The man, big and dressed in dark clothes and a black mask, lunged at Carlo with a dagger.
Carlo had no time to move or even to think. He realized what was happening only when the masked man was already upon him.
The assailant plunged his dagger into what he thought would be Carlo’s chest, but what was in fact a link of the little chain that held the medallion Carlo wore that evening. The tiny chain was too fragile to stop the speeding blade, but before the link broke it slowed it. Only an inch of the knife entered him.
Carlo cried out, stepping back and drawing his own dagger in one motion.
The masked man lifted his blade for a second thrust. He closed on Carlo and swung down the knife on him. Carlo blocked this thrust with his left arm, which was cut to the bone.
The assailant lifted his dagger a third time but heard the footfalls of someone entering the side hall from the stairs to the banquet room. He ran to the door, threw it open, and fled into the night.
“Help me!” called Carlo. “I’ve been robbed!”
Of course Carlo Vossi hadn’t been robbed, but his confusion under the circumstances is understandable.
Adrian della Cle had heard the horses on the Via Ghibellina but had taken no notice. Ordinarily he was the most curious of men, and it was certainly unusual for horsemen to be out in such numbers after dark. If his apartment had been near one of the great palazzi it would have been different because troops of bodyguards often accompanied guests entering or leaving the gates, but there were no palazzi close by. Still, the woman took priority.
Until a fist knocked on his door.
Adrian and the woman both jumped up, she on the far side of the bed and he on the side facing his bedroom door, which led into the front room. They both stared in that direction and waited.
A second knocking followed.
“We’re doomed,” said the woman.
“Doomed?” Adrian swung around, eyes round. “You said you weren’t married.”
“Of course I’m not.”
“Then what’s this talk about being ‘doomed’? Who’s out there?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But nobody knocks on someone’s door at night. Unless they’re expected.”
“Well, I’m not expecting anybody.”
Whoever was at the door knocked a third time, harder than before.
“What’re we going to do?” asked the woman.
“Pick up your clothes and hide. I’ll get dressed.”
“You’re not going to open the door?”
“It sounds like he might break it down if I don’t. Hurry!” Adrian put on his own outer garments except for his shoes and grabbed his sword. He shook off the scabbard and looked back to make sure the woman had concealed herself.
“Wait!” whispered the woman urgently. “It may be my brothers!”
“Brothers?”
For the fourth time, knocking. This time it was less knocking than pounding.
“Adrian della Cle!” called a man at the door. “Please come to the door.”
Adrian walked into the front room.
“This is Della Cle. Who’s out there?”
“Men of Vossi. Open up, please.”
Adrian hesitated only briefly. Possibly this was a trick to get him to open the door. But that was unlikely. Adrian had no enemies except his creditors, and the last thing on earth his creditors wished to do was kill him. His long service for the Vossi kept him in good graces with the aristocratic party; his own democratic politics kept him in good graces with the Asinno party.
He opened the door.
Three men stood outside. The leader was a short man with a grey-streaked black beard. Adrian had seen him when he’d still worked as a troubleshooter for the Vossi. The other two men were private soldiers wearing Vossi livery.
“Signor Della Cle, I’m Piero Yennano. Leon Vossi has sent me here to ask that you come to his palazzo immediately.”
“What’s happened?” asked Adrian. “What’s so important that Leon Vossi would send for me at night?”
“Someone tried to murder Carlo Vossi. The man failed, but his excellency believes that another attempt will be made.”
“Allow me time to dress properly and I’ll accompany you.”
After he shut the door again, Adrian rushed back to his bedroom and began to dress more completely. The woman came out of hiding and started putting on her own clothes even faster than Adrian.
“Is the man at the door gone?” she asked.
“No. He waits for me.”
“Adrian, what’s it about?”
“Employment.”
Adrian was shown into Leon Vossi’s office immediately upon his arrival at the palazzo. The office was the huge room from which the head of the Vossi ran the family’s banking, trading, manufacturing, and political interests. There was a richness and quality about the room, even though there were several obscene paintings among the wall art near the master’s huge stand-up desk.
Leon Vossi paced back and forth on the Byzantine rug, his hands locked behind his back. He was the same tall, dark, full-lipped man as always, with his long face and long aristocratic nose and his mane of long, rough, white hair, but now he was in a greater state of agitation than Adrian had ever seen him in before. When Adrian stepped in and closed the door behind him, Vossi faced him eye to eye.
“You came to work for us right after you finished your studies at Pisa, I believe,” said Vossi without any preamble.
“Yes, sir, a few months after, in 1473.”
“And you did well here, Adrian. You started as a clerk and when you quit two years ago you were... There’s no title for the job, I guess, but suffice it to say that if we had a problem we knew we could usually rely upon you to solve it. But then you decided you wanted to become rich, so you quit and started your own wool trading business, as I believe your father before you had done.”
Adrian smiled. “Yes, sir. And as my father before me had done, I went broke. Only in my case, I didn’t get rich before I went broke.”
“Fewer debts that way, my friend. But that’s the reason I felt I might be able to call upon your services again.”
“If you mean because I have need of employment, you’re as shrewd as ever, your excellency.”
“Good. Then you’re rehired. Now, to business. You were informed about the attack on Carlo?”
“Only that there had been an attack by a masked assailant who escaped. Also, that Carlo was wounded in two places but not fatally. Finally, that you expect a second attack.”
Vossi nodded, then turned and walked back to the tall desk. He removed several sheets of paper with writing on them from its top, shifted them in his hands, and came back around the desk. He glanced from the papers to Adrian, back at the papers again. He stopped in front of Adrian, exactly where he’d stood before.
“This,” said Vossi, indicating the papers, “is a letter from my eldest son Leonardo, Carlo’s father, who is currently on business in Venice. It asks me to take special care to protect Carlo because Leonardo believes that Carlo may be in danger. The letter arrived a week ago.”
“Does Leonardo say where the threat to Carlo comes from, or how he knows of it?”
“You may read the final two pages of Leonardo’s letter for yourself.”