Читать книгу In The Lion's Sign - Stefano Vignaroli, Stefano Vignaroli - Страница 7

 CHAPTER 2

The fortress of the princes of Carpegna was a safe refuge, thanks to the inaccessibility of the place, perched as it was on a rocky spur, overlooking a village of a few houses on Mount Carpegnia. A couple of months ago in the memorable 27th March 1523, the day when Andrea had been seriously injured during a chivalric tournament by the vile Masio from Cingoli. It was obvious Maso was jealous of his position and hoped for his death, or at least for a serious disability, to get himself in the good graces of the Duke Della Rovere. And he had tried every way he could, but it had gone wrong. Andrea had only learned later that on the same day, on 27 March, Pope Adrian VI had signed the bull that legalized the position of Francesco Maria Della Rovere, confirming in his favour all the individual concessions made by the previous popes and annulling the sentence of Leo X, who assigned the territories of Urbino and Montefeltro to the Medici. The Duke had been reinstated in his position, and his territories had been returned to him, for the annual census of 1340 florins for the Duchy of Urbino, 750 for the city of Pesaro and 100 for Senigallia. Only San Leo and Maiolo, where between January and February 1523 the troops of Giovanni De’ Medici, better known as Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, remained under the rule of the Medici, acting as a buffer between the Feltre and Medici lands.

Andrea had recovered in a very slow way, either because of the serious loss of blood suffered, and because he had been offended again an arm already injured during the sack of Jesi. He had hoped, opening his eyes again after days of agony, to find his beloved Lucia next to him, as happened when he had been injured years before. Instead, the only presence that he felt was a Franciscan friar, who was busy with decoctions and implants, of which Andrea was sure that he ignored the healing properties. Perhaps he had been instructed in this way by the Countess Baldeschi who, not being able to remain beside him, had entrusted his remedies to the friar. In fact, the unmistakable image of Lucia’s eyes, glimpsed through the visor of a concealed visor before losing consciousness, remained printed in his mind. But was he sure? Or was it only his imagination making him to believe it? Yes, the imagination of a person wearing the fear of death, which made him misrepresent reality in favour of concepts benevolent to him. Either way, no matter what happened, he was better off now. His shoulder continued to give him excruciating pain, but it was time to fully recover and the first thing to think about was revenge against Masio. Revenge is a dish best savoured cold. And he had had plenty of time to think about what to do.

He was regaining his strength little by little, and the high plateaus of Mount Carpegna were ideal for quiet and restful rides. There was no danger of ambushes, as the horizon completely uncovered did not allow anyone to sneak in. Therefore, in order to restore the spirit and muscles, Andrea used to saddle a mild mount early in the morning and go out into the pure, crisp air that only the mountain could offer. Every day he felt stronger and more confident, even if his shoulder was still sore. But he clenched his teeth, tried to resist as if nothing had happened, and soon the pains disappeared like snow in the sun. He wished to be healthy again, to reach his beloved and his city as soon as possible, to fulfil his promise of marriage, but also to take over the government of his city. And by virtue of what had been granted him by the Duke Della Rovere, he could demand all this in his own right. He was no longer the simple son of a merchant, however much his captain was appointed by the people of Jesi. Now he was noble, he was a Marquis, with a lot of lands, even if rough mountain lands, and moreover he was in the graces of the Duke of Urbino. Of course, he owed obedience to the latter, but he felt he could return to Jesi in full autonomy. Despite being immersed in these thoughts, he could not help but notice in the distance the cloud of dust raised by a handful of men on horseback coming up along the dirt road leading to the fortress.

He heard in the distance the calls of the sentries from the stands. Although the voices did not seem alarmed, there was a cannon shot warning of the arrival of a potential enemy. Then, the ringing of the bells made Andrea understand that there was no danger, that those men approaching were not in combat gear. When the group began to stand out better, he noticed a horseman with the proudest bearing, on a steed that surpassed all the other railroads in height, ridden by light armour. The colours were that of the Medici.

Giovanni De’ Medici, Andrea said to himself, the famous and notorious Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, or better Ludovico di Giovanni De’ Medici, officially repudiated by his family as the illegitimate son of Giovanni il Popolano, but still strongly tied to it. Why would he have gone so far? Would he have known of my presence? Has he come to challenge me? Will he want to take back the territories of the upper Montefeltro on behalf of his family?

The unexpected arrival worried Andrea a little, also because in a possible clash with the Medici thugs he would have had only a few men in the service of the Counts of Carpegna. And they were little compared to the fame that accompanied the soldiers of fortune of Captain Giovanni dalle Bande Nere. He turned towards the fortress, thinking it was better to confer with the Medici within safe walls and flanked by men he trusted, when he saw that the Counts Carpegna, the brothers Piero and Bono, had gone out of great career and were riding towards him to bring him help. Sure of being protected, he turned towards potential enemies, who had by then come a short distance away from him. Andrea put his hand to the hilt of the sword, secured to the saddle of his mount, clutching it, ready to unseat it at any hint of hostility from the new arrivals. The man famous for his Black Bands raised one arm, signalling his retinue to stop, then with a leap he got off his horse and approached on foot, keeping his arms wide and raised. The gesture was evident and Andrea relaxed, taking his hand off the weapon and getting off the horse in turn. When he was a few steps away from him, the man expressed himself in a deep reverence. Andrea watched him, squeezed him from head to toe, trying to understand why this apparently so mild person had been associated with the reputation of a ruthless warrior. He was a young man, he was about twenty-five years old, his face adorned with a manicured beard, not too long. The hair, dark and cut short, was evident because the captain was not wearing any kind of concealment, and was the outline of a round face with a serene air. The man was not even tall, seen from the ground. He was probably trying to ride tall, mighty animals to overpower those around him. He wore a scorched earth coloured doublet, with the five red balls and the three-pointed lily embroidered on the front, to symbolize loyalty to his family of origin.

«It’s an honour for me to see you here, sir», Andrea said, in turn sketching a bow as a greeting, anxious to know the reason for the unexpected visit. «Now then, may I know what prompted you to move from the stronghold of San Leo, your undisputed bulwark, to the Mount Carpegna, which represents for you a treacherous ground full of perils?»

Giovanni mocked himself and widened his mouth in a smile, then Andrea saw him get closer to him, until he put his hand on his shoulder, almost in a gesture of friendship. From him? From someone he considered an enemy? Did he have to expect to fall into some kind of trap? There was little to trust. Andrea stiffened and the other one lowered his arm, then he started talking.

«I bring good news for you, maybe a little less for me» the Medici said. «The Duke of Urbino has agreed with the new Pope, and...»

«You’re telling me things I already know. The deal with Adrian VI happened two months ago!»

A smile was printed on the lips of the interlocutor again.

«Don’t interrupt me, let me finish. I’m not talking about the Pope who, I think for a little while longer, sits on the papal throne. I speak of the Bishop of Florence, of Julius De’ Medici, who will soon take his rightful place. There are rumours that Adriano Florensz is in very poor health and has a short life. If the good Lord does not call him back to his side, he will have to renounce the office soon. And the papacy will return again to the house of Medici.»

«And you are here to make me believe that my lord, the Duke Della Rovere, who has always been a bitter enemy of the house to which you belong, has already made a secret agreement with the Bishop of Florence, even before having the certainty that he will be elected to the papal throne! Do you think me stupid?»

«Trust me! To show my good faith, I have brought you a gift, which I’m sure will please you.»

With a snap of his fingers, Giovanni beckoned to approach one of the remaining thugs... The latter jumped to the ground and went to lay a large wicker basket next to his lord. Then he bowed in reverence and retraced his steps. The tension could be cut with the knife. Everyone remained silent, even the Counts of Carpegna had stopped at a respectful distance and were waiting for how the events would unfold. The only noise that could be heard was the withering of the banners, which were stretched out under the wind. Giovanni opened the basket and grabbed the macabre contents, showing it to Andrea. A head cut off cleanly from his neck, still dripping blood, his hair entangled between the fingers of the man whose outstretched arm was waving it proudly under his nose. Andrea barely held back a gagging gag, but he recognized to whom that sort of trophy had belonged in life.

«Your worst enemy, Messer Franciolini! Masio da Cingoli. As you can see, I’ve taken the trouble to make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore. You should be grateful!»

«To tell you the truth, I had other intentions about him. I was going to describe the facts to the Duke Della Rovere, in a letter whose contents I already had in mind, calling for a fair trial for this little good. The last of my wishes was to kill him without the intervention of justice. If I had done so, I would have put myself in his shoes. Let it never be said that the Marquis Franciolini is a coward!»

«You could have always challenged him to a duel, but since someone else thought of him, you had saved your honour and you can certainly consider yourself satisfied», and so saying Giovanni dalle Bande Nere threw Masio’s head with contempt on the ground, near Andrea’s feet, resuming his speech immediately, before the latter had a chance to reply. «But there is more, and this is the good news for you. My troops and I are leaving San Leo. Given the terms of the alliance between the Medici and Duke Della Rovere, there is nothing more to fear in these parts. In the coming days, the communities of San Leo and Maiolo will fall under your jurisdiction. Our presence is instead claimed in Brescia. It seems that the Lansquenets have moved from Bolzano and press on the gates of this city. The Gonzaga on the one hand and the Visconti-Sforza on the other, feel themselves in danger, being the bulk of the Venetian forces at the moment engaged in Dalmatia to repel the attacks of the Ottomans. Della Rovere, alone, was unable to stand up to those gangs of bad soldiers, and no one wanted the army of Charles V of Hapsburg to come behind them and threaten cities like Milan, Florence or, worse, Rome. My soldiers of fortune are needed, and our common friend, Francesco Maria, has understood this well!»

If I were not in these conditions, surely the Duke would have summoned me and my men to fight at his side, rather than this bloodthirsty angel-faced man, Andrea said to himself, beware of expressing this thought. But, at the end of the day, perhaps it is better now. Away the Medici, these territories are quiet at the moment and I will be able, as soon as possible, to return to Jesi and marry the Countess Lucia.

He took one last look at Masio’s head, took pity on it, picked it up and put it back inside the basket, closing it with the lid, then turned to Giovanni.

«I am happy for you, Sir Ludovico», and he remarked the voice on this name, aware of how unwelcome it was for the person in front of him to be so called. «I thank you for everything and I wish you good luck.»

Having said this, he turned around, jumped on the horse, reached Piero and Bono, who had remained silent spectators until that moment, and started again at their side towards the fortress, spurring the horse at a fast pace.

«A boaster, there’s nothing to say!», Piero from Carpegna said.

«Yeah!» Bono replied.

«Forget it», Andrea intervened. «He won’t bother us anymore, and that’s what’s important. Rather, retrieve the basket with Masio’s head. I want him to be given a decent burial. I really can’t stand that someone took the trouble to do justice for me, and I don’t want it to be said that I accepted with pleasure the summary execution of that coward. Coward when he was alive and coward remains. But I am no equal to him!»

«And it’s true!», Piero replied again. «You have a noble and generous soul, and we all appreciate it. We’ll provide Masio’s mortal remains are settled. In fact, we’ll also send someone to look for the rest of the body, after Giovanni dalle Bande Nere has left San Leo.»