by D. V. Bishop
‘If you believed you were freeing Florence, why flee the city after killing the Duke? Why hide the body by locking your bedchamber, except to gain time for your escape?’
‘What would you have me do?’ Lorenzino protested. Aldo pressed the stiletto against Lorenzino’s neck, straining the skin. ‘What would you have me do,’ Lorenzino repeated, his voice now a whisper. ‘Should I have shouldered that body like a porter, and gone shouting through Florence like a madman? Did I not have to fear I might be attacked and killed before I had taken three steps outside those doors?’
This tale of woe might convince those who hadn’t seen the bloody bedchamber, who didn’t know the treachery behind the story Lorenzino was crafting to justify his flight from the city under darkness. But there was more. ‘I hoped the tyrant’s body would not be found until exiles were on their way to win back the city’s liberty. It was not my fault that didn’t happen. Not only did I slay the tyrant, I myself went out to exhort those I knew willing and able to fight for their beloved city. I did more than enough in killing him – and saving myself.’
There was the truth. Lorenzino ran to save himself. But Aldo still needed answers before he could deliver Cosimo’s message. ‘Why did your men murder Levi?’
‘The moneylender? I had nothing to do with his death.’
Aldo pushed the stiletto deeper, a bead of blood forming at the tip. ‘Don’t lie to me.’
‘You’ll kill me no matter what I say,’ Lorenzino replied, eyes wide with fear.
‘Everyone dies eventually.’ Aldo pushed his thumb deeper into the wounded hand. ‘But how much you suffer before I leave this room is up to you.’
‘Please don’t,’ Lorenzino begged. Aldo eased the pressure he was applying – for now.
‘Why did your men murder Levi? Was it because he didn’t bring the money you wanted from Bologna?’
‘Why do you keep asking about him? Levi was dead when my man got there that night. Well, he was dying. There was a knife in his chest.’
‘Don’t lie to me!’ Aldo hissed.
‘I’m not,’ Lorenzino insisted. ‘I’ve already confessed to murdering the Duke of Florence. Why would I lie about one of my servants killing a Jew?’
What Lorenzino said unlocked a realization for Aldo. ‘The coin – that’s why you wanted Levi’s murderer found. You believed whoever killed Levi must have taken the coin he brought back from Bologna. You didn’t know he’d left it with his brother.’
Lorenzino grimaced. ‘I sent Scoronconcolo to get the coin. He found Levi dying and took the moneylender’s ledger, in case I was named in it. I was the one who urged the Duke to make investigating Levi’s murder a matter of importance. It was safer to lead events than leave them to chance. I hoped you’d find whoever killed the Jew, so my men could intervene to take the stolen coin. I had a servant follow you from the first time you visited the palazzo.’
‘Il Freccia.’ Aldo cursed himself for not paying attention to his own instincts sooner.
‘While you were hunting the killer, we tried to have the ledger translated. When that failed, I told Scoronconcolo to burn it.’ Lorenzino frowned. ‘How did you get that ledger?’ Aldo shoved his thumb deep into Lorenzino’s bandaged wound, making him gasp in pain.
‘I said I ask the questions.’
A floorboard nearby creaked. Aldo clamped his hand back across Lorenzino’s mouth, listening for more noises. Another creak, then the sound of liquid pouring into a bowl from a height. It continued for what seemed an eternity before pausing. Two more splashes, then the creak of a floorboard, and finally silence once more.
Aldo glanced at Strocchi, who nodded. Nobody was coming, all was well. The sounds had been somebody getting up to empty their bladder, nothing more. It was safe for now, but the longer they lingered here, the greater the chance of being trapped. Aldo took his hand from Lorenzino’s mouth. ‘Why insist I find the killer by Epiphany, why the urgency?’
‘Captain Vitelli and most of the ducal guard were returning after the feast day. To have any chance of overthrowing Alessandro, it had to happen before then.’
Strocchi was becoming restless at the door. ‘We should leave.’
Aldo nodded his agreement. ‘One last question. Why were you borrowing a small fortune from Levi? To pay for men at arms, or to fill your pouch for a new life outside the city after stabbing your cousin in the back?’
Lorenzino sneered. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Aldo said, pushing all his weight into the wounded hand. The Medici fugitive cried out, his pain subsiding into weak sobs. Aldo released the hand. ‘Tell me.’
‘The coin was for me,’ Lorenzino admitted. ‘An armed revolt might have succeeded at first, but the Emperor would never release his hold on the city. I chose to kill the man I hated instead, and give the people a chance to reclaim their freedom.’
‘While you fled in the night, with a pouch full of coin and a belly full of vengeance.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Lorenzino hissed. ‘I brought down a tyrant. I freed Florence.’
‘You killed one Medici, but the Palleschi are already replacing him with another.’
‘So soon? Who? Who is it?’
Aldo enjoyed Lorenzino’s dismay. ‘I expect it will be Cosimo, the son of Maria Salviati.’
‘But he’s just a boy! He’ll never rule Florence.’
‘That’s what the Palleschi are banking on, but he might surprise them.’ Aldo pressed the stiletto against Lorenzino’s neck again. ‘We met Cosimo on the way here. He gave me a message for you.’ Leaning closer, Aldo could see terror in Lorenzino’s eyes. ‘You can never return to Florence, never walk its streets again. If you do, you will be arrested, you will be tried and you will certainly be executed. You are banished from the city for the rest of your natural life. Do you understand?’
A hurried nod.
‘One day, your rightful punishment will find you. It might be poison in your food, a knife in your back, or a serpent in your bed. You’ll never be sure when that punishment is coming to claim you, but know that it will. So spend the rest of your days – however few they might be – looking over your shoulder, waiting for vengeance to find you.’
‘Y-You’re not going to kill me?’
Aldo gestured to Strocchi, who joined Aldo by the bed. They used sheets to bind Lorenzino round his ankles, wrists and elbows. A sour smell reached Aldo – at some point Lorenzino had lost control of himself. Aldo tied a gag across Lorenzino’s mouth, silencing him. ‘We’ll be halfway to Florence when you’re found in the morning, lying in your own piss.’ Aldo spat in his face. ‘That’s for killing Dante because he helped me, and for putting me in Le Stinche. Be grateful Cosimo said to leave you alive, otherwise I’d do far worse.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Thursday, January 11th
Bindi arrived at the Podestà later than usual. Florence’s new leader had decreed daily visits from the segretario were not necessary unless there was something exceptional to report. Two briefings a week would suffice. So be it. Bindi allowed himself the luxury of rising after dawn, lingering over his morning meal. After the ignominy of being mocked by the former Duke, this new leader had been a welcome relief. It was all quite pleasurable.
Less of a joy was finding a young constable – Benedetto, that was his name – pacing back and forth in the courtyard. ‘Segretario, I feared you must be ill.’
‘Clearly, I am not,’ Bindi replied, dismissing him with a gesture. But the constable followed him up the stairs, darting about as though he was an overeager pup.
‘A young woman came to see you. I explained you weren’t here, but she insisted.’
‘I trust you had the good sense to send her away.’
‘Oh. Is that what I should have done?’
Bindi paused at the top of the stairs, catching his breath. Each day the climb seemed steeper. ‘Where is she now?’
‘In your officio.’
The segre
tario stalked to the door and threw it open. A young woman of some twenty summers was sitting in front of his desk. She waited till he sank into his chair before speaking. ‘Segretario, my name is Rebecca Levi. I come seeking my late father’s ledger.’
Levi, Levi, how was that name familiar? The moneylender, slain in his home. This must be the daughter. But why was she asking for a ledger? Ahh, the book Aldo presented as proof of a conspiracy against Duke Alessandro. The less said of that, the better. The stench of burnt leather billowed out every time he opened the desk drawer it was lurking in. ‘I’m sorry, but the ledger is evidence in a matter before the Otto.’
The young woman’s face crumpled. What on earth was the matter with her? ‘Is it important evidence?’ she asked, sniffing a little.
‘All evidence is important,’ Bindi lied. Having examined the ledger, he believed there was little of value inside – especially as the person it implicated had fled the city. All the ledger proved was that the segretario had failed to give Aldo’s talk of a plot enough credence.
‘I understand.’ Her eyes were brimming now. ‘It’s just the ledger has great personal significance. It is one of the few examples of Father’s writing left. To have it back would be . . .’ She burst into tears, sobbing openly in front of him.
What on earth was he supposed to do? Bindi considered his options. The ledger was of no practical use to the Otto. There was an argument for having it gone from his officio, so nobody could use it as proof of negligent judgement. And surrendering it would rid him of this weeping woman. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the desk drawer. The stomach-turning stench rose from the book, despite the rough cloths encasing it.
‘The ledger was already damaged when it came into my possession,’ the segretario said, removing it from his drawer. ‘If you have any complaints about its condition, I suggest you address those to Cesare Aldo, the officer who brought it here.’
The young woman nodded, wiping away her tears. ‘Thank you.’
‘I give this evidence into your safekeeping on the understanding it be made available if the Otto should require the ledger in the next few months.’
‘Of course.’
Satisfied, Bindi let go of it. She clutched the ledger to her chest and rose, bowing to him, showing the respect his position deserved. Would that others did the same. Bindi nodded in magnanimous acknowledgement, watching her leave. Once she was gone he went to the shutters and threw them open, hoping to banish the acrid aroma the ledger had left behind.
Good riddance to the damned thing.
By the time dawn broke, Aldo and Strocchi were far enough away from Le Casette to stop worrying. They had ridden through the night, but much of that was at walking pace, letting their horses find a way in the thin moonlight. Aldo kept expecting to hear pursuers, but none came. He and Strocchi stopped in Bologna to eat and managed to find fresh horses. Aldo took the last of Saul’s powders before they continued south. That would have to see him home.
He didn’t want to consider what was waiting in Florence. Cerchi was full of bluster, but his most recent dark threats had sounded different. Setting those aside was easier while hunting for Lorenzino, when there’d been a chance of not making it back. Now the journey home had begun, Aldo knew he must face whatever evidence that merda had.
‘Do you think we’ll make it back today?’ Strocchi asked.
‘Perhaps.’ The pain was ebbing away, the powders doing their job. Aldo could ride faster now, though he would suffer for it later.
‘Didn’t think we’d be home so soon. Tomasia has my bed until tomorrow.’
‘Having met her, I suspect you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight.’
The constable frowned. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.’
‘If it’s about Tomasia, you know as much as I do.’
‘No, it’s Lorenzino. Did you believe what he said about not having Levi slain?’
‘He’d already confessed to killing the Duke. There was no reason for him to deny involvement with Levi’s stabbing. One murder or two, the punishment’s the same. But his conspiracy did succeed in distracting me from finding Levi’s true killer.’
Strocchi nodded. ‘So if Lorenzino’s men didn’t murder the moneylender, who did?’
The answer was obvious, but Aldo didn’t want to give it voice. Not till he was certain.
Rebecca let Sciarra hammer at the door a while before opening it. The little moneylender shoved his way inside, coin jangling in his pouch. ‘Well, where’s this ledger then?’ Sciarra demanded. ‘I’m not giving you a single giulio till I see it.’
She went to a cupboard and retrieved the book, wrapped in several layers of fresh cloth to mask its burnt aroma. ‘I’m not a fool, despite what you may think. Father spent a lifetime gathering the names in here. I know it has value far greater than your offer.’
Sciarra huffed out his cheeks, making a show of considering. ‘I could give you . . . half as much again. But no more than that.’ He folded his arms, trying to show certainty. Fool.
‘For that amount I might as well keep it,’ Rebecca replied, reaching to put the ledger back in the cupboard. She glimpsed panic in Sciarra’s face. He would pay anything for it.
‘Two thirds,’ he said, the words hasty. ‘But not a giulio more.’
Where were Joshua and the doctor? She would have to delay this grasping bastardo till they arrived. ‘I want five times what you first offered.’
Sciarra sucked in breath between his teeth. ‘Five times?’
‘That’s my final offer,’ Rebecca said, enjoying his discomfort.
‘I’d have to double my rates for a year to cover that.’ He was still squirming as Joshua and Orvieto arrived. Sciarra protested their presence, but Rebecca ignored his whining.
‘Are we agreed, or not?’
‘Five times is too much,’ Sciarra insisted. ‘I could pay twice what I offered, here and now – with half as much again in three months. Is that not fair?’
‘For what’s inside this? No. But to be rid of you I’ll accept it. Count your coin onto the table and you can have Father’s ledger.’ The moneylender did as he was told, his eyes never leaving the well-swaddled book. Finally, he reached out a hand for the ledger.
Rebecca hesitated. It was possible the Otto might demand the ledger back, if those who had killed Father stood trial. The chances of that ever happening seemed remote but, should such a day come, she would need a plausible tale to explain the ledger’s absence. She could worry about that later, there was business to be done. She gave the ledger to Sciarra while Orvieto swept the coin from the table. Sciarra undid the wrappings, letting them fall to the floor, his eyes gleaming. But when he saw the ledger, disbelief clouded his face.
‘What’s this?’
‘The ledger was stolen the night Father died. The thief tore out many pages and burnt the rest.’ Rebecca didn’t mention damaging the pages that had remained with her own hands.
‘But this . . . this is useless! I can’t read any of the names, the entries.’
‘You bought the ledger. You never said it had to be intact.’
‘You tricked me.’ He reddened. ‘I want my coin back – every last giulio!’
Joshua stepped in front of Sciarra, hands clenching into fists. ‘Don’t think you can threaten Rebecca. Anyone who hurts her will answer to me.’
Orvieto cleared his throat. ‘What would it do to your reputation, Sciarra, if debtors heard you had reneged on a deal, properly made? How could they ever trust you?’
Sciarra seethed and spat curses before leaving, the ledger still in his grasp. Joshua shut the door as Rebecca burst out laughing. ‘That’s the first time I’ve been truly happy in days.’
‘I hope you will find more to make you happy soon,’ Joshua said.
‘It’s time you got back to work,’ Orvieto said, guiding Joshua to the door. He left, but the doctor lingered. ‘Have you made a decision about your feelings for Joshua?’
‘I have,’ Rebecca replied.
He nodded. ‘I’m glad. Joshua will be studying with me for the rest of the day. Come and see us later. Let Joshua know your true feelings. No matter what you’ve decided, I’ll be there to support both of you.’
It was late afternoon when Strocchi and Aldo crested the hill to see Florence below. They’d ridden hard and fast, racing to get back. The constable was surprised to realize he was happy to see Florence. It wasn’t home, not yet. But three days and nights on the road certainly had him craving his own bed.
‘Once we get through Porta San Gallo, make sure you get the horses looked after,’ Aldo said. ‘We’ve ridden them too hard, they deserve to rest.’
‘Of course. Where will you be?’
‘Reporting to Palazzo Medici. Meet me at the Podestà after, and we’ll go to via dei Giudei together.’ Aldo urged his horse forwards. ‘This ends tonight.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Maria had found the perfect place to watch those coming and going from Palazzo Medici. A comfortable chair on the middle level – opposite the main entrance – gave her a clear view of each arrival as they paused by the courtyard. Campana might decide who got an audience with her son, but Maria liked to see their faces. Most were court functionaries, or members of the Palleschi, men of little interest to her now Cosimo was the city’s leader. But the arrival of Cesare Aldo, looking haggard and weary, was another matter.
She swept round the corner to meet Aldo on his way to Cosimo’s private officio. ‘I’d heard you weren’t expected for another day. It seems the gossip was wrong, for once.’
‘Congratulations on Cosimo’s election,’ Aldo replied. ‘You must be proud.’
‘What mother wouldn’t be?’ She stopped him outside the double doors, a hand on his arm. Aldo looked even more tired this close, and his clothes were ripe with the stench of horse. ‘It’s remarkable how quickly things can change, isn’t it? Twelve days ago Cosimo and I were living in a crumbling castello, without prospects.’
