"Grantville Gazette.Volume XVII" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

II

Florence, June 1635

The tiny chamber in the Tuscan Grand Duke's palace was checked regularly, to make sure that there were no spy holes and no unexpected places for unwanted ears to listen in. A rose carved in relief in the wood paneling opposite the secret door was a not so subtle reminder that everything said in this room was secret, not to be spoken of- sub rosa. Others used the chamber as well, for discreet discussions and meetings. Right now Grand Duke Ferdinand II's minister of state and Lord Bailiff, Andrea Cioli, and the Grand Duke's eighteen year-old brother, Leopoldo, sat across a chessboard from each other.

"It didn't take long for Borja's Folly to land on our doorstep," Cioli grumbled dourly. "Don de la Mer's voice is almost as irritating as his constant demands. I could happily drown him in the very wine he sells."

"My brother still dithers?" asked Leopoldo.

"He sees himself in the hollow of Philip's mailed fist on the one hand and as the champion of Tuscany on the other. Don de la Mer offers no hard proof that Cassiano dal Pozzo and his would-be rescuers are here. I believe Ferdinand believes dal Pozzo is in Florence, and he can neither betray dal Pozzo nor refuse the Spanish demands outright."

Leopoldo made his move. "I wish to remain in ignorance of this matter. If you're going to try to ensnare me in a plot against my own brother I'd as soon go back to my books."

"I am not seeking to replace your brother or even undermine his rule. Quite the opposite, as it happens. History will not remember His Grace Ferdinand II as a clever man, but he is a fairly good one. If anything, Leopoldo, I am hoping to get him out of a difficult position." Cioli made his move.

The scholar-prince sighed, surveying the board. "I cannot fault your logic, Lord Bailiff. Would that Ferdinand would be bold and choose the Cardinal-Infante's course. With our brother Matteo to lead our forces, I even believe he could pull it off."

"One step at a time, Leopoldo. Let us focus on the problem at hand, that of smuggling Cassiano dal Pozzo, the lefferto Belzoni, Giulio Gentileschi and Gentileschi's woman safely to the USE through very hostile territory. All without your brother officially knowing, so he may in good conscience plead ignorance in the face of the howling Ambassador de la Mer."

"If they are here, Andrea."

"As you say, Leopoldo. If they are here."

"You are forgetting an important detail," said Leopoldo as he mated Cioli's king. "My other brother. Giancarlo."

Cioli grunted sourly, and not because he'd lost the game. Giancarlo de' Medici was twenty-four, with the sex drive of a bull elephant in rut and less restraint. He was being groomed for a career in the church.

The cough from the room's third occupant seemed very loud. Leopoldo had forgotten the man's presence entirely. He was a priest approaching middle age, even if his youthful looks belied the fact. Officially the man was secretary to the Grand Duke's confessor. Unofficially, Father Giuseppe had a nose for secrets and gossip, and a willingness to pass on information to the Grand Duke or those working on his behalf. A very useful man to have around.

"If His Grace the prince and the Lord Bailiff will forgive my interruption, it pays to remember that Giancarlo is ruled by his genitals. Especially in this case."

"He seeks to tumble Esperanza de la Mer?" asked Cioli.

"Exactly so. Giancarlo believes he knows how to get His Grace the grand duke to give in, and hopes by advancing the Spanish cause to advance into Dona de la Mer's bed. However, I believe I can arrange for a suitable distraction. Meanwhile, I would draw both of your attentions to a piece of correspondence that crossed my desk by a regrettable accident. A letter from an artist His Grace's blessed father held in some esteem." It was plain even to Leopoldo that it was no accident Father Giuseppe had seen this particular letter. Naive Leopoldo might be, mostly by his own choice, but he was still a Medici. And he was curious.

"Which artist would this be, Father Giuseppe?" He asked.

"Artemisia Gentileschi, my lord. She writes of the betrothal of her elder daughter to a young up-time man. One proficient in the arts of what the up-timers call 'television.' I seem to recall that His Grace expressed a wish for a demonstration of this strange art to young Signore Bartolli during his trade mission last year. Perhaps it is time for that demonstration to take place."

Cioli's frown slowly gave way to a smile. He nodded slowly. "Yes, Father Giuseppe. An outstanding idea. I will propose it to Ferdinand right away."

"No need," said Leopoldo. "I will have the Accademia del Cimento sponsor a series of lectures by Signore McDougal." Leopoldo also had a burning desire to see this strange device and the art it displayed. When Ferdinand established the Accademia del Cimento last summer-some twenty years ahead of schedule by the up-timers' history-the Grand Duke had asked Leopoldo to assume a leading role, along with Leopoldo's mentor Galileo. In the other time line, Leopoldo had also been a leader of Accademia del Cimento. Even at the tender age of eighteen Cosimo II's youngest son-who was never without a book to read in a spare moment-was the obvious person to be the ruling family's choice to lead the new academy and help Tuscan scholars break free of the stifling preconceptions of the Aristotelian method.

"And while he's here, he can see to family business as well. We'll make a politician out of you yet, Leopoldo," said Cioli. "I'll send a courier to Venice to deliver a radio message."

"Perhaps the Accademia del Desegno would like to be involved," suggested Father Giuseppe. "Artemisia Gentileschi is the Academy of Design's only woman member and they are sure to be curious about her new son-in-law."

"Yes," said Cioli. "Very good. And Father Giuseppe… if you should hear of gossip involving unusual goings-on at Casa Buonarotti, feel free to apprise me of them. An important citizen such as Signore Michaelangelo should not be the subject of common rumor. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Your Grace. It will be as you say. In fact, I have it on good authority that a rider left Casa Buonarotti in a great hurry. Heading for Venice. A popular place, it seems, from which to send messages, though I'm sure it's but the basest of whispers."