The Bronze Crown

«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.

CHAPTER 4

The castle of Massignano was welcoming and safe, but Andrea had really tired of training against The Mancino and his thugs. Not that he minded the company of these rude men. Often in the evening he drank wine and played dice with them and more than once he fell asleep on the naked floor, on the other thugs. Of course, The Mancino, even though he had long lost the use of his right arm, knew how to duel well, and more than once he had made the sword fly out of his hands. The more time went by, the more the two became friends, but Andrea was a man of action, and a nobleman, and often wondered how long he had had to endure that semi-captivity, to please the Duke of Montacuto, as a demonstration of his gratitude for having saved him from the gallows. From one day to the next, Andrea waited for the Duke to summon him and finally make him leave for Montefeltro, where he would put his qualities as a leader in the hands of a powerful Lord. And yes, he just couldn’t bear to keep on spending his time in that absurd way. It was as if the Duke was purposely keeping him in that stalled condition, as if he enjoyed keeping him idle for as long as possible.

«If the Duke hasn’t arranged your transfer yet, you can see that there’s some obstacle, material or political. My master is a shrewd man, though he appears to be a rougher person than we who serve him. But what he has in addition, compared to us, is the ability to make his mind think», and The Mancino touched his temple with his index finger, to underline this concept of his. «You’ll see, in due time everything will be organized, nothing will be left to chance.»

«Gesualdo, I can make my head work well, and all I understand is that I’ve been here in this castle for almost four years and my limbs are getting lazy. If I had to be face to face with an enemy, I don’t know how it would end... Maybe not good for me!»

The Mancino, who had understood the antiphon, so as not to plunge young Franciolini into melancholy, jumped up, grabbed his heavy sword with his left hand and invited his friend to the fight.

«Come on, then, let’s see how rusty you are. In my opinion, what you miss most in here is a woman. It’s useless to keep thinking about your Lucia, who knows if you’ll ever see her again! Leave it to me and tonight you’ll have company. A man needs to let off steam not only the muscles in his arms and legs. I know a couple of maids who, in need, know what to do to satisfy a muscle that has been hibernating for too long! Just give them a couple of silver coins at the end, and it’s done», and he burst into a fat laugh.

Andrea, struck in the heart, took up the sword and violently crossed it with his left-handed one.

«You bastard, what do you take me for? For one who goes to whores? I am faithful to my beloved, I swore allegiance to her that I was near death. She healed my wounds and I should reward her with a betrayal?»

Gesualdo leaned back, holding himself firmly on his legs, and made the young man’s sword crash to the ground with thunder.

«Eh, love plays tricks on you! Yes, you’re very distracted today, you fight very badly, my friend. You’re lucky to have me in front of you and not an enemy, or you’d be dead already.»

Andrea raised his sword again and struck a new blow against The Mancino’s sword, which made it swirl, causing his opponent’s unbalance and fall to the ground. In an instant, the edge of the blade resting threateningly on the young man’s neck. The latter, with an agile leap backwards, got rid of the grip and with a kick made the sword fly away from the The Mancino’s hand. Then he regained possession of his own and went on the attack again. This time it was Gesualdo in a position of inferiority. The thugs who watched were not new to the skirmishes between the two and bet who on one who on the other. In short, the crowd became uncontrollable: the two continued to fight, railing against each other, sometimes even shouting, while the bystanders continued to bet higher and higher sums and incited the fight. Until, all of a sudden, everyone was silent. Andrea and Gesualdo realized that something was wrong and stopped fighting. They raised their heads and came face to face with Duke Berengario of Montacuto.

«Stop playing games, you two, and go make yourselves presentable. Tonight you’ll have the honour of dining at my table», he said in an authoritative voice. Then he turned around in his heels and disappeared down the corridor, in the direction he had come from.

Rarely, during those long years, had Andrea entered the wing of the castle where the Lord, the Duke of Montacuto, resided. They were much richer rooms, both in furniture and decorations, than the ones he was used to frequent, in the part of the Fortress where soldiers, armigers and servants stayed, and where he had hardly conquered a room with a straw mattress, thanks to Gesualdo’s intercession with the Duke’s lieutenant.

The times that Andrea found himself in the Duke’s presence were then counted on the fingers of his hands. It was good that the Duke was often far from the Castle, as he spent a lot of time in Ancona, both to keep the administrative affairs of the city under control, now that he had ousted the Council of Elders, and to follow closely the construction of the fortified citadel, a new bulwark to defend the port. The fact is that, since the Duke had saved him from the gallows with a precise purpose, that of sending him to the service of the Malatesta of Rimini, he had expected to have to leave that place of idleness much earlier. And instead, the Duke seemed to take pleasure in not receiving him, when for one reason, when for another, and to keep him among those barbarians, who had nothing to do with him, with his nobility, with his lineage, with his culture. He had not found even a book to read so that he could spend his time in a dignified manner, and his only hobby was to train himself to fight, which had really bored him. His only comfort was the friendship of Gesualdo who, despite his humble origins, he considered a faithful and wise companion in dispensing advice. The fact, now, of walking beside him, comforted him and instilled in his soul the courage he needed to face the eventual conversation with the old Duke of Montacuto.

«Here we are at last. The time has certainly come to leave for the Montefeltro territories, to fight for real, to have brave men at my orders», Andrea told his friend, walking down a long corridor, where the sounds of footsteps were muffled by carpets placed above the floor, and the noises and voices were not allowed to rumble, thanks to a series of tapestries that covered the walls. «I will do as I am commanded, but on one point, on one point only, I will be intransigent with the Duke. You, Gesualdo, will have to accompany me. You will be my guide and my right arm. I want no one else beside me on the journey from here to Rimini.»

«My young friend, you are strong and robust, while I am an old invalid. I don’t think our Lord will agree to your request. Even if he hasn’t summoned me for some time now and hasn’t entrusted me with any more missions after the one we both know, just knowing me away from here could be cause for concern for the Duke. Listen to me. Be quiet and make no foolish demands!»

«Shut up, you! You may be old and crippled, but you fight much better and you’re much smarter than a young warrior. And then...»

The words faded into his mouth, because they had reached the end of the corridor. The door wide open in front of them showed the dining room, where a long table was laid with all God’s blessings. Two reverent servants held open the heavy red velvet curtains that served as a frame at the doorway. As they passed by, the servants bowed deeply, then closed the curtains once the guests had crossed the threshold. Andrea and Gesualdo looked with wonder at the roasts of peacocks, pheasants and guinea fowl, roast potatoes and boiled vegetables. All the dishes were adorned with decorations, in a blaze of colours rare to see. Not to mention the smells, which reached Andrea’s nostrils to remind him of the perfumes that only in his father’s house he had appreciated at the time, and which he had almost completely forgotten. The wine in the pitchers was red, the typical dark colour of Mount Conero’s wine. Andrea felt a slight elbow, a prelude to the advice whispered by Mancino.

«Go easy on the wine. For someone like you, used to Verdicchio and Malvasìa, the Rosso Conero can be dangerous. It goes straight to the head!»

«The good moment may not last long, so we must act now in support of our friend Sigismondo Malatesta», Berengario began to say to his guests as he bit into a chicken leg, holding it by the bone, while the grease from his hand slipped down his forearm. «Now that Leon X is dead, Urbino and Montefeltro must be taken away from the Medici and the Holy See! Soon all the territories of the region of the Marche, including the Marca Anconitana, will have to be restored to the right balance. Subjected, yes, to the state of the Church, but still with independent civil governments. Unfortunately, Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere seems to have retired himself in Senigallia, renouncing to regain the Duchy of Urbino, taken from him by Cesare Borgia and then passed to the nephew of Pope Leo X. Moreover, the territories of Jesi are in total abandonment. After the death of Cardinal Baldeschi, a papal legate was sent, who seems not so much to govern the city as to finish reducing it to exhaustion, to misery, taking advantage of the vacation of a civil government.»

At these last words, Andrea’s heart leapt. The civil government of the city of Jesi was his by right. If the Duke of Montacuto wanted to restore the political balance, it would have been enough to send him back to his city, and he would have taken care of it and put this notorious papal legate back in the ranks. What was the point of sending him to fight for the Lord of Rimini? But perhaps the Montacuto’s intentions were quite different. Perhaps it would have served him well to maintain the situation of disorder in neighbouring Jesi, now that he had taken out the Council of Elders and had taken over the government of the City and the Marca Anconitana. Perhaps, at the last moment, he would have turned his back on everyone and sold Ancona to the Pope for a few tens of thousands of gold florins. Or perhaps he would have allied himself secretly with the Duke Della Rovere and would have made a common front with him, against the Pope and Malatesta himself, so that the latter would not have extended his expansionist aims towards the South. Who knows! Andrea would not have been sorry to return to Jesi and be able to see his beloved again. But if he hadn’t even been informed of the death of his sworn enemy, Cardinal Baldeschi, let alone if it had passed through the Duke’s mind to have him return home. So Andrea decided to remain silent and continue listening to Duke Berengario’s reasoning, distractedly bringing some potatoes to his mouth and savouring their delicate goodness. Only a few years before, the existence of this delicious tuber, which had recently been imported from the New World, was not even known. A servant poured red wine into his bowl and he gobbled it to accompany the potatoes on their way to his stomach.

«The recently appointed Pope, Adriano VI, is a puppet, a puppet in the hands of the ecclesiastical oligarchy, who made it possible to wipe out the House of Medici, who were taking too much power, even in Rome. I don’t think it will last long, before Giulio de’ Medici devises something to take him out and take back the reins of the Ecclesiastical State. So we must seize the moment before it’s too late. Early tomorrow morning, Andrea, you will leave for Pesaro, where you will take command of a garrison of Sigismondo Malatesta’s army. You will lead this garrison towards Urbino, while the Malatesta will reach the same city from the North with the rest of his army, through the Montefeltro territories. You will grip Urbino in a vice, from the north and the south, and both the Medici occupying Montefeltro and Count Boschetti, who governs Urbino on behalf of the Holy See, will have no escape. You, Gesualdo, will accompany Andrea as far as Pesaro. The road is long and risky, and you know the best ways to go. You will make sure that Andrea arrives at his destination as soon as possible. Then you’ll come straight back. Whether he knows that for some reason, valid or not, you followed Andrea into battle. In four days I want you back here in the castle, or else...», and two fingers crawled through the skin of his neck, simulating what a knife blade pressed against his jugular would do.

Even trying with himself not to admit it, Andrea had noticed a light of betrayal shining in the Duke’s eyes as he spoke. He had never trusted him, and now even less so. When he and Gesualdo were dismissed and, on their way out, they met two ugly thugs, who had never seen each other at court before, Andrea’s fears were even more pronounced. Fortunately, The Mancino, in whom he had blind faith, in the hours and days to come, would be at his side to defend him at the cost of his own life.

«Who do you think those two are, Gesualdo? Assassins, perhaps? Cutthroat?»

«I don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve seen them. But their faces don’t inspire anything good. But let’s not talk about that here. Come on, let’s go pick out the horses for the morning. We can talk quietly in the stables.»

When Matthew and Amilcare were inside the hall, the Duke had the door bolted, then clapped his hands. Immediately some handmaids, dressed in colourful clothes, with transparencies that highlighted all their feminine graces, reached the hall through a back door and began to dance to a melody played by invisible musicians, hidden who knows where. Berengario was over sixty and, in his life, he had had three wives, all disappeared at a young age and in mysterious circumstances. Someone, at court, whispered that he himself had had them killed, once they had bored him. He had always been a lustful, as well as a lover of the delights of the table, so much so that he had doubts as to which circle of hell he would end up in after his death. But little mattered. The important thing was to enjoy the pleasures that life offered him while he could. And from that point of view, in private, he didn’t want to miss anything. He reached out to one of the handmaids, the one wearing a bright red tunic, and ripped it off her, leaving her completely naked. The girl already knew what she had to do, and she was well aware that, if she did not perform her task properly, the next day her lifeless body would be found in the middle of the woods by some hunter. She approached the Duke and pulled down his stockings. Then she took the member in her hands until it was swollen, lowered her prosperous breasts down her lord’s belly, trying to excite him more and more. Only when she felt the man about to explode, she turned over and allowed herself to be sodomized. In the end, the Duke drove out a satisfied cry of pleasure and, as a reward, slipped a gold coin into the dimple between the young woman’s breasts, who was able to hold it without letting it fall to the ground.

«Come on, my dear guests! There’s food and women for everyone in here. Bring it on. It’s on me, and I’m generous today. And at the end, we’ll talk business, too.»

The stables of the castle of Massignano could hold more than a hundred horses, but there were about thirty at the moment. Leaving aside the quieter and more docile mares, The Mancino drove Andrea to the area where a few brick compartments had been built, where the fiercest steeds were locked up to prevent them from getting nervous just by seeing each other.

«Stallions are harder to assemble, but they give much more satisfaction. They are much quicker and can shoot at the enemy, not giving a damn about the arrows hissing near their ears. And even if you weigh them down with trappings, their performance is very little reduced. Here it is», said Gesuald, opening the door of a shelter, where a black horse whined nervously at the sight of the newcomers. «Ruffo is my favorite. He is a Murgese, a horse from Puglia, where horses were once bred for the Emperor Frederick II of Swabia and his family.»

Andrea appreciated the beautiful shapes of the steed, then lowered his eyes to study its legs and hooves.

«You can see that it’s not a horse bred in green and humid plains, but on the arid and stony hills of the Murgia. We love to remember Frederick II in Jesi, because it is the city where he was born, and I had the opportunity to have in my hands his treatise “De arte venandi cum avibus”, where he describes how these were horses suitable for falconry, because, unlike others, the Murgese is not afraid of hawks or eagles flying around him, especially when they swoop down to return to the gloved arm of the master...»

Their speeches were interrupted by hearing voices indicating the presence of other people. The Mancino signalled to Andrea to be silent and to remain hidden, cowering near Ruffo and approaching the wooden door of the shelter without closing it completely. The two thugs just crossed paths in the rooms upstairs had perhaps had the same idea, that of coming to choose the horses for the next day. Convinced that there was no one in the stables, they spoke quite loudly, so that it was easy to hear them talking. A lump went up to Andrea’s throat when the guys stopped right in front of the half-closed door of Ruffo’s shelter. The idea of being discovered in there and having to face them weren’t much liking to him, also because both he and Gesualdo were unarmed.

Luckily, the two of them moved on.

«It’s better not to risk riding stallions we don’t know about», said the older, uglier one, a guy with a pockmarked face framed by a shaved beard. «Let’s get two young geldings, instead. We have the advantage of the night anyway. We’ll reach the Montignano Tower at our leisure and have plenty of time to prepare for the ambush. It will be a quick and easy job and the Duke will reward us well.»

The other one accompanied the last words said by his friend with a loud and fat laugh. Under the incredulous eyes of Andrea and Gesualdo, who continued to remain well hidden, threw their miserable saddlebags on the first two horses that came into their sights, jumped on the animals’ backs and disappeared in the darkness of the night, leaving behind them the wake of their loud laughter and their pestilential smell.

CHAPTER 5

Culture is what most people get,

many transmit and few have.

(Karl Kraus)

That morning, too, Lucia woke up, with the first rays of the sun filtering through the shutter, in Andrea’s comforting arms. Her naked body, saturated of love, of the love given and received during the night, was protected by the strong and muscular arms of her beloved, which enclosed him like a shell. She had known Andrea for such a short time and yet she was so in love with him that she could no longer conceive her life without him. If at that moment she had woken up on a bed alone, she would already have found herself with a lit cigarette between her fingers, even before she got up. But now she didn’t, now Andrea was there to satisfy her, and nothing else was needed. She had discovered in him a man who was passionate about culture, history, ancient and modern literature, and this made that young man the ideal companion for her, with whom to share interests and passions, beyond the home and the bed. She had asked him more than once what kind of work he did and he had always answered evasively: the anthropologist, the archaeologist, the geologist. In short, she had not yet understood exactly what his source of financial support was. In order to be a researcher, as he defined himself, he had to have support, to be a scholarship holder in some university at least, Italian or foreign. Or have funding from some important private organization interested in his studies. You knew very well how difficult it was to carry out research with the limited funds made available by the government and the Ministry of University and Research. It seemed as if Andrea had enough money to do whatever was on his mind. But perhaps he was supported by the wealth of his family of origin. Who knows, maybe the Franciolini family, over time, had managed to administer their assets in a more effective and productive way than the Baldeschi-Balleani. But what did it matter? Now she still enjoyed the warmth of skin-to-skin contact, contrasted by the coolness of the sheets that partly covered their bodies. Outside soon the sun would hit hard, but the thick walls of the ancient Palazzo Franciolini kept the environment cool even in the middle of summer, without the need to install any air conditioning splits.