From Hell with Love (10 page)

He lowered his knees to the dust covering the empty floor of the house of worship and then breathed out deeply.  In contrast to how he treated his departed mother and her faith, Niccolo had never entirely been the religious type.  However, now he knew that something else was at work.  Whether it was God or chance, Niccolo felt like there was little harm in asking for help.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” he muttered, crossing himself with his right hand before clasping both together and lowering his forehead down to contact his thumbs.  He felt silly doing this, but there was far too much on the line.  No one would accept him as a leper; no one would want to know him if this disease continued to spread.

“Almighty God,” Niccolo said before raising his head and staring into the cross hanging on the back wall behind the small altar of the church.  “We have not exactly seen…eye to eye, but I come to you a humbled man.  I’m sure in your infinite power that you know why I have come here.  I know it must seem selfish, Lord, but I cannot live with this ailment.  What has stricken me would not just maim me, it would destroy my life.”  Niccolo contemplated his words and bit his lip before continuing.

“My skin, Lord, it cracks and weeps pure infection, ruining my skin.  If my father were to find out, I would be ruined.  If dear Camilla were to find out, I’m afraid that she would no longer love me.  I…I am so close to being the happiest man in the world,” he said, anguish contorting his features.  “To have all this taken away from me seems beyond cruel, but I will not question your ways.  I need your guidance, Lord, and your help.”

“Please,” he choked out the word.  “Tell me what I can do to stop this disease, what I can do to reverse what has happened.  I don’t know what sin I committed, Lord, but if you were to show me some kind of sign, some kind of clue as to what it was, I will repent.  I will give more than my ten percent, Lord; I will devote my future to your worship.  I will do anything as long as you stop this.  As long as I can keep my family and the woman I love.”

“Please,” Niccolo urged as he lowered his head back down to his hands, burying them into his black hair.  “I will not deny you.  That must be it.  Because I did not worship you, you have done this to me.  My father taught me this way.  He told me that everything had its price, including faith in you!  I was led astray!  I am sorry!” he shouted as he looked back up to the cross above the altar, rage filling his voice.  “I am sorry that I did not believe in you before!  It did not seem right to believe in a god that could be so cruel!”

“I…I,” he paused as he realized that a vengeful god would not want to hear these words.  They should have remained secrets within his mind.  He backpedaled, trying to seem like a penitent believer. “I realize now that it is not my place to judge you, Lord.  It’s not my place to accuse you of cruelty or to deny your benevolence.  I seek absolution, Lord, but I cannot do right by you if I am shunned from my household.  I repent, I repent so that I may serve you better,” he said, giving into a deity who possibly did not exist.  He brought up his right hand to his left sleeve, feeling the grooves between the layers of bandages and raised flesh.

“What should I do, my Lord?” he asked, bringing his gaze to the floor in his submission.

“There are ways around it, young Vespucci,” a bemused voice echoed throughout the small church.  Niccolo whipped around, hoping that God himself was appearing to him but knowing through reason that such a thing could not possibly occur, and he was able to see a rather bored-looking individual grooming his nails just a few yards away.  The mysterious man seemed average in every sense of the word, his purple clothing speaking of wealth, but not to the extent of Niccolo’s father.  He had some weight to him, but he did not seem to be the type to overindulge.  His face was merely tired, like he had been awake for too long.

“How much did you hear?” Niccolo asked, furious that someone had eavesdropped on his conversation with what he considered an imaginary being.  The new arrival merely gave a crooked smile before walking slowly toward the kneeling man.

“Enough.  Enough to know that you have something you wish to keep secret from your father, young Vespucci.”

“How do you know…” Niccolo started, but the tired man merely shook his head before setting his hand on a nearby column.

“It is my business to know the individuals who will own the future of Firenze, Niccolo.  I’m only somewhat offended that you do not recognize me from your father’s wedding.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It does not matter much, my boy, as we shall just put it down to the wine you had consumed so readily.  My name is Lorenzo Innocenti, and that’s all we will speak on the subject.”

“Is there any chance that is your real name?” Niccolo asked as he rose from the floor, but the middle-aged man merely shrugged at him.

“Perhaps, young Vespucci, and that’s how I prefer it for now.  I don’t want you to be too concerned with that, as it will not bode well for arranging this blackmail.”

“Blackmail?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo said with a cruel smile, “blackmail.  It was so cruel of your God to send me here this day.  I was only here to light a candle for my dear, departed mother, but I have stumbled upon your misfortune.  But now, now that I think about it, Nico,” he said as he started to pace the room, casting the back wall into shadow as he moved across the light, “it doesn’t have to be unnecessarily painful for you.”

“What are you getting at, you coward?” the merchant’s son asked, violence hidden behind his words.  Lorenzo merely laughed softly at the remark.

“I could help you, Nico.  I could!  This is something within my power.  I have connections throughout Firenze, thus connections throughout the world, and, as such, I know of all kinds of medicines and possible cures for your ailment.”

“What do you want in return?” Niccolo asked, distracted by the burning and itching coming from the sores on his arm.

“Merely a kind word to your father.  Some favorable conditions toward trading agreements.  Perhaps, once you are in a better position, we could arrange some favorable deals of our own…” Lorenzo trailed off, but the glint in his eyes completed the statement.

“And if I refuse, Innocenti?”

“Then you shall die a pauper and you will rot until you do,” he said before turning to face Niccolo straight on.  His grin showed the puffy gums of a man experienced with the sea.  “There are worse things in life than owing a debt, young Vespucci.”

Niccolo turned the man’s words over in his head, but part of him had already been convinced.  He had come to God for a solution, but it seemed that Man would be responsible for his cure.  Or perhaps God was the guiding force for this treacherous deal.  The merchant’s son ignored the pain coming from his arm and stared at his opponent.

“How will I convince my father to give you lenient terms in trade if I do not know your name?” he asked, diverting the true question so he could have more time to consider its implications.

“You should learn to be more trusting in the house of God, Niccolo.  I did not lie about my name.  I
am
Lorenzo Innocenti.  Speak my name with favor and I shall do you the same, Vespucci.  I already have something in mind for this little ailment of yours,” Lorenzo teased, letting his teeth show in another grin.  Niccolo had no choice, it seemed, so he offered his hand in order to symbolize their agreement, but Innocenti shook his head.

“Oh, young Vespucci, there’s no telling where that’s been.  We’ll just consider this deal settled.  Speak well of me to your father, and within the day you will find a package within your room.  Be careful, however,” Lorenzo said as he turned and headed toward the open doorway, “both with your words and your cure.  They each hold their own danger.”

Niccolo stared after the man, wondering how he should approach his father, but soon the man was gone and had turned around a corner into the brightly-lit world outside the church.  Niccolo turned back toward the altar, seeing the cross hanging above it, and sighed.  To Niccolo, it seemed that he had known the truth about the world all along.

Everything had its price.

***

The sun was beaming down on Niccolo as he walked up to his father.  Carlo was busy conversing with one of the overseers for the reconstruction of the Ponte Vecchio, which had been destroyed a few years earlier.  The merchants wanted a more stable construction than wooden beams, so Carlo Vespucci was more than willing to provide stonemasons and connections to various quarries for the effort.  As long as it was within his financial gain to do so, of course.

“Father,” Niccolo said as he held up his left hand to guard his eyes from the sun.  His father, weighed down by other worries, took some time to realize he was being addressed.  After a moment, the elder Vespucci turned to see his approaching son and his face lit up with a broad smile.

“Nico, you scoundrel!  Where have you been these last two days?” he asked as he waited for his son to reach him.  “You’re gone most of the day and no one can tell me where you go.  I even stopped by Marco’s house, I’ll have you know.  I’ll never be able to wear those shoes again.”

“I’m sorry, father,” Niccolo said with a note of sincerity, trying to play the repentant son.  “I haven’t been myself these last two days.  There have been issues on my mind.”

“And what is that, Nico?  Don’t,” he said, walking forward so that others might not overhear through the din of construction, “don’t tell me that Camilla changed her mind.”

“No, no, Camilla is fine,” Niccolo said, waving his hands in front of him in order to sway his father.  Carlo breathed a sigh of relief and then brought his hand down onto Niccolo’s shoulder.

“Then what?  Oh, did you get her pregnant already, Nico?  I wouldn’t be surprised.  We do have a strong bloodline, you know,” Carlo said with a wink, keeping his voice down.

“No, father, I’m…well, to be honest I’m fairly certain I have more self-control than you,” Niccolo said, trying to keep the conversation lighter.  Carlo backed off for a moment in shock, but quickly his face resolved into joy at the turn of phrase.

“Hah, you must have gotten that from your mother.  Perhaps it will make you a better merchant, but who’s to say, Nico?  Perhaps it would do you well to take after your father more,” Carlo said with a sly smile, which forced Niccolo to break into one of his own.  Even though his arm was still bothering him, demanding his attention, he forced the pain to the background.

“Perhaps it would do you better to take after your wife, Master Vespucci.  But, I think that’s enough of that.  Father,” Niccolo said, flinching slightly as he moved his arm, which helped sell his performance, “I would be lying to say that something is not troubling me.  This joking, while all good fun, is not befitting my current perspective.”

“Out with it, boy.  Do not speak to me as if you were selling me something.  I taught you too much of your craft,” Carlo said, crossing his arms, but Niccolo merely nodded his head to the side.

“Then you should know that a Vespucci never abandons his craft,” Niccolo said, seeing his father’s eyes shining with approval.  “I am essentially a man grown, father.”

“You are, my son, you are.  About to take a wife and I must say, half as handsome as I was in my youth.  That is quite the accomplishment,” his father boasted in his casual way.

“In its own way.  What troubles me, however, is that I am not involved with your business.”

“My business?”

“Yes,” Niccolo said, walking over to the waterway.  The Arno, the river flowing through the middle of Firenze, looked especially lovely in the sun.  The light was flickering between the swells of the river and the current of water breaking against the wooden posts that remained from the former bridge.  “If I am to be a true man, I should work for my living.”

“You will, Nico.  I have not groomed you all these years just to leave you to rot,” Carlo said as he approached his son, standing by Niccolo’s side.  “One day my business will
be
yours.  You are my legacy, son, you cannot forget that.”

“But I think it is time that I contribute, Carlo,” he urged, hoping to take his father off-guard by using his first name.  “Even if you will not give me part of your trade, perhaps I can at least help you make decisions.  Help you with a fresh perspective.”

“Carlo, huh,” the merchant muttered as he stared across the Arno, considering the worth of his son.  He turned slightly, peering at Niccolo out of the corner of his eye.  “You are rather bold, my son.  That, I can guarantee, did not come from your mother.  How exactly, did you want to help with this perspective of yours?”

“There is a merchant, father, who I met at your wedding.  A Lorenzo Innocenti.”

“Bah, a miserable man,” Carlo interrupted, but Niccolo continued.

“One does not need to be pleasant in order to be profitable, father.”

“He spent a good deal of an hour ogling my Allegra, Niccolo.”

“Perhaps he was ogling your wallet, father,” he said, which brought a look of shock on his father’s face.  Carlo Vespucci immediately broke into a laugh.

“You know, I’m not exactly sure which one is more attractive.”

“Well, father,” Niccolo said as he turned to the merchant, “from what I’ve heard, this Innocenti might be able to make Allegra a distant second.”

“It would be interesting to hear what you hear, my son,” Carlo muttered, but Niccolo just put his unblemished arm around his father’s shoulders.

“That, father, is exactly what I’m offering.”

***

He could tell by the candle flickering on the windowsill that Camilla was waiting for him.  It was one of the codes they had developed when they were children, evading their parents’ gaze.  Niccolo felt like he could not expose Camilla to his plight, but he yearned for her presence.  It was with quick work that he scaled the tree in the courtyard and then jumped to the windowsill, pulling himself up and over in a swift movement.

This time, when he placed his feet on the landing, Antonio Gherardini was not there to greet him.  However, if he were to get caught this time, there would be much more punishment in store.  Just because the two of them were about to be married did not mean that sneaking into the Gherardini estate at night would not come with consequences.