'I'm sure he is, Ambrogio,' Cosimo snapped, staring away across the orange lagoon. Then he turned to Niccoli. 'I must go. I have no choice, but I do not expect you to come with me.'
'Cosimo, don't be absurd,' Niccoli said dismissively, and began to unload the bags from his horse. ? After a mile or two, the black shapes of the city began to rise out of the water. Venice looked as though it were on fire, the light from the sun setting behind them reflected off the old stone and glinted from a score of spires and crosses. Cosimo stood by the helm lost in thought. How terrible if he had wasted his time and alienated his father into the bargain. For all he knew their only contact in Venice, the strange Luigi whom Francesco Valiani had told them to seek out, could be dead, taken by plague. If that were so, how could they possibly find the missing section of the map and reach the monastery of Golem Korab?
They came ashore some distance from Piazza San Marco along a quiet stretch of canal that ran behind the Doge's palace. Their luggage was taken by servants, and a man in a long, fur-lined coat approached the quay. He was accompanied by four guards wearing burnished metal helmets and carrying pikes. The man introduced himself as Servo Zamboldi, personal assistant to the Doge. He bowed low but did not come close, nor did he shake hands with any of the travellers. Zamboldi escorted them along a narrow stone pathway running parallel to the canal and on into a courtyard.
The palace exuded a dull, mournful atmosphere. As they passed through a doorway, Zamboldi nodded to the guards and they snapped to attention. Ascending a great curved arc of marble staircase, Cosimo and his companions followed the Doge's personal assistant along a grand, galleried corridor. The walls were adored with rich tapestries and the floor of the corridor itself was inlaid with beautiful tiles of complex design; exquisite marble figures and sculptures of mythical beasts lined the corridor. This was Cosimo's first visit to Venice, and he had heard of its many splendours, but he was quite taken aback by the magnificence of the place.
Doge Michele Steno was a tall, muscular man now in his eighth decade. His face was narrow and deeply lined, his skin oyster-grey, long white hair hung to his shoulders beneath a blue velvet cap. He wore a long black and gold coat with gold buttons that ran from throat to ankle. Steno had been a much-honoured soldier and had become a powerful political figure who had dominated Venetian politics for more than a decade. Seated on a stone throne under a red canopy bearing the lion of Venice, he watched the visitors approach, and rose to greet them at the foot of the dais. But he was careful not to shake hands or embrace the new arrivals.
'Cosimo de' Medici,' he said, fixing the young man with his steel grey eyes. 'You have the bearing and dignity of your illustrious father. That is good.'
Cosimo smiled and bowed before introducing his friends. The Doge had met Niccolo Niccoli on more than one occasion.
'I was aware, of course, that you were coming,' said the Doge.
'So I understand,' Cosimo replied, glancing at Ambrogio.
'But you obviously have no intention of obeying your father's wishes. Your journey must be a matter of great importance.'
'It is,' Cosimo replied simply. 'And we are most grateful for your hospitality.'
'Don't assume anything, young man,' the Doge replied softly. 'We may wish to offer you our finest, but you have arrived at a very bad time.' His face was grave. 'The Great Pestilence is every bit as fierce as I remember when I was a young man, almost half a century ago. I learned this evening that more than a thousand souls have perished. We have tried everything: aromatic oils, ringing all the church bells in the republic and firing every available cannon at the arsenal; all to no avail.'
'I am sorry to hear of your plight, my Lord. And our business here will be as brief as possible. Indeed, we wish to travel on to Ragusa at the earliest opportunity.' 'Ragusa?' The Doge held Cosimo's gaze for a moment and then he looked away. 'You and your companions are most welcome. Rooms have been prepared for you in the palace. I will help you with whatever you need to make your stay as comfortable as possible and I'll have my people arrange a ship for you. But we are as you find us. I do not need to remind you that for your own well-being you must act with extreme circumspection. Please, do not leave the environs of the palace without one of my personal assistants as a guide. I bid you good evening.' After the three Florentines had been ushered from the chamber, the Doge resumed his throne and beckoned Zamboldi closer. Guards were dotted around the room, well out of earshot.
'I want to know their whereabouts at every moment,' Steno said. 'And that includes Tommasini.'
'Of course, My Lord. But I still do not understand why you have taken the risk of allowing these men into the city.'
'Men like the young Medici and his friends do not travel so far without good reason. Especially to a city riddled with plague. He needs something here and, although I have asked him not to leave the palace without a guide, he will of course do precisely that, and at the very earliest opportunity.'
Zamboldi conceded the point with a brief nod. 'But how do we know they are not infected? How do we know they will not make things worse for us?'
'We don't.' The Doge smiled humourlessly. 'But then… could things get any worse? I don't think so. Sometimes, risks are necessary.' 'But…'
Steno glared at his servant. 'Enough. Now do as I ask. If one of the party so much as farts, I want to be informed of it immediately. You understand?' Zamboldi nodded. 'Now go.' 'So, what's the plan, Cosi?'
Cosimo and Niccolo Niccoli were seated at a table in a sumptuous apartment in a secluded wing of the palace. The floor was bare except for a beautiful red rug in the centre of the room. Through a doorway a short passage led to a vast bedchamber. There was a light tap at the door. 'Come.' Ambrogio Tommasini strode in.
'Ah, excellent timing. Niccolo has just asked me to propose apian.'
Tommasini joined them at the table, pushing his chair back and relaxing with his long legs outstretched.
'I think you will agree, gentlemen,' Cosimo went on, 'that we should fulfil our mission here with all haste.'
'The good Doge has placed guards at the end of the corridor,' Tommasini said.
'Quite naturally he is worried we may endanger those sealed up in the palace,' Cosimo replied. 'On the other hand…' said Niccoli.
Cosimo grinned. 'I think it wise to assume the Doge is curious at least about our mission. Why else would he risk exempting us from quarantine? Anyway, a messenger arrived a few minutes ago. It appears our contact, Luigi, is alive and well and awaiting me.' 'Awaiting you?' 'He insists I meet him alone.' 'But Cosimo…' Niccoli exclaimed.
'I appreciate your concern, Niccolo, but there can be no compromise. If I do not comply with Luigi's terms, he will not lead us to the rest of the map. Without that, we will have wasted our time and risked our lives for nothing. Now listen, it should be a simple enough task. Ambrogio, I know you've only been here a short while, but I imagine after the meeting with Valiani you made it your business to find out where I Cinque Canali might be.' Tommasini nodded. 'I can draw you a map.'
'Good man. Niccold, you must distract the guards so I can slip out of the palace. Allow me precisely two hours to join you at a predesignated meeting point. You'll need to find us a suitable vessel and crew to set sail for Ragusa before dawn. It is a short sea voyage, but an extremely hazardous one. If I do not meet you by the end of the third hour of the night, you must retrace my steps as best you can.'
'I'll be coming to Ragusa too,' Tommasini said, surprising the other two. 'But, you have no reason…'
'Cosimo, I'm as curious as you are. Besides, I want to get out of this godforsaken place.' Cosimo nodded. 'Of course.' Tightening a scarf soaked in juniper across his mouth and nose, Cosimo emerged into the night. He was wearing a long plain cloak over a tunic, breeches and stout leather boots. Under his cloak he carried a one-handed arming sword. He took a swig from a small china bottle Ambrogio had pressed into his palm as he left his room. 'It's Triaca' the scholar had told him. 'Amber and oriental spices. It
may provide some small defence against the pestilence.'
The open space of San Marco was too exposed even in the relative darkness of a moonless night, so Cosimo crept along a narrow lane that brought him to the northern edge of the square. I Cinque Canali was close to Campo St Luca equidistant from San Marco and the Grand Canal and he made his way slowly along a path running beside a ribbon of grey water.
The buildings were blacked out and gave the impression that all human life had seeped out from them. In many cases it had. A number of houses carried on their doors a roughly painted white cross, and boards had been nailed across these doors sealing the buildings, imprisoning those inside to fester and die.
The lane opened on to a small square in the middle of which stood a brazier. Logs burned orange and pink with incense, filling the air with a pungent aroma and casting a mournful hue along the dark walls of the surrounding buildings. Cosimo heard a sound behind him. Startled, he spun round in time to see a phantasmagorial figure emerge from the lane he had just left. It was a tall man in a gown that reached the floor. He was wearing a white mask that covered his entire face. The nose of the mask was huge and modelled as a beak, curved downward. On his head was a black hat with flaps at the sides and back. His hands were gloved and he was carrying a large black leather bag. He was a plague doctor, a rare breed of men who had been forced to stay by order of the Doge to treat the sick. The man rushed past Cosimo in silence and plunged into a corridor at the southern end of the square.
Ambrogio had instructed Cosimo to take the northern exit from the campo. He walked quickly, keeping to the shadows. He was breathing fast, and the scarf around his face was prickly with sweat. Eventually, he stopped before a tall, narrow building, the stone of its facade streaked with stains, the upper windows shuttered tight. Over the door was a sign bearing the legend I Cinque Canali.
As Cosimo approached he could hear strains of music and the sound of human voices. Pushing on the door, he found himself in a long narrow room. A small counter stood at the far end. On it was a row of candles in metal trays, which offered a dim, creamy light. Two men stood at the counter drinking, a third sat in the corner playing a lute. They turned to the stranger as he entered, their expressions wary.
Cosimo was about to speak when a dishevelled figure appeared from behind the counter.
'You'll be looking for me.' The light from the candles threw jagged white patches across his face. He was a tiny man with straggly, white hair, no more than four feet tall, dressed in what appeared to be rags and leaning on a knotty wooden staff. Cosimo was startled to see that his eyes were mere white discs.
'You seem surprised' Luigi chuckled. 'I can tell from the movement of your body, the sound of your feet moving slightly on the floor.' He gazed sightlessly at Cosimo's leather boots. 'You know the man who gave me your name?'
'I have known Francesco for many years,' Luigi replied. 'We have journeyed many miles together. I was not always blind.' The old man laughed, his face wrinkled like a decaying apple, his toothless mouth, dark red.
Cosimo rubbed his brow. 'My apologies,' he said. 'Our mutual friend told me you could help me.'
'And indeed I can,' Luigi replied, and walked straight past Cosimo to the door of the inn. 'Well, come along then.'
For a blind man, Luigi moved with surprising speed and agility. He trotted along the passageways and across squares with the confidence of a sighted man in broad daylight. He seemed to have some sixth sense, or was it that having lost completely the use of one sense, the others were heightened?
Cosimo struggled to keep up. They passed along darkened alleyways, the houses pressing in on either side, all as silent as the grave. Suddenly, in the distance, came a long scream, a sound that seemed to emanate from the very caverns of hell.
Luigi turned to him without slowing his pace. 'We are all dying, one by one,' he said.
They crossed over a narrow wooden bridge and plunged into a small campo. This too was lit by a brazier. The logs were burning low, giving off a hazy glow and smelling of beech and lemon. Hundreds of mosquitoes and moths buzzed around the dying flames. Directly ahead of them stood a chapel.
'The thing you seek is inside this building.' Luigi intoned. 'Come.'
He turned a heavy iron ring in the door and pulled. They slipped through the opening and the door slammed shut behind them. The interior of the chapel was awash with light from hundreds of candles placed randomly in holders about the nave and perched on shallow dishes and in stone alcoves. Luigi paced slowly down the aisle and Cosimo followed, the sound of his boots echoing around the walls. Directly ahead an ornate screen depicted the crucifixion. It was new and vivid. The blood dripping from Christ's palms looked almost real.
They heard a slight movement from behind the screen and a priest emerged. He was a tall, emaciated man, his clerical robes almost comically oversized for his narrow frame. His face was drawn, his eyes very tired. 'My Lord, Cosimo de' Medici,' the priest said and bowed awkwardly. 'I am Father Enrico. Our mutual friend Francesco Valiani has left instructions.' He ignored Luigi altogether. 'If you would follow me.'
'I too have my instructions, priest,' Luigi declared. 'That was not…' 'I shall accompany Lord Cosimo.' 'There's really no need…' Cosimo began.
'I shall accompany you, Lord Cosimo,' Luigi repeated and he placed a firm hand on the nobleman's arm.
The priest hesitated for a moment, but, before he could reply, Luigi gave him a toothless smile. 'Then we are agreed.'
Father Enrico led the way through a door to one side of the nave and down a narrow staircase barely wider than a man's shoulders. At the bottom, the priest unlocked a heavy wooden door and Cosimo and Luigi followed him through. They stood in a long passageway lit by a single oil lamp suspended from the ceiling. The place smelt of damp and dead earth.
'This passageway leads to the original chapel,' the priest said. 'It was one of the first buildings constructed in Venice a thousand years ago and consecrated by the great Church Father, Bishop Athenasius himself. The present chapel was built on top of it. My associates and I use this place for special services.'
It was a small chamber. The roof, a series of stone canopies, was supported by four thick pillars. An intricate mosaic about a metre wide stretched the length of the room. Light came from a score of candles placed in stone alcoves around the perimeter of the room. 'It's beautiful,' Cosimo said.
The priest looked into his eyes. 'I'm glad you appreciate this simple wonder, my Lord. Now, your eye is of course drawn to the mosaic floor, a fifth century depiction of the nativity story. But it contains unexpected secrets. Master Valiani gave you a key, did he not?' Cosimo reached into his tunic.
'Ah,' exclaimed Father Enrico, and he walked to a particular spot on the floor. 'The craftsmen of the fifth century were masters of their trade. This mosaic is not only a beautiful decoration, it also acts as a repository for artefacts owned by my Order. We are Arians, an outlawed Christian sect. Master Valiani is a senior member of the order. He has left the thing you seek here.' And he pointed down. 'May I have the key?'
Cosimo handed it to him. Father Enrico placed the golden key into a tiny hole in the eye of a figure standing in a group around the holy crib. Turning the key lines appeared around the edges of the mosaic where not a trace had been visible before. Cosimo crouched down and helped the priest lay the slab carefiilly to one side.
Inside the hole was a plain square wooden box. Cosimo reached in and lifted it out. It was surprisingly light. Placing it on the floor, he opened the lid. Inside lay a bleached bone.
'What is it?' Luigi asked. 'Let me feel.' He touched the bone gently, running his fingers along its length. 'Francesco Valiani told me of this. It is part of the ulna of St Benedict. He purchased it on his journey home from the East.'
'It is not what I expected.' Cosimo turned the object over in his hands. It was then that he noticed an opening at one end of the bone, and strode over to the nearest alcove where the light was strongest. Poking a finger into the
opening, he felt something pressed up against the grainy interior of the bone. With great care, he worked it free.
It was the missing piece of Valiani's map, a disc of parchment a few centimetres in diameter. He could just discern some text and tiny illustrations in faded ink. Cosimo allowed himself a small smile. 'Thank the Lord,' he whispered. There was a slithering sound from the entrance and he turned swiftly. But Luigi was there before him. 'Get back, Cosimo!' he shouted.
Two men ran into the room. They were dressed in simple hooded robes tied at the waist with rope. In the half-light, their faces were invisible. Each held a sword.
Luigi had forced Cosimo back against the wall and was shielding him with his own body, drawing a short sword from inside his greasy cloak. Father Enrico stepped carefully to one side. He looked completely calm. 'Take another step and you die,' Luigi hissed. One of the hooded figures gave an amused sigh.
With amazing agility, Luigi leapt forward sweeping his sword upwards. It caught the arm of one of the attackers and sliced into flesh. The man staggered back, his hood slipping down revealing a young handsome face wreathed in dark curls. Luigi struck a second time, cutting nothing but air.
Cosimo drew his own sword and, as he stepped forward, he noticed the priest creep towards the door and slide into the passageway beyond.
Luigi was swinging his sword in a great arc in front of him and Cosimo made a lunge at the second hooded assailant. As he did so, the injured man thrust his sword deep into Luigi's chest. The old man fell back, his weapon clanging on the stone floor. With calculated ferocity, the hooded man plunged in his blade a second time, and with a choking sigh, Luigi lay still.
Enraged, Cosimo went on the attack. There was a clash of steel on steel. The two men retreated, but only for a moment. Fanning out, they came at Cosimo from front and rear. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a hooded figure in white who had appeared at the door to the chamber. And then he just managed to block a wild slash at his head. One of Cosimo's assailants turned to face the new arrival while the other launched another attack on Cosimo. There came the unmistakable sound of steel slicing through flesh, and the man who had killed Luigi screamed, dropped his sword and grabbed at his stomach, blood pouring through his trembling fingers.
The Medici secret Page 14