lodovico had already realized his mistake and gladly seized on Carlo's
explanation for his surliness. "I have been famished this last hour," he
admitted with an ingenuous smile for Ragoczy's manservant. "I'll be glad of
prandium."

To this Gasparo added, "I get cross as a Turk when I miss a meal." He sighed
and pushed his sawhorse toward the nearest wall. "We'll be through here in a
month or so. There's the rest of this floor and the next to do. Then the joiners
can finish everything. A pity. It's been good work."

Giuseppe sighed. "It has," he agreed, somewhat unexpectedly. "I'll never work
on another building like this one, I know that."

Gasparo seemed to remember at last that Ruggiero had asked for this
interview. "Well?" He stood up, much more businesslike. "Is that what you wanted
to talk to us about? I have the men you requested here."

The air grew tenser as Ruggiero took a turn about the room. "You are all men
without families," he said at last. "You are all masters of your trade. You have
been remarkably loyal to your Patron."

The four builders preened uneasily under this praise, which was suddenly
disturbing.

"My master has learned a great deal about you. He is willing to pay you a
great deal of money if you will perform two services for him."

"What services?" Lodovico asked, eyes narrowed.

"In a moment." Ruggiero hesitated, then explained. "There is work to be done
here that no one must know of. Those who work on it will be paid double your
usual wages for the work"—this extraordinary announcement caused a number of
exclamations—"and at the end of it, you must leave Fiorenza forever. You will be
provided with work, wherever you go, and with a certain annual sum for your
maintenance."

"Leave Fiorenza?" Gasparo demanded, torn between anger and utter amazement. "
Leave
Fiorenza
? What nonsense is this?"

"No nonsense," Ruggiero said coldly. "It is my master's condition for the
work you are to do."

Carlo had said nothing, but he ventured the question that Lodovico longed to
ask. "What would the annual sum be? And how do we know we'll be paid?"

"Carlo!" Gasparo turned on him. "Would you do this?"

Carlo shrugged awkwardly. "As Ruggiero has said, I am without family. If
there is work for me elsewhere, and money besides, I am willing to go. I have
better skills than most of the workmen elsewhere." He refused to meet Gasparo's
eyes. "I have never seen another city. My whole life has been lived in the
shadow of il Palazzo della Signoria."

"And for that you should fall on your knees and thank Merciful Heaven!"
Gasparo thundered. "Don't you realize—?"

But Ruggiero interrupted him. "Gaspar', let him make up his own mind."

"You!" Gasparo rounded on Ruggiero, seeking another target for his wrath. "Do
you tell me that Ragoczy thought I would leave Fiorenza? Did he think that a
bribe was enough to make me turn my back on my Arte and my city?"

"No," Ruggiero said kindly. "He did not."

This disarmed Gasparo completely. "But… you said…"

"It is necessary that one man remain in Fiorenza, to be certain that the
others keep their word. Of course, my master wishes you to be that man. He
trusts to your honor, Gasparo."

"And how should I trust to his? What security will he give me?" The builder
had his big hands on his hips and his face thrust forward. "Do not mistake me,
Ruggiero. I am willing to serve the Patron at any time. But I will not do so
blindly. I must have assurances, for my men as well as myself."

Ruggiero smiled blandly but there was steel in his voice as he spoke. "My
master has never broken his word, not in all the years I have known him.
Sometimes he has risked much to keep his word. He is honorable in all things."
He met Gasparo's challenging glance calmly and then touched the tips of his
fingers together.

"Yet you make this offer; he does not. Why should he hold himself to your
promises?" Lodovico asked almost flippantly. "Do you tell us that he'll take on
this obligation because you say he will?"

The builders murmured a moment. Each of them shared some of the doubts in
Lodovico's question, and Carlo added, "He may leave Fiorenza without warning and
we would not see him again."

There was a certain boredom in Ruggiero's response. "My master is known in
Venezia as well as Wien and Fiorenza. If you like, payment may be authorized
from his holdings in either of those cities."

Gasparo had retreated from his aggressive stance and asked with new
consideration, "Why are you so certain of him, Ruggiero? It's not often a man
trusts his master overmuch."

For an answer Ruggiero walked to the unframed window and looked down into the
courtyard. "I know of one instance when a runaway bondsman begged him for help.
There was no reason for my master to trust this man, or to endanger himself on
the bondsman's behalf. But he did. He sheltered the bondsman, restored him to
health, and though the bondsman had been declared a criminal, my master saw that
he was exonerated and that the man who had bonded and tortured his bondsman was
punished." The distant expression cleared from his eyes and he turned away from
the window. "If da San Germano would do so much for a man he found bleeding in
rags, you may be sure that he will honor his word to you."

"Did Ragoczy tell you this, or the bondsman?" Lodovico asked, and gave
Giuseppe a surreptitious jab in the ribs.

Ruggiero did not answer immediately. "It was in Roma, and I had hidden for
days. If he had not found me, I would have died there in the shadows of the
Flavian Circus. He cared for my wounds and brought me back to life. The
bondsman, good artisans, was myself."

Even Gasparo was silent. Roman excesses were legendary, and he nodded grimly
at the picture of abuse Ruggiero had painted. "Well," he said in a bit, "if it
is as you say, I'm willing to learn more of what the Patron offers us. And I
will trust him for your sake, Ruggiero." He glared at the others, daring them to
contradict him.

"I'm interested," Giuseppe said eagerly, and rubbed his ribs where Lodovico's
elbow had poked him.

"So am I." Carlo stepped forward. "I have a cousin who is a sailor. He told
me of London, and the English. I'd like to go there, if it is permitted."

The foreign name was magic. Giuseppe grinned broadly. "I've heard that there
is a city in Poland where the women are as fair as lilies of gold."

"Krakow will please you, I think," Ruggiero said with the ghost of a smile.
"You may not find the women to your taste, but you will like the city."

"Wait!" Gasparo ordered. "This is not settled."

Lodovico shrugged and gestured to the others. "How is it not settled?
Giuseppe will go into Poland, Carlo will go to London and I… I will go to Lisboa,
if it please you." Portugal was far enough away to avoid suspicion, but close
enough for him to make a speedy return to Fiorenza, should that prove worth his
while.

With a sigh Gasparo raised his hands in resignation. "Very well, if you are
all content, what is it to me?" He looked steadily at Ruggiero. "I will expect
to hear regularly of these men. You will arrange that?"

"Certainly. And you will be furnished with proof that the sums have been
paid, annually."

"Va ben'. There is nothing more to say. What must be done to earn this money
and exile?" Gasparo gestured to the other builders. "We will not do anything
contrary to the laws of la Repubblica, the Church and our Arte."

"I don't expect you to." Ruggiero nodded to the builders again. "You are all
men of some intelligence. Perhaps you have noticed that this palazzo is built
upon different lines than other buildings in Fiorenza?" He did not expect an
answer and got none other than nods. "There are several reasons for this, most
of which need not concern you. But there is one reason that is of paramount
importance. Behind the landing on the grand staircase there are two concealed
rooms. There is a third concealed room in the wall of the stable. These rooms
must be finished, and to my master's specifications."

"What is the purpose of these rooms?" Gasparo demanded. "We will not be party
to crimes."

"There is no crime," Ruggiero said in such a way that none of the builders
doubted him. "My master is an alchemist. He does not want to work publicly, as
much for the safety of those around him as for his privacy." He held open his
hands. "It is not that what he does is contrary to the laws, good artisans, it
is that there is danger in the work."

Lodovico's eyes brightened. He knew now that he could turn this knowledge to
good use, either as a way to force more money from Ragoczy or as reward from a
grateful city for revealing an unknown hazard to them. "What do we have to do?"
he asked more eagerly than he had intended. "When do we begin?"

"Tomorrow," Ruggiero said shortly. "But there is something you must do
first."

"What?" Gasparo was suspicious again.

"You must swear a Holy Oath never to reveal what you do here. On your souls
you must swear, as you hope for Paradise." He clapped his hands sharply and in a
few moments Joacim Branco appeared, his long robe flapping around his legs like
broken wings.

"Do you have the document?" Ruggiero asked.

"I have it." The Portuguese alchemist held up an inscribed sheet of
parchment. "It is ready."

Ruggiero looked at the builders. There was a steadiness in his manner that
took away the doubts they might have felt. "Which of you can read?" he asked in
the same tone he would have asked for a table to be moved, or a branch of
candles lit.

There was an awkward moment in spite of this, and at last Gasparo said, "I
do, a little. But I have no Latin."

"This is in your own tongue," Ruggiero said, and took the document from
Joacim Branco. "I will read it aloud, and you, Gasparo, will read with me, so
that there can be no deception. My master orders it be done this way."

The agreement was long, but its language was simple, and at the end, the
builders were more than willing to consent to its condition.

"It is well," Ruggiero said, and added, "You must make your marks in your own
blood."

The builders stopped, and once again there was suspicion in their faces.
Gasparo set his jaw. "Why?"

Joacim Branco was about to take issue with them when a quick gesture from
Gasparo quieted him. "There is a reason," he assured the builders. "My master
makes this request of you."

"If there is a reason"—and from Lodovico's tone of voice it was obvious that
he doubted it—"then you should be willing to tell me what it is. If there is
not, your caprice is not reason enough for me to sign in blood."

Gasparo took up this attitude. "He will have our sworn words, given on the
honor of our souls and salvation. Surely that's enough. Or is there something
more precious than our souls?"

This was the question that Ruggiero had been waiting for. He made a solemn
sign. "No, there is nothing more precious than your souls. And for that reason,
you must guard it. Certainly now you put honor and trust in your salvation. But
what if you are seduced by evil? Then there is no honor in your salvation. Then,
good artisans, your blood will bind you."

Carlo guffawed. "There is nothing that would make me do that."

"Isn't there?" Ruggiero studied his hands. "Would you still be held by this
oath if your mother were being racked, I wonder?"

The builders were silent, and even Lodovico admitted to himself that Ruggiero
had made a powerful argument. At last he said, "After all, why not? If the
foreigner knows us so little, we should oblige him."

The others hesitated, but when Ruggiero handed Lodovico a small knife and
Lodovico confidently cut his finger and made his sign, the rest stepped forward.

"This is most satisfactory," Ruggiero said while the marks on the parchment
dried. "In his appreciation for your kindness, my master asks that you go to the
kitchen. You will find that Amadeo has made a repast for you. It is a full
prandium, with two pies instead of one." This was flying in the face of the
Fiorenzan sumptuary laws, but none of the builders objected.