by Gian Bordin
She answered with a smile. "That’s what I like about you, Jacomo. You’re like me, not wasting time loafing around, when there’s so much to learn. I even have an idea of how to go about it. I’ve another Latin play that I want to translate into the vernacular, and while I translate, you learn Latin. You might even be able to help find the right expressions."
"Would you really let us?"
"Yes, … and now I race you."
The last word had not left her mouth when she already put the spurs lightly into the horse’s side, leaned forward, and shot off. This time, Jacomo seemed to have been ready. He was right at her heals and when they reached the end of the straight, he had edged himself alongside her, grinning happily.
While he stayed with the horses in Piazza Grande, she visited the office of the agent of the Sienese banking house Tolomei and paid for the two letters to be forwarded to their destination. Both letters would leave for Siena the following day, even the one for Piombino, since there was a regular courier service from there.
"And now, let’s find a tavern, one that has visitors from Siena, and have lunch and keep our ears open. Maybe we’ll get some news about Casa Sanguanero," she said as she mounted her horse again.
The Taverna al Prato, near the gate of the same name in the lower part of the town, was teaming, and Chiara nodded. Standing inside the entrance, she surveyed the patrons sitting at the half dozen long tables. When she heard the unmistakable Sienese tongue spoken at the nearest one, she asked, imitating Jacomo’s accent, as she remembered it when he joined them eighteen months ago: "Pious gentlemen, may I and my cousin join your esteemed company?"
She noticed Jacomo’s surprised look and winked with her left eye.
"A man of God is always welcome provided he’ll pray for the salvation of our souls. Please, join us, Padre," replied a portly man.
"Yes, Pietro, you need it, the way you’re cheating on your wife."
"You can talk, Luca. At least, I always say my prayers before I kiss a willing woman, and mind you, they’re always willing."
"If your prayer is from the heart, good man," said Chiara with a straight face, "then God surely will have mercy on your soul. But maybe you should say another one of thanks afterward too, just to be on the safe side."
For a moment there was a stunned silence around the table, and then everybody exploded in laughter.
"Particularly if you were able to get it up, Pietro," shouted a small fellow, sitting next to Chiara.
She turned to him, looking bewildered. "What do you mean? Get what up? Courage to kiss a willing woman? Pietro doesn’t look like a timid man to me. Anyway, there’s no sin in kissing."
He grinned, confused. She could see that he could not make out whether she was serious or joking, or simply naively innocent. He was just opening his mouth to reply, when Pietro shouted: "Franco, you better keep your trap shut. We don’t want you to corrupt this nice young priest with your vile language." He turned to her. "Padre, may I offer you some of our wine?"
"Gladly, provided it is a good drop," she replied, winking.
"It isn’t bad. It’s the best the house offers, the innkeeper claims. You aren’t from here, I notice from the way you talk."
"No, I’m from Cagli, on my way to Siena to present myself to my sponsor, the illustrious Signor Sanguanero. He offered to pay for my schooling at the university."
"Did you say Sanguanero?"
"Yes, Signor Niccolo Sanguanero. He is one of Siena’s richest merchants I’ve been told by a reliable source."
"Was, Padre, was. He has fallen on bad times."
"God forbid, what has happened? Has he fallen ill?"
"No, there’s nothing wrong with his health, except that maybe he isn’t quite right in his head, the way he was taken in. Rumors have it that he lost ten thousand florins in a gamble and now all his creditors are on his heels, wanting to be paid. It looks really bad. If he’s your sponsor, it looks really bad for you too, I’m sorry to say."
"But he would not renege on a pledge to God."
"Can you squeeze blood from a stone?"
"It isn’t beyond God’s ability to grant this power to one of his faithful servants. So, you think that Signor Sanguanero may have no money to spare to support my studies?"
"Padre, I’m afraid that this may well be so. He has creditors queueing up at his door. Casa Tolomei refuses to advance any more funds, and worst of all, he has his warehouses bulging with goods he rushed to buy, paying good money, or at least, promising to pay good money, and now will have to sell at a great loss. I wouldn’t be surprised, if Casa Sanguanero has to admit bankruptcy any day now."
"Oh what misery. What do you suggest I do? How can I survive in Siena without his support? Maybe I should rush to Siena and find out."
"If I may be so bold as to offer you advice, it may be best if you returned to your home. You said it was Cagli? If you hurry, you might even make it over the mountains before the snow closes the passes."
"Maybe your advice is wise." She feigned dejection.
"But right now, Padre, let me invite you to share our meal. It isn’t fancy, but good, healthy food."
"Messere, that’s very generous and kind of you. My cousin and I are very thankful and will pray for you."
Once outside the inn, she warned Jacomo to keep his merriment hidden inside himself until they were well beyond the city gate. They made several purchases, spices, salt, and a few staples they could not get in Chianciano, and then left the city.
"Oh Chiara, how could you say all these things with a straight face. ‘Maybe you should say a prayer of thanks afterward.’ I bet they’re still wondering whether you were joking or serious. It was priceless. ‘What do you mean? Get what up?’ I didn’t believe my ears." He let go of the laughter he had forcefully suppressed so far. "I can’t wait telling Pepe and Alda. And you even got them to give us a free meal."
"I must admit, I had fun. In fact, I had to be careful not to overdo it. But now we know that Casa Sanguanero is in trouble."
"I bet they must rue the day they brought you onto their ship."
She did not respond, wondering about herself, her motivation, the regret of having hurt Lucia, stirred up to new levels through her letter to the young woman. They rode along in silence.
"Chiara, did I say something wrong that you’re suddenly so quiet?"
"No, Jacomo."
After while, he asked: "Something is bothering you. I can see it."
"Yes, you’re right. Something is more than just bothering me."
"Are you willing to tell me … as a sister to a brother?"
She smiled at him. "I couldn’t asked for a better brother than you. Yes, I’ll tell you. On that boat, I took my revenge on the old Sanguanero. On the deathbed of my father, I vowed revenge for what they did to him. But now that I’ve made them pay again, I doubt that what I did was right. Oh, I don’t care about Niccolo or his father. But by punishing them, I also hurt other people, innocent people, people who have never shown anything but kindness toward me."
"Do you mean Lady Lucia?"
"Yes, you see that’s what I meant the other day when I told you not to try to become like me. Sometimes, I don’t understand myself. I don’t understand why that need for revenge is so strong that I’m willing to hurt innocent people."
"But Lady Lucia is a Sanguanero. She profited of your loss. Didn’t she wear your mother’s necklace?"
"She doesn’t know Niccolo stole it from me. She’s innocent. She’s not like her brother. She’s kind, warm; she’s a good woman. But there are also others. I disappointed Lady Maria and placed her into an awkward position. She has always been kind to me, and now I may have lost her trust. And what about the weavers who made the cloth Niccolo bought and who now might never get paid?"
"Please, Chiara, don’t blame yourself. You’re the kindest and most generous person I know. You only did what was just and right."
"Thank you, Jacomo, for your believe in me. Unfortunately, what’s
done is done. I have to live with it." But maybe what’s enough is enough. Maybe I should forget about getting back Elba.
* * *
With ample free time, Chiara got stuck into two projects, teaching Jacomo and Veronica Latin — to a point where they could read and translate it, not necessarily talk — and searching the little book of Latin poems for clues to that mystery treasure.
Since moving into Castello Gianbucca, she had opened it several times, searching for obvious clues. She knew that none of the poems contained any hints on or obtuse directions for finding a treasure. She had diligently checked the illustrations, page by page, for anything that could have been interpreted as a map. There was nothing, just picture of faces, human figures, saints with halos, flowers, trees, all kinds of animals, ferocious tigers with open mouths, snakes, insects, frogs on lily pads, little naked cherubs in clouds, the occasional abstract geometrical design. She had poured over those with particular care, to no avail.
One November afternoon, everybody, including Pepe, was sitting in front of Castello Gianbucca, soaking in the sun which had lost much of its power. Alda was wrapped in a soft blanket. Her cheeks looked rosy.
"Don’t you know that little book by heart, pictures and all?" she asked.
"Yes, I do."
"So why are you still looking through it with such an intense obstinacy? Granted, the pictures are cute, but —"
"Yes, I wondered too," interjected Jacomo. "Are you searching for something?" He knelt at her side. "That’s the little book you recovered from Sanguanero’s office. I’m still amazed that you would risk being caught just to get that book, since you have another copy of the poems anyway."
"That book was mine, but that’s not the real reason I wanted it back. My father said, just before he died, that it holds the key to a treasure. What treasure, I don’t know. He was too weak to talk and I didn’t want to press him. But I know that Massimo Sanguanero arranged for my betrothal to Niccolo in part to gain possession of that treasure."
"A treasure? Gold, precious stones?"
"I don’t know. All I know is that when my father heard that Sanguanero had the book, he said: "And now they will even desecrate that." So, maybe it’s a religious treasure."
"And you haven’t been able to find the key to the mystery, have you?"
"No."
"May I have a look?"
"Here, take it."
He sat on the ground next to her and started leafing through the thin tome. "Funny pictures."
Veronica came and knelt next to him. "What are they? Love poems? Is that the reason for all the little cupids?"
"Yes, they are almost on every page, at least for the first half. Could that be a sign or clue?" mused Jacomo. "The arrows might be pointers to something."
"You could be right," exclaimed Chiara.
"But how?" He pointed at an arrow. "It just points into the text. It could be any of a dozen words. And this arrow here points to the margin."
"If the cupids are the key, then there would be some that are simply there to confuse. Maybe, the word — but it could be a letter — is the one where the lines extending from two arrows cross each other."
He smiled. "Yes, Chiara, that could be it. Shall we try a few?"
"Start at the beginning."
There was no cupid on the first page. The next two pages each had one at opposite margins. The lines extending from the arrows did not cross each other over any text.
"No luck here," murmured Jacomo.
"If I were to use a scheme like this, I wouldn’t use it right from the start either. What’s on the next page?"
There were three cupids. Two lines intersected over nothing, while another pair crossed over the word ‘claudo’.
"That means ‘chiuso’ in the vernacular, doesn’t it?"
"Yes."
They looked at each other, questioning.
"Do you think the same as I? Chiusi, the town two leagues east?"
He nodded and turned the page.
"So that treasure could in fact be in this area and not on Elba or on the coast of Tuscany. What a coincidence!" she mused.
The following page showed only one cherub, peeking out cheekily from the left side of a church tower. He had no bow and arrow, but was holding his right hand as if to shade his face.
"What could that mean? That the treasure is hidden in a church tower, or next to a church tower?"
"Or that one has to climb a church tower in Chiusi for a new clue," ventured Veronica.
The cupid on the next page was aiming its arrow straight at the heart of a woman.
"I can’t make any sense of that," said Jacomo.
"The poem talks about a woman in love, so it might just be one inserted to confuse."
They found three cupids over the page, the arrows of two of them met over the word ‘tubineus’.
"Tubineus means cone shaped."
"So from the church tower one can see something cone shaped … a mountain or a hill?"
"Probably. This cupid," she pointed at the third and would have said ‘its arrow looks to seven o’clock’ had clocks with an hour dial existed at that time, "could maybe tell us where to find the mountain or hill."
"Roughly southwest?"
"Provided north means straight up," added Veronica.
Chiara nodded.
They could not make any sense over the next few pages. One of the cupids pointed a wavy arrow down to the left
"That’s a strange one. Another one to confuse?" remarked Jacomo.
The only arrow on the following two pages was broken.
"This one too?" he asked.
"Maybe, maybe not. It could mean something, like a bend in a road or path. Go to the previous page again."
He turned the page. "That’s the wavy one. Could it mean water?"
"A creek or river?"
"Yes, and the direction of the arrow could mean, flowing in a southwesterly direction."
On the following page, a round chubby face could be seen peeking out from behind one of three poplars.
"This could be another one to confuse, because it actually refers to a scene of lovers hidden in the shade of a clump of poplars, except that the artist drew three trees in a straight line, not a clump. A very clever way to disguise a message, if it is one."
"And the message could be that there are somewhere three poplars in a straight line, and if we put it together with the previous page, possibly near the kink in the water course."
"I think you are right, Jacomo."
There were again several pages of mystery, but then they came across two arrows that met over the Latin word "shatter" of the line "whilst thou shatter my heart, O cruel fate," while a little cherub was peeking over a house, partially hidden in bushes, on the opposite margin.
"If we put ‘shatter’ and ‘house’ together it could mean a ruin —"
"— hidden in bushes."
"Oh, you two are so clever," cried Veronica.
"Yes, our little brother is clever enough to become a priest —"
"A priest?" protested Jacomo. "Not me, never!"
"— or a lawyer. Law is a highly respected profession and can make you a lot of money, Jacomo."
"I would never be admitted to study law."
"I wouldn’t be so sure about that. All you need is the right sponsor, somebody like Count d’Appiano, and the professors would accept you without question."
"Oh, Jacomo, I’d be so proud of you. My brother a lawyer!"
"Chiara, it isn’t fair of you to put such ideas into his head," reproached Alda.
"Alda, it’s not beyond him if he wants it. Maybe even Casa da Narni might do as sponsor. All he needs is being able to write and speak Latin."
"You really think so, Chiara?" His voice had assumed a wistful tone.
"Yes, Jacomo, I’m serious."
19
End of November, Chianciano 1349
Alda had recovered from pneumonia, and I made sure that it stayed that way by pampering
her. Two or three times a week, whenever the weather was reasonable, we went bathing in a hot pool, only a few minutes walk from the secluded little mansion where we expected to spend the coming winter in comfort and peace, becoming ever more a close family.
Veronica and Jacomo were as eager as I had been to learn Latin. We had fun translating Amphitruo by Plautus. And most important of all, I finally began deciphering the mystery of the treasure, ably supported by Jacomo and Veronica. In fact, Jacomo often made the connections that led us slowly but surely to pinpoint the general area of its likely location. When I first heard about that treasure, I had always figured that it was on our land on Elba. What a surprise to discover that it was almost under our noses. It was as if destiny had ordained that Alda was to get sick and force us to stay in this very part of Tuscany to find that treasure.
You will not be surprised that Jacomo and I could hardly wait to scout out the area, hoping that this might help us make sense of the few, but crucial links that had escaped us so far. To say that we literally stumbled on its location is no exaggeration. It was a day of excitement and success, and then, before it was over, disaster struck. My past, the curse of the Baglione vendetta, had caught up with me.
Opting to go to Rome, had not our reason been precisely to get out of their reach? If destiny had ordained by Alda’s illness to keep us in Tuscany and thereby find the treasure, had the encounter with the Baglione not also been ordained? Would God be so twisted as to ordain both jubilation and a fight to the death? I was not a believer in destiny, but rather in coincidences, and that day only served to harden that believe.
* * *
It took the three young people another two long sessions, before they managed to decipher most pages. There were in fact quite a few they were sure had been put in specifically to confuse. Others, they were less sure of, particularly the four close to the beginning. Chiara had this strange feeling that they were crucial — the missing link between Chiusi and the ruin — but their meaning eluded them. Intense excitement alternated with frustration, only to erupt in jubilation when they made another breakthrough. At times, they let their imagination go wild and laughed a lot.