Emaciated by these reflections, frightened by what she had seen, Lucia grabbed the lantern and rushed up the stairs, her mind occupied by a single fear. Would she find the door open again? What if Uncle had remembered not to lock it and returned to close it? Or what if he did it on purpose, to induce her to go down there and bury her alive? No, it wouldnt have been enough for Artemio, he had to see his victims suffering in the face, it wouldnt have been like him to let her die there. He just wanted to scare her, and he succeeded. The little wooden door was open, Lucia went out into the hall, rested the lantern where he had taken it, she didnt even look at Morocco and rushed into the open air, into the Square, still with the heart in her throat.
It was almost the sunset of a warm day at the end of May and the reddish light of the sun gave spectacular colours to the beautiful square where, more than three centuries earlier, Emperor Frederick II of Swabia was born. She said to herself that she should research the meaning of the symbols found in the crypt in the family diary, in the precious manuscript that her grandmother had given her. But now she had to calm down, and decided to take a walk around the city. She crossed the square, reaching the opposite side, turned left and went down to the Longobards Coast, to reach the lower part of the town, where merchants and craftsmen lived. The palaces were less sumptuous than those in the upper part of the city, but they were nevertheless enriched with decorative elements, with finished portals and frames around the windows. The facades were almost all embellished with plaster, painted in pastel colours, such as light blue, yellow, ochre, soft orange; it was difficult to leave bricks face to face, as it was for the stately palaces up in the centre. As a reminder that those residences had been built thanks to the money earned by those who lived there, often on the lintels of the portals or windows of the first floor there were inscriptions such as De sua pecunia or Suum lucro condita - Ingenio non sorte. At the end of the Longobards Coast, turning right, you could quickly reach the church dedicated to the apostle Peter, built by the Longobard community living in Jesi in the second half of the tenth third century. Principles Apostolorum MCCLXXXXIIII, could be read above the portal; those who had engraved the date no longer had much memory of how the numbers were written in Latin, or perhaps they had never known it being an architect of Byzantine origin, already used to dealing with Arabic numerals, much easier to memorize. Opposite the church, the Franciolinis Palace, just completed, was the residence of the Peoples Capitan, Guglielmo dei Franciolini. He too had made his fortune as a merchant since, after the discovery of the New World, new commercial channels were opened and many new merchandise had also arrived in Jesi. Those who had been able to take advantage, had succeeded in a short time to accumulate considerable wealth. Lucia dwelt on the rich portal of the palace, limited by two columns and some square sandstone tiles, decorated with depictions of gods and symbols of Roman times. In all probability, while excavating the foundations of the house, decorative elements of a house of some Roman patrician had been found, and these had been reused to embellish the portal. Lucia recognized the God Pan, Bacchus, the Goddess Diana, and then some three-pointed lilies, and... a six-pointed star formed by two crossed triangles - strange, wasnt it the symbol of the Jews? - and again a five-pointed star, a pentacle, and... a seven-pointed design inscribed in a circle, similar in every way to what he had seen just before in the crypt. These last drawings could not date back to Roman times, and in fact, looking carefully at the tiles on which they were made, one could see that these were of different features, more recent than the others, perhaps made for the purpose of decorating the portal. But what was the meaning of all this? In that little square the sacred coexisted with the profane: on the one hand the church dedicated to the principal of the apostles, to Peter, the first Pope in the history of Christianity, on the other hand pagan figures and symbols that could accuse the landlord of being a heretic. And yet the uncle Cardinal was on good terms with Franciolini, he had even proposed his son to her as her future husband! The more she looked at those symbols, the more Lucia thought that the place had something magical. Perhaps that palace had been built over the ruins of a pagan temple, and had kept its peculiarities. She tried to focus, to open her third eye to the vision, she invoked her spirit, to make it hover high and peer at elements that she would not otherwise have seen. Already in his cup-shaped hands, the semi-fluid ball of colours was materializing, when the door of the palace suddenly opened wide, showing in the half-light a young man wearing light battle armour, riding a powerful steed in turn harnessed on his head to protect him from any blows that might be inflicted by swords and spears.
The knight held with his right hand the banner of the Republic of Jesi, representing the rampant lion adorned with the royal crown. As soon as the door was completely open, he spurred the horse outside, almost overwhelming Lucia who was there in front. The girl, frightened, became distracted, and the sphere immediately disappeared. The horse, in front of the unexpected obstacle, soaring, kicking in the air with its front paws. Lucia felt a hoof at a very short distance from her face, but she did not panic and stuck her gaze into the sea-blue eyes of the rider, whose helmet visor was raised. For a moment he lost herself in those eyes, the horse calmed down and the knight looked back at the damsel, staring in turn at the girls hazel eyes. There was a moment of calm, of total silence, the crossing of the two glances seemed to have stopped time.
Who was that handsome knight, ready for a hypothetical battle to defend his city? Was it Andrea? If it had been, she should have been grateful to her evil uncle! But maybe Franciolini had other children. She didnt have time to open her mouth, because after a few moments, the bells of St. Peters church began to ring, and gradually they were joined by those of St. Bernards church, then those of St. Benedict, and finally those of St. Florian. Throwing a last glance at Lucia, the knight spurred the horse again, reaching the nearby Piazza del Palio4 , the huge open space inside the walls, dominated by the Torre di Mezzogiorno5 . In short, other knights in arms squeezed around the one holding the banner, then came people on foot, armed with crossbows, daggers and any other weapon that could be used against the enemy.
«The Anconetans are attacking us!» cried the noble Franciolini. «Our lookouts sighted them from the Torrione del Montirozzo6 . Today, May 30, 1517, we prepare to defend the walls of our city.»
All the city gates were closed, the majority of the men on foot set out on the guards walkways, while the knights gathered in the square inside Porta Valle7 , ready to sortie against the enemy. But for that night, the Ancona army, led by Duke Berengario di Montacuto, did not approach to Jesi, but remained camped further downstream, a few leagues from the town of Monsano, half-hidden in the riparian bush near the Esino River.
For a few days the alert remained. At dusk, the Scolte8 reached the terraces, to strengthen the guard usually given to some lookouts, and from the walls resounded the call of a song that the population had not heard for several years:
«The trumpet sounded, and the day was over,
«The Anconetans are attacking us!» cried the noble Franciolini. «Our lookouts sighted them from the Torrione del Montirozzo6 . Today, May 30, 1517, we prepare to defend the walls of our city.»
All the city gates were closed, the majority of the men on foot set out on the guards walkways, while the knights gathered in the square inside Porta Valle7 , ready to sortie against the enemy. But for that night, the Ancona army, led by Duke Berengario di Montacuto, did not approach to Jesi, but remained camped further downstream, a few leagues from the town of Monsano, half-hidden in the riparian bush near the Esino River.
For a few days the alert remained. At dusk, the Scolte8 reached the terraces, to strengthen the guard usually given to some lookouts, and from the walls resounded the call of a song that the population had not heard for several years:
«The trumpet sounded, and the day was over,
already by curfew the song went up!
Up, up, to the armed guard towers, there,
Be careful, quietly watch out!»
The Peoples Captain had imposed a curfew on the citizens. At 9:00 p.m., those who did not go up to the stands of the walls had to strictly retire into their homes. But the guard was bound to drop early. For the evening of June 3, a party was planned at Palazzo Baldeschi, where the engagement of the Cardinals niece, Lucia, with the cadet of the Franciolinis house would be announced. In those days, every time Lucia crossed her uncles eyes, even if she was unable to read his thoughts, she saw only one word drawn on her face: betrayal. But she could not understand what interpretation to give to that word, at the same time so simple and so complex.
Chapter 2
Guglielmo dei Franciolini, Peoples Capitan of Jesi, was a wise administrator, and he knew well that it was not the case to authorize a sumptuous party just in the days when the enemy was at the gates of the city. But he could not go against the Cardinal, reviving once again the disagreements between civil and ecclesial authorities. Just a few years earlier, the Government Palace had been completed and inaugurated with the blessing of Pope Alexander VI himself, who had granted the citizens of Jesi to continue to adorn the lion with the royal crown, provided that ecclesiastical authority was observed in the city and the countryside. So much so that on the facade of the palace one could read, above the symbol of the city, the inscription Res Publica Aesina - Libertas ecclesiastica MD. And so the infamous Pope Rodrigo Borgia had granted a certain freedom to the Republic of Jesi, provided that it was nevertheless subjected to the power of the Church. With this agreement, the Jesis people were also spared the horrors perpetrated in the rest of the Marches by the Popes son, Cesare Borgia, who had proposed to become absolute lord of Romagna, Umbria and the Marches with ferocity and betrayal. It was past history, almost twenty years earlier, but in any case Guglielmo had to respect the pacts. Moreover, it was the engagement of his son Andrea with the Cardinals niece that further sealed the agreement between the Guelphs9 and Ghibellines of his city. After all, the enemy had been camped a few days ago on the banks of the river, much further downriver, and did not mention moving. On those curfew nights, the lookouts and the Scolte had not noticed any movement; the camps bivouac fires were clearly visible, almost kept burning all night long by the people of Ancona. The fear, not unfounded, of Guglielmo and his son Andrea, was that all this was a trick. Perhaps the enemies were waiting for reinforcements to attack, or perhaps they drew the attention of the Jesis inhabitants on that small camp, while the bulk of the army would appear elsewhere. The afternoon of Thursday, June 3 had been particularly hot. While Guglielmo was preparing for the ceremony, helped by some servants to wear elegant and colourful brocade dresses, which helped to increase his sweat production, he finished giving orders to the commanders of his guards.
«From vespers onward all the gates of the city must be closed. Also set up chains in the main streets, so that if the enemy breaks in, his progress will be hindered.»
The lieutenant interrupted him.
«The cardinal has made opposing arrangements, my lord. He wants all the gates of the city to be left open, so that the nobles living in the countryside have easy access to his palace and party. We cannot contradict him.»
«Strengthen the guard on the walls!» cried the Captain, tapping a fist on the table to underline his order.
«Even here, I have my doubts as to whether I can do that. The Cardinal, for security purposes, wants most of the armed guards deployed around his palace.»
«The Cardinal, the Cardinal!» Guglielmo was going mad with rage and heat. «So we risk handing the city over to the enemy! So be it, but we will close all the gates of the city at dusk. Well leave only Porta St. Florian open, from where the noble laggards can easily reach Palazzo Baldeschi. Weve never suffered assaults from the western part of the city. The enemy always assaults from the valley, coming from the Esino plain. It would be difficult for an army to come from the hills. Moreover, the western walls are very high and immediately inside Porta St. Florian we have a small fort with a bombard, to further defence. Prepare my steed, and call my son. Its time to go: well parade with the barded horses through the streets of the centre before we reach the Cardinals Palace.»
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 dAlba.
«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 uncles 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 Artemios. «Lets go get ready.»