«My young friend, you are strong and robust, while I am an old invalid. I don’t think our Lord will agree to your request. Even if he hasn’t summoned me for some time now and hasn’t entrusted me with any more missions after the one we both know, just knowing me away from here could be cause for concern for the Duke. Listen to me. Be quiet and make no foolish demands!»
«Shut up, you! You may be old and crippled, but you fight much better and you’re much smarter than a young warrior. And then...»
The words faded into his mouth, because they had reached the end of the corridor. The door wide open in front of them showed the dining room, where a long table was laid with all God’s blessings. Two reverent servants held open the heavy red velvet curtains that served as a frame at the doorway. As they passed by, the servants bowed deeply, then closed the curtains once the guests had crossed the threshold. Andrea and Gesualdo looked with wonder at the roasts of peacocks, pheasants and guinea fowl, roast potatoes and boiled vegetables. All the dishes were adorned with decorations, in a blaze of colours rare to see. Not to mention the smells, which reached Andrea’s nostrils to remind him of the perfumes that only in his father’s house he had appreciated at the time, and which he had almost completely forgotten. The wine in the pitchers was red, the typical dark colour of Mount Conero’s wine. Andrea felt a slight elbow, a prelude to the advice whispered by Mancino.
«Go easy on the wine. For someone like you, used to Verdicchio and Malvasìa, the Rosso Conero can be dangerous. It goes straight to the head!»
«The good moment may not last long, so we must act now in support of our friend Sigismondo Malatesta», Berengario began to say to his guests as he bit into a chicken leg, holding it by the bone, while the grease from his hand slipped down his forearm. «Now that Leon X is dead, Urbino and Montefeltro must be taken away from the Medici and the Holy See! Soon all the territories of the region of the Marche, including the Marca Anconitana, will have to be restored to the right balance. Subjected, yes, to the state of the Church, but still with independent civil governments. Unfortunately, Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere seems to have retired himself in Senigallia, renouncing to regain the Duchy of Urbino, taken from him by Cesare Borgia and then passed to the nephew of Pope Leo X. Moreover, the territories of Jesi are in total abandonment. After the death of Cardinal Baldeschi, a papal legate was sent, who seems not so much to govern the city as to finish reducing it to exhaustion, to misery, taking advantage of the vacation of a civil government.»
At these last words, Andrea’s heart leapt. The civil government of the city of Jesi was his by right. If the Duke of Montacuto wanted to restore the political balance, it would have been enough to send him back to his city, and he would have taken care of it and put this notorious papal legate back in the ranks. What was the point of sending him to fight for the Lord of Rimini? But perhaps the Montacuto’s intentions were quite different. Perhaps it would have served him well to maintain the situation of disorder in neighbouring Jesi, now that he had taken out the Council of Elders and had taken over the government of the City and the Marca Anconitana. Perhaps, at the last moment, he would have turned his back on everyone and sold Ancona to the Pope for a few tens of thousands of gold florins. Or perhaps he would have allied himself secretly with the Duke Della Rovere and would have made a common front with him, against the Pope and Malatesta himself, so that the latter would not have extended his expansionist aims towards the South. Who knows! Andrea would not have been sorry to return to Jesi and be able to see his beloved again. But if he hadn’t even been informed of the death of his sworn enemy, Cardinal Baldeschi, let alone if it had passed through the Duke’s mind to have him return home. So Andrea decided to remain silent and continue listening to Duke Berengario’s reasoning, distractedly bringing some potatoes to his mouth and savouring their delicate goodness. Only a few years before, the existence of this delicious tuber, which had recently been imported from the New World, was not even known. A servant poured red wine into his bowl and he gobbled it to accompany the potatoes on their way to his stomach.
«The recently appointed Pope, Adriano VI, is a puppet, a puppet in the hands of the ecclesiastical oligarchy, who made it possible to wipe out the House of Medici, who were taking too much power, even in Rome. I don’t think it will last long, before Giulio de’ Medici devises something to take him out and take back the reins of the Ecclesiastical State. So we must seize the moment before it’s too late. Early tomorrow morning, Andrea, you will leave for Pesaro, where you will take command of a garrison of Sigismondo Malatesta’s army. You will lead this garrison towards Urbino, while the Malatesta will reach the same city from the North with the rest of his army, through the Montefeltro territories. You will grip Urbino in a vice, from the north and the south, and both the Medici occupying Montefeltro and Count Boschetti, who governs Urbino on behalf of the Holy See, will have no escape. You, Gesualdo, will accompany Andrea as far as Pesaro. The road is long and risky, and you know the best ways to go. You will make sure that Andrea arrives at his destination as soon as possible. Then you’ll come straight back. Whether he knows that for some reason, valid or not, you followed Andrea into battle. In four days I want you back here in the castle, or else...», and two fingers crawled through the skin of his neck, simulating what a knife blade pressed against his jugular would do.
Even trying with himself not to admit it, Andrea had noticed a light of betrayal shining in the Duke’s eyes as he spoke. He had never trusted him, and now even less so. When he and Gesualdo were dismissed and, on their way out, they met two ugly thugs, who had never seen each other at court before, Andrea’s fears were even more pronounced. Fortunately, The Mancino, in whom he had blind faith, in the hours and days to come, would be at his side to defend him at the cost of his own life.
«Who do you think those two are, Gesualdo? Assassins, perhaps? Cutthroat?»
«I don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve seen them. But their faces don’t inspire anything good. But let’s not talk about that here. Come on, let’s go pick out the horses for the morning. We can talk quietly in the stables.»
When Matthew and Amilcare were inside the hall, the Duke had the door bolted, then clapped his hands. Immediately some handmaids, dressed in colourful clothes, with transparencies that highlighted all their feminine graces, reached the hall through a back door and began to dance to a melody played by invisible musicians, hidden who knows where. Berengario was over sixty and, in his life, he had had three wives, all disappeared at a young age and in mysterious circumstances. Someone, at court, whispered that he himself had had them killed, once they had bored him. He had always been a lustful, as well as a lover of the delights of the table, so much so that he had doubts as to which circle of hell he would end up in after his death. But little mattered. The important thing was to enjoy the pleasures that life offered him while he could. And from that point of view, in private, he didn’t want to miss anything. He reached out to one of the handmaids, the one wearing a bright red tunic, and ripped it off her, leaving her completely naked. The girl already knew what she had to do, and she was well aware that, if she did not perform her task properly, the next day her lifeless body would be found in the middle of the woods by some hunter. She approached the Duke and pulled down his stockings. Then she took the member in her hands until it was swollen, lowered her prosperous breasts down her lord’s belly, trying to excite him more and more. Only when she felt the man about to explode, she turned over and allowed herself to be sodomized. In the end, the Duke drove out a satisfied cry of pleasure and, as a reward, slipped a gold coin into the dimple between the young woman’s breasts, who was able to hold it without letting it fall to the ground.
«Come on, my dear guests! There’s food and women for everyone in here. Bring it on. It’s on me, and I’m generous today. And at the end, we’ll talk business, too.»
The stables of the castle of Massignano could hold more than a hundred