The Rising Storm rb-3

by Dennis Wheatley

  "What an extraordinary idea!" Roger exclaimed. "And 'tis harsh indeed that families should be debarred from ordering suitably the last rites for their loved ones. I wonder that such an outrageous interference with liberty is not openly defied, and His Highness forced to withdraw so monstrous an edict."

  The Tuscan shrugged. "We are by nature a law-abiding people, and have no means of forcing him to do anything. He is an absolute Monarch, and does not even make a pretence of consulting a Senate, as did the Medici. 'Tis fortunate for us that he is, generally speaking, a beneficent autocrat; yet his absolutism is another factor which makes for his unpopularity, as the demand for popular government in France is not without its repercussions here."

  "In what other ways has he set Holy Church by the ears?"

  "He and his principal adviser, Scipione Ricci, the Bishop of Pistoria and Prato, have encouraged the conducting of church services in Tuscan instead of Latin."

  "I see no great harm in that."

  "Nor I; but the old-fashioned resent it. However, 'tis the priesthood that bears him the most bitter grudge, owing to his having despoiled it of the wealth and power that it has enjoyed for centuries. Twenty years ago Tuscany was entirely priest-ridden. Thousands of begging friars blackmailed their way from door to door, and many thousands of monks idled their lives away in monastries battening on the labours of the peasants. Social custom, too, decreed that every girl lacking a dowry should take the veil; and you can imagine the state of things which followed the unnatural segregation of so many healthy young women. The father confessors and visiting prelates had by long custom come to regard the convents as seraglios, and as a result infanticide in one or other of them had become a daily occurrence. But Peter Leopold put an end to all that. He raised the age for taking the veil and made it in many other ways more difficult to do so, thus greatly reducing the number of young nuns; and in order to give the others something to think about, apart from lechery, he turned all the convents into schools for the education of the local children."

  "That seems an admirable measure."

  "True; but you cannot expect the priests to regard it in that light. Imagine, too, the wailing of the hosts of begging friars when a law was passed reducing their numbers by four-fifths, so that the majority of them were forced to return to the land and do an honest day's work upon it; and the outcry that was made by the monastic orders when certain of them were suppressed and their revenues taken from them."

  "Then the Grand Duke has followed the examples of other monarchs, and enriched himself at the expense of the Church."

  "On the contrary, Monsieur. He funded the money so obtained to abolish tithes, and provide better stipends for the poorer clergy."

  "In that case both his peasantry and village priests should be grateful to him."

  Signor Pisani shook his head. "Had the country folk any sense they would be, but they are ignorant and superstitious; so an easy prey to the multitude of monks and friars he has deprived of an easy living, who go about poisoning the people's minds against him."

  "Yet surely in these measures he has had the support of the better educated among the laity?"

  "To some extent; but they have their own complaints against other reforms he has introduced. He has deprived the nobility of nearly all their old privileges. In Tuscany now no one is exempt from taxation. All must pay according to their means. In that His Highness does not even spare himself. He even has the value of his art collections assessed each year and pays revenue upon them."

  Roger raised his eyebrows. "That is indeed an altruistic gesture. Apart from his strange ordinance about burials he seems to me a model Monarch."

  "He is certainly far better than most, for in a score of years he has doubled the wealth of Tuscany. By making all classes subject to taxation he has reduced the average to eighteen pauls per annum per head, which must be considerably lighter than anywhere else in Europe. I am told that even in England it is in the neighbourhood of forty-five."

  By a swift calculation Roger arrived at 8s. as against £2, but Signor Pisani was continuing:

  "In spite of that he has succeeded in extinguishing our National Debt, and by allowing free trade in corn he has brought its price down to a level which enables us to live cheaper here than in any other part of Italy. Moreover, he is always devising new ways to encourage trade and agriculture. Recently he has offered a gold medal every year for the proprietor who plants the greatest number of new olive trees, and the plantings of the winner this year exceeded forty thousand."

  With a shake of his head Roger took up the Chianti flagon to refill the glasses, and said: "Really, in view of all this, despite the antagonism he has aroused among the priesthood, I cannot conceive why he is not more generally regarded with affection by his people."

  His informative host sank his deep voice to a lower note. "I feel sure, Monsieur, that you will not repeat me, but His Highness has one failing which would render him obnoxious to any race. He is the most furtive and suspicious man that ever was born. I am told that at times he even deceives his most intimate advisers, and 'tis certain that he sets spies upon them. Not content with that, he sets spies upon the spies. His secret police are legion, his curiosity unbounded, and he is for ever prying into the private affairs of every official or person of any consequence at all in the whole country."

  "When he learns that they have committed some fault does he act the tyrant?" Roger enquired.

  "Nay; as a ruler he is remarkable for his humanity. He has much improved the dispensation of justice, abolishing the courts of the feudal lords, and securing for the meanest of his subjects the right of appeal to the highest tribunal. He has also done away with torture and reformed the prison system. But no one likes the thought that their every act is spied upon and reported."

  "What sort of a man is he personally?" said Roger, now working round to the matter that particularly interested him. "Is he easy of access?"

  "By no means," came the prompt reply. "He works too hard to be able to give the time to appear in public except on State occasions. And his natural secretiveness provides a bar against his indulging freely in social intercourse with his nobility. He is most autocratic in tem­perament, believing that the people are quite incapable of reforming themselves, and that their condition can only be bettered by divine inspiration interpreted through their rulers. That, too, is the main­spring of all his religious reforms, as he regards himself as established by God to be the guardian and tutor of his people. Yet, pious as he is by nature, he does not deny himself mistresses."

  "That was also the case with the bigoted James II of England," Roger smiled, "and of Louis XIV of France, even when he was in the toils of the Jesuits."

  "True!" laughed the fat Signor Pisani. "But did you set eyes on our Grand Duchess you would hardly blame His Highness for his infidelities. She is, as you may know, a Spaniard, and sister to die newly enthroned King Carlos IV. A plainer gawk of a woman 'twould be hard to find; she is as yellow as a lemon and pimply at that; so 'tis not to be wondered at that her husband prefers the beds of other ladies, and in particular that of the beautiful Donna Livia."

  "Is this favourite mistress a noble lady or a courtesan?"

  "She is an opera singer, and her voice, while good, is the least of her charms. She has Titian hair, green eyes and a figure ... Ah!" Lacking words to describe it Signor Pisano could only break off and kiss the tips of his fingers with a loud smacking sound in an attempt to show his appreciation.

  "Is she accepted by the Grand Duchess and given apartments in the palace, as was Madame du Barri at the Court of Louis XV ?" Roger asked.

  "His Highness's religious scruples do not permit him to acknow­ledge her openly," Pisani grinned, "so she lives in a house of her own near the Palazzo Pitti, and he goes there to sup with her most nights of the week, except Fridays and Sundays. But the Grand Duchess is so tolerant of her husband's weakness that she often visits his favourite as an escape from her own loneliness. She is a great needlewoman
and frequently takes her embroidery round to Donna Livia's house, to work upon it there in the afternoons."

  Roger regarded his fat landlord with a new interest, and said: "You will, I trust, forgive me, Signor Pisani, if I remark that for an ordinary citizen you seem peculiarly well acquainted with the secrets of the Court."

  The Tuscan laughed again. "That is easily explained, Monsieur. It so happens that I have long enjoyed the friendship of Herr von Streinefberg, who is His Highness's confidential secretary."

  "I wonder, then," said Roger with appropriate diffidence, "if I might trespass on your good nature to arrange for me to meet Herr von Streinefberg ? I have some business to transact while in Florence, in which I am certain his good offices could be of great assistance to me."

  "I would do so willingly, were it possible; but unfortunately my friend left here for Vienna only a few days since on urgent business connected with the Emperor Joseph's illness."

  "With whom then would you suggest my getting in touch with the object of securing His Highness's interest in my affairs?"

  Signor Pisani considered for a moment, then he said: "Monsignor Scipione Ricci enjoys his dubious confidence more than any other man. He has apartments in the Pitti, so I suggest that you should go there and secure an interview with him through one of his secretaries; or, better still, his major-domo, Signor Zucchino. The latter is not a particularly pleasant person, but he has his master's ear, and will, I am sure, pass you in if you grease his palm with a couple of sequins."

  Roger thanked his new friend and, as the bottle was now empty, bade him good night; then went upstairs, well pleased with the informa­tion he had gained at so little cost, to spend an hour with Isabella before going to bed.

  The following morning by nine o'clock he was at the Pitti Palace, enquiring for Signor Zucchino. At first he had some difficulty in making himself understood, as he spoke no Italian, and French proving useless, he had to do his best with Latin and the smattering of Spanish he had picked up from Isabella. But at length he was conducted through a maze of lofty corridors to a little room equipped as an office, where, behind a desk littered with bills, a small man clad in black velvet was sitting.

  Having bowed to him Roger opened the conversation in French, and, to his relief, found that the major-domo spoke sufficient of that language to understand him. He gave his name as Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc, and said that he had just arrived from the Court of France upon business which he wished to discuss with Monsignor Ricci.

  Signor Zucchino's sharp black eyes appraised Roger quickly, then he enquired the nature of die business.

  On Roger declaring that it was a strictly confidential matter, the major-domo showed signs of hauteur; but when his visitor gently clinked the gold in his breeches pocket and, producing two pieces, slid them under a paper on the corner of the desk, his manner changed at once.

  In halting French he said that his master was, unfortunately, absent in Pisa, but would be back in Florence the following day, and he would do his best to arrange an audience.

  Roger then handed him a slip of paper on which he had already written his name and address; and, on the major-domo promising to communicate with him, took his leave.

  Now that he had a free day before him he was extremely anxious to take advantage of it to see the most outstanding of the many art treasures in Florence, so immediately he got back to his lodgings he consulted with Isabella on this project. As they occupied separate rooms, and her servants now referred to her as Madame Jules, no one there had sugges­ted by as much as the lift of an eyebrow that she was not his sister-in-law; and they decided that there could be no risk of her identity being discovered if she went out, provided she wore a mask.

  By half-past ten Hernando had secured a carozza for them, and, leaving Quetzal in his care, they set off like a young honeymoon couple to see the sights of the city. First they paid tribute to the Venus de Medici, as the Venus de Milo was then called, and they agreed that no copies that either of them had ever seen did justice to the supreme beauty of Cleomenes' original. Then they devoted most of the rest of the day to the magnificent collection of pictures in the Grand Duke's residence, the Pitti Palace, which was always open to the public.

  Roger had long been interested in paintings, but the Raphaels, Titians, Rubenses and Correggios aroused his enthusiasm for the art to a degree that it had never previously reached, and he declared that afternoon that when they had a home of their own they must certainly start a collection, however modest its beginnings might have to be.

  It was this which made Isabella insist on stopping at an art dealer's on their way back to Pisani's, in order to buy him a picture as the foundation of his new hobby. By great good fortune they found a small head and shoulders of Saint Lucia, which was Isabella's second name. It was a beautiful little thing of about nine inches by six; the Saint was wearing a robe of brilliant blue, and behind her head there was portrayed a fairy-like scene of woods and a mountain with a tiny castle perched on top. The dealer swore that it was an original Andrea del Sarto, and wanted a hundred and twenty gold sequins for it. Roger demurred at such extravagance, and when Isabella overruled his protests, he would at least have attempted to beat the man down; but she said she would not sully her gift by haggling about its price, and told the dealer to carry it to their lodging, where she would pay him what he asked.

  On their second day in Florence they went out again early in the morning to see the famous sculpture of Niobe striving to protect her children from the murderous shafts of Apollo; and still more pictures. But at eleven o'clock they tore themselves away from a gallery contain­ing some of the finest examples of Benvenuto Cellini's gem-encrusted goldsmith's work, and hurried back to Pisani's, in case a message had arrived for Roger giving him an appointment with Monsignor Ricci.

  However, no word had yet come from Signor Zucchino, and to Roger's intense annoyance he had to waste the whole afternoon kicking his heels in their lodgings without hearing from the major-domo. It was not until he and Isabella were sitting down to supper that a messenger at last arrived, bearing a brief note which said:

  Monsignor Ricci has been much engaged on affairs of State since his return at midday; but he will grant you a few minutes if you attend upon him at half-past eleven tonight.

  The script was in Italian but Isabella understood enough of that language to translate it, and Roger sighed with relief when he learned its purport. After they had supped they ordered another bottle of wine, and sat up making fond plans for the future over it until it was time for him to set out for the palace. Then, having kissed Isabella good night half a dozen times, he buckled on his sword, drew his cloak about him, and went out into the darkened streets of the ancient city.

  A faint moonlight now lit the stone facades of the great mansions, making them even more impressive, and as Roger walked briskly along the narrow, cobbled streets he marvelled once again that so small a country, with a bare million inhabitants, should have proved capable of producing such lasting memorials to the' greatness of its rulers; when the Kings of France, with twenty times their resources, had failed to achieve one-tenth of the grandeur of the Medicis.

  As he crossed the bridge over the Arno he was thinking of Isabella, and the picture of her patron saint that she had bought him that morning. The thought occurred to him that at a not too distant date they must return to Florence for a delayed honeymoon. She seemed to derive as much pleasure from its unique treasures as himself, and in no country except his own had he found such congenial surroundings. Even if the people grumbled about the innovations introduced by their Austrian Grand Duke, they seemed remarkably carefree. There were no midnight beggars in the streets, or outcasts trying to snatch a few hours' uneasy slumber in the shadow of the doorways. The city now slept, its citizens serene, untroubled, secure within their homes. On the far side of the river he entered the street leading to the palace.

  Suddenly a group of dark, swiftly moving figures emerged from the shadows. Roger glimps
ed a patient mule being held by one as the others rushed upon him. Springing back he grasped his sword-hilt. His shout was drowned in the scamper of running feet. He had drawn his weapon no more than six inches from its scabbard before his arm was caught in a fierce grip. Next second he was overborne and hurled headlong into the gutter.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE HOODED MEN

  As Roger went down he kicked out hard. His right foot caught one of his attackers in the crutch, drawing from him a screech of pain. But at least three men had charged in simultaneously and two of them fell right on top of him. Clenching his first he smashed it into the face of one and, with a heave of his body, threw off the other.

  Since the age of eighteen he had been just over six feet in height, but in the past three years he had filled out; so although his slender-boned hips still gave him a fine figure he was now a fully grown man with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. As he never lost an opportunity to practise fencing and often spent many hours a day in the saddle he had no superfluous fat and his muscles were as hard as whipcord. Moreover he had a cool head, great agility and, in a fight such as this, was never handicapped by the least scruples about using unorthodox methods to get the better of his enemies. So, had he not been taken completely by surprise, three or four underfed street roughs would have found that in attacking him they had caught a Tartar.

  Even as it was, he had succeeded in inflicting grievous injury on two of them in as many seconds, and as he rolled over to get clear of the squirming body he had just thrown off he kicked out again backwards. His heel met solid flesh and elicited a spate of curses.

  Thrusting one hand against the cobbles he gave a violent twist of his body and scrambled to his knees. To his dismay he realized that his attackers numbered five at least. Only one lay hors de combat, groaning in the middle of the narrow street. The two others who had knocked him down were staggering to their feet on either side of him; a fourth, who had been holding the mule, was running to their assistance, and the scraping of boots on stone behind him gave warning that one or more of the band were about to take him from the rear.