The Bronze Crown

He threw the empty, floppy container to his younger companion, who grabbed it on the fly and lifted it over his open mouth, dropping the last drops of liquid. Then, disappointed, he hooked him behind the saddle. To Matteo, in order to put something invigorating into his body, the local wine was fine too and so he grabbed two wineskins of Rosso Conero from the cellars of the castle of Massignano. He realized that the red wine was good even if it was not fresh, but that much less could be ingested than beer before he started to turn his head. So, for the moment, he tried not to pass it on to his companion, who would drink an exaggerated amount without realizing it.

«I’m still thirsty! Pass me the wine, Matthew!», almost shouted Amilcare to his companion, heedless that they were approaching the walls of the castle of Rocca Priora, after noisily crossing the wooden bridge that allowed them to cross the river Esino.

«No way!» replied the other one. «We must remain lucid, at least until lunchtime, to complete the mission entrusted to us by the Duke. After weve skewered the court dandy and his bodyguard, we can celebrate. Try to be quiet, rather. We’re under the castle walls. You don’t want to throw a whole garrison of militia at yourself, do you?»

Amilcare made a gesture with his hand, as if he wanted to chase away an annoying insect.

«The Duke said that we don’t have to worry, neither here in Rocca Priora, nor when we arrive at the Tower of Montignano. He greased the hinges of the right doors and no one will care about us. Do you see soldiers watching us on the guard’s walkways?»

«No, but that doesn’t reassure me. They may be well hidden, but they are certainly watching us.»

«But they won’t stop us. And at the tower of Montignano we won’t find anyone. We’ll have a clear field, we’ll take positions, we’ll wait for the two of them and we’ll kill them without them even noticing. A simple and clean job. Then all we have to do is go back to Ancona and collect the fee and away... home. I can’t wait to get back to our dear mountains. And, as soon as I can, be sure I’ll knock on the door of the burgomaster of Vipiteno for a good supply of good beer. More than wine!» And so he emitted another resounding burp in the direction of a slit in the castle walls, behind which he had the impression that he saw shining eyes watching the scene. But no one from the fortress gave any sign of life, and the two of them got through it without any trouble. They advanced northwards along the seashore, with the horses struggling a bit to advance in the gravelly ground, until they reached the Mandracchio, a bulwark erected by Piccolomini to defend the hinterland from pirate raids. They entered the fortress and watered the horses, then they quenched their thirst at the source of fresh water themselves. The square, already early in the morning, was a comings and goings of people of all kinds, from farmers who with the cart loaded with fruit and vegetables went to sell their products at the market of Monte Marciano, to local lords who demanded tithes from the farmers to continue to cultivate the land they owned, to armigers who saddled the horses, after having carefully chosen them in the stables. A stableman approached Matthew and Amilcare and, after overcoming the disgust due to the smell they emanated, he turned to them in a kind manner.

"Do you need fresh mounts, sirs? For two denarii I’ll take your horses and give you two well rested. When you ride back from here, you may take your horses back.»

«I don’t know if we will come back» replied Matthew, making sure that it was not Amilcare who replied, the latter being much more rude than him. «The horses belong to the Duke of Montacuto, and we’d better bring them back to him. Our heads are at stake. Rather, we must reach the tower of Montignano. It shouldn’t be far now. Show us the best way.»

«What’s the reward for the information?» asked the boy to Matthew, making good and bad play.

Matthew poured some red wine from one of the full bottles of wine to the one that contained the beer, emptied just before, and offered it to the young stable boy.

«This should be enough. If it is not enough for you, I can always offer you to smell my partner’s breath. You only have to ask!»

The boy looked at Amilcare with a disgusting look and accepted the wineskin he was wearing.

Take the valley and go to the foot of the hill. Do not head towards the town of Monte Marciano, but keep to the right to reach the ridge of the hill. Always follow the path on the top of the hill and you will reach the tower long before the hour of desio. Good luck!»

«Good luck to you, boy. And thank you.» Matthew would have almost pulled a coin out of the bag the Duke had given them the night before, but Amilcare’s gaze made him desist from rewarding the groom any further.

Amilcare is right, said Matthew to himself. With his kindness, he could be a spy and put us on the tail of the thieves, once seen the bag with the coins. Better not to have to risk wasting time having to cut the throats of vulgar little thieves!

For Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere, expelling the Medici from Urbino and taking possession of his lands in Montefeltro was now a matter of principle, and the time had come. His father Giovanni Della Rovere, lord of Senigallia, had the architect and strategist Francesco di Giorgio Martini build a majestic fortress in Mondavio, practically halfway between Senigallia and Urbino. Francesco did not understand much about the strategic position of that sumptuous fortress, as it was entirely within their possessions, and not in a border position, where it would have been right to be. At that point they would never be attacked, and in fact the fortress had never been besieged since its construction had been completed, and almost thirty years had passed since that day. But the building was a majestic fortress and presented itself to the human eye as a frightening war machine, in which every shape and structure was designed to withstand the attacks launched both by traditional jet weapons, and by the most modern firearms, which were now becoming more and more widespread. The fortress itself was equipped with the deadliest known war machines: catapults, bombards and other deadly devils. In the armoury there were also so many rifles, pistols and arquebuses that they could arm a garrison of about a thousand armigers. The depot where the gunpowder was stored was well insulated and protected, and the keepers had hung on the walls an image of St. Barbara, to avoid, thanks to its protection, the danger of accidental bursts.

Therefore the Duke had chosen to move here, leaving the Rocca Roveresca of Senigallia, because Mondavio represented the ideal place from which to leave again to the conquest of Urbino. And he had to do so before the Malatesta arrived from Rimini or, worse, from Pesaro. The late spring of the year of the Lord 1522 was the right time to move his garrisons. Pope Leo X had died and had been replaced by Cardinal Adriano Florentz of Utrecht, who had taken the name of Adriano VI. He was a puppet, whose strings were pulled by the ecclesiastical oligarchy, and everyone was convinced that it would not last long before the Cardinal of Florence, Giulio De’ Medici, had planned something to regain the papal throne. So the moment had to be seized, anticipating the moves of both the Malatesta and the Medici. But he considered his lieutenant, Orazio Baglioni, incapable. And even if he wasn’t strategically and militarily incapable, he still considered him a Malatesta spy. Only a few months earlier, in December, Francesco was allied with the Malatesta, and together with him had driven the papal legions out of Fabriano and Camerino, restoring the power of the Dukes of Varano, and then heading with the militia united towards Perugia. They had stopped at the news of the death of Pope Leo X, returning to their territories of Senigallia and Pesaro respectively. Officially, Francesco Maria Della Rovere was still allied with the Malatesta, and proof of this was that lieutenant who continued to have him under his feet. It was necessary to eliminate him and take a valid substitute in his place, if he wanted to enter Urbino quickly, mocking his old ally. Only one name was on his mind, that of Andrea Franciolini. He had taken information about him, at the time when he had attacked the city of Jesi, some years before. The mercenaries in his pay had reduced him to dying, but he got away with it. He hadn’t really understood how he had escaped the death sentence hanging over his head, perhaps with the help of the Duke of Montacuto, at least that’s what people said. Franciolini was young, but he had a reputation for being good, both as a leader and a fighter. But at the moment it seemed that he had been detained, for some years now, at the court of Duke Berengario of Montacuto. Thanks to some spies he had at the castle of Massignano, two young servants of Senigallian origin, he had finally obtained the information he needed.

«The Montacuto has agreed with the Malatesta to send young Franciolini to his service. On the 22nd of May, Andrea Franciolini, with an escort man, will pass through the parts of Senigallia, to reach the Malatesta in Pesaro and join his army», the young cook Giuliano had told him, one day he had returned to Senigallia with the excuse of visiting his mother. «But he will never get there because it is a trap. In fact, the Duke of Montacuto has already made arrangements in secret with the new Pope to “sell” the Marca Anconitana to the Papal States for a few thousand gold florins. And so now Franciolini is an inconvenient character. He’ll have him killed by two assassins at the Tower of Montignano. It doesn’t matter at this point if the one who has so far considered his right-hand man, Gesualdo, known as The Mancino, will also be involved. The Duke of Montacuto needs money, a lot of money, he is indebted to the bone to build a huge and useless fortification to defend the port of Ancona. And he can no longer justify his expenses to the Council of Elders. So...»

«I get it», said Della Rovere, slipping some silver coins into the boy’s hands. «So he decided to sell the city, fortress, port and territories to the highest bidder, eliminating the inconvenient characters. I believe that any day now they will find all the members of the Council of Elders of the city of Ancona dead. Who knows, perhaps an epidemic, as sudden as it is providential!»

The same evening, Duke Francesco Maria Della Rovere returned to Mondavio. The next morning, the servants of Orazio Baglioni found the lieutenant lying on his bed with his eyes barred and the foam coming out of his lips. On the cabinet beside the bed was found a glass still containing residues of poisoned liquid.

«He killed himself», the Duke said as soon as he was told the news. «He confided to me a few days ago that he was suffering from love pains. He was in love, but the bridesmaid who was the object of his desires had twice refused him. Pity, he was a good soldier. Now I’ll have to find a worthy replacement.»

The spring day was already heralding the arrival of a hot summer, and Francesco Maria wore a light yellow doublet and comfortable stockings. He was thirty-two years old at the time, but he proved to be much older. He was a man not very tall, but robust, his physique tempered by the countless battles, always fought on the field. Even as a warlord, he had never backed down in front of the towel. And the enemies he had killed were no longer even counted. The long dark beard, the ruffled hair and the squinting of the Montefeltro family, inherited from his mother’s side, made him a treacherous man, who was fearful of anyone who came before him. It was uncommon for him to wear light clothes like that day. Often, even in his apartments, he wore studded jackets and reinforced stockings. And he never abandoned his sword, always placed in its sheath on his right side. For political reasons, he had married very young, only fifteen years old, to the beautiful Eleonora Gonzaga, with whom he had had a son, Guidobaldo, who was now eight years old. Wife and son were far from him and his battlefields, and enjoyed the luxury and comfort of the court of Mantua. But when Urbino was under his power again, he would see to it that Eleonora and Guidobaldo joined him at the Ducal Palace of Urbino, which was no less beautiful than the Gonzaga castle. And the fact of having Eleonora again beside him, would have allowed him to start thinking about some other children. Of course, his descendants were assured, but a gentleman who respects himself must have a host of children, to be shown in public and to be directed, at the appropriate time, to hold important positions of power, worthy of the name they would bear.

Thinking of his faraway wife had tickled his desires and instincts from too much repressed, and he already felt his own sex rising. But how could he satisfy in that place instincts that emerged in all their power?

He called a trusted armiger, the one who in the absence of the lieutenant commanded his garrisons stationed in Mondavio, Captain of Arms Lorenzo Ubaldi.

«Now that the trusted Baglioni is gone, I’d like to review the fortress to see what strength we have. Guide me, now, through the meanders and ramparts of the castle.»

But the Duke’s intent was to be led into the dungeons, where he knew young women were also imprisoned. Therefore he was interested, but superficially, in the St. Barbara’s, the soldiers’ quarters, the arms yard and the guard walkways. Instead, he dwelt on a small study, which had belonged to his father, in the main body of the castle, where a solid wood desk dominated in the centre and three walls out of four were occupied by shelves full of books. Although it did not seem so, the Duke was still passionate about culture and literature, as well as art and architecture, and therefore decided in his heart that he would spend a good deal of time in that room. While he thought he could make it his personal study, another blaze from his lower abdomen reminded him of the urgency he had. He nodded his head to the soldier who was accompanying him and, still under his guidance, walked down the stairs, went out into the gun yard, passed by a modern gunpowder, stroking the cold metal barrel with his hand, then pointed to a vaulted opening closed by a mighty iron gate.

«What's there?» he asked, pretending not to know.

«The prisons, Excellency!»

«I want to visit the prisoners. Do you have the keys to the locks?»

«Yes, but I advise against it, Your Excellency. It’s not a pretty sight. Most of them are condemned to death and...»

«I’ll decide what’s good and what’s bad for me!» he turned to his soldier, looking at him sideways, with a cross-eyed eye that he didn’t know which direction he was facing. «Open!»

When he crossed the gate, he was met by the prison guard, a man with a hunched back, soaked teeth and pestilential breath. Attached to his waist, the bunch of keys used to open the cells. The two men accompanied Francesco Maria along a dark corridor, with a dirt floor, which went downhill to the basement of the fortress. Having reached a cavern illuminated by some torches, where the smell of excrement was unbearable, the Duke realized that the cells occupied by the prisoners were all on the same side, so that they could not see each other and could in no way communicate with each other.

«What have they done?» he asked.

The jailer approached the first cell and spat in the direction of the man in it.

«He is a murderer. In the worst category. He killed his wife and wounded his daughter to death. He’ll end up hanging by a rope! I can’t wait to see him dangle.»

The prisoner, at first, looked down, then, in a sudden fury, began to scream.

«I didn’t do it! How can I tell you?»

They moved on and, in short, the man shut up. In another cell there was a young girl, a girl who must have been about 14 years old. She had her arms chained to the wall and she was squatting on the floor. A filthy dress, which once must have been white, could not properly cover her breasts, which, though immature, overflowed from her untied neckline. Even her legs were completely uncovered. Dirty with dirt and mud. The jailer winked at the Duke.

«She is a witch. She was caught in the woods picking herbs. We should hang her, or burn her at the stake, but we still wait for some priest from the Holy Inquisition to come here and give her a fair trial. We’ve had to chain her up, because we’re afraid that, thanks to some magic, she might escape by taking flight. But she’s good, and she’s learned my lessons well. Would you like to try, Your Excellency?»

The henchman, caring nothing of his Lord’s lineage, elbowed the Duke, then tinkered with the padlocks and opened the bars of the cell. Then he freed the girl’s wrists too, slapped her with a loud slap and stared at her with a grim and threatening look.

«You know your duty! Do it well and you’ll be safe this time too. The inquisitor will not come and your trial will be postponed.»

Without even realizing it, Francesco Maria, he found himself alone in the cell with the young witch. Not that it pleased him too much, he felt disgusted to want to take advantage of such a young and defenceless girl. What if someone found out and told his wife Eleonora? But when he heard her stockings slipping off and noticed that the little witch had delicate skin and two lips that knew how to kiss his most sensitive points, he understood that her jailer had instructed her more than well. He allowed himself guided by the young woman, who after kissing him and stimulating him for a long time, brought his turgid sex inside her, until he reached the coveted intercourse. Francesco Maria enjoyed, as he had not enjoyed for so long, but he could not free his mind from a single thought: how to restore freedom to that poor girl?

«What’s your name?» he asked her, still gasping for breath, beginning to caress her neck, making her kneel before him and guiding her so that her mouth approached his whitish liquid dripping sex.

«Ubalda», replied the girl, beginning to lick his moods, and then welcoming the Duke’s member, who had regained strength and turgidity, between her lips.

Francesco Maria let her do it for a long time, until he reached a second moment of pleasure. At that point he squeezed his hands around the witch’s neck. He heard her make a brief groan, then her young body, deprived of the possibility of taking on air, sagged, slowly collapsing on the ground floor. He had restored her freedom. Forever and ever.