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Roasts of the most varied variety of game, soups, salads and pastas, already in the late afternoon had been arranged on the large table where the guests would take their seats. The Cardinal held Lucia by the hand, while the servants sprayed the roasts, especially the cranes, peacocks and swans, with orange juice and rosewater, in order to make them more appetizing. The beef fillets, once boiled, were completely sprinkled with spices and sugar. Particular attention was paid to the side dishes, vegetables of all types and colours, which more than to be eaten, were used to cheer the eyes of diners and stimulate the appetite. In the soup tureens they showed off soups of various colours. The soups, which were usually served as desserts, had a sweet taste and were seasoned with sugar, saffron, pomegranate seeds and aromatic herbs. The real broth, prepared by boiling a mixture of meat, vegetables and spices in water, was used as a first course, especially in the countryside and in the castles of the peasant nobility. The broth was drunk while the meat, removed from the broth, was eaten separately and served with aromatic herbs. The Cardinal had ordered the cooks not to serve it, while he had instead cooked a novelty, originally from the court of Charles VIII, macaroni, obtained from wheat semolina shaped into vermicelli and seasoned in sauces made with olive oil, butter and cream. The desserts, apple and sponge cake, and fruit, apples, quinces, chestnuts, nuts and berries were placed on two separate tables. The wines in the jugs were those typical of the county, Verdicchio and Malvasìa. Only two jugs contained a red wine, a precious gift given to the Cardinal by the Grand Duke of Portonovo a few years before. On the dessert table, instead, the wine was that of sour cherry, from the countryside of Morro d’Alba.
«The guests will begin to arrive in a moment», said the Cardinal, addressing Lucia, finally freeing her from the grip of his icy hand. The young woman had never been able to understand why her uncle’s hands were always so cold, almost as if blood did not flow under his skin. Not even prolonged contact with her much warmer hand had been able to increase the temperature of Artemio’s. «Let’s go get ready.»
So saying, he retired to his rooms to get dressed in pomp and circumstance, while two young servants approached his niece. They would take her to the toilet, to devote themselves to her, first giving her a perfumed bath, then dressing her, and finally making her wear a sumptuous green silk gown. While she let herself be cared for, Lucia thought back to Andrea Franciolini’s eyes. And already! In those days she had inquired, and the handsome horseman whose eyes she had met only for a moment was her betrothed. And she had fallen in love with his eyes, his face, his poise, it was as if there had always been an alchemical affinity with him. She already felt him part of herself, part of her own soul, her whole body vibrated with the thought that soon she could talk to him, get to know him better, stare into his eyes, that they would certainly hide nothing from her. She looked out the window of the room, but felt a strange sensation: the sky of that long day that was turning into sunset was leaden. A hood of sultriness, of humidity, was gripping the city, instilling in her heart the feeling that something bad was going to happen in the short term, and that this something would also affect her in the long term. But what? She couldn’t understand it, even with her powers of vision. Her uncle’s mind, as usual, had also been hermetically sealed that day, but when she looked into his eyes only one word kept ringing in her head: “Betrayal”. Why? She wanted to make her sphere materialize, to throw it high into the sky so that she could see for her, but she couldn’t do that right now, in front of witnesses. While the tall blonde servant girl finished lacing her dress behind her back, the one with the smallest build and darkest hair made her wear the jewels, necklaces and bracelets of gold and precious stones, of exquisite workmanship, made by the Cardinal especially for her by goldsmiths of the school of Lucagnolo. At that moment, Lucia felt a lack, she felt a twinge in her heart as if someone was piercing it with a dagger, or with a sword. She collapsed in her chair and lost consciousness for a few moments.
«My lady, my lady, how do you feel?» The black maid’s voice came muffled to her ears.
«It’s nothing, it’s just the heat, this cursed heat, and the emotion. I feel better now.»
Lucia hadn’t associated her feeling with what would happen soon afterwards to her beloved Andrea.
Executor of the barbaric aggression of that day was the soldier of Francesco Maria Della Rovere, Duke of Montefeltro and already banner holder of the Church. Since the new Pope, Leo X, had stripped him of his state, he had hired Spanish and Gascon soldiers as mercenaries and, after having plundered many castles devoted to the Pope, he headed towards Jesi, in order to conquer this papal stronghold, with the help of the Ancona’s people led by the Duke of Montacuto and thanks to the secret support of the highest ecclesiastical office of the city, Cardinal Baldeschi. As promised by the Cardinal, the soldier coming from the hills west of Jesi, found Porta St. Florian open, had easy reason of the guards of the Fortino, attacked by surprise, and was soon in Piazza del Mercato, just when the procession of the nobleman Franciolini, coming from Via delle Botteghe, arrived in the same square.
Franciolini and his men were not ready for battle, they were not wearing armour, they were going to a party and only had light weapons with them.
«Betrayal!» said Guglielmo, getting off his horse and facing a Spaniard armed with a short dagger. «Chain the streets, don’t let them go down into the valley, or they’ll open the gates to the army of Ancona, and we’ll be caught between two clamps.»
Only with the strength of his arms and his short dagger, he had already landed two Spaniards, leaving them in a pool of blood. Guglielmo was a skilful fighter, and he was quick to catch the enemy. As soon as he saw his opponent hesitant, he would stick the knife in his heart, then pull it out, clean the blade on his clothes and start fighting again. The enemy vanguards didn’t wear armour and it was easy to be right with them. But the enemies came out of Via del Fortino by the dozens, by the hundreds, like a flooded river whose banks could not hold back the water. A Spanish crossbowman took aim and pointed his weapon at Andrea, who was still proud on his horse. The young man had found himself in the middle of the battle at other times and had not given importance to the fact that at the moment he was not wearing armour, but a colourful brocade suit. He had his steed soaring to the fray when he was hit in the right thigh. Other arrows reached both horse and rider. Andrea fell to the ground, with at least four darts piercing him. His horse, hit in the chest, ruined his heavy body on top of him. He tried, without succeeding, to slip away from the mass of the heavy animal, but the forces were abandoning him. Guglielmo, aware of his son who had landed, turned towards him, distracting himself from the fight and turning his back dangerously on the enemy to come to his aid. He saw Andrea’s eyelids drooping, called out to him, but had no answer. He realized that his cadet was now unconscious, perhaps dying. Just at that moment a long blade pierced him, penetrating from behind his back, making its way between his ribs, cutting through his heart and coming out of his chest, accompanied by a powerful stream of blood. Guglielmo barred the eyes that, at the moment of the passage, were still staring at the brave and agonizing son.
Easily right of that small handful of men, Spaniards and Gascon spread through the streets of the city. Some went up Via delle Botteghe up to the Porta della Rocca, surprising the soldiers on guard, killing them and opening the door. Others went down to the valley to open Porta Valle and Porta Cicerchia and thus facilitate the entrance into the city of the Ancona army, which had been waiting for days for nothing more than that moment. Although taken by surprise, the inhabitants tried to organize a defence inside the town, spurred on by some nobles, in particular by Fiorano Santoni, who immediately gathered a squadron of people who, chained the streets as arranged by the People’s Capitan, prepared to fight the enemy in the streets, alleys and squares. But the latter, strengthened by the contribution of the Ancona’s people, was too numerous and the Jesi’s inhabitants, humbled by the cries and tears of women and children, abandoned the defence.
Above all, the mercenaries in the pay of Francesco Maria Della Rovere were thirsty for pillage and the inhabitants, considering that they had not been able to save their homeland, tried at least to save their property, but even in this they had no success: the rich gentlemen were taken prisoners and their women, who had tried to escape, with their jewels, in the churches, saw themselves reached by the Spaniards even inside the sacred places, where they did not disdain to strip them of what was precious on them and rape them. At a certain point, a woman, Eleonora Carotti, with a haughty and male bearing, managed to slap a Gascon who was placing his hands in her breast to take away the jewels he had hidden there and at the same time take advantage to grope her. She found herself between him and another group of Spanish soldiers. If the slapped Gascon had been astonished, without reacting, the others had not lost heart, they landed the damsel, stripped her of her clothes and, making sure she was a woman to all intents and purposes, had raped her one after the other, holding a knife to her throat. The last soldier, having reached his unhealthy pleasure, sank the knife, cutting her throat mercilessly.
The sacking of Jesi lasted eight days, many palaces were set on fire, some with the inhabitants inside, bound so that they would burn alive inside their homes, guilty that the looters hadn’t found enough money or valuables to take away.
There was no respect even for sacred things, nor for religious people, and many priests were tortured and tortured to confess where they had hidden the church ornaments. The plundering spread to the whole countryside and no place, city or country, was spared.
Baldeschi Palace, which had been barred the whole time, on the eighth day opened its doors to Grand Duke Francesco Maria della Rovere and Duke Berengario of Montacuto, who were welcomed in conversation by the Cardinal. The latter had in fact arrogated to himself the right to negotiate the surrender with his adversaries, being no longer present in the city a higher civil or ecclesial authority than he was.
After the servants had offered wine of cherries and sweets made with sultanas, at the Cardinal’s nod, they withdrew and closed the three men alone in the study.
«You have gone too far. The agreements were that you would find no obstacles and you would have to kill Franciolini and his son, taking over the city. An easy conquest, instead for days and days you sowed terror, destruction and death», thundered the Cardinal addressed to the two Dukes.
«No self-respecting army, especially if made up of mercenaries, renounces the spoils of war», replied Della Rovere in a calm tone, almost bored, concentrating his gaze on the nail of the little finger of his right hand, perhaps regretting the fact that during the fighting this had broken. «We kept our word. Now you keep yours, and we will retire in good order, leaving you the undisputed Lord of this city.»
«So be it!», continued the Baldeschi, swallowing the toad, and still satisfied in his heart of how the operation had gone. If several of our fellow citizens had left us, worse for them, it was no big deal. «As promised, I will intercede with the Holy Father so that you, Grand Duke Della Rovere, may have your lands and title returned. You may retire to Urbino and be respected forever by your subjects. As for Ancona, dear Duke, within a month I shall have ten thousand gold florins poured into the coffers of your city, which will serve to enlarge and fortify the port, but the merchants of the city of Jesi must be guaranteed a commercial port of call. And now, withdraw your armies.»
Francesco Maria Della Rovere finally gave the order to his troops to leave the city. The invaders left with a caravan of a thousand beasts loaded with all God’s goods, as well as a large lot of money, valuables and artillery pieces. For his part, the Montacuto, not fully trusting the word of the Cardinal, withdrew the bulk of the army, but left a garrison in Jesi, which would leave only after the defeated city had paid what was agreed.
In those days, Artemio Baldeschi had been too focused on the course of events, to look after what his sister and niece were doing, and he had not even noticed that the girl had disappeared since that famous Thursday evening. The two maids, the blonde and the brunette, Mira and Pinuccia, who were waiting for the Cardinal’s sure rant the moment he finally noticed her, were well aware of her absence. The two maids knew very well that, from that evening, Lucia was locked up in the Franciolini’s house, intent on curing Andrea, who had been seriously wounded in the clash with the enemy, and they knew very well that if the girl’s uncle found out, he would be even more furious.
On the evening of the party, Lucia, having finished dressing, had gone out onto the balcony of the palace overlooking the square below to watch the procession of the nobleman Franciolini arriving on the opposite side, from Via delle Botteghe. It was dusk and it seemed that everything was going well, that everything was quiet, and the bad feeling she had felt just before had already vanished. But suddenly, from Via del Fortino, more and more armed men had begun to appear, more and more numerous, who had immediately engaged in battle with the men in the procession following the People’s Capitan. He had seen his beloved Andrea struck by arrows, and had seen Guglielmo shot dead from behind. That coward with a huge sword had taken advantage of his moment of distraction, for having seen his wounded son, to hit him from behind. Lucia could not watch helplessly that horror, she had to run to Andrea’s aid, who beyond the arrows, was oppressed by the weight of his horse that was ruined on him, perhaps lifeless. She rushed down the stairs and gained the entrance hall; she was about to open the front door when she realized that the fighting was raging throughout the square and that it was not appropriate to go out of there. She entered the stables and spotted the side service door, the one used by the stable-keepers, which overlooked the alley. The wooden door was bolted with a bolt from the inside, it was easy to open it and find herself in a dark and smelly alley a few meters away from the ancient Roman cistern. A few steps and she would have been in the Piazza, on the side of the church of St. Florian. To avoid being noticed by the crowd of fighters, and cross the square unscathed, he had to use a stratagem. Just a few days earlier, her grandmother had taught her a sort of invisibility spell. Not that it made her invisible in the true sense of the word, but it made her go unnoticed by others. She hoped that it would work, recited the formula and began to cross the square, always keeping close to the walls, first of the convent, then of St. Florian Church, then those of a recently built building, the Ghislieri Palace, arriving at the corner where both Via del Fortino and Via delle Botteghe appeared in the square. If she had arrived there thanks to the spell of invisibility or because no one had taken care of her, so busy in the battle, she was not allowed to know. The fact is that she had come to the square with her agonizing love. As many as four arrows had hit him, two in his right leg, one in his left shoulder, the last one passing through his right arm at the biceps muscle. He had lost a lot of blood, and was in a state of semi-unconsciousness, his left leg crushed against the pavement by the weight of the horse’s torso. Lucia focused on the dead beast, ordering with her mind her partial levitation. The change of position of the animal was almost imperceptible, but it was enough that, starting to pull Andrea by grabbing him under the armpits, the girl managed to free him from that unfortunate position. The young man’s eyes, as if by magic, regained light, staring at the girl’s eyes for a moment that she thought sublime, then turned backwards, while Andrea lost consciousness completely. Lucia did not despair, she placed two fingers on her beloved’s jugular shower and could feel a faint pulse.
All is not lost, she thought. Life hasn’t abandoned him yet! But I must act quickly if I’m to get him to safety.
Trusting in her powers, but also and above all in the power of despair and in the deep love that Andrea’s inspired to her, she began to drag his inert body, realizing that she was not even making a superhuman effort. She extended the spell of invisibility to her young love and headed down the Longobard Coast to reach Franciolini’s Palace. None of the men who were fighting in the street gave them a glance, continuing to cross their weapons and fight as if Lucia, with her heavy burden, did not even exist. When she stood in front of the door of Andrea’s house, she laid her lifeless body on the ground and dwelt once again on the decorated tile that had intrigued her so much, the one representing a seven-pointed pentacle. But it was not the time to let herself be taken by distractions. She grabbed the clapper attached to the door and began to knock with how much strength she still had. One of the servants at Franciolini’s house, a muscular dark-skinned man with a turban on his head, whom the People’s Captain had bought as a slave on one of his trips to Barcelona, opened the door just a crack to make sure that no enemies were knocking at the door. When he realized the situation, in the blink of an eye, he let the girl in and dragged the young master inside.
«By Allah and Muhammad, blessed be their name, may I be forgiven for naming them. What about the Captain?»
«The Captain is dead, and if, instead of wasting time invoking your gods, you don’t do as I say, the same end will be reserved for your young master!»
«There doesn’t seem to be much for him to do. In a few moments his soul will leave him to be reunited with that of his ancestors, and that of his father, may Allah have him in glory.»
«He’s not a Muslim, so Allah will not have him in glory. We can still do something for him. Take him into his room and lay him on his bed, then follow my instructions and leave us alone.»
Chapter 3
Alì did exactly what Lucia ordered him to do. In the pantry he had found all the herbs the girl needed, including willow bark, whose function he was unclear about. It would never be used in the kitchen, yet her owners kept a good supply of it in carefully sealed jars. Only then the Moorish servant had realised that the pantry was more of a herbalist’s shop than a storehouse of edible things. There were those too, yes, but many of the herbs in the jars he knew well were used by Jews and sorcerers for purposes contrary to the teachings of both his religion and Catholicism. After all, the Christian God and the Muslim God were very much alike, and if a man was destined to die, his own God would take him in glory and be happy alongside him. One could not claim to save the life of one who was already destined to join his Almighty Father in the kingdom of heaven. This was what Alì thought, as he crossed the Piazza del Palio and went up the Shepherds’ Coast in great stride, taking care not to run into the scuffles that had spread so far. He stopped in front of the door indicated to him, the one on whose headboard was written “Hic est Gallus Chirurgus”
.
Another sorcerer!, brooded Alì between himself. He calls himself a surgeon, but I know he is the brother of Lodomilla Ruggieri, the witch who burned alive in Piazza della Morte a few years ago. If I don’t pay attention and try to get away from these people, I too will end my days on a burning pile. And even my masters are in it up to their necks, I can only understand now what kind of heretics I have served for years!
Then he realized in his mind that, belonging to another religion, the Inquisition could not prosecute him, and he decided to knock. A tall, sturdy man with mighty biceps, long hair gathered at the back of his neck in a ponytail, and a beard that had not been shaved for a few days, he looked him from top to bottom. Alì was also strong: in his native country, in the upper Nile valley, he was a wrestling champion, there was no one who could beat him, and the man in front of him was unarmed, so he looked at him and told him what he had to tell.
«I see, I’ll get my tools and I’ll follow you. Wait for me here, Franciolini’s palace is a short distance away, but I prefer to make the journey in your company. The two of us could better deal with any troublemakers.»
Gallo disappeared for a few moments inside his house and reappeared with a heavy calfskin bag, which contained the tools of the trade and which, judging by their appearance, must have been very heavy. They crossed the square passing by people who were fighting bitterly. The surgeon recognized a friend of his from Jesi who was shot down with a sword and rushed to help him. But Alì was quick to pull him by the arm and make him give up his intention. It was not really the case to get noticed and engage in a battle that had taken a bad turn for the inhabitants of the city. It was more urgent to rescue his young master... Alì and Gallo quickly slipped into the door of Franciolini’s palace, which the Moor provided to bolt from the inside. He would no longer want to stick his nose out of there even for all the gold in the world, until the fighting had subsided, not knowing that he would soon be forced to leave for an even more dangerous commission than the one he had just completed.
Alì watched Gallo gently extract three arrows from Andrea’s body, while Lucia, at his side, was ready to dab the blood that was spilling as soon as the sharp weapon was extracted, using freshly laundered cloths and applying the herbal poultice that she herself had prepared in the kitchen. The last arrow, the one that went through the young man’s arm from side to side, didn’t want to get out, no matter how hard Gallo pulled.
«Bastards, they used arrows with rostrums, they only go forward, you can’t pull them back. I will have to break the rocker tail and take out the arrow from the front, cutting with the scalpel the skin of the arm at the exit hole, but I will risk to cause a fatal haemorrhage. Are you ready to swab?»
«Yes,» replied Lucia, «I’m ready!»
Alì realized that only the force of despair prevented Lucia from fainting, even though her eyesight and the ferrous smell of blood were probably dulling her senses. Realizing that the girl would not be able to attend Gallo again, Alì took a deep breath and, as soon as the surgeon finished pulling out the arrow, he rushed to stop the copious bleeding. In less than an instant, the rag he was holding in his hand was completely dyed red, and made him feel a very unpleasant slimy sensation to the touch. Alì had never felt anything like it in his life, but he had to be strong. Gallo tore a strip of sheet, tying it tightly around Andrea’s arm, upstream of the wound. The flow of blood slowed.
«We can’t leave the arm so tight for long, or we will lose it and then I will be forced to amputate it because of the gangrene that will surely form. I need a powerful coagulant and healing agent, and the most powerful is human placenta extract. Alì, you have to go to the midwife, she always has dried placenta and...»
«But, the midwife lives outside Porta Valle, it’s too dangerous to go there!»
«Then I guess there will be little we can do for the boy.»
Luckily, Alì knew a passage that, through the cellars of the palace, led outside the walls, near the valley, where a guild of county workers, led by the Giombini family, were building a new mill for milling grain. As he emerged from the little door that opened in the eastern walls, well hidden by a thick bush, he regretted the sight of the mill being built, which had been partially razed to the ground by the fury of the enemy. But he could not dwell on that detail. The semi-destroyed structure offered him shelter from the sight of the a soldier from Ancona, who was continuing to enter the city through Porta Valle. Alì went decisively towards the small church of Saint Eligio, near which Annuccia, the midwife, lived. The midwife, when she saw the Moor, was frightened at the time, thinking that the invaders included the Saracens, then she recognized Alì and let him into the house.
«Are you crazy walking around here? I was about to kill you with this», Annuccia told him, showing the chimney wing she was holding in her hand. «I’m not about to give up and get raped by this rabble!»
«I need help for my Lord, Annuccia. The Captain has been killed by the enemy and the young Lord is wounded and needs urgent care.»
After a few minutes, Alì left the midwife’s house, jealously guarding what the midwife had entrusted to him and for which he had had to pay out as much as three denarii of silver. He returned to the little hidden door , coming back to Franciolini’s Palace, handing over the precious casing to Gallo. The surgeon took the dry placenta, put it into a cauldron of boiling water, added a few herbs, including the rare Devil’s Claw, and within half an hour he obtained a thick, unpleasant smelling poultice, which he placed in a clay pot. Alì took the pot in his hand and followed Gallo to Andrea’s room, where Lucia was cleaning the blood on the young man’s half-naked body. The surgeon trained the rudimentary tourniquet, while the girl applied an abundant layer of poultice to the wound, then wrapping a fairly narrow band, but not too much, around the injured limb. Andrea, in his semi-unconsciousness, made a grimace of grief, which cheered up all those present: he was still alive, and alert, even if very weak.
«I can’t do more than this. The next few days he will need constant assistance, his fever will rise, you will have to cool his forehead with wet patches and let him ingest infusions of willow bark, hoping that he will be able to overcome not only the abundant blood loss, but also the infection that will form. If green pus starts to come out of this wound, you can start to say goodbye to him. If, on the other hand, you see yellow pus, what we surgeons call “bonum et laudabile”, it will mean that he is healing. But you, Lucia, don’t stay here for long: your uncle will soon notice your absence, and then I think you will be in trouble. Train the Moor to assist his young master and return home.»
«May it never be so», replied the young lady. «I will be by his side until he is healed. He is my betrothed and I want to be beside him now.»
«Betrothed, you say? Well, I think it was your uncle’s intention not to let him walk down the aisle. I’m no fortune teller, but I think today’s party was all a farce to get the enemy and death for the People’s Captain and his cadet. Do you realize that now your uncle is the highest religious and political authority in Jesi? Do as you wish, but I don’t think the Cardinal is happy to see you here looking after the cadet of the Franciolini house.»
Gallo picked up his instruments, cleaned them carefully, put them back in his purse, greeted the girl with a smile, and the Moor proclaiming: «Salam Aleikum, peace be with you, brother, and thank you for your precious help.»
«Aleikum as salam, thank you for the precious care you gave my master, I’m sure he’ll be all right.»
«Perhaps out of his wounds», said Gallo, closing the heavy door behind him. «But certainly not from the clutches of Cardinal Artemio Baldeschi.»
Over the next four days, Andrea fell prey to a fever, accompanied by his chills and delusions. Lucia had been close to him the whole time, doing exactly what Gallo had advised her to do and everything she knew about having learned from her grandmother Elena. In his delirium, Andrea often mentioned the witch Lodomilla, talked about the strange symbols drawn in the portal tile together with the seven-pointed pentacle, talked about a Jew who had initiated him to a particular kind of knowledge, sometimes appointed the biblical king Solomon, sometimes one of the wives of Emperor Frederick II, Jolanda of Brienne. She often pronounced, among other confused words, the name of a place, also known to her: Colle del Giogo. That place, which was located in the nearby Apennines a couple of days walk from Jesi, reminded her of the ritual with which, a few months earlier, she had officially joined the sect of witches worshippers of the “Good Goddess”. A few days before the spring equinox, her grandmother had told Lucia to be ready, as on the night of March 21st they would join the other followers of the coven up at Colle del Giogo, in the mountains of Apiro.
«Uncle says they are pagan rites, that most of the followers are heretics and sorcerers to be burned at the stake.» Lucia was a bit afraid, but curiosity outweighed fear. «Don’t you think it’s dangerous to attend this meeting, this Sabbah, as you call it?»
Her grandmother had tightened her shoulders, as if to say that she didn’t give a damn about what her brother thought, and answered her very naturally.
«When we speak of divinities, we speak of supernatural entities, which with their infinite goodness can show us paths to follow, paths that only with our eyes we would never be able to see. Now, if the true God is the Almighty Father proclaimed by your uncle, the Yahweh invoked by the Jew who lives in the little house down by the river, the Allah in which the Muslims believe, the Zeus of the Greeks or the Jupiter of the ancient Romans, where is the difference? Everyone can call God in his own way and receive the same favours, no matter what is the name he use. And if we are men and women here on earth, even in heaven, or in Olympus, or in the garden of Allah, there will be female gods. The one we worship as the “Good Goddess” was known to the Romans as Diana. Look, look at the facade of our palace. Look up: What do you see in a niche between the windows on the top floor?»
«The sacred image of Our Lady, of Mary, of the mother of Jesus, accompanied by the inscription “Posuerunt me custodem”, they placed me in the custody of this dwelling.»
«And so here we venerate Our Lady, the Holy Virgin. But remember that all the places sacred to us who call ourselves Christians, Catholics, were erected over ancient pagan temples, and the ancient divinities were replaced with the new ones. The same cathedral next door was built above the ancient Roman baths, and the location of the crypt corresponds to the location of the temple that the Romans had dedicated to the Goddess Bona, another name for Diana. As you can see, there is much in common between the different religions. In the same place where we will go in a few days, the ancient image of the Good Goddess has been replaced by a statuette of the Madonna, inside a tabernacle. The place is still sacred, and magical, and there is always someone who adorns the image with fresh and colourful lilies. It is our way of continuing to adore the Goddess, even if under the image of Mary, mother of Jesus.»
Lucia believed that her grandmother had a not indifferent culture, perhaps because she had access to the reading of forbidden books, kept in the family library. Perhaps she had been able to draw on the knowledge kept under lock and key by her uncle the Cardinal, perhaps without his knowledge, or perhaps because decades ago, when Elena was still a child, the books could be freely consulted. Then Artemio had arrogated himself the title of Inquisitor and had put under lock and key everything that was contrary to the official Faith. And it had gone well that he had not made a great bonfire of those precious texts, as other illustrious prelates in other cities of Italy and Europe had done.
«I understand, Grandma, the important thing is to believe in the good entity, which loves us and helps us, whatever its name.»
Contrary to what Lucia expected and what she had heard from those who feared the so-called witches, the ritual took place in complete tranquillity. No goat came forward to claim her virginity, nor did any of the participants try to torture her or make her sign oaths with her blood. The path to Colle del Giogo had not been easy. After the Moje lock, the path along the bank of the river Esino was often lost in the bush. Lucia could not understand how her grandmother could not get lost and find the trace of the ancient path even after having groped for several leagues in the woods, without apparent landmarks. At a certain point they had to ford the river and continue uphill along a dirt road that climbed up the hollow dug by a rushing torrent that descended from the mountain. They arrived in Apiro at lunchtime and were hosted by a young married couple, Alberto and Ornella, who offered them black bread and dried venison. The two had a little girl of about three years of age, two big blue eyes and flowing brown curly hair; she played with a rag doll near the fireplace, having fun dressing her in tiny coloured clothes, made of simple pieces of cloth. She seemed don’t care about what her parents were preparing to do, together with the new arrivals, for the evening.
«What are you going to do with the baby?» Elena asked the young couple.
«Oh, that’s all right, at seven o’clock the little girl is already in her strawberry tree. Anyway, we asked our neighbour Isa to come and take a look at her. She’ll do it gladly.»
Lucia, who had always slept in a comfortable bed, couldn’t understand how these people slept in those piles of woven straw.
They’ll be full of fleas! she thought, shuddering at the very idea that the next night she would have to sleep there too. Better dead than lying in one of those things.
The initiation ceremony of the new adept took place according to an ancient ritual. It was late at night when Lucia and her grandmother, in the company of their guests, immersed themselves in the stinging cold of the mountain. The fields were still covered with a light layer of snow and the path was illuminated by the bright disc of the full moon shining huge in the sky, as the girl had never seen before. Going up towards Colle del Giogo, at certain points one could sink into the snow up to the knee and it was tiring to go on, but when they reached the clearing to which they were heading, Lucia was amazed at how the place was almost completely cleared of the white blanket and the lawn was dotted with small and numerous colourful flowers, white, lilac, fuchsia, purple, yellow ...
«They are called snowdrops because they are the first flowers to appear as soon as the snow begins to melt, but their real name is “Crocus” and their dried stigmas can be used both as a condiment in the kitchen and for their medicinal properties.»
«Grandma, why does the temperature in this place seem more pleasant?» asked the curious girl.
«They say this is a magical place, but in reality the temperature is tempered by a hot spring. Here the subsoil is rich in sulphurous springs, which is why the temperature is a little higher. From now on, you will learn that most of the phenomena that ordinary people indicate as “magical” actually have a logical, rational explanation: just know how to look for it. They point us out as witches, but all we do is exploit ancient knowledge and natural phenomena for our own purposes. You see, a legend tells that about three hundred years ago one of the wives of Frederick II, the Emperor of Swabia, came to this remote place to hide something that her husband had told her to jealously guard, because she came from the Holy Land, from Jerusalem. Legends and traditions say that this object was a magic stone, a stone that the archangel Michael would give to Abraham or, perhaps, even the so-called philosopher’s stone that the ancient alchemists were looking for. This is a fairy tale, you’ll know the truth in a moment. And now, let us enter the cave. Let’s not be kept waiting!»
The oldest of the participants was a woman with long grey hair, her face skin wrinkled with wrinkles. She wore a long blue tunic with a golden talisman on top of it at chest height, secured to her neck by a chain also made of gold. He had lit a bonfire inside the cave, occasionally throwing dust into the flames, which from time to time caused a blaze of a different colour, sometimes yellow, sometimes green, sometimes blue, sometimes deep red. For each blaze that illuminated her face, she pronounced strange words, which the others present interpreted by arranging themselves around the bonfire, now holding hands and rotating in circles, now moving away and bowing to the will of the Wise Old Woman, now taking bunches of herbs and throwing them in turn into the fire, now sitting on the ground in complete silence. At one point, the only person left standing was the old teacher. She was holding a large book in her hand, on the cover of which stood out the drawing of a pentacle, just like the one in the family diary that her grandmother had given her some time ago, and the gothic inscription “Clavicula Salomonis”.
«By virtue of the powers conferred on me by this coven, I, Sara of the Bisenzi, welcome novice Lucia Baldeschi into our community. She is the chosen one, the one who will replace me one day and will be destined to lead all of you. Therefore, Lucia, come closer and swear obedience and fidelity to this book, written by the ancient King Solomon in his own hand, and brought here among immense perils by Jolanda, who lost her life once she reached her final goal. It is only thanks to his daughter Anna that the book and its teachings have been handed down to us and, from time to time, one of us has the task of preserving and protecting it.»
So saying, the old woman took off her medallion and gently passed the chain around Lucia’s neck. The golden talisman represented a five-pointed star, the seal of Solomon. The same design was drawn on the ground by the old woman using a pointed rod and the girl was made to stretch out so that her head, her hands at the end of her arms outstretched and her feet at the bottom of her legs apart corresponded exactly to the points of the star. Sara took some olive oil, marking with it in sequence Lucia’s left hand, left foot, right foot, right hand and forehead.
«Water, air, earth, fire: you know how to govern the four elements. They can be invoked and used separately by each one of us, but only your spirit is able to unite them and strengthen their powers and qualities to the maximum. Remember, Lucia! You will use your powers only for good and you will fight, even sacrificing your own life, against anyone who wants to abuse you and your abilities for evil purposes.» Then he poured water on the girl’s left hand, still lying down, blew on her left foot, threw a handful of earth on her right foot and brought a burning stick to her right hand. Finally he kissed her forehead. «And now stand up. Your long journey has begun.»
The initiation ceremony was therefore very simple, not as traumatizing as the girl had feared. The rite had taken place in the manner handed down from ancient times, without constraints, without violence, without the intervention of strange figures resembling goats or other beasts. The Devil was certainly not hidden among the participants in the rite. Lucia was disorientated, but she was beginning to understand many things, which her grandmother would help her to define in the following months. Magic, witchcraft, as she had conceived it up to that moment, did not exist. Her grandmother would explain to her what the frontiers of human thought were, how each individual was endowed with enormous potential linked to the use of the same, but that only someone was able to perform certain functions, both by innate ability and through exercise. But then, Lucia asked herself, was the floating sphere that materialized in her hands pure fruit of her imagination, of her suggestion? Yet she was able to visualize it! Yes, but only she, the others couldn’t see it. Anyway, he had experienced its devastating effects by throwing a fireball at that little girl, Elisabetta, who had found herself surrounded by flames. And she could read the thoughts of those in front of her, and she could hear the voices of the spirits, and she could predict the future somehow. How did she explain all this?
«There’s a rational explanation for everything», Grandma told her one night in front of the burning fireplace. «Some of our followers, in the light of what had already been done in the past by ancient scholars, some of whose texts escaped the fires of the ecclesiastical authorities, opened the skulls of corpses of men and women to study their contents, their brains. The surface of our brain is not smooth, but it has many folds, which are called “circumvolutions” by anatomy scholars and which are able to increase by many times the useful surface of this important organ of ours. It is not the heart, as everyone says, the seat of our feelings, but the brain is their repository. As well as all our memories, near and far, are set aside here. It is the brain that allows us to recognize sounds, colours, smells, makes us associate objects with a name, makes us learn the symbols of writing so that the most intelligent people, or the luckiest if you like, are able to read, write and count. It is also the brain that sends dreams to our eyes while we rest. And if all this already seems like a lot to you, know that a very small part of the brain surface is used for all this. The rest is enormous potential, but unknown to most people. Thus, those who manage to train the unused areas of their brain can perform activities that ordinary mortals don’t even dream about. And here you can hear speech spoken in one place even in ancient times. Every word spoken leaves its trace in the air, nothing is lost. If you can pick up these speeches, these words, it’s not that you’re talking to spirits, you can’t talk to people who have been missing for months, or years, or centuries, but you can listen to what they said even a long time ago.»
«What about foreknowledge?»
«That’s a little more complicated, but even here some scholars have speculated that those who predict the future will pick up the brain waves of someone who is already planning to act. That’s why prescience is limited to the short term, and it’s not possible to predict the future in the long term. Whoever claims to be able to do that is a charlatan!»
«What about being able to move objects, levitate them, or turn on a lamp with the power of thought?»
«Well, even these are potentials of the human brain unknown to most individuals. By exercising and training the areas of the brain that are able to use the elements around us to our advantage, we are able to do anything. We are accustomed to using the five senses that we know, sight, touch, hearing, taste and smell, without even imagining what the actual power of our brain is. The ancients knew very well how to use certain powers, so that they could build enormous works without the slightest effort. You see, the Romans, when they came to conquer Egypt, couldn’t explain how the Egyptians, long before their arrival, had built colossal works, such as the pyramids and the sphinx. The enormous blocks of stone with which they had been built could not be moved even by hundreds of slaves working together.»
«You mean to say that...»
«I don’t want to say anything. You draw your own conclusions.»
Lucia was more fascinated by her grandmother’s speeches every day, but she was even more interested in curing illnesses with herbs. During the spring, she went several times with her grandmother Elena to Colle del Giogo, but also to the countryside and woods around Jesi to collect medicinal herbs. Each time her grandmother explained to her the properties and use of a certain herb: Henbane, Turpentine, Licorice, and the dangerous Belladonna. Elena had promised Lucia that, starting from late summer and for all the following autumn, she would teach her how to recognize mushrooms, how to distinguish between edible and poisonous ones, how to prevent and treat intoxications due to the latter, and how to use the spores of certain mushrooms on infected wounds. But in those last days of spring, the course of history had taken her to assist the young Franciolini, wounded by the enemies of the city.
It had been more than ten days since Lucia was busy around Andrea’s bedside when the boy regained consciousness. He opened his eyes and Lucia felt immediately observed in a strange way. She read in those eyes the bewilderment of the young man, who perhaps believed he was already dead, that he had reached heaven and that he had an angel at his disposal to take care of him. Certainly, he was a nobleman and, as he had servants on Earth, his head certainly led him to think that he would have servants there in Paradise too. But then, little by little, Lucia realized that Andrea was beginning to recognize the walls, furniture and ornaments of his room.
«Who are you, taking care of me, without even knowing you? And what happened to the rest of my family? And my servants? Where’s Ali? Damn that miserable Turk! When he’s needed, he’s always able to disappear, maybe you’ll find him with his ass in the air praying to his God...», Andrea began to say, with his cheeks inflamed with fever, shaking so much that a convulsive coughing fit managed to interrupt his speech in half. Lucia took the hand of the young man among her own, trying to calm him and, at the same time, enjoying that physical contact.
«You must be quiet, or you will plunge back into unconsciousness and feverish delirium. And you must not rage against Alì. Only thank to him, you’d already be in the ground! As for me... Well, I would be Lucia Baldeschi, your betrothed.» In uttering these words, a slight redness took hold of the girl’s cheeks, which could then sink her hazel eyes into the young man’s blue, magnetic eyes, which attracted her face, her lips all over her body to him.
«I did not imagine that the Cardinal would want to reserve such a gift for me. But you are not lying to me? The enemy overwhelmed us just before we reached the Cardinal’s palace, and I believe he is no stranger to ambush!» With the force of anger, he pulled himself up a little, and Lucia hastened to place the pillows behind his back to help him sustain himself. «I should have guessed it was a trick, nothing but a political marriage! Your uncle made arrangements with his enemies, to kill my father, me, disperse my family and centralize civil and religious powers, once the invaders had been liquidated with money. But what invaders? The Duke of Montacuto and the Archduke of Urbino certainly agreed with him! I bet even not anyone knows where is my mother, perhaps kidnapped, or perhaps killed by the enemy. And you?» After having passed to the “you” of respect, he went back to speak to Lucia calling her as one did with the servants. «You’re not Cardinal Baldeschi’s niece. You can’t be. He’d never allow his niece to be here beside me. You’re a servant, a tramp sent by the Cardinal because I’m not dead yet and you must take the opportunity to finish me off. Come on, then! Where do you hide the dagger? Put it in my chest and let’s get it over with, because these wounds will kill me in a few days. Then I might as well cut the suffering short.»
So he grabbed Lucia’s arm and pulled her towards him. They found each other’s faces very close, each felt the other’s panting breath touching their cheeks. Lucia read in young Franciolini’s eyes the fear of dying, not the wickedness. Her instinct would have been to withdraw, and instead she did the opposite, she gently placed her lips on those of him. She didn’t even have time to feel the roughness of the beard that hadn’t been shaved for a few days, which was swept away in a vortex of tongues tangled together, hands looking for naked skin under her clothes, caresses that would isolate her from reality to reach heavenly heights, and then sensations never felt before, until she reached an intense pleasure, accompanied however by a deep pain. Now the blood was hers, and it came from her intimate parts violated by that sweet encounter; she had never felt anything like it in her life, but she felt satisfied.
«How could you think I’m here to kill you? I love you, I have loved you since the first moment I saw you, a few days ago, riding out of this palace on your steed. I saved your life, I cured you, and now you have made me a woman, and I am grateful.»
She finished getting rid of her clothes and, completely naked, slipped into bed next to her love. She opened her nightgown, began to caress his chest, to kiss him, then guided his hand to touch her swollen nipples. And it was kisses and caresses and sighs, for endless magical minutes. Then she sat astride him on his belly and, guided by the instinct that told her to do so, began to swing up and down, at first slowly, and then increasing the rhythm progressively, until she reached intercourse again.
The orgasm plunged Andrea once again into unconsciousness. The girl would have liked to talk to him gently, but with the clear objective in mind to bring the speech about the symbols linked to the strange seven-pointed pentacle, seen in the basement of the cathedral, brought back to the portal of Franciolini’s palace and recalled by Andrea in his delirium. There were many topics he would have liked to talk about with him, now that he had recovered, but at that moment it was again impossible.
While Lucia retrieved her clothes from the floor and settled down, still feeling in her lap sensations that stimulated the pulse of her intimate areas, excited voices came to her ears from the entrance of the palace.
«You can’t enter in this house, you’re not allowed!», Ali was shouting. Then his voice faded to the point of extinction.
«Arrest the Moor, kill him if he resists. And search the house. The Cardinal wants Countess Lucia back in the palace immediately. As for young Franciolini, if he is still alive, arrest him without harming him. He must be tried for high treason and heresy. It’s not us who will kill him, but justice, divine justice and that of men. And the punishment will be exemplary, to make the people understand who they must be subject to: God and His Holiness the Pope!»
Lucia had just recognized the voice of the person who had uttered these last words, the Dominican Father Ignazio Amici, who together with his uncle presided over the local court of the Inquisition, when the door of the room opened wide and the satisfied grinning of two armed guards was drawn on his bow.
Chapter 4
Culture is the only thing that makes us happy
(Arnoldo Foà)
The insistent sound of the alarm clock managed to catapult Lucia back into everyday reality. With the same hand with which she had silenced the ringer, she found the packet of cigarettes on the bedside table. It had become her custom to light the first cigarette as soon as she woke up, but in recent times she had even done so before leaving the bed. Then she would reach the bathroom with the smoking stick in her mouth, devote herself to the toilet and make-up, occasionally taking a big puff of smoke, throw her cigarette butt in the toilet and earn her way into the kitchen to prepare her coffee, after which she would light another cigarette, concentrating on the new working day that awaited her. In the workplace she was absolutely not allowed to smoke, so even if she sometimes thought that this vice would be very harmful in the long run, she would throw behind her shoulders any hesitation while watching the red tip light up every time she sucked.
My body needs its dose of nicotine, so much for that puritanical dean of the foundation!, Lucia often thought lighting her third cigarette of the day, the one that allowed her to get a decent hour without having to leave her place of work before the breakfast break. In the year 2017 the spring was very rainy and, although it was the end of May, the temperature had not yet reached the summer average; so, especially in the morning at the time of going out, it was still cool, and it was difficult to decide which was the most suitable dress to wear. A quick glance at the wardrobe, while wearing a light, flesh-coloured, almost invisible pantyhose, made the choice for that day fall on a red, long-sleeved, but not wintery, dress of a length suitable to leave the legs bare just above the knee. A thread of lipstick, two strokes of brush to her naturally wavy brown hair, a line of pencil to emphasize the hazelnut of her eyes, a last pull from the cigarette, whose cigarette butt remained punctually smoking in the ashtray, and Lucia Balleani, twenty-eight years old, one meter seventy-five centimetres of austere beauty, almost unattainable by the common man, graduated in ancient literature, specializing in medieval history, was ready to face the impact with the external environment. She was one of the last descendants of a noble Jesi family, the Baldeschi-Balleani and, ironically, despite the fact that from birth she had never been able to live and dwell in the sumptuous family residence in Piazza Federico II - let alone in the beautiful villa outside Jesi - she now found herself working just in that palace. She had willingly accepted the job offered her by the Hohenstaufen Foundation, which had found its natural home there, in the very square where tradition says that in 1194 Frederick II of Swabia, prince and later emperor of the Hohenstaufen family, was born. Like all noble families, from the 1950s onwards, when sharecropping with the income from immense agricultural estates inherited from time immemorial ended, the Baldeschi-Balleani were not immune from gambling away most of the family’s possessions, selling them or selling them off to the highest bidder, in order to maintain the standard of living to which they were accustomed. The Baldeschi branch, a little wiser, had moved in part to Milan, where it had set up a small but profitable design and architecture company, and in part to Umbria, where it ran a charming farm holiday in the green hills of Paciano. The Balleani branch was left with the crumbs and Lucia’s father continued with tenacity and little profit to run the farm, which consisted of plots of land scattered throughout the countryside of Jesi and Osimo. Lucia was a girl, besides being very beautiful, very intelligent. Thanks to her father’s sacrifices she was able to attend the University of Bologna and graduate with excellent grades. Her point of view was history, in particular the medieval one, perhaps because she felt in a strong way, inside herself, on the one hand the belonging to the city that had given birth to one of the most enlightened Emperors of history, and on the other hand to the family that first gave a Lord to Jesi. In fact, it was the Ghibelline Baligani family - the surname had become Balleani with time - that in 1271 had established the first Lordship in Jesi. With ups and downs, Tano Baligani, sometimes siding with the Guelphs, sometimes with the Ghibellines, depending on how the wind was blowing, had tried to maintain the dominion of the city, against other noble families, in particular against the Simonetti, who also took the reins of command of the city at certain times. In the two centuries that followed, the Balleani would become related to the Baldeschi family, who had given the city several Bishops and Cardinals, in order to seal a tacit agreement between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, especially to oppose the external enemy and counter the expansionist aims of the neighbouring municipalities, in particular Ancona, but also Senigallia and Urbino. Precisely because of this passion of her, the dean of the Hohenstaufen foundation had wanted to hire Lucia for the reorganization of the library of the palace that belonged to the noble family. The library boasted extremely rare pieces, such as an original copy of Tacitus’ Germanic Codex, but which had never been properly classified. Besides the classification of the books present, Lucia had other interests, of which she had tried to talk to the Dean, such as that of collecting all the historical sources about the city of Jesi present both in this and in the other libraries in the area, in order to give the prints an interesting publication. Or that of mapping the subsoil of the historical centre, rich of vestiges belonging to the Roman age, in order to have a reconstruction of the ancient city of Aesis
as close as possible to the one that had been in reality.
