Medici ~ Ascendancy Page 19

  ‘Which did not stop him losing,’ pointed out Mocenigo.

  ‘And therefore,’ said Sforza, looking at the elegant man with the thin moustache who represented the Most Serene Republic, ‘what do you suggest doing?’

  ‘Captain, I shall be frank. We know how close you are to Milan and to Filippo Maria. It is no secret that a few years ago he offered you his daughter Bianca Maria as well as the fiefs of Castellazzo, Bosco and Frugarolo. I’m not trying to interfere in your business but to point out that what matters most at this moment in time is clear and consistent conduct. The truth is that Filippo Maria must be stopped as soon as possible. Before it’s too late. If this alliance of ours holds, we will be in a position to exert a hegemony over the entire peninsula. On this I believe you have no doubts whatsoever, or am I wrong?’

  ‘Not at all,’ answered Sforza.

  ‘But above all, my friend,’ Cosimo pointed out, ‘you must aspire to that which you have so far been unfairly denied. You don’t mention it because you are afraid to speak its name, and I understand why, but I am not afraid to say that it is to you I look when I think of the Duchy of Milan. I told you a few years ago and I’ll tell you again now: my brother and I will always be at your side if and when you want to try and take what is rightfully yours.’

  Lorenzo nodded.

  ‘My friends,’ continued Cosimo, ‘I believe that the time has come for us to stop fighting wars so that we can finally focus our attention on the peace and beauty which are the foundation of prosperity. After the removal of Albizzi and Strozzi, Florence is once again on the rise: the consecration of the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore is only the first step along a road which will be lined with wonders of art and advances in knowledge. For this to happen, though, the political situation must be made secure and Lucca placed under our control. Captain Sforza knows only too well how long this war has been dragging on, seeing that around six years ago we met in his tent and he inaugurated our friendship by abandoning his camp. By so doing, he allowed us the conquest of a city that has still not been tamed. On the other hand, it is obvious that Venice needs to consolidate its dominion on terra firma, as Gattamelata is fighting the Visconti troops near Padua and Piove di Sacco. And finally, Pope Eugene IV, who was forced to flee Rome, still hopes to be able to return to the Eternal City, despite the warm welcome we have given him in Florence.’

  ‘Let’s assume that we all agree with what you’ve said,’ said Mocenigo. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘The point is that each of us has a clear objective but is too weak individually to take on the Duchy of Milan. But if we accepted how much more productive it would be for all of us to act together, I believe it would provide the solution to all our problems. In short, are we ready to put aside our differences and use everything at our disposal to create a league against the duke which, working in turn for the benefit of one of us and then for the benefit of the other, strengthens us all?’

  That final question hung in the air until Francesco Sforza broke the silence. ‘Cosimo, I thank you for your words. I’d like to take the perhaps excessive liberty of asking you this: how would you commit yourself to supporting my claims to the Duchy?’

  ‘I will be frank with you, Francesco, since I want no misunderstandings between us: with every instrument necessary. Apertis verbis: the Medici bank would be at your disposal. We would give you all our financial support.’

  Francesco Sforza’s eyes glinted for a moment with a cunning light: Cosimo had managed to arouse his interest. Not that it took a huge amount of imagination but, as he had said, that was the direction in which the alliance could and should go. The Medici were not fighting men but they did have their own financial empire, and he and the Venetian army could be an important military wing of it – Venice had access to the sea while Rome, with Eugene IV, would guarantee the spiritual superiority of the alliance, as well as a good number of soldiers.

  Wasn’t that the way a monarch was supposed to think?

  Francesco Sforza stood there with an expression of amazement on his face. But then, he thought, how could the Medici ever have got where they were and made Florence their de facto seigniory if they had lacked the vision Cosimo had just displayed?

  ‘Very well,’ he said eventually, ‘you are right. Just like six years ago, today we seal a pact, an alliance, and – like then – the bonds that unite us grow stronger still. I will be ready to come to your aid and I expect that you will do the same for me. Together we can bring equilibrium to these lands and remove them from the control of a man who is as greedy as he is mad. Let us dare, let us fight until the bitter end and let us try to bring peace back to Milan, Venice, Florence and Rome. Together, we cannot fail.’

  Cosimo de’ Medici’s eyes sparkled.

  ‘Let it be so,’ he said, ‘and woe to any who try to stop us.’

  42

  Poisons and the Major Arcana

  Laura was sitting at a table, arrayed upon which were the cards of the Major Arcana.

  Filippo Maria Visconti watched her beautiful tawny fingers, their nails painted carmine red, as they moved rapidly over the backs of the tarot, as though weaving a web of invisible lines in the air.

  The duke was completely under her spell. It was not just her beauty – though that entranced him – it was also her indefinable aura of damnation and sorcery. When he had seen her for the first time, he had immediately been hypnotized by those dark-green eyes with their hints of gold and had decided then and there to make her his favourite. But in a very special way.

  It was not only his bodily senses that trembled under her gaze, or the blood which burned in his veins or that unspeakable sinful desire which inflamed his limbs, but a fascination with the arcane and unspeakable power which emanated from her and which somehow made him her slave.

  He would never have been able to explain the tangle of emotions he felt within him when he saw her. There was something of the spider about her, some dangerous and perfidious seduction. And yet it was precisely for that reason that he so desperately sought her out.

  Like every time they met, Filippo Maria let his eyes lose themselves in hers, ready and impatient to listen to her prophecies and to follow her advice, for he believed that the woman had the power to predict the outcomes of battles and influence earthly matters. This, as well as knowing how to extinguish lives with the potions and concoctions he commissioned her to create so as to carry out the wicked acts his black heart devised.

  The cards were at the centre of the large round table. Thick and decorated with magnificent patterns, they were edged with gold and exquisitely designed. Around them were countless bottles and jars of various shades filled with coloured powders, dried flowers, herbs and liquids as transparent and odourless as they were lethal.

  Laura was clad in black, her long dress decorated with silver and precious stones. Sleeves of light-blue brocade, woven with pearls and tied with leather laces, left her shoulders naked, revealing her beautiful arms. Her eyes were dark and her long lashes a like bird’s feathers. Her full lips, painted a red so dark it was almost purple, looked livid and ready to take possession of men’s minds.

  She was a vision, and she was there for him alone. Filippo Maria looked at her for a long time while she regarded him in silence. He said nothing, but inside him his heart cried out with lust.

  ‘First of all,’ said Laura, ‘I wish to remind your grace that what I read in the cards is not the future but simply what I have learned from the study of the tarot over the years. An interpretation of what the cards tell us, without any pretence of being truth. I say this to advise you to adopt the detachment befitting a moment like this – I know you believe that I see in them what is yet to happen, but I must warn you that it is not so.’

  Still looking at the duke, Laura raised the first card.

  ‘Do you see this man hanging upside down, bound to the branch by one foot, my lord?’ And she pointed to the figure with the index finger of her right hand. The carmine fingernail flash
ed in the light of the candles and braziers that illuminated the room and, for a moment, something in the fireplace seemed to roar.

  Filippo Maria nodded in silence.

  ‘The hanged man holds his hands behind his back. As you can see, his face is calm and reveals no fear or uncertainty. Although the image makes us think of torture, we must not stop at a reading based purely upon what we see first. We must look closer – at the young man’s expression – and think again. He undoubtedly represents the value of sacrifice, but also the acceptance of a choice that leads to imminent and radical change – a renewal of oneself. The card came out the right way up, so there is no doubt as to what it suggests.’

  ‘Could it allude to our meeting? To the fact that I’ve changed since I met you, my lady?’

  Laura seemed to reflect for a moment. ‘That could certainly be, your grace, but only if you believe that our meeting has changed you as a man and in the way you make your choices...’ Laura hesitated, then went on. ‘May I speak freely?’

  ‘Not only may you, you must,’ thundered Filippo Maria. ‘I demand it!’

  ‘Very well. I believe that this card indicates that you should take a different approach during the war that awaits you. We know how fleeting alliances are and how easily they can change, and it is in these continuous shifts that your grace has always tried to build his fortunes, often by suddenly changing side. But in the long run, this constant volatility might cost you. So make a choice. You have finally found men capable of guaranteeing you victory.’

  ‘Niccolò Piccinino? The commander of my army?’

  ‘Not only him.’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘Think of the man who helped you most of all in the recent campaign against the Genoese and the Venetians. A man who was brought before you not so very long ago.’

  ‘Reinhardt Schwartz?’

  ‘Precisely, your grace. It is he and Niccolò who will lead you to victory, provided that you make the choice to abandon Sforza and prepare to face your enemies, who, however well organized they may be, cannot defeat you. This, at least, is what the hanged man suggests to me. But let us see...’

  Laura raised the second card.

  Filippo saw a young girl with golden hair, dressed in dark blue, her head crowned with a wreath of flowers and her dress strewn with petals. The girl’s delicate hands rested upon the stubby muzzle of a lion, its long teeth clearly visible and its mane thick and flowing. But far from appearing dangerous or ferocious, the beast seemed tame, almost affectionate, towards the young woman.

  ‘Strength,’ said Laura. ‘This time, though, the card came out upside down. As you can see, your grace, the unusual combination of girl and beast does not suggest conflict but rather harmony, as though to advise in the use of force a balance of reason and ruthlessness where necessary, as long as the second is governed by the first. Because excessive trust in anger and cruelty would mean you would be lost. This implies that you must advise your men also to be merciful and stop them indulging in rape and looting. Let their wages be their compensation. Losing the support of lands conquered by greed and avarice always proves a bad investment.’

  ‘So I should limit the bloodthirsty temperament of my men?’ asked the duke with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Are you certain this is necessary?’

  ‘As I have already told you, my lord, there is no certainty in the cards. In this regard, poisons are much more reliable. There is always a component of chance, especially as I am not making predictions. But there is no doubt that the cards speak their own language; what they communicate in their messages benefits those able to interpret them. My purpose is certainly not to deceive you. I simply tell you what I know and try, together with you, to adapt that to reality. You are under no obligation to comply. You should simply decide whether there are aspects of these reflections that you feel strike the mark.’

  Laura’s words sounded very sweet to Filippo Maria. There was a seductiveness about the woman’s throaty voice that he found immensely alluring, and he spent the whole week awaiting the moment when he would meet Laura to have his cards read.

  ‘So you must decide what you feel is the most appropriate way to behave. However, you should also know that if the warning contains truth – and there is no way of knowing this before the fact – then not respecting it may determine your defeat. Pay close attention to the choice you make, especially as the card was upside down, which confirms that you are often unable to curb the violent part of your temperament. The insecurity and brutality that lead to impulsiveness can only make you lose. Perhaps for good. Aggression too can have a negative effect upon your relationships with others, and the upside-down Strength card indicates an inability to experience positive feelings, which might push some people away from you.’

  ‘Let’s continue,’ begged the duke, his trembling voice growing annoyed and high-pitched, like that of a capricious child.

  Laura turned over the third card.

  Death made its appearance.

  The duke’s eyes flashed with terror. The chilling vision was horrible to behold: a yellow skeleton sat astride a horse whose coat was as shiny and black as coal and looked as if it had galloped straight out of the mouth of the underworld. Death held a long-handled scythe whose long blade raked the severed heads under the horse’s hooves.

  Sensing the duke’s fears, Laura reassured him immediately. ‘Death, your grace, is not a negative card in itself. Think again of the message of the Hanged Man: Death too should be understood as an end that brings with it the seeds of change and regeneration. Especially since the card came out the right way up. Its meaning is, of course, obscure and ambiguous, and thus it remains a symbol of a fragile balance – of a violent change that is difficult to overcome. Especially in light of what we have said about Strength. Personally I think that a very important battle is approaching.’

  ‘When will it be?’

  There was madness in Filippo Maria’s eyes. Laura knew all too well the mood swings that made him behave like a frightened little boy – the hysterical weeping, followed by sudden fits of anger. Yet he wanted her to continue, so she decided to do as he bade her, regardless of the consequences. She knew that her privileged life in the court inevitably depended upon the happiness of the duke who, precisely because he was perverted and sick, lived for those tarot readings and for watching her preparing her poisons. Life had taught her all too well not to create problems for herself. She would manage him, just as she always had.

  ‘I cannot say, your grace, but I feel that when it arrives we will know it: it will be a supreme moment, and when it comes, you and your soldiers must make good use of the virtues of which we have spoken.’

  ‘Show me the last one,’ the duke croaked, his voice now breaking with emotion and the pupils in his huge eyes as small as pinheads.

  Laura turned over the final card.

  ‘The Devil,’ she said, and as soon as she had uttered the word, she felt a twinge in her heart, for she sensed something strange in the silence. She could not have said what it was, yet a gloomy, creeping something had suddenly drowned the calm, replacing it with a chilling feeling of emptiness.

  ‘Fortunately,’ said the duke, ‘he came out right way up.’

  ‘Alas, your grace, the Devil is the only card of the Trumps which obeys the opposite rule. This means that if it is drawn right way up, as in this case, the meaning can be one and one alone: darkness, weakness, submission to the fear of taking responsibility. The Devil announces a great tragedy on the horizon, represented by our fears and our inability to face the events of life.’

  The duke began to tremble. He rose shakily to his feet; then he collapsed to the cold marble of the floor. He burst into tears and his shoulders heaved with sobs like a slapped child suffocated by shame.

  Laura got up and went over to him.

  ‘Your grace,’ she murmured in a soft, warm voice. ‘Come to me. Be brave; do not be afraid.’ His chest
still heaving and his shoulders shaking with sobs, Filippo Maria Visconti turned around and crawled over to Laura and embraced her; soon afterwards he began to calm down. In that marvellous woman alone did he see salvation. She was the only creature capable of understanding and forgiving him – of standing by him and giving him what he so desperately needed.

  He clung to her, letting himself be cradled against her soft body. Slowly, the tears ceased to fall.

  ‘Kiss me, my angel,’ he whimpered. Laura put her beautiful lips on his, and Filippo Maria kissed them, gently and then with increasing fervour until finally he was filled with raw lust. His frightened, quivering mouth fixed on Laura’s, his huge tongue flickering between his lips. It searched and found hers.

  The poisoner stroked his head and the duke surrendered to her, trying to drown in pleasure the words he had heard.

  Fear, pain and pleasure: the recipe for the most powerful poison of all. Laura knew its characteristics well, as she had experienced its effects first-hand.

  His fat hands began to undress her, as though by taking off her clothes he could fill his empty heart, and his eyes lingered on the curves of her body. His tongue inside her, his breath reeking of his broken teeth. The wounded moans of a frightened and perverse child; the tears that still fell, wetting her tawny skin; the fingers that explored her, squeezing and kneading in a madness of anger and terror.

  Laura let him do it. It didn’t hurt. It was no worse than she had already endured.

  She lay on the ice-cold marble while the duke unlaced her bodice. His gasps, the creeping rise of his lust – everything about him was disgusting and repugnant but no more than she was herself. She who had accepted every compromise, even the most squalid, in order to keep hidden away in a corner of herself the scrap of a feeling that resembled love.

  She felt lost without Reinhardt. She would do anything to remain beside him.