by Robyn Young
‘You say you saved Djem? That men came for him that night? Yet I left Bertoldo and a dozen guards here when I went to Rome, none of whom reported seeing any intruders, only that my study had been broken into and you were missing.’
Jack described the events of that night: how Amelot had let him out and had given him the blood-covered plan of the palazzo, the six men he’d seen descending the stairs and those who had come for the prince at the Fig, killed in the fight with his men. ‘The city watch will verify what happened at the tavern,’ he added.
‘Two different companies?’
Jack nodded. ‘The men I saw here were speaking an Italian dialect. The others – Prince Djem said they were assassins, sent by his brother, Sultan Bayezid.’
‘The plan of the palace? Where did the girl find it?’
Lorenzo listened closely as Jack spoke of the man in the mask. He didn’t have all the facts, since Amelot had not been able to give them, but he’d been able to glean enough to put some of the pieces together. ‘Amelot took it from his lodgings,’ Jack finished. ‘In the hostelry where he was staying. The watch found the body of another man there.’
‘And this masked man is the same one you spoke of when you first arrived – the one you say was in England searching for the map on Pope Sixtus’s orders? The man who killed your mother?’
Jack fought to hide his emotions. All this time, since he’d followed Amelot across the city, his father’s sword in his hand, he had been hunting for his enemy. But the only place he’d found him was the flame-wreathed landscape of his dreams. His frustration – being so close yet denied the chance to face his mother’s killer – burned in him; a flame that wouldn’t go out. He nodded tightly, realising he hadn’t answered.
Lorenzo was watching him intently. ‘What I cannot fathom is how these men you say you saw simply entered my palace then vanished, leaving no trace?’
‘I can only think by the same way we left – the roof.’ Jack heard the doubt in his own tone, just as he saw it in Lorenzo’s face. It had been difficult enough to make the tricky descent with Amelot’s surefooted guidance; he couldn’t imagine six armed men being able to accomplish it in the dark, not without being seen or heard. But it was the only explanation he had. ‘Bayezid’s assassins must have then followed us from here to the Fig.’ Jack could tell Lorenzo was wrestling with whether or not to believe him, but he could see other thoughts forming behind the man’s eyes, his gaze narrowing on the gold curtain that covered the door. ‘You have a sense, signore? Of who these men were?’
‘If what you say is true, then my guess is they were sent by Pope Innocent.’
Jack had wondered this himself; thinking back over the conversation he’d overheard between Lorenzo and Marsilio, talking about the prince – a prize for the pope – the signore’s unexpected departure for Rome that had left the palazzo deserted, and the appearance of the masked killer who’d been in the pay of Sixtus. But it was still a surprise to hear the suspicion spoken out loud. He nodded, waiting for Lorenzo to continue.
Lorenzo pressed his fingertips together. ‘Sir Anthony Woodville is recruited by your father into the Academy. He betrays us, revealing our plans to Sixtus, who sends agents to London to seek the map from the Trinity. You tell me their leader died there, but one, this masked man, returns to Rome? Perhaps he tells Innocent what he knows? Innocent later recruits him, and others, to retrieve the prince. They must have discovered Djem was in my custody by hunting down those I paid to take him from his prison in France. That would perhaps explain the murders here. Fra Marsilio was right,’ he muttered. ‘I should have seen the connection. Been more wary.’
‘What took you to Rome, signore? I heard a rumour it was something to do with Pico? That he was banished for it?’
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. ‘A book he wrote found its way into the hands of the pontiff. Innocent found it – objectionable. Enough to demand the change in location for our children’s betrothal. He would not say how he obtained it. I thought at the time Pico had just been careless in its publication. But I presume, now, that this was part of a larger plan, to remove me from the palace that the prince might be taken.’
‘If His Holiness is somehow against you, why would he have agreed to the betrothal? Surely there would have been other ways to summon you to Rome?’
‘Innocent plays a long game, as do I. Both of us stand to gain, through our sons, access to the influence and power of the other. He would not want to relinquish that. Not even for Prince Djem.’
‘What would the Holy Father want with the Turk?’
‘A new crusade. Around two years ago, Innocent entered into negotiations with the Knights of St John to take the prince into papal custody. Djem has intimate knowledge of his brother, Sultan Bayezid, and his armies, of the Turks’ strongholds and terrain. If he could be turned to the side of Christendom, he would be the perfect weapon in a war against the Ottoman Empire. He is also a useful tool for bribery. The Knights of St John forced Bayezid to pay a substantial annual ransom to keep Djem incarcerated. You see, then, why the sultan would want his brother dead. His assassins have tried in the past. My guess is Bayezid had spies in the papal court. They could have discovered Innocent was making his move. Followed his men here.’
Jack was nodding. This all made sense from the little Djem, himself, had been persuaded to tell him. ‘And why do you want him, signore? Not a crusade? Or money, surely?’
‘Where is the prince, James?’
The change of tack caught Jack off guard, but he recovered quickly. ‘I will tell you, signore, when you give me what I came for. I want to know – all of it. The Academy? Its aims and purpose? The map I guarded for my father? Amaury de la Croix said you believed it showed Atlantis. The land you call New Eden? Amaury, my father, me – we risked so much to secure it for you. Amelot was tortured for it. My mother died because of it. Yet when I told you the map was in King Henry’s possession you seemed to lose interest in it?’ The questions, pent up inside him all this time, were tumbling out of him. ‘Things my father said, about Muslims not being the true enemy? Amaury spoke of corruption in the Church, yet it seems two popes now have moved against you. So much of what the priest told me in Paris sounded like heresy. I do not know who I should trust. My past, my birthright – my faith, signore. All of it is shaken, uncertain. My father told me to come here, that I would find my answers in you. That you would point the way. And so, I ask you, who was my father? Was he a good man? Or was he not? I need to know the truth.’
Lorenzo held his gaze for a long moment. ‘Truth? You think it a fixed point? A target you can aim at? Surely you see by now, James, that truth is fluid, changeable? That it means different things to different men, at different times?’
‘Then what is your truth? Now?’
Lorenzo sat back, arms resting on the chair. ‘When he was a young man, my grandfather, Cosimo de’ Medici, was sent by his father to a council at Constance in the company of Pope John, one of three rival claimants to the papal throne in the schism that followed the Avignon papacy: the council’s intent to heal this split in the heart of Christendom and choose one successor to take the throne of St Peter. It was a period of adversity, of poverty and war in the west, but my family had worked hard and, by then, were the bankers for Pope John.
‘During his time at the council my grandfather saw, first-hand, the rifts in the Church and the sins of the men who served it. John, whose past was mired by piracy and violence, was a notorious drunk with a weakness for women. My grandfather told me he found himself, having been filled with pride at the task his father set him, disillusioned with the world and questioning his own faith. There, in Constance, he met a man who, like himself, had studied humanism. Sharing a passion for the philosophies of the Greeks and Romans, and the poetry of Petrarch, who sought to reinvigorate those ancient worlds, they became friends.
‘Before they parted ways, this man gave my grandfather a copy of a text called the Emerald Tablet. It was through this that m
y grandfather first discovered Hermes Trismegistus – Hermes the Thrice Great – who was said to have written it. The Emerald Tablet taught my grandfather that earth and heaven are not separate, but so ineffably linked that what occurs in one affects the other. As above, so below. It is one of the primary tenets of Hermeticism, the teachings of Hermes himself, which my grandfather set out to discover and explore, spurred by a sense that by divining the past he might come to better understand the present. That, perhaps, there were other ways of seeing the world and our place within it, beyond the impaired walls of the Church.’
Jack was reluctant to interrupt when Lorenzo was speaking so openly, but neither did he want to be left in the dark again at the end of this. ‘I understood Hermes to be a Greek god, the patron of thieves. But Amaury spoke of him as a messenger. As . . .’ He fought to recall the priest’s words. ‘As a bridge between this world and the next?’
‘He wears many guises. Mage and prophet, sorcerer and priest. We, in the Academy, see him as the first philosopher; keeper of the arcane knowledge of the world. My grandfather founded the Academy to hunt down, translate and interpret that knowledge that we, too, might learn the secrets of the ancients: secrets of long life and health, death and rebirth, the stars and the tides, the worldly and the divine. The more texts he and his hunters found, the more they came to see that Plato’s belief in a World Soul – a soul that connects us all – was right. That a single, perfect theology exists with roots in every belief and that, through it, all mankind could once again be united under God, as once we were.’
‘You believe that? Even after what the infidel . . .?’ Jack paused. The reflex of that word no longer felt right after being in the company of Prince Djem; the man’s dignity and quiet authority, his honour, paid in respect to them all, but especially David after Adam’s death in his defence. Jack had been surprised when the prince, whom he expected to have to chain up until Lorenzo’s return, had not only consented to remain in his custody, but maintained his calm even when Jack admitted he was planning to return him to his gaoler. Following the attempt on his life by his brother’s assassins, Djem seemed to have become resigned to his fate. Jack had wondered whether he’d become inured to captivity – at ease, even, with the safety of four walls and his escape into the books they brought him, which had been his only demand. ‘After what the Turks have done to us?’
‘There was a Greek scholar, who, shortly after the fall of Constantinople, in the horrors of which he himself lost family, declared that were a man to unite Christians and Muslims in faith, his praises would be sung by all of earth and heaven. It was a thought shared by my grandfather. War, he believed, narrows and limits man’s potential. Rather, he saw the future in the expansion of shared understanding and commerce. Trade, he always said, brings mankind together and casts glory upon those who venture into it.’ Lorenzo gave a half-smile as if in memory and took a sip of wine. ‘Hundreds of years of hatred, however, will not be erased overnight. Both sides are ignorant, intolerant, unable to see the invisible cords that bind us, unwilling to admit we are all brothers, sprung from the same womb.’
‘My father knew all this? Believed this?’ Jack shook his head. ‘But it is heresy.’
‘Heresy to a tradition which has itself become corrupt. Me, your father, Marsilio, Pico, Amaury; we are all Christians in faith, James. But we see the limitations of a singular doctrine.’
‘The God we all worship, no matter the language of our prayers or the traditions of our ancestors is one and the same? Amaury said that,’ Jack explained to Lorenzo’s surprise.
‘When he was set in charge of King Edward’s son, I asked your father to teach the boy our values and ideas. We planted others in the courts of the west that we might advance our aims from within the fabric of each nation.’
‘What are your aims though? I still don’t fully understand.’
Lorenzo arched a sardonic eyebrow, lifted his hand towards the gilded ceiling. ‘Perhaps, if you spent the years my grandfather and I have reading the thousands of manuscripts in our library . . .’ He sighed. ‘In its simplest form? Faith without war. Trade without boundaries.’
‘And Prince Djem? If Pope Innocent wants to use him for a crusade, why do you want him?’
‘He has not said?’
‘He will speak little of his life.’
‘Well, he is a proud man and his story one of humiliation. When their father, Sultan Mehmet, died six years ago, without naming a successor, Djem and his half-brother, Bayezid, vied for the sultanate. Bayezid believed that as the elder of the two he was rightful heir to the caliphate, but Djem claimed his right as the son who was born after his father had ascended the throne. Allegiances were split and war broke out. Djem won an early victory, but that was overturned by Bayezid and the prince was forced to flee to Cairo, where the Mamluk Sultan supplied him with men and arms. The following year, buoyed up by support from Egypt and allies in Anatolia, Djem made another attempt on the throne. Once again, he failed to break his brother’s hold on the caliphate and, separated from his army and surrounded by enemies, he fled in the only direction still open to him – the sea.
‘In disguise, he took a boat to Rhodes, where he asked the Knights of St John for protection. There, he made the knights a promise – a permanent peace, between Christendom and the Ottoman Empire, between Christianity and Islam – if they would help him claim the throne. The knights told him they would consider, but instead they informed Bayezid that they had his brother in their custody and offered to keep him there in return for a ransom. Bayezid agreed, Djem was retained as a prisoner and the knights were paid, handsomely.
‘Later, Bayezid sent assassins to Rhodes in an attempt to remove the threat posed by his brother and end his payments to the knights. They failed and Djem was moved to France. That was when I first learned of his incarceration and of his offer of peace to the knights, who by then were in negotiations with Innocent for his transfer to Rome. I paid mercenaries to extract Djem and bring him here to me. I have spent the time since trying to gain his trust – not easily won after the knights’ deception. Nor,’ Lorenzo added ruefully, ‘my own incarceration of him. Necessary though I felt it was, given his importance and those who were hunting him. I hoped, in time, he would prove a valuable ally. That, one day, I would help him take his place on the throne.’
‘Constantinople,’ murmured Jack, the knots all unravelling before him. Now, he understood why Lorenzo had called Djem the key to the future of his empire. With an ally on the Ottoman throne, he could secure the old roads to Cathay and the Spice Islands. The roads to the wealth of the world, closed to the west for over thirty years. ‘You wanted access to the trade routes?’
‘As I said – faith without war, trade without boundaries. A man cannot change the world, James, without first having some control over it.’
‘And New Eden?’
‘Through years of conflict, from petty skirmishes to ravaging wars, my grandfather dreamed of finding a safe haven where the men of the Academy – humanists like him – might kindle a new world from the embers of the old. After Sixtus authorised the attempt on my life, I knew I had to follow that dream, or risk losing everything my family had built over generations. When the astronomer Toscanelli told me he believed the crew of the Trinity had seen Atlantis we knew we had found it. What better place to build a new world than the land Plato himself had prophesied would return? The map may be lost to us, but now we know for certain there is land out there the dream need not be dead. If I make a deal with Djem – if I secure peace and trade with the east – I will be able to fund a fleet of ships to find it.’
‘Why did you banish Pico? Was he working against this plan?’
Lorenzo ran a finger around the rim of his goblet. ‘On the contrary, Pico was one of the most ardent supporters of our aims. His issue was I wasn’t moving fast enough. That is why he wrote that book. He wanted the world to know what was possible.’ His eyes hardened. ‘He did not know about Djem. Did not understand w
hy I wanted us to lie low until my plans had come to fruition. Marsilio advised me to wait, to keep the prince a secret until we knew what was possible. That was perhaps my greatest mistake,’ Lorenzo said quietly. ‘Not trusting them. If I had, Pico would not have gone against my orders and Poliziano would still . . .’ He trailed off. ‘I have given you your answers, James. You know everything your father knew. Now, it is your turn.’
Jack felt suddenly exhausted. He had made it to the heart of the maze and uncovered his father’s secrets. There was relief in that. But what had changed? His father was still gone and his mother’s death remained a splinter in his heart. Ned had been right. He really had been chasing ghosts. But there was something else now, he reminded himself. A new plan. A new hope. He just needed one thing to see it realised. ‘My money, signore?’
Lorenzo tapped a thoughtful finger on the table. ‘I am curious. When you have been compensated, what then?’
‘My men and I will leave. Start new lives.’ Jack’s heart thumped. He would not tell Lorenzo the truth here – that these new lives might be sought in the very place he himself was searching for. New Eden. He and Ned, and, later, Valentine, had talked through the possibility for weeks, until it had formed into a plan. None of them wanted to remain in this city. Not after what had happened at the Fig. When Lorenzo paid them, they would head west to Spain, seek out the sailor Amerigo Vespucci had spoken of. They had seen the map with their own eyes. There was value in their knowledge. The sense of direction, of purpose, had kindled a fire in Jack.
‘What if I had another task for you?’
‘Another task? After all—’ Jack stopped himself saying, I’ve done.
‘You saved my asset and have proven your honour by admitting your actions these past months. I see no reason in us not continuing to work together. I have two problems, both of which I believe you – perhaps you alone – can help me solve. First, Prince Djem must be held in a new location. I cannot keep him in the palace, not after what you’ve told me, and I’m unwilling to widen the circle of those who know of him. You and your men could guard him for me, somewhere secure. Somewhere I can continue to cement my alliance with him. You would be paid, of course. Second, much time and effort has been spent embedding you within the Court of Wolves. Why waste that now you are in their company?’