Michael White - The Medici secret

Captain Davonik was a big man with a long, pepper and salt beard, dark brown eyes and weather-beaten cheeks. He had followed this route to Ancona a thousand times and people claimed he had brine for blood. 'What is it, Kulin? You look like you've seen a ghost'

The young boy was shaking and could barely form words. The captain gripped Kulin's upper arms. 'Calm yourself

The boy pointed mutely to the railings on the port side. All around the ship, as far as the eye could see, the surface of the water was a mass of dead fish. They were of all shapes and sizes and species. They bobbed in the water, a thousand eyes staring blankly at the leaden sky. It was nearly sunset and Cosimo was alone in the hold sitting at an upturned crate that served as a table. Thoughts jostled for his attention, each one madder than the last. It was dark here save for a flickering circle of yellow produced by a single candle perched on the upturned box. He was surrounded by boxes of spices and exotic foods from Turkey, Persia and beyond. There were baskets filled with fabrics of many textures and a rainbow of colours. Soon these would be transformed into the latest fashions and sold to the wealthy of Naples and Genoa, Venice and Florence. There could even be in this very shipment, he mused, the silk for his beloved's wedding gown.

In front of him lay an opened book, a volume which would have been considered the greatest prize in any library in any city in the world. It was a tract by a Greek historian named Thucydides, who, almost a thousand years earlier, had composed a funeral oration for the famed Athenian politician, Pericles. Cosimo read the words aloud to himself: '"And we shall assuredly not be without witnesses. There are mighty monuments of our power which will make us the wonder of this and of succeeding ages."' Contessina appeared in the doorway. She was carrying a flagon of wine and a large bowl of bread and fruit. 'Sit, Cosi,' she said and smiled gently. 'I swear I've not seen you eat since we came aboard.' 'You think I need fattening up?' 'Definitely.'

Contessina placed the wine and food on the makeshift table and sat down next to Cosimo. 'I'm not at all hungry,' he said. 'Nor me. But we should eat.'

Cosimo poured some wine. The ruby liquid, rough and potent, came from vineyards close to Ragusa. 'Has Captain Davonik offered any kind of explanation for what happened this morning?' he asked wearily.

Contessina shook her head. 'None whatsoever. He told me he has been working the Adriatic for over thirty years. He was younger than the boy Kulin on his first voyage, and he has never experienced anything like this. He's completely mystified.'

'If I allowed my sense of reason to falter for a moment, I'd say this was the Devil's work.'

Niccoli entered the room. 'I need to talk to you about Ambrogio,' he said.

Contessina offered him some wine. He refused, but sat down at the table.

'It must have been two hours before dawn. I could not sleep. I kept thinking about that rat in Ambrogio's room. Eventually I got up, and went on deck.

'The night was unusually calm. I could see the island of Lastova a long way off to starboard. And then I noticed a basket had been lowered over the side of the ship. And there, lying flat on his belly, was Ambrogio, with his hands in the water. I saw a flash of green. It came and went so quickly, I couldn't be sure.' 'The vial,' Contessina said. 'Why didn't he tell us?' From the deck came loud shouts.

Cosimo was first to the ladder. He held out a restraining hand to Contessina when he reached the top.

Ambrogio Tommasini was almost naked. A filthy vest and ragged undergarments clung to his wet body. He was crouching like a wild animal, face and arms covered in huge sores and swellings that seeped a yellowy liquid. His eyes were wild. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. His hair, once a beautiful mop of blond curls, had fallen out, except for a few stringy wet patches plastered to his bloodied scalp.

The captain and the ship's mate were standing a few feet in front of him, staring, petrified.

'Get back!' Tommasini screamed. 'Get back. Don't touch me. I am cursed.' Then he spotted Cosimo and the others. 'Cosi… Cosi.' Tears tumbled down his cheeks merging with the blood. It began to rain. 'Ambrogio, what have you done?' Tommasini looked puzzled. 'Why did you keep this thing a secret? Why didn't you…?'

Tommasini took two stumbling steps towards them. A crazed expression broke through the grotesque distortions of his face.

'Cosimo, oh noble, virtuous Cosimo. You should hear yourself. Perhaps then you would realise why you make so many people want to puke.'

The rain was now coming down in earnest. 'What did you hope to do, Ambrogio?' 'I had my instructions, Cosimo.' 'What do you mean?'

'Surely you don't imagine you and the Humanist League are the only ones interested in the findings of men like Valiani, do you?' He coughed and retched. Blood splattered the deck. When he lifted his head again, he looked like a ghoul from Hell. 'And Valiani,' he gasped. 'Well, he hasn't exactly been secretive about his travels, has he? The Holy Father knew of Golem Korab before any of us.' 'The Holy Father? What are you talking about?'

'You have a short memory, Cosimo. You forget. My father was chief theologian to Cardinal Baldassare Cossa, as His Holiness was once known. I grew up in the household of the future pope.' Tommasini tried to smile, but the result was a horrible gargoyle's grin. 'You're telling me Pope John knew of this vial?'

'He, he knew the old monastery held secrets. An emissary from Macedonia mentioned the place, years ago and then…' Tommasini looked to the sky, his face contorted in agony. 'The Holy Father learned that Valiani and others were on the trail. I was called to Rome to speak with His Holiness. He knew of my links with you. I was well placed to pass on any information I might stumble upon.' He grimaced again and clutched his side. 'Then, when Valiani turned up out of the blue, I felt as though I had been handed it all on a plate. I admit I did not relish the prospect of a journey into the Macedonian mountains but, well, it was for the most noble of causes.' 'Oh?'

'Yes, Cosimo, believe it or not, other people do have different ideals. My master, Pope John has enemies bearing down on him from all sides. He is a military man as well as a spiritual leader… He, he…' Tommasini's legs began to buckle under him. He fell to his knees. 'The Pope… hoped there would be some… something of great value in the library of Golem Korab…'

Tommasini's eyes burned with profound self-loathing. 'Oh God, Cosimo, my friend, my loyal friend… I'm so sorry… I, I… opened the vial…'

His lips continued moving, but now nothing was coming out. With a low groan, he lurched forward like a half-empty sack of flour. They had all gathered on the deck of the Zadar, the captain and crew, Cosimo, Contessina and Niccolo Niccoli. Ambrogio Tommasini's body lay in a makeshift shroud perched on the edge of the ship's railing. Spots of rain hit the deck creating dark brown smudges the size of ducats.

Cosimo could not stop himself thinking of those who had died, lost in exchange for what? Ideas, a few scraps of paper, words, words left by long-dead men. The pain was almost too much to bear. He looked up to the sky and let the droplets of rain spatter on his face, let them run down his cheeks, impostors for the tears he still could not shed.

Had the Pope known of the vial all along? Cosimo could only think the worst and must act accordingly. The vial must be hidden away and never be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Lifting his head he said, 'Dear Lord, take my friend Ambrogio who was cut down so cruelly and so young. Ambrogio fell into temptation, a temptation that destroyed him. He has suffered terribly for his sins. I pray his soul may rest in eternal peace, for he was a good man, a true and loyal friend, a man, weak like us all. I forgive him and I pray that in your infinite wisdom you, Lord, may forgive him too.'