Medici ~ Ascendancy Page 12

  ‘I know Messer Farganaccio and he truly is a man of spirit. I believe I understand why you are making this request. Especially given that Farganaccio is a friend of Bernardo Guadagni. I will not hinder you. As I said, I am no supporter of the Medici but neither am I a supporter of Rinaldo degli Albizzi, and if I can help in some way to prevent a death sentence, well – I will not hesitate.’

  Contessina almost fainted when she heard his words.

  ‘You will do it, then?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? After all, it’s simply a matter of Farganaccio dining with Cosimo de’ Medici.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ whispered an ecstatic Contessina. ‘You cannot know how much this means to me.’

  Such was the joy in her heart that she couldn’t stop herself from embracing him. Malavolti practically jumped with shock at her effusions. He returned her embrace; then he broke away from her and stepped back a couple of paces.

  ‘It is I who should thank you, my lady, for giving me the opportunity to prove my honour and good faith. And now I should take you back to the tower entrance, so that you may take your leave. Your visit was long – and certainly profitable! – but I would not want to invite complaints from the Gonfaloniere of Justice. We must behave as irreproachably as we can.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Contessina, ‘I understand perfectly. But I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have done.’

  ‘I have not done anything yet, my lady, and there’s no saying whether our idea will lead anywhere. But let us hope that it helps save your husband’s life. I would never forgive myself if it did not.’

  So saying, and letting those words of hope drift away through the cold air of the tower, Federico Malavolti descended the stairs, leading Contessina to the entrance and wishing her farewell.

  The situation was by no means resolved, but a less gloomy light now shone upon the fate of Cosimo de’ Medici. Not to mention that Lorenzo was preparing to besiege the city. That was another reason to hope that her negotiations would bear fruit. Who knew what Piccarda would have said about what she’d done? Piccarda would certainly have acted in the same way. Would she have been proud of her if she could have seen her in that moment? Contessina hoped so.

  One more reason to fight on until the bitter end. Not only for her husband and for the love that bound their hearts, not only for the children who were waiting for her at home, but also so as not to betray the memory of those who had made the Medici great and who had given her so much in the past.

  She had acted as she should.

  The only thing she could do now was to put her faith in God and his mercy.

  But would that be enough?

  October 1433

  29

  The Plot

  ‘Death: that is the only possible sentence for the man.’

  Rinaldo degli Albizzi was more determined than ever. His loathing of the Medici was atavistic. He hated what they represented, and even more importantly knew that if they remained alive, sooner or later they would become a threat once more. He had to eradicate them, just as Laura had said. The anger in her had surprised him, but it was just one more reason for wanting to put an end to the Medici.

  ‘I understand why you think so,’ said Palla Strozzi, ‘but we must tread carefully. Those two brothers are still very powerful. If we condemn Cosimo to death for treason and tyranny, we will have the peasants, the common people and a section of the nobility against us. As we speak, Lorenzo de’ Medici is gathering an army at the gates of Florence. We shouldn’t underestimate the threat.’

  ‘And that is why we have to kill them both,’ shouted Rinaldo.

  Palla Strozzi snorted with annoyance. Why did Albizzi always see that as the only possible solution?

  ‘I am not saying we should not, but let us not forget that several nobles have sided with the Medici. Piero Guicciardini, Tommaso and Niccolò Soderini and Puccio and Giovanni Pucci have already joined Lorenzo. I believe that exile is the best solution.’

  ‘Of course!’ exploded Rinaldo degli Albizzi. ‘What a wonderful idea! Do you think that the Medici will stop exercising their nefarious influence on this city even if they are far away? They have friends everywhere! They have them in Venice – the branch of their bank there is so successful that they made an alliance with the doge himself. And in Milan too, if it is true that Cosimo counts Francesco Sforza among his friends – and Sforza seems destined to overthrow the Duchy soon. In this moment, only Rome is perhaps his enemy, and I am not even sure of that, given that the Medici bank is the depository of the Apostolic Chamber – the papal treasure. Do you truly not realize the threat the Medici pose for us? And do you honestly believe that allowing them to live is a solution?’

  Bernardo Guadagni had to admit that, though blinded by anger, Rinaldo had listed the dangers with surprising lucidity. But he remained unconvinced that a death sentence against Cosimo de’ Medici was wise. The truth was that the Council of the Two Hundred was split down the middle, and was actually slightly in favour of exile. This fact could not be ignored, which was why he was closeted up here with Rinaldo and Palla in the armoury overlooking the courtyard of the Palazzo della Signoria. If anyone had seen them they would certainly have taken them for conspirators, which for all intents and purposes was what they were. The Council of the Two Hundred had adjourned temporarily after their endless succession of meetings attempting to arrive at a clear decision upon the fate of Cosimo de’ Medici. For the moment the building was quiet.

  ‘I don’t think condemning him to death would be a good idea,’ Guadagni said. He saw Rinaldo’s eyes fill with rage and immediately added, ‘I don’t mean that he shouldn’t die. But it is important that happens by chance and not as the result of a conviction.’

  ‘Dear Bernardo,’ Rinaldo remarked coldly, ‘I hope that I do not have to remind you how you became the Gonfaloniere of Justice of the Florentine Republic.’

  ‘I have not forgotten, but that doesn’t mean I should be imprudent now. I would be very careful about condemning a man like Cosimo to death. The initial aim was to free the city of a tyrant, and I do not believe that capital punishment is the solution. My loyalty to you is not in dispute, Messer Rinaldo, but precisely because, as you yourself pointed out, the Medici have powerful friendships, we must make sure not to invite their wrath.’

  ‘Not to mention,’ added Palla Strozzi cryptically, ‘that Florence is at war with Lucca at the moment—’

  ‘A war,’ Rinaldo interrupted, ‘which the skill of our orators managed to make him seem responsible for.’

  ‘I am well aware of that,’ continued Palla, annoyed, ‘I myself was one of them. But now as well as the war against Lucca there will be civil war if Lorenzo marches on Florence.’

  ‘All the more reason to eliminate the Medici!’ said Rinaldo.

  ‘Yes, but some might decide that we were to blame for this second conflict – and, to be frank, they wouldn’t be too far from the truth.’

  ‘So be it, then! What do you suggest?’ asked Rinaldo. ‘Because I warn you that I have no intention of letting an opportunity like this slip through my fingers. We have let him get away too many times in the past.’

  ‘Let’s wait a few more days,’ said Bernardo. ‘We will try to use our men to shift the position of the Council but without giving them the impression that we are attempting a show of force. In the meantime, let’s prepare to hold off an attack by Lorenzo. I’ll gather the Ten of Balia tonight so that the patrols and guards are doubled. I will put all the available men at the gates and on the walls of the city. That is all we can do: prepare. Two more days and then we will decide one way or another. If face goes against us and the result is exile, we will find some way to make it particularly unpleasant for Cosimo.’

  Rinaldo snorted with annoyance, but eventually nodded his assent.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘but let’s not wait too long or I swear to you that I will kill them with my own two hands.’

  *


  Cosimo had been awake all night. He had tossed and turned on the bench, but the wood was as agonizingly uncomfortable as the bed of Procrustes. The warm light which came through the window filled the Alberghetto cell with tepid air. He heard the key turn in the lock and barely had time to get up before Francesco Malavolti had entered the room.

  As usual, Francesco’s frank, calm face made Cosimo feel a little less lost.

  ‘Messer Cosimo, last night I spoke with your wife Contessina. I had not realized that you were refusing the food I brought you because you feared it poisoned, so this morning I will eat with you from the same plate to prove that you can trust me. I harbour no hatred for your faction and I think it is profoundly unjust to hold you responsible for the misfortunes of our Republic. And though I have no idea whether you are guilty of the crimes of which you are accused, I think you deserve at least to have your life spared.’

  Francesco stopped speaking and placed the plate on the table. He broke a piece of bread and ate a bite. Then another one. He took the pitcher and poured some water into the wooden cup. He drank it.

  He looked Cosimo in the eyes and waited.

  Some moments passed; they both remained silent. Francesco Malavolti knew that recent events had left Cosimo absolutely exhausted. Not so much the imprisonment itself, as he had only been in the tower for a few days, but the distress of not knowing what his future held. The people gathered outside every day, and that morning was no exception – they were already crowding the square below. From the cell window overlooking the square they could hear the shouts and the noise. The Council of the Two Hundred had not reached a verdict and the Gonfaloniere of Justice was prevaricating. It was a slow torture, and a man needed to be in a strong fame of mind to withstand it, thought Malavolti.

  Without adding another word, Francesco held out his hand. ‘Do you trust me, Messer Cosimo?’

  ‘I do,’ answered Cosimo, grasping it. ‘And I thank you for this proof of your honesty.’ He embraced him. ‘I do not have many friends these days, unfortunately,’ he continued, ‘so your kindness is even more dear to me.’

  Federico was almost moved.

  ‘It’s not true that you have few friends, Messer Cosimo. There are many who support you, both inside and outside the palazzo. You must have faith. Things will come to a peaceful resolution: I have no doubt of it. And in order to facilitate this, tonight I would like to bring Messer Farganaccio to the Alberghetto. He is a courteous and kind man, and I consider him one of my closest friends. I know, too, that he holds you in high esteem. If you are agreeable, we could have dinner together.’

  ‘The opportunity to dine with you both would be an unexpected pleasure,’ said Cosimo.

  ‘Very well, then. I will have the cook prepare something tasty to help you recover after your long fast, if not in your soul, at least in your limbs. And who knows, after having restored your strength, perhaps fate will smile on you too,’ concluded Francesco enigmatically.

  ‘I really do not know how to thank you,’ said Cosimo.

  ‘Do not thank me yet – nothing is certain.’

  ‘I will wait, then. I have nothing else to do, after all.’

  ‘Very well. Until tonight. Let us see what happens.’

  30

  Reinhardt Schwartz

  Reinhardt Schwartz had just awoken and he stretched slowly, savouring every moment of indolence.

  He had certainly earned himself a good night’s sleep! After a long ride the previous day, he had been kept busy cracking heads and attacking Lorenzo de’ Medici’s camp. It was par for the course, but he was sick and tired of being Rinaldo degli Albizzi’s damned pet. He needed a break. Lorenzo de’ Medici was no soldier – how could he be? The man was a banker – but he had guts, you had to give him that. And he kept finding himself face to face with the man.

  Albizzi paid him, Schwartz kept telling himself. But when you tell yourself that you do what you do because you are paid and yet still do it unwillingly... well, something’s wrong. And Schwartz had been aware of that hint of doubt for two years now. Not to mention that if he continued to work for Albizzi, sooner or later he would find himself with a few inches of steel sticking out of his chest. It was only a matter of time.

  He had to stop letting himself be used. Some risk was acceptable, but only if he were given extra protection. And he would have to tell his master that at the first opportunity, because he couldn’t carry on like this.

  He looked around him. After the sortie in Lorenzo de’ Medici’s camp the previous night, he had taken shelter at an inn in the Florentine countryside, and his room was simple but pleasant.

  That morning, after finally sleeping in a proper bed with clean sheets, he rose without haste when the sun was already high in the sky, washed his face in the iron basin filled with cold water, then dressed and went downstairs to the inn’s kitchen.

  He found Laura waiting for him. The day was starting in the best possible way.

  When he saw her, he bowed and kissed her beautiful hand.

  ‘I can barely believe what I’m seeing. Why this unusual gallantry, Reinhardt?’

  Schwartz pretended to be offended.

  ‘Are you really so surprised, mein Schatz? Isn’t this arm of mine not the one which embraces you in the darkest of moments?’

  Laura smiled. That morning she was radiant.

  ‘Very well,’ she said with unusual indulgence. ‘How much time do we have?’

  ‘There is no need to rush. That looks delicious,’ he said, pointing to a magnificent quail pie which sat proudly on the table. Next to it, Schwartz saw a basket of crusty bread, a tray full of seasonal fruit, wild boar ham and cheese. The only thing missing was wine.

  ‘Vernaccia di San Gimignano?’ he suggested.

  ‘Wine? At this time of the morning?’ she teased him. ‘How vulgar, my impetuous Reinhardt.’

  ‘You suggest something different?’

  ‘I’m not going to share this sumptuous meal with you, but if I were to suggest a wine, then I would choose a Chianti, since that’s a quail pie in front of you.’

  ‘Excellent,’ he said, smoothing his thick blond moustaches.

  He nodded to a serving girl and when she came over to them, asked her to bring a bottle of the best Chianti at once. Laura, instead, ordered an infusion of camomile with honey.

  While they waited for their drinks, Schwartz began to tuck into the pie. It was a true delicacy.

  ‘Rinaldo is determined to see it through,’ said Laura, ‘but he confessed to me last night that his allies don’t seem ready to do the same.’

  Schwartz raised an eyebrow ‘Wirklich?’

  ‘That’s right. After having become Gonfaloniere of Justice thanks to him, Bernardo Guadagni now seems recalcitrant. And Palla Strozzi, as you know, is a born procrastinator. That is the situation in Florence. What about you? Did you carry out your task?’

  ‘In every detail. Thanks to the attack last night, it will be at least another couple of days before Lorenzo de’ Medici can move on the city.’

  ‘Very good. That will give us all the time we need to retire to my estate in Veneto.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Albizzi wants us out of the way.’

  ‘To avoid anything being traced back to us?’

  ‘Precisely. I came to pick you up in an unmarked carriage. When you’ve eaten your fill, we should get on the road to Padua without further delay.’

  Schwartz grimaced. He didn’t like travelling by carriage. It seemed to him a very effeminate mode of transport, and he disliked its slowness. A horse was much better. But, on the other hand, a carriage without insignia did guarantee anonymity.

  ‘Very well, then,’ he agreed, cutting himself some thick slices of wild boar ham with his knife and relishing their intense flavour.

  The drinks arrived and he took a mouthful of the Chianti. It was delicious.

  ‘This wine is nectar. Thanks for the advice, my beautiful friend. Why Padua?’

  ‘A dear adm
irer of mine dwells there.’

  ‘Naturally. Stupid question.’

  ‘In any case, Albizzi wants us far from here but, at the same time, ready to join Cosimo wherever he ends up – that’s if he’s spared and exiled.’

  ‘Ah,’ exclaimed Schwartz, ‘so that’s his plan.’

  ‘He always wants to have the upper hand, and I can’t blame him for that. I confess that I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to kill that damned Lorenzo de’ Medici for me, though.’

  Schwartz couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘That dandy,’ he said. ‘He was standing right before my eyes last night. If I had known, I would have opened him up like a goat for you, mein Kätzchen!’

  ‘If I think about him stalking and spying on me all that time... and he almost managed to catch me... I hate him. He and his brother are a plague upon this city.’

  ‘Please, don’t speak to me of the plague.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Ach, it’s a long story. Perhaps I’ll tell you on the way.’

  ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘So why do you hate the Medici so much?’

  ‘That too is a long story, but I doubt I will ever tell you it.’

  ‘Ach, wie schade!’ exclaimed Schwartz, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  While they spoke, a group of men sat down at a table behind them. They were talking in loud voices and sounded as though they were already drunk even though it was not yet lunchtime. From the tone of their conversation, it seemed that they sided with the Medici.

  ‘If it was up to me I would kill the lot of them,’ said Schwartz, lowering his voice.

  For a moment Laura stared at him. ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘The Medici and Albizzi’s allies. Messer Rinaldo doesn’t have the guts for it.’