‘That friar of whom you spoke,’ said Mondino, without turning to face him, and continuing to walk on. ‘I think I know who he is. If I’m not mistaken his cousin is the master builder in charge of the works at the new basilica of San Giacomo Maggiore, in Via San Donato.’
‘Father Francesco.’ Gerardo said his name with contempt. ‘I tried calling on him yesterday, but he had been taken to the monastery infirmary and they wouldn’t let me see him.’
They were crossing Piazza Maggiore, passing the Podestà’s offices. On their right were some houses that for some time there had been talk of demolishing to build a huge basilica dedicated to San Petronio.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Mondino.
‘He suffers from a scrotal hernia, as far as I could understand. It’s rather too bland a punishment for his particular sins. I wanted to talk to you about that too.’
‘About his hernia?’ Mondino stopped and looked at him with an expression that was anything but benevolent.
Gerardo gathered up his courage. ‘Well,’ he answered in a low voice, so as not to be heard by the passers-by and the pedlars who thronged the piazza. ‘I was thinking that a visit by a great physician such as you might be a good way of getting to him and making him talk. He might know something important about Angelo da Piczano. And maybe even about Philomena too.’
‘You were thinking!’ the physician burst out. ‘And who are you to tell me what to do?’
Gerardo looked around him and saw that a few people had turned to look at them.
‘We’re attracting attention,’ he said, with a conciliatory smile for the benefit of the curious. ‘All right, if you don’t want to help me, I’ll find another way of speaking to that degenerate priest.’
Mondino moved on, Gerardo followed him and after a few yards no one took any more notice of them. They got to the other side of the piazza and turned into the fishmonger’s street, first passing the silk market and Cornacchina tower on their right. Only then did the physician turn to look at him briefly. ‘The idea of the visit is a good one,’ he said. He no longer seemed annoyed.
‘So you’ll go?’ asked Gerardo. The smell of rotten fish coming from the corner behind the rows of stalls was so strong that he felt he could almost see it.
‘Yes. But first there are more important things to talk about. Have you heard about the other templar who’s been killed?’ Gerardo jumped. ‘Another? no, I hadn’t.’ outside one of the city’s most famous fish-shops, the physician paused to pay his respects to the wife of one of the Lambertazzis with a courteous bow. She was an eccentric lady who went to the market herself to check up on the servants while they were doing the shopping. Then he told Gerardo all about Wilhelm von Trier’s death and the fact that he had managed to examine the cadaver before the Inquisitors, purloining a map full of alchemical symbols. ‘A map? of what?’
‘I don’t know yet. We can talk about that later, when I show it to you. I’ve been carrying it on me since yesterday, expecting to see you. The main thing is that our assassin has produced another victim. The German’s body has been seen by quite a few people, and the fact that it had a piece of iron where the heart should have been is on everyone’s lips.’ ‘Had his hands been amputated too?’
‘No. But he had a bloody cross carved into his face. Does that mean anything to you?’
‘Nothing, apart from the fact that these murders seem to want to communicate something specific. The hands, the cross, the heart of iron... They’re all symbols. But of what?’
‘When we know that,’ replied Mondino, darkly, ‘Perhaps we shall also know who the murderer is.’
A woodcutter, bent beneath the weight of a stack that was too big for his shoulders, came between them. Gerardo walked round him and joined Mondino in front of a bakery, from which the smell of bread and spices wafted. He was convinced that their disjointed conversation, held in the commotion of the crowded street, was the result of pique on the part of the physician because he had not turned up to their meeting.
‘Master,’ he began, ‘It’s not wise to discuss these things in public.’
‘On the contrary,’ replied Mondino, who continued walking a step ahead of him. ‘We would attract more attention if we went to confabulate in a tavern.’
Gerardo did not agree, but he preferred not to insist. Mondino was highly strung and it was better not to provoke him, above all because Gerardo wanted to ask him a favour. They turned into a quieter side street, and not much further on entered a large well-kept courtyard, where there was only the metallic sound of a file to be heard.
Gerardo took advantage of the relative peace to take up their conversation again. ‘So you think he was attacked by surprise?’ he asked.
Mondino nodded. ‘When I examined him, I saw that like your friend Angelo he had a bruise on the back of his head. This is the second murder committed in this way, and tells us something about the perpetrator.’
‘You mean to say that it must be someone who is physically strong?’
‘Exactly,’ replied the physician. His aggravation at having been anticipated was obvious, and Gerardo had to stop himself from smiling. ‘Quite strong, but certainly astute enough to convince his victims to trust him to the point of letting him enter their lodgings.’
The sound of the file came from a cutler’s workshop, where a boy in a leather apron was sitting on the entrance steps sharpening a knife. As soon as he saw them he ran in and a moment later a man who seemed to be his father came out. He was holding a fork with a thin handle and two points ending in hooks, like the ones that surgeons use to lift the edges of skin and muscle during an operation. ‘It has been ready since yesterday, Master,’ was all he said. Mondino examined it with a satisfied expression, paid without bargaining and turned back towards the street. They walked out of the courtyard, passing two women carrying baskets full of dirty clothes on their heads, and Mondino made as if to go home, but Gerardo took his arm to hold him back.
‘Master, I have a favour to ask of you.’
‘Another? Haven’t I done you enough favours?’
Gerardo was silent for a moment, his head bowed, while the physician asked him what he wanted.
‘As I told you, I went to a banker to ask for a loan, but he wants two guarantors. He’s got one already, the other ...’
‘Will have to be me,’ concluded Mondino.
‘I know that it’s an inconvenient thing to ask of you, but I don’t know who else to turn to,’ admitted Gerardo. ‘I promise you will be taking no risk at all, I have the means to honour my obligation.’
‘Where does this banker live?’ asked Mondino, brusquely.
‘Not far from here,’ Gerardo replied, immediately. ‘If it were possible, it would be best to go now, before his offices close.’
A servant knocked and put his head around the door, announcing that Gerardo da Castelbretone had arrived with a guarantor for the loan. Remigio Sensi nodded and told him to go straight to the gentleman he had spoken of, requesting him to come as quickly as possible. Then he dismissed the servant with a wave of the hand and went back to speaking to the client sitting in front of him.
‘Everything is ready, Messer. My daughter has the documents here ready to sign.’
The client, a corpulent landed proprietor from Casalecchio, read the documents attentively, following every line with his finger. Then he took the quill that the banker was holding out to him, dipped it in the ink and signed the bottom of each page. ‘Very good,’ said Remigio, happy that the affair had been concluded. He handed over the money. The man made a brief bow to him and to Fiamma and went down to join the escort that awaited him in the street. Immediately afterwards Remigio ordered the two servants to close the window hatch that opened on to the arcade and to invite Gerardo and his surety to come inside.
When Gerardo introduced Mondino, Remigio pai
d him the compliment of saying that the great Mondino de Liuzzi had no need of introduction. Fiamma got to her feet and addressed a curtsey first to Mondino, then to Gerardo, placing one foot behind the other and slightly bending her knee. But while she had demurely dropped her head in front of the physician, with Gerardo she exchanged a glance that Remigio did not like at all.
‘There will be a short wait,’ said the banker to his guests. He struck a piece of steel on to the flintstone and lit three lamps, because with the shutter closed the office became dark even in broad daylight. ‘As for you, my girl, you may leave. I can manage these gentlemen alone.’
‘With your permission, I must finish the letter that you asked me to write this morning,’ responded Fiamma, firmly. ‘If I put it off any longer, it will mean that we will not have it ready to deliver this evening.’
That said she went quickly to sit down at the table, as though to close the discussion. She took a piece of parchment, dipped the pen in ink and began to transcribe the words of a rough copy on to parchment.
Remigio pursed his lips and addressed Mondino. ‘You must be a little bit patient, magister,’ he said. ‘I have sent for the second backer, but he will take a moment to get here.’
Gerardo burst out, suspiciously. ‘You have not betrayed me, have you, Messer Remigio?’
He slipped his hand quickly under his tunic and then looked at Fiamma. The banker had the feeling that it was only the presence of the girl that stopped Gerardo from pulling out a knife.
Remigio lifted both hands. ‘Calm down, calm down. I don’t know if I can speak ...’
‘The magister is abreast of everything that concerns my situation,’ replied Gerardo, still looking about him as though he feared the arrival of the Inquisition from one moment to the next. ‘You can talk freely in front of him.’
‘Just as well,’ approved Remigio. ‘Otherwise I would have had to ask you to advise him. I cannot accept a surety who is not aware of all the risks that he is taking on.’
‘Does the other man of whom you speak know all the risks?’ asked Gerardo.
‘Naturally. I have already told you that he is a Knight of the temple like yourself.’
Remigio indicated the seats covered with silk cushions and the three of them sat down. One of the lamps was on the table just next to Fiamma, to allow her to write with ease, and it lit up her face in full. Mondino scrutinised her with a professional eye.
‘A red-hot cautery,’ he said almost to himself, shaking his head. ‘Five or six years ago, to judge from the thickening of the tissue.’ then, turning to Remigio, ‘Was the cataract really bad enough to justify the use of the cautery on the child?’
The banker was about to reply, but Fiamma looked up from her writing and spoke first. ‘The cataract gave me terrible pain throughout the left side of my face,’ she explained, with a sombre look in which all the suffering she had gone through seemed to be concentrated. ‘The doctors said that cauterising it was the only cure that would guarantee recovery.’
Mondino shrugged. ‘As far as I’m concerned the cautery is a barbarous instrument that will soon be abandoned by science.’
‘And what do you use instead, magister?’ asked Remigio. He did not really want to know but he always tried to make his clients talk of their own work a bit. It was a thing that put them at their ease and made them feel secure, so that they relaxed and were more malleable. Mondino briefly explained that cauterisation was a difficult method requiring great skill. It was painful for the patient and unfortunately in many cases did not obtain the hoped-for result. Physicians still used it a great deal, but for the cataract he preferred to use a cure based principally on a warm dry diet, taken with compresses made of resin, cloves, cubeb and galangal.
‘Please excuse me,’ said Fiamma rising to her feet, as soon as the physician had finished. ‘I must go and check on the girls in the kitchen.’
She hurried out, making the wicks of the lamps oscillate, and Remigio was pleased that Mondino’s interest in her scar had achieved the purpose of making her leave the room. He felt he had to explain that the scar was a subject of great sensitivity for her. The two agreed without further comment. ‘Tell me at least the name of the man whom we are waiting for,’ Gerardo insisted, returning to the reason for their presence in the office.
‘His name is Hugues de Narbonne,’ replied Remigio. ‘He was Commander of the Vault of Acre, perhaps you have heard of him.’
Gerardo opened wide his eyes and mouth, without saying anything. He was the picture of surprise. Remigio almost felt sorry for him, and turned to close the lid of the safe so as not to look him in the face. The youth almost certainly believed that a man so high up in the templar hierarchy must be some kind of saint. He would discover to his cost how wrong he was. Hugues’ interest in him was certainly not dictated by generosity.
After Gerardo’s first visit, Remigio had informed Hugues de Narbonne straight away. That was the demand that the Frenchman had put before Remigio: to immediately make known to him every incognito visit by a Knight templar, above all those who had arrived in the city recently. When the banker had told Hugues that a templar had come to see him needing a loan because all his possessions had been destroyed in a fire, Hugues showed himself to be most interested. And he had instantly accepted to stand surety for the loan.
A servant appeared at the door and announced the arrival of the Frenchman. Remigio told him to show the man in and as soon as Hugues de Narbonne entered the office, he made the introductions in Latin, to respect formalities and because Hugues did not speak the vernacular. The matter of the loan was settled speedily, but in the absence of Fiamma it took longer to prepare the documents. While Remigio wrote, Hugues chatted animatedly with the other two. They spoke of castles and garrisons, of sea voyages and Arabic medicine, which Hugues maintained was more advanced than European medicine. To which Mondino responded, ‘Not for long.’
However, everyone paid due attention to reading and discussing the clauses of the contract, and at the end Remigio was less satisfied with the affair than he had foreseen. His dissatisfaction reached its peak when Gerardo asked if he might lend them a room so that they could talk privately for a short while. Mondino’s irritated expression at hearing those words did not escape Remigio. It was clear that this was something they had not discussed beforehand. In any case, he had no intention of complying with the request.
‘My house is not a public meeting place,’ he replied, curtly.
‘If you have to talk, go to a tavern.’
Gerardo and Mondino nodded and got to their feet, but Hugues de Narbonne stayed seated. ‘As you will appreciate, Messer Remigio,’ he said, with a cold smile, ‘We must be very careful with regard to what we say and to whom we say it. This young man has had a good idea. Your house is the only place in which we can be sure that we will not be betrayed.’ He laid a hand on the leather bag that he wore on his belt and took out some coins, which he threw nonchalantly on the table. ‘We will pay you for the inconvenience.’
Despite the retainers outside the door, Remigio did not dare throw him out, as he wanted to do. Hugues had already shown how dangerous it was to oppose him. Besides, granting the request could turn out to be useful. Remigio might be able to find out something that he could use against the Frenchman. And then perhaps he could rid himself of that scourge once and for all.
‘My office is at your service,’ he said, getting up without touching or even looking at the coins. ‘I will have wine and nuts brought for you, but don’t take too long. I have other business to conclude today.’
As soon as they were alone, Hugues de Narbonne excused himself for his bad manners, adding that unfortunately it was necessary. ‘I’ve known Messer Remigio for some time,’ he explained. ‘I know how to deal with him.’ then the Frenchman addressed Gerardo. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ Mondino looked at de Narbonne closely
. The sky-blue tunic, embroidered shirt and light wool stockings that he wore did not hide his animal nature. Whereas his clear eyes were most definitely not the obtuse eyes of an animal. On the contrary, they showed a menacing intelligence, always ready to take advantage of every situation.
Gerardo, on the other hand, did not seem to see anything of the sort. He was happy as a lark because of the attention shown him by such an influential personage, who in less difficult times for the templars wouldn’t even have deigned to speak to him. And without being asked, he said that he was worried about the impact that the recent strange murders in the city might have on the trial in progress.
‘Why are you speaking in the plural?’ asked Hugues, quickly. ‘As far as I’m aware, there has only been one murder.’ Mondino tried to warn Gerardo, but the young man went on regardless. He explained that there had been two murders: the first he had managed to hide because it had happened in his own house, but he hadn’t been able to do anything about the second. He wanted to find the assassin before the Inquisition and he wished to share the information he had with Hugues. Surely the Commander of the Vault of Acre would know things that a mere knight did not.
Of the whole rambling speech, Mondino was struck by only one thing: Gerardo had left him out entirely, not even mentioning the part he’d played in getting rid of Angelo da Piczano’s body. But he was very worried by the trust that the young man showed the Frenchman with the gelid eyes. For Mondino, unlike Gerardo, did not trust him at all. Their meeting at Remigio Sensi’s house seemed to him to be prearranged, and he was certain that Hugues de narbonne’s interest in Gerardo hid something more than the simple desire to help a confrère in a spot of trouble.
To prevent Gerardo mentioning the map, the only thing that came to mind was to anticipate him. Mondino said that he was the physician who had been to examine Wilhelm von Trier’s corpse on behalf of the comune, before the arrival of the Inquisitor.
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