Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy

by Crews, Michael

  “Signore, you are the man they call Capolupo, the investigatore?”

  I paused. “Yes. How do you know that? Why are you looking for me?”

  She burst into tears and choked sobs.

  “Because I was one of the girls at The Persian Lily! I must speak to you about Carlo’s murder!”

  My fingers quivered and my heart began to race. I couldn’t think of what to do so I said the first and only thing that came to mind.

  “Come with me.”

  The girl gasped. “Grazie. Grazie.”

  “Walk with me, but be silent.” Damn. I did not want to take this girl to my home but I had no other option. There was no way I would leave this girl out of my sight, not for anything.

  We hurried to my home and I was thankful to find that the common room was deserted for the night. I didn’t need the scandal of my family seeing me escort a courtesan into the sanctity of our family household. The girl followed me to my chamber and I closed the door tightly behind us.

  “You are safe now. Tell me your name.” I found a chair for her to sit. I offered her a blanket for warmth but she declined.

  “My name is Fiorella. It is not the name I was born with, and I was born in the north, over the mountains.” Her complexion was pale and I detected a hint of an unknown accent. Her eyes, though puffy from fatigue and strain, were still round and beautiful.

  “Fiorella, you’ve worked at Signora Veronese’s brothel for a while?”

  “Several months. I suppose, almost a year now that I think about it.” Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “Yes. I came to Florence one year ago, and shortly after began to work for the Signora.”

  “Does she treat the girls well?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “There are many places where they are treated horribly. But Geraldina looks out for us. She is a very good woman.” I was not sure whether she was being honest or simply repeating what she had been told. The mistress had seemed very protective of herself more than anything else, but her demeanor implied that she was shrewd enough to care for her employees as well.

  I caught myself staring at her long, golden hair. It had been unwashed for a couple of days I reckoned, judging from the way that the strands twisted and converged together like chaotic rivulets.

  “How long were you looking for me?”

  “I left the brothel the day before last. I was afraid. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I saw.” Her eyes were glued to the floor as she spoke. I could sense her reliving dark memories. Her hands were clenched to her knees, which were drawn together tightly. I put a hand on hers. She stirred at my touch, but relaxed after the initial surprise.

  “What did you see, Fiorella?” I looked into her eyes, and she gradually raised her gaze to meet mine.

  “Carlo. I saw him being murdered.”

  Poor girl, I thought. But perhaps this was a blessing. There might be justice yet.

  “How did you see it? Were you seen?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. If I was then I don’t think I’d be alive.”

  “Okay then. Why don’t you tell me everything from the beginning.”

  Fiorella swallowed hard.

  “You see, Carlo had been hiding in his chamber for many days. He was scared to death. I’ve never seen someone so mad with fear. His man Tino would come and go, giving him information and supplies.”

  “What was he hiding from?”

  “Men who were after him. He’d heard rumors about it, that there were men coming to collect what he’d taken. Carlo had no idea what those rumors were about, at least that’s what he claimed. At first they didn’t bother him, but then things started to get very bad. Associates of his were getting attacked in the street, one of them disappeared without a trace. He heard there was a price on his head. That’s when he decided to leave the city.”

  “You were Carlo’s lover?”

  “Yes. I was his favorite, and he was kind to me so I was kind to him. But I really felt for him towards the end. I know he was not a good man, but he was not the worst man I’ve been with. And his reputation was terrible but I believe that most of the stories about him were not true. Besides, Tino and the others would take care of most of the bad things.”

  “I see.” It was as I suspected. Carlo was the mind and the coin behind the operation. On the other end were Tino and the collectors. Most people had probably never seen his face, in fact they probably had no idea who they were even borrowing from. It was no wonder that he had eluded us for so long. I wondered how Liam had managed to know so much about the man, then thought better of spending too much time thinking about it.

  She continued. “As I said before, he had decided to leave the city. The morning he was supposed to leave Tino never showed up. There was no word or anything, so Carlo stayed in his room the whole day. I stayed with him to keep him company but he was alone within himself, as though I was not even there.”

  “And that night?”

  “That night I held him and tried to comfort him. He remained quiet and cold. Then we heard loud banging coming from the roof. Carlo’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Fiorella, I need you to hide. Whatever you do, do not make a sound!’ I hurried to do as he wished, squeezing under the bed. A moment later I heard a noise from the window and saw a man’s boots hit the floor before me.

  “‘Carlo,’ said the man. ‘Do you know why I’ve come?’ His voice was deep and sinister.

  “‘Si, I was expecting you would after Tino failed to return. What do you want from me?’

  “‘I’ve come to collect what you stole. I want you to tell me where it is. And you’d better have it.’

  “‘I don’t know what the hell you are talking about!’

  “‘The pouch that you took from Ugo. It wasn’t his to take, and neither is it yours. Give it to me. Now.’

  “‘Ugo’s pouch? You stupid fool, is that all that you wanted? You idiot! You stupid bastard! You’ve come all this way for that? Killed my men? Hunted me like a dog?’ Carlo was enraged. I could tell that he was mad then, his mind having snapped like a dried twig. He rose and reached for a knife sitting beside him on the table.’

  “‘I’m warning you, Carlo.’

  “‘Fuck you! Puttana di merda! I’ll kill you!’ Carlo charged the man but the stranger drew a sword and pierced him with it through the chest. Carlo choked from the intensity of the pain. Then the man shoved him hard against the wall with his boot, where he collapsed to the floor.

  “‘Tell me where you’ve put it. I promise you, that was not a fatal blow. But if you want the pain to end then you had better tell me where you’ve hidden it. Speak, before your lungs fill with blood and you cannot speak.’

  “Carlo croaked something, then he pointed across the room. There was a hiding spot beneath one of the planks where he kept his valuables. The man swooped down and uncovered the stash. But just as he did, I saw Carlo move slowly at first. Then he was on his feet, and peeking out I could see a dagger in his hand.

  “The stranger barely had a moment to react. Carlo’s dagger pierced his side, and as he reached to try to fend off the blow he dropped the sack which split as it struck the floor. Several gold coins spilled out of the ruined pouch. The stranger staggered back, off balance.

  “’You want this?’ screamed Carlo with what little breath he had remaining as he bent down to retrieve a handful of the coins. ‘Is this all that my life is worth for you pieces of shit?’ He gripped the coins tightly, fingers clenched into a fist.

  “The stranger regained his balance and lunged for Carlo, his own dagger drawn. I could see it plunge directly into Carlo’s heart and the two men fell, one on top of the other. I also saw that, before he even struck the ground, that Carlo was dead.”

  All was silent for the span of several breaths. Fiorella searched for her words carefully.

  “After that, the stranger picked up the coins from the floor and placed them in a pouch of his own. He even tried to pry the coins from Carlo’s hand
but was unable to, as though in his final madness Carlo’s fingers had become rigid like stone. Furious, the assassin threw the ruined sack and Carlo’s belongings back into the stash and fled back out the window.”

  “Remarkable,” I said. It was all that I could think of to say at that point.

  13

  Fiorella sat, wooden and silent as I absorbed her tale. If it was really true, and I had no reason to doubt that it was, then anyone would have been traumatized after witnessing such a chilling scene.

  “I’m sorry to have made you relive that memory,” I said.

  “No. I needed to tell you. You are the man who will put right what has happened.”

  She was right, of course, and I found myself determined to find justice for the violent acts that had lately been plaguing the city. If not to protect innocents liker her, or Signora Neri, or all those others affected by this plague of brutality, then what was my purpose?

  “Did you happen to see the murderer’s face?”

  “No. Not very well at least.”

  In just one moment my hope had gone from soaring to smashed like a rudderless boat dashed upon the rocks. So close, I thought. Was I cursed as well? A test to see how much I could bear?

  “It was too dark," I said.

  “No. Because he was wearing a mask over his face. Or rather, some sort of thin material to cover his eyes and nose. But I could see he had a mustache.” She paused. “And he had a thick Spanish accent.”

  My eyes went wide. The ganea. Liam had run into a large man with a disguise exactly like the one Fiorella had just described. When he spoke, what little I had managed to hear carried a thick Spanish accent had lilted his words.

  “He was a large man?" I struggled to remember exactly, but I held up my hand just a tiny bit higher than my head. “About this tall?”

  “Yes.”

  I wanted to shout but I knew that I couldn’t, not at that hour. I was struck, however, by a fit of laughter that was more intense than any I could remember. Fiorella looked at me as though I was possessed.

  “The man you describe, I've seen him before. He was at a gambling den on the night of Tino's death.” I hesitated. She wouldn’t have known of his fate. Her expression was fixed, so it seemed she had assumed the truth. I still felt bad for breaking it to her in this way.

  “Such is life for people like that,” she said, as though she had read my thoughts. “May they rest in peace finally.”

  The irony of Carlo’s fate was not lost to me. He had spent his life using fear and violence to prey off of others for money. How interesting and fitting that it had been lust for money that had destroyed him in the end.

  “So all of this, this... chaos and destruction. It was all about recollecting some ill-gotten coins then?”

  “Yes. The killer didn't take anything else, just the money. There were other valuables in the room but he didn't look twice at them.”

  “Then this thief, or collector, or whatever he was, must have been very disciplined,” I said, incredulous. “Are you sure that he didn’t take anything else? Anything at all?”

  “There was nothing else. Only the money, which had dropped on the floor. I saw it myself. There was nothing else in that pouch and he did not take anything else from Carlo or his cache.”

  I thought of Carlo’s words. “But why would the killer have gone to so much trouble over a handful of florins? It’s a lot of money to an ordinary laborer, certainly, but this man was a professional by the sound of it. A real, trained killer.” My tone had shifted now, and I could see she was growing uncomfortable.

  “Please, I promise I’m not lying. I just told you everything I know. Maybe there was something else in the bag and I didn’t see it. Maybe he took something from Carlo’s body that he was carrying on himself and I just didn’t see it.”

  I hadn’t meant to hurt her, and it was clear that her condition was fragile at best. That little bit of questioning had caused her to begin to doubt herself and now she was confused and scared. I had participated in enough interrogations to know when a witness had broken, and here there had been very little left to break.

  “I’m sorry, Fiorella. I don’t have any other questions for now.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She leaned close to me. “Please, don’t let anything bad happen to me. I don’t know where to go. I left the brothel because they told me to just forget what had I had seen but I couldn’t! How could I live with those images in my mind forever?”

  Her hands held tightly to mine, fingers interwoven. A spark of guilt flashed from within as I sensed myself becoming aroused. She was slightly ragged from her escape from the brothel but it only seemed to make her rustic beauty glow more radiantly.

  “Stay with me then. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.” I remembered that there was not anywhere that I needed to be and that the day belonged exclusively to me. I pet her arm gently. “Don’t think about it tonight.”

  I snuffed out the lamp, and the room was cast in milky moonlight. Fiorella curled up against me, body pressing against mine. I was still clothed in an attempt to preserve modesty. It was a lie and I knew it.

  Her hot breath against my skin made all inhibition dissipate in one thrilling moment. Her fingers slipped beneath my tunic and began exploring my chest. My arms enveloped her and held her in close. We kissed desperately, as though the visage of Death would appear at any moment to claim us both.

  My hand swept down her shoulder and around her breast, and the sensation of her cool skin beneath my fingertips made my excitement grow. Greedily I untied her corset and freed her from its cruel bondage, then immediately seized upon her naked breasts. While I suckled her she fumbled with my breeches until at last her hands had made enough room to snake down and latch onto my engorged manhood.

  “Don’t stop. I need you so much,” she whimpered.

  She clutched me until I could feel myself pulsating in her grip, and the motion of her hand was steady and persistent. Only a little while ago she seemed frail and vulnerable. But now, her appetite had made her determined.

  I leaned back, propping myself with my elbow while she stared down from above. Her hips rested squarely atop mine, and her pubis ground against me while she covered my chest with kisses. Golden hair hung down around her face and teased my exposed flesh.

  In a frenzied rush I swept her up and onto her back. Her eyes pleaded with me. I descended upon her and in an instant I was plunged into molten warmth beyond comprehension. Her legs curled around me and drew me ever inward, beckoning me with each convulsive wave.

  A great spasm arced through her body, from the base of her spine to the top of her head. Nails dug into my flesh as she shuddered violently. Her pleasure spurred me and my frenzy escalated until it felt as though the whole room would shake to bits. I stared into her eyes and she stared back. I braced myself but the release that followed was paralyzing, leaving me at its mercy until I collapsed upon her completely spent. The last thing I remembered were her hands stroking my face, and the words “thank you” being whispered sweetly in my ear.

  The morning was indeed late when I finally sat up and contemplated facing the day. I had put off thinking about what to do about my guest but I knew that it was impossible for her to stay with me. I watched her form beneath the blanket, rising and falling with each breath as she slept noiselessly.

  It was important that she remain safe. There was no evidence that she was in any danger from the killers but I would not take that chance. She was the only witness to any of the murders, and there was no telling if she might be useful in the ongoing investigation.

  My home was a sanctuary, but it was far from secure. I couldn’t expose my family to the dangers lurking outside, and it was for that reason that I lamented having brought Fiorella into it to begin with. What choice had I had though? Considering everything, I had but one option that I could think of.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Mercurio!” It was Vera’s voice.

  �
��One moment!” I said urgently, but the door accidentally creaked open. Vera gasped in embarrassment as she saw the girl in my bed and my nude body barely covered. Fiorella stirred and opened her eyes. She recoiled when she saw the servant.

  “Vera, please. Do not tell mother, I beg you.” I reached to the floor for my breeches and she covered her eyes.

  “No, no! I’m sorry!” she cried. She started to close the door but I was up and I wedged myself between it and the doorway.

  “Vera, listen. This girl is an extremely important witness. I’d like to say that what happened in there wasn’t what it looked like, but we both know that wouldn’t be true. Nevertheless, I must beg you to stay quiet and do not say a word of this. Do you understand me?”

  Her face was a dark shade of pink. “I swear, Mercurio.”

  I let her go. “Thank you, Vera.” She walked away and I closed the door behind me. Fiorella was watching me the whole time.

  “I can’t stay here, can I?”

  “I’m afraid not. But I will protect you. There is a convent that you can stay at, a shelter. You’ll be safe there.”

  She sighed. “Fine. I’ll do as you ask, Signore.”

  There was another knock at the door. “Mercurio, it’s me,” said Vera. I opened it and she stood holding clean clothes. “For the lady. It looks like she needs them. Your mother won’t know.”

  “Vera,” I said, relieved, “you are a sweetheart.”

  As soon as Fiorella was dressed we left and proceeded to the monastery. Walking through the smoky streets, my feelings were conflicted. This young woman had helped my investigation immeasurably, appearing as though from heaven to deliver me a suspect. She needed my protection, and so I was bringing her to the safest place I could think of in such short notice.

  Lisbetta would see that she was taken good care of, I assured myself. My sister was one of the warmest and most charitable people I knew. She was wise well beyond her years, and in her seclusion she had had ample time to spend reading and accumulating knowledge. Her order welcomed vulnerable women, providing them safety and comfort far from the dangers of the streets. Some were seeking escape from abusive husbands. Others were reformed prostitutes who wished to escape and reclaim their virtue.