by D. V. Bishop
‘Now he’s leader of Florence and its Dominion – a remarkable turn of events.’
Maria smiled. ‘Cosimo won’t forget your part in all of this.’ She leaned closer to whisper in Aldo’s ear. ‘And your secret is safe with me.’
‘And your secret is also safe with me,’ he replied.
‘My secret?’
‘That while Lorenzino and his servants were murdering Alessandro, you were in the rooms directly above. You must have heard the Duke cry out for help, yet you did nothing.’ She stepped back. ‘I’m sure you had nothing to do with the murder,’ Aldo continued. ‘It was mere chance, a quirk of happenstance that you were so close by when the Duke was killed, leading to Cosimo – your son – replacing him. But there may be some who do not believe in such things as coincidence. Not in Florence.’
Maria saw him with new eyes, how ruthless he could be.
Aldo smiled. ‘As I said, your secret is safe with me.’ He glanced down at her hand, and she took it away, stepping aside to let him pass.
The officio was emptier than Aldo remembered, the walls where rich tapestries had hung now bare. No doubt that was a result of the looting Campana mentioned as Aldo arrived at the palazzo, but perhaps Cosimo had welcomed the chance to sweep away past excesses. Alessandro’s grand desk was gone, replaced by something plainer and far less ornate.
Cosimo was wearing none of the silks and satins favoured by the dead Duke, opting for simple robes without ornamentation. The new leader of Florence stood at a window, staring out at the city that was now his to command, while Aldo described the encounter with Lorenzino. By the time Aldo finished his report, the last of the powders were wearing off, pain creeping into his voice and posture. Cosimo noticed the change.
‘Is something troubling you?’ he asked.
‘It was a long ride back, and my shoulder is still sore from a recent injury.’
‘I trust you can rest after this.’
‘I hope so.’
‘And what of Filippo Strozzi?’ Cosimo stared out a window at the city. ‘You said he was on his way to Bologna. Do you believe Strozzi plans a strike against Florence?’
‘Perhaps. The death of Alessandro offers exiles like him a chance to reclaim the city.’
‘True, but raising an army takes time,’ Cosimo said, ‘not to mention considerable funds. And winter is no season for launching an assault against a fortified city.’
‘Your father taught you well,’ Aldo observed.
The young man smiled. He gestured to a jug of wine on a table. ‘Will you drink with me? To celebrate your return, and the success of your journey.’
‘Thank you, but there are other matters I must attend before this day is done.’
Cosimo nodded his understanding. There was something else in his eyes – sadness, perhaps? To become leader of a city in such brisk circumstances would daunt any person of sense. Aldo did not doubt that Cosimo’s mother had done everything she could to prepare her boy for this day, but he was less than eighteen, still becoming a man in many ways. Ruling Florence could be the making of Cosimo de’ Medici – or the breaking of him.
Only time would reveal which awaited the city and its new leader. Aldo departed the officio, mustering what strength and will he had left for what lay ahead.
By the time Aldo reached the Podestà all relief from the powders was gone. Tired and sore to the bone, he found Strocchi and took him to Bindi’s officio. The segretario was preparing to leave for the night, but agreed to hear their report, if brief – the shorter the better. Aldo wasted no time revealing Lorenzino’s proud confession to murdering the Duke.
‘Of course this matter will need to come before the Otto,’ Bindi said, ‘but that may take weeks, even months. If need be, Lorenzino and any complice can be judged in their absence. But it might be wise to let things settle first.’ Knowing Bindi, it would be a private hearing. An official record would be kept, of course, because justice must be properly administered. But the citizens did not need to know. So be it.
Aldo bowed to the segretario on the way out, Strocchi following his example. As ever, Bindi had to have the final word. ‘Good work, both of you. It’s a shame you couldn’t bring Lorenzino back to face the Otto himself, but there could still be a reward for this.’
‘The segretario didn’t ask about Levi’s murderer,’ Strocchi said as he and Aldo walked down the steps to the courtyard. ‘He only wanted to know who killed Alessandro. He never even mentioned the other moneylender.’
‘The killing of a Duke is important,’ Aldo replied. ‘The stabbing of two Jews matters far less to Bindi. I was only investigating Levi’s death because Alessandro demanded it.’ A familiar figure was lurking at the bottom of the stairs: Cerchi. Aldo stopped. ‘You must be hungry. Go get something to eat. I’ll see you at via dei Giudei by nightfall.’
Strocchi went on, nodding to Cerchi. Aldo waited till the constable was gone. He couldn’t avoid this any longer, but there was no need for Strocchi to witness it.
Rebecca stepped from the house as dusk approached. Victory over Sciarra had been sweet, and the coin she took from him would make her choice of path easier. She strolled along via dei Giudei to the doctor’s home. The door was open as usual, a murmur of voices drawing her to the back room. Orvieto was lighting a lantern while Joshua cleaned the doctor’s knives.
‘Good, you’re here,’ Orvieto said. ‘Joshua has been applying himself well, we might make a healer of him yet.’ The doctor leaned closer to her. ‘Now is as good a time as any.’
Rebecca nodded, maintaining her smile despite a flutter of fear in her belly. Joshua wiped the last blade clean and placed it on the table by the others, before smiling at her with those beautiful warm brown eyes. ‘Joshua, there’s something I’ve wanted to say—’
‘But you haven’t had the chance,’ he interrupted, taking her hands in his. ‘We’ve hardly had a moment for us in days.’ Joshua glanced at Orvieto watching them across the room.
‘Don’t mind me,’ the doctor said, turning away to grind herbs with a pestle.
‘But now seems the right time,’ Rebecca began. ‘I think we should—’
‘Be my wife.’
‘What?’
‘Be my wife,’ Joshua repeated. ‘I want you to marry me.’
Rebecca couldn’t speak for the roaring in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. No sound, nothing.
‘I know it’s too soon after your father’s death,’ Joshua continued, pacing back and forth in front of her. ‘I know what people will say about us, but I don’t care. I love you.’ Still no words escaped her. ‘All I need to know is that you want the same.’ He stopped to look at her with those warm, brown eyes, those beautiful eyes. ‘Well?’
Rebecca couldn’t hold back her feelings any longer. ‘Yes,’ she gasped, bursting into tears of joy. ‘Yes, I will marry you, Joshua. That’s what I’ve decided too, that’s what I came here to say. I want to be with you. I want to be your wife.’
‘You look tired,’ Cerchi said, his expression triumphant. ‘Exhausted. Beaten.’
Aldo rubbed his right shoulder to ease the swollen joint. They were near the well in the centre of the Podestà. A few guards wandered the edges of the courtyard but were out of hearing. ‘If you’ve something to say, spit it out. I have a murderer to arrest tonight.’
‘That will have to wait.’ A smirk curled Cerchi’s thin lips. ‘There was always something about you that bothered me, but I never knew what it was – until now.’
‘Is it that I’m smarter than you, or a better officer than you’ll ever be?’
‘Enjoy your clever remarks while you can. From tonight you’ll never sneer at me again. Not unless you wish to be revealed for what you are – a pervert. A buggerone.’
‘Accusing a man without proof is a dangerous game.’
‘I’m not playing,’ Cerchi hissed. ‘I have all the evidence I need, Aldo. Perverts like you and Corsini are a sickness that should be cut out of t
his city. Using other men or playing the woman for pleasure. You disgust me.’
Aldo had always known this day would come. But did it have to be Cerchi? ‘What evidence? Have you beaten and tortured some poor soul into lying for you?’
Cerchi grinned, and Aldo knew all hope was lost. ‘I didn’t need to torture or beat anyone. They both made a denunzia against you of their own free will.’
One denunzia could be denied. But two – that was proof in the eyes of the law. Aldo’s stomach was churning, threatening to empty itself. He needed to know who had accused him. Could Renato have succumbed to threats to protect himself? It was possible. But who else? There weren’t that many who knew for certain what kind of man Aldo was. Robustelli would never break that confidence, but one of her women might say something without grasping its significance. To demand the names of his accusers would be seen as an admission of guilt. Better to maintain the pretence, and search for a way to escape this noose. Worry about who had signed the denunzie afterwards, assuming there was an afterwards. ‘If you have the evidence you claim, why not take it to Bindi? Why haven’t you arrested me?’
‘I almost did a few days ago, but Lorenzino got you sent to Le Stinche before I could. No sooner were you released from prison than you got sent out into the Dominion. But your absence gave me time to consider, to think of a different stratagemma. I will arrest you one day, Cesare Aldo, but not yet. Instead, you’re going to work for me. From this day you will give me half of every reward you earn, half of every bribe you take, and half of everything you make. You’re mine now – and so are all the whores at that place you call home.’ Aldo swallowed hard, mouth too dry even to moisten his lips. ‘Don’t think you can steal the denunzie from me,’ Cerchi said. ‘I’ve learned my lesson, after what happened with that diary. The denunzie are with someone you don’t know. Challenge or threaten me in any way, and those documents will be given to the Otto. When the magistrates read them, you’ll be hung from the gates, your body set on fire, and your ashes hurled into the Arno. That’s what the likes of you deserve. But before that happens, I’m going to make your life a misery – and you’re going to make me rich. Starting tonight.’
‘Tonight?’
‘I want my first payment.’ Cerchi folded his arms, full of self-importance. ‘It needn’t be much. Just all the coin you have, and everything those whores earned today. Bring it to me on Ponte Vecchio, after dark – and come alone. I don’t think you want Strocchi or anyone else knowing what kind of man you truly are, do you?’
Aldo hesitated before shaking his head.
‘Ponte Vecchio.’ Cerchi swaggered away. ‘Don’t make me wait.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Joshua ran home to fetch his late grandmother’s ring, leaving Rebecca with Dr Orvieto. He came to her, concern in his kind face. ‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. After being so unhappy for so long, to know such joy – it was making her head dizzy. Her legs seemed close to collapse, but Orvieto got her to a chair in time. He crouched in front of her, taking both hands in his. ‘I made my mind up on Monday, but I wanted to be sure before saying anything. And I wanted to wait until I finished sitting shiva, out of respect for Father.’
The doctor nodded. ‘You didn’t wish to break with his wishes while mourning him.’
Rebecca frowned. ‘What I’m doing, is it wrong? Am I being selfish?’
‘It may sound harsh, but your father is dead and gone. This is your life now. You must decide what is best for you. I saw how happy you were when Joshua asked you to marry him. This is the right path for you. He’s a good man with a good heart. He would do anything to protect you.’
‘I know.’
Time passed yet Joshua didn’t return. Had he changed his mind? It seemed unlikely, but anything was possible. Marrying him had seemed out of all question a few days ago, and now . . . The sound of footsteps approaching quelled Rebecca’s fear. She stood to face him, but it wasn’t Joshua in the doorway.
‘Cesare? You look terrible,’ Orvieto said. He was right, the officer seemed spent, pain and worry etched in his face. The doctor helped him to a chair.
‘I’ve brought something for you,’ Aldo said, pulling a letter from his tunic. Rebecca realized it was for her. ‘From your cousin in Bologna.’
She took the letter, reading it while Orvieto tended to Aldo. Her cousin was worried about Rebecca being alone in Florence. Ruth had spoken with her father and convinced him that Rebecca should move to Bologna and learn to run the family moneylending business alongside Ruth. Shimon was more than ready to step aside. Together the two cousins could make a success of things, Ruth felt certain of that – if it was what Rebecca wanted.
She would have to write back to Ruth with her own news. There would be no new life in Bologna, not when a life of happiness with Joshua was beckoning.
Aldo rose from the chair. He wanted to tell Saul about the Cerchi’s threat, to seek counsel, but that wasn’t possible with Levi’s daughter there. Instead he’d have to put an end to all the questions about what had happened ten nights ago. It was past time for that.
‘When I was guarding Samuele on the road back from Bologna,’ Aldo began, ‘I asked who wanted him dead – but he wouldn’t say. When we got back here to Florence, Samuele insisted he was safe inside the city – but he was murdered a few hours later. That happened not long after he argued with you, Rebecca. Dante witnessed you leaving the house.’
‘I didn’t see him,’ she said, confusion on her face.
Orvieto put an arm round her shoulders. ‘You were probably upset.’
‘Dante had hired bandits to kill Samuele on the road from Bologna,’ Aldo continued, ‘but they failed. Dante was relieved to discover Samuele had made it back alive.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘He told me that, and how sorry he was for what he’d done.’
‘After you told Joshua about the argument, he chose to confront Samuele. Joshua saw a man carrying your father’s ledger away, and then found Samuele’s body inside the house.’
‘That’s when he stepped in Father’s blood.’
‘Yes,’ Aldo agreed, ‘but the man who stole the ledger didn’t murder Samuele. I believe Samuele was already dead or dying when the intruder entered your home. I didn’t realize that for a long time, and my mistake had me chasing the wrong men for days.’
‘If the thief didn’t kill Samuele, who did?’ Orvieto asked.
Aldo paced the room to keep his weary legs moving. ‘Before I could answer that, there were other questions that needed asking. For a start, who had a reason to kill Samuele? Who had the opportunity to murder him, and who gained from his death? Rebecca, you were angry at your father – but you were with Joshua’s family when Samuele was murdered.’
‘I could never have killed Father,’ she said. ‘You should be talking to Aaron Sciarra. He hated Father and coveted his business. Sciarra stands to gain from Father’s murder.’
‘Yes, he does, and he had reason to kill your father – but Sciarra lacks the courage. And there’s another reason why Sciarra wasn’t the killer: whoever murdered Samuele had considerable skill with a blade.’ Aldo stopped, staring at the knives laid out on the table.
Rebecca laughed. ‘You can’t think Dr Orvieto had anything to do with it.’
Aldo looked at him. ‘No. Saul fights to save lives, not to take them.’
‘Besides, I was tending to Moise Bassano all that night, so . . .’ Orvieto’s face fell. He must have realized what was coming. ‘Cesare, stop. You need not go any further with this.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Aldo replied. ‘Truly, I am.’
‘Sorry about what?’ Rebecca asked.
Orvieto came to Aldo, anxiety in his eyes. ‘Let me take Rebecca home before you say anything else. Please, she doesn’t need to be a witness to this.’
Joshua burst into the room, carrying a silver ring. ‘Sorry I took so long,’ he gasped between breaths. ‘I co
uldn’t find it, until one of my sisters reminded me—’ He stopped, everyone staring at him. ‘Is something wrong?’ Aldo went round Orvieto to face Joshua.
‘Tell me, what happened the night that Samuele was murdered?’
‘I-I’ve already said. Rebecca came to see me, upset about an argument with her father, the hurtful things he’d said. I went to talk with him, but when I got there—’
‘Samuele was already dead.’
‘Yes.’ Joshua appeared innocent, but there was a tremble in his voice.
‘I don’t believe you,’ Aldo said. ‘Samuele was already spoiling for a fight when you arrived to confront him. There was an argument, it got out of hand – and you stabbed him. Maybe you didn’t mean to, maybe it was an accident. You panicked and fled from the house. It was after curfew, so nobody saw. But then you remembered the knife. Was it one you had borrowed from here, or one you always carried? Either way, you realized that the knife would betray you, so you went back for it. That’s when you saw the thief leaving with the ledger.’
‘This is . . .’ Joshua spluttered, turning to Rebecca. ‘You can’t think . . .’
‘You went back inside to get the blade,’ Aldo continued. ‘That’s when you stepped in Samuele’s blood. What happened to the knife, Joshua? Did you throw it in the river?’
Orvieto was staring at the blades on the table, unable to look at his student. ‘You told me you’d lost it.’
Joshua knelt down in front of Rebecca, taking her hands in his own. ‘They’re wrong. You know that, don’t you? I could never hurt anyone you love. You have to believe that.’
She didn’t speak, perhaps she couldn’t speak. Aldo doubted he would know what to say if he was in her place. Joshua stood, twisting round to face Aldo.
‘It was an accident, I swear it. I never meant to hurt Samuele. I stopped here on my way to confront him, hoping Dr Orvieto would talk me out of it – but he was elsewhere, busy with a patient I suppose.’ Joshua went to the table covered in blades. ‘The knife was to make Samuele see sense, that’s all. But he came at me and—’