‘Saint Matthew was a tax collector and he is said to protect those who deal with accounts. That is why Felipe feels an affinity with him.’
‘I see,’ I replied carefully.
The Maestro reached out and put a hand on each side of my head. ‘You are an honourable boy, Matteo,’ he said. ‘When the time comes, I know that you will find your way to the truth.’ He spread his fingers across my face, encircling my eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
‘Matteo,’ he repeated again – my name that was not my name.
Chapter Seventy-One
I BROKERED MOST of the gifts I had brought Elisabetta to obtain two horses for her and Felipe.
We made good speed on our journey back down the Via Emilia. Felipe was a competent rider and Elisabetta did not complain, though she tumbled exhausted from her horse when we stopped to rest on the first night.
I had set a hard pace for there was a reason I wanted to reach this particular place. In the early dawn I got up and roused Stefano. I told him that there was a matter I had to attend to and that he was in charge of the others until I returned.
We were in the countryside where my grandmother had died and I wanted to find the stream near where I had buried her box. Even after the passage of years I could do this for I had marked the spot with distinctive boulders.
I uncovered the rocks and scraped away the earth.
There it lay, made of oak wood, bound round and tied tightly with corded rope. Inside were her pestle and bowl and spoons and small sieves for preparing infusions. I heard them rattle as I lifted up the box. I knew that also wrapped up inside, in a waterproof covering, were her recipe book and other papers. The box was scarcely a foot and a half square and weighed not more than a ten pounds. What had seemed a large load for a nine-year-old boy I now lifted easily and slung across the pommel of my saddle.
As I gave the box to Elisabetta a terrible sadness came over me. ‘Wait until you reach your new home before you open it,’ I requested. I felt embarrassed at my obvious show of grief in front of her who had suffered so much in comparison to me. ‘This is my grandmother’s legacy and I gift it to you. Her tools to make herbal remedies and pills, and most importantly her recipe book. You might try to make these and sell them.’
‘Ah, Matteo,’ she replied. ‘I see now the reason you bade me bring those cuttings and seeds from my herbarium.’
I gave Felipe all the money I had to cover the cost of Elisabetta’s keep and promised to send more as soon as I could. Then I delegated Stefano and his brother Silvio, our latest recruit, to escort Felipe and Elisabetta through the hills to Florence. ‘Do not worry about Elisabetta,’ said Felipe. ‘My friends have no living children of their own. They will not turn her out.’
It was time to say farewell.
Felipe took my hand. ‘Stay out of the way of cannonballs if you can, Matteo.’
Elisabetta was inclined to cry but she set her chin and did not.
‘I will write to you when I am settled,’ she said. ‘If I can earn any money I will find my own place and make it a home for you and Paolo. Bring him safe to me, if you can, Matteo.’
PART SEVEN
THE MEDICI SEAL
Ferrara and Florence, 1512
Chapter Seventy-Two
ON MY RETURN to Ferrara there was a banquet to celebrate the recent successes of the new French commander, Gaston de Foix.
Lucrezia Borgia, who had recovered her health after her miscarriage, was back in the castello organizing a meal of one hundred courses. It was to last from sunset to sunrise the next day, and was deemed an act of defiance against the new papal alliance, the so-called Holy League. And also, as Charles observed shrewdly, to show the French how important their presence was to the city and the duchy.
More than one room was set aside for this banquet, with trestle tables erected to cater for the large number of guests. These were covered with white and gold cloth and bedecked in greenery and red ribbon to celebrate the new year. Servants ran constantly between the kitchens and the tables, bringing food, and bowls of water and little towels to rinse one’s fingers. Between each batch of courses the ladies rose from the table to attend to their toilet or stroll in the courtyards or along the terraces. The gentlemen escorted them, or assembled in groups to discuss the war and politics. It was still cold but musicians were placed in open tents in the garden to entertain those who chose to venture outside. During these breaks I went from room to room, and in and out of the apartments seeking to find one lady.
It was past midnight when eventually, from one of the windows, I saw Eleanora d’Alciato walking in the company of two other ladies. I signalled to Charles and hustled him with me along a parallel way so that we would intercept them in their path.
We pretended great surprise when we met up. We exchanged courtesies, then Charles graciously took the two other ladies in charge, one on each arm, and walked them ahead of us.
Now I was alone with Eleanora.
I offered her my arm. She took it.
After my initial action to engineer our meeting I did not know what to do. Should I speak first? What should I say? I looked ahead to where Charles was chatting easily with his ladies. A comment on the weather perhaps? I cleared my throat.
‘So now, Messer Matteo’ – Eleanora spoke before I could begin – ‘do tell me how you came to hide under the skirts of a nun in a convent garden?’
When I had first seen her in Ferrara I thought that at some time she might ask me this question so I had my story ready for her. ‘I had been visiting some friends in the country,’ I said, ‘and was set upon by ruffians as I rode back to Milan.’
‘How strange,’ she said. ‘Though he is known as a ruthless man, I wouldn’t have thought that Jacopo de’ Medici would wait to ambush an unwary traveller.’
‘Nor do I,’ I said smoothly. ‘It is perhaps that he saw me fleeing and my attackers asked him for help in pursuing me by making up some lie to say that I had robbed them.’
‘And had you?’
‘Of course not!’
She regarded me thoughtfully.
‘You saw that I carried no goods upon me,’ I said. Then I added for mischief, ‘Not even a weapon.’
She smiled at that, and said, ‘That is true. Yet, I sense that you have not told me all of the story.’
‘You have not told me all of yours,’ I countered. ‘How it is that you are at the court of Ferrara yet you know such a person as Jacopo de’ Medici?’
‘He visited my father’s house in Florence once. I was much smaller, only a child, which is why he would not recognize me.’
We had come to a fork in the path. Charles had turned towards the castello. I hesitated and then gently pressed her arm to guide her in the opposite direction.
She glanced back but allowed herself to be led away. ‘I must not be gone too long, else my absence will be noticed.’
We walked a little more. We came to a fountain. The water supply had been turned off for the winter, and the puddle of water left in the bottom of the bowl was frozen. She sat down on the ledge and touched the ice with her fingers and shivered. I had the urge to put my arms around her, to warm her by holding her close to me.
She asked me about Leonardo da Vinci. ‘My father took me to the Church of the Annunciation in Florence when the Leonardo cartoon of the Virgin and Saint Anne was displayed there.’ She put her head to one side. ‘You have known him. Is it true that he made the symbols of the Three in One in this painting?’
‘He does not say what is in his paintings,’ I replied. ‘We can but guess.’
‘His circle of love between the figures was unique,’ said Eleanora. ‘Many artists came to look at it and learn. He is a genius.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He is.’
‘Do you wish to become an artist?’
‘Oh no. I had thought at one time I might be a doctor.’
‘They say that Leonardo da Vinci dissected bodies in the darkness of the night to seek the source o
f the soul?’
‘He dissected corpses in order to discover how it is that the human body functions.’
‘You were there!’
She was quick. I saw that with her one would have to keep one’s mind alert.
‘And is that why you wish to become a doctor, Matteo?’ she went on. ‘Because you gained insight into the workings of the body?’
As I considered my reply it occurred to me that by this conversation I was gaining insight into her mind. An illumination as to who Eleanora d’Alciato was, and how she thought.
‘When the Maestro, da Vinci, investigated the internal organs he would always discuss with me their function, and how they could be impaired by accident or disease. And then we would discourse on how they might be repaired. For a time I studied under the direction of a friend of his, who has since died. Professor Marcantonio della Torre, who lectured at the medical school in the university at Pavia.’
‘There is a famous library at Pavia,’ she said. ‘Is it as wondrous as its reputation?’
‘It is. I read some of the books there.’
‘I would love to see it!’ Her eyes were bright. ‘My father educated me himself and he had an extensive library. I studied Aristotle and Petrarch, and have read Dante too. But my father’s books were sold to pay his debts when he passed away.’ She sighed. ‘A double loss to bear: I loved him and his books so well.’
‘How is it that you are now at the court of Ferrara?’ I asked her.
‘When my father died penniless my uncle took me in. It was very generous of him for he already has four daughters of his own. They are young, but soon it will be time for him to marry them off, so he wants me settled quickly. After my father’s funeral he arranged for me to marry a respectable Florentine merchant. This man had half a dozen children by his three previous wives who died. My uncle believed I would be grateful. The man, although older, had some money and my uncle thought that caring for the children would take my mind off the loss of my father. I was unsure and upset and said I could not undertake such a thing at that time. I went to the convent where my aunt is the abbess and she gave me shelter. But I was not suited to the monastic life so the abbess wrote to Duke Alfonso, who is a relative of hers, and he granted me leave to come here for a while.’ She stood up. ‘And now I must go back to the house. The next course will have begun and I am seated within sight of the duchess. She will wonder where I am.’
She moved to pass me but I stepped to block her way and she was against me and I could not resist touching her face with my hand.
Her skin was soft and she put her hand over mine and placed it along her cheek.
‘Eleanora,’ I whispered.
The sound of the serving bell came to us across the night air.
‘I must go in,’ she said.
Chapter Seventy-Three
WHILE I HAD been in Milan the French army had begun a series of successful campaigns to recapture the smaller towns around Ferrara.
Gaston de Foix reminded me of another commander that I had watched operate in the Romagna years ago. The townspeople had no time to prepare for his attacks. His method of swift travel to arrive at a place and fall upon his unsuspecting enemy was similar to Cesare Borgia’s way of operating. For this type of campaign the Bande Rosse was in demand to support the main force. Our men were known to be well equipped and properly trained in the arms we bore.
But the sacking of the towns troubled me. This was not the chasing out of armed soldiers as it had been in Bologna. It was the abuse of citizens. Paolo had a way of ignoring facts, of blinding himself to things he did not wish to deal with. As he had done by selling the farm and not foreseeing the consequences for his sister, so he was set on continuing with his goal of seeking revenge against the armies of the Pope, not seeing that it would be for always, battle after battle, never ending.
When we got back to Ferrara after the latest brief campaign there were letters awaiting us from Felipe and Elisabetta.
Elisabetta wrote to say that the house in Prato, where she was now staying, had a garden. Felipe’s friends were an old couple, quite frail, glad of her company and help in the house. They had allowed her the freedom to plant any herbs she chose. Already she had secured an agreement with an apothecary in Florence. When the plants began to flower in the spring she intended to open my grandmother’s books and prepare recipes of her own.
Felipe had successfully completed his business in Florence and had managed to secure a safe conduct back to Milan and was now at Vaprio with the Maestro.
In the spring the French held a war council. They proposed to attack Ravenna. It was the last big fortified city in the Romagna under Vatican rule, and an apostolic seat.
‘The Pope will not allow Ravenna to fall,’ said Paolo. ‘If Ravenna is taken then it wipes him out in the Romagna.’
‘Therefore by attacking Ravenna,’ said Charles, ‘Gaston de Foix will force the papal armies to engage. And that way we could have an end to this taking of towns, losing them and retaking them again.’
So it was decided. The French and the Ferrarese would muster every man and weapon to bring an end to this conflict.
Before we left to undertake the siege of Ravenna the Duchess Lucrezia commissioned a fanciful pageant to show the successes of the French led by the splendid de Foix. It involved moving structures, with players dressed as soldiers posturing about a huge stage set up in the main piazza.
Donna Lucrezia sat at the front to watch the spectacle. The evening was long, and she and her ladies came and went during scene changes. At one of these breaks I contrived to speak to Eleanora in the courtyard of the church that was being used as a rest room for the women.
‘I came to say goodbye,’ I called softly as she walked with another woman through the doorway.
Eleanora stopped and looked round. Her companion saw me first. She was a young girl with a mischievous face. She put her finger to her lips and pushed Eleanora towards me. I drew her into the shadows of the cloister.
‘Tomorrow the Bande Rosse leave for Ravenna,’ I said. ‘I wanted to speak with you before I left.’
‘Why?’ she demanded.
‘Because—’ I stopped and looked at her more closely. She seemed angry. ‘Have I offended you in some way?’ I asked her.
‘Answer the question I asked you first, sir,’ she snapped.
‘I have a deep feeling for you and I wished to see you and hear your voice again before I left Ferrara.’
‘And have you no consideration for my feelings?’
‘It is my consideration for you that brings me here to this cloister tonight.’
‘If that were true then you would not go to war again. Why do you remain with the Bande Rosse?’ she asked. ‘If you recall, we had a conversation to the effect that you were not suited to being a soldier.’
‘I have an obligation to the Captain Paolo dell’Orte,’ I replied. ‘He believes that the Papacy brought about the ruin of his family and I am contracted by honour to help him fight to avenge this wrong.’
‘Did you not discharge this duty when you took Bologna? The Pope’s Legate has been driven out of the most important city in the Romagna. This is enough surely? Do you not think that you might conduct your own life as you wish?’
I had thought of this. The doctor at Bologna, Claudio Ridolfi, had indicated to me that if I shared more of my remedies with him he might gain me a place in his medical school. And now that Elisabetta would transcribe my grandmother’s recipes this might be possible. But Paolo had signed us on for another term of duty, and Elisabetta had charged me with bringing him safe home to her.
‘It is complicated,’ I said to Eleanora. I could not explain the debt I felt I owed the dell’Orte family. I could not tell her of my shameful part in their downfall.
‘The Pope will not give up Ravenna easily. He is sending every soldier he can spare to help them. If you go to Ravenna, Matteo, you will die.’
‘I have told you of my obligations,’ I said. ‘
What else can I do?’
‘Take responsibility for your own destiny,’ she replied with spirit. ‘A man can do this while a woman cannot.’
I cupped my hands around her throat and drew her to me. She stood very still. I could see a tiny freckle at the side of her eyebrow, the downy hair on her temple, each silken strand separately. Her top lip quivered.
I put my mouth on hers, top lip to top lip, bottom lip on bottom lip. But I did not press my lips against hers. I waited. I let her breathing mingle with mine, until I felt her quicken, and her breath begin to come in little pants.
Then I kissed her. And she allowed me to do this.
As we separated I said, ‘I will come back for you.’
Her eyes cleared and then focused.
‘And I may or may not be here,’ she replied.
Chapter Seventy-Four
I THOUGHT THAT she might not come to watch us ride away.
But when I looked up to the battlements as we passed through the gates of the city the next day, I saw Eleanora standing there with the rest of the ladies. I raised my gloved hand to my helmet in a salute and was rewarded with a flutter of lilac and pale green ribbons.
Charles also saw this movement and rode beside me as we left the city gate and headed south to cross the river.
‘Lilac and green ribbons,’ he said. ‘Would that be the colours of Eleanora d’Alciato?’
I felt my colour heighten.
‘Be careful, Matteo.’
‘How so?’
‘I know you, my friend. You do not dally and make sport of love. With you it is all or nothing. I would not see you hurt.’
‘Why are you saying that?’ I said in annoyance. ‘She is not like other court ladies who play with men’s affections.’
‘Of course she is not,’ Charles soothed me. ‘But whereas a woman can give her love to whomsoever she chooses, the matter of a marriage contract is not hers to decide.’
‘A marriage contract! There is no marriage contract prepared for Eleanora.’
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