Читать книгу The Bronze Crown - Stefano Vignaroli, Stefano Vignaroli - Страница 8

Get the pliers and pincers ready,

then we’ll light the fire.

(Tomás de Torquemada)

The guards, recognizing Lucia and aware of her authority, did not find the courage to block her way. The Countess, mad in her face, entered the Midday Tower like a fury. She found herself in a deserted hallway. Sometimes female cries, suffocated and muffled by the thick walls, reached her ears. Surely they were already torturing Mira. Not knowing where the torture room was, and unable to understand where the girl’s screams came from, he opened the first door he found. Judge Uberti was sitting behind a desk, absorbed in examining paperwork. Above the table stood a book with an elegant cover and the title written in block letters “Malleus Maleficarum”.

«Noble Dagoberto Uberti! What does all this mean? You promised to judge my handmaiden, and to be merciful to her. Why, then, hand her over to the inquisitors? You heard my testimony some time ago. Mira defended herself. My uncle was attacking her. He may have killed her. She only wounded him, and not in a serious way. The fact that he fell from the balcony was an accident, a fatality, beyond the girl’s control. I have told you again and again: Mira deserves punishment, but not death!»

Judge Uberti, compared to some years ago, at the time of the trial against Andrea Franciolini, had visibly aged. Deep wrinkles furrowed his face, his back had bent and, to walk, he had to help himself with a walnut wood stick. A serious form of arthrosis, testified by the deformity of the joints of his hands, afflicted him. His eyesight had also dropped considerably and he had to help himself to read with a glass lens mounted on a metal support. At that time there were few, in fact, those who owned glasses, which had to come from Venice and were very expensive. He lifted his head from the cards and answered Lucia in a calm, almost resigned voice.

«You see, my Lady, I have studied the case well, and it seems to me that there are many, too many inconsistencies. You are the only witness, so I should trust what you tell me. Unfortunately, the same facts, told by you and told by Mira, are in stark contrast. You claim your uncle caught your handmaiden stealing from his study. But apart from the books, there was little there to steal. And notoriously, Mira can’t even read. Besides, I am well aware that your uncle kept money and valuables in other rooms. I believe instead that Mira entered the Cardinal’s study on purpose, hoping that, by offering him her body, she would be well rewarded.»

«What are you insinuating, Judge?»

«I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just trying to reconstruct how things went, and I think I’ve got the picture straight. You see, we had your uncle’s body examined by experts before we recomposed it for burial. Apart from the fact that he wasn’t wearing stockings, the Cardinal had the member completely covered in an oily substance, an ointment. According to experts, it was a substance based on plant essences, which only witches know how to prepare. But let us come to your uncle’s blood. You say Mira wounded him lightly with a knife, or rather, a letter opener. But there was an abundance of blood, scattered all over the study, and then around the corpse, so much so that it seems that the Cardinal, rather than the fall, bled to death. Only one wound, but it reached an important blood vessel. And what’s strange is that Mira should have been much dirtier in blood than we found. Her clothes were dirty, but if she struck so precisely, she must have had blood on her hands and arms. But she hadn’t! And the clothes? They weren’t exactly the clothes of a handmaiden, they were clothes of more important features.»

«And what did you deduce from all this?» asked Lucia, with a voice that almost began to tremble, for fear that Uberti was about to tell the story that blamed her for the death of her uncle.

«You see», and the Judge put his hand over the Malleus Maleficarum. «This book, provided to me by Father Ignazio Amici, enlightened me. Written by two German inquisitors, Jacob Sprenger and Heinrich Insitor Kramer, a few decades ago, it shows how to recognize witches, regardless of their powers. They can all be recognized by an indelible mark they wear on their skin, a mole, a spot, a birthmark or a scar, often hidden by armpit hair, pubic hair, or perhaps hair. This is why the Inquisitors, as a first step, have the witch denuded and have all her hair shaved in order to highlight this mark. But Mira didn’t even need to do that. She has an obvious mole on her upper lip, right under her nose, above which hair even grows. Father Ignazio affirms that it’s an unequivocal sign, and I agree with him, after reading this text.»

«What does all this have to do with my uncle’s death?»

«It has more to do with it than you, even as a witness, can imagine. The fact that Mira is a witch is confirmed not only by the mole, but also by the clothes she was wearing that day. The usual experts we have consulted have confirmed that those are clothes worn by the most powerful witches, clothes handed down from generation to generation, from mother to daughter. And so we come to the reconstruction of the facts, as it is now clear that they have actually happened. Mira, strengthened by her powers, enters the Cardinal’s studio with the clear intention of seducing him and bewitching him. The aim is to obtain money, a lot of money, in exchange for the amorous performance. The Cardinal falls there, lets himself be seduced, takes off his stockings and prepares to lie with your handmaid. But she wants to increase even more the satisfaction of her victim’s senses, and uses the ointment, to induce him to greater pleasure, and consequently to a greater gift of money. Only that ointment, in the right doses, increases the pleasure of the body, but in excessive doses causes hallucinations and visions. No, Mira doesn’t want to kill the Cardinal, that’s the least of her intentions: you don’t kill the hen that produces the golden eggs. But the situation has got out of hand. Who held the knife first? Perhaps the Cardinal in prey to obnubilation, perhaps to pretend to threaten the girl in a crescendo of erotic game. And he also uses it to cut off her clothes in order to strip her naked. And then the witch, feeling too much at risk, appeals to her powers. She doesn’t touch the knife, but guides it with the magical power of her dark powers. Only with the power of her thought does she throw it against the Baldeschi’s shoulder, in a very specific place. One wound, but fatal.»

«And then what?»

«And then, the final touch. She opens the window and plunges the Cardinal off the balcony, even leading him to believe he could fly. And then, how do you judge this woman? What punishment does she deserve? It was not, as you say, mere defence. Though at first it was not her will, she killed, and did so with good reason. What’s more, through the use of powers not common to all, but specific to women we call witches. WITCHES! Death is the well-deserved end for a killer like her. Beheading. But if she is a witch, we all know that the end she deserves is another.»

«No!» exclaimed Lucia, who felt her heart beat fast in her chest at the thought of seeing Mira dying beyond a wall of flame.

At that very moment, a louder cry from the torture chamber reached her ears.

«That’s enough, Judge! Take me immediately to the room where they are torturing the poor woman. This horror must end at once!»

«I don’t recommend it, it’s not a pretty sight to witness. Father Ignazio and his torturers will not be intimidated by the words of a maiden, no matter how noble...»

«That’s an order. Take me to the torture chamber!»

The Judge, sensing that the young girl knew what she was doing and that she could avail herself of the powers that were rightfully her’s, to be the descendant of Cardinal Baldeschi, as well as the betrothed of the one who should have been officially designated Captain of the People, lowered her head and obeyed Lucia. He led the young woman down the stairs and semi-obscure corridors, reaching a mighty door, in front of which two energetic men armed with spears barred the way to anyone. Mira’s cries were now very close by. When the judge beckoned, the two thugs stood to the side and opened the door. Lucia felt as if she had gone to hell. Her handmaiden Mira had been tied up on a table, completely naked, with her arms and legs spread apart to form the design of a St. Andrea’s cross. Her pubic and armpit hairs had been shaved and now, while one of the torturers was pulling the chains tied to the girl’s wrists and ankles, stretching the joints of her legs and arms almost to the point of dislocating them, another, with large scissors, was cutting her hair, throwing it into a burning brazier. In the same brazier, which gave off a pestilential smoke, several torture devices had been put in order to make them red-hot. Lucia, although she was crying both because of the smoke and the spectacle she had suddenly found herself witnessing, noticed Father Ignazio Amici taking a large pincer from the brazier and bringing the incandescent branches of the latter closer to one of Mira’s breasts. If she hadn’t stopped him in time, he would have grabbed her nipple with pliers, going so far as to pull it off.

«Pervert of a priest you are. Stop it. What are you doing?» And she grabbed his arm, holding the heavy pliers.

The Dominican turned and, with a sadistic smile on his face, recognized the young Lucia Baldeschi.

«Oh, my lady. Have you come to witness your handmaiden’s confession? Welcome! We’re almost there, not much more and she’ll admit all her faults. After all, it is you who accused her, and it is right that you should be present when she condemns herself.»

Since the Dominican had stopped, the torturer who had cut the accused woman’s hair had taken a very sharp razor in his hand, with the intention of shaving the head of the unfortunate.

«Stop, stop everything. Untie her, dress her and take her back to her cell. I cannot tolerate a woman being treated in this way.»

Lucia’s tone was authoritarian and everyone stopped. Even Mira stopped shouting. But Father Ignazio looked at her with an air of defiance.

«I’m in charge here. Let me finish my work. We need to find all the marks Mira has on her body that prove she’s a witch. And then we must hear her full confession from her lips. On whose authority do you, Countess, wish to meddle in matters concerning the Church and the Holy Inquisition?»

«With the authority that is rightfully mine, and which at this very moment I claim!», cried Lucia, with a strength of spirit that she did not even suspect she possessed. «From this moment I am your People’s Captain, and as such I have the right to decide the fate of this woman. You, jailers, do immediately what I have just ordered you to do: untie Mira, give her some clothes and take her back to her cell. You, instead, Father Ignazio Amici, follow me in Judge Uberti’s study. I must speak to you in private.»

Lucia, going down the stairs to the room where she had been in conversation with Judge Uberti, to try to calm herself, repeated to herself, in her mind, the teachings received from her grandmother and, in more recent times, from Bernardino.

Know yourself first, understand the Art so far mysterious. Be willing to learn, with much wisdom use knowledge. Your behaviour is balanced, and your speech is well ordered. And also keep your thoughts in good order...

And yes, she had to weigh her words well and keep her thoughts in order, so as not to attack the Dominican in a bad way and go from the side of reason to that of wrong. Before entering the room she took two deep breaths, then asked the Judge to leave her alone with Father Ignazio. Uberti obeyed, though hesitant, and went out, closing the door behind him.

Lucia stuck her hazel eyes into the priest’s light blue, almost watery ones, to show him that she was not at all afraid of him.

«Minister of God, do you presume to call yourself? Is this how you witness the message of Our Lord? Jesus came down to earth to save sinners. Or am I wrong? And you, instead of preaching love, what do you do? You enjoy throwing mud at poor people, or worse, watching them die in atrocious suffering. Spend your Sunday homilies accusing alleged witches of spreading the disease that’s decimating our people with their practices. Spend your arrogance in denying religious comfort to the dying plague victims. I can also pass over the fact that you have denied a dignified burial to Christians on the pretext of avoiding the spread of the plague. But to torture a defenceless young girl like this is too much. Shame on you, and make amends!»

«This is what Holy Mother Church wants. We must fight heresies and the devil, in whatever form they manifest themselves» Father Ignazio replied, without looking away, to make Lucia understand that he was accepting the challenge. «I act to pursue a precise intent, to enforce the Rule and the Laws! Since at present, in this city, no one else takes the trouble to do so...»

«The only purpose you seek, Father Ignazio, do you know what it is? That of satisfying your lust. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you were about to do to me. Even though you’d ravaged me, administering your damn drugs, I was perfectly conscious. If my uncle hadn’t come into my bedroom that day, you wouldn’t have hesitated to abuse my body!»

The Dominican, caught in the act, blushed his face and looked down. Then he tried to defend himself.

«It is not so, my lady. Your memories are clouded. I was only trying to perform an exorcism, which finally succeeded. And it is because of my intervention that you are here and have not been burned at the stake, because I exorcised the devil you were staying with!»

«Bullshit! All lies! You are a fake, a liar, and an opportunist. You disgust me. Do you know what I’m thinking of you? I’m thinking you’re a pervert. And that you’re impotent! Yes, a helpless man, who gets excited just by seeing suffering. That’s why you enjoy watching torture, because only by watching certain scenes does your member stand up!»

«What do you say, Virgin Mary? You’re using language that doesn’t suit a noble bridesmaid like you! I assure you it is not so. My only aim is to enforce the laws, both divine and human. And I am not powerless, I follow only the rule of my order, which imposes chastity on me.»

Lucia had understood, from the trembling voice of her interlocutor, that she was getting in advantage, and so she decided to launch the final lunge. She untied the ribbon that tied her blouse around her neck and, with a sudden and sudden gesture, opened it at the front, exposing her breasts.

«And so, you are not impotent. So, you wanted my body! Take it now, that I offer it to you of my own free will. And prove yourself a man who can love a maiden sweetly.»

Father Ignazio, aware of the trap the countess was luring him into, withdrew. In there, it was just the two of them. He knew well that the young woman would have no scruples about accusing him of having tried to abuse her, even with violence. And it would be his word against hers.

«Cover yourself, please! It is not right of you to try to tempt me like this. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it», he said with a loud voice and his head down.

«I knew you were impotent», continued Lucia, taking a lighted candle from the candelabra above the desk and handing it to her. «Why don’t you try pouring hot wax on my breasts? Maybe then you’ll start to get excited, and then you’ll finally want to own me. But no, I see you’re still backing away from me. As well as being powerless, you’re also a coward!»

«Enough, please! I repeat: tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it!»

The priest saw with relief Lucia put the candle away and put her robe back on, and then continued with her speech. She felt the sweat raging down his brow and down his back.

«Do you want to know the truth? You're a coward anyway, and you won’t have the courage to tell anyone. Mira is not responsible for my uncle’s death. I am. It was I who wounded him and caused him to fall from the balcony. And now that you’ve heard, I’ll tell you what I want you to do. You will release Mira from the charges of witchcraft. You will say the accusations were unfounded and return my handmaiden to Judge Uberti. After that, start packing your bags. I want you as far away from Jesi as soon as possible. Tomorrow I will send a messenger to the Holy Father, to Adrian VI, advising your transfer to Haute Savoie. Up there heresies are raging and an inquisitor like you will know what to do to fight them. There is a need for you, in those borderlands, to bring back to the fold the lost sheep!»

«The new Holy Father?» replied Father Ignazio, now visibly pale, feeling all his certainties fading.

«Have you been so busy serving your Holy Mother Church that you did not even know that the papal throne was occupied by Bishop Adriano Florensz of Utrecht, more than six months ago? After the death of Leo X, the Council took a long time to elect the new pontiff. But in the end, it chose, and not the Bishop of Florence, Giulio De’ Medici, as you might have expected.»

«And so, the Church is now ruled by a man close to the Reformers? And our papal legate? When will he arrive at the headquarters?» Father Ignazio was completely shaken by the news.

«How misinformed you are, my dear! Cardinal Cesarini arrived from Rome in the middle of last March, but it seems that Jesi is not a see that has met his graces. He left one of his vicars and soon returned to Orvieto. Considering his perennial absence, the civil authorities have requested his replacement. But we will await word from Rome, which will not be long in coming. Listen to me, pack your bags, before all the evil you have done turns against you. You are still under the protection of that garment you wear, but I believe that those clothes will soon be tightened on you.»

Father Ignazio, having nothing more to reply, went head down towards the door, walked out passing by Judge Uberti without even giving him a glance, and went away through the meanders of the tower. Certainly, in those months he had been so concentrated in demonstrating that Mira was a witch, that he had completely lost contact with reality!

Still dazed by the conversation that had just ended and immersed in her thoughts, Lucia had not even noticed that the Judge had returned to the room, patiently waiting for him to speak. She heard the sentence coming out of her own lips as if it were someone else speaking.

«The charges of witchcraft against Mira have been dropped. It is for you to judge her. Try to be merciful!

«Her guilt in being responsible for the Cardinal’s death is now widely proven. And, for a murderer, the sentence is death. There is little to discuss. The only clemency I can reserve her is a quick execution without an audience to attend. Mira will be beheaded at dawn tomorrow morning. I will not go public with it. It will be between her and the executioner.»

«The only thing I ask is that she don’t suffer», replied Lucia, shrugging her shoulders.

«One sharp blow, well settled, and the young woman’s head will roll on the floor of Piazza della Morte. Mira won’t even have time to realize that her head is no longer attached to her neck.»

Lucia felt the tears that were about to burst from her eyes, but she pushed them back, sensing their salty taste in her throat. Her grim thoughts were interrupted by an unusual clamour, which reached the windows from outside, from the Piazza del Palio and the surrounding streets. A crowd of people, coming from the countryside, armed with pitchforks, knives and other rudimentary tools, was entering the city from Porta Valle and headed threateningly towards the upper part of the city.

«At the Palace. Let’s get to the Bishop’s office!»

«Death to Cardinal Cesarini’s vicar!»

«Death to the thief, death to the usurper!»

Lucia, hearing those sentences, understood what was about to happen, and realized that the situation was really serious. She had to do something to stop those people and to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.

A popular uprising right now would mean the end for this city. I must prevent these villains from turning the centre into a massacre. The population has already been decimated by the plague, all we need now is the infighting between citizens to destroy Jesi.