So he grabbed Lucias arm and pulled her towards him. They found each others faces very close, each felt the others panting breath touching their cheeks. Lucia read in young Franciolinis 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 didnt even have time to feel the roughness of the beard that hadnt 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 Im 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 Franciolinis 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 cant enter in this house, youre 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. Its 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 familys 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 Lucias 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 fathers 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 Aesis11 as close as possible to the one that had been in reality.
«You have many beautiful ideas, youre young and full of enthusiasm, and I understand you, but most of the access to the basement is forbidden, as you have to pass through the cellars of private buildings, whose owners most often deny consent.»
The old dean was peering at the girl with his green eyes from behind the lenses of the glasses. The grey beard could not conceal the sense of disapproval he felt towards the electronic cigarette, from which Lucia occasionally sucked a cloud of thick, whitish vapour, which in a matter of moments vanished into the air of the room.
«There is no need for physical exploration of the basement. A helicopter could fly over the city to get radar readings. This is the technique now and it gives excellent results», Lucia tried to insist, to see one of her greatest dreams come true.
«I wonder how much money would be needed for such a project. We have funds, but theyre quite limited. Italy has not yet come out of the economic crisis that has been afflicting it for several years now, and you come to me to propose pharaonic projects? Culture is beautiful, I am the first to say so, but we must keep our feet on the ground. See what you can achieve by exploring the basement of this building. They communicate directly with the crypt of the Cathedral, you could come up with something interesting. But do it outside the hours youre paid for. Your task here is well defined: reorganize the library!» The Dean was about to leave the girl to her work, and to her disappointment, when he turned around and said, «And, one last thing! Electronic or not, theres no smoking in here. I would ask you not to use that thing while youre working.»
With a dramatic gesture, Lucia pulled the electronic cigarette out of its neck with the cord, turned off the switch and put it in its case, which she slipped into the bag. From the same bag she took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and gained the entrance hall to go and smoke a real cigarette outside.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017, from the early hours of the morning, it was a clear, late spring day. The sky was blue and, although the sun was still low, Lucia was dazzled by the light as soon as she closed the front door behind her. She had found an excellent accommodation, renting a renovated apartment in Via Pergolesi, in the historic centre, a few hundred meters from her place of work. But the more interesting thing was the fact that she was right in the building that had housed, on the ground floor, in the 16th century, one of the first printing works in Jesi, that of Manuzi. The huge hall used as a printing house had been used for other purposes over time, even as a gym and as a meeting room for some political parties. But this did not take away the charm of the place. Leaving the main door and passing through a small courtyard, Lucia used to stand back and admire the arch from which one could go out onto the ancient paved road, Via Pergolesi, once the Cardo Massimo of Roman times, later called Via delle Botteghe or Via degli Orefici, for the pre-eminent activities that had taken place there during the various periods. Of the splendid shops of the past, in fact, very few remained. Many of them had shutters that had been lowered for several years, and the open ones showed off goods and services that had little to do with antiquity, with the pomp and splendour of the goldsmiths shops of the past. The tourist sign smeared with pigeon shit indicated that the arch of the Verronis Palace was not of Roman origin, as appearance might lead one to believe, but had been built in the fifteenth century by Giovanni di Gabriele da Como, an architect who had worked alongside the more famous Francesco di Giorgio Martini in the construction of the nearby Palazzo della Signoria. So much so that someone in the past had also attributed that arch to Di Giorgio Martini. According to Lucia, the Romans must not have been completely unrelated to that work, which overlooked the Cardo Massimo. Perhaps the Renaissance architects had limited themselves to restoring an ancient arch, whose remains had survived the centuries and the ruinous earthquake of the year 848.
A few steps between the austere buildings in the historic centre were enough to make Lucia pass from the shady Via Pergolesi to the bright Piazza Federico II. It was still a few minutes to 8:00 a.m., the time when she had to attack to work. She would have had time to smoke another cigarette before entering the Palace, but her attention was drawn to the four marble statues that supported the balcony on the first floor like caryatids. For a moment, she had the impression that the four telamons were animated with their own life, as if they wanted to come towards her to talk to her, to tell her centuries-old stories, whose memory had been lost. It was like a dizziness that made her imagine the balcony, no longer supported by the mighty statues, leaning dangerously towards the ground, and brought to mind the dream that had made her the protagonist of a story that had happened exactly five centuries earlier, in those same days of the year and in those places. The images of dreams flowed through her mind during her sleep like scenes from a serial novel. They were so clear that Lucia impersonated herself in her eponymous ancestor as if she was reliving her past life, both as an interpreter and as a spectator.
Suggestion, just suggestion!, she repeated for the umpteenth time the young woman to herself. All because of the books Im working on and the missing parts of the History of Jesi. My unconscious makes me invent the missing part of the book!
She took two deep breaths, reached a bench, sat down and observed that the facade of the building was there, intact and unharmed. She decided to cross the square, reach the bar and take a strong espresso before going to work. That diversion would have cost her a few minutes delay, but the dean never arrived before nine oclock. She quickly consumed her coffee and left the Bar Duomo, a few steps away she reached the side of the square where Via Pergolesi converged. On her left was the mouth of Via del Fortino, on his right the beginning of the Costa Lombarda, through which she could reach the lower part of the city. Right under his feet, on a large bronze tile was engraved the map of ancient Aesis. A little further on, the inscription in various languages, including Arabic, on the white tiles along the entire perimeter of the square: On 26 December 1194 Emperor Frederick the Second of Swabia was born in this square. Still a dizziness, still a vision. Now the square no longer had its present appearance. The lions fountain, with the obelisk, no longer stood in the centre, but the space was completely free. The Cathedral, on the opposite side, was a white building, smaller in size than the recent one, in Gothic style, with spires and pointed arches, a sort of small Cathedral of Milan. The bell tower was to the right of the facade, isolated and in an advanced position on the front of the church. The Baldeschi Palace, on the left of the Cathedral, was different, more massive, more sumptuous; the facade was surmounted, as embellishment, by three stone arches, perhaps taken from an ancient Roman construction and put up there in a false way, as a decorative element, but of no use. The statue of the Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus in her arms was already present in a niche between the windows on the top floor, while there was no trace of the four telamons supporting the balcony on the first floor. On the contrary, the balcony, although not completely absent, was very small compared to what it was used to seeing. The entire right side of the square was occupied, in place of the Bishops Palace and Palazzo Ripanti, by an enormous fortress, a sort of castle, decorated with typical arches and swallow-tailed Ghibelline merlons. On the left side there were the Church of St. Florian, with its dome and bell tower, and the Ghislieri Palace, not yet finished, surrounded by the bricklayers scaffoldings. Lucia looked towards the beginning of Via del Fortino, where there was a dyers shop, in front of which the craftsman had lit a fire to boil water in a pot encrusted with carbon black. A little girl had approached the fire dangerously and a strip of her dress had caught fire. In short, the girl found herself wrapped in flames. Lucia wanted to run towards to help her, but she couldnt take a step. She was horrified, hearing the girls desperate cries ringing in her ears. Then one, two raindrops, one roar, the flames were extinguished. The feeling of no longer touching his feet on the ground. Lucia was lying on the pavement. When she opened her eyes again she saw the blue sky, a sky from which not a single drop of rain could have fallen. A distinguished man, elegantly dressed, with a briefcase in his hand, tried to help her get up.