Bernardino's Inheritance E-Book

Stefano Vignaroli

• Herausgeber: Tektime
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 522

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Year 2020: not even the Lock Down due to the COVID 19 pandemic will be able to stop the work of scholar Lucia Balleani and archaeologist Andrea Franciolini, once again committed to discovering mysterious arcana in the heart of the historic center of Jesi. An ancient underground pipeline and an enigmatic stone sphere will represent two puzzles that are difficult for the young couple of researchers to solve.
The discoveries of ancient documents and archaeological finds by Andrea and Lucia, will bring us back as usual, to follow the events of the Jesi’s characters of the sixteenth century, their ancestors. The printer Bernardino dictated his last will to a notary before his death, but this is of little interest to the heirs of the Marquis Franciolini and the Countess Baldeschi. The Marquis Alessandro Colocci, husband of Countess Laura Baldeschi, will turn out to be a grim and cowardly character in the service of Pope Paul III, but he will have to deal with the young scion of the Franciolini family, Francesco, very determined in trying to regain possession of the title of Captain of the People, assumed by the Marquis Colocci only by virtue of the fact that he married his older sister Laura.

Leseprobe

Stefano Vignaroli

Bernardino’s Inheritance

The printer – Fourth episode

NOVEL

To Giuseppe Luconi and Mario Pasquinelli,

notable fellow citizens who are

part of the history of Jesi

Stefano Vignaroli

Bernardino's Inheritance

The printer - Fourth episode

ISBN

Translation by Alessandra Cervetti

©2024 Stefano Vignaroli – Associazione Culturale Euteroe APS

All reproduction, distribution and translation rights reserved

The passages on the history of Jesi have been taken and freely adapted from texts by Giuseppe Luconi

Illustrations by Prof. Mario Pasquinelli, kindly granted by his rightful heirs

Website http://www.stedevigna.com

E-mail [email protected]

INDEX

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CAPITOLO 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CAPITOLO 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

BIBLIOGRAPHY

PREFACE

No three without four. Stefano Vignaroli gives us a new chapter in the saga ‘The Printer’, set in 16th-century Jesi. In doing so, he makes it three, so many stories flowing in parallel: There is that of Bernardino, the printer, grappling with the dictation of the will; there are those of Laura and Francesco and Anna and Elisabetta, divided by fate but united by palace intrigues, the former, and by the portents of magic, the latter; finally, there is that of the two newlyweds of today, the descendants of Lucia Balleani and Andrea Franciolini, the young people of the same name, grappling with the exploration of the Jesi underground passages and the ancient secrets hidden therein. But above all, there is the narrative skill of Vignaroli, who draws the reader into a world of strong passions, peopled by brave knights and light-hearted mercenaries, implacable inquisitors and defenseless witches, ruthless lords and poor people. According to an obsequious cliché of the most authentic chivalric genre, in the unfolding of the plot they all pursue their own ends, losing and finding themselves in the torture chambers of a public palace or wandering in the shadows of a rarefied forest. From creepy interrogations to scenes that wink at refined eroticism, from duels to palace plots, in a continuum of twists and turns, this time as well the author succeeds in his greatest magic, that of gluing you to the page. In the finale, between the clarification of some events and the mystery that continues to envelop others, a question arises that has the flavour of a wish: that the story does not end here.

Marco Torcoletti

INTRODUCTION

After the third episode of the series “The Printer”, Here I am presenting a new adventure. At the end of the novel ‘In the Sign of the Lion’, even though the trilogy could be considered finished, I still left open possible developments for a subsequent storyline. The main characters, who have kept us company so far, are all dead, starting with Bernardino and ending with Marquis Andrea Franciolini. Countess Lucia Baldeschi has also disappeared from the scene; we do not know whether she is dead or still alive. Their heirs are left to continue the plot of a story that goes further and further into the 16th century. The earl's daughter Laura has married the young Marquis Colocci, who will certainly claim the title of Captain of the People of the City of Jesi. But little Francesco Franciolini also grows up and will not stand idly by and watch his brother-in-law usurp the title that is rightfully his. We discover a very young Francesco, but already determined, already very combative, and who will succeed in unmasking the dark sides of his elder sister's groom. On the other hand, we have Anna, Laura and Francesco's half-sister, who has remained in Apiro to follow the possible traces of her mother, who disappeared years ago during a witches' sabbath. With the help of her friend Elisabetta, she will have to study the magical and esoteric arts to reach a high level of knowledge that can help her reunite with her adoptive mother.

And let's not forget the parallel story of the scholar Lucia Balleani and the archaeologist Andrea Franciolini, our contemporaries, who this time will have to deal with the mysteries of an underground Jesi, where they will be able to walk along some pipes that can be traced back to the ancient Roman aqueduct and where they will find a mysterious spherical stone, which will be the puzzle of this new episode.

In short, all the elements are there to tackle a story that will once again take us through the alleys, squares and palaces of a splendid city in the Marches, famous throughout the world for being the birthplace of Emperor Frederick II of Swabia, and whose most important square is dedicated to him.

At this point, I would not like to reveal more, but only wish you a good read!

Stefano Vignaroli

CHAPTER 1

Bernardino, upon his death, had left an inheritance not unlike the one he had named in his will. Not so much financially, but in terms of the commitment that would have been involved in carrying on a business to which he had dedicated his entire life. He could never bear to die knowing that his print shop in Via delle Botteghe in Jesolo would close its doors following his departure. He had therefore called to his bedside one of the best notaries in the area of Jesi, Ser1 Damiano Sangiorgi, great-grandson of the famous Ser Antonio from San Giorgio, who had practiced as a notary in Pesaro, in the service of the Dukes of Urbino and Pesaro, for over forty years during the tenth-fifth century. The profession of notary was at the time one of the most widespread in Jesi and the surrounding area. Apart from being warrantors of testamentary wills, notaries were called upon to draw up deeds of sale of land, both agricultural and within the city walls, the latter being much more coveted as it was suitable for building. Sometimes it was a real competition between the representatives of noble families to grab the most suitable land on which to build their palace, so the notaries had to assess who had made the best offer, even with the difference of a few coins, to assign the land to this or that party. And the notary's decision, in the end, could never be challenged. So, he not only had a lucrative profession, but was also held in high esteem by the citizens, especially those in the upper middle classes.

Ser Damiano armed himself with patience, as well as pen and inkwell, and approached the bed where Bernardino had been lying for weeks to record his last wishes. He already knew that he would also have to put up with the chatter of the old man, who spent most of his time in absolute solitude, and who saw this occasion as something far more complex than simply dictating his will.

‘Come closer, sir, and tell me how things are going in the town of Jesi’, Bernardino began in a low voice, grasping the notary's hand to draw him closer. ‘In this place, news comes rare and fragmentary, but I, by nature, throughout my life, have always been very curious. Tell me about the economy. How is trade doing? And how are the craftsmen and shopkeepers of Jesi?’

‘Oh, you see, Bernardino, Jesi has its territory abounding in everything that is necessary for human living. The air is very clear, salubrious and vital, the waters are limpid and crystalline, the fields pleasant and the buildings, both those dedicated to God and those destined for gentlemen's dwellings, are adorned with various marbles and paintings. Some of these were even hand-painted by the excellent Michelangelo Buonarroti and the painter Titian. As you know, the city is surrounded by brick walls and thick towers, the work of the great architect and strategist Baccio Pontelli. From the walkways, on one side you can see very pleasant hills, like this one you have withdrawn to, and further on steep and sloping mountains, on the other large plains, as far as the nearby Adriatic Sea. The waters of the river Esino generate, though not in great quantity, very good fish. The land of the Contado2 is always populated with various kinds of animals, so that young people can practice hunting, fishing and birding in many ways. Foreigners and passengers are continually seen, as merchants with various kinds of goods come daily from Perugia, Florence and Ancona, and the neighbouring mountain peoples descend on Jesi to buy grani3 or to sell rascie4 and woolen cloths, of which they are diligent weavers.’

‘You are talking to me about things I already know very well. Tell me about the news!’

‘My Lord, what can I tell you? That the population of Jesi has now exceeded 4,500, and that there are at least two hundred notaries practicing the profession as I do, also since the practice is free, as long as one has followed studies in Law. In this regard, I can state that this discipline is the favourite among students, along with those of war and medicine. But let’s come to it! Would you like to start dictating your will to me?’

‘Of course! Write! Today, on the 23rd day of September, in the year of our Lord 1525, I, Bernardino Manuzzi, in full possession of my mental faculties, have said my last will and testament, which no one will be able to change, to the notary here present Ser Damiano Sangiorgi, who will see to it that it is obeyed to the letter.’

The notary dipped his pen in ink and began to write on the parchment sheet. The work was long and laborious, but Messer Damiano was accustomed to being calm and placid in all circumstances.

CHAPTER 2

The slap came as loud as ever to the little Countess Laura’s face. She felt her head almost spin, a trickle of blood gushed from her nose, and she found herself lying on the bed, with Marquis Alessandro already on top of her, ready to satisfy her perverse sexual urges. Laura was now used to her groom's violence, but this time he was exceeding all limits. Why he was behaving like this with her she still couldn't understand. The man was not much of a warrior, politician or lover. Perhaps the very fact that he felt rather incapable and inept led him to vent his anger on her, on his bride, since he had no other way with which to do it. Of course, when he had accepted her marriage proposal, he had never imagined it would turn out this way. Now she could feel the violent thrusts of the marquis' body thrusting back into her belly. Once again, he would last a few minutes, but that would seem like an eternity to her. He would not even flood her with his seed and, as usual, he would leave her bleeding and aching on the bed, but above all morally destroyed. She had hoped so much that she would get pregnant, so perhaps this spiral of violence would stop, if only for the sake of the future heir, but there was no way. And certainly not because of me, Laura said to herself, increasingly convinced that it was not she who was sterile, but her husband who was unable to procreate. And indeed, during those two years of marriage, she had never felt herself bathed in his semen at the end of an amorous encounter. And even if it had happened, the blood that spilled profusely at the end of each violently consummated relationship would still have carried away with it the eventual seed of a new life. The more time passed, the more she hated her husband. She wanted to eliminate him from her life, but how? Abandon him? She would be singled out by everyone as a faithless bride. Kill him? If she was discovered, either her head would be cut off immediately or, worse, she would spend the rest of her existence in a dark dungeon, feeding on moldy bread and drinking putrid water.

She heard Alessandro let out a deep sigh, a sign that he had already reached his pleasure. But it was not over. She felt herself being lifted off the bed, pulled by the hair, then the Marquis gave her two more slaps, a forehand and a backhand. The latter caused her such pain that she almost fainted. It took all her fortitude not to give in, slumping to the ground. Her groom's left hand was still firmly entwined in her curly blond hair and if she had released herself, she might have found herself skinned.

‘I will have to be away for a couple of months,’ she heard his almost muffled words reach her ears. ‘I have to reach the Germanic lands, Bavaria, where I will visit an important monastery of the Dominican Fathers. So, put on your chastity belt! Now! You women are all sluts. Let it never occur to you that during my absence the idea of lying with another man might assail you. I must leave quietly! I must think about political affairs, I cannot be distracted by the thought of you having a good time in someone else's arms.

‘Do I have to wear th... that torture device?’

‘Do you dare disobey me?’, and so saying he grabbed a sharp hairpin from the combing man, bringing it into contact with the skin of her neck and threatening her. ‘If you do not obey at once, I will cut your throat like a chicken!’

Tears in her eyes, still completely naked, Laura grabbed the metal and leather object, tightened it around her waist, passed the security strip, which had two small holes for excrement to pass through, around her crotch, then turned around so that Alessandro could close it at the back with the padlock.

She watched helplessly as he slipped into his stockings, depositing the key into the lock in an inside pocket. Then, still bare-chested, with his doublet slung over one shoulder, her husband left the room. He did not even have the strength to dress himself. He abandoned himself on the bed and cried for a long time, until he fell asleep. She woke up after a couple of hours, with sweat freezing on her. She shivered, partly from the cold, partly from tension. She called her handmaiden for help. She needed a long, hot bath before getting dressed and facing the harsh reality again...

Alessandro had had a bad relationship with female persons from a very young age. He had never known his mother, who had died giving birth to him. His father, Marquis Pierpaolo, later married again and had three daughters with his second wife. The fact that his stepmother did not regard him as her own son and only paid attention to her own daughters, caused little Alessandro to start hating both her and his stepsisters and to extend his hatred to the entire female gender. In his adolescent phase, the Marquis had developed a very closed character. He was very shy, and it was impossible for him to relate naturally to young damsels, as his companions did so casually. Marquis Pierpaolo had noticed his son's difficulties and had decided, already at the age of thirteen, to launch him into a military career. But even here, in training, he had had great difficulties, both in dealing with his superiors, by whom he did not tolerate being commanded, and because he was very clumsy in handling weapons.

‘A boy like that is destined to be killed at the first battle he faces,’ were the words the lieutenant addressed to Marquis Pierpaolo, referring to his rampollo5, advising him to take him back to the four domestic walls.

But during that training period, Alessandro had discovered a dark side to his character. At the age of 20, he had still never had sex, neither with damsels nor with harlots. But he had noticed that seeing other people suffer aroused him, especially if they were female. One evening, he and some of his companions, returning to camp after spending time at the tavern, came across a damsel who had lingered in the village and was returning home alone. Two of her friends, quite drunk, knocked the girl to the ground and lifted her skirt. Then they turned to him, urging him: Come on, she's all yours! What are you waiting for? Do you want to remain a virgin for life?’ Seeing that Alessandro hesitated, as he did not know what to do, one of the two continued. ‘If you don't take advantage of this, we'll be forced to kill you right away. It's not like we can afford to have you report us to the authorities!’ And so, saying, he began to wrap his hands around the neck of the girl still lying on the ground. She was wriggling, she was panting, her face was turning purple, her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets. And such a spectacle was arousing Alessandro, who felt his member growing inside his stockings. He would have liked to intervene to save the damsel, but he was paralyzed, watching her suffer. And at the same moment as she took her last breath, he realized that her stockings were getting wet with his humours. His two friends grabbed the young woman's helpless body and threw it over the parapet of a bridge. The dull thud of the body as it encountered the waters of the river aroused him again, so much so that he arrived at the training camp with his member still erect. In the following days he would often think back to the scene, grasping his sex with his hands and reaching out in pleasure, thinking of that woman suffering and dying. And in his imagination, he would have wanted to give the same treatment to his stepmother and stepsisters, becoming aroused even at the thought of their violent deaths. He understood that these thoughts and actions of his were sinful, that he should immediately go to a priest to confess and ask for forgiveness. He tried to restrain himself, to think of something else, but it was stronger than him. Every day he fell back on it, every time his fantasy took him on a journey and so, often more than once a day, he achieved his insane pleasure.

Having abandoned his military career and returned to Jesi, his father had proposed that he marry the young countess Laura Franciolini-Baldeschi who, through unfortunate events, had recently lost both her father and mother. Apart from the fact that this marriage would entitle him to the title of Captain of the People of the Jesine Republic, Alessandro hoped that making love to a sweet damsel who was in love with him would perhaps help him to banish the bad thoughts that kept tormenting him, so that he could be rid of them forever. But it was not to be. Already as it was on the wedding night, he realized his impotence. Laura was beautiful, he had caught a glimpse of her beautiful nudity in the half-light of the room when she had entered it, before she blew out the candles and, in the dark, let herself be enveloped in his arms. He felt her naked body, warm, eager for love, but his member did not seem to move, and for that night he had failed to satisfy his young bride. She asked him why he did not like her, why his body was not pleasing to him, but he had closed himself, as was his character, in absolute muteness. This angered Laura even more, until she got out of bed, lit a couple of candles and wrapped them in a sheet, and left the room.

Another woman to hate! Alessandro thought to himself. All women are the same, they just deserve to be treated badly, to be beaten up and maybe killed! And as he was already imagining his hands tightening around Laura's neck, he felt his member swelling. Indeed! He could not get aroused except by practicing violence on the object of his desires. But he certainly couldn't use it on his bride. How would she have judged him? As a madman, as one to be distanced from!

The subsequent amorous encounters also went badly. He tried to use expedients. He thought back to that damsel strangled before his eyes by his comrades and began to get aroused, but when he tried to penetrate his woman, either his erection waned, or he couldn't bring himself to flood her womb with his semen. Until one evening Laura insulted him badly.

‘Are you perhaps a sodomite? Maybe you like men more than women. Perhaps you would rather take a member in the ass than use yours properly with your bride!’

At those words Alessandro lost it. He slapped her so violently that blood immediately flowed from her nose and mouth. Then he took a lighted candle and brought the flame close to her hair.

‘If you don't keep quiet, I might really hurt you!’

A lock of Laura's blond hair, upon coming into contact with the candle flame, sizzled, emitting an acrid burning smell that hit Alessandro's nostrils. The woman cried out but was quick to smother the flame that was taking hold of her hair with her hand, while he had an unexpected and sudden arousal, imagining her enveloped in flames that were burning her alive. He put the candle back and resumed making love, violently, sparing his woman no further pain. While she screamed and cried, he finally achieved pleasure. Of course, he had achieved it in a very short time, but perhaps he had at last succeeded in bringing about fruitful intercourse. He had realized that he had to make her suffer in order to satisfy her and in the following encounters he would use more tricks, in a crescendo of violence that would lead him to beat her up, burn her with candles, sometimes even whip her before mating with her, in the hope that sooner or later Laura would become pregnant and for a good while he would be able to leave the duties of the thalamus behind. But that seemed to be a long time coming.

Maybe Laura is sterile, Alessandro thought, or will it be my semen that is unfit to procreate?

Whatever the reason, with each new amorous encounter she had to use more and more violence for the act to succeed. But Laura was now so full of bruises and burns that for days on end she did not go out in public so as not to be seen in that condition. In addition, the Marquis had also become jealous of his own wife, as he feared that she would not hesitate to lie with another man to have a child. And so, he had bought that chastity belt, so that if he had to go away for some reason, he could be sure that his wife would not betray him.

When Esther, his personal handmaiden, entered the room and saw her like that, naked, beaten, bleeding and with that belt on, she had a pang of compassion.

‘My lady, is he gone?’

‘Yes, thank goodness. He has a long journey ahead of him. I don't think he'll be back for a couple of months. But he forced me to wear this...’

Esther placed the index finger of her right hand in front of the tip of her nose.

‘Be quiet! These tools have padlocks with a special key, shaped like a goose beak, which is very difficult to reproduce or forge. But I know a locksmith who knows how to work miracles,' and so saying, he took a small metal tool out of a sack in his robe, slipped it into the lock of the padlock and after a few moments unlocked it, freeing his mistress from her chastity belt. ‘That's it! Put the belt in a safe place and wear it again when your Lord returns.’

Then the handmaiden began to take care of her mistress. With the help of a jug, she poured hot water into a tub, adding perfumed flower petals, then invited Countess Laura, still naked and trembling, to immerse herself. With the help of a soft linen cloth, he began to massage his mistress's whole body, lingering long over her breasts and pubic area. Esther discovered that she was attracted to her mistress' beauty, but also realized that, from the way she was surrendering and releasing herself, the countess was not indifferent to her caresses. She put away the linen cloth and continued to caress her with her bare hands. With the same cupped hands, he took some still warm water and poured it over her nipples, then massaged them with circular movements of his palms. When he heard the Countess sigh, he brought his lips to hers and began to kiss her. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, going down to her still-wet breasts, where he lingered for a long time. Then he helped her up and began to kiss her most intimate parts.

Laura had never experienced anything like it. Her handmaiden was making her feel sensations she had never experienced before. She let herself dry off, let Esther guide her to the bed, where they lay together for a long time, between kisses and caresses. When she finally felt her handmaiden penetrating her with her tongue, simulating a male member with it, she let herself be carried away to a pleasure so intense that she almost lost her senses.

‘And now we must hurry to find a man who will give you a child. After due reckoning, the Marquis will have to believe that the child is his and that it was conceived before his departure’, were the last words the countess heard her handmaiden utter before falling into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER 3

The difficulty lies not so much in developing new ideas as in escaping from old ones.

(John Keynes)

The journey Marquis Alessandro Colocci had set out on was by no means an easy one. Reaching Bavaria involved crossing an important mountainous bulwark, the Dolomites, but trusting in the fact that it was now the end of May, he would not have encountered any major difficulties due to the snow. The main passes to be crossed he would find free. What worried him most was not so much the mountains, but the fact that during the long journey he could easily run into gangs of miscreants. And he, as his lieutenant had pointed out to him during his military training, was not at all skilled in the use of weapons. He therefore had to protect himself in a different way, perhaps by using effective stratagems. He had therefore chosen to appear as a humble wayfarer, rather than as a rich nobleman. A simple, albeit fast mount, no escort, no banners, nothing that would make him appear easy prey to brigands. The Eridan Plain was the most treacherous area. Not that it was no longer infested with dangerous bands of Lansquenets, as it had been until a couple of decades before, but common bandits could suddenly emerge from the thick of the woods or from the swirls of the fog, almost always present, to claim the scarsella6, if not the life of the poor unfortunate. For Alessandro, the important thing was not to react to such individuals, because he knew well that in a confrontation, he would certainly get the worst of it, even risking his own life. So, he had prepared several small boxes with a little money, to give satisfaction to any assailants, who would certainly be content and let him leave safely. In this inconspicuous manner, he had crossed the great River Po, arrived in Mantua and continued to Sirmione, suffering only a couple of assaults by common bandits, whom he had satisfied without much fuss, handing over a few coins and complaining that he had been robbed of all his possessions. In Sirmione, he allowed himself a couple of days' rest at the Rocca Scaligera, also in the hope of meeting Duke Guidobaldo II della Rovere. The latter, in fact, although he had long since returned to the Pesaro area to perform his duty of governing the Duchy of Urbino, continued to be governor-general of the land armies of the Serenissima Republic, a title given to him by his father Francesco Maria from a very young age. And so, the Duke of Urbino often stayed in Venetian lands and, rather than enduring the humid and unhealthy air of Rovigo, where the army under his command was stationed, he much preferred to spend his days at the pleasant shores of Lake Garda. Alessandro was lucky, he caught a glimpse of the duke busy talking to the captain of the castle guards and waited for a good opportunity to draw his attention.

‘My Lord, I humbly beg your pardon if I disturb you, but I wanted to introduce myself to you. I am Marquis Colocci of Jesi and indeed I married the daughter of Marquis Franciolini, who served your father faithfully in his time.’

‘I met the Marquis when I was little more than a child in this very castle. He was a valiant commander and served my father Francesco Maria faithfully. I am truly saddened to learn that he met an untimely death in an insulting Saracen joust. Fate is sometimes cruel indeed. But tell me about yourselves! Having married the Marquis' daughter, you have also taken her place as Captain of the People. Are you leading the Jesi Republic now?’

‘Let's say yes, but maybe not for much longer. Capitan Franciolini also has a male heir, Francesco, who has not yet reached the age of majority. Likely, before long he will claim his rightful title and I will have to step aside.’

‘That is not to say that you cannot govern together. You are of the same family, better to be allies than enemies.’

‘Who knows, we'll see!’ hesitated Alessandro, trying not to betray his dislike of the young Franciolini. ‘Unfortunately, Franciolini is not much liked by His Holiness. Pope Paul III is convinced that he is close to the heretical ideas of the Lutherans. It is precisely for this reason that I am going to Bavaria, at the request of the pope himself, to learn about the fight against heretics and witches and to return home with the right weapons to counter these snakes that have lurked in the bosom of our mother church. I will reach the Dominican monastery known as the Hochfliegender Adler, the Monastery of the Soaring Eagle. It is said to be here that the two Dominican monks Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger wrote the ‘Malleus Maleficarum’. I will be able to consult the original text and draw very useful information from it.’

‘Be careful. I believe the pope is using you for the sole purpose of achieving his aim, which is to definitively subjugate all the territories of the Marches to the power of the Church State. I too am not well liked by Paul III, especially since, having married Giulia da Varano, I have extended the rule of the Della Rovere family to the Duchy of Camerino. I think the pope will not be slow to act against me or my lineage. But I will not yield, and will go on my way, come what may. The place you are heading for is infamous for its fight against heretics and witches, it is the seat of an important tribunal of the Holy Inquisition, which since the year of our Lord 1487 to date has condemned no less than 537 people to the stake, most of them women. They say that in the square in front of the convent there is always a woodpile ready to receive the witch or heretic on duty. Listen to me, give up this mission. Go back to Jesi and live in peace with your citizens. You will be much more respected as an enlightened governor than as a hunter of witches and heretics.’

‘You see, I have now given my word to the Holy Father, and I certainly cannot back out any longer’, replied Alessandro, who was already anticipating the fact that he could easily witness one or more executions at the stake there. ‘But I promise you that I will try to be very objective about what I can learn about this delicate matter.’

‘Do as you like, but I repeat, do not trust the pope's words too much, and do not be afraid of him. You can stand up to him if you like. Your goal is not easy to reach, and I am not talking about the Brenner pass, which you will also cross easily. Nor will it be difficult to go up the Inn Valley and reach Bavaria. But the Convent of the Soaring Eagle is in an impassable valley and is surrounded by a dense forest infested with brigands of the worst kind. Forget witches and heretics! The monks are quite right in having that rabble condemned to death. Making them pass through the yoke of the Holy Inquisition, however, only plays in the hands of the official church led by the Holy Father. They are nothing but scapegoats, even though they deserve to be executed anyway. I hope for your sake that you can get to the monastery without any major problems, because I have the impression that our dear pope has entrusted you with this mission in the hope that you will not get out alive. A word of advice’, the duke finally told him, putting his hand on his shoulder and taking his leave. ‘On your way up the Adige Valley, stop in Bozen and let Duke Franz of Vollenweider accommodate you. He is a little old, but he will certainly remember his great friend Andrea de' Franciolini. And perhaps he will provide you with a couple of men who can act as your guide and escort. It is not prudent to venture alone into foreign territories, where you will not even understand the idiom spoken by the people you meet.’

‘Latin is a language spoken throughout the known world’, Alessandro tried to reply.

‘It may be so for the nobles and prelates but, believe me, the common people have not learned Latin since time immemorial. Everyone speaks the vernacular language of their own territories. And the more you venture towards the Tyrol, the less you will understand the words of your interlocutors.’

‘I will treasure your advice, Duke. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope to meet you again in our beloved Marche lands.’

‘Good luck, my dear Marquis!’ and uttering these words Guidobaldo tapped him on the shoulder a couple of times with the hand that until then he had only been resting on it. Then he turned in on himself, moving away from him.

Bolzano was a small agglomeration of houses with a medieval appearance. It stood in the valley of the Talvera river, a tributary of the more important Adige, in territories subject to the Holy Roman Empire, still ruled at the time by Charles V of Habsburg. The population mostly spoke a Germanic language, Bavarian, an idiom that Alessandro would hear all the way to his destination. He spurred his horse towards the castle, which stood imposingly in the centre of the village and looked more like a residence than a defensive construction. But its towers left no doubt, and it was still the most imposing building in the village. Franz of Vollenweider, Grand Duke of South Tyrol, welcomed with open arms the man who presented himself as belonging to the lineage of his old friend Andrea Franciolini. The grand duke was now in his sixties, but still a powerful and muscular man. Only the wrinkles, which crossed his face in deep furrows, contrasted with his physical prowess. Alessandro, who was above average in stature anyway, felt like a dwarf next to him.

‘And so, my young Marquis, you are the groom of my great friend Andrea's daughter!’ The grand duke addressed him, gazing into his eyes and offering him a mug of amber, bubbly liquid. ‘I felt great sorrow when I learned of the stupid end he met, in a foolish joust of knights. A valiant warrior and leader like him, dead in such an absurd manner. And I also had to feel guilty, knowing that he had gone to Florence to honour a will expressed by Giovanni dalle Bande Nere, and which I, myself had advocated in my own words at the time.’

He shook his head, thoughtful, drank from his tankard and invited the young man to do likewise. Alessandro, who had never drunk beer in his life, judged the drink to be bitter and unpalatable to his palate, but he could not offend the Lord, whose guest he was, and he swallowed the contents of his cup in one gulp. Immediately he felt air rising from his belly and escaping audibly from his mouth. He was about to apologise, when the grand duke also burped loudly, and then resumed speaking, without even giving him a chance to speak.

‘You are young, but I hope, nay believe, that you can be a valiant substitute for Marquis Franciolini in the leadership of your city and countryside.’

‘Well, I will try to do my best. And I believe I can learn very well from you and your words. I see that the people here are happy, they are quiet and live in peace. Thanks to you, in all probability!’

‘But, you see, here I am the authority recognised by the emperor, but I leave the administration of the city to the Burgomaster, who is elected every year by the population. If not necessary, I try not to influence his activities and decisions. I look after my fiefdom, my lands and my peasants, and we all live in peace. I have been and am a warrior, but I have well understood that one's citizens are not to be subjugated by force and terror. If they are happy, they will be well rewarded. My peasants pay promptly for the use of my land. If they have no money, they reward me with the fruits of their labour. They have plenty to live on and they all love and respect me. A great enemy of mine, the Duke of Von Frundsberg, captain of the Lansquenets, liked to quote a phrase, which he even attributed to the great emperor Julius Caesar: ‘Many enemies, much glory! I have never agreed with this motto, in fact I am convinced of the opposite. Of course, force must be used in certain cases, but it must also be dosed with cunning. And remember he is cunning who is attentive to the good of his people. For that people, when the time comes, will know how to stand by them rather than turn their backs on them.’

Alessandro was so impressed by the Grand Duke's words that he did not dare reveal to him the purpose of his journey, let alone ask for men to escort him as far as Bavaria, as Guidobaldo had suggested. He judged, in fact, that he would make a very bad impression on the man who looked so wise.

‘Well, my friend’, Franz continued. ‘I will be happy to accommodate you for as long as you wish. But you have not told me why you are on your way to the Germanic lands. Not that it is an obligation on your part to reveal it to me, but you make me curious. To set out from lands bound to the dominion of the church to venture into places strictly belonging to the emperor is certainly not common.’

‘Well, you see’, Alessandro scoffed. ‘I am very devoted to St Dominic and have decided, at this stage of my life, to make a pilgrimage to an important monastery of the Dominican Fathers in Bavaria, to pay homage to the saint.’

‘I understand. So, you will certainly go to the Andechs monastery in Munich. The Dominican fathers brew the best beer in all the Germanic lands there. I advise you to make a good stock of it and take it home with you.’

‘I will treasure all your words. Although it is not the monastery you mentioned that I am headed to, but one located in a much more impervious location.’

‘You will not by any chance be directed to the Hochfliegender Adler!’ the grand duke seethed. ‘It is a place I would not feel comfortable recommending to anyone.’

‘I would rather not answer and keep my destination a secret. Do not worry. This trip represents a journey for me in search of my identity, in search of myself. That is why I travel alone and try to appear as a simple traveller without showing off my noble insignia.’

‘I could have a couple of my men accompany you, but from the way you speak, I don't think you would accept. Good luck then, my young friend!’

‘I thank you, my lord. I see that, besides being an enlightened person, you also know how to read the hearts of those in front of you. I will only take advantage of your hospitality for tonight, and tomorrow I will set out again before dawn.’

‘I will have a room prepared for you. And do not forget that at dinner you are my guest.’

Alessandro honoured the dinner offered to him by Franz, then immediately retired to his assigned room to rest. He was tired, but he did not get much sleep that night. Vollenweider's words had impressed him, even favourably, but his aims were to come to a place where he would see people suffer, where he would learn how to torture and then condemn women and men to atrocious tortures in the name of the Holy Church. And he already had his victims in mind, to be snatched once back in Jesi. And all this excited him. He could not renounce it, no. Franz di Vollenweider's ideas were noble, and it would have been nice to follow them, leaving aside his grim designs. But the difficulty was not in believing in new ideas. The difficulty lay in abandoning those that were now ingrained in his mind. And which his mind associated with his sexual sphere, in a vicious circle from which he was certain he would never again break free.

CHAPTER 4

Women, because they are weak and of inferior intelligence,

are more easily prone to succumb to the temptations of the

devil.

(From “Malleus Maleficarum” – 1487)

They stood for several hours at the edge of the clearing, hidden, trying not to make the slightest noise. The four witch-hunters were about to give up, when a large, red, full moon, low on the horizon, began to shine in the sky. Almost simultaneously they noticed the glow of a newly lit bonfire. The seven girls had appeared as if from nowhere, had shed their robes and begun the dance.

‘Before we intervene, let's wait until they begin to huddle together,’ the eldest of the hunters, the one who apparently had to be the leader of the four, whispered. ‘It will be easier to catch them, and we can also bring one more charge against them, sodomy.’

‘These are spit-meat anyway!’ one of the other three tried to retort, immediately silenced only by a glance from his leader.

‘Be silent and intervene when I order you to. They outnumber us. So, each of you will have to take care of two damsels, while I will take care of the eldest. Do not be fooled by these witches. The reward will be great when we hand them over to the inquisitors of the monastery, but we must capture all seven of them. Never look them in the eye and the game will be easy. And if they try to seduce you, resist. To mate with a witch is to be damned forever.’

Alessandro had reached the monastery early in the morning, just as a wagon, pulled by two nags, was arriving from the main road, carrying seven women on its caisson, their hands tied behind their backs, dressed only in rough robes. The one who appeared to be the oldest had also been blindfolded.

‘Who are they?’ he asked the men leading the wagon in curiosity as he came up beside them, well aware that he would most likely not be understood.

‘Witches!’ replied the oldest of the four men, in oddly accented Latin. ‘We captured them last night in the woods and will now hand them over to the inquisitors. There's quite a reward waiting for us!’

‘Why did you blindfold her?’ he asked again, pointing at the older woman.

‘See that big dark spot on his neck, on which hair also grows? It is the mark of the devil! We have learnt well to recognise it. A witch who has this mark is very powerful. She can harm you with her powers just by looking at you. That is why we blindfold her, to make sure that her gaze does not land on any innocent person. In any case, as early as tomorrow she will no longer cast curses on anyone! Hure!’ and burst into a fat laugh, spurring the horses on. The jolt caused by the sudden increase in gait caused two of the young witches to fall bodily onto the wagon bed covered with straw. In the acrobatics performed to try to get back on their feet, the robe of one of them lifted, leaving all her legs uncovered up to the pelvis. Alessandro's eyes were struck by the sight of the girl's groin area, covered in thick blond hair. He judged the young woman very beautiful. She was rather tall, her legs slender and tapered, her skin pinkish, her hair blond and her eyes blue. But what excited him was not her features, but the thought that in the days to come he might watch her burn in the flames of a bonfire.

He put his horse into a gallop, partly to chase away the bad thoughts, partly to try to present himself to the prior of the monastery before the grim individuals, who were likely to deliver the witches to the same prior.

Father Nicholas glanced at the letter of credentials shown by the Marquis and even initialled with the papal seals.

‘Had it not been for this important bulwark, represented by our monastery, fighting heretics and witches, the Lutheran heresy would have reached Rome long ago by now,’ he said, shaking his head and handing the parchment back into Alessandro's hands without even reading it. ‘You do well to come here and learn how to fight these dangerous individuals. They can lurk anywhere. They must be discovered and executed wherever possible. I will be happy to personally teach you how to do it. Welcome to the Monastery of the Soaring Eagle, Marquis Colocci! One of these days you will certainly witness an Auto-Da-Fè7.’

‘An... Auto-Da-Fè?’

‘An act of faith! You will see, it will be very interesting for you. The condemned, before going to the gallows, must abjure their false beliefs and make their peace with the Lord our God. You must at least try to save their souls, even though most of them refuse to plead guilty and therefore die without being redeemed.’

‘You always speak of men and women when you speak of suspects of heresy and witchcraft, but from what I have learned by hearsay, most of the convictions concern women. On my way here I saw with my own eyes a cart with prisoners. And they were all women. How come?’

‘One step at a time, my young Marquis. Begin with studying, then we shall see!’

The prior did not have time to dismiss Alessandro, for the door swung open and the four witch-hunters thrust the seven women captured in the woods into the room.

‘All witches, Father,’ exclaimed the leader of the four. ‘We have seen with our own eyes their blasphemous practices and we shall be able to bear witness to them. Give us our just reward and hand these women over to the torturers and inquisitors, that they may suffer their just sentence.’

‘Before handing over the money to you, the inquisitors will have to let me know whether they are indeed guilty or not. Return in a few days and you will get your reward.’

‘Few stories. They are witches. Look at their marks!’ and so saying he snatched the habit away from the girl whom Alessandro had already been able to appreciate shortly before. Then the henchman took a very sharp knife and shaved off her pubic and armpit hair, pointing with the tip of it at three important patches of skin, one on her left breast, near the nipple, one on her left armpit, and the last, the largest and most extensive one right at the groin area that was previously hidden by thick blond hair. ‘As you can see, there is no shadow of a doubt. Give us our reward and keep the witches!’

Father Nicholas sighed and fetched his saddlebag, handing each of the four hunters a couple of silver coins. Since the latter did not seem satisfied and made no sign of leaving, he called the guards.

‘Escort the gentlemen outside the monastery walls and hand these women over to the inquisitors. It is up to them to prove their guilt or otherwise!’

Finally, he turned his gaze to the Marquis, whose forehead was beaded with sweat and an obvious bulge visible through his brassieres. He encircled his shoulders with an arm.

‘You see, my young friend. If you must fight witches, you must learn to remain impassive in the face of their nakedness. You must not give in to impure thoughts, let alone indulge in carnal relations with them, for that is precisely what they want. They lure you with their flesh to save your life, but you will be damned forever. I repeat, you have a lot to learn. Start by studying the texts.’

Alessandro followed the prior's advice and retired to the library to devote himself to the study of the Malleus Maleficarum and other texts that indicated how to recognise witches, how to obtain confessions of their alleged faults, and what punishments to inflict according to each case...

‘The twelfth way to conclude and terminate a trial of faith is when the accused of heretical depravity, having diligently discussed the individual charges, with the distinguished counsel of experts in the law, is found to be caught in the act by the evidence of the fact or by the legitimate production of witnesses, even if not by his confession. This occurs when the accused himself is legitimately proved of some heretical depravity either by evidence of the fact, such as if he publicly practices heresy, or by legitimate witnesses, against whom the accused cannot legitimately object, and yet he himself, thus proved and caught in flagrant error, firmly persists in his denial and constantly acknowledges it.

This practice must be observed regarding him. He is to be kept in the hard prison with chains and shackles, he is to be frequently admonished with efficacy by the officers, together or separately, on their own initiative or that of others, so that he may reveal the truth to them, making it known that if he does so and confesses his error, he is to be remanded to mercy, abjuring heretical depravity from the beginning. If, on the contrary, he has not wanted to, but has been persistent in his denial, he will finally be left to the secular arm and will not escape temporal death...’

As he read, he occasionally heard the agonising screams of the arrested women coming from the rooms where they were tortured. By now he understood that the torturers and inquisitors had to get them to confess. Only in this way could they be sentenced to death, to be finally brought to the gallows, to the stake. And one day would not have been enough, as those four witch-hunters had led them to believe. The torture would go on for several days, then there would be the trial, sentencing and eventual execution. He would have wanted to witness the torture, even though he knew very well that he would never be allowed to. Just hearing the women scream already aroused him, but he tried to restrain his instinct to touch himself and achieve pleasure just by thinking of that young blonde witch subjected to the most atrocious suffering. And yet he knew that within a few days he would certainly witness the execution of if not all, at least some of those seven women. The mere thought of it already excited him, but for the moment he had to try to concentrate on his study. Who knows, if he had demonstrated to the prior that he had assimilated the basic concepts of the Inquisition in a short time, perhaps he would have been able to attend the trial at least.

One particular practice that had struck him while studying the library texts was that of the Auto-Da-Fè, or act of faith, a practice implemented mainly by the Spanish Inquisition, but also widespread in other areas. A practice he would certainly adopt once he returned to his homeland. An Auto-Da-Fè involved a Mass, prayers, a public procession of the offenders and the reading of their sentence. The condemned were dragged in public with their hair shaven, dressed in robes, known in Spanish as Sanbenitos. or you know of penitents, and with donkey caps, or corazos, headgear with a central slit They were led by lashings, varying in number according to the sentence, through the streets of the village, to the stage where they would either abjure their heretical faith or admit the fact that they were people dedicated to witchcraft. The images reproduced on the offender's robes indicated the punishment decreed: a St Andrea's cross if he had repented in time to avoid torture, half a cross if he had suffered a fine, flames if sentenced to death. The Auto-Da-Fè took place in the public square and lasted several hours, with the participation of ecclesiastical and civil authorities. The condemned person who had in no way shown repentance, therefore called pertinacious, or who had been previously condemned by the Inquisition, therefore called relapsed, was destined to be burnt alive. He could repent in extremis, either immediately after the sentence or at the stake, but only if he was not relapsed: in the latter case, as an act of clemency, he was first strangled or beheaded and then his body was burnt. Those who came forward spontaneously for the first time and confessed their mistake, indicating all possible accomplices, without, however, excluding torture in any case, were given lesser punishments, such as exile, prison, public flogging, or the simple obligation to wear the infamous cross dress. False accusers, on the other hand, were required to sew two red cloth tongues on their clothes. Death sentences were carried out by the civil authorities according to the sentence of the Inquisition.

The last text Alessandro picked up was a treatise by Tomàs de Torquemada, the famous Spanish inquisitor, one sentence of which particularly struck him: “Not a single witch should be left alive. Better to burn an innocent woman than to risk leaving a dangerous witch around.”

Within a week, following interrogation and torture, all the alleged witches had confessed their guilt. As the trial at the local Inquisition tribunal was open to the public, Alessandro tried to gain a front row seat to attend. When he saw how the seven women had been reduced by the torturers, despite his tendencies, he could hardly hold back a retch of vomit. They were practically unrecognisable, their heads shaved, dressed in jute sacks, their eyes stinky, with visible bruises and burns on various parts of their bodies. Their will had been crushed by the torturers. Before the judges, they would have admitted any guilt, even that of being able to fly on a broomstick, in order to put an end to their suffering. Apart from the eldest, about whose guilt there was no shadow of doubt, all the young witches, one after the other, admitted that they were relapsed, that they had already been caught in the woods in flagrante during a Sabbath or in the exercise of the magical arts. Each one was heard, and each declared her guilt, some of having dried up their neighbour's crops, some of having produced magic potions, some of having induced abortions in young maidens who had requested them, some of having coupled with the devil. Ultimately, each of the sects deserved to be burnt at the stake, deserved to be burnt alive without any possibility of appeal.

‘In view of the results of the interrogations and the acts of the trial’, concluded the inquisitor judge, an elderly Dominican Father, ’by virtue of the powers conferred on my person by the Holy See and the Holy Father Paul III, I recognise all seven of these women, even by their own admission, guilty of heresy and of devotion to the arts of witchcraft and mingling with the devil. They are therefore condemned, in accordance with canonical provisions, to the maximum penalty, and handed over to justice and the secular arm of the law, to be executed by fire. In accordance with the tradition of this Sacred Monastery, the executions must take place tomorrow morning at sunrise, publicly, in the courtyard in front of the church, and the pyres must all be lit at the same time. In the inquisitorial history of this place, it has never happened that seven executions have to be carried out in a single day. In the square there is always a pyre ready to receive a witch or heretic, but six more must be prepared. That is why men of good will are needed, who also work during the night hours to prepare the stacks of wood in a workmanlike manner, but above all, seven strong, laymen are needed to set fire to the seven pyres at the same time. Any of you who feel up to it, make yourselves available to the Prior, who will give him the appropriate instructions. The session is adjourned, the will of the Lord our God be done!’

Alessandro's heart, beat fast in his chest. The words of the Father Inquisitor had struck him. Those seven women would die in the flames the next morning and that fact alone was enough to excite him, but there was more. He was going to present himself to the prior as a candidate to light one of the fires. He would be the one to kill one of the witches, with his own hands. It would have been the first time ever that he would have caused the death of a person, moreover in a very cruel way. But it would have been easy, there would have been no problem. The important thing was to try to keep his mind clear in those moments, to fix everything in his memories and to get excited later by thinking back to the scene.