Arezzo, Italy
‘You will leave all to me.’ Sforza was uncharacteristically short with him as they waited in an outer room of the Palazzo del Podestà, the palace of the signoria, and home of the tyrant Conte di Arezzo, Guido Malatesta. ‘Any question His Grace raises concerning costs or revenue you will not answer under any circumstances. Do you understand?’
Jared nodded but was uneasy. Sforza was obviously perturbed. The sight of so many armed men in gaudy costume standing watching them, easily outnumbering the servants, didn’t help. The palace was grand and richly appointed, plainly meant to intimidate.
‘Do remember, I beg, all I told you of the dignities and civilities of this court. You are a foreigner but will not be forgiven slights.’
An official strode through the doors and barked something at Sforza, who stretched his mouth to a smile and bowed.
‘Come. We are bid.’
They followed along a colonnade, across a manicured garden and into much grander surroundings. Then it was down a corridor lined with banners and portraits to a massive door flanked with ceremonial guards.
‘This is the signore now,’ Sforza said tightly. ‘Do not forget it.’
The doors were flung wide and they entered.
Sforza fell to one knee with head bowed and Jared followed his lead.
‘Come forward, Sforza, you villain,’ a lazy voice commanded in Italian. ‘You’ve something for me, I’ve heard.’
‘Highness, I most certainly have,’ Sforza replied with an oily confidence, rising and moving forward to stand before the dais, on which in a grossly ornamented chair, sat the most terrifying man Jared had ever seen. An iron jaw, deeply incised lines in his face and with dark eyes filled with menace he radiated lethal power.
‘Then who is this you’ve dragged before me?’ Malatesta cast a disinterested glance at Jared, who bowed as low as he could.
He bit into a pomegranate, tearing the skin and spitting the result to one side.
‘Sire, he is the reason I sought audience,’ Sforza said importantly. ‘A gentleman alchemist but recently returned from studies in the land of the Saracens.’
‘Oh?’ The gaze was unnerving.
‘I met him quite by chance in England, Your Excellency, while he was engaged in the most remarkable and dramatic of experiments.’
‘What is that to me, Sforza?’
‘As soon as I perceived its nature, I immediately realised that it would have the most lively application in your service were you to be insulted again by the vile Perugian Guelphs, and I naturally hurried here as quickly as possible and … here we are, sire.’
Malatesta stopped eating and leant forward, alert and dangerous.
‘Tell!’
‘Your Highness, Messer Jared is able to conjure heaven’s thunder and lightning at his command. Not only that, but in the same act he may invisibly reach out in the blink of an eye to strike dead any he chooses.’
‘You should know better than to bring tales of such dog-vomit to me, Sforza! If you—’
‘Sire. With my own eyes I saw his powers and do vouch upon my honour for its truth.’
The deadly eyes swivelled to Jared again, speculative, rapacious.
Not understanding a word, Jared gave a weak smile.
‘What is it you’re offering, you rogue?’
‘My friend here is able to create an apparatus that will allow any man to do likewise. A number of these, operated by your very own soldiers and set in the face of the Perugian mercenaries, will clear the field with terror and death and leave you master of the battlefield.’
‘Your words are those of a pedlar, Sforza,’ Malatesta said dismissively. ‘And I won’t have it! You’ll next be asking me for a sack of florins for this foreigner to fritter away on his magic with nothing at all at the end of it, isn’t that so?’
‘Sire!’ Sforza said in a shocked tone. ‘I have a reputation that I hold dear. If you so desire, I shall ask Messer Jared if he will be so good as to demonstrate his powers before you, that there can be no doubt.’
A flicker of surprise was quickly followed by a crisp, ‘Do so.’
With a studied dignity he turned to Jared and spoke in English. ‘He asks for a demonstration. Look confident and smile as you give words of assent, if you please.’
Sforza bowed to Malatesta. ‘Messer Jared agrees to your request.’
‘Here and now!’
‘Oh, sire, that would not be a good idea. The sulphurous exhalations would spoil your priceless tapestries. Can we not …?’
‘Tomorrow. At the Villa d’Arezzo. Do not fail me, Sforza, or you will rue it!’