City of Vengeance

by D. V. Bishop

  Turning south into via dei Giudei, Aldo was still debating whom he should ask to examine the ledger. Rebecca would be able to read her father’s writing, but that didn’t mean she would understand what the entries denoted. Besides, she was still sitting shiva. Better to leave her in peace, if possible. Aldo paused outside Sciarra’s front door, but dismissed asking him for help. It would be impossible to trust a word coming out of that man’s mouth. Instead Aldo went to the far end of the narrow road, stopping outside Dante’s home.

  He knocked at the door, pushing his way inside as soon it opened. Dante objected to the intrusion until reminded of the denunzia against him still to be put before the Otto. And Aldo had another reason to want to talk behind a closed door. Uneasiness had nagged at him much of the day, the prickling skin sensation of being watched or followed. Each time he glanced round, there was nobody there and nobody looking at him. But the instinct still clawed at his senses, and trusting his instincts was usually what kept him alive.

  Inside Dante’s house was dark, shutters drawn on what daylight remained outside, a few flickering candles not enough to lift the gloom. Dante seemed to have shrunk in the few days since the murder. His frayed robes were hanging off him, while his face was gaunt and hollow-cheeked with dark smudges of exhaustion under the eyes. ‘Can you not let me grieve in peace?’ he asked. ‘Is it not enough I have admitted my guilt?’

  Aldo unwrapped the burnt ledger on a small dining table, the pungent aroma of burnt leather and paper billowing outward. ‘Do you recognize this?’

  Dante’s eyes widened. ‘That belonged to Samuele and me. What happened to it?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ Aldo said, opening the charred cover. ‘I need you to look inside, see if you can read what is left.’

  Dante brought a lit candle closer to illuminate the blackened pages. He turned to the back of the ledger, fingers tracing the torn binding threads. ‘We spent years building our business together. That somebody could tear it apart like this . . .’

  ‘Can you read the entries?’

  Dante peered at the ledger. He pointed to where the missing pages should be. ‘Someone has ripped out the oldest entries. Only the pages for the past few months are here.’

  Aldo nodded. That matched his own suspicion. Someone had torn out the back pages, hoping to erase the most recent entries. But Hebrew was written right to left across the page, and from the back of a book towards the front. ‘So you should able to tell me who Levi was lending money to in the last few weeks and months?’

  ‘Maybe. Samuele was more interested in coin than bookkeeping. Before he forced me out, I used to write all the debtors and loans in here. His entries were erratic, at best.’

  ‘How long will it take?’ Curfew was not far away; the Duke would be waiting.

  Dante shrugged. ‘A few hours. Maybe more.’

  ‘Start with the most recent entries. Look for new debtors, and large loans – anything beyond what Levi would normally make. I’ll be back soon,’ Aldo said, already leaving.

  Aldo stopped outside the door to Orvieto’s home. It was open, inviting him to enter. There were far more urgent things that had to be done, but still Aldo knocked. ‘Come in,’ the doctor called. ‘I’m at the back.’ Aldo went inside, shrugged off the borrowed cloak. It would have to be his reason for returning, though he had no wish to give it back.

  In the room at the rear of the house Orvieto stood at the far end of the table, its surface awash with glass-stoppered bottles of powders and unguents, each of them bearing Hebrew and Latin inscriptions. The handsome young man besotted with Rebecca Levi – Joshua, that was his name – sat to one side, staring at the bottles.

  Aldo held out the cloak. ‘I’m returning this.’

  Orvieto beamed, coming round the table to take the garment. ‘I was testing my student on his knowledge of remedies.’ Joshua gave Aldo a polite nod. ‘How’s the knee?’

  ‘Better.’ Aldo smiled. It hadn’t hurt all day. ‘Much better, thanks to you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ the doctor replied, resting a hand on Aldo’s shoulder. The touch sent a small thrill through him, reviving memories of strong hands massaging the salve into . . .

  ‘I’ll leave you to your lessons,’ Aldo said, retreating towards the doorway. Better to go before he made himself any more of a fool. One of Orvieto’s eyebrows – hidden from Joshua – was raised, a silent promise or perhaps an invitation.

  ‘Cesare,’ the doctor said.

  Aldo paused in the doorway. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Why don’t you keep the cloak for now. I have others, and most of my day is spent here in the warmth.’ Orvieto came closer, pressing the garment into Aldo’s hands. ‘You can always bring it back later.’ That was an invitation, said without doubt or hesitation.

  ‘Thank you,’ Aldo replied, gazing deep into the doctor’s eyes before giving a final nod to his student. Aldo strode back to the front door, but Joshua followed him out.

  ‘Are you still hunting for Samuele’s killer?’

  Aldo didn’t have time to reassure Rebecca’s would-be suitor. ‘Yes, but you must excuse me. I have to report my progress to the Duke before curfew.’

  Joshua stepped in Aldo’s way to stop him going. ‘Have you talked to Rebecca today?’

  ‘No. I promised Yedaiah I would leave her in peace, as much as I could.’

  ‘You misunderstand,’ Joshua said. ‘I think you should talk to Rebecca, or at least to her cousin. Ruth came from Bologna to sit shiva. She brought a letter that Samuele wrote. The way she and Rebecca were talking – it sounded important.’

  Aldo thanked Joshua, and went directly to the Levi home. The young woman who opened the door had some of the family traits in her stern face. Aldo introduced himself, expecting to have to argue his way in. But Ruth Levi was willing to talk, so long as they spoke outside. ‘Rebecca is sleeping, I don’t want her disturbed.’ She fetched a shawl and came back out, closing the door behind her. ‘I saw you at our house in Bologna,’ Ruth said. ‘You were the one who guarded Samuele on his journey home.’

  ‘For all the good it did.’

  ‘You did your duty. He died in his own home, not on the road.’

  Aldo told her what Joshua had said about the letter. Ruth pulled it from inside her shawl. ‘I thought you might want to see this.’ It was in Hebrew, but Ruth translated part of the text for him, fingers moving from right to left across the page. ‘Rebecca’s father feared for his life. He had decided to withhold a loan to a man of importance.’

  ‘Did your uncle name this man of importance?’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘These are Samuele’s exact words: You will find him in my ledger, if you look long enough.’ She stopped, frowning. ‘Is that why the ledger was stolen?’

  ‘Probably,’ Aldo replied. He kept news of the ledger’s recovery to himself; the fewer people who knew about that, the better. With any luck, the incriminating page would still be inside it, and legible enough for Dante to read. ‘Is there anything else in the letter that might help?’ Ruth shook her head. ‘Do you know why your uncle was in Bologna?’

  ‘He needed coin for a new client, a sum far beyond anything he’d ever loaned before. A small fortune, my father called it. In the past, the two of them shared the risk when making a large loan. This would have been many times greater than any loan they’d made before. Yet when Samuele left Bologna, he chose not to take the coin my father had ready.’

  So there was no robbery. Aldo had suspected as much. Certainly the satchels Levi clung to all the way back from Bologna had shown no sign or sound of being filled with coin. But that absence, the fact Levi had chosen not to make the loan, could well be the reason why he was stabbed and left to die. ‘This man of importance – does Rebecca know who it is?’

  ‘No, I don’t believe so. My uncle refused to let her be any part of his business, even though he insisted on debtors coming here to the house.’ Ruth leaned closer. ‘Something else in her father’s letter is troubling Rebecca. He
forbade her from being with Joshua Forzoni. I’m not sure my cousin knows her own heart yet, whether or not she truly loves this Joshua. He certainly seems to love her. But your father’s last wish is a hard thing to break.’

  Aldo was still pondering what to report when Campana ushered him into Alessandro’s officio at Palazzo Medici. Accusing the Duke of any involvement with Levi’s murder was madness, but there had to be a way of proving what happened. Aldo was surprised to find Alessandro alone behind his desk. There were guards flanking the room’s entrance as usual, but the absence of Lorenzino offered an opening, a chance to discover at least some of the truth. ‘Your Grace,’ Aldo began, ‘my investigation has uncovered something important. I believe the moneylender was killed not for being Jewish, but because he’d been drawn into a plot against you. It seems someone arranged to borrow a large amount from Levi for that purpose.’

  Alessandro sighed, showing no surprise at this revelation. ‘Conspiracies are all too common in this city. They seem to follow the name Medici wherever we go. Our dear cousin has been talking about little else for several days now.’

  ‘I was also sceptical at first,’ Aldo agreed, moving nearer the desk. ‘But it is possible the plotters planned to use the loan to pay for men at arms, mercenaries who would lead this attempt to overthrow you. It seems Levi discovered the true purpose of the loan he’d agreed to make, and refused to go ahead with the arrangement.’

  ‘So the plotters killed him?’

  ‘That is one possibility. But my investigation leads me to suspect another hand in this matter. One rather closer to you than Your Grace might realize.’ Aldo took a breath before commencing his denunzia – and heard the doors swing open behind him. Lorenzino strolled past a moment later as another person entered the officio, closing the doors after them. The new arrival strode by Aldo to join the Duke’s cousin by the desk: Scoronconcolo.

  Aldo studied Lorenzino’s servant, assessing the man he’d only seen once before, across the courtyard of the palazzo. Scoronconcolo was heavyset, but that bulk was solid, nothing weak or flabby about him. Two piercing eyes glared at Aldo from either side of that hooked nose, above a cruel mouth. He stood like a soldier, ready to fight, to kill if needed. Aldo had met such men before. They knew how to wield a blade, and never hesitated to do so when necessary. This was the man who had stabbed Samuele Levi.

  ‘Ahh, cousin,’ Alessandro said, smiling at Lorenzino. ‘You’ve arrived at a most vital moment. This officer from the Otto –’ the Duke stopped to look across the desk – ‘Sorry, what was your name again?’

  ‘Cesare Aldo, Your Grace.’

  ‘That’s it! Yes, Aldo here was about to tell us the names of those responsible for the murder of the unfortunate moneylender.’

  Lorenzino narrowed his eyes at Aldo. ‘Were you? How interesting.’

  ‘So, who is it then?’ Alessandro asked, his face beaming. ‘Anyone I know?’

  Aldo opened his mouth to reply but all he could hear was roaring in his ears. It was obvious the Duke had no knowledge of Scoronconcolo’s involvement, nor it seemed that his own cousin had sent the servant to confront Levi. To accuse either man now would be asking for a knife in the back. ‘Sorry, Your Grace, but I’m still waiting on one last piece of evidence before I make a denunzia against those responsible.’

  ‘How disappointing,’ Lorenzino said, a sneer twisting his pallid features.

  ‘Indeed,’ the Duke agreed. ‘We had rather hoped for an end to this matter. You may go.’

  Aldo nodded, withdrawing to the double doors. He should leave now without saying anything further. That was the safe choice, the wiser choice. But the chance to witness how Lorenzino and his servant responded could not be resisted. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace.’

  ‘Yes?’ the Duke said.

  ‘I told you yesterday about a ledger taken from the moneylender’s home by his killer. I’m happy to say that ledger has been found.’

  Lorenzino’s expression remained the same, but Scoronconcolo lacked his master’s experience of courtly intrigues. His eyes widened before darting sideways to Lorenzino.

  ‘It seems the killer attempted to destroy the evidence by burning it,’ Aldo continued. ‘Happily, another hand removed the ledger from the flames before the damage was too great. The surviving pages are being translated from Hebrew to see what they reveal. I should have more answers for you tomorrow.’ Aldo bowed to the Duke and left the officio.

  Before, he’d been all but sure; now he was certain: Scoronconcolo murdered Levi, acting on orders from Lorenzino. What were they willing to do to conceal their crime?

  The bells announcing curfew had long fallen silent when Aldo returned to via dei Giudei. He took an erratic route south from Palazzo Medici, stopping and listening in case anyone was following him, but saw and heard nobody. This investigation was playing tricks on him but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Having goaded Lorenzino and his murderous servant, it was wise not to bring that trouble on someone else.

  Aldo knocked at Dante’s house. He slipped inside as soon as the door opened, closing it behind him. He followed Dante through the house, the acrid aroma of the charred ledger leaving no doubt where it was. The blackened book lay open on a table, candles and lanterns clustered round it to light the smudged pages. ‘Have you found anything yet?’

  Dante slumped into a chair by the table, exhaustion etched in his sad face. ‘Perhaps,’ he replied, looking through the remnants. ‘The flames did more damage than I first thought.’

  Aldo stepped closer. ‘Show me what you’ve found.’

  Dante pointed to a particular line of Hebrew. ‘This entry here stood out. The amount is twenty times larger than any sum Samuele and I ever lent out as partners.’

  That sounded like the loan for which Levi had sought to share the risk with his brother in Bologna. A small fortune, Ruth said. ‘Are there any other entries with loans close to that amount? Had any debtors recently been borrowing more and more?’

  ‘No. I’ve checked before and after. This was a single loan, sought by a new debtor.’

  Aldo’s blood was quickened, and so was his breathing. Every part of him clenched. ‘Who’s the debtor?’

  ‘There’s no name here, just three letters.’

  ‘Is it a code? Did Levi usually disguise the names of his debtors?’

  ‘No, this is exceptional. I think he was trying to protect himself or the debtor, in case somebody else should see inside the ledger.’

  That made sense if the debtor was this man of importance Levi had mentioned in his last letter to Rebecca. ‘What are the three letters?’

  Dante frowned. ‘I think they’re initials – they would likely translate as L, D and M.’

  Aldo swallowed hard, his mouth and throat gone dry. Only one person involved with the investigation had a name to match those initials. If that person had tried to borrow a small fortune from Levi, it could mean only one thing.

  Lorenzino de’ Medici was plotting to overthrow his cousin, the Duke of Florence.

  And Lorenzino knew Aldo had the evidence that could prove it.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Friday, January 5th

  Aldo knew what happened to those who went too long without sleep. He had seen it in men broken by battle, cursed to live the same bloody moments over and over again in dreams. Such men would do anything, take any apothecary’s concoction to avoid sleep. They became ever more erratic, their actions without reason. It was much the same with suspects deprived of rest to encourage a confession: they did talk, but made little sense. Finally – mercifully in some cases – those who went long enough without sleep succumbed to madness or death.

  Aldo had no wish to do the same, but the tangle of questions in his head refused to be silent. After a second night of staring into the darkness, he abandoned sleep and sat up to think things through. What could he prove, and what did he suspect?

  What at first had seemed a simple stabbing was now far more complicated. It began when Lorenzino de
’ Medici arranged to borrow a small fortune from Levi to pay mercenaries to overthrow the Duke. Levi even hired a guard from the Otto to protect him on the road back from Bologna because he expected to be carrying that same fortune. But the moneylender changed his mind while away from Florence, and brought no coin back in his satchels.

  Lorenzino sent his servant Scoronconcolo to Levi’s home after curfew on Monday night to collect. When Levi refused to make the loan, Scoronconcolo stabbed him. Then the servant took the ledger, fearful that his master’s name might be inside, and left Levi to die.

  But if all that was true, why was Lorenzino so eager to see the killing investigated? Why insist the murder be solved by the feast of Epiphany? He was part of – perhaps even the leader of – a conspiracy to overthrow the Duke, but the plotters had been left without the coin to execute their plan. Did Lorenzino warn his cousin about the plot to try and conceal his own involvement? But he must know this stratagemma could only hide the truth for so long.

  Another question nagged Aldo. Did the younger Medici have the palle to lead an uprising against his cousin? He acted the fawning sycophant well, yet appeared restless in the Duke’s company – like a horse tugging at the bridle, waiting for a chance to throw its rider. Lorenzino had been swallowing his ambition for years, playing a dutiful cousin even when the Duke ruled against him. Was it the dispute where Alessandro had ruled against Lorenzino’s family that had planted the seed of hatred in the younger Medici’s heart? For now, the motivations behind the plot didn’t matter. If Lorenzino truly believed himself capable of toppling the Duke, he would seek a way to do so.

  But how, and when?

  Aldo opened the shutters at his window. Dawn was close. Vitelli and the ducal guard would be back in the city within a day or two of Epiphany. Whatever Lorenzino planned, it would happen before then. But the conspirators had no coin or mercenaries, and a direct strike against Alessandro would not be simple. The Duke kept two guards alongside him wherever he went. That was one lesson Alessandro had learned well from past Medici.