In The Lion's Sign. Stefano Vignaroli

the letter er.

      «I speak with Countess Lucia Baldeschi-Balleani?»

      «To serve you! To what do I owe the honour...?»

      «Let me present myself! I am His Imperial and Royal Highness, the Archduke Sigismondo of Habsburg Lorena, titular Grand Duke of Tuscany and Grand Master of the Sacred Military Order of Santo Stefano Pope and Martyr.»

      «Damn!», Andrea escape in a whisper, not to let his voice to the microphone of the telephone. «Maybe he decided to continue to finance our archaeological research!»

      Lucia put her index finger in front of her nose, to tell her companion to be quiet.

      «It’s a pleasure for me learning of your interest in my person. To what do I owe, if I may ask, this honour?»

      «I see that you have received an excellent education, and for that I must congratulate you and your family. But let’s come to the argument. You see, according to the article 5 of the present Statutes of the Order of St. Stephen, and in accordance with the ancient Statutes of the Order itself, every year I choose three noblemen to be raised to the rank of Bailiff Grand Cross of Justice, in consideration of high merits acquired in life, work and study. Never before this honour has been reserved to a woman. But, seen the results of your research on the origins and history of your noble family, I felt for this year to make a break from the rule. And I decided that you are the one chosen by me to be named Knight of the Grand Cross of Bailiff. Therefore, I officially invite you to the investiture ceremony, which will be held in Florence on the day of Holy Christmas.»

      «But, Christmas will be just in a fortnight! I have commitments, both work and personal. You know, my fiancé, my family», Lucia tried to take time, a bit confused.

      «Don’t worry. Come to Florence with your fiancé or other members of your family. Clearly, the trip for you is entirely at my expense. I am already e-mailing you the reservation for the train Frecciarossa Ancona - Florence, round trip, first class. I look forward to it!», and hung up, without even giving her time to answer.

      Andrea and Lucia looked at each other with astonished air, then they burst into laughter.

      «Knight of Gran Croce del Balì! My respects, Lady!», Andrea declaimed with mocking air, bowing in a bow. «I think I have enough reasons to begin to be jealous. At my expenses, I will accompany you to Florence, there isn’t to be trusted.»

      «But come on! His Imperial and Royal Excellency will certainly be an old caryatid», Lucia replied with an amused air.

      «His Highness, not His Excellency», Andrea ran. «In any case, the voice seemed quite youthful. I don’t trust it, I don’t trust it. I will go with you, if you decide to go, whether you ever let yourself go alone! And then we can’t spend Christmas one away from the other, there’s not even a chance. Florence is a beautiful city, one of the most romantic cities in Italy. Better not to waste the opportunity to give you the most exciting kiss of your life over the Arno river, on the Ponte Vecchio.»

      «Oh, and since when have you become romantic, you who have always been a pile of muscles and stubbornness?»

      «Well, since you made me jealous!», Andrea smiled. «But beyond that, Florence is a beautiful city of art and we could combine the useful with the delightful. After all, someone wrote, “Beauty will save the world” or am I wrong?»

      «Fedor Dostoevsky in “The Idiot”. Before you go out of your way to pronounce a quotation, try to be sure you know what it is all about, otherwise, rather than the figure of the scholar, you’ll do the following...»

      «...Of the idiot!», he broke out in a laugh, approached Lucia, held her in a warm embrace, brought his lips closer to her perfumed face and began to kiss her.

      «The last word is always yours, eh?», Lucia managed to pronounce, while she was panting, trying to catch her breath and taking off her blouse. She felt Andrea’s hands go looking for the bra buckle to unbuckle it, then she saw him take off his shirt to remain shirtless too. The urgency of the bodies in seeking mutual contact dragged them into the bedroom, where fresh sheets welcomed the two lovers now completely naked.

      «Beauty will save the world», Andrea repeated, making her understand this time the allusion was addressed only to her.

       

       CHAPTER 7

      Riding in the Po Valley in that season was considered by Andrea almost worse than sailing in the open sea. Accustomed to the hills and mountains of his beloved lands, he would never have expected to advance by leagues and leagues in a completely flat terrain. But the worst element was the humidity, the fog that made you lose your sense of direction, so much was thick in certain places, and infiltrated under clothes until you get to torment the bones. Not to mention the paths, which often got lost in the dense bush or led straight to swamps and marshes, impossible to cross, long and endless turns, if not to go back on their own steps to choose another branch of the road. And luckily the two soldiers who accompanied him were practical of the places, otherwise Andrea would have already given up to reach Ferrara, throwing himself on the ground and remaining at the mercy of the traps of the wild nature of the Eridano plain. Finally, coming out from the wood of Porporana, a wide stretch of cultivated countryside extended, towards the village of Pallantone, to the bank of the river Po. After midday, the sun had succeeded in triumphing over the humidity, and so Andrea noticed, not without disappointment, that without protection from the forest and fog, he and the two armigers who accompanied him were completely out in the open and easy target of any malicious attackers. He didn’t even in time to finish this consideration, that two knights strangely barded overcame them of great career, lifting mud splashes and brandishing over their heads daggers a little shorter than those that Andrea was used to use.

      «Who are they?», Andrea asked worried.

      «Lansquenets. The swords you have seen are called Lanzichenette, or Katzbalger. The latter term, in their language, means cat fur. Someone means that, being the bearers of this weapon of low social extraction, they are unable to buy themselves a real scabbard and therefore use the skin of a domestic feline in place of it. But it is not so. Many Lansquenets, while fighting as mercenary soldiers, belong to the rich bourgeoisie or the Teutonic nobility. The term Katzbalger actually refers to the ferocious ferocity with which they fight. In battle they are able to throw themselves between the first lines of the enemy pike men, passing under the forest of the protruding spears and vibrating those swords like cleavers, in order to break them. But they have no qualms about mutilating their opponents either, aiming at parts of their body not protected by armour. Listen to me, my Lord, they are dangerous people. Better to stay away from them.»

      «If they are as dangerous as you report, how come they are free to roam our lands like this?»

      «They are mercenaries, and therefore free to put themselves in the pay of the Lord who pays them better. The worst of them are those paid in double money. They are the most ruthless, trained to fight on the front line or in areas considered high risk. And therefore they are paid with double pay.»

      «Doesn’t the term “double money” mean that they have no scruples about putting themselves at the service of two masters at the same time, infiltrating as traitors or spies between the ranks of the enemy?»

      «Maybe even! I have told you so. These are people who are not to be trusted. But go on!», Fulvio, the trustworthy armiger, continued. «The village of Pallantone is renowned for its taverns. They cook their game like nowhere else that I know of...»

      «...And they accompany it with an excellent sparkling red wine. A true delicacy», Geraldo, the other armiger who had never spoken until then, added.

      Andrea, crossing the streets of the village, noticed several signs of inns and taverns, but his companions headed safely to the main square, where a flag sign indicated in Gothic letters the Guardians’ Inn of the embankments. In fact, from the square you could distinctly hear the sound of water rushing through the floodplain just behind the buildings on that side. Andrea and his companions tied the mounts to the rings fixed in the outer wall of the tavern,