“Cesare!” Lucrezia whirled around as her footman announced me. Trunks of clothing, hairpieces, jewelry, bedding, and linens surrounded her. “Oh, you should have come later, germà! We are in quite a tizzy of unpacking at the moment.” She started toward me, a perceptive maid whisking a small case of jewels out of her path so she would not trip.
“Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?” I teased as she kissed my cheek.
“It’s best Juan didn’t hear you say that,” she said, but I noted, with childish glee, that she didn’t correct me. “Oh, dear, I can send for some wine or food if you like, but much of the palazzo is still in disarray.” She waved her hand at the chaos of her bedroom.
The Holy Father had moved his women—Lucrezia, Giulia Farnese, and Adriana de Mila—to the Palazzo Santa Maria in Portico, so he might make use of the secret underground tunnel connecting it to the Vatican Palace.
“Do not trouble yourself,” I said. “I came to see how you were settling in, but it seems that is still a work in progress.”
I had wanted to assure myself Lucrezia was well and pleased with the move. And despite her flustered words, there was a flush of pleasure in her cheeks and a smile in her eyes as she surveyed her new rooms, with their marble floors and plush carpet and cheerful frescoes of frolicking nymphs. The change in her status completely agreed with her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.
The exasperated look she turned on me was one only a thirteen-year-old girl could give to her brother who knows nothing of women’s matters. “Indeed there is not, Cesare,” she said. “I love you dearly, but I do not trust you to see that my gowns are unpacked and put away properly.”
I laughed. “You are wise to withhold your trust in that regard, I think. Very well.” I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I shall away, and hope you invite me to supper once you are settled.”
“I surely shall!” she said, turning and flouncing back to a trunk full of dresses.
I shook my head and chuckled as I left. Dear Lucrezia.
I left the palace and swung back up onto my horse to head home, but hesitated. Perhaps I might stop in a tavern for a drink. Since I’d only been going to see Lucrezia, I hadn’t dressed in my archbishop’s robes, so there would be little danger of my being recognized. I turned my horse sharply down an alley, a shortcut that would take me to a favorite tavern.
It happened so quickly, but still I cursed myself for not being more aware. A dagger whirred past my head, so close my hair moved in the breeze it created. I immediately flung myself from the saddle and slapped my horse’s rump. “Home!” I commanded him in one loud, terse voice, and he ran. He was a well-trained beast and would not stop until he reached his stable. I drew my dagger from where it was sheathed at my hip and spun to face my attacker.
He was almost upon me, another dagger in his hand. “Here, let’s have your purse, m’lord,” he growled, swiping at me.
I dodged his blade easily and attacked, but though he was clumsy in wielding his weapon, he was quick. What manner of footpad robs a nobleman in broad daylight? I wondered even as I fought him off.
I heard the whir of another dagger behind me, and leapt out of the way, spinning to see yet another man at the mouth of the alley. Well. This grew more interesting by the second.
In the split second I took to decide whether or not I would charge at him, thus eliminating his range and to hell with the first man, a sword suddenly protruded through the man’s chest. His eyes went wide with shock as he looked down at the blade, as though he could not believe what he was seeing.
Meanwhile, the first man, unaware of his companion’s fate, took advantage of my hesitation and seized me from behind, reaching up—he was rather smaller than I—to cut my throat. I spun in his grip, grabbing his arm and bending it at an unnatural angle, and drove my dagger into his heart, twisting it as it found its mark. Blood bubbled onto his lips, and I ripped out the dagger and let him fall to the dirty cobblestones to breathe his last.
Breathing hard, I raised my eyes to the mouth of the alley, where I found a slender man of medium height cleaning his sword in an unconcerned manner, as though he stabbed would-be thieves in alleyways all the time—and perhaps he did. “It seems I owe you a debt of thanks, my good man,” I said, eyeing him carefully, hoping he would prove friend and not foe.
“I’ve no doubt you would have handled them on your own, signore,” he said casually. I was surprised to hear a slight Valencian accent. A fellow Spaniard. I relaxed slightly. “I merely hurried the process along.” He sheathed his sword and looked up at me meaningfully. “Or should I say, ‘Your Excellency’?”
“Ah,” I said. “It seems my lack of ecclesiastical garb is not quite the disguise I had hoped.”
“More people know you in this city than you realize, Your Excellency,” he said. “The same is true of your brothers and sister.”
My entire body tensed at these words. “Is that a threat?” I demanded.
“Not at all,” he replied. “I am merely stating facts. There is great interest in the city in the doings of your family since Pope Alexander’s election.”
I searched his face for honesty. “That is true enough,” I said carefully. “Including our friends here.” I motioned to the two bodies now lying on the filthy ground of the alley.
The man snorted. “Indeed,” he said. “I’m sure a man as astute as Your Excellency is reputed to be realizes this was no mere robbery.”
“I suspected as much,” I said. “But you speak as though you have certain knowledge of their motives.”
“I suppose I do. They’ve been tailing you since you left Santa Maria in Portico.”
That stopped me cold. As clumsy as they’d been, I had not noticed. My mind had been wandering, intent on a drink.
Clearly these brigands knew where I’d come from, that my sister was now housed within the palace. Such moves did not occur without much of Rome being aware. Could she have been their target?
No, they’d followed me, after all. And Lucrezia and Giulia Farnese were protected as well as the pope himself. I need not worry myself overmuch for them.
Myself, on the other hand … bold as it was to attack an archbishop—and the pope’s son—in broad daylight, I knew that I had likely become an attractive target. Perhaps these brigands had been hoping to ransom me back to Pope Alexander. Perhaps others would try to do the same in the coming weeks, months, and years.
I glanced up at the man and saw he had been watching me think all this over. “What is your name?” I asked.
He bowed. “Miguel da Corella, Your Excellency. Known to my friends and comrades as Michelotto.”
“A Valencian, as I’d thought,” I said. “You must be in Rome to work for my father.”
“I’m a recent member of his personal guard, yes, my lord.”
“Why are you here and not guarding him, then?”
“Day off,” Michelotto said. “Lucky for you that it is.”
Another nobleman, jealous of his pride—like my brother Juan—would have taken offense, but I only laughed. I wanted this Michelotto on my side. “Indeed,” I said. “It would seem I need another pair of eyes to watch my back. In that case, I’ll give you another thirty percent of whatever you make now to serve as my personal bodyguard.”
A look of surprise crossed Michelotto’s face, but he quickly masked it. “Generous of you, my lord,” he said. “But how do you know you can trust me? Might I not be in league with your attackers?”
“If you were, I doubt you’d confess such to me right as I’ve offered to hire you,” I said.
He grinned broadly. “You and I will get on splendidly, my lord. I accept.”
I stepped over the body of the man he’d slain and shook his hand. “Good,” I said. “Accompany me to my palace in the Borgo and we’ll see about getting you some livery, and a room.”
Michelotto nodded agreeably and fell into step beside me. Even as we walked, his eyes were everywhere, scanning for potential threats. It appeared to be something he did naturally, without thinking.
I had chosen well.