Carlo was too weak to be questioned for four days. Adrian looked forward to interviewing him, but when that time finally came he found the young man’s recollections a disappointment.
Carlo lay in his bed, a black-haired young man with the large Vossi lips but lacking his grandfather’s or his father’s height. He moved with difficulty because his chest and left arm were bandaged.
All that Carlo could tell him about the assailant was that he was big, wore dark clothing and a black mask, and had a dagger in his bare right hand.
Adrian next asked Carlo to recall the time he spent at the university in Pisa. To remember, especially, the four men who’d since been murdered.
“You knew all of them?” asked Adrian.
“Yes. Especially Guiseppe Noppo. That Venetian was one of my closest friends there. Among the foreigners, my very closest friend.”
“Who was your closest friend among the Florentines?”
“Girolamo Eccli. We traveled home together when we completed our studies.”
“Do you remember anything unusual that happened while you were at Pisa?” asked Adrian.
“Unusual in what way?”
“Did any student or teacher do anything that he would wish to hide from public knowledge or from legal authorities or from the revenge of some powerful person?”
“Can you give me an example of what you’re talking about?”
“Did you become aware of or hear about any murder, theft, rape, beating, cowardice, or anything else that could bring disgrace or embarrassment to someone?”
Carlo looked away, saying nothing.
“Don’t hesitate to talk,” said Adrian. “Whatever you say stops with me. I’m employed by your family.”
“I know of no disgraceful conduct,” said Carlo.
Adrian laughed.
Carlo looked up in shock.
“I went to Pisa myself,” said Adrian. “Only a few years ago, my friend. While I was there one student murdered another, there were two cases of students raping local girls, there was a suicide, and there were numerous thefts, one of which I witnessed. Things must have improved remarkably in the last few years.”
Carlo looked out the window, which faced the palazzo garden. Although his room was on the second floor, the trees of the garden were visible and so were the birds flying among them.
“All right,” he said, still looking out the window. “There were two cases of... misconduct... that I know of which were serious enough to lead to trouble.”
“Did either involve one of the students who has since been murdered?”
“Yes. One of the Milanese students killed a peasant girl who resisted him.”
“Then we’re possibly dealing with her family’s vengeance. Were you and the other students involved?”
“No,” said Carlo. “He was alone. Maybe because we’re all friends the girl’s family thinks we had a hand in it, but I swear we didn’t.”
“What was the girl’s name?”
“Luisa. I don’t know her last name, if she had one.”
Adrian stood in silence for a moment, thinking.
“What will you do?” asked Carlo.
“Have a Vossi agent make inquiries in Pisa about the girl’s family... What was the other incident?”
“Girolamo Eccli stole a jeweled signet ring belonging to a Spanish boy. He was a relative of the late Lord Callistus.”
“Pope Callistus III?”
Carlo nodded.
Adrian shook his head. “If he had to steal, why did he have to steal from a Borgia?”
“The ring was beautiful. Only Girolamo stole it, but he showed it to all of us.”
“By ‘all’ you mean the three Milanese students and Giuseppe Noppo?” When Carlo nodded, Adrian added: “Was the ring ever returned to its rightful owner?”
Carlo looked at Adrian. He said nothing; he didn’t have to. Girolamo Eccli still possessed the Borgia ring.
But who was doing the killing? A peasant family near Pisa to avenge the murder of a daughter? The Borgias to avenge the theft of a valuable signet ring? Or Girolamo Eccli, to kill all the witnesses to his theft before word of his guilt reached the Borgias?
That was when the investigation’s progress stopped.
A Vossi agent in Pisa reported that the father, brothers, uncles, and cousins of the murdered peasant girl had all remained in the Pisa area. None had been absent at the time of any of the murders. Nor could they have afforded to hire an assassin with enough social status to attend a Vossi dinner.
Adrian dared not approach Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia to discover if the clan he headed had embarked upon some sort of vendetta to avenge the theft of the signet ring, because if in fact the Borgias had no idea who stole it Adrian’s doing so would tip them. Instead, he obtained from Carlo the name of the theft victim and asked Leon Vossi to make discreet inquiries about the fellow’s location, so that a Vossi agent might make friends with him and bring up the general subject of thefts. If the victim complained bitterly about thieves, he would not know that Girolamo Eccli stole his ring; if he smiled and said something about thieves getting their due in the end, the Borgias were responsible for the murders.
And then there was Adrian’s interview with Girolamo Eccli.
“It’s false!” the young man shouted. “It’s a lie! I’ve never stolen anything in my life, let alone a valuable signet ring.”
They were seated in a small room in the Eccli mansion overlooking the Via de Serraglia. The room contained several chairs and a stack of unused tables and cabinets. A broken statue of an ancient soldier stood in one corner, guarding a pile of old, tattered woven rugs.
Eccli was a fat young man with black eyes and curly black hair. He continually worried his left sleeve with his right thumb and forefinger while he talked.
“Carlo said that you took it,” pressed Adrian. “He has no reason to lie, especially with his life in danger.”
“Carlo probably took the ring himself. All I know, Signor Della Cle, is that I didn’t.”
“Listen to me,” snarled Adrian. “First your theft and now your refusal to talk has put Carlo’s life at risk. If you don’t adopt a new attitude, it’ll go bad for you.”
Eccli paled. “I’ll call servants,” he stuttered. “They’ll throw you out.”
Adrian shook his head. “How did Carlo ever become friends with a brainless lout like you?”
“You cannot insult me in my own parents’ house.”
Adrian doubled his fists; Eccli backed away. Adrian got control of himself.
“Get out!” ordered Eccli.
“I’ll go if you wish but—”
“Then go!”
“—first there are two things I want you to think about. Afterward, if you still wish me to leave, I shall.”
Eccli said nothing, merely stared angrily at Adrian.
“First, the Borgias,” continued Adrian. “If these murders are their work, and if they know that one of your group stole the ring, your life is as endangered as Carlo’s. In fact, it’s in greater danger because there are more armed men to protect Carlo than there are to protect you. So it’s even more in your interest than in Carlo’s that we determine what’s happening.”
Adrian paused for Eccli to speak; the young man said nothing. But Eccli’s changed expression indicated that he understood Adrian’s point.
“Second, the Vossi,” resumed Adrian. “If you refuse to cooperate, and if Carlo is murdered as a result of your theft, I needn’t tell you how furious the Vossi will be. They will not be stayed in their efforts to get their hands upon you. And — well, you can imagine what they’ll do when they have you in their power.”