Page 62 of The Medici Return

Eight granite-and-marble columns supported sculpted scenes that dramatically narrated the life of Christ. Ascolani stood among the visitors, still dressed casually, admiring the opulence. To their right hung this year’spallium, the silk banner draped before one of the towering black-and-white-striped pillars, where it had been brought earlier for the archbishop’s blessing. Tomorrow it would be moved to the campo, behind the judge’s stand, where it would wait to be claimed by the winningcontradaof this year’s race.

“This pulpit is one of the great wonders in Christendom,” Ascolani said in a low voice. “All in Carrara marble. The detail is astonishing. Such a richness of motion and narrative. See the central column. It is adorned with the figures of arts and crafts.Grammar, with a little boy reading a book placed on his knees.Dialectia, whose withered face is plunged in deep thought.Rhetoric, pointing out a word in a book.Philosophy, arrayed in sumptuous clothes with an illuminating torch in her hands.” Ascolani motioned. “Arithmetic, counting upon her fingers.Music, playing on a cithera.Astronomy, bearing the astrolabe.” His boss paused. “Amazing representations.”

People were moving all about, most there to admire this year’s banner. He noticed that many crossed themselves and were brought to tears in its presence. Odd, considering it was but a work of art upon silk, this year’s leaning toward the traditional with an image of the Madonna of Provenzano.

“There are things you must now know,” Ascolani said. “PopeJulius II and Giuliano de’ Medici met right here, inside this pulpit, in late spring 1512. The head of the Medici clan and the head of Christendom.”

His boss then explained the deal the two men had made. The Medici were not going to simply take the pope’s word for repayment, especially considering that Julius was nearing the end of his life. So the pope issued a Pledge of Christ.

Ascolani motioned and they walked away, toward a nearby empty corner. More people were still streaming into the cathedral.

Ascolani stood quiet and still. “Julius died in 1513, only a few months after making the pledge. A Medici was elected the next pope, as Leo X. The church had no way then to repay such a large debt, so the balance just accrued. Giuliano de’ Medici, though, had troubles of his own. He gave up his leadership of the Medici family and married a French noblewoman in 1513. He was given the title Duke of Nemours, and the French were grooming him for the throne of Naples. But he died prematurely in 1516. All Florence mourned him.”

“Would not the family have known about the debt?” he asked.

“Of course. But here is where fate played a part.”

Ascolani explained that the Medici controlled the Vatican from 1513 to 1534 through two popes. Neither had any interest in calling in the pledge, as both actively drained the Vatican of its wealth with their patronage of the arts and other extravagances. Their reigns also coincided with the Protestant Reformation and the infamous sack of Rome by the troops of Charles V in 1527. It was Clement VII, a Medici, who ultimately convinced the Holy Roman emperor, Charles V, to make Florence a republic once again, with the Medici as its ruler. But in 1569 that was changed to a duchy, and Pius V crowned Cosimo I grand duke.

But that had come at a price.

“Pius told Cosimo that to get the duchy and the title, the Medici would have to forbear on calling in the pledge,” Ascolani said. “A brilliant move that neutralized the financial threat in one swift blow. But the pledge was not destroyed. There the Medici weresmart. They insisted it remain in existence to ensure that no one took back the duchy or the title that had been given to them. If that happened they would call in the debt. It was as if they both had loaded guns pointed at each other.”

“How do we know this,” Stefano asked.

“I have spoken to our most senior historians, and they related to me all the details. In our history thePignus Christihas only been issued six times. Five of those were honored. This is the only one outstanding. This particular one, though known within the church, has not been an issue. It died when the Medici died out in 1743. No more legitimate Medici. No more pledge.”

He wanted to know, “Do we have the document?”

Ascolani shook his head. “Not in the Vatican. I had a search done. It rests, if at all, with the Carthusians, inside Santa Maria di Castello with all those stolen records from the sixteenth century. That is where Cardinal Ghislieri went in exile and where he stayed for six years until becoming Pope Pius V.”

“The current pope cannot order them to open their doors?”

“He would never. They are a cloistered sect. And besides, the Holy Father knows nothing of this situation. I have kept this close. The fewer who know the better. Only you and I know the full situation.”

He appreciated the degree of trust the cardinal was placing in him. He wanted to ask about the Palazzo Tempi and the man in the window, but he knew better. So he offered only a nod, acknowledging the situation as explained.

Ascolani motioned to the people. “The archbishop has yet to discover I am here, and I would like to keep it that way. This is a highly confidential matter. Entity business.”

He understood.

“Something, though, has changed,” Ascolani said. “Eric Casaburi knows something we do not. He went to Cardinal Richter and specifically mentioned the Medici and the pledge. That is most disturbing, and we are going to find out the full extent of the situation. But first I want you to keep a close watch on the Americanagent, Malone, and Cardinal Richter. We must know what they are planning. Use some of your team, if need be. But remember, the fewer who are involved the better.”

Interesting how life dealt its opportunities. Twenty-four hours ago he was the hero of Florence in the Calcio Storico, the entire country watching him on television, his childhood neighborhood singing his praises. Now he was in the middle of something that no one could know a thing about. He was accustomed to discretion and secrecy. But he could not shake the strange feeling that swept through him.

Something was not right here.

CHAPTER 42

8:30P.M.

COTTON WALKED THE STREETS OFSIENA, THE WAY LIT BY LIGHTS ANDlanterns. People were everywhere, the excitement evident. Camilla had told him that all across the city eachcontradawould be holding a celebratory dinner. Like the pep rallies he remembered from high school before each football game. A way for thecontradato gather and hear emotional speeches from theircapitanoand jockey, further building enthusiasm for the race tomorrow. Some of thecontradasheld their celebrations right in the streets of their neighborhood. He’d passed one where tables, some fifty-plus feet long, lined the cobblestones, following the street’s hilly contour up and down. Golden Oak gathered in the plaza before their church. He found the area loaded with people singing and cheering.

The sun was gone, the evening warm but pleasant. More long tables were here in rows, overflowing with bottles of Chianti, baskets of bread and plates waiting to be filled with pasta, meat, and vegetables. He caught the inviting waft from their stewing. Revelers filled nearly every seat, all Golden Oakers, born and bred. The atmosphere was exciting yet serious, with flags and banners hung everywhere and lots of chanting. Just after he arrived they all stood reverently and sang thecontrada’santhem. One huge family, all united behind one thought.

Win tomorrow.

But that was not what Camilla Baines had in mind.

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