Chapter XVI

The Duke of Lorraine strode up the high stone staircase like a younger man, buoyed by the confidence of victory. He had spent a life in the Walled City climbing up and down tower stairs, and it seemed to get harder every year. But power was demonstrated in towers, and when he could no longer climb to the top of the many family towers, his authority would be diminished just a little. Many times his knees creaked and cracked as he climbed the steps, but he was unwilling to show any sign of it to the men around him. Leonardo had once shown him the design for a cage that could be constructed inside a tower, with counterweights on pullies, to allow a man to travel up the top and back down with ease. He would talk to him more about it one day. But not today.

He emerged onto the rooftop of the tower, puffing only slightly, to a beautiful sunny day. That was good. Too much wind or rain would have not been ideal. The tower top was ringed with men in armour, to protect him and the Duchess, who was already there waiting for him. She nodded to him and smiled. She wouldn’t have missed this for the world. He hoped the armed men would not be needed though. His steward was waiting for him and beckoned him over to the tower’s edge. He held up a hand a moment. He would get his breath back fully first. Would compose himself. The Medicis could wait. He took several deep breaths in and out, so that he had firm control over his voice and breathing, then gave his wife a smile and nodded to his steward.

The man tapped a pair of soldiers on the shoulder and they moved away, allowing a space for the two of them to step forward. The Duke looked across to the nearby tower where a troop of Medici soldiers were similarly assembled. Cosimo Medici was standing in the centre of them, hands on hips, wearing a fine velvet cap instead of a helmet or such, as if unafraid of an arrow or spear that might be cast at him, although the Duke suspected he was heavily armoured under his robes, just in case. He was a brave man, but tempered that with precautions. You didn’t head a family like the Medicis as long as he had if you were not.

The Duke glanced down into the streets below. They were full of soldiers. Lines of moustached Lorraines facing lines of bearded Medici men. This needed to be played carefully, he thought, or they would see much blood shed today. He looked back across to Cosimo Medici and watched him raise a brass ship’s trumpet to his lips and call out, “What has the murderer to say for himself that would possibly interest me?”

Of course he was interested to hear what the Duke had to say, or he would not be there. He had expected the exchange to begin with such taunts and chose not respond to them. Not today. His steward passed him a similar ship’s trumpet and he lifted the cold metal and called back. “It was not us who perpetrated this foul deed upon your house.”

There was silence for a moment and then Cosimo shouted back. “No. The Lorraines have never engaged in murder, have they.”

The Duke felt his blood rising a little but held it in check. It was a part of the game, he knew. The first man to lose his composure would lose the game. Everything was a game inside the Walled City. But today the stakes were not just power, they were life and death. But nobody was going to die today, the Duke avowed. He could win this with no deaths.

“Upon my family’s honour it was not us who perpetrated this foul deed upon your house,” he called back.

“And what honour would that be?” Cosimo called in return. The Duke felt the men around him shuffle a little. They would not tolerate this for long, he knew. Not such insults to their honour. Cosimo knew it too.

The Duke was about to call back that he swore it upon his ancestors, but that would be handing Cosimo the opportunity to insult his fathers, and that might be the point at which one of his soldiers on the tower or on the streets below might lose control and call back insults, which would quickly degenerate and the men below would soon be at each other’s throats with spears and swords. Didn’t that oaf, Cosimo, know he was playing with fire? But of course he knew. He had something up his sleeve if he was willing to provoke a confrontation. He had carefully assessed the situation and felt he had the advantage. Never enter into a battle that you have not already won, was one of the Medici doctrines after all.

He turned back to his wife and smiled again. She smiled also. The Duke then raised the ship’s trumpet slowly and called out, “I have not come here today to trade insults, but to seek a peace treaty. One long enough to provide evidence of our family’s innocence in this foul murder.”

“Such a treaty would need to be a century long if that is your intent,” Cosimo called back.

“I would accept your suggestion,” the Duke countered. The men around him jostled a little in merriment. They were glad to see their lord gaining the upper hand. But he could almost feel Cosimo’s glare across the distance between them. He lifted the trumpet and shouted back. “It is unacceptable.”

“Two months then,” the Duke replied. He saw Cosimo look to his advisor. The two men talked a moment. Not about the possibility of a two month peace treaty, of course, but of how to next respond in a manner that allowed them to appear in control. But the Duke had played his hand carefully. A short peace treaty was a reasonable request that would be hard to refuse without appearing intent on war and unwilling to at least consider the possibility that others were the guilty parties. Cosimo called back the answer he had expected. “No. One month.”

The Duke smiled. But then Cosimo called back, “And you will remove all your troops from the streets during that period.”

The Duke had not expected that. “As will you?” he called back.

“And leave my family unprotected from an attack?” he replied. The Duke gritted his teeth. This Medici was quick and cunning.

“I will half the number of my troops,” the Duke replied. He could see Cosimo smiling broadly. The man felt he had a victory in his hands. “But be warned,” the Duke called to him, “We do not rely solely on troops for our own safety.”

“What else?” Cosimo taunted. “Whales? I will tell my men to beware of them on the streets.” His men gave a hearty laugh that carried easily across the distance to him. But the Duke paid no more attention to it than he would a slight breeze. The time for talking was over. He held a hand aloft and momentarily a large shadow eclipsed the sun. The men on both towers looked up in amazement as a gigantic eagle rose up behind them and circled around in the sky above them. The murmur of fear carried as easily as the mocking laughter and the Duke waved his hand at the Medici tower. The huge bird swooped rapidly, descending on the tower and breaking in the air with a mighty whump of its wings, pausing long enough to grab one of the soldiers in a clawed foot and ascend back into the sky. The soldiers on the tower top were left cowering around Cosimo, who had also dropped to the floor, losing his fine velvet hat. The eagle rose up and up into the sky and then spiralled down to the Lorraine tower, depositing the Medici soldier there.

That bit was done a little awkwardly, though, and the bird almost dropped the man to the streets below, which would have been catastrophic. He landed on the edge of the battlements, and the Lorraine men grabbed him and saved him from falling, dragging him back to safety. The bird circled the tower once more and dived away, disappearing somewhere in the city streets.

The Duke watched the men on the Medici tower slowly climb to their feet and hopelessly try and restore some sort of order. They were far too shaken, though. The Duke lifted his ship’s trumpet to his lips and called out over the mutterings of men below and from the tower opposite, “A one month peace treaty then. And we shall return your man unharmed.” Well, relatively unharmed, he thought. The poor man looked like he’d take some time to recover.