Disclaimer: I do not own the Tudors.
Chapter Eighty-Five: The Duke of Florence.
22nd of July 1535 - Florence, Duchy of Florence
Moving through the dark alleys of Florence, Lorenzino kept his head down as he crept through the streets trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. There was not much time and the last thing he needed was for anyone to catch him, his actions earlier tonight had been for the good of the people but there were still those loyal to Alessandro here.
While the other man's death might not have been discovered yet, it was only a matter of time before people questioned his whereabouts especially given the fact that Cosimo had opened the gates. He had seen soldiers when he had left his apartment, dodging them at the last second rather than risk them capturing him and imprisoning him before he had a chance to speak with Ippolito.
His debts would be paid off and a high position at court had been promised, something that would likely allow him a more comfortable life and perhaps a strong chance of marrying well. Ducking into the alcove ahead of him, Lorenzino squeezed himself inside as he heard voices up ahead; he held his breath as footsteps approached and two of Alessandro's guards passed him.
The two of them barely noticed him, dressed in black in the dark corner as they patrolled the city; carrying on as normal completely unaware of the army marching through the gates of the city. Only once they had gone did Lorenzino move from his spot, he looked in the direction that they had disappeared before carrying on to the place where he was meant to meet Cosimo.
They had both agreed that it was best for them to disappear from the fight, hiding away until the moment that Ippolito sent for them and then they would both ride in with him for his victory over the city. It didn't take long for him to reach the small, abandoned shack that they had agreed to meet in, it wasn't much to look at and Lorenzino very much doubted anyone would suspect them of being here.
Ducking into the shack, Lorenzino poured himself some ale trying to shake the imagines that flashed behind his eyes of what he had done this evening. He did not have to wait long before Cosimo made an appearance, a lump forming in his throat as he took in the sight of his cousin as he made to pour him a drink. There was silence for a moment between the two men, neither of them daring to speak for a moment as the city bells started to toll in warning that the city was under attack.
"Is that the dagger that killed him?" Cosimo asked, his eyes locking on the dagger that was attached to Lorenzino's belt and he felt a small wave of emotion at the thought of what had happened. Never had he considered that this would be the path that he would take in life, he had never thought he would act against Alessandro and yet he had helped arrange the man's murder.
"Yes," Lorenzino whispered, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the shaking of his hands and the horrible look of betrayal on Alessandro's face before his throat had been slit by the very dagger in his possession now. The last hour had seemed like a blear and there were moments that Lorenzino had truly considered backing out of the deal that he had made.
However, Lorenzino knew that there would never be peace in Florence if Alessandro was allowed to live; if he did not kill him then someone else would and perhaps God could forgive him for what he had done.
"May I?" Cosimo asked holding out his gloved hand, a look on his face that Lorenzino couldn't read; a mask in place that should have unsettled Lorenzino more than it did. Slowly reaching for the dagger, Lorenzino carefully took it from his belt and handed it over to Cosimo; he turned his back to grab more ale while Cosimo turned the dagger over in gloved hands for a moment.
Without a moment's hesitation, Cosimo reached forward and grabbed the back of Lorenzino's head; slitting his throat down to the bone and allowing him to fall to the floor gargling blood as he died. Placing the bloody dagger back into Lorenzino's hand, Cosimo stared down at his cousin knowing that if he was to secure his own future that he couldn't allow anyone to mess it up.
He turned away from Lorenzino's now dead body and exited the abandoned shack, he would be sure to send his men to find it later.
Moving through the streets with a sword in his hands, Thomas Wyatt did his best to dodge out of the way of the oncoming soldiers that were trying to hold the city. His hands trembled as he moved, his eyes sweeping the area around him as he ducked and weaved through the streets as the army pushed further into the city.
The opposing forces seemed to be dropping in numbers and there were no signs that the people of Florence were willing to fight alongside those trying to protect the city. The streets almost seemed deserted and Wyatt was surprised how little resistance remained against the invading forces that were slowly taking over the city. An enemy soldier lunged at Wyatt causing their swords to clash, his feet slipping in the mud of the street and Wyatt shoved the man with all his force causing him to stumble and fall.
He was quick in ending the man's life before he continued to march forward, his eyes wild as he took in the poor state of some of the buildings around him. They had heard whispers of how bad it had gotten for the common folk in Florence during the siege, the parties that the former Duke had thrown were no secret to them especially when they had heard of the riots against him.
"The Duke has abandoned us! Retreat!" came the call from one of the soldiers, his words sending fear and betrayal through the soldiers that had been defending Florence. Without so much of a second thought many of Alessandro's men throw down their weapons and started to flee, they all knew that if he had left them then the fight was truly over. Breathing heavily as he looked around him, Wyatt could only watch the opposing force flee as they realised that the war had already been lost; there was no point in fighting a losing battle when their own leader would not.
"Retreat!" cried another soldier, the men around him turning on their heels while others surrendered to the soldiers that had taken the city. Wyatt stared in exhaustion at the sight before him, his sword lowered and his shoulders slumped; if only he had taken the time to look behind him as an opposing soldier slammed his weapon into the back of Wyatt's head.
Collapsing to the floor, Wyatt could only stare at the man's feet as he fled past him as the world around him grew ever so dark.
23rd of July 1535 - Florence, the Duchy of Florence
The next thing that Wyatt was aware of was waking up the next morning in his tent outside of the city walls; his head pounded and part of his vision was obscured by a bandage covering his left eye. Wincing as he moved to sit up slightly to learn on his pillows, Wyatt pressed a hand to the bandage at the back of his head; a grimace appearing on his face at the wet feeling that he felt before he pulled his hand away and looked down at it. The blood that stared back at him was a sharp reminder of how lucky he was to be alive right now, he leant back on his pillows wondering how he had been so stupid to lower his guard like that.
"It's good to see you awake," George Boleyn greeted stepping into the tent, he looked tired and his clothes ruffled as he moved to take a seat next to the bed. It was not what he had been expecting to do this morning, there was many preparations being made for the victory march into the city.
"The doctor says that you should recover well, they do not believe you to be in any serious danger but you must rest," George informed him gently, his eyes moving to the blood that had seeped through the bandage since it had been placed on the wound on his head. It would likely scar and the doctor had done his best to make sure that it wouldn't look to terrible when it healed over.
Wyatt grunted in response, he had no desire to speak with George especially after how their last conversation had gone. He was not going to change his mind and he would not be censured by the Boleyns just because they disagreed with his writing.
"Have you considered what we spoke on?" George asked tentatively, he did not wish to upset Wyatt while he was recovering but he had to do something and this was the best time to catch him when he could not walk away from him. The last thing that George wanted was to seem like pushy, the last couple of months had been far from easy on any of them but he had to do what he could for his family and Wyatt was a proven threat.
"I shall not be swayed, I shall write as I please. Now leave me to recover," Wyatt snapped furious that George would come to him like this when he had been injured and he wanted nothing more than to be left in peace. He moved to turn away from the other side of his tent with his back to George, he had nothing more to say to the other man and he wished to be alone rather than argue with him.
George stared at Wyatt's back for a moment, he truly wished that there was another way and Wyatt would understand that his words were dangerous; he seemed to care for no one's safety not even his own.
"So be it," George stated getting to his feet, he stared down at Wyatt for a single moment before he reached for the pillow that had been seated on the chair where he had been sat. With a moment's hesitation and a silent prayer for God to forgive him for what he was about to do, George forced the pillow over his head; he used all of his weight to hold the weakened Wyatt down. His eyes closing as he tried to the block out the muffled cries for help, his full weight placed upon the wiggling body and he stayed like that until slowly Wyatt's movements came to a stop.
George squeezed his eyes shut as he waited, holding his breath as he held the pillow over Wyatt's face for a few more moments before he slowly lifted it off. Staring down at the now empty eyes of Thomas Wyatt, George reached a shaking hand to slowly close his eyes and prayed that this would be enough. As far as anyone else was concerned, Wyatt had died of his injuries in his sleep; he moved to arrange Wyatt into a less conspicuous position and threw the pillow back onto the chair.
It was only then that George left the tent, he hesitated at the flaps of the tent for a moment; his hands still shaken from what he had just done before he stepped into the cool morning air. The war camp was busy packing up to move into Florence and from where he was standing, George could see Ippolito and Mary preparing for the ride into the city; the two of them sharing a tender moment before he helped her mount her horse. Approaching his own horse, George came to a stop beside his royal brother-in-law who was also preparing to ride into the city behind the new Duke and Duchess of Florence.
"Is it done?" King Henry asked calmly, his eyes focused not on George as he spoke insted on Mary who reminded him so very much of her mother. Her growing baby bump on display and she had refused many orders from her husband to remain behind or return to Milan while they were under siege; she had insisted on being here for this very moment.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Wyatt shall not be a problem anymore," George informed him with little emotion in his voice, he did not think he would ever be the same for what he had just done. It would never be acknowledge that Henry had pushed him to deal with Wyatt nor had given him the order to murder the man if he could not be dissuade from writing about Anne.
"Good," Henry replied, the last thing that he ever wanted was for his reign to be followed by the mess that had plagued the end of his grandfather's reign. His mother and father had both spoken about the fighting that had occurred when Richard III had seized the throne and done away with his uncles, the Princes in the Tower.
Leading the victorious forces into Florence, Ippolito could not help but feel proud that he was returning to the city that he had been forced from in such away. He was home and he would return Florence to his former glory that it had been robbed off when the Medici had first been displaced. Mary rode at his side, her eyes taking in the city that she would now call her home; she would do her best to be the Duchess that the city deserved after years under Alessandro's cruel reign.
"God bless you, Your Graces," the people called as they rode past, their eyes wide in wonder and happiness at the fact that Alessandro had been over thrown. The steady march walking through the streets of Florence towards the Medici Palace, people called out as they went and Ippolito was sure his reign would be welcomed. In the years since he had been forced by Clement to leave, Ippolito had heard tales about Alessandro's rule; the way he only cared for the rich and the poor suffered under his rule.
It was against everything that their family had stood for, everything that they had worked hard to build when they had risen up from their humble beginnings. Mary looked over the people that had lined the streets to see them, her heart went out to the people here and she vowed that she would right the wrongs that had been done to them.
As their new Duchess, Mary was determined to ensure that no one would ever have to suffer like they had done under Alessandro's reign. Finally, after what felt like an age, Ippolito saw a sight that he had never thought that he would see again; his heart pounded in his chest and he wished that Clarice was here with him in this moment.
He remembered the night that they had been forced in the middle of the night to flee, the family being yet again forced into exile but this time he and Clarice had been forced to do so without the protection of their parents. Mary stared up at the building that slowly made itself known, her eyes taking in the stone masonry of her husband's ancestral home. The palace had been designed by Michelozzo di Bartolomeo for Cosimo de' Medici, taking nearly forty years to build when the Medici had truly begun their climb to political power.
Ippolito slowly pulled his horse to a stop, his eyes staring up in awe that after eight years that he was able to come home properly. Dismounting his horse, Ippolito paused for a moment almost mesmerised at the sight that sat before him; it felt like a dream, one he did not want to wake up from. Mary watched her husband, her eyes taking in the look on his face and she could not imagine how he felt for this moment.
While in England at their estate, he had told her stories about his family and their tale of how they had gone from a minor banking family to a political power that had raised higher than any of their enemies would have liked. Mary had found the entire thing fascinating, she had wanted to be here when he saw his home again; she had wanted to be by his side knowing how hard this might be for him.
Ippolito finally tore his eyes away from the stone building and turned to his wife, he walked to her side to help her down from her horse and set her carefully on her feet. The smile on her face was enough for him and he linked her arm, the two of them moving towards the entrance of the building. The party behind them slowly starting to dismount their own horses and follow them into the Medici Palace; the entrance of the palace leading them into the main hallway of the Palace.
Ippolito slowly broke away from Mary, his eyes wandering over the once grand home that his great, great grandfather had built for them. It was nothing like he remembered, Alessandro had certainly redecorated when he had gotten his hands on the place; it was nothing like the home that it had once been to him. Anger filled Ippolito as he looked around the room that he was currently standing in, he would return the place to its former glory; the place looked very miss matched and it was clear that Alessandro had bought whatever he could get his hands on to show off his wealth.
Footsteps sounded from one of the adjoining rooms and Ippolito turned just in time to see Margaret of Austria storm across the foyer and slap him across the face before the guards that had been assigned to watch her could stop her. Margaret had tears in her eyes as she stared up at Ippolito, she was dreaded in mourning clothing and she looked so lost that Ippolito almost felt sorry for her. Turning away from the man that had ruined her life, Margaret looked at others taking in each of their face; the glare on her face falling away when she saw Cosimo amongst the invaders.
Margaret had been terrified when the news had come that the gates had been breached, she had hidden in her wardrobe waiting for Cosimo or someone to come rescue her. He had always been so kind to her and she was shocked to see that he had betrayed her husband like this; he had been so loyal to him even when Cosimo did not agree with everything that Alessandro did.
"Caterina. Why don't you take Margaret to her new chambers," Mary instructed one of her more trusted ladies, she eyed her cousin knowing that she would be dealt with when the time was right just as Christina was waiting to be ransomed back to the Emperor. Walking towards her husband, Mary took his hand and gave it a squeeze knowing that there was much to be done; the news that Alessandro had been murdered by Lorenzino would not stay secret for long.
Looking behind her, Mary sighed trying to prepare herself and knew that with several Kings as their guests; she was going to have her work cut out but she was not afraid of hard work especially now that they had Florence in their hands.
I recommend Bed of Deceit by BellalunaMcKenzie, For Even as Love Crowns You by wizardfantasy and Sanctuary by Cattyfan. Also check out My Lord Husband,The Enemy by Esme24, That Subtle Wreath by EvilFluffyBiteyThing and its sequel, A Progress in Kent.
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