Page 124 of The Medici Return

Where they stopped.

The curator explained that, for the Medici, the space had been used as a throne room where the grand dukes held public audiences. Which made sense as the walls were richly decorated, full of frescoes, white and gilt stucco works, and plumes decorated with shells.

On one of the walls he spotted Raphael’s portrait.

“It has hung here, inside the Pitti Palace, off and on since 1743,” the curator said to them. “Its provenance is fairly known.”

They listened as she explained that the portrait was sent to France to serve its purpose, but was returned to Florence after Giuliano di Lorenzo de’ Medici married Philiberta in 1515 and became the Duke of Nemours. The French were grooming Giuliano for the throne of Naples, but he died prematurely in 1516. A further connection to Giuliano could be found in what Anna Maria had written.

Know the darkened world has long missed the night and day, which while the shade still hung before his eyes, shone like a guide unto steps afar.

Giuliano was buried in the New Sacristy of the Church of San Lorenzo. Michelangelo himself crafted the tomb with a sculpture of Giuliano holding the baton of an army commander. At his feet reclined the figures of Night and Day. Night, a giantess, twisting in uneasy slumber. Day, a herculean figure, glancing wrathfully over his shoulder.

Night and Day.

Cotton stared at the portrait hanging on the wall.

Giuliano cast a deflected, sidelong glance, fashionably dressed in the French style with a black doublet over a scarlet vest and a cloak of grayish-green brocade bordered with fur. He wore awide-brimmed hat tilted to reveal a gold hairnet beneath. His right arm rested on a parapet, the hands holding a folded missive, a pictorial device used at the time to show attentiveness to office. He had just been appointed captain-general of the church by his brother Pope Leo X, the fact alluded to with the Castel Sant’ Angelo in the background beyond a drawn curtain. He also sported a beard, which was customary for the French. After his death the painting stayed with the Medici and was part of the initial bequest from Anna Maria to Florence in the Family Pact.

Cotton motioned. “All roads point to this painting. Only in Raphael’s bright world can it be found.”

“You think there’s something hidden there,” the curator asked.

“I think it’s worth a look. Anna Maria seemed to enjoy symbolism. She chose this painting for two reasons. First, it is of the man who made the pledge. Then second, notice Castel Sant’ Angelo in the background. That was where the popes kept their treasury. She’s sending a message.”

“I find it fascinating that this particular painting could prove so important,” the curator said. “It is inscribed in the lower left corner.”

Cotton stepped close and saw the lettersR.S.M.V.“Is that Raphael’s notation?”

“It is. But though it is recognized as a Raphael, most art historians say it was painted by students in his workshop, not by the artist himself. Hence why Raphael’s more common signature, Raphaello, is not there. All of which diminishes the painting’s importance and value. There’s even a copy that belongs to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. For decades there has been a debate as to which is the original. We have used ours here as a placeholder. The painting that is normally hanging in that spot is being restored. This one just temporarily fills the empty space.”

“Cotton is convinced there might be something there,” Stephanie said. “That’s good enough for me. We need to take a look.”

The curator motioned. “The alarms are off, and I have been instructed to accommodate your wishes.”

Cotton and Stefano approached the painting and lifted it off its wall hooks. It measured about three feet by two feet, enclosed in a heavy wood frame with carved ornamentation, painted a burnished gold.

“The frame is not original to Raphael’s time,” the curator said. “But everything else is.”

They laid the frame on the floor atop a drop cloth that had been waiting for them, with the painting facing downward. This way they could examine its back side. The painting itself, a tempera and oil, had been created on canvas, which was stretched on a wooden frame.

But Cotton immediately noticed something and pointed. “Why is the back covered?”

“It is not unusual,” the curator said. “The piece of wood there is clearly old. We have seen that before.”

“We need to remove it,” Cotton said.

The curator seemed hesitant, so he said, “I thought you were asked to accommodate our wishes.”

“But not to destroy something.”

“It’s a filler painting. Like you said, with little historical or monetary value. And there’ll be no damage to the other side.”

Cotton watched as one of the museum attendants carefully examined the back of the painting. He’d been summoned by the curator and told to bring tools. The young man used a small chisel and began to work it between the solid backing board and the frame itself. Some splintering occurred as it was forced apart. Not unexpected. But minor.

Then he noticed something.

The chisel could only penetrate about half an inch.

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