The Vatican Jewel
Chapter 9 - The High Priestess
In tarots, the High Priestess' card indicates knowledge. The High Priestess is a spiritual teacher, kindness, generosity. The figure contains moral suggestions and it exerts a suggestive influence on thought. It reveals functions that confer prestige, it speaks of the priesthood, of metaphysics.
On the negative side, however, it indicates that negativities will become immorality.
«Countess Riario will advance from the south through the Valdarno Valley», Commander Quattrone explained, accompanying the Magnifico beyond the walls. «We'll place weapons on all sides, but the majority will meet his men here».
«We'll be outnumbered», Lorenzo objected, observing the defenses with disappointment.
«Well, they'll be outgunned», Leonardo intruded, quickly descending into the courtyard.
«With ten guns? Are you certain?», it was the skeptical response of the first citizen of Florence.
«We're casting more muskets», the artist tried to reassure him, with a bit of humility instead of his usually swaggering attitude.
He knew very well, as all the other soldiers around him did, that Rome was slowly preparing its attack through many small but clever subterfuges, and meeting on the battlefield was certainly not an excuse to have a chat. All the actions of the Holy City shouted war, it was only a matter of time.
«I promise you, you'll never have to fire them», da Vinci tried carefully.
That it was what he actually intended to say, he was the first one to have some doubts. Perhaps, rather than a reassurance for Lorenzo, he wanted it to be a reassurance for himself, a hope.
If he closed his eyes, he could still see many small fragments of what happened at the convent of Sant'Antonio, a few days before. Despite trying to repeat to himself that the blame for what happened was all due to poison and contagion, his conscience did not want to give him peace.
He had said horrible things to her, accused her of the most evil and ruthless deeds, and what was worse, of always acting without guilt.
Maybe in that precise situation, with the cold Vatican sword pointed at his throat and the poison circulating in his body, he hadn't noticed or paid enough attention to it. But since he was healed, he kept seeing her: the face deprived of her mask of apathy and indifference, the watery eyes and the tears that were about to fall off.
He believed he was the most brilliant mind in Europe, yet he hadn't been able to see something so obvious: there was so much more that he didn't know, far beyond that reputation as a cold and ruthless soldier.
Nonetheless, the Magnifico would have cut his tongue just to hear him try to defend her, which is why the artist wisely chose to shut up and to pretend to be condescending.
«Sometimes, when all your enemy knows is killing…», he began, silencing that As if it were true that was so pressing to leave his lips. «…a simple deception can suffice», he tried. The most veiled way possible to suggest another way of dealing.
The grin of superiority that Lorenzo shot at him, however, destroyed all his hope.
«Countess Riario is far is far more clever than you think, da Vinci», he hissed, as if he was talking to a naive child.
I know it very well, Leonardo would have liked to answer, but again he chose to bite his tongue.
«Your wit won't get us out of this one. Only your weapons will, and I promise you, they will fire», he silenced him definitively, before passing him and heading for his horse.
The artist should have agreed with him: defending Florence was the priority, at any cost, and, even more so, against an enemy like the Vatican.
But then why, at the thought of attacking and hurting Gemma, he felt something inside of him breaking?
With a horse ride so elegant that it could be called divine, Countess Riario was travelling through the green fields of the Tuscan countryside, approaching Florence with all the calm that the leadership of the Vatican army could afford.
Her army, right behind her, followed her with the same slowness, silent and loyal to duty. Most of the soldiers had smirked on their faces, to the idea of the easy victory that they would have won shortly thereafter.
As much as that evening at the banquet she had fun teasing Leonardo without making her name known, the countess had not lost sight of the target. Leaving the party at the palace, she had instructed some of her collaborators to follow the artist the next day, the day after that and the day after that again. Nobody was to lose sight of him and, much less, to return to her without useful information.
Luckily, Grunwald had found traces of an agreement between the engineer and the Magnifico to meet at dawn in a small valley far from Florence. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Gemma had armed herself with her escort and had gone to the meeting place, in a sheltered and hidden place but that still allowed her to keep an eye on the situation.
As if she had been blessed by fortune, she had witnessed nothing less than the test of Leonardo's weapons, and she hadn't overlooked the slightest detail. Also, keeping in mind the information escaped to Giuliano, at the convent, her advantage was considerable.
«We are approaching», one of the guards told her, just behind her.
More than giving her information, he had awakened her from her own thoughts, before they got out of her control.
«Be ready», the countess answered, raising her right hand to communicate the order to the rest of her collaborators.
How she managed to always be so elegant and graceful, even in such a simple movement, remained a mystery to everyone. And in particular for her most trusted collaborator, who had been able to witness such refinement much more often than anyone else in the army.
Not that the other guards had ever risked such an approach, since the last agent who had attempted to cross the bounds of what was consonant had ended up among the white voices of the Vatican choir.
Since then, anyone in there with a minimum of survival instincts wisely limited himself to private and very silent thoughts. In honor of her name, Gemma was nothing but an unattainable treasure. A splendid, precious and brilliant treasure, but unattainable.
For anyone.
«Countess?», Grunwald called her, slightly accelerating the horse's pace in order to reach her.
«Yes, captain?», she replied without turning to him, with her gaze fixed on the horizon.
«What's your plan?», he asked, cold and detached.
The fact that even on that occasion the countess had not bothered to turn her head was a source of irritation for him, but at the same time it allowed him a few more seconds to let his gaze linger on the features of her face, without taking the risk of her noticing it.
«To have him», Gemma replied abruptly, and she didn't even notice that she had tightened her horse's bridle more forcefully.
«You don't have a conscience, countess».
She didn't want to think about it again. She would have done or given anything to get some respite from those words that, for her, were like stabbed in her stomach.
«Those people died because you… you have poisoned them».
It was a good thing that he attributed such a reputation to her. It was all in favor of her cause. Sixtus had always taught her that a fighter has already won half the battle if his fame precedes him. But even knowing it, that bitterness in her mouth did not really want to disappear.
«Don't you feel even a bit of remorse?»
God, how wrong he was. He couldn't even begin to imagine it. But he would never find out.
«I was wrong».
Was he talking about her? Was he sincere? Was it just the effect of the poison still circulating, despite the treatments?
Those questions assailed her for days, and the last thing she could afford was to let herself be distracted by the enemy.
«We all have our demons», Gemma murmured thoughtfully, staring into space.
A few moments of silence followed, where her words remained in the air for a while longer.
«…I beg your pardon, countess?», Grunwald asked, after a few seconds of hesitation in surprise.
In response, the young woman tugged her bridle with a little more force, to direct her horse.
«Nobody is invincible, captain Grunwald », Gemma pointed out, finally turning to his direction. «Anyone has at least one weakness, and the first thing to do is to exploit it».
And in spite of himself, the man was only able to think that she had returned the same as always.
A deep breath, her hands clenched into fists, and Gemma regained control of herself. She even managed to put her mask of safety and arrogance back on, veined with that malice that always managed to conquer anyone who met her gaze.
When she reached the meeting point, Lorenzo and all his collaborators were already present. And among them, also Leonardo.
«Magnifico», the young woman murmured, with a smile of just courtesy. «Commander», she added, the tone of voice unchanged.
But at da Vinci, she lowered her voice further, and gave him a much more penetrating look.
«Artista», she said, in little more than a whisper.
And in spite of everything, the Florentine man felt that pain in the stomach again, the one that only she could provoke him. A bittersweet feeling, an irresistible temptation to say the least but towards which, unfortunately, he could not help but resist.
«War engineer, actually», Lorenzo intruded, trying to direct a look of that kind on him. And trying to distract everyone from the expression on the face of the artist, whom was close to fainting.
He hoped that recalling him with such a prestigious title would be enough to awaken him. As much as he understood that resisting a woman like her was an arduous undertaking, he counted on the fact that the security of Florence was more important.
Not getting answers other than silence, however, he attempted a less discreet approach, such as coughing vaguely to awaken him.
On the third attempt, however, Lorenzo's patience ran out.
«Da Vinci!», he exclaimed, and anyone would have perceived the tacit threat. Leonardo included who, because of the unexpected appeal, jumped; even his horse snorted, as if he could feel that nuisance.
«Is there any problem, artista?», the countess intruded, pretending to be perplexed.
In all honesty, though, she was savoring every second of that moment, of that demonstration of how much power she could have over him.
And after all, it was a reassurance: what happened during the alleged demonic possession had not affected what Leonardo felt for her. Not irreparably, at least.
«No problem at all», da Vinci muttered, straightening on his horse's back. If he had been honest, perhaps he would have admitted that the problem was the presence of all those people, besides the two of them, but it remained only his fantasy. «What about you, countess?», he then asked, to divert attention to her.
«Actually, yes», Gemma answered, without any trace of disturbance in her voice.
Certainly Leonardo would have expected a completely different answer, but by then he was learning not to be surprised so easily. Countess Riario was a constant surprise to him: the sooner he learned to live with it, the better it would be for his sanity.
Before giving him time to investigate, Gemma speeded up the process and continued the conversation alone.
«I was commissioned by the Holy Father in person to go to your city for a negotiation, but apparently…», and she deliberately left a few seconds of silence, filled only by her best expression of perplexity. «…the interlocutors I am having this conversation with are not particularly inclined to discuss an agreement».
He allowed herself a few more seconds, a moment to square from head to toe the recipients of her last sentence.
«Or better to say… they are not particularly careful», she specified, raising her eyebrows reproachfully.
And in spite of himself, the Magnifico also found himself sharing that same expression. Which was nothing short of a surprise: agreeing with one of the worst enemies of the city that he loved so much was certainly not an everyday thing.
But it was enough for him to take another look at Leonardo, and at his puppy dog face, to understand that it would have been impossible to blame Gemma Riario.
«We listen to you very carefully, countess», Lorenzo tried again, the burning pride could be easily perceived in every word.
However, the countess did not seem reassured enough to continue the conversation.
«Artista?», she called him again, in the same tone as many other previous meetings, and getting almost the same reaction in response.
If Leonardo could have chosen to ignore his common sense and to respond following only his instinct, he wouldn't hesitate to tell her that it was hanging from her lips, but luckily his rational side got the better of him.
«I listen to you», he replied, settling better on horseback.
Certainly the slight smile of victory that was painted on Gemma's lips, hearing that answer, did not help to keep his impulsiveness at bay.
«Very well», the young woman murmured.
That that last look to Leonardo, that close to exceeding the limits of what was appropriate, was aimed at emphasizing her authority or at giving herself a few more seconds of eye contact, she could not have said it herself.
«In an effort to avoid further bloodshed, His Eminence has extended a list of demands. First: Florence will formally embrace into its bosom Francesco Salviati as Archbishop of Pisa. Second, the Medici Bank will forgive the Holy See of all debts. And third, you will release certain artisans from their contractual obligations so that they might employ their gifts in service of the greater glory of His Holiness' new chapel.».
She could have kept talking for hours, and in all probability no one would have been able to divert attention from her words, from her voice, from her face. Not even the Swiss guards of his own army.
«And in which artist is His Holiness interested?», asked the Magnifico, more to continue the negotiation than for real interest: he already knew the answer.
However, the Countess Riario maintained that farce, and she looked in a pocket of her coat for a small sheet of paper carefully folded. She caressed it slowly with her fingers wrapped in black leather, smoothing it in her hands, and she pretended to read those names for the first time.
«One… Pietro Perugino», she began, carelessly. «One… Sandro Botticelli» and the Oh, Jesus muttered by Leonardo, like a five-year-old would have done, it wasn't much of a surprise. «Oh!», then exclaimed the young woman, as if she was really surprised. «Leonardo da Vinci».
A stranger might even have judged innocent the smile the countess was giving to her opponents, but even the Magnifico recognized the deception easily.
«How do you find the offer, artista?», Gemma finally asked, raising the eyebrows and treading especially on that nickname.
«Unattainable, countess».
«Oh», the young woman murmured, turning serious. «It is not the answer I wanted», she added, and perhaps for the first time in all that conversation a veil of threat could be heard in her voice.
«However, I fear it will be the only one you have», Leonardo went on.
If Zoroaster had been present, he would surely have had something to say about it.
«What a real pity», she replied, with a slight sigh. «This offer is very…», and she hesitated a few seconds, as if she was looking for the most suitable word. «…tempting».
Attracted by the spark of malice that was coloring the conversation, Leonardo abandoned his common sense for a moment and he let the next words come out of his mouth without filters.
«I fear it would be an unshared pleasure», he murmured, shrugging.
«Who can tell it, artista», the Countess replied, in a sigh of almost displeasure.
In that exchange of provocations and ambiguities, nobody seemed to notice the expression on the Magnifico's face, one step away from disgust. It was he himself who brought attention back to more important matters, with a not so discreet cough.
«And if we don't capitulate?», Lorenzo asked, returning to the threats made shortly before by the countess.
How quickly Gemma was able to go from joking to seriousness was part of her charm.
«Uh… my forces will occupy Florence», she sentenced, resolutely.
«My guns… will cut your men to ribbons», Leonardo intruded, who seemed to have regained his typical arrogance.
«Your fabled pipe organ muskets?», the countess continued. «Well, yes, they will cut down some of them, but not all», and the tone in which he had said those last three words, those present understood that the worst was coming. «Thanks to Giuliano's bumbling, I was aware that you possessed ten guns. And given that I've observed them close at hand, I simply deduced their cyclic rate of fire».
Just hearing Giuliano's name appear in that conversation, Lorenzo felt the blood boil in his veins in anger.
«Good heavens, Giuliano…», he let out, through gritted teeth.
«Oh, don't waste too much time hating your brother», the countess replied, with some carelessness. «I would have been perfectly able to obtain the same information from the engineer», she added, glancing at the person concerned.
«I'm starting to think that your arrogance even manages to outdo mine», Leonardo commented, in a flash of swagger.
«I had evidence of how true my claims are».
And so quickly that brazenness had appeared, just as quickly it disappeared, swept away by Gemma's latest statement. That tiny hint of a smile on the artist's lips disappeared, and even Lorenzo noticed the silence that followed.
«Da Vinci running out of words. I am amazed», he muttered, in a low voice.
«I hope it's proof of my skills, Magnifico», the young woman answered, alluding to a small nod of reverence with the head, even if there was no trace of the humility that should have accompanied that gesture.
And Leonardo could say with great certainty that what the countess demonstrated was all fiction. Because he was not like the others, he didn't stop at first impressions, at the masks that she wanted the others to see.
In the wake of that awareness, he continued his defense.
«Let me object, countess. While you were studying me, I was studying you back», he said, with a half bold smile. «And I deduced a lot from our conversations», he added, lowering a little his voice.
The taste of satisfaction that he could taste was not unpleasant at all, finally seeing a small crack in Gemma's mask.
«And what have you deduced, artista?», she asked, with finally sincere interest and curiosity.
«If I reveal it to you, I will lose the advantage I have over you. And it does not seem the case to me, not now that you are getting ready to declare war in Florence».
«So, follow me to Rome», the countess proposed, resolutely. «We would avoid the attack on the city and continue our... conversation».
The way Gemma blinked her long, thick lashes was enough to make him understand that her real intent was to hit him in the stomach. And not only.
«Follow you to Rome? Where I would be considered as a heretic and get burned at the stake? Your offer is less and less attractive», the Florentine man retorted.
The thought of being burned alive seemed to him an excellent distraction to go back down to earth.
«The pope will have mercy on a poor confused artist», Gemma reassured him, with an almost sweet note in the tone of her voice. However, the expression on her face soon changed to perplexity. «Oh, wait…», she stopped them, gently lifting an index finger into the air to ensure the silence of those present. «Yours is one of the names on the list of artists requested by His Holiness».
Da Vinci began to understand where that speech would end up, and he did everything not to burst out laughing. He could try to defend himself as much as he wanted, yet Gemma always managed to turn the knife over to point it at him.
«You have no reason to fear the anger of the Holy Father», the countess concluded simply. «Have you not listened to the conditions I opened the negotiations with?», she asked, pretending to be doubtful. «Did anything distract you?»
«In fact…», Leonardo muttered, trying to take time. «…I was making calculations. To understand with how many men you will return to Rome, with your tail between your legs».
But the only reaction he got was a good laugh.
Gemma gently raised her right hand in the air and snapped her fingers. Behind her, one of the guards whistled and, within seconds, a tremendously large number of soldiers came out of the woods and began to approach.
«Let's pick up for a moment the information on your fabled pipe organ muskets», Gemma said, putting her hands together in front of her. «Between them, they're capable of launching thirty-three volleys, comprising three hundred thirty-three discharges. Now, let's assume that… two-thirds of them hit their mark. But what happens while your brave militiamen are reloading?», and she deliberately left a few seconds of silence, while her words remained in the air. «My remaining four hundred ride out. And, yes, we will use your precious Florentines… as target practice»
«You face a walled city, Riario. We can hold you off for six months at the least», the Magnifico defended himself.
But his voice was not as firm and sure as he would have liked.
At least he had managed to open his mouth and say something, unlike Leonardo. That reasoning had made clear the defects of his armory, and the prospect of a victory over Rome was less and less clear, as he imagined the scenario just described by Gemma.
Failure was becoming an increasingly real hypothesis, and for Leonardo it was a slash straight to the stomach.
«It takes but one person to open the gates from the inside. Do you… do you truly believe that in those months, the call of the Holy Father won't be honored by a single soul in Florence?»
In a gesture of grasping her horse's bridle, Countess Riario put an end to that conversation.
«You have twenty-four hours to ponder the Holy Father's offer. Enjoy your day».