Suicide Kings (32 page)

Pietro offered a sad smile. “Unfortunately that is one weakness of a masked mystery cult. Membership at differing levels don’t always communicate well. One element of the group did not know what the other planned. The lesser plan…that of the singular individual to poison your mother might have worked well, had not the greater plan already been in motion. Unnecessary though he might have been, Mancini nonetheless arrived in Firenze. He soon was recognized by his former paramour, the nun you knew as Sister Maria Innocentia, probably one of the most poorly named of all nuns.”

Diana furrowed her brows. “Was not Maria Innocentia herself part of the Council?”

Pietro half shrugged. “A recent addition, low ranked, and quite addled besides. A shadow of whatever murderous assassin she had once been when at the side of Mancini. No doubt Ophelia brought her into the fold of the Council, and likely regretted it soon after. It was unwise to bring one such as she into the Council, although she might have done the damage that she wrought, regardless. Mourning the death of your mother, of whom she was fond due to your mother’s charity to the sisterly order, and seeing the arrival of her former lover Mancini, she cleverly connected the two. My relationship with your mother was not very secret, and she managed to steal from me part of the note your mother had written to me detailing her concerns. It must have come as a shock to poor demented Maria Innocentia who had found some comfort in the mysteries of the Council.”

“But she was fond of my mother and her memory and, hoping to find my mother some justice, spoke to me at my mother’s funeral.”

Pietro nodded. “By then however, the Council had caught on to her and one of them chose to eliminate her. Again, whether a solitary choice, or the action of the leadership, it is difficult to say.”

“So this entire plot is founded on foolishness and fear.”

Pietro’s eyebrows raised a bit. “Fear of the stake. Fear of Savonarola. Fear of the fate that even now awaits me.”

She shook her head. “People are so idiotic.” Even as she said it she wondered what she truly meant. Were the Council foolish for following their errant beliefs down a disastrous road to its inevitable conclusion? Or were men like Savonarola and the Borgia Pope imprudent for turning the love of God into such a bloody business? How was it that men with such ease twisted the love of God for their own cruel instincts? Or perhaps she herself was simply naïve and God truly was the vindictive and jealous entity the priests sometimes made Him sound.

“You look despondent,” Pietro observed.

“I never managed to get any closer to the Council themselves. Even with Mancini dead, I still have no idea who killed my mother.”

Pietro smiled at her kindly. “Your accomplishments have been wondrous. You have the Council on the defensive. You’ve done so much more than Savonarola ever managed on his own.”

She cringed at his name. “It does not bother you at all to find I have become his pawn?”

“You each use the other for a mutual purpose. Predictable and I imagine, temporary.”

“Let us hope.” Diana went silent for a moment. “I would never have imagined how deeply mired in death I would become. I suppose I understood it might be necessary to use violence from the moment I took my father’s pistol. Even then it seemed such a fantastical idea. At first I worried I wouldn’t have the stomach for violence. Now I worry it has bothered me so little. Perhaps I am no better than the men I hunt.”

“You didn’t begin this,” he reminded her. “And many people would be surprised by what they are capable of when put to the test.” He licked his tongue along the outside of one of his tusks, an absentminded gesture. “I may be able to help you bring an end to the Council.”

She raised her eyebrows, listening.

He went on. “I’ve told you recruitment into the Council is hierarchical. As your mother recruited me, so I recruited a colleague as well. Aside from your mother, the only individual I ever considered a friend. Some way I have returned that favor, is it not? Assuming the Council still meet, following him could lead you to the rest. He’s only a low-level member, undoubtedly innocent of your mother’s death. I’ll give you his name under the condition you do not pass it on to Savonarola. He does not deserve this fate.” He motioned to his jail cell.

Diana nodded. “I agree to your condition. I will protect the identity of your friend to the best of my abilities.”

“That will suffice. His name is Rogelio Bercuoli. He is a cobbler of some repute, of average physique but possessed of mannerisms that alienate him from his fellow man. As with my physical afflictions, the result has been to isolate him from those who would be his companions. The Council offered him a social congress unavailable to him through more typical channels. I suppose this to be the case for many who joined, myself no exception.”

Diana consigned the name to memory. “Thank you, Pietro. I wish I could do something to alter your own fate. A word with Friar Savonarola, perhaps?”

Pietro chuckled. “Do not mistake a piece of paper with your name and his signature for real influence. To associate yourself in his eyes with one such as me even in the name of mercy would only be detrimental to your own self. Savonarola has no mercy in his soul.”

He was right of course. Diana felt helpless, a perpetually familiar sensation. “Very well. I’ll wish you a miracle then.”

“They do occasionally happen,” he smiled.

“Best wishes, Pietro.” She turned slowly away from him, feeling there was more she could say to him but no words came. When finally she emerged back into the light she realized she had held her breath, not against the foul odors of the jail, but against the stench of hopelessness and of death.

Chapter Nineteen

Foretold

Finding and tracking the youth Rogelio Bercuoli proved an easy enough task. The young man lived alone above his cobbler’s shop, which, as Pietro had indicated, enjoyed a fine reputation despite the social limitations of the proprietor. From what Diana could observe in several days of watching him, Rogelio lived a solitary existence, had few friends, rarely smiled. He seemed little more than an accidental interruption in the normal flow of entropy with his living cells merely waiting for their eventual release back to the natural chaos of things. He worked hard during the day and at night, though he refused to become a shut in, his nightly outings were solitary and he dined alone in a regular circuit of fine establishments in the city. Diana felt sorry for him. Such a bleak and lonely existence, his seemed. What confidants he did have appeared to be cut from much the same cloth as himself and Pietro, the undesirables of Firenze.

For their expeditions to track him, Diana hired a carriage at her father’s considerable expense. Hardly the least conspicuous method of surveillance but Diana could not stomach lingering on street corners for endless hours in the cold. At least in the carriage, Diana and her compatriots could share warmth. Diana decided it had been a wise decision. Several days of scrutiny led them no closer to the Council. At least Rogelio appeared to take no particular notice of them. They began watching him from the time he closed his shop each day until after midnight when he appeared most likely to have retired for the night. Diana reasoned he wouldn’t be able to leave his shop during the day, and it would be difficult to coordinate meetings later at night when few people would be sure of the exact time. This plan left most of the day uncovered. Yet they were not professional gendarmes. It wouldn’t be safe to watch him alone, and they had to sleep.

By the third night, they began to wonder if this effort wasted their time.

“Are we sure we can even trust your friend Pietro?” Siobhan whined, visibly becoming increasingly uncomfortable cooped up in the carriage hour after hour, night after night. “Maybe he’s still working for the Council and leading us off on a wild chase.”

“If so, they would have ambushed us in the carriage by now if they’re smart. It’s what I would do.” Diana looked up to see two pairs of eyes watching her in the dark. “What?”

“Those who live by the sword, die by the sword, Diana,” Francesca chided.

“Lots of people who don’t live by the sword still die by the sword. At least having a sword gives you a fighting chance,” Diana replied.

Francesca actually groaned, causing Diana to give her a scowl.

“Maybe the Council figured out Rogelio is a weak link, recruited by Pietro, and didn’t invite him to any more of their meetings,” Francesca added.

Diana kept silent, but inwardly admitted it could be possible. What a waste of time this would be. “Even if it’s true, we’ve got no other alternatives. No other information.”

“It’s fine, Diana. I’ll be out here with you as long as you need,” Francesca assured her.

“Yeah, me too,” Siobhan added with a downward inflection. “I’d just rather be doing something active, like strangling one of them.” She shifted in her seat. She wore the same rapier as during the fight in the church, and now added No-Nose’s former pistol to her arsenal. From her constant fidgeting, the weapons made it hard for her to get comfortable.

“Maybe their plan is to just let us freeze to death out here in the cold,” Diana groused.

“It’s not so bad,” Francesca offered with a shrug.

“You’ve been living in a cave carved into the side of a convent the last few years,” Siobhan observed. “This must be luxury for you by contrast.”

Francesca gave her a cool glare. Diana felt a surge of pride for Francesca. Slowly the girl seemed to be heating up a bit, not just recovering physically, but throwing off the freeze in her development set in during years spent in near isolation as the anchoress. Seeing a little spunk in the woman seemed right. Then again, it was a matter of perspective perhaps, and Diana couldn’t be sure that her perspective on things made much sense at all.

“Our fellow is leaving,” Siobhan announced. Indeed Rogelio closed the door to his store and apartments, dressed in a heavy robe, arms kept close to his side. He didn’t look around as he set out and, as best they could tell, took no notice of them. He kept his eyes down on the street, and looked no one in the eye as he passed them.

“Another night of dinner alone?” Francesca wondered.

Diana tapped on the roof of their cab, but their driver already knew the routine. Giving Rogelio a little space so their trailing him would be less prominent, they set out. One little horse drew the carriage so a relatively slow pace for them would not be unexpected. He ate at a different establishment each night, or attended the theater or opera, always alone. True to form this night he dined in a little hole in the wall while they waited in the carriage, unappeased hunger creeping upon them.

There he remained for an hour or so. Rather than return home, he set out toward the north, to sections of the city in recent disrepair. As before he kept his head down, walking at a crisp pace.

“He’s not heading home,” Francesca observed.

Diana felt a quickening of her pulse. “We know he doesn’t have friends or family to visit. Maybe this is finally going to lead to something.”

Rogelio brought them into a part of the city once amongst the most illustrious but which had been scoured and particularly oppressed under the occupation of the French armies a few years prior. Too far away from the city center to benefit from the essential lifeblood of enterprise, these frivolous mansions remained ghostly shells, their former owners dead, occupying apartments closer to the city center, or fled to safer parts of Italy, if such places existed. The hulks that stood dark and empty were a sad reminder of a happier time in the city when the cruel but steady hand of the Medici held sway. Now they were like tombs.

Only one of them glowed with an internal light that flickered as if from candles or lanterns. Rogelio clearly intended that house as his destination. They had to follow from a greater distance now, for the traffic here was much lighter than in the city center. Yet unmistakably he approached the house and disappeared into the shadows surrounding it.

With him inside, they brought the carriage closer. Like the others here, this house once would have been beautiful. Now the grounds were overgrown, the building itself beginning to groan under the oppressive weight of nature trying to reclaim its bounty. The signs of life from within flickered obscenely, like positioning a corpse to appear alive. Diana watched the house for a moment, and took in a deep breath. When she looked down at her hand, she found it shaking.

“Well, this is it then,” Siobhan observed. “What’s the plan?”

Diana looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you might come up with one.”

“This is your mission. Besides your plan at the church worked well enough.”

“Did it?” Diana asked with irritation holding up her bandaged hand with missing finger.

“Compared to five dead assassins, I’d say we came out rather well.”

“Easy for you to say, you ten-fingered whore.”

“Whore?” Siobhan repeated with raised tone and looked intent on saying more, but Francesca interrupted her.

“I think it looked like he just went through the front door,” Francesca observed, moving between the other women to look out the carriage window. “I bet the Council guard the door, but perhaps we could get in another way. Don’t you think?”

Diana nodded. “It’s got plenty of windows and we’ve climbed in through second story windows before.”

“No rope this time,” Siobhan said, her tone still clipped.

Diana rubbed her face. “We’ve got half the arsenal of the Firenze gendarmes with us and no one thought to bring rope?”

“Well, anything can look obvious in retrospect, can’t it?” Siobhan complained.

“We may not need rope,” Francesca observed. “The Council can’t possibly guard every window and still have a meeting inside. And there are plenty of overhangs and abutments. If we help each other we might still find a higher window we can reach.”

Diana considered it. “It might be wise for you to stay here in the carriage. You could fetch help if things seem to go awry.”

Francesca’s brows furrowed, the first time Diana had ever seen her irritated. “I haven’t been accompanying you in this carriage night after night just to be left behind when we finally get somewhere.”