Merchants of Milan

by Edale Lane

  She followed the roof tops, sometimes having to scramble to a higher plane and others needing to hop down to a lower one, until she neared the slum district. A few die-hards were still running behind on the lane below, but since the Night Flyer was no longer showering them with money, most had given up. She leapt a few narrow alleys, landing hard on the rooftops, but managing to keep her balance. With the adrenaline rush waning, she noticed the cut on her arm. It was still bleeding. How will I explain that to Maddie? was her biggest concern. She had a small bottle of carbolic acid along with other potions in a drawer to her trunk back home with which to cleanse the wound as the Greeks Galen and Hippocrates had advocated, and a honey based ointment to coat it with. She didn’t have bandages, but who would notice if a few cloth napkins went missing from the linens?

  By the time she got to Slues Street, no one was following anymore. The sky was almost completely dark with a cloud covering the moon. She slowed her pace watching her steps closely in the dim light. Then she noted the glow of a fire ahead and followed it. Below in the alley was a small gathering of unfortunates near a blaze contained in a large, low-sided clay pot that was normally used for planting a decorative shrub.

  Florentina wondered what they were saying and if the woman with the cough had secured her medicine, or if the crippled man had received a proper set for his leg. But Madelena would have long been back from her women’s meeting by now, and she needed to tend the cut on her arm. She dropped the last bag of coins into their midst and turned toward home.

  Chapter 19

  Madelena waited in the ladies’ parlor admiring the wooden puzzle box Florentina had crafted for her while Portia sat across the way showing her teenaged daughter, Pollonia, some finer points of embroidering. It was after dark and Maddie’s foot tapped absently in impatience. The piece in her hands was exquisite, and she was reluctant to disassemble it lest she lose a part or be unable to fit them back correctly. She had opened and closed it many times, but she lifted the lid once more. Inside was nestled a pressed and dried red rose that would never wither nor fade. She raised the box to her nose and could catch the faintest whiff of the flower within the strong cedar aroma. It was nearly as special as the woman who carved it, except she was late, and where could she be?

  All three were jolted from their evening activities when Bernardo barreled through the front door shouting, “Mama, Mama, guess what!”

  Madelena carefully set down her treasure and Portia laid aside the needlework. Bernardo had to grab the doorframe to slow his momentum as he slung himself into the room out of breath but with eyes gleaming with excitement. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

  “No, we won’t,” Portia agreed. “So please, do tell. Did your favorite team win the game?”

  “No, the Alpine Bears, that’s not it,” he panted as he let go of the frame and tramped into their midst. “The Night Flyer!” He had to stop to catch his breath, bracing himself with his hands on his knees.

  “Did he attack you?” Portia leapt to her feet and was at her baby’s side in an instant.

  “No, no, Mother, don’t be so-” he protested as he shooed her off of him. “No hugging!”

  Portia lowered her arms with a look of dejection emphasized by a pout. Bernardo was finally taller than his mother and Maddie suspected he wanted to be treated more like the man he hoped to be one day than the baby cradled in his mother’s embrace.

  “Tell us!” Madelena’s attention was riveted to gain a first-hand account of the enigmatic vigilante’s activities.

  “The game had just ended, crowds everywhere in the street, and suddenly overhead, there he was–flying above the city dropping huge bags of coins! Everyone was racing and grabbing what they could, and then he disappeared over the rooftops somewhere. But I saw him fly, on big black wings; it was the pinnacle!” Bernardo finally had his breathing down to a fast normal, but his face positively glowed.

  “See, I told you Portia,” Maddie said. “He is not a notorious criminal. He only robs those who deserve it.”

  “I didn’t see who he robbed,” Bernardo added. “But the money had to have come from somewhere.”

  “I hope he doesn’t stop by here again,” Pollonia said, her brows furrowed with apprehension. “It makes me nervous.”

  Madelena was struck with a sudden concern. “The constables and watchmen will be out chasing him.”

  Bernardo laughed aloud. “No city guard can catch him–He’s the Night Flyer!”

  Just then a knock sounded at the front door which Bernardo in his excitement had left standing wide open. “Is all well with you?” called the voice of watchman Salvador Sfondrati.

  “We’re good,” Bernardo shouted down the hall to him. “Grazie!”

  “Have you heard that the Night Flyer is on the prowl?” Salvador asked taking a step inside the door. “I wanted to be sure you were all safe.” By then Luca, Livia, Angela, Bianca, and the rest of the staff had gathered in the entry hall to discover what the commotion was all about.

  Amid the whirl of excitement, Florentina entered the kitchen through the roof access ladder and tiptoed to her empty room. She quickly changed her clothes and pushed her gear into the secret drawer in her trunk. She tended the cut on her arm, using a washcloth as a bandage, and pulled her sleeve down to cover it. Satisfied that she looked presentable, Florentina used the staircase farthest from the entry to descend so it would appear she was just returning home through the back.

  Upon joining the gathering, who all seemed to be talking at once, she asked innocently, “Did I miss something?”

  It took an hour for the household to return to normal. Even Betta and Matteo were excited hearing about the extraordinary character. With Salvador gone, the children put to bed, and the servants retired for the evening, Madelena invited Florentina to her room and locked the door.

  While Maddie was loosening her hair, Fiore said in a teasing manner, “Your excitement over this masked man is starting to make me jealous again.”

  “Oh, and I can’t be jealous of something or someone, too?” she replied in her own flirtatious tone. “You disappear for hours, sometimes all day; how do I know you aren’t meeting your other lover in some clandestine locale?”

  Florentina’s laugh was so genuine. Does she think no one else could ever find her attractive? Is the idea of other suitors so absurd to her? Her response, however, was languid. “There is no chance of that.”

  Madelena turned, scrutinizing the tall, lanky woman who stood before her. Before she had finished formulating her words, Florentina took a step closer. “I only have eyes for you, Madelena. You are my heart, my treasure. I would never betray your trust.”

  Looking into those deep pools of liquid honey, Maddie saw something shimmer. “But you do have secrets.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” They each stepped nearer and Florentina’s lips took possession of hers. Maddie felt a whirl of emotions vying for prominence–love, passion, suspicion, doubt. What secrets are you keeping from me, Fiore?

  She noticed something wet on Florentina’s sleeve and stepped back with a frown. Then she took the arm to examine it; Fiore let her. “I cut myself on a piece of equipment at the production house today. I know, I was careless, silly me,” she chided. “Saturday is the best time for me to see that everything is in good working order, and especially with Don Alessandro being gone, and I suppose I was in a hurry and didn’t take enough care.”

  Maddie sighed and gave her a cross look. “We should have a physician tend it,” she urged. “That is a deep cut; it will leave a scar. What if it gets red and fills with pus?”

  Florentina’s smile was amused but also comforting. “I trust my own treatments more than those of any physician. I promise we will not need an amputation–no ancient Roman statuary for you, my Sweet.”

  That drew a grin from Madelena and she retied the cloth. “I can at least find you some proper bandages.”

  “That would be appreciated.”

  “We should h
ave an outing tomorrow,” Madelena pronounced with sudden inspiration. “A picnic with the children after Mass, if it isn’t raining.”

  She watched Florentina’s eyes light up. “I would enjoy that very much.” The warmth just flows from her, Maddie thought. No pretentiousness, no games, no demands. She realized that most lovers would not want the children around, would not settle for something so simple, but Fiore was immeasurably easy to please. Whatever Maddie suggested, she was overjoyed with. This had not been so in her previous relationships. The household maid hadn’t lasted long as a lover; she began to feel entitled and push around the other servants. Her father had to dismiss her. With her brief courtship and subsequent marriage to Vergilio, he seldom considered her suggestions as he believed it was his place to make all the decisions. No, this relationship was different, more equitable. Fiore did not behave as her superior nor inferior, but more like a partner. They alternated taking the lead, voicing suggestions, initiating intimacy, and they made decisions together. She found the arrangement exhilarating.

  “Then it is settled.” Madelena brushed her lips to Florentina’s and was met with a rush of pleasure as her thoughts and emotions began to merge into even more wonderful feelings of love, belonging, comfort, oneness, and passion. The kiss deepened into an urgent need, a desire to give everything she was to this woman, to possess all that she had in return. Not yet, she warned herself. Don’t go there too soon. So she held to her, caressed her skin and drank from her lips, letting herself savor every step of the journey like a fine wine.

  Chapter 20

  Cool days with chilly nights accompanied by frequent fog and a fair amount of rain were typical weather for Milan in November, and despite the windy gray of the day outside, within the hall of the Gilda dei Maestri Mercanti was color and warmth as fires blazed in its two hearths. Banners and tapestries hung along the walls to the high-vaulted chamber large enough to fit the membership comfortably. The room was abuzz with conversation as Giovanni Sacchi strolled amid the assemblage. He rose the two steps onto the small platform that separated the council members’ seats from the rank and file.

  Giovanni had been in a particularly good mood since returning from his visit to Venice. No, he had not bought Julia a seaside villa, but she was as pleased as pudding with the new jewels he did give her. Color rose in his cheeks as he recalled how exuberantly the younger woman had thanked him. Upon reaching his seat in the middle of the dais, he lifted a hand to adjust his spectacles as he eyed the crowd. He wore his knee-length red and ebony pleated giornea with its puffy mutton sleeves open exposing a brocade buff waistcoat and black leggings and shoes. He had acquired his new clothes in Venice and wished to project the style and elegance of his position.

  “Gentlemen,” he announced raising a hand in gesture. “Let us take our places and commence with our meeting. We have several important issues to discuss.”

  With chin raised, he waited for everyone to sit before he settled into the middle Savonarola armchair. Giovanni noted the session was well attended, however one of the prime seats on the riser was empty. Alessandro has not returned from his journey, he noted. “I call this meeting of the Master Merchant’s Guild to order.”

  Immediately Don Benetto stood, impatience and hostility radiating from his core. “The first and foremost issue before this assembly today is that damned Night Flyer. Something must be done about him!”

  A few murmurs arose from the floor. “And what do you propose the guild should to do about a thief and vandal? Is that not the purview of the city government?” Giovanni asked.

  “He is a menace, a threat to us all!” Benetto paced back and forth in front of the membership, looking out into their faces and then turning to the council members. “Next time he could strike you, or you, or you–nobody is safe, and the watchmen are afraid of him. I am the only one who even attempts to kill or capture him.”

  “You are the only one he seems interested in harassing.” sounded an amused voice from the midst of the assembly. The comment was met with chuckles.

  “This is no laughing matter!” Benetto fumed, his face a twisted mask of indignation.

  I wish the Night Flyer would stop toying with Benetto and kill him already, Giovanni thought to himself, irritated that the man was co-opting his meeting. Then I would inherit his arms clients and easily become foremost of all the Merchants of Milan. Who would miss him anyway?

  “I’m certain you have all heard of this latest theft, in broad daylight in front of hundreds of witnesses,” the grievance continued. “And who will cover my losses? I need securities, insurance. I propose the guild provide assistance in these matters.”

  One of the younger members asked from the floor, “Are you suggesting we take up a collection for you? Are you in need of our charity?” More snickers followed and Benetto seethed.

  Pointing at the young merchant he shouted, “Just wait until the bastard is breaking into your warehouses and taking away your hard-earned profits!”

  “Don Benetto.” Giovanni spoke patiently, trying to calm the man. “We are all very sorry for the troubles you have encountered, but I fail to see what the guild can do about them.”

  “Sorry?” Benetto spun toward Giovanni and pointed a finger at him in front of the assembly. “You are the one who will benefit most if my House falls. At first I suspected Alessandro but then I saw he had nothing to gain; you do!”

  Unease shifted through the membership as one council member stood accusing another of multiple crimes. Giovanni lifted his palms innocently. “Surely you do not think that I am this notorious flying bandit? What a miracle that would be! Besides, I was in Venice on business during your latest robbery.”

  “No,” Benetto sneered, “not you old man, but your son is an athlete. He could easily perform the acrobatics displayed by the Night Flyer!”

  A few whispers arose as men voiced their soft-spoken opinions. Giovanni shook his head. “Do you forget? Pietro competed in the Calcio championship game in front of thousands of spectators. He was being applauded and congratulated at the same time your mystery marauder was swinging from the city walls.”

  At once the membership all agreed, many of them having seen the game. Giovanni sighed wearily and motioned for Benetto to take his seat. “Come now, my old friend, and be seated. It is not good for you to remain so agitated. Think of the damage to your heart. Speak with the city magistrate tomorrow; we have guild business to attend to, such as how the war is affecting our western trade routes.”

  Benetto grumbled, cursed under his breath, and reluctantly returned to his chair to sulk and smolder while Chairman Giovanni proceeded with the affairs of the guild. No, I am not the fabled Night Flyer, nor is my son–though I would be quite proud if he was. I shall have to keep an eye on this masked mischief-maker, he thought with a twinkle.

  The second Saturday of November, a week and a day after leaving for Bern, Alessandro viewed his majestic city from his seat on a gondola passing effortlessly through the still water. He had taken the craft to and from the canal’s terminus at the base of the Alps and from there arranged travel through the pass. It was faster and more comfortable than making the entire journey on horseback.

  Although Leonardo da Vinci had drawn up plans for a paddle-boat to use on the canals twenty years ago, no transportation line had chosen to build one. Alessandro rode on a traditional nearly flat-bottomed boat operated by a single oarsman standing at the stern. Three other passengers joined him. They had passed many barges laden with cargo headed to destinations near and far–some of them probably his own merchandise. He was pleased with how his meeting had fared and was happy to be returning home.

  Hues of orange, red, and violet were painted to the west as if a huge brush dipped into a rainbow and casually swept the colors across a blue sky, while to the east the first evening star twinkled against a twilight canvas. He was thinking about seeing his lovely wife and daughter again, how they would give him grief for being a day late, and about how grown up Bernardo was
becoming... and wondering how Antonio fared. Is he still in training or have they moved to the front? Surely he would train for more than a few weeks.

  A loud boom rousted him from his musings. He and the other passengers turned, craning their necks to peer up the canal behind their gondola in the direction of the blast. The shocked and shaky oarsman grabbed his hat with one hand and clung white-knuckled to the oar with his other. “D-don’t panic, e-everyone. We, we are safe!” he stuttered.

  About a mile to their rear shot spectacular flares followed by countless reports and then more flames forming a dark cloud at their apex. This was quickly accompanied by another loud boom and it seemed as though the canal water burned a clear distance to their stern.

  “What is that?” gasped a middle aged woman as she clutched the arm of a young man, presumably her son.

  “I don’t know,” the youth replied in a curious tone, “but it is too far away to harm us.”

  The oarsman began to push the small craft with renewed energy. “We must hurry to the docks so I can report this,” he huffed out.

  Alessandro turned his attention back toward home. It is fortunate we were well beyond those Viscardi barges we passed before the Night Flyer struck... then again, I suspect he waited for us to be out of harms way before blowing up the munitions. Interesting fellow; I look forward to meeting him one day.

  Alessandro crept in through the front door to surprise his family. He discovered Maddie, Portia, and Pollonia gathered in the ladies’ parlor playing a game of Frussi with a deck of patterned cards. “Ah ha!” Pollonia cheered with a wide grin. “Four threes, I win!” Her enthusiasm more than doubled when she spotted him peering through the open door. “Papa!” She tossed the cards on the end table and flew across the floor into his arms for a warm hug of welcome.