Guardia: A Novel of Renaissance Italy Read Online Free PDF

he was wearing, it would have no doubt pushed the very limits of class and taste.”
    “Messere,” I said without hesitation, my tone grave, “I think you’d better come with us.”

3
    “My name is Bartolomeo Neri. As you already know, I am a goldsmith at the Ponte Vecchio. I’ve operated my workshop there for many years.”
    We travelled along the corso, following the river back to the church of the Ognissanti. Bartolomeo had closed up his shop and sent his workers home. Now we were en route to the church to verify if the body did indeed belong to his brother.
    My legs were weary so we took our time. There was no rush and I had many questions for Bartolomeo. Strained as he clearly was, the man answered our questions willfully.
    “Tell me about your brother. What kind of man is he?”
    “My brother is – or rather, was, if what you say is true – a very troubled man. I am afraid that God didn’t give him the same reason or virtù that he gave me or the rest of our noble family.” He sounded ashamed, but he did not hide his feelings.
    “You said you saw him last at the workshop a couple days ago. Did he work with you?”
    “Yes, that’s correct, though he was hardly a reliable worker. Sometimes he would leave the city for long periods of time in order to perform God knows what kind of errands. Whenever he was in town I would let him work at my bottega as a laborer, mostly keeping the fires going and ensuring our supplies were stocked, for a few scudi each day.”
    “Do you have any idea why he would leave the city? Relatives abroad, or business opportunities perhaps?”
    He laughed, a sound that came out coarse and throaty. I wondered how healthy he could be considering that he probably spent the large portion of each day hovering over a furnace in a smoky, sulfurous workshop.
    “Business opportunities? No, sir. My brother Ugo had no such opportunities. Unless you mean finding opportunities to gamble away our family’s money.”
    Pietro and I exchanged a brief but victorious glance.
    “These trips that he would take, do you think the purpose was to get away from bad people that wanted to do him harm?” Pietro asked.
    Bartolomeo nodded. “I’ve long suspected something to that effect, but never directly asked him about it. I assumed that the less I knew of his dealings the better. I have a family, mind you.”
    “Tell me about your family.”
    “What do you want to know? I have a wife, Giulia, and two boys, Marco and Sandro. I love them dearly and I do everything that I can to keep that man and his damn vices away from them.” For the first time I noticed the stress in his voice when he referred to his brother. “Do you have a family, Mercurio?”
    “No sir.”
    He shrugged. “You’re still a young man, but you’ll understand one day. Family is everything. A man is nothing without family.”
    “Indeed,” I said. “Where are you from, Bartolomeo? Are you from Florence originally?”
    “No. My family is from the upper Arno valley. I left there when I was a young man though, to learn my trade.”
    “I see. Do you still have relations there?”
    “No, none at all. Ever since my parents died I have never gone back.” He hesitated. “We lost a lot of family from the plague.”
    “I understand.” Most families had been struck hard by the sickness. My own had suffered greatly, my father and a brother succumbing to its ravages. “Your brother, where does he stay when he’s in the city?”
    “Ugo stays with us. I’m not always happy with it, but he’s my brother. I figure that as long as he’s under my roof then I can at least have some influence over his deplorable behavior. Besides, I’d rather he stay at my home rather than under some bridge, sullying our family name in full view of everyone.” He sighed at the unexpected irony of his words. “And yet, that’s what he’s done anyway, isn’t it?”
    I studied his expression in the ensuing silence. I could see his mind coming to grips