Niccolò can safely return to the palace only on the day after St. Stephen’s. He is so eager to see Dianora that he leaves the house very early in the morning.
As he crosses the main square, he realizes it is market day. The vendors are setting up their stalls and tables, moving about with difficulty because of the bitter cold.
A number of the duke’s guards come out, dragging a heavy object wrapped in cloth. Niccolò is struck by the absolute silence and tension in the air, and by the frigid cruelty that the armed men emanate.
He slows down to watch, instinctively cautious. The guards stop, bend down, and remove the cloth. They dump something on the ground. Two merchants walk over to it and look, then retreat immediately.
Other people slowly and carefully go and see what it is. Among them is a middle-aged woman bundled up in heavy woolen clothes. Niccolò decides to go look, too, trying to hear what people are saying as he does. Everyone is silent. A few people mutter in hushed voices. A woman peeks at it, then quickly turns away, pale, wavering unsteadily on her feet.
Niccolò pushes his way through the merchants to see. It’s a body that has been decapitated and cut in two lengthwise. Lying next to the corpse is a long saw with a wooden handle and a knife covered in blood. A nauseating odor of freshly-butchered meat hangs in the air.
The head is farther off, sitting in a puddle of dark blood. He recognizes the face despite the deformed features and disturbing grimace. It’s Ramiro de Lorqua, his mouth and eyes wide open.
Niccolò looks away, disgusted, and walks up to a guard.
“What was the man’s crime?”
The guard looks him up and down; his accent says that he is a foreigner and his mantle says that he is wealthy. “Corruption and theft. He was executed on orders of His Excellency the Duke.”
There is a murmur from the crowd. Some people look satisfied. A young man with a fleshy mouth, hard face, and high temples looks downright pleased. An adolescent shudders with horror. Other people come and look, curious but hesitant. Niccolò imagined the man would be punished but never in such a cruel manner. Borgia certainly doesn’t do things halfway.
“Was he sawn in half alive?”
“We decapitated him first; we’re not Turks!”
The town crier appears, drum tied tightly to his chest and drumsticks in hand. He’s been sent to proclaim the news. He glances uneasily at the cadaver and proceeds with a drumroll. At first hesitant, he calls out the news, gradually becoming more certain of himself: His Excellency hereby delivers to the loyal people of Romagna the corpse of the most vile de Lorqua, whose crimes and abuses of power, including ribald methods of tax collection, corruption, and depraved cruelty, as well as an attempt to deceive the prince, warranted his swift execution; all the grain that the criminal had stored away will be distributed to the good people; the magnificent duke will now and forever make certain that the hard-working and peaceful people of Romagna receive the fair and just governance they deserve.
A guard spears de Lorqua’s head with a lance and drives the long pole into a crevice in between two rocks. Everyone looks up at it. Niccolò notices both their satisfaction and shock at the ferocity of the spectacle; he shivers with the same deadly excitement he felt when he watched the joust. Suddenly, he feels very weary, as if the fever has come back. It occurs to him that Valentino will be both loved and feared at the same time. How skilled he was at spilling blood and inventing a convenient reason for it. The people from Romagna will believe him and, moreover, all the crimes that were committed in the region will be attributed to someone who is no longer alive.
Now, before he can return to the palace, he has to go back to the Falchi house and write to the Republic, informing them of this recent event. As soon as he has finished, he wakes up Totto, the messenger on duty, and entrusts him with two missives. These actions manage to dull some of the memory of the violence done to de Lorqua’s body.
Eventually, Ennio arrives with a message from the owners of the house; they heard about the execution—word gets around quickly—and they’ve decided to celebrate with a lunch and would like to know if he, as their guest, would like to join them.
He excuses himself with a smile; an envoy can’t participate in such events, he is obliged to follow protocol, but he would gladly send his steward in his place. It’s a show of courtesy to the Falchi family, as well as a way of finding out more. He would gladly send Ardingo too, if he were there, because four ears are better than two, but he is out patrolling the land in the direction of Rimini to discover where Borgia’s troops are headed.
In the meantime, Niccolò continues to reflect on all aspects of the execution. Was the goal only to offer something to the people? Or did Ramiro de Lorqua commit some other crime? Was he guilty of treason? Was his death a message to someone specific? Perhaps to other condottieri? If so, why? And what did that mean for Niccolò if it was?
Obviously, the execution mainly benefitted Cesare: after conquering Romagna with great cruelty, he now brought about peace with the same ferocity. In this he was far more decisive than Florence, who, in order not to be considered cruel, chose not to punish the leaders of Arezzo, which only led to further revolt and general disorder, killing, and kidnapping that continued to harm entire cities; the prince, by killing de Lorqua, harmed just one man.
Although this is what Niccolò truly thinks, he realizes that he will never be able to say as much to Dianora. He is ashamed to admit it but he realizes how important it is to see the coherence inherent in Valentino’s actions. By analyzing the oppressor’s actions, Niccolò is not hurting anyone, he says to reassure himself. He is merely fulfilling his role as writer.