The Thief Of Peace

by Jess Whitecroft

“Wait,” said Teo, mortified. “If you’re so sure I killed Armando, why didn’t you say anything? Why aren’t you calling for justice.”

  The abbot stood up, leaning over his desk. “Because God’s justice will reach you sooner rather than later,” he said, but out of the corner of his eye Teo saw the glint of gold and guessed the abbot’s real motivation. A murder in the abbey would have repelled all those oh-so-generous pilgrims.

  Teo rose to his feet. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

  “Believe what you will. You always did anyway. Do you think I want people to know that a young man under my care ended up strangled and gelded like a yearling horse?”

  Teo dropped back into his chair, almost missing the seat entirely, so that the legs scraped loudly against the stone floor. He covered his mouth with his hand, remembering those sad, bloody fragments of flesh. The crash as his father hit the floor, broken beyond repair. He gagged and then his legs seemed to remember how to work once more as he scrambled and staggered for the door. He didn’t have much to bring up, just a few pieces of dry bread he’d forced down because he told himself he must have something, but he went on retching even though his stomach was empty. On some level he’d seen this coming, too, but the confirmation was still a shock.

  The abbot touched his shoulder. “You didn’t know?”

  “Of course I didn’t know. But where was the blood? I never thought of it because there should have been blood everywhere, but when I found Armando’s body…”

  “The ground was very dry,” said the abbot. “It sucked down his blood like a sponge, so the stain was not so large. You really didn’t know, did you?”

  Teo allowed himself to be led back into the room. “No. I didn’t. But now I do. Oh God.” He sipped gratefully from the cup the abbot offered him. “They sent them to my father. His…Armando’s…they cut them off and sent them to my father.” Light dawned in the abbot’s eyes. “That’s how he died. They sent them in a parcel, and when my father saw them he went into an apoplexy and he never…he never recovered consciousness.”

  “Teo, I am so sorry. Truly. I had no idea.” The abbot shook his head and exhaled. “It’s as you say, then. A case of mistaken identity.”

  “Apparently.”

  “And I accused you…I’m so sorry.”

  Teo swallowed down another mouthful of water. It tasted muddy, as though doubts and death had polluted the abbey’s previously clean and excellent well.

  “My son,” said the abbot, touching his arm. “It’s not too late for you, you know. I know you have…vile affections, but you can still be forgiven. With prayer, with patience…”

  Teo held up a hand and made for the door, his stomach churning once again at the thought of all those pilgrims pissing in the well. Or worse. “I don’t think so, Father,” he said, nodding to the chests against the wall. “Perhaps remove the plank from your own eye before fretting about the speck of sawdust in mine.”

  He strode back down the cloister, desperate to be away from this tangle of gullible humanity and back in the saddle, with the wind in his hair and hooves beating beneath him. Giancarlo fell into step beside him. “Are you all right? You look awful. What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Come on. If the Medici wants evidence, I’ll give him evidence.”

  They rode fast back to the city and headed straight for the Palazzo Vecchio. This time they found the regent alone in his study. “Oh no,” he said. “Not you again.”

  “Your Grace, I apologise if I seemed arrogant last time,” said Teo, bowing low. “But please, hear me. I’ve just come from the monastery of San Bendetto, where a brother was recently murdered, as I believe I told you before. I think I can prove who did this.”

  “Go on.” Francesco di Medici leaned back in his chair, arms folded. There was a spark of something like interest in his dark eyes, and Teo – glancing around the cluttered study with its scientific instruments and books on alchemy – remembered that the regent loved to cultivate his image as an intellectual. Space to cultivate common ground, perhaps.

  “The items that were sent to my father…” Teo began, but Medici cut him off immediately.

  “The balls?”

  “Yes. They belonged to the brother who was murdered at San Bendetto. Whoever killed him also gelded him and sent his testicles to my father.”

  Medici frowned. “This is what you’re trying to prove? That makes no sense at all.”

  “I agree,” said Teo. “It doesn’t. Unless you look at it from a different angle. Now, the Ribisi brothers threatened Giancarlo here until he gave them the details of my day at the monastery…”

  “Everything, your Grace,” said Giancarlo. “Right down to how he went to feed the pigs in the evening.”

  “And that’s when it happened,” said Teo. “The monk Armando was murdered at the pigsty after Vespers. The Ribisis knew that I was going to be there, but that night I wasn’t. I was sick, and I asked Armando to feed the pigs for me. He went in my place…”

  “…and died in your place.” Medici nodded. The light of interest in his eye was brighter now.

  “Yes, your Grace. They intended to kill me, end my father’s line once and for all, and send my organs to him as a message, but they accidentally killed the wrong monk. They fact that they knew I’d be at the pigsty…”

  Medici held up a hand. “You’re still light on evidence, Albani.”

  “Your Grace, please. I know the Ribisi brothers are friends of yours, but a man is dead, and another man sits in in the Bargello, accused of a crime he didn’t commit. The Ribisi brothers threatened Giancarlo into making these absurd accusations of sodomy.”

  It was more than half a lie, and Teo fully expected to be caught out in it, but then Giancarlo finally found his voice. “It’s true,” he said. “He didn’t do it. I made it all up.”

  The regent raised both eyebrows. “What?”

  Giancarlo licked his lips. “Niccolò di Volpaia did none of things I accused him of,” he said. “I lied because I was being threatened, and because I was angry with him because he wouldn’t give me a job in his studio.”

  It was very quiet. So quiet that Teo could hear Giancarlo’s throat work as he swallowed. Finally, after a long, awful pause, Medici sighed. “Fine,” he said, and reached for paper and pen. “Free the pervert. It’s not as if he’s the only one in Florence.” He extended the signed note to Teo, then – as if reconsidering – drew it back. “You’re very sure of yourself, Albani,” he said. “For one so young.”

  He offered the note once more. Teo took it, heart in mouth. “I’ve had to learn a great deal in a short space of time, your Grace,” he said. “I promise you, if I seem sure of myself, I am not.”

  *

  The shadows were beginning to lengthen once more. The sun had passed its zenith and a chill settled on Nicci’s stomach as he tried to work out how long Teo had been gone. At what hour had he left for San Bendetto? And how long would he be there? How long would it take him to get back? An hour, two hours? It wasn’t a long ride, but every minute and second seemed a torment right now.

  Last night Nicci had dreamed of angels again. The stench of old straw and ordure had seeped into his dreams, a constant reminder of where he was, and it was if his mind was reaching frantically for something beautiful. Something of hope and light and wonder that he could cling to in this godawful place.

  It was similar to the dream he’d had before, of vast wings beating against warm air, bare feet dangling in space, only this time the feet were no longer dusty, as if they’d never needed to touch the ground. They were Teo’s feet, with their high insteps and straight toes, only they were as pale and perfect as that strap of untanned skin where his sandals used to sit. Milk white. Blue blood.

  Nicci had taken hold of those fine ankles, well-shaped calves, pulled the angel down into his lap, only to see that the angel had Teo’s face, Teo’s body, Teo’s cock, as hard and hot as it had been that morning in Volpaia. If they had only woken an
hour or so ahead of the messenger, Nicci felt sure that Teo would have not only broken his vows but smashed them to pieces and danced on the fragments.

  He heard a lock rattle, and footsteps coming down the corridor. It was the guard. He unlocked the cage door and flung it wide. “Right,” he said. “Out you come.”

  “Why?” said Nicci, and at once he thought of that choking gurgle, so swiftly silenced on the gallows. His stomach felt like it had turned to hot liquid, and above everything else he was afraid that he was about to die without getting the chance to say goodbye to Teo. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re free,” said the guard. “Come on. What’s got into you? Most people fly out of their cages, but you hang back like a nervous pigeon.”

  Nicci stepped out into the dark stone corridor. The guard led him out through an archway into the light of the courtyard. Teo was standing there waiting, the sun shining so brightly on him that his chestnut brown hair almost looked red. His forehead and cheeks were flushed with sunburn and his eyes deep vivid blue, and Nicci had yearned for him so long that he’d taken on the quality of a mirage, a thing too longed for to be entirely real. When Teo’s arms folded around him Nicci felt as though he’d shatter or weep.

  “Are you all right?” Teo asked, releasing him and holding him at arm’s length, as if to remind himself that they couldn’t simply fall into one another the way they wanted to. Not here.

  “I’m fine now. How on earth did you perform this miracle?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Teo. “And I have so much to tell you. I went to San Bendetto. I know what they did to Armando.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Teo lowered his voice as he led the way across the courtyard. “They cut off his balls.”

  “Oh my God. You were right. They did mistake him for you.” Once again, Nicci had an answer, and a dozen more questions. “But why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Teo. “Some stupid vendetta that happened before I was born. Before my father and probably my grandfather were born. It makes no sense, Nicci.”

  “Listen,” said Nicci. “There’s a thief, name of Beppe Tornato. I have a theory that he’s the one who stole del Campo’s dagger.”

  Teo gave him a puzzled look, which was understandable, given the circumstances.

  “I know,” said Nicci. “I know you don’t think it means anything, but I get these feelings sometimes. Call it intuition.”

  “All right. I owe you that. You believed my theory, after all.”

  “Yes, and it turned out to be true. Even if the motive makes no sense, the rest seems straightforward enough. They found out where you were, accidentally killed the wrong man and then sent his balls to your father.”

  “A message,” said Teo. “To tell him that I was the end of the line.”

  “And a taunt,” said Nicci. “Because there are balls on the crest of the Medici. I wonder if they knew Fiorina del Campo had said something to incriminate herself, or if that was just a coincidence?”

  They turned a corner. Giancarlo was sitting on a narrow stone bench against the wall. He leapt to his feet when he saw them. “I’m sorry,” he said, as Nicci approached, and he began to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

  Nicci squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right. I can’t hold it against you. You acted under duress, and these are ruthless people.”

  “Ruthless people who seem to have the ear of the regent, at that,” said Teo.

  “They’ll come for me,” said Giancarlo. “I’m as good as dead.”

  “No,” said Teo. “You can leave Florence.”

  “Leave? But this is my home.”

  “I know, but I don’t see any other choice right now, do you?” said Teo. “I have the money to make you disappear, if not permanently then at least until we get to the bottom of this and the Ribisi are forced to account for their crimes. Is there anywhere you can go?”

  Giancarlo thought for a moment. “Naples. I have a cousin in Naples.”

  “A long way,” said Nicci.

  “Faster by ship,” said Giancarlo. “If we ride to Pisa, I can get on a boat to Naples. Maybe even tonight.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Nicci. “And ride fast. I want to blow the stink of the Bargello out of my hair.”

  Dusk was falling by the time they reached the port of Pisa. As luck would have it there was a ship departing for Naples at first light.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” said Nicci, as they stood on the dock, Giancarlo’s purse heavy with Teo’s coin. Teo stood at a distance, watching.

  “You’re sorry? How do you think I feel? I put you in the Bargello.”

  Nicci sighed and squeezed Giancarlo’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Let’s be honest – men like us, we’re always going to be vulnerable to blackmail. Threats.”

  “Violence. Execution.”

  “Yes. All those charming things. Which is why we should stick together. Don’t let them divide us. Turn us against each other.”

  Giancarlo gave a small, brave smile, but his dark eyes glittered, wet. Nicci knew what he was giving up. As long as they were in Florence – no matter how remote – there was still a chance of catching Vasari’s attention and getting the opportunity to work on the duke’s new offices. What was in Naples, besides beastly heat and a mountain that belched smoke like an angry, sleeping dragon?

  “Will you be all right?” Nicci asked.

  “Fine,” said Giancarlo. “Given the choice between death or exile, I’ll always choose exile.”

  “It might not be permanent, Gianni.” Nicci glanced at Teo and beckoned with a tilt of his head. “We’re going to do everything we can to make them pay for this.”

  “Yes, we are,” said Teo, joining them. “Armando was a brother of mine. He died doing me a simple kindness, and I will see his killers brought to justice. You have my word on that.”

  Giancarlo lowered his head, half nod, half bow. “Thank you, Signor Albani. I realise I’ve caused you nothing but trouble…”

  “Teo. My name is Teo. And please, don’t worry about it. Just go. Get yourself to safety. There’s been more than enough death already.”

  They watched him board the ship. “Do you think he’ll be all right?” said Nicci.

  “I have no way of knowing. I just hope he’ll be safer there than here.” Teo sighed. The sky was turning to the colour of his eyes. “Well, there it is. That happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “I sent a man off with gold in his pocket because he caused scandal to someone close to me. Made him disappear.” He gave a bitter little laugh. “I suppose that makes me the official head of the house of Albani, doesn’t it? How my father would laugh if he could see me now. He always said I thought I was above it all. Better than him.”

  “You are,” said Nicci, as they turned away from the dock. “You sent him away to save his life, not your reputation.”

  “Maybe. It still leaves me feeling greasy, though.” Teo shook himself slightly. “It’s getting dark. We should find some lodging for the night.”

  “Together?”

  The word stopped Teo in his tracks. “I think it would be safer, don’t you?”

  “I wasn’t talking about safety, Teo.” They were standing in a narrow alley. The dark was settling in now as the sun sank into the sea, and someone had already hung a lantern in the door of a nearby tavern. The light flickered on the smooth surface of Teo’s cheek, and Nicci’s mind hurried ahead, to a place with a bed and four walls. He could have kissed him right here, in the dark and the quiet, but it wasn’t safe. Anyone could see, and if Nicci had learned anything from recent events it was the importance of being careful. Whatever was going to happen between them would have to happen behind closed doors. “If I asked you to come to me…” Nicci started to say, but Teo cut him off.

  “Yes,” Teo said. “My answer is yes.”

  15

  They were alone.

  At last.

  A room. A bed.

 
Nicci had gone downstairs to fetch water. Teo – stripped to his shirt – was already in bed, his stomach fluttering with apprehension above the eager, certain weight of his cock. On one hand he could barely believe what he wanted to happen, and on the other he knew he would never have a moment’s peace until it did.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d been wrong to let Nicci out of his sight again. What if, right now, Nicci was being arrested again? What if this never happened?

  The door opened, putting an end to his panic. Nicci set down the jug and locked the door. “Sorry,” he said, as though he knew Teo had been filling his own head with anxieties. “The fire went down and they had to take the bellows to it. I had to wait for hot water.”

  He tipped out the jug of steaming water into the bowl and started to undress, turning to face the bed as he wriggled out of his doublet. “You look cosy in there. Is it comfortable?”

  “Very. You’ll find it much better than the Bargello.”

  Nicci laughed and lowered his trousers. “That I’d don’t doubt,” he said, with a roguish little flash of his dark eyes. “The company’s a lot nicer, for a start.”

  Teo felt his heart race faster as Nicci’s codpiece and hose joined the pile of clothes on the chair. He caught himself staring and his cheeks burned, but Nicci just smiled and pulled his shirt up over his head, baring everything. Long legs, furred belly, red nipples. And this time he was hard, as stiff as if Teo’s gaze had been a lover’s caress. His prick was gently curved, the red head shaped like an inverted heart. The hair between his legs was as black as night, his slender thighs white beneath the dusting of dark hair.

  “Are you going to watch me?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

  “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Nicci blushed like a bride as he dipped the sponge into the water. Teo watched, mesmerised, as he lathered up the soap and began to wash himself, passing the sponge beneath his arms and around the back of his neck. So beautiful, so graceful and so soon to be his, and yet still not soon enough.

  “Let me…” Teo said, getting out of bed, unable to watch any longer. He took the sponge from Nicci’s hand and the water dripped down onto his shirt, plastering the wet cloth to the indecent jut of his cock.