Two carpenters waited in the chapel with a coffin. To Bruchard’s alarm, they could not fit the corpse inside. “You made it too narrow!” he cried.
They looked at each other. “No, Eminence. It is the size we were instructed to make it.”
“Well, it is too small. You shall have to assist me with the body.”
The three of them forced the body inside. They jammed it down, but even then, it still would not fit. Bruchard climbed on top of the coffin and pushed it down with all his might. He sighed with relief when, finally, it went. The stench was near unbearable, and he pulled away. One of the workers tried to wedge the mitre inside, but there was no room for it. Bruchard had to remove it and cover the corpse with a piece of old carpet lying nearby.
At first, the priests of St. Peter’s Basilica refused to accept the body for burial. They did so only when the papal staff forced the issue. Only four prelates attended the Requiem Mass.
Lucifer smiled to himself, knowing the pope could no longer pose a threat to him. His secret could rot with him in his grave. He just needed to speak now with Piccolomini. The cardinal had to remove Andrei from the vault and burn his body.
ROME PROVINCE. THE HOME OF GINA ORSINI
IN THE RIONE BORGO.
AUGUST 23, 1503.
Lucifer watched Piccolomini enter the home of his young lover. He had much to discuss with the cardinal, so he stole his way inside the plush residence. No one could see him in the dark corner where he lurked. He watched the elderly man kiss the young woman in the hall.
“You are late,” she said.
“I have had much to do,” he replied, in his defence. “The pope is dead.”
“Yes, it is the talk of the city.”
He removed his hat and coat. “Of course, he was the pope, after all.”
She flung her arms around him and kissed him deeper on the mouth. “So you must be pleased?”
“Why would I be pleased?” he asked, when they broke from their kiss.
“You wish to be pope, do you not?”
“Yes, that is true,” he admitted, a little reluctant.
“Well, perhaps after this day you shall be,” she said, offering a smile that hinted it was what she wanted for him.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“And what would become of me, if you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you still have the time for me?”
“My dear Gina,” he said, “I shall always have the time for you.”
“Would we make love all over the Vatican palace?”
“We might. Let me first attain the office, and then you can have your sport after.”
She smiled, giving him a look that hinted she had mischief in mind. “I have something special planned for you this night.”
“Oh?” he said. “Is not every occasion I spend with you a special one?”
“Of course, my dear Franc. You know what I mean when I say such things.”
Lucifer stepped out from the shadows and caught his eye.
“Why not take a bath, my love, and prepare?” he said to her.
“I have already bathed.”
“Then have another. I want you to smell sweeter than roses this night.”
She looked a little dismayed. “Very well, I shall see you shortly.”
He waited until she had gone. A servant walked into the hall, but he sent her on her way. He then turned to Lucifer. “I wondered when you might come.”
“The pope is dead.”
“Yes, quite. So to the business of the new election.”
“And of the moving of Andrei from the vault. Everything rests on that. Most of all, it should determine your fate.”
“Not quite. First, I am to be pope. When I am, then I shall do as you ask.”
Lucifer glared at him. “Very well. You had best not dare let me down.”
It took a lot to convince Cesare Borgia to leave Rome. Only when he had could the conclave function without bias to elect the new pope. In truth, it allowed Lucifer a free role to manipulate those he had his claws into. On September 22, the conclave elected Piccolomini as pope. He took the name of Pius III.
His first action was to have Cesare Borgia arrested. He wanted to secure a firm grip on the reins of power, and, to do this, he needed Cesare gone. His men arrested and detained him.
Cesare brooded inside his prison cell. His captors allowed him contact with no one. It took bribes for him to even get a message to de Corella. He sat on his bed and waited. If it were the last thing he ever did, he would see Pius dead.
Pius did not attend to the matter of Andrei at once. He cared only to establish his power base in the Vatican, and to see his lover. Lucifer sent him a warning.
He took it on board. Two days later, he was at the door of the vault. He stood and gazed at it, a dozen of his Swiss Guards standing there with him.
“Shall I open the door, Holy Father?” the captain asked.
“No,” he said. “I shall do it.”
“The handle is not easy to turn.”
“I am sure I can manage it.”
The captain stepped to one side as Pius approached the door. Andrei lay in his crypt as he had done for a year and a half. The energy that had lived within him remained there still. It sensed the black aura of the new pope the moment he stood outside the vault. Right away, it knew a disciple of the Devil was close by.
The energy came to life, and a faint blue spark appeared within the corpse of Andrei. In only a few moments, it lit up his entire body. The glow changed into the form of a solid light and grew until it filled the inside of the crypt.
Pius touched the handle, not expecting to encounter any kind of a problem. The blue light forced its way through the stone that formed the outer edge of Andrei’s tomb. Once it had done so, it filled the vault. Pius gripped the metal in both hands. The light drew on its own power until it reached a blinding intensity.
A sharp pain hit him behind his eyes. He paused for a moment to let his head clear. The words of Lucifer ran over and over in his mind. He knew he had to see this through. If he did not, the consequences could prove dire for him.
He gritted his teeth to muster the courage to try a second time. At his age, he did not possess the same strength as in years gone by. It might have been better to allow one of the guards to do this for him. But, in light of the fact Lucifer had secured his election, he felt he had to do it by himself.
Pius gripped the handle again. He took a deep breath and prepared to turn it. The light glowed harder still. An even more acute pain seared through his head. For a moment, a black wave passed before his eyes. He gasped at the shock of it.
Andrei opened his eyes, aware of the presence nearby, though his body did not move. The tomb had preserved him to the extent that he looked the same as the day they had put him there. His muscles, though, had shrunk so much they could never function again, not without an intervention from above. But he was awake. His dried lungs took a first laboured breath since death. He focused on the one who had come to desecrate him and closed his eyes again. His impenetrable will added to the power of the energy within the vault.
A jet of blood shot from both of Pius’s nostrils, and hit the door. Spots of it splattered off the metal and hit his face and body. He continued to grip the handle in both hands. When his nose ejected a second stream, he let go.
The guards nearest to him looked on in shock. Pius froze to the spot. He felt all the strength sucked out of his limbs, before his body lolled slowly backwards. Like a felled tree, he went down. The captain rushed forward, managing to throw his arms around the pope and catch him just before he hit the floor.
Blood continued to flow steadily from his nose, and coated the fingers of the officer. Pius lost all sense of place. His hands thudded against the floor as he groaned in pain. A crimson blanket soaked his robes.
“Assist me!” the captain shouted to his men.
It snapped them out of the trance their initial shock had
induced. They raised the pontiff up again. His knees sagged, but they held him firm.
“Take him to his apartments,” the captain ordered. “And send for the physician.”
His men carried the ailing Pius away. The captain stood there alone and gazed at the door. Blood still covered his hands. He looked at it with disdain, and wiped it on his uniform. His attention returned to the door. What he had just witnessed intrigued him greatly. What did this to the pope? Was it the door?
In the short time he had spent with Pius, something else had happened within the vault. The energy there continued to build, but it had no outlet. Andrei grew more and more alert. His mind focused on those trying to gain access to the vault, and then to him.
He visualised the door in his mind. Even confined to his crypt, he could see it. That, and the man attempting to gain entry through it. The light that filled the vault drew further on the energy coming from his body. Almost at once, the metal heated up. Even on the outside, the captain sensed its warmth. He gripped the handle in both hands, just as Pius had done before him, determined that he would open it.
And then he screamed. The metal scorched both his palms and his fingers. He tried to let go, but could not. It melted his flesh until the two welded into one. He screamed again, louder than before. Two of his guards ran over and watched him slide to the floor, although he still gripped the handle.
The guards grabbed an arm each. Their captain cried out again when they tugged. After a short time, his hands came free. He looked down in shock at his palms. They had burned all the way through to the bone. His flesh sizzled on the metal, stuck to it like glue, though blackened and charred.
His men pulled him clear, feeling his body shake in their grip. The captain mumbled something they did not quite hear. Then he passed out.
Inside the vault, the blue light vanished with the threat gone. Pius would not again attempt to gain access. Andrei closed his eyes once more. His heart ceased to beat as he returned again to paradise.
Pius recovered after a few days. Fear gripped him inside when he recalled the events at the vault. He worried more that he had failed Lucifer. The Dark One would be furious with him.
He racked his brain for a solution. There was not one he could think of, and it left him a grim future. Nobody reneged on a contract with Lucifer. Even so, Pius knew there was no way into the vault. The guards recounted to him what had happened after they had carried him away. He would have to think of another way out of this mess.
A smile crossed his face for the first time. Lucifer and his demons cannot enter the inner sanctum of the Vatican. As long as I remain within these walls, he cannot harm me.
Lucifer knew it too. From a distance, he read the thoughts of the man he had given the papacy. He curled his lower lip in anger. One way or another, Pius would pay the price for failing him. While Pius officially took up his office on October 8, Lucifer was already hatching a new scheme to bring him down.
SIENA. THE ESTATE OF PANDOLFO PETRUCCI.
OCTOBER 8, 1503.
Lucifer surfaced next in Siena. There, he intended to call in an old debt. Pandolfo Petrucci was the most powerful man in the state. This had not always been the case. After a life in politics, his enemies exiled him in 1483. He had spent years living in the shadow of his wealthy brother, Jacopo.
In his darkest days, Lucifer came to him and offered him his brother’s fortune and power. This he could have in exchange for his soul. It was a deal he was more than happy to make. At seventy years of age, he had few prospects. He returned to Siena and became captain of the city guard in 1495. His brother died two years later, in which event Petrucci seized his fortune and his office.
He married Aurelia Borghese soon after, a daughter of the powerful Niccolo Borghese. With the backing of her father, he gained a number of political offices. This added to his vast wealth, and also increased his political power tenfold. Many of these offices he sold for huge sums. Others he gave to his friends to consolidate his authority.
With his growing power, he made many enemies. In 1500, he learned of a plot to murder him, led by his father-in-law. He smashed the plot and killed all the conspirators. From then on, he imposed his tyrannical grip on the city.
Lucifer found him in the stables on his estate. Petrucci had been out riding all morning, as he liked to do. When he was alone, Lucifer made his move.
“Pandolfo,” he said, without any manner of greeting.
The governor knew the voice, and turned to see Lucifer standing there.
“I see you have not forgotten me.”
“How could I forget you? All that I have, you gave to me.”
“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, nodding. “That is so.”
“You have come to collect on my debt? My time has come to an end?”
“Yes and no. That would depend on you.”
Petrucci patted the stallion on the side of its neck and turned away from it. He had long dreaded this day, though he knew it would come. “What do you mean, Majesty?”
Lucifer sensed an increase in Petrucci’s heart rate, but liked the man’s confidence and lack of fear. “I want you to do me a service.”
“And then?”
“If you succeed, I shall free you of your debt to me.”
Petrucci processed the statement quickly in his mind. “You would give me back my soul?”
“Yes.”
Petrucci had acquired much wisdom with age. “But you are not in the habit of giving back souls, not once you have acquired them.”
“That is very true,” Lucifer said, his voice taking on a sinister edge. “Though I am willing to make an exception, in this case.”
The governor did not know that to be spared an eternity in Hell, did not mean he would have access to Heaven. He had a black soul whether Lucifer freed him or not. His fate would be to wander the earth for eternity after his death, trapped and alone, denied contact with any other soul, living or dead. Many walked that path now and would welcome a change, even in Hell.
Petrucci nodded his understanding, relieved at the reprieve Lucifer had offered him. “Then the favour you ask must be a hefty one.”
“But of course.”
“Then what would you have me do?”
“I want you to kill Pius.”
“The new pope?”
“Yes, and I want it done very soon.”
“He owes you too?”
“Oh, yes, he owes me.”
“Then why not collect on his debt? No man can resist you, if that is what you desire.”
“He is different. The walls of the Vatican protect him from me.”
“That is why you need me?”
Lucifer sighed at the question. Why are mortals such stupid creatures? It is no wonder I have never liked man. He is so flawed. Yet my Father favours him over me. It made his blood boil even still.
Petrucci knew he had annoyed him. “How does one kill the pope? He is so well protected.”
“There are ways to achieving any end.”
“In the Vatican, as you say, he can escape even your clutches.”
“Think on it.”
“He has a mistress?”
“Yes, Gina Orsini. I gave her to him.”
“I have seen her. A rare beauty, she is. I cannot imagine she would even look upon him.”
“That is why he needed me.”
“Then I should use her to reach him.”
“Yes, but do it soon.”
“I cannot do it myself. It is not safe for me in Rome. Cesare Borgia would surely use it as his chance to kill me.”
“Pius has thrown him in prison.”
“I have not heard of this.”
“It is so. Borgia shall not get in your way.”
“Perhaps I can use it to my advantage?”
“What you do is for you to decide. Have Pius dead before the week draws to a close.”
ROME PROVINCE. THE APARTMENTS OF
POPE PIUS III AT THE VATICAN ENCLAVE
IN THE
CITY OF ROME.
OCTOBER 15, 1503.
Pius had not seen Gina in almost ten days, and he missed her the same as a warrior might miss his sword arm. All that made her the woman she was, he adored. Her face, her smell, her smile, her soft voice, her even softer touch, the warmth of her mouth; he loved all these things.
She also began to miss him. For a long time now, he had consumed her whole being. Her need for him burned strong within her. She felt if she did not see him again soon, she would go mad. For the last three days, she had despatched a messenger several times with a letter.
He read them all. With each one, his need for her grew ever stronger, but he could not leave the sanctity of the Vatican. If he did, then Lucifer would surely pounce. The last time the messenger called, he gave him a reply to take to her.
Her heart missed a beat when she held the letter in her hands. She ripped it open and read his words. Smiling, she clutched it to her breast. “He shall see me on the morrow,” she whispered to herself. “He shall see me on the morrow.”
She slept hardly a wink that night. The next day, she mulled about her home, wishing away the hours. In the early evening, she took a long soak in her bath. She applied her nicest scents and dressed in the clothes he liked to see on her.
It was rare for Gina to venture out in these times. The tertian fever still claimed many in the city. That was far from her thoughts now. She wanted only to see her lover. Her escort helped her into the carriage, and then sat on top with his colleague. They began the short journey, with a third man sat in the carriage beside her.
Her father never liked to take any risks with her safety. When she left home, her escorts went too. The last few years had seen some bad elements flood into the city. It made the streets unsafe, and he feared for her. For a woman, Rome was not a good place at all. There was also the threat from Cesare Borgia, his most hated enemy. He had lost much of his wealth to this man, stolen one way or another. His daughter, he could not afford to lose. For Borgia, she would be a great prize for which he could extract any ransom or favour. He therefore employed good men to stay at her side any time she left their home.
The Dracula Chronicles: Bound By Blood Page 33