Medici ~ Ascendancy

by Matteo Strukul

  26

  The Beginnings of a Plan

  The gaoler was a tall man with an open face. Certainly, appearances often meant nothing, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to indicate sincerity, and that was a relief.

  Contessina hoped that she was right.

  After asking her very politely if he could check she wasn’t carrying anything suspicious, Federico Malavolti – for that was his name – led her up an endless staircase of steep, slippery steps. Contessina shivered at the damp cold of the Tower of Arnolfo. The thick stone walls, lit by the flickering red flames of the torches set at intervals along them, were icy, and a draught blew from under the door that gave on to the ramparts. Eventually, they reached the iron door of the Alberghetto and Malavolti detached a large set of keys from his belt, chose one of the longest, and inserted it into the lock, which snapped open with a metallic creak. Malavolti opened the door and gestured to Contessina to enter.

  ‘Stay for as long as you want, my lady. When you wish to leave, just bang on the door. I will be here waiting for you.’

  Contessina nodded and, without wasting any more time, went inside.

  As soon as she found herself inside that cramped, damp space, she heard the lock snap shut behind her. The cell was dimly lit by several candles, which barely held off the thick, dense darkness that seemed to fill the entire space. Cosimo was lying on the bench, but as soon as he saw her, he jumped to his feet and embraced her. As Contessina allowed herself to be crushed in his arms, she murmured the first words she had spoken since she had come to the tower.

  ‘Cosimo, my love, how are you? I came as soon as I could.’

  When he looked her in the face, she saw that he was pale and drawn. Only two days had passed, but prison seemed to have already taken its toll upon him.

  ‘My beloved Contessina, we must act quickly,’ he said. ‘There’s little time and hesitation could be fatal.’

  First of all, though, she wanted to know how he could have lost so much weight in only two days and two nights. ‘Are you hungry, Cosimo? Because if you are, I know exactly what I shall say to your gaoler.’

  Gazing at her, he couldn’t suppress a wave of admiration at the sight, in the dim candlelight, of her pugnacious expression, incongruous on such a kind and elegant face.

  ‘I have no doubt that you do, my love. But the truth is that I’m the one refusing the food they bring me.’

  Contessina raised an eyebrow.

  ‘The thing is – I’m afraid that it might be poisoned.’

  ‘Really? You think that man...’

  ‘No, not him. He is only my gaoler, but none of us know who prepares the food, and I find it hard to imagine that it is not someone close to Rinaldo degli Albizzi – perhaps even someone in his pay.’

  ‘But you can’t go on like this,’ she said, her voice breaking with worry.

  ‘Nor can I run the risk of being right.’

  ‘So what do you propose to do? You know I can’t bring food into the tower. And even if I did, they would find it, you can be sure of that.’

  ‘That is why we must act quickly, whatever we decide to do.’

  ‘Lorenzo is assembling an army, and intends to attack the city with as many men as possible.’

  ‘What?’ asked Cosimo. Knowing his brother’s temperament, he had imagined that Lorenzo’s reaction would be to take up arms – but not that he would try to assemble an entire army. His brother was a man of his word, though, and if he had promised himself that he would free him, he would do everything in his power to keep his vow. Cosimo doubted that it was a wise solution. In fact, he didn’t think it was a solution at all.

  ‘Yes,’ said Contessina. ‘I told him that it was a lunatic idea. As much as I agree that we must get you out of here, I think we need to seek another way.’

  Cosimo nodded. Those were his own feelings exactly.

  ‘I agree. We should immediately try to put into action a plan that can guarantee if not my freedom – as I despair of that – at least my exile.’

  ‘Better away from Florence than dead.’

  ‘Exactly. But tell me, how are Piero and Giovanni?’ asked Cosimo, changing the subject to less unpleasant matters for a moment.

  ‘Giovanni is well. As well as is possible. Piero insisted on going with his uncle. You know how mad he is about soldiering. That boy will break my heart.’

  Cosimo shook his head. ‘Another reason to avoid a battle. We have everything to lose and nothing to gain from a war against Florence.’

  ‘I agree, but what do we do?’ said Contessina desperately.

  Cosimo’s eyes wandered the dark space of the cell. It was as though the sparks of a plan were floating in the air – as though he had taken notes on some imaginary parchment. Now he considered it, that was exactly what he had been doing in all those hours of waiting.

  ‘I have thought a great deal while I have listened to the shouting of the people down in the square. I know that Bernardo has convened the Council of the Two Hundred and that the Eight of Guard will make their choice, but the final decision is the Gonfaloniere’s, since it is he who has the greatest power to influence and address the decisions of the institutions. And so I asked myself, why should a man who has already taken sides for money not do so again?’

  ‘You want to bribe him, then?’ she asked.

  ‘I think it’s the only chance we have. And I will need you to help.’

  ‘Anything, my love. If truth be told, that was my intention from the very beginning.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be too complicated. You see, my dear Contessina, I know for certain that my gaoler, Federico Malavolti, is a good soul.’

  ‘I too felt that.’

  ‘He is, believe me. He is a respected, worthy man who does not have it in his heart to see me dead, that I can say with certainty.’

  ‘For that I rejoice – but how can he help us?’

  Her voice came out like a fragile thread about to snap. There she was, discussing with her husband how to save his life, and the idea terrified her. All she wanted to do was take him by the hand and lead him home.

  ‘Well, it so happens that Malavolti knows very well a certain Messer Farganaccio, familiar of Bernardo Guadagni.’

  ‘I think I understand,’ murmured Contessina, a smile appearing on her lips. ‘You intend to get to Farganaccio, so he can bribe Guadagni.’

  ‘That’s right,’ confirmed Cosimo, ‘and by doing so, to buy my exile.’

  27

  Nocturne with Fire and Blood

  Lorenzo had ridden for two whole days. He had unleashed the agitators in the city and now several hundred armed men, including nobles and soldiers, were camped on the plain outside Florence. He watched the sun melt into the red of the evening sky and the fires of torches and braziers blaze in the darkness.

  He stood at the entrance to his tent, aware that in two days’ time, he would move against his own city. The situation had escalated and he knew that he had to act quickly. His spies had told him that Cosimo was still alive, but he certainly wouldn’t remain that way for long.

  The Council of the Two Hundred was split between those who wanted the death sentence and those who were asking for exile. All things considered, the second was not so very different from a pardon. It would be problematic, of course, but the family could continue to run the bank and its many entrepreneurial initiatives even from another city, perhaps from Venice. There was, however, no guarantee that exile would be the verdict.

  Lorenzo knew that fighting was the extrema ratio. He was a banker, by God! He knew about accounts, writing bills of exchange, keeping a balance sheet, opening a new office: he was certainly no professional soldier, much less a killer. He knew how to defend himself if necessary, but that was as far as it went, so he hoped that the Gonfaloniere of Justice would choose exile when he learned that an army was gathering at the gates of Florence: an army he would have to face if he decided upon a death sentence. And Bernardo Guadagni must already have been infor
med of Lorenzo’s initiative and of the potential consequences of his actions.

  The truth was that Lorenzo put more faith in the power of the threat than in any actual battle. It was true that many Florentine nobles had arrived at the camp over the last few hours to give their support to Lorenzo and Cosimo, among them Piero Guicciardini, Tommaso and Niccolò Soderini and Puccio and Giovanni Pucci. Some of them had taken the Medici side out of envy and hatred of their own relatives and therefore with the sole purpose of obstructing them, but this mattered little to Lorenzo – whatever their motives, those who hated Rinaldo degli Albizzi and his friends were their allies.

  He was reasoning thus when cries began to disturb the stillness of the night. Lorenzo raced out of the tent and plunged a torch into the brazier at the entrance, sending red sparks up into the black sky. Clad in leather jackets and steel armour, the men were all running breathlessly towards the other side of the camp. A cold sweat ran down Lorenzo’s back and he felt a terrible suspicion as he began to run too.

  As he approached the point whence the cries came, he realized what was happening. Together with the desperate shouting of the men, there was another sound – the whinnying of horses.

  Someone was stealing them.

  In that moment, a disturbing spectacle materialized before him. Black-clad men were driving the creatures out from their enclosures so as to leave his men on foot and slow them down, depriving them of much of the impact they would have when they entered the city.

  He saw that their enemies had not totally succeeded in their aim: the guards had spotted them just in time. They hadn’t been able to prevent the first enclosure from being thrown open, nor the horses from knocking down at least a dozen tents in their frenzied rush, but they had managed to impede the attackers. They had killed those who were trying to open the other enclosures and were fighting with some on horseback who had been about to lead the freed horses away from the camp.

  Someone had knocked the braziers over. Bodies lay on the earth, the corpses etched with wide, vermilion ruts. Blood soaked the soil and wherever he looked there were collapsed tents, burned wood and broken swords. He unsheathed the sword hanging from his belt.

  A group of horsemen appeared in front of him, one of them swinging his sword. He was dressed in black and wore a doublet and long cloak of the same colour and a tight armet without a visor. He slashed open one soldier’s back as he passed. His face was smeared with blood, and his teeth clenched in a grimace: it was Schwartz. Lorenzo saw him choose his target carefully – a foot soldier, whose head he removed from his body with a single gleaming slash. The victim fell to his knees while his head disappeared into the darkness.

  Schwartz was as cold and emotionless as the iron of his blade. Until he saw Lorenzo.

  He smiled, and saluted him mockingly. A soldier threw himself at him, but Schwartz held him off and, swinging his horse around, sunk a foot and a half of steel into the man’s chest. He left his sword inside his opponent’s body and unsheathed a second one which he used to deliver a second, diagonal blow.

  The soldier brought his hands to his throat as his blood poured out. He fell to his knees and collapsed with his face in the dust.

  As the horses galloped away, Schwartz took a last look at him and Lorenzo felt an inexplicable cold invade his limbs. He stood there motionless, as though frozen by the man’s eyes. In the light of the torches they were a strange colour.

  For a moment, it seemed to him that they were yellow.

  He couldn’t help trembling. There was something about Schwartz that spoke of an almost supernatural cruelty. He stood watching him as he joined the last of the horses, spurring his mount into a gallop and, unhindered, leaving the camp.

  Lorenzo felt like a coward for not having attempted to stop him.

  As much as Schwartz frightened him, he knew that sooner or later he would have to face him.

  28

  To Change the Course of the Stars

  Laura had no intention of letting things continue as they were. She had to act right away or it would be too late. And she would never forgive herself for not taking advantage of the opportunity fate had so generously offered her.

  She found Rinaldo degli Albizzi sitting at the table, enjoying a goblet of red wine. He loved to dine alone. The man was feared by all and had no friends, only allies, and all of those were terrified of him, which made them unreliable and primed for betrayal.

  It was a sorry state of affairs.

  She had prepared herself with infinite care, because she wanted to make an impact. She had chosen a pearl-grey gamurra with a low and particularly provocative neckline that emphasized her ample, tawny bosom. Her long, well-kept nails were painted a fiery red and the thick black make-up around her green eyes gave them a further note of mystery and seduction. She wore sleeves of black and scarlet braided thread studded with silver coins, which both revealed and hid her beautiful arms.

  When she appeared before him, Rinaldo’s eyes widened with desire. He said nothing, but stood up from the table and beckoned her over to him, plunging his rapacious hands into her décolletage and grabbing her large breasts like long-sought-after treasures. He took them in his hands, biting greedily at her nipples. Laura was quick to slip her right hand into his breeches, grabbing his swollen member. She uncovered the glans and teased it with her fingertips, and Rinaldo gasped with pleasure. She raised her dress – under which she wore nothing except for her long black stockings – and offered herself to him, kneeling down like a cat and lifting her buttocks towards him. He grasped her long black hair and pushed her head into a cushion until she almost suffocated. He wanted to dominate her. She moaned with pleasure, increasing his desire. She felt the tip of his member against her, the first drops of wetness on her thighs. With his hands between her legs, he lingered with his fingers, and inserted first two and then three until she was soaking wet. Finally, he lost control and penetrated her, making her cry out with wild pleasure.

  While he was inside her, Laura spoke to him.

  ‘Punish me,’ she said, ‘hurt me even more.’

  The pleasure was such that Rinaldo feared it might drive him out of his mind. He hissed insults at her, seizing her hips as if he wanted to break her in two.

  ‘Make me happy, Rinaldo,’ she murmured between moans, ‘kill Lorenzo and Cosimo de’ Medici. Promise me.’

  ‘I will,’ he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. ‘I swear to you that I will.’

  *

  Contessina stared at Federico Malavolti for a long time. He betrayed no embarrassment, and held her gaze.

  As soon as she had left the cell, she had felt that she must talk to him about the issue of Farganaccio. Just like the question of the food, the business could not wait, so she decided to go straight to the point.

  ‘Why are you poisoning my husband’s food?’ she asked him.

  Federico was taken aback. His eyes opened wide with surprise.

  ‘Why do you say that, my lady?’

  ‘My husband says his food is poisoned. He doesn’t think it’s your fault, but he fears that Rinaldo degli Albizzi is tampering with the meals you bring him from the kitchens.’

  Federico shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘That’s impossible, my lady.’

  ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘I swear it to you.’

  ‘And how can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because I have a trusted man who checks the preparation of the dishes.’

  ‘And do you trust him enough that you can be sure he is not lying?’

  Federico Malavolti sighed.

  ‘My lady, I can swear to you that I did not want Messer Cosimo to be imprisoned in the Alberghetto. I cannot claim to be a supporter of the Medici but nor am I a supporter of those who oppose him. I am a man of honour, or at least I try to be, and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to Messer Cosimo. For my part, I secretly hope that the Gonfaloniere of Justice will decide for exile. You must understand that my on
ly intention and purpose is to oversee the imprisonment of Cosimo de’ Medici in order that he need suffer no more than he already does, and his refusal of the food I bring him is as much a cause of anguish for me as it is for you.’

  Contessina sensed that Federico Malavolti’s words came from the heart, and it was with not a little surprise that she found herself touching his arm. After all, she had to trust someone. What more had the Medici to lose than they had already lost? But although Contessina might trust him, given the circumstances she could not be content with words alone.

  ‘What would you be willing to do to show me you mean what you say?’

  ‘From now on, I will personally taste each dish that is brought to Messer Cosimo and I will do so in front of him, so that I will die before him if it has been poisoned. I hope this is enough.’

  ‘Would you truly do that?’

  ‘As truly as I see in you a woman in love.’

  Contessina was silent for a moment.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘There’s no reason to feel embarrassed.’

  ‘I’m not embarrassed, not at all – it’s just that if it is visible, that makes me weak. Vulnerable. My enemies could use my feelings to strike even more deeply at Cosimo.’

  ‘No, my lady,’ said Federico. ‘There is no woman stronger than she who is in love.’

  Contessina sighed. ‘So be it,’ she said. ‘You, Federico, seem to me to be both wise and sincere. Thank you for what you will do for Cosimo... And in this regard, I have another favour to ask of you.’

  ‘I am listening.’

  Contessina searched for the right words. What she was about to ask was no small thing: even though Federico was a good-hearted man, he would have every right to refuse her.

  ‘I gather that you are a friend of a man who has a reputation as an excellent orator and dining companion. I am referring to Messer Farganaccio. My husband knows him well and I would like you to organize a dinner here. It would provide my husband with a pleasant evening and an occasion...’ Here Contessina stopped, to allow Malavolti to imagine what she was implying without actually saying it. ‘An occasion for Cosimo to start eating again.’