Jo Kilian - The Tiepolo mystery

Lorenzo didn’t pay any attention to the unusually sharp word exchange between the servant and master. His thoughts were lost in the moonlight behind the window, where snowflakes danced and covered the world in powdery sugar. Peacefully and inviting it lay, this contrast to noise and sticky air in the ballroom.

“Let’s have a snowball fight.”

“Stop talking nonsense!” Domenico said. “Father is awaiting us.”

“Father is engrossed in his plans”, Lorenzo replied.

“Or he has to catch Cristina”, Angelo added.

“You’re all boring”, and with that, Lorenzo took off, through the middle of the corridor, down the next dark alley, around the corner and then another one. Just the light of the moon, streaming in from the windows, showed him the way. An urgent wish to spend the night playing in the snowstorm drove him on. Behind him, Domenico’s calls faded, but Angelo’s heavy steps were close on his heels.

Then finally, after he ran down a narrow staircase to the ground floor, a gust of cold air blew at him. A door stood open. Servants were rushing through, carrying blankets and coats. One of them was even juggling hot stones. When Lorenzo stepped outside into the enchanting night, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

In the torchlight, rows of horse-drawn sleighs were parked in the inner courtyard. In one of the sleighs, six musicians, warmly dressed, were attempting to shield their delicate instruments from snowflakes. It seemed to be a futile undertaking. Within the shortest time, a new layer of snow fell upon violins, oboes and horns, as well as the many heads in this amazing festivity. It goes without saying: it was quite a noble party.

Magnificent glittering garments as well as chest armor were studded with golden and silver decoration. Stunning exotic uniforms from Turkish pashas, Roman emperors or Greek conquerors shone under the flickering torchlight. The faces were masked. Lorenzo believed he recognized one of the costumed warrior as Alexander the Great; in another, Caesar, and in a third warrior the embodiment of Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, combat and art.

But it was the splendidly, beautifully designed sleighs that truly set Lorenzo in awe. They weren’t just simple sleds, constructed in rough uncomfortable woodwork; they were truly masterpieces of carpentry and wrought-iron craftsmanship, depicting scenes like an aggressive ram with curved horns, protecting his master with his body from multiple attacks, an enormous boar with huge tusks, or a deer with enormous antlers. Only one animal was shown as defeated – a brown-spotted jaguar, lying on his back, twisting in pain from an arrow that had pierced its side. Its tongue had flopped out of its mouth, and lay upon its spiky teeth. Its paw, adorned with sharp claws, was raised in a last counter-defense.

What a masterpiece!

“Aren’t you Tiepolo, the maestro’s youngest son?”

The sudden question came from a passenger in a sled, dressed in a costume representing Pallas Athena. In one hand, she held a spear. Upon her head a curved helmet pointed toward the front, and golden armor, with the twisted serpent hair of a Gorgonian, adorned her breast.

Stunned, Lorenzo didn’t know what to do but to bow, and stuttered, “Yes, Your Highness, I’m Lorenzo …”

The goddess laughed. “I’m not a highness, just a countess. Did I confuse you that much?”

Yes she did.

“You are beautiful, almost sinful”, she said, and lifted his chin with her hand. Her piercing Medusa eyes made him shiver.

“It’s not right to compliment me like that”, he answered nervously. “I’m just an honorable prince’s modest servant. You, though, are a goddess.”

She laughed in a refreshingly natural way, “Comme c’est merveilleux! I wish my unfaithful husband used your words and had your irresistible charm.” She stroked his hair. “Oh you, my young beautiful chevalier. I am sure you are a feast for all women’s eyes.”

Now he blushed, and that in the middle of a snowstorm. His throat was dry. It was impossible to utter a word.

And what did she do? She laughed again, not evilly or scornfully; it sounded more like a pleasant cooing, as if her fantasy was filled with a longed-for passion.

To Lorenzo’s rescue, a call echoed across the courtyard, more like a command.

“En selle!” Ready!

A whip crack resounded through the courtyard. The sleigh drivers took their seats in the back of the carriages – young, noble students or officers steered the sleighs with whips, brakes and feet for their passengers.

Lorenzo stepped back, cleared his throat and bowed. “I wish you a pleasant trip.”

“You look a little sad”, the countess said. “How would you like to accompany me?”

He couldn’t believe his ears. “Pardon me countess, what did you say?”

“There’s enough room for both of us, and it’s cozy and warm.”

Lorenzo hesitated. Is he allowed to accept such an invitation? It must be against the prince’s court rules, since so much emphasis was laid upon etiquette and ceremonies.

The whip lashed out again.

“Allez! On y va!” Let’s go!

“Now! Before it’s too late.”

The sled began to move. Lorenzo looked around, still hesitant, but with an increasing desire for adventure. When Angelo and Domenico suddenly came running through the door and into the courtyard, his decision was made.

What the hell?! Damn the etiquette!

He leaped onto the sled, and landed between the countess’s thighs, ignoring the calls from his brother and guardian.

They drove through the gate, out to the large square in front of the residence. The moonlight shone upon the freshly fallen snow. No one dared to get that close to the palace, especially at night, knowing guards would chase them away. And more than ever now, since the sleigh outing was an exception, and no one knew who it was for. Torch fires flickered between the sleds, whips cracked like battle yelling, commands were hollered, while the sleighs carried passengers clad in fearful conqueror costumes.

Only one thing couldn’t be waved away with a flick of a hand: the music. Instead of military marching sounds accompanying the warriors, the small orchestra played gay dance music. What a bizarre scene!

Lorenzo and the countess listened to the carriage drivers’ shouts: “Giddy up! Run!” followed by high whirring whipping sounds and the snorting from horses.

“Are you having fun?” Lorenzo heard from close behind.

He nodded with conviction, not because he had to, but from true enthusiasm. What an adventure! He couldn’t believe he was actually sitting with a real countess in a sleigh; better said, in a wonderful chariot. Behind and in front of them were many other carriages, drawn by terrifying-looking horses. It would have been highly unwise to approach any of them, for they were certainly anything but harmless. They were decorated with bushes, ribbons and other ornaments, so that they could be taken as bears, lions, eagles or swans. What an awesome sight! Never before had he experienced anything like it – not even in Venice, where the epitome of carnivals took place. In Venice, he was only a craftsman’s son, but here he was the protégé of a true countess.

They passed the gardens and a church. Tiny lights, held by curious townspeople, emerged in the dark.

“Grab that basket, in the front of the sleigh”, rang a command in Lorenzo’s ear. He obeyed without questioning. The first thing he found was a hot stone for warming the feet, and then he discovered a smaller basket filled with sweets and fruit.

“What should I do with it?” he asked.

“Throw, of course.”

“Throw? Why?”

The countess took it from his hand and gave the driver a signal. The whip swished and the sled sped up to the front line. Then something unbelievable happened. The countess started to throw things at the Turkish pasha.