The Medici Secret

Chapter 19

Venice, May 1410 He was floating. Everything was perfect; he felt no pain. All fear had gone. But most of all, he experienced an overwhelming sense of relief. The pressure had lifted, and with it, all the expectations placed upon him. No one could touch him here in this paradise. No one could insist that he fight. Now there was nothing to fight for, because nothing mattered. He could live like this forever, just floating. It was like being a newborn baby again. And then a face appeared. Was it his mother? She was standing over him. She was calling his name. He felt her soft hand on his cheek, stroking his face, brushing the hair from his eyes. 'Cosimo,' he heard her say. But then her voice grew faint and he was floating again, floating in the warm ocean of happiness he had quickly come to treasure. ? Tommasini and Niccoli were seated in a small boat at the meeting point, Saint Silvestro on the Grand Canal at the edge of the San Polo district. The night was still and silent. They could see in the distance the lights of the huge houses on the edge of the canal.

Niccolo Niccoli was the first to notice the woman. Wrapped in a long grey shawl that covered her head she was carrying a lantern that threw little light. 'You are Niccold Niccoli,' she said matter-of-factly. He nodded. 'I have an urgent message.' 'From whom?'

'That I cannot reveal. The message is this: your friend Cosimo has the thing you seek, but he is hurt. He is in good hands. A ship awaits you.' And she glanced at the other man in the boat. 'Cosimo's hurt?' Niccoli asked. 'Not seriously.'

Niccoli felt relief flood through him. 'Who are you?'

'I am Caterina Galbaoi. You must let me bring you to the one who sent me. There is no time to waste.'

Ambrogio joined them on the pathway. 'This could be a trap Niccolo,' he said, keeping an eye on the woman.

'It is no trap' she responded, calmly. 'Blood has been spilled tonight. By dawn your friend Cosimo will be wanted for murder. You will all be arrested and tried as accessories. The Doge is a man besieged, and he is cunning. You will have no hope of survival, and all that Master Valiani has done for you will be for nothing.' 'Valiani?' 'Master Valiani is my uncle.'

In a flash, Niccoli drew his sword and had the tip of the blade at the woman's throat. 'Prove it,' he hissed.

The woman took a deep breath and drew her hand from under her shawl. She was wearing a silver band topped with a large rectangular garnet.

Sheathing his sword, Niccoli bowed low. 'Please accept my humble apologies, signora.' The boat approached the island of Giudecca across the broad canal to the south of the main islands of the Republic. The two men rowed while Caterina guided them through a waterway running south from the Grand Canal into the open waters of the lagoon. The water was glassy still and pitch black, but out here away from the confines of the sick city, the air seemed fresher. Behind the surrounding wall stood some of the grandest palaces in Venice, each nestled in lush grounds, home to many of the noblest families in Italy. These people were rarely seen by most Venetians. With the first news of plague they had disappeared completely, believing they would be safe here.

It was very dark, but, as they passed a promontory, lights glimmered ahead and gradually a ship's mast emerged from the gloom. Drawing closer, they began to make out the shape of the hull. It was a caravel of around fifty tons. Two triangular sails were unfurled, limp in the oppressive stillness.

Behind them a large bireme approached, propelled through the water by a score of oarsmen. Two archers stood aft with crossbows raised to eye level. They wore the livery of the Venetian Navy, emblazoned with the lion of St Mark, gold on red.

'Hell!' Niccoli exclaimed, as a bolt slapped the water beside them.

The gap between the two boats was narrowing quickly. A flurry of bolts ripped through the air. One hit the side of the boat, the rest flew low over their heads. Then half a dozen arrows whistled past, falling ten metres from the bireme. Their pursuers were under fire from the caravel.

A second volley rained down across the water and an archer at the bow of the pursuers' boat screamed and fell forward into the cold lagoon. A third, larger shower of arrows was fired, and several more bolts shot back from the bireme. There were more screams as arrows found flesh.

With a final desperate effort, the Florentines drew in alongside the caravel. Niccoli lifted Caterina on to the rope ladder dangling from the side of the ship, and, as a hail of bolts hit the side of the ship and bounced off the hull, she pulled herself aboard. Tommasini climbed up the ladder as fast as he could. A bolt missed him by a hand's width. Before the last of the companions was aboard, the anchor was hauled up and the caravel began to move. 'A lucky escape, my friends.'

Niccoli was the first to reach Cosimo. 'The young woman said you were injured.' 'A mild concussion, nothing more.'

Niccoli noticed a nasty gash on Cosimo's forehead. He had a black eye; the sleeve of his tunic had been cut away and there was a large bandage about his arm.

'A little more than that, by the look of you,' said Niccoli and he pulled Cosimo's head back gently. 'But it appears you've been well tended to.' Cosimo slapped his hand on his friend's back. 'So what in God's name is going on?' asked Tommasini. His blond locks were plastered to his face with sea spray and his cheeks were still ruddy with the exertion of their narrow escape.

'I know little more than you,' Cosimo began. He told them the bare bones of what had happened from the time he left the Ducal Palace until he had came to aboard the ship little more than half an hour earlier. 'Before you ask, I have absolutely no idea who my saviour was. But I know I owe him my…'

He trailed off as he saw the expressions change on the faces of his friends. They were staring past him. He turned round to see Caterina. Close behind her stood a figure dressed in white, holding a lantern at shoulder height.

'I think you mean you owe her your life, Lord Cosimo,' Caterina said.

They watched as the figure in white pulled back the hood. Long black locks tumbled over white cloth.

Cosimo crossed the deck in three strides. 'Contessina!' he cried. 'My darling, Contessina…' Then he stopped. 'I don't know whether to pinch myself or to seek a medic Am I imagining things? The blow to my head, perhaps?' 'My love,' Contessina said. 'I am not imaginary.'

The blood had drained from Cosimo's face. 'Gentlemen, if you will excuse us, I think my lady and I need to talk.'

They sat in the captain's quarters, a narrow hutch of a room containing nothing more than a map table, a slender bunk and an uncomfortable oak bench. 'You killed two men tonight,' Cosimo said. 'Three. I could not let the priest go.'

'The Contessina I left in Florence less than two weeks ago could not have killed a fly.' 'Cosi, I'm sorry I was not honest with you.' 'I don't know who you are anymore.'

'I'm still the same woman, your betrothed, the woman you claim to love.' 'Contessina

She leaned forward and placed a finger on his lips. 'Let me tell you the whole story, my love. You know that Master Valiani was Niccolo's teacher. Well he also taught my elder brother, Marco. One day, I was in the library when Marco was having a lesson. Valiani had asked my brother a question about mathematics and he did not know the answer. Valiani tried another. Marco could not answer this one either. It was hopeless.

'Eventually, Valiani grew quite agitated. I was worried my brother might be in for a beating. Then suddenly, Valiani snapped his head towards me and said: "You are a fool boy. Even your little sister could answer these questions." 'I don't know what came over me. Perhaps I was scared for my brother, or maybe for myself. I just blurted out… six and four. Suddenly Valiani broke into a smile. "Very good," he said. "Let's try another." I must have given the correct response because he smiled again.

'The master was fascinated by me. He sent my brother away with some homework and quizzed me further. You see, Valiani is many things. He is a Humanist, of course, but he is also an elder in the heretical sect known as the Arians. They reject the concept of the Holy Trinity. As a consequence, they are anathema to Rome. Valiani is also a master of many Eastern Arts unknown in Italy, a champion swordsman and a man steeped in arcane knowledge. He became my teacher and my guide. He was always gentle, always kind, but I knew I was little more than a specimen for study. He schooled me in Latin and Greek, in mathematics, philosophy and history. He trained me with the sword and the bow. I was taught to ride and to sail.

'It was our secret, and, as I say, I was little more than an experimental subject for the Master. Then, perhaps five years ago, he told me that he was about to embark on what would almost certainly be his final voyage. He had never married and had no heir. He joked that if only I had been born a boy everything would be so much easier. And he pleaded with me never to let my talents go to waste, because he believed that one day something would happen to change things and I would be important to him, important to the Humanist cause, important to the world of learning.

'Two weeks ago, Valiani appeared in my life again. He told me of his discoveries and the secret of the map. He explained how he intended offering you and your friends the opportunity to seek out the treasures of Golem Korab, but he also wanted me to be what he called "his insurance".

'No Cosi, don't get me wrong,' Contessina said quickly, and touched Cosimo's hand. 'It is not that Master Valiani did not trust you or have faith in your abilities, but he was convinced that two heads are always better than one. He knew he could not tell you about me, and he also knew the time was not right for me to tell you this tale, not then, not in Florence.' 'But…?'

'Cosi, I just want you to understand this. I was not sent to interfere in any way. The master knew there would be many dangers for you along the way. He knew that some hint of what you were seeking would find its way to the avaricious and the villainous. He had heard rumours of plague and war; and, thanks to the brave and noble Luigi, he was also suspicious of Father Enrico. But he only learned of all this recently and from Florence he could do nothing about changing the hiding place for the map fragment.'

'And what of your family, Contessina? You could not have simply walked out of the house.'

'Valiani smoothed that over for me. My parents believe I am staying with my brother's family in Padua.' 'You deceived them?' 'We are both capable of that, Cosimo.' 'And how did you get to Venice?'

'I travelled with Valiani to Ravenna. This vessel, La Bella Gisela, is owned by a wealthy Genoese trader, another former pupil of Valiani's and a fellow Arian. She is making for Ragusa with a cargo of fine fabrics, alum and salt.' 'How did you know I would be attacked?'

'I had no idea, but Master Valiani knows the Doge to be a devious and calculating man. Your assailants were from Steno's personal guard. The priest was also in the pay of the Doge.' There was an icy silence between them.

'It seems,' he said at length, 'that I have been played for a fool. By everyone.' For the next two days Cosimo remained alone in his cabin. This was the way he dealt with problems. He cut himself off and kept his own counsel. His friends knew not to interfere. Ambrogio had other worries; he had spent the whole voyage laid out on the deck with a bucket between his knees. Niccolo was an experienced seafarer whose family had been keen mariners, so, much to Ambrogio's chagrin, he felt entirely at home aboard ship.

Contessina had never seen Cosimo turn in upon himself like this. It upset her, although she could understand how he felt. He had come to believe that somehow she had betrayed him, that she had been wearing a mask more deceitful than any Venetian carnival disguise, that he had been tricked into loving someone different.

La Bella Gisela was hugging the Dalmatian coast. It was a large but fast ship, and with the cooperation of the captain, Cosimo monitored its course as they travelled south. This was a region under Venetian sovereignty, territory held against the Turk. Crossing the Bay of Venice some twenty nautical miles west of Trieste, they approached St Bartolomeo north of the Savudrija peninsula. From the south of Istria, where the peninsula ended suddenly, they skirted the islands of Kvarneric lying to the west of the mainland. Here, many inlets and sheltered coves offered safe havens for ruthless pirates, rival groups who had long ago staked out the waters from Trieste to Split.

It was during the early morning that Cosimo was awakened from a deep sleep by the vessel pitching and rolling. An hourglass he had left loose on the small work table in the corner flew across the room just missing his head. Scrambling from his bunk, he lost his balance and fell against the table, crashing on to his back.

The deck was awash and the crew were struggling desperately to batten everything down. Cosimo made his way slowly to the bridge where the captain was fighting a losing battle to keep control of the helm. The wind was howling, the sails looked fit to burst. Cosimo could only stand upright by clinging on to ropes strung out along the port quarter.

Another wave hurled the ship upward like so much driftwood. As the wall of ocean rolled on, water poured down on the ship, thudding against the sails and crashing on to the deck.

A scream came from the bow. Cosimo caught a glimpse of one of the crew being swept overboard. A huge wave made the ship yaw wildly, flinging him across the deck. There was nothing to hold on to. His eyes were smarting with salt water and he could barely focus on the world around him. Something crashed into his head and another spasm of pain ripped through him. Blood poured into his eyes. Clawing desperately at the air, he caught hold of a loose rope.

All he could see was red. Then he heard a dreadful cracking sound. The main mast smashed on to the deck, crushing two sailors beneath it.

He tried to pull himself along the deck but he could not keep a grip on the rope. He gasped for air as he was hit by another cascade of water. The captain had disappeared and the helm had been smashed to pieces. Cosimo could hear a woman screaming above the roar of the elements. Contessina was clinging to the aft bulwark, her arms wrapped around a vertical strut.

He clawed his way towards her. She saw him and screamed his name. With reserves of strength he didn't know he possessed, he hauled himself forward. Moments later, he had reached her side. She was utterly exhausted and could barely speak. Blood ran freely from a cut above her hairline.

A roar came from the front of the ship and La Bella Gisela found herself perched at the summit of a mountain of water. The black raging ocean crashed down all around, a great primordial torrent, swallowing everything. Contessina gripped him so tightly it felt like they were merging, becoming one.

'So this is it,' Cosimo thought. 'This is what dying is like.'

He felt so small, so insignificant, so irrelevant, a dot, a pinprick, nothing. And as the ship tumbled back, somersaulting like a toy boat in an infinity of water, he felt a strange sense of relief. It would soon be over.