Page 80 of The Medici Return

He’d seen something similar before. When they’d opened Anna Maria’s tomb there’d been not only a crown but a large gold medallion, one side showing her likeness and name, the other a sun irradiating the world with the wordsDIFFUSO LUMINE. Behind her head, engraved on a copper plate, was a Latin inscription of forty-four lines describing her good deeds and high character, the sorrow she’d borne in seeing all of her family die before her, and the fortitude with which she’d endured her disappointments and sorrows. Medici graves were full of such self-serving epitaphs. Apparently the Pazzi were no different, as here was another.

“We know this came from Raffaello de’ Pazzi’s grave,” the priest said.

He studied the words.

VIRTUTES GENERIS MIEIS MORIBUS ACCUMULAVI. PROGENIEM GENUI FACTA PATRIS PETIEI. MAIORUM NUI LAUDEM UT SIBEI ME ESSE CREATUM. LAETENTUR STIRPEM NOBILITAVIT HONOR.

“Can you read it?” he asked. “I do not know Latin.”

“It says, ‘By my good conduct I heaped virtues on the virtues of my clan. I begat a family and sought to equal the exploits of my father. I upheld the praise of my ancestors, so that they are glad that I was created of their line. My honors have ennobled my stock.’”

He wondered who composed the epitaph. Anna Maria? Unlikely, considering the covert situation of their marriage and child. But whoever composed it obviously felt strongly about the man.

He noticed there were a few more of the copper plates in other cases.

“It was a funeral tradition,” the priest said, “to place the copper plates inside the graves. These were removed long ago. Whatmakes this one, from Raffaello de’ Pazzi’s grave, unique is that there is writing on the back. None of the others have that.”

He was intrigued. “Can I see?”

The priest nodded and opened the glass case, carefully turning the copper plate and its stand to reveal more Latin.

“It’s an odd paragraph,” the priest said. “One that no one here has ever been able to understand.”

“Could you translate it for me?”

“‘Ne’er will the sweet and heavenly tones resound, Silent be the one nature feared, and when he was dying, feared herself to die. Forever silent be his harmonies, only in his third son’s bright world be justice found.Auguror eveniat.’”

CHAPTER 54

JASON WAS AMAZED.

Malone had won the race atop the Giraffe horse. According to the rules the Giraffes were the winners as their horse crossed first, and the bleachers where their supporters had watched the race erupted in elation as they emptied onto the track. Pandemonium reigned. People leaped the barriers that had blocked off the center of the campo, racing toward where Malone and horse had stopped. All of the other horses and jockeys were likewise being engulfed. Bells rang out in a peal of triumph.

“He did a good job,” Camilla said to him. “The Giraffes will be thrilled. They have not won the Palio in many years.”

“It is truly the oddest horse race in the world.”

She smiled. “It is uniquely Sienese.”

The others had fled the dais and plunged into the mayhem. The Giraffes were rushing the judge’s stand shouting “Dàccalo”—give it to us. The Capitano del Popolo was lowering the pallium down to the Giraffecapitano.

“They will parade it through the streets to the Basilica of Provenzano for the blessing,” Camilla said. “After that the festivities begin. They will go on all night and into tomorrow.”

“Their jockey ended up on the ground.”

“But their horse won, and that is all that matters.”

Jason searched the crowd for Malone. He was somewhere among the tens of thousands of clamoring people. He’d also lost sight of Ascolani. Camilla reached into her pocket and removed her phone. She studied the screen for a moment, then motioned that he should read it.

The Tortoise jockey removed on the second lap was shot in the back. He’s dead.

He was shocked.

“I suppose this has something to do with you?” she asked.

THOMAS LEFT THE PALAZZO AND DISSOLVED INTO THE WAVES OFpeople filling the streets. All those thousands who’d filled the campo were now flooding out. He’d left the rifle in its case and was now implementing the escape plan he’d developed last night.

After a quick meal at a nondescript café he’d walked the streets, finding a couple of the celebratory dinners being held across the city beneath lights and lanterns on streets doubling as dining rooms. He’d then mapped out the quickest route to the Church of Santa Margherita, along with a more circuitous way. Just in case. He did not like the masses of excited bodies all around him. Impossible to know if anyone was more than casually interested in him. In his line of work it paid to always be sure, so he decided to take the circuitous route.

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