Page 69

“It’s as I thought: Confusion, turmoil, and disorder. When a great house falls it leaves terror and chaos behind. Take me to the Torre Borgia.”

“The private apartments?”

“We must determine whether the pope is dead. Cesare wouldn’t act while there was even a chance his father would live.”

“Cesare is ill in his bed and almost as weak as you.”

“But I’m here. Do you think Cesare is less determined than I? If he isn’t there himself, his lieutenants will be hovering around the pope’s chamber like vultures.”

Luigi continued to mutter obscenities while he made for the Torre Borgia.

A loud crashing and excited laughter could be heard as soon as they entered the apartments.

“Judging by all this merriment, it’s safe to assume Alexander is dead,” Lorenzo said.

“Put me down in that chair and go to the bedchamber and see what information you can gather from those poor souls attending His Holiness. No doubt they’ve become crazed with grief or they’d never see mirth in this sad occasion. ”

Luigi set him in the highback cushioned chair Lorenzo had indicated. “You will be all right?”

“Certainly. I shall sit here and enjoy studying Pinturicchio’s magnificent murals. I’d heard they’re truly the best things he’s ever done.”

“Murals! You study pretty pictures when the Swiss guards could rush in at any minute and cut off our heads?”

“Well, what else is there to do?” Lorenzo leaned back in the chair.

“And I imagine you might find a Swiss guard or two in the bed chamber of the pope, but I seriously doubt if they’ll be guarding him.

” He set the lantern on the table beside him and tilted his head to look critically at the mural.

“I hear Alexander posed for that figure in the Resurrection . Do you think Pinturicchio caught his likeness?”

Lorenzo smiled as Luigi threw up his arms, turned and strode from the room.

Luigi returned only five minutes later. “The pope is dead and his valets are sacking his chambers. Burchard, the master of ceremony, is the only official on hand and he cannot stop it. He says the entire Vatican has gone mad. They’re all trying to salvage what wealth they can before Alexander’s death becomes widely known.

” He paused. “Michelotto Corella demanded the key to the papal treasury on behalf of Cesare not thirty minutes ago.”

“Ah, then we’re in time.” Lorenzo straightened in the chair. “By all means let’s proceed to the treasury.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. You’re insane, you know. Corella is Borgia’s assassin, his bravo, and obeys Cesare’s orders without question. Rumor has it he even garrotted Madonna Lucretia’s second husband when the man lay helpless in his bed.”

“I’ve never admired stranglers. They lack subtlety and imagination and rely only on physical strength. I’m sure we can overcome such a dullard.” Lorenzo struggled to his feet and stood, swaying. “Shall we go?”

“You expect to overcome Corella when you stand there weaving as drunkenly as a thieving butler of the wines?” Luigi sighed and picked Lorenzo up again in his arms. “Madness.”

The doors of the treasury were thrown wide, and a stream of men wearing the scarlet-and-yellow colors of the house of Borgia were hurrying from the chamber carrying plates of silver and gold and large coffers.

“I told you this was madness,” Luigi whispered as he set Lorenzo down in the shadows beyond a turn in the long hall. “There are too many of them.”

“I only need one,” Lorenzo said absently as he gazed surreptitiously around the corner.

“That guard appears to be of my height and weight and there’s no one coming down the hall behind him.

” He nodded at the man striding toward them down the hall before leaning down and reaching into his boot.

“Be prepared to grab the coffer he’s carrying.

It’s probably filled with ducats and we don’t want them spilling out and scattering all over the floor. ”

“Why should he—”

The soldier came even with them and Lorenzo stepped swiftly forward, encircling the guard’s neck from behind and jerking him the two paces around the turn of the hall.

His poniard moved with lethal accuracy and his victim made no sound other than a soft expulsion of breath as the dagger entered his heart.

Luigi caught the coffer as it fell from the dead guard’s hands. “Maraviglioso . What an artist you are. What a splendid butcher you would have made!”

“Drag him into that chamber and strip him.” Lorenzo leaned weakly back against the wall. “Quickly.”

Ten minutes later, with Luigi’s help, Lorenzo had struggled into the guard’s uniform and Luigi had hidden the naked corpse in a window embrasure.

“Now what?” Luigi whispered.

“Now I go to the treasury and get the prize for which I came.” Lorenzo smiled. “And you stay here, my friend.”

“You cannot even walk without staggering.”

“Corella was obviously in a hurry and did not bother lighting many torches. The hall is so dimly lit no one will notice whether I stagger or not.”

“When you enter that chamber Corella will see you’re not one of his men and throttle you.”

“Then you’ll not have to worry about carrying me back.” Lorenzo started down the hall. “Stay here. If I don’t return in ten minutes, leave the Vatican without me.”

“I’ll do it,” Luigi vowed. “Why should I endanger my life for a madman? The minute you go into the treasury, I’ll be gone.”

The treasury seemed as far distant as hell from heaven to Lorenzo. Another Borgia guard strode out of the treasury staggering under the weight of the enormous pile of gold plates he was bearing. Lorenzo hastily averted his face but the soldier hurried by him without giving him so much as a glance.

Dio , the floor was quaking beneath his boots. Each step drained a little more of Lorenzo’s strength, and by the time he reached the treasury door his limbs were shaking uncontrollably.

“It has to be here somewhere. His Grace said we were to be sure to bring it to him.” A powerfully built man across the huge room was pushing aside heavy trunks filled with jewels and plates. “Search harder. It’s a plain mahogany chest.”

Corella, Lorenzo thought, as he stared at the bravo’s grim expression.

Relief flooded him as he realized he could not make out the features of either Corella or the other two soldiers in the chamber.

There were only a few candles scattered about the enormous room and, if Lorenzo couldn’t see Corella and his men clearly, then he must be equally cloaked by the gloom.

He stepped deeper into the shadow to the left of the door and bent over as if searching among the trunks and coffers as the other two guards were doing. His head started to swim and he clutched desperately at a large trunk until his vision cleared.

“There it is!” Corella pointed to the mahogany chest half hidden behind a five-foot golden vase on which a depiction of the Last Supper had been sculpted. “Take it.”

As Lorenzo straightened and moved quickly forward, a short, stocky soldier also headed for the chest from the opposite corner of the room.

Mother of God, Lorenzo thought. He could scarcely walk and now he was being forced to run races!

Lorenzo reached the chest first, snatched it up, whirled, and started toward the door.

“Wait!”

Lorenzo froze, keeping his back toward Corella.

“Perhaps we can pour some of these ducats into the chest. We must make every trip count. Open it and see if there’s room.”

Lorenzo set the chest on the floor, unfastened the latch, and opened the lid. The emerald eyes of the Wind Dancer twinkled up at him as if in amusement at his predicament.

“No room,” he said hoarsely. He slammed the lid shut, his fingers fumbling as he fastened it.

He picked up the chest and staggered toward the door.

“Is it so heavy? If you drop it, I’ll lop off your coglios, stupido.”

“Heavy,” Lorenzo muttered as he weaved out of the room. Perspiration beaded his forehead and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. The few steps remaining to the turn in the hall might just as well have been a mile.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He couldn’t make it.

He made it!

He felt himself jerked around the turn in the corridor and the chest plucked from his hands.

“Santa Maria , you’re stubborn.” Luigi tucked the chest beneath his right arm as his left arm encircled Lorenzo’s waist. “Why couldn’t you give up?” He walked Lorenzo down the hall. “Is it because you wish to make my life even more miserable than it is already?”

“You said you were going to leave.”

“I decided I was in no hurry. I needed to rest after hauling your scrawny carcass across Rome.”

“I see.” Lorenzo smiled. “How fortunate for me. Could you loose your grip around my middle? You’re cracking my ribs. I haven’t been held so tightly by a man since my childhood in Naples. Are you sure you have no romantic inclinations toward the male sex?”

“For that insult I should loose you and let you sprawl at my feet.” Luigi added quickly, “And I’d do it, but then I’d have to go to the bother of picking you up again.

If I left you here, someone would remember that I recommended you for the pope’s kitchen and I’d end up in the dungeons of Sant’ Angelo too.

It’s certainly not that I care what happens to you. ”

“Certainly not.” The moist night air felt good on Lorenzo’s face, and he breathed deeply as they left the confines of the palace behind them. “I’d never make that mistake in judgment.”

“That is good.” Luigi’s powerful arm tightened around Lorenzo’s waist to support more of his weight.

“A man would have to be a dunce to care what happens to a madman who’d risk having his neck twisted off by Corella just to steal from the papal treasury.

What’s in this chest to make you take such a chance? ”

Lorenzo saw the dull, gleaming waters of the Tiber directly ahead and exultation surged through him as he realized there was no sound of pursuit behind.

Per Dio , they had done it!

“There’s a gift in the chest. A special gift for a very good friend.”