Page 125 of The Medici Return

He bent down and examined the gap the attendant had generated. “There’s some sort of tab in there. Inserted into a slot in the frame. You’re going to have to work all the way around so the backboard comes free in one piece.”

Which was precisely what the attendant did, twisting the chisel and freeing the tab that extended out on all four sides. The woodcreaked from the pressure of the tab’s release. It took a few minutes for the backing to be readied for removal.

The attendant was excused, and the curator dropped to her knees.

With both hands she worked the backing away from the frame and exposed a thin cavity beneath.

A holding spot.

Lying inside against the back side of the canvas was a piece of vellum, identical in shape and size to the one they’d seen at Santa Maria di Castello. Cotton bent down close and saw that it was written in Latin, signed with aGby Julius II, like the other, with the odd Medici mark drawn in the lower left corner.

The second copy of the Pledge of Christ.

Right where Anna Maria pointed.

“Incredible,” the curator muttered.

Cotton carefully lifted out the document, this one not in a protective plastic sleeve. He placed his open palm beneath the sheet to provide support, mindful that he did not wear gloves. The vellum seemed intact, and the writing was still clearly legible.

“What are you doing?” the curator asked.

“He is doing what I asked,” a new voice said.

Cardinal Stamm entered the room, dressed officially in scarlet, a gold pectoral cross against his thin chest, looking every bit like a prince of the church. The old man drew close and examined the document.

“Anna Maria seems to have either known it was there,” Stamm said, “or placed it there for her son to find. Hidden with Giuliano de’ Medici, behind the Castel Sant’ Angelo. How ironic. The Medici who made the loan protected the collateral.”

Stamm motioned and a priest entered with a slim, hard-sided leather briefcase, which was opened. Cotton gently laid the document inside, and it was snapped shut.

“That is a historical document belonging to this museum,” the curator said. “I was not instructed to allow any removal.”

“This document will be placed in the Vatican archives,” Stammsaid. “There it will stay, safe and protected, until a lawful Medici royal heir appears to claim it.”

Cotton smiled. “Of course, no one knows it exists, except us.”

“Actually, there is a woman in a village about an hour from here who also knows. But she is not long for this world and few, if any, will pay her any mind.”

“So no Medici heir will ever appear,” Cotton said.

Stamm shrugged. “That is not my problem. I have done all that the church should do. The document will be properly preserved. What else may or may not occur is of no matter to me.”

And with that the cardinal and the priest with the pledge left. Before they did so, though, Stamm said, “Father Giumenta, I’d like you to come too.”

“Of course.” The young priest turned and shook Cotton’s hand. “It was an honor to work with you.”

“The honor was all mine,” Cotton said. “You take care.”

The three prelates left.

The curator seemed flustered. “I will have to report this.”

“Good luck with that one,” Stephanie said. “That cardinal is not someone who makes irrational moves. I assure you, he’s cleared it all with the right people.”

“We will see about that.”

And the woman left the gallery.

“I appreciate what you did,” Stephanie said to him. “You went above and beyond. Running in the Palio? And you won it? That’s one for the record books.”