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In The Lion's Sign
Stefano Vignaroli
Year 2019: once again, the scholar Lucia Balleani and the archaeologist Andrea Franciolini will take us by the hand and guide us through the arcane mysteries of the Renaissance Jesi, among streets, alleys and palaces of a historical centre that, at the gates of the 1920s, begins to regurgitate from the underground ancient and important objects from past eras. The archaeological excavations of Piazza Colocci will in fact reserve unexpected surprises in the eyes of the entire population of Jesi. We begin to follow the events of the characters of the sixteenth century through the discovery of ancient documents and archaeological finds by the young couple of researchers of our time. New winds of war will in fact lead the Captain of Arms of the Royal City of Jesi to the battlefields.
After the first two episodes of the series ”The Printer”, here we are at the end, the last episode of the saga dedicated to the Renaissance Jesi. We left Andrea almost at the point of death, helped by his beloved, hidden in disguise. The plot has moved to Urbino, but certainly our two heroes, Andrea Franciolini and Lucia Baldeschi, will have to return to Jesi to fulfill their dream of love. The wedding will have to be a festive and opulent event, and will have to be celebrated by the Bishop of the City of Jesi, Monsignor Piersimone Ghislieri. But are we sure that obscure plots, of destiny and of men, will not be able to hinder for the umpteenth time the union between Andrea and Lucia? The two lovers have found each other again, and for nothing in the world would they want to leave each other again. Andrea finally wants to be a father to his little girl, Laura and, why not, to Lucia's adopted daughter, Anna. The girls are fantastic, they are growing up healthy and lively in the country residence of the Counts Baldeschi, and Andrea is enjoying their closeness. But winds of war will once again lead the Captain of Arms of the Royal City of Jesi to the battlefields. And soon to leave the peace and quiet regained. The Lansquenets press the gates of northern Italy and the Duke of Oak, in a strange alliance with Giovanni De' Medici, better known as Giovanni Dalle Bande Nere, will do his best to prevent German soldiers from reaching Florence and even Rome. Avoiding the sacking of the Eternal City in 1527 will not be an easy task, neither for the Duke Della Rovere, nor for Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, nor for Captain Franciolino de' Franciolini. Let us once again follow the events of the characters of the sixteenth century through the discoveries of ancient documents and archaeological finds of the young couple of researchers of our time. Once again, the scholar Lucia Balleani and the archaeologist Andrea Franciolini will take us by the hand and guide us through the arcane mysteries of the Renaissance Jesi, among streets, alleys and palaces of an old town centre that, at the gates of the 1920s, begins to regurgitate from the underground ancient and important objects from past eras.
Stefano Vignaroli
IN THE LION’S SIGN
The Printer – Third Episode
ISBN
©2019 – 2020 Stefano Vignaroli
©2021 Tektime
All rights of reproduction, distribution and translation are reserved.
The pieces about Jesi’s story have been taken and freely adapted from Giuseppe Luconi’s texts
Illustrations by Prof. Mario Pasquinelli, kindly granted by his legitimate heirs
Website http://www.stedevigna.com
E-mail for contacts stedevigna@gmail.com
Stefano Vignaroli
IN THE LION’S SIGN
The Printer – Third Episode
NOVEL
PREFACE
In The Lion’s sign concludes the trilogy of Renaissance settings, entitled The Printer, preceded by “The Shadow of the Bell Tower” and “The Bronze Crown”. Protagonists, once again, are the indomitable leaders, the Marquis Andrea Franciolini, and the Countess Lucia Baldeschi, condemned by fate to constantly postpone the wedding, the seal of a great love. And with them, their descendants, the homonymous of nowadays Andrea and Lucia. The unexpected call to arms, which came from the Duke of Urbino on the day of the wedding, forces Andrea to go, through a perilous journey, first to northern Italy and then to the Netherlands, and Lucia takes again the charge of the regency of the city of Jesi and its county. So the narration splits: on one side there is the errant knight and his adventures, studded and enriched by the encounter with historical characters, as in the case of the cunning and ruthless Giovanni Dalle Bande Nere and the rival first and friend then, Duke Franz Vollenweider, mercenary, half trickster and half Lansquenet. On the other hand, Lucia, a caring mother, a lover with intense passions and a pink governess in an era dominated by men, who in the only Bernardino, the printer, finds a shoulder, a confidant and an ally. In the background, the clash between the Emperor Charles V and the Pope with his allies, from the King of France to the various lords of Italian cities, who made and broke alliances with Machiavellianism. Battles, intrigues, love, moonlight Sabbath and, above all, two great mysteries, emerged from the bowels of the earth, from the excavations in the square overlooking the Palazzo della Signoria (the Government Palace) in Jesi, tie and mark the events of the two Lucia and the Andrea of yesterday and today. An ancient codex, wanted and coveted even by Hitler, and an icon, depicting the transverse lion, symbol of the city, disturb dreams, generate anguish and lust for knowledge and lead to action. A fluid prose returns not only the colours, but also the sounds and atmospheres of places and situations and chains the reader to the page, from the first to the last chapter, in a crescendo of interest for the fate of the protagonists. Vignaroli signs a great historical fresco, in a mixture of fantasy and erudition, which worthily seals the last act of a great trilogy.
Marco Torcoletti
PREMISE
After the first two episodes of the series “The Printer”, here we are at the end, the last episode of the saga dedicated to the Renaissance in Jesi. We left Andrea almost at the point of death, helped by his beloved, hidden in disguise. The plot has then moved to Urbino, but certainly our two heroes, Andrea Franciolini and Lucia Baldeschi, will have to return to Jesi to realize their dream of love. The wedding will have to be a festive and opulent event, and will have to be celebrated by the Bishop of the City of Jesi, Monsignor Piersimone Ghislieri. But are we sure that obscure plots, of destiny and of men, will not be able to hinder for the umpteenth time the union between Andrea and Lucia? The two lovers have found each other again, and not for anything they would want to leave each other again. Andrea finally wants to be a father to his little girl, Laura and, why not, to Lucia’s adopted daughter, Anna.
The girls are fantastic, they are growing up healthy and lively in the country residence of the Counts Baldeschi, and Andrea is enjoying their closeness. But winds of war will once again lead the Captain of Arms of the Royal City of Jesi to the battlefields. And soon to leave the peace and quiet regained. The Lansquenets press the gates of northern Italy and the Duke Della Rovere, in a strange alliance with Giovanni De’ Medici, better known as Giovanni Dalle Bande Nere
, will do his best to prevent German soldiers from reaching Florence and even Rome. Avoiding the sacking of the Eternal City in 1527 will not be an easy task, neither for the Duke Della Rovere, nor for Giovanni Dalle Bande Nere, nor for Captain Franciolino de’ Franciolini.
Let us once again follow the events of the characters of the sixteenth century through the discoveries of ancient documents and archaeological finds of the young couple of researchers of our time. Once again, the scholar Lucia Balleani and the archaeologist Andrea Franciolini will take us and guide through the arcane mysteries of Jesi during the Renaissance, among streets, alleys and palaces of an old town centre that, at the gates of the year 2020, begins to burst from the underground ancient and important objects from past eras.
Stefano Vignaroli
CHAPTER 1
Bernardino, on the threshold of his print shop, which overlooked Via delle Botteghe, at the arch of the ancient Domus Verronum, watched the wedding procession with great satisfaction. At last, after many obstacles and ups and downs, Countess Lucia Baldeschi, on a radiant day in late summer 1523, would join Andrea De’ Franciolini in marriage. In fact, to be precise, with Marquis Franciolino De’ Franciolini, Lord of the Alto Montefeltro and Captain of Arms of the Royal City of Jesi. The procession itself was preceded by drum rolls and trumpet blasts, the exhibition of flag-wavers, the evolutions of the elegant birds of prey launched by skilled falconers, and the parade of the noble families of the various districts of the city, each identified by its banner and the banner of the district to which they belong. The city was a riot of colours. Every street, every alley and every palace was festively decorated. The crisp air of September, as the day progressed towards the midday hours, had allowed the sun to warm the atmosphere in a very unusual way for the season, so much so that many nobles were sweating inside their brocade or velvet dresses. The luckiest were the noblewomen who had chosen to wear cool coloured silk dresses. Bernardino had recognized the members of the most important families of Jesi, not only by the banners, but because he knew their physiognomies well. The Counts Marcelli, the Marquises Honorati, the Amatori, the Amici and the Colocci. All headed towards Piazza San Floriano to attend the religious service presided over by Monsignor Piersimone Ghislieri, a bishop loved by all citizens. After a passage of jugglers and fire-eaters and another carousel of flag-wavers, finally appeared the bride, beautiful, on a horse with a white coat, with a mane hairstyle in fine braids that fell on one side and the other of the elegant neck of the animal. Lucia was wearing a splendid red damask silk gamurra, enriched by floral motifs drawn in light relief embroidery. With a white lace added to the rectangular neckline and the sleeve edges. The dress, up to her feet long, embellished with set buttons and precious gems, tightened at the waist by a finely woven belt, did not allow the bridesmaid to sit on the horse like an amazon, as she was accustomed. Both legs had to be placed on the same side of the horse, making it even more difficult and tiring to maintain balance on the saddle. But Lucia kept a haughty look, holding herself lightly on the reins, without ever looking any citizen in the eye. She allowed herself to be admired, without ever looking back at anyone. Only when she passed by Bernardino, did her face light up and sketched a smile like a greeting to her dear friend and mentor. The printer noticed it and pleased himself. Looking at the Countess Baldeschi with obsequious admiration, he remembered how red was the favourite colour of the brides of the time. Red was the symbol of creative power and, therefore, of fertility, but above all the fabrics of that colour were the most expensive and appreciated. The wedding procession was considered an integral part of the ceremony. Usually it represented a public display of the bride’s family’s wealth, parading through the streets of the city in her precious wedding dress, accompanied by the noble knights of the family. None of this for Lucia Baldeschi, who had not wanted any presumed member of her family around her. Her sober elegance and poise was almost that of a queen who went to the altar to marry her prince. A queen who had always made herself loved by her people for what she was and not for what she wanted to appear. And she would never want appearing differently just because that was a special day. All the citizens of Jesi had learned to love her as a woman with a strong and determined character, but at the same time with a good and kind soul. Bernardino queued for the procession which, shortly afterwards, would arrive on the churchyard of the Church of St. Floriano, where the groom, together with Cardinal Ghislieri, would be waiting for her. There, the wedding ceremony would take place with the exchange of the rings. After that, the bride and groom, celebrants and guests would enter the Church for the celebration itself.
Even if she didn’t show it, Lucia couldn’t stand the anxiety anymore. She couldn’t wait to get off her steed and get closer to her groom, extending her left hand forward, so that he would kiss the hand and hold it into his. But as soon as the white horse set foot in the Square, where the Swabian Emperor was born, it was immediately evident to the bride and all her cohorts that Captain Franciolini was not in his place, under the canopy prepared for this purpose in front of the Church. The Bishop, Cardinal Ghislieri, greeted the young bride with embarrassed arms. It was evident he didn’t know how to report the necessary explanations.
«Duke Della Rovere’s men... Yes, they were the Duke Della Rovere’s men who presented themselves a moment ago. They exchanged a few words with the Marquis and put a sealed envelope in his hand. He read it in the blink of an eye and then, without uttering a word, jumped on his horse and went off on a great career behind those men. Before disappearing, he turned around and shouted, “Excuse me with the Countess, but my person is urgently needed in Mantua!”»
CHAPTER 2
The fortress of the princes of Carpegna was a safe refuge, thanks to the inaccessibility of the place, perched as it was on a rocky spur, overlooking a village of a few houses on Mount Carpegnia. A couple of months ago in the memorable 27th March 1523, the day when Andrea had been seriously injured during a chivalric tournament by the vile Masio from Cingoli. It was obvious Maso was jealous of his position and hoped for his death, or at least for a serious disability, to get himself in the good graces of the Duke Della Rovere. And he had tried every way he could, but it had gone wrong. Andrea had only learned later that on the same day, on 27 March, Pope Adrian VI had signed the bull that legalized the position of Francesco Maria Della Rovere, confirming in his favour all the individual concessions made by the previous popes and annulling the sentence of Leo X, who assigned the territories of Urbino and Montefeltro to the Medici. The Duke had been reinstated in his position, and his territories had been returned to him, for the annual census of 1340 florins for the Duchy of Urbino, 750 for the city of Pesaro and 100 for Senigallia. Only San Leo and Maiolo, where between January and February 1523 the troops of Giovanni De’ Medici, better known as Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, remained under the rule of the Medici, acting as a buffer between the Feltre and Medici lands.
Andrea had recovered in a very slow way, either because of the serious loss of blood suffered, and because he had been offended again an arm already injured during the sack of Jesi. He had hoped, opening his eyes again after days of agony, to find his beloved Lucia next to him, as happened when he had been injured years before. Instead, the only presence that he felt was a Franciscan friar, who was busy with decoctions and implants, of which Andrea was sure that he ignored the healing properties. Perhaps he had been instructed in this way by the Countess Baldeschi who, not being able to remain beside him, had entrusted his remedies to the friar. In fact, the unmistakable image of Lucia’s eyes, glimpsed through the visor of a concealed visor before losing consciousness, remained printed in his mind. But was he sure? Or was it only his imagination making him to believe it? Yes, the imagination of a person wearing the fear of death, which made him misrepresent reality in favour of concepts benevolent to him. Either way, no matter what happened, he was better off now. His shoulder continued to give him excruciating pain, but it was time to fully recover and the first thing to think about was revenge against Masio. Revenge is a dish best savoured cold. And he had had plenty of time to think about what to do.
He was regaining his strength little by little, and the high plateaus of Mount Carpegna were ideal for quiet and restful rides. There was no danger of ambushes, as the horizon completely uncovered did not allow anyone to sneak in. Therefore, in order to restore the spirit and muscles, Andrea used to saddle a mild mount early in the morning and go out into the pure, crisp air that only the mountain could offer. Every day he felt stronger and more confident, even if his shoulder was still sore. But he clenched his teeth, tried to resist as if nothing had happened, and soon the pains disappeared like snow in the sun. He wished to be healthy again, to reach his beloved and his city as soon as possible, to fulfil his promise of marriage, but also to take over the government of his city. And by virtue of what had been granted him by the Duke Della Rovere, he could demand all this in his own right. He was no longer the simple son of a merchant, however much his captain was appointed by the people of Jesi. Now he was noble, he was a Marquis, with a lot of lands, even if rough mountain lands, and moreover he was in the graces of the Duke of Urbino. Of course, he owed obedience to the latter, but he felt he could return to Jesi in full autonomy. Despite being immersed in these thoughts, he could not help but notice in the distance the cloud of dust raised by a handful of men on horseback coming up along the dirt road leading to the fortress.
He heard in the distance the calls of the sentries from the stands. Although the voices did not seem alarmed, there was a cannon shot warning of the arrival of a potential enemy. Then, the ringing of the bells made Andrea understand that there was no danger, that those men approaching were not in combat gear. When the group began to stand out better, he noticed a horseman with the proudest bearing, on a steed that surpassed all the other railroads in height, ridden by light armour. The colours were that of the Medici.
Giovanni De’ Medici, Andrea said to himself, the famous and notorious Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, or better Ludovico di Giovanni De’ Medici, officially repudiated by his family as the illegitimate son of Giovanni il Popolano, but still strongly tied to it. Why would he have gone so far? Would he have known of my presence? Has he come to challenge me? Will he want to take back the territories of the upper Montefeltro on behalf of his family?
The unexpected arrival worried Andrea a little, also because in a possible clash with the Medici thugs he would have had only a few men in the service of the Counts of Carpegna. And they were little compared to the fame that accompanied the soldiers of fortune of Captain Giovanni dalle Bande Nere. He turned towards the fortress, thinking it was better to confer with the Medici within safe walls and flanked by men he trusted, when he saw that the Counts Carpegna, the brothers Piero and Bono, had gone out of great career and were riding towards him to bring him help. Sure of being protected, he turned towards potential enemies, who had by then come a short distance away from him. Andrea put his hand to the hilt of the sword, secured to the saddle of his mount, clutching it, ready to unseat it at any hint of hostility from the new arrivals. The man famous for his Black Bands raised one arm, signalling his retinue to stop, then with a leap he got off his horse and approached on foot, keeping his arms wide and raised. The gesture was evident and Andrea relaxed, taking his hand off the weapon and getting off the horse in turn. When he was a few steps away from him, the man expressed himself in a deep reverence. Andrea watched him, squeezed him from head to toe, trying to understand why this apparently so mild person had been associated with the reputation of a ruthless warrior. He was a young man, he was about twenty-five years old, his face adorned with a manicured beard, not too long. The hair, dark and cut short, was evident because the captain was not wearing any kind of concealment, and was the outline of a round face with a serene air. The man was not even tall, seen from the ground. He was probably trying to ride tall, mighty animals to overpower those around him. He wore a scorched earth coloured doublet, with the five red balls and the three-pointed lily embroidered on the front, to symbolize loyalty to his family of origin.
«It’s an honour for me to see you here, sir», Andrea said, in turn sketching a bow as a greeting, anxious to know the reason for the unexpected visit. «Now then, may I know what prompted you to move from the stronghold of San Leo, your undisputed bulwark, to the Mount Carpegna, which represents for you a treacherous ground full of perils?»
Giovanni mocked himself and widened his mouth in a smile, then Andrea saw him get closer to him, until he put his hand on his shoulder, almost in a gesture of friendship. From him? From someone he considered an enemy? Did he have to expect to fall into some kind of trap? There was little to trust. Andrea stiffened and the other one lowered his arm, then he started talking.
«I bring good news for you, maybe a little less for me» the Medici said. «The Duke of Urbino has agreed with the new Pope, and...»
«You’re telling me things I already know. The deal with Adrian VI happened two months ago!»
A smile was printed on the lips of the interlocutor again.
«Don’t interrupt me, let me finish. I’m not talking about the Pope who, I think for a little while longer, sits on the papal throne. I speak of the Bishop of Florence, of Julius De’ Medici, who will soon take his rightful place. There are rumours that Adriano Florensz is in very poor health and has a short life. If the good Lord does not call him back to his side, he will have to renounce the office soon. And the papacy will return again to the house of Medici.»
«And you are here to make me believe that my lord, the Duke Della Rovere, who has always been a bitter enemy of the house to which you belong, has already made a secret agreement with the Bishop of Florence, even before having the certainty that he will be elected to the papal throne! Do you think me stupid?»
«Trust me! To show my good faith, I have brought you a gift, which I’m sure will please you.»
With a snap of his fingers, Giovanni beckoned to approach one of the remaining thugs... The latter jumped to the ground and went to lay a large wicker basket next to his lord. Then he bowed in reverence and retraced his steps. The tension could be cut with the knife. Everyone remained silent, even the Counts of Carpegna had stopped at a respectful distance and were waiting for how the events would unfold. The only noise that could be heard was the withering of the banners, which were stretched out under the wind. Giovanni opened the basket and grabbed the macabre contents, showing it to Andrea. A head cut off cleanly from his neck, still dripping blood, his hair entangled between the fingers of the man whose outstretched arm was waving it proudly under his nose. Andrea barely held back a gagging gag, but he recognized to whom that sort of trophy had belonged in life.
«Your worst enemy, Messer Franciolini! Masio da Cingoli. As you can see, I’ve taken the trouble to make sure he doesn’t bother you anymore. You should be grateful!»
«To tell you the truth, I had other intentions about him. I was going to describe the facts to the Duke Della Rovere, in a letter whose contents I already had in mind, calling for a fair trial for this little good. The last of my wishes was to kill him without the intervention of justice. If I had done so, I would have put myself in his shoes. Let it never be said that the Marquis Franciolini is a coward!»
«You could have always challenged him to a duel, but since someone else thought of him, you had saved your honour and you can certainly consider yourself satisfied», and so saying Giovanni dalle Bande Nere threw Masio’s head with contempt on the ground, near Andrea’s feet, resuming his speech immediately, before the latter had a chance to reply. «But there is more, and this is the good news for you. My troops and I are leaving San Leo. Given the terms of the alliance between the Medici and Duke Della Rovere, there is nothing more to fear in these parts. In the coming days, the communities of San Leo and Maiolo will fall under your jurisdiction. Our presence is instead claimed in Brescia. It seems that the Lansquenets have moved from Bolzano and press on the gates of this city. The Gonzaga on the one hand and the Visconti-Sforza on the other, feel themselves in danger, being the bulk of the Venetian forces at the moment engaged in Dalmatia to repel the attacks of the Ottomans. Della Rovere, alone, was unable to stand up to those gangs of bad soldiers, and no one wanted the army of Charles V of Hapsburg to come behind them and threaten cities like Milan, Florence or, worse, Rome. My soldiers of fortune are needed, and our common friend, Francesco Maria, has understood this well!»
If I were not in these conditions, surely the Duke would have summoned me and my men to fight at his side, rather than this bloodthirsty angel-faced man, Andrea said to himself, beware of expressing this thought. But, at the end of the day, perhaps it is better now. Away the Medici, these territories are quiet at the moment and I will be able, as soon as possible, to return to Jesi and marry the Countess Lucia.
He took one last look at Masio’s head, took pity on it, picked it up and put it back inside the basket, closing it with the lid, then turned to Giovanni.
«I am happy for you, Sir Ludovico», and he remarked the voice on this name, aware of how unwelcome it was for the person in front of him to be so called. «I thank you for everything and I wish you good luck.»
Having said this, he turned around, jumped on the horse, reached Piero and Bono, who had remained silent spectators until that moment, and started again at their side towards the fortress, spurring the horse at a fast pace.
«A boaster, there’s nothing to say!», Piero from Carpegna said.
«Yeah!» Bono replied.
«Forget it», Andrea intervened. «He won’t bother us anymore, and that’s what’s important. Rather, retrieve the basket with Masio’s head. I want him to be given a decent burial. I really can’t stand that someone took the trouble to do justice for me, and I don’t want it to be said that I accepted with pleasure the summary execution of that coward. Coward when he was alive and coward remains. But I am no equal to him!»
«And it’s true!», Piero replied again. «You have a noble and generous soul, and we all appreciate it. We’ll provide Masio’s mortal remains are settled. In fact, we’ll also send someone to look for the rest of the body, after Giovanni dalle Bande Nere has left San Leo.»
CHAPTER 3
Eleonora was so beautiful. Her naked body, half-abandoned on the bed, beaded with sweat, reflected the flames of the fireplace, taking on her an amber colour, which revived again Francesco Maria’s desire. Making love with his wife was much more satisfying than making it with a maid or, worse, with a slut. He reached out his hand and grazed her nipple. He felt it rise up under the delicate touch, then he saw Eleonora move, wake up from the torpor and lean towards him again. The mouths joined in a long kiss. A meeting of lips, of tongues, of naked bodies burning to unite again, in a weave of long hair, her blonde hair, his dark hair. Before penetrating his wife again, the Duke put his dark, almost black, eyes into her sea-blue eyes.
«I love you», he whispered to her, realizing those two words, apparently so simple and obvious, would not be uttered in the presence of any other woman. In response, Eleonora took his face in her warm hands, caressed his rough beard, and accompanied him to lie on his back on the linen sheets. Then she sat astride him, sliding his swollen member between her thighs. Francesco Maria was in ecstasy. He loved she took the initiative. He watched Eleonora from below swinging above him, in an ever tightening crescendo of swinging movements, in an ever faster and more pressing rhythm. Drops of sweat, from her forehead, came to rasp his chest, his cheeks, his forehead. He pushed his warrior’s hands along the flanks of his indomitable filly, until they reached her breasts, to start caressing them in a circular motion. He felt Eleonora get even more excited, her gasping breath turn almost into a cry of pleasure. He realized that he could no longer hold back and flooded the belly of his woman who, having reached orgasm, shouted even louder, then stopped and fell on top of him, making sure that his member still did not leave the coils of her womb. Francesco sighed, satiated with the night of love, waited for the erection to slowly come to an end, then gently moved the helpless female body. He knew well that after the third intercourse, Eleonora fell deeply asleep. He made sure that her breathing was regular, covered her naked body with a sheet, and got out of bed, putting on his stockings. He brought a couple of grapes of sweet white grapes to his mouth and then, thoughtful, he approached the window admiring the silvery reflections of the moon on the lake waters. For some months he was a guest in the Scaliger castle of Sirmione, a castle surrounded by water on all four sides and built in a strategic position, on the southern shore of Lake Garda, by the Lords of Verona, precisely to counter the fearsome enemies who invariably descended from the Alps, along the valley of the river Adige. And in that period the enemy was even more fearsome, because instead of being a regular army, it was made up of bloody bands of Germans, who were called Lansquenets, and who fought to the advantage of the Emperor Charles V of Habsburg, but they did it in their own way. The waters of the lake were calm on that mid-November night and the surrounding landscape, illuminated by the moon and overlooked by the silhouettes of the mountains, was truly impressive. From the window, Francesco Maria could look out onto the dock below, a large square shaped like an irregular square, bordered by the castle walls and invaded by the waters of the lake. Through an opening in the walls, boats of a certain size could find safe shelter inside. The dock was the station for the Scaligera fleet, a fleet that would hardly have seen the open sea, considering the lake had no navigable emissaries communicating with the shores of the Adriatic Sea. Only through a series of complicated manoeuvres along artificial water channels and flooded fields could boats be transferred to the large dock at the Armed Citadel of the city of Mantua. From here, through the Mincio, it was possible to easily reach the great river Po, the ancient Eridano, and finally sail towards the Venetian territories and the Adriatic Sea.
Looking beyond the walls, Francesco Maria, at the moment, could only observe placid waters, dotted here and there with hulls, and mountainous ramparts, whose peaks had already begun to cover themselves with the first snow. But the enemy could appear suddenly, from one moment to the next, and the Duke was not happy his wife Eleonora and her retinue were there. Yes, on the one hand he was happy to be able to enjoy her company and the love encounters like the one that had just ended, but on the other he feared for her safety. It had been almost twenty years since they had married. Of course, they were only two fifteen-year-old boys at the time of the marriage, a political marriage that had strengthened the alliance between the Urbino and Mantua’s families, but there were very few opportunities to be together. She in Mantua, at the Gonzaga court, and him in the Marche to fight and fight and fight. The first son, Guidobaldo, who was now nine years old, had arrived almost two decades after his wedding day, and those last two months had been the first real period in which Francesco Maria had been able to enjoy his closeness. Since the family was reunited, one could also think of considering a few more children, perhaps a few girls, in order to take anything away from his first-born Guidobaldo. But it seemed that, despite the frequent love encounters of recent times, Eleonora did not seem to getting pregnant. Was she too old to procreate anymore? But no! She was thirty-three years old, she was no longer a little girl, but she was certainly still of childbearing age. In all of this, his heart suggested on the one hand to keep his wife close to him, in order to enjoy her love and her presence, and on the other to send her back to Mantua to protect her from the horrors of a possible battle against the infamous Lansquenets. Moreover, in those very days, news had arrived of the death of Pope Adriano VI, who had been promptly replaced on the papal throne by Giulio De’ Medici, with the name of Clemente VII. It wasn’t certainly an unexpected event. Francesco Maria had foreseen this and his emissaries had worked to make pacts with the Medici, even before he had been elected Pope. But what worried him, and for which he could not sleep at night, not even after a satisfying meeting with the beautiful Eleonora, was how Charles V would react to the new situation. He would have moved, certainly he would have moved on several fronts, in an official way against the France of Francis I Valoise, against his usual enemy, in a less official way by making the Lansquenets spread in Northern Italy in order to subjugate Milan and aim at Florence and Rome, to reunite all the Italian territories, besides those already owned by Naples, Sicily and Sardinia, under the only imperial crown. It would not have been easy to prevent the Germanic army, once paved the way by the Lansquenets, to reach Rome, put it to fire and sword and finally reach the city of Naples, ally of Charles V. It was only to be hoped in the courage and resourcefulness of Giovanni Ludovico De’ Medici. And of his man, who was anxiously waiting day by day for his trusty Marquis of Alto Montefeltro. To interrupt the flow of Francesco Maria’s thoughts was the sighting of the silhouette of an enormous boat, flying the flag of the Serenissima Republic
, that from the waters of the lake demanded the opening of the access door to the dock. While the guards, from the patrol walkway, put in place the series of complicated manoeuvres that would allow the opening of the door, the Duke realized that, next to the banner depicting the lion of St. Mark, lying and with the classic open book between his legs, there was another smaller one on which stood a rampant lion crowned. It was thanks to the moonbeams that he was able to distinguish the designs of the flags even in the darkness of the night. His heart was finally more relieved. That flag was the signal he had agreed with his men. Marquis Franciolino Franciolini, or rather, his most trusted Captain of Arms, Andrea Franciolini from Jesi, was coming. With his heart in his throat, he finished dressing and hurried down the stairs, to reach a large salon and lay in impatient anticipation. Once the docking manoeuvres were over, whoever got off the boats had to enter that room. The Duke called some servants, who provided to set the table in order to welcome the new arrivals. Even if the time was late, after a long journey, finding refreshments was certainly appreciated by everyone.
The first to disembark were the servants, who provided to stack on the pier trunks and personal belongings of the noble warriors who had accompanied in navigation. The servants of the castle rushed out, both to transfer the luggage of each one in the rooms already assigned to them, and to direct the newly disembarked servants to the wings of the castle reserved for them, so that they could refresh themselves, rest and, if they wanted, take advantage of the company of some tramp. Immediately afterwards the sailors went ashore, who were soon directed to the openings that gave access to the town of Sirmione, on the southern side of the walls of the dock. They couldn’t wait to reach the taverns, to feast, drink wine and lure some beautiful villagers. The women of the Venetian and Lombard lands were in fact renowned throughout the peninsula for being passionate and always available lovers. And then they spoke with that singing idiom that would open the heart even to the most gruff of sailors. And all for a few coins, much less than what one was accustomed to pay in other areas for the sexual favours of certain damsels.
The last to get off the big boat were the noble warriors, each escorted by his own attendants. One after the other, they crossed the threshold of the large saloon where they were welcomed by the Duke Della Rovere, who invited them to bid farewell to their subordinates and sit at the table set. Soon it would be a feast, the food would certainly not be lacking and the wine would be flowing. At a nod from the Duke, some handmaids with colourful transparent dresses, which left nothing to the imagination, began to dance sinuously on one side of the room, to the rhythm of a lullaby reminiscent of exotic atmospheres. Women took prisoners and made slaves during the campaigns of the Serenissima against the Ottoman Empire. Women who came from the lands of the Near East and who knew how to make their bellies dance independently from the rest of the body. At a second nod of the Duke, the girls got rid of the coloured tunics and kept wearing only tiny costumes to cover breasts and pubis. The music changed and the young maids, one more beautiful than the other, one more sensual than the other, began to perform the provocative belly dance. In the meantime, the servants poured over the sumptuous table all sorts of things, from hare pies to roast wild boar, from sweet-and-sour game to jugged rabbits, from vegetables of various colours to chicken and beef broths flavoured with spices. The jugs of wine did not have time to make their appearance on the table that already had to be replaced with other full.
Francesco Maria reviewed the faces of his guests. The Duke of Orvieto, with a chicken leg in his hand and a mug of wine in the other, had already approached one of the dancers, throwing kisses with greasy lips towards her. That one, for all answer, had got rid of the upper part of the costume and had remained bare-breasted, continuing the dance in an even more provocative way. The Marquis of Villamarina, for his part, had sat down at the table, with the serious intention of eating and drinking to his heart’s content, almost without regard to the dance performance. But he shook his head to the rhythm of the music. Messer Vittorio dei Gherardeschi, Count of Hunting and Lord of the lands of Polverigi, looked around a little lost, as if everything that was happening in the salon did not concern him at all. He approached Francesco Maria, greeted him with respect and asked to be accompanied to his lodgings, as he was very tired and wanted to rest. The Duke Della Rovere had scrutinized everyone, but had not yet been able to locate Andrea. The latter, in a completely unexpected way, entered at a certain point in the hall from the opposite entrance to the one from which all the others had entered, the one used by those who came from the mainland, from the town of Sirmione. Andrea appeared tried, he was very pale and had dark circles around his eyes.
«My God, Andrea! It seems that ships are your worst enemy!», and so saying Francesco Maria approached his friend, holding him in an affectionate embrace. «Luckily I have other plans for you, and tomorrow we will talk about it in all tranquillity. Now have a seat and enjoy my hospitality to the full. You will be able to restore body and spirit, and tomorrow you will feel like another man!»
He saw Andrea looking around, admiring the table set, casting his eyes on the oriental dancers who, now almost all with their breasts uncovered, some even completely naked, were indulging in the repressed desires of noble warriors. Then the young Captain of arms approached the table, picked some olives in brine, drank a glass of wine and expressed the desire to leave.
«Tell me about the trip, Andrea! How come you got off the ship and came here from land?», Francesco tried to hold him back.
«My dear friend, you said it yourself a little while ago. We will talk about it calmly tomorrow. Now I am very tired and I only wish to retire to rest.»
«Do you want me to send you company in your room? Those exotic beauties are capable of resurrecting a corpse!»
«But not me. At this moment I would not be able to touch a woman, other than my betrothed, even with one finger. Pretend I’m accepting your offer and take the girl in your room.»
Francesco Maria burst into laughter.
«I cannot! In my rooms there is already Eleonora. I too, these days, am not able to touch any other woman who is not my beloved.»
CHAPTER 4
“Everyone is what he pursues.
I am what I am, I am what I love,
I love what I am.”
(Elio Savelli)
Andrea still could not understand why he had followed the Duke’s men without blinking an eye, just moments before the wedding ceremony with his beloved Lucia. His powerful white steed, still dressed for a party, was biting the road, without struggling at all to keep up with the armigers who were heading beyond the Esino river, towards Mount Returri. The ride was easy, without trappings, without even hiding it on the head. The thick blonde hair of Andrea caressed the air fluttering. The sleeves of the crimson doublet swelled and deflated at the whims of the wind. But Andrea’s mind was in turmoil. Thoughts incapable of being held in check crowded into his head and overwhelmed his temples, hoping to be taken into consideration.
«You have always pursued the hope of being able to unite in marriage with Lucia. And now the time had finally come, what do you do? You leave her there, on the churchyard of the Church!», the first thought began to torture him. «Remember, Andrea! Everyone is what he pursues in life! Not to reach one’s goals means to fail miserably.»
«I am what I am!», Andrea defended himself against himself. «I love to be what I am. And I am a man of arms, and as such I must obey those who command me. So I made the right choice. One cannot shirk one’s duty because of a damsel.»
«You love what you are, but you are also what you love», a second thought replied to him, without giving him a break, in an incredible play on words. «And who you love is Lucia. With her you should be one body and one soul. What difference was there in following these men now, immediately, rather than tomorrow, or tomorrow the other or in a week’s time? And your little girl, Laura, to whom you gave smiles until this morning, making her understand that now she could trust the affection of a father, what will she think of you? That you’re a coward, that you escape love and affection depending on how the wind turns. Was it not licit to at least explain to her why you are leaving?»
«I'm not a pussy, I’m a Captain of Arms!», Andrea’s warrior spirit replied with vigour. «If these men were in a great hurry to take me with them, there must be a reason, and a very serious one, from what I could read in the letter sent to me by the Duke. A warrior does not shirk his duty. Never! Much less for matters of love. Love can wait, the enemy can’t.»
Immersed in these mental disquisitions, Andrea had not even noticed that, having passed the watchtower at the top of Mount Returri, the group of soldiers he was following, having crossed the short village of Santa Maria delle Ripe, was heading, in a fast descent, towards the valley of the Musone River. He silenced all his thoughts and concentrated on the route. If they had to head towards Mantua, the road to follow was certainly not the one, which bent towards the south. Logic would have wanted that one covered the road Fiammenga up to Montemarciano and then went up again along the Adriatic coast, up to Ravenna, to then bend towards Ferrara. And from there reach Mantua in an easy way, without any difficulty. The road they were driving along led straight to the Swabian Castle of the Seaport, south of the mountain of Ancona, between the mouth of the Musone river and the one of the Potenza river. A castle built by Frederick II to defend and bulwark of an important port in which could station the Ghibelline fleet. To the only thought of the sea, Andrea had a gagging.
And soon, in fact, the valley of the Musone widened towards the Adriatic Sea. The imposing basilica of Loreto, dedicated to the cult of the Virgin Mary and protected by mighty ramparts were on their right, high on the hill, while Andrea and his companions followed a wide road for a few leagues, arriving in view of their destination. The outline of the Swabian castle, with its imposing donjon towering towards the sky, approached quickly. The sun was now setting towards the horizon and, putting the horses in step, you could hear the sound of the backwash and smell the salty smell brought by the wind. The sunset set the sky on fire in a bright red, fading into shades of orange where the sun was hiding behind the horizon line, marked by the mountains of the Apennines. Scenes and colours that would have infused the feeling of nostalgia in the heart of any person, let alone in that of Andrea, already in turmoil for the whole story he was living. He would have wanted to turn the horse around and run back to Jesi, to his beloved, to his home, to his affections. But once again, the nitrites of the horses and the cries of the armigers brought him back to reality. They were in front of the main entrance of the castle, in a large quadrangular clearing that, on the opposite side, opened towards the sea. While his escorts were shouting to the guards in the stands, to be recognized and to lower the drawbridge, Andrea looked at the port. The sea was calm, flat, almost a table. Some stars were already shining in the sky, a sky that was taking on the tones of turquoise and that would soon become much darker, wrapping things and people in the black cloak of the night. The silhouette of a huge boat, a three-masted sheep, caught Andrea’s attention. In his life he had never seen such a large vessel. And the fear that the next day he would have to climb on it gripped his heart. On the highest tree, the central one, waved the banner of the Serenissima Republic, a laying lion, the lion of St. Mark, with an open book, the Holy Gospel, between the front legs. When the drawbridge was descended and the huge doors of the portal opened, the captain of the castle guard went out and approached Andrea, handing him a folded banner. He bent to his address in an obsequious bow and handed him the banner.
Andrea got down from his horse, nodded to the Captain to lift himself from the reverent position and took the object from his hands. He unfolded the drape, in which, on a red cloth background, had been made, at the end of the embroidery, the golden design of a rampant lion adorned with the royal crown on his head.
«My Lord, Marquis Franciolino Franciolini, you’ll fight under the sign of the lion!», the lieutenant began to profess. «Tomorrow morning you will deliver this banner to the ship’s crew, who will hoist it on the flagpole, beside the flag of the Serenissima Republic. The Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere gave precise dispositions. The rampant lion, the symbol of your city, but also of Frederick II of Swabia, who granted in his time to adorn it with the imperial crown, will be the symbol of your strength and your authority.»
The Scroll was interrupted and he had a parchment delivered by another soldier, who had remained behind him, a short distance away.
«Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere appoints you, as written in this parchment, Grand Lion of the Bailiff, a title that gives you great powers and the possibility, indeed the duty, to accompany the Venetian commander on the bridge of the combat galleon.»
So saying, he rolled the parchment and delivered it in Andrea’s hands.
«Tomorrow morning at dawn you will board with your men and deliver the credentials to the “Capitano da Mar”
Tommaso de’ Foscari. Two lions and two captains of arms will be united against common enemies, on one side the Turks of Sultan Sèlim, on the other side the Lansquenets. The Duke Della Rovere trusts you will hold high the honour due to your flag and to the one of the Serenissima Republic, our ally. And now, my Lord, allow me to lead you to your rooms to call for a deserved rest. Tomorrow morning you will be awakened early, even before sunrise.»
Andrea was confused, he didn’t know what to say, and so he remained silent. Certainly his friend Duke knew how to flatter him with the honours, but in doing so he always found a way to send him to the wreck. The fact of embarking on a ship didn’t please him at all, but by then he had arrived there and he couldn’t back down.
At night he turned and turned around between the sheets, getting little or no sleep. When he sank into sleep, he was assailed by nightmares that reminded him of the only battle fought at sea. Sea and blood, fire and death. And the figure of the Mancino who tormented him, approaching him until he became a giant, who accused him of letting him die among the waves. And he woke up in a bath of sweat, realizing he had slept only for a few moments. When the servant in charge of the alarm clock arrived, he felt almost relieved to be able to get up. It was still dark outside, but from the window he could catch a glimpse of the ship illuminated by the whitish light of an almost full moon. The servant helped him to wear a light armour, consisting of a wire mesh bodice with more compact reinforcements at the shoulders, forearms and neck. Above the armour, a half red and half yellow satin cloak. In the yellow part the design of the lion of San Marco, in the red one the crowned rampant lion.
«These clothes won’t be able to protect me from anything!», Andrea began to complain, with the servant who was helping him in the dressing. «An arrow in chest and goodbye Marquis Franciolini! And what about the stockings? Simple leather pants, without even metal studs for protection. Pass me the helmet, come on!»
«No helmet, my Captain. You’re all good. On board you have to be light, you have to be able to move easily, to run from one side of the galleon to the other and, if necessary, climb trees. An armour like the ones you are used to wearing in land fighting would only be a hindrance. Trust me, my Lord!»
«I trust you, and I also believe that I will not reach Mantua alive. If seasickness won’t kill me, the enemy will do it. I will be an easy target for the Turkish pirates. They will shoot me with arrows and feed on my corpse. Ah, what a fine destiny I’m going to meet, just to please my friend the Duke!»
«You have nothing to fear, my Lord. The galleon is really safe and suitable for resisting any attack by other vessels. And Commander Foscari knows his business. He knows how to govern the vessel and fight at sea like no other in the world. You will see. And now, refresh yourselves. You will need to be strong to face the journey», and so he clapped his hands, letting other servants with trays coming into the room.
The servant who had helped him dress, took a silver chalice and had his hands washed with rosewater. Then he invited him to sit at the table. The other servants placed in front of him, in sequence, three trays. In the first one there were some cups, some filled with donkey milk, some with Sicilian orange juice, others with steaming cow’s milk. A second tray contained sweet food, milk bread, donuts, cookies, marzipan, pinocchiate
