The Medici Return (Cotton Malone #19)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

S IENA , I TALY

10:40 A.M.

C OTTON DROVE A JEEP R ENEGADE THAT C ARDINAL S TAMM HAD obtained for him and Richter. He’d managed a few hours’ sleep, along with a shower and shave. A change of clothes had been provided by Stamm, as a younger man arrived at the apartment with an array of pants and shirts that both he and Richter had utilized. There’d even been food. A breakfast of cornettos and frittatas, along with coffee and juice. He’d never been a big coffee drinker, another one of those unacquired tastes from his youth. Thankfully, the orange juice had been plentiful and delicious.

They’d driven north on the A1 autostrada, a toll road, but the car came with a Telepass that allowed them to pass right through the booths. Stamm had thought of everything. But he’d expected no less. About two hours north of Rome they’d left the autostrada for SS715, the Italian answer to rural divided highways, and headed west.

No tolls here. But more traffic.

The rolling landscape between Florence and Rome, a tangle of orchards, vineyards, and forests, came with an eclectic variety of towns, villages, and hamlets. Each also came with its own charm and story. Siena ranked as one of the most picturesque. A high-piled collection of rosy brick and gray travertine buildings that straggled along the crest of three Tuscan ridges. Its ancient walls, great town hall with a soaring campanile, narrow, hilly, winding streets, and sunlit piazzas all harked back to the Middle Ages. But it also hosted a university, an academy of music, trade, and industry, and a busy agricultural market. Home to about fifty thousand. He knew the legend about its creation, when a soldier named Camulio was sent by Romulus, the founder of Rome, to capture his nephews. Instead of obeying, Camulio stayed and built a town with a grand central portal. Over the centuries that gate, which led north toward Florence, became heavily defended.

The Porta Camollia.

He told Richter what he knew.

“You have a good grasp of history,” the cardinal said. “Many have no idea of that story.”

He smiled. “You’d be surprised how much I can recall.”

He also knew that Siena had a conflicted history. It took the sides of emperors while its rival, Florence, supported popes. For centuries the two cities fought for control of the countryside. Siena rose to be a thirteenth-century center of banking and commercial power, perched right above the Via Francigena, the great medieval highway on the way to Rome. And it made the most of the locale, considering there was neither a river nor a harbor.

“The Porta Camollia is still there,” Richter said. “Three arches, and on the outer one is the Medici coat of arms. The inscription was placed there in the sixteenth century to record the entry of Ferdinand de’ Medici into Siena, when he took control of the town. Along with Cor magis tibi sena pandit . A heart that is bigger than this gate. A bit of tongue in cheek there. Siena had been a proud republic for over four hundred years. But not after that.”

That was the problem with enemies.

Sometimes they won.

“The rub for this town came because the Spanish king Philip II owed huge sums to the House of Medici,” Richter said. “To repay that debt he ceded Siena and its entire territory to Florence, which led to the creation of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, ruled by the Medici. Ferdinand came here in 1558 to personally accept the investiture. He heeded Machiavelli’s advice to hold and occupy the people with feasts and spectacles . So he encouraged the contradas to compete, focusing their anger internally on one another and not at Florence.”

“And tried-and-true Sienese to this day still hate the Medici, right?”

“That they do. Those bad feelings run deep. But there was a silver lining to all that. Siena is now one of the best-preserved medieval cities in the world. And that is mainly thanks to the economic stagnation that happened after its secession to Florence. Not a lot of development occurred. It just stayed the same. Bad for that time, but good for the tourists today.”

Stamm had briefed them before they left Rome. They were going to meet an old friend of his and Sienese resident whose family roots traced straight back to the time of Medici rule.

Camilla Baines.

She was connected to at least three of Siena’s oldest families, the Chigi, Borghese, and Sozzini. Particularly to the Sozzini, who were noted as bankers, merchants, jurists, and scholars. Some even called them the most famous legal dynasty of the Italian Renaissance, once receiving a confirmation of nobility from the Holy Roman emperor. A long time ago Sozzini served as members of the Grand Council, as diplomats, judges, and other officials. In this patriarchal family, the male line of heirs died out before Italy was unified in 1861. But the family survived. Farming was now their main investment, and they owned huge swaths of Tuscan land. But over the past few decades they’d branched out into biotechnology. Several of their vaccine manufacturing facilities were located nearby.

“ A few years back ,” Stamm said, “ they cashed out, selling to GlaxoSmithKline for an enormous amount of money. Camilla brokered that deal. She is quite wealthy. A savvy businesswoman. ”

Good to know.

Stamm had also warned them that Siena would be hectic, as the Palio happened tomorrow. One of the world’s oldest, oddest, and most chaotic horse races. It officially started in 1310 when Siena’s General Council declared a race every year on August 16 in honor of the Virgin Mary, though versions of the race had existed long before that. Now there were two, another tomorrow on July 2. It had evolved into a spectacle that brought the Sienese to tears of joy and despair. Three times around the Piazzo del Campo in the center of town. About a thousand meters in less than eighty seconds. The prize? A pallium , a length of precious silk fabric with images upon it. Once those had been only of the Madonna. Now it could be anything. A work of art, stylistic, even modern. A contest each year determined which artist would create it. Once done the pallium became a sacred object, deeply coveted, paraded through the streets, blessed by the bishop, sought by every contrada in Siena as their reward for winning the Palio.

Half an hour ago a text had come from Stamm to Cotton’s phone informing them that Camilla Baines was not in Siena but outside of town, at a farm she owned. Stamm had provided directions and called ahead to make the necessary introductions, so she was expecting them.

Cotton left the main highway and turned south on one of the strade regionale . The narrow, paved road twisted a path up into the hills bordered by more ridged vineyards, orchards, and oak forests. Occasionally lines of olive trees made an attractive diagonal pattern against stripes of red plow. A bright sun trimmed the few thin clouds overhead in a pink border. They passed a road crew removing the remnants of a recent rockfall. Finally they came to a gated entrance where a dirt road led inside, past a fence, toward an array of low brick buildings. The pasture in between was fenced on either side. Horses strolled about, grazing on thick emerald grass.

After learning about Camilla Baines Cotton had done some homework, trying to get a better feel for both her and the lay of the land.

Siena was divided into eighteen urban wards known as contradas . Originally, they evolved from the times when the trades were all grouped together within their own defined space. Then they became districts that supplied troops to defend Siena. Both purposes faded away and the contradas lost their administrative and military functions, becoming more bastions of local patriotism, held together by tradition and the pride of their residents. Each had its own defined territory within the Sienese walls that came with an administrative center, museum, chapel, public square, and fountain. They also had their own songs, mottos, symbolic plant or animal, racing colors, and patron saints. The leaders were selected by vote and could be either male or female. They prided themselves in being classless. All members, contradaioli , were equal, whether rich or poor. They possessed their own government, constitution, and culture, like a mini city-state, headed by an elected priore . A capitano was also elected, who assumed operational command of the contrada each year during the few days of the Palio.

Contrada members paid dues, like a local tax, to offset expenses. Membership was determined by birth, blood, or choice. You could marry outside your contrada , but during the Palio those couples parted ways for a few days and generally celebrated with their own. There were four types of contrada relationships. Ally, friend, no relation, or enemy. Most contradas had a nemesis contrada that was their avowed opponent. Most also had open allies. Those extremes had a tendency to shift from one Palio to the next. Each was named after an animal, object, or symbol. Eagle, Caterpillar, Snail, Little Owl, Dragon, Giraffe, Crested Porcupine, Unicorn, She-Wolf, Seashell, Goose, Wave, Panther, Forest, Tortoise, Golden Oak, Tower, and Valley of the Ram.

Camilla Baines served as capitano for Golden Oak.

One of only two women to ever hold such a high post.

“It is a little odd,” Richter said. “The Palio is tomorrow and Golden Oak is in the race, which means Camilla Baines should be a busy woman.”

He understood. “Yet she made time to see us. That means one of two things. Either she’s extremely curious or she wants something.”

He drove through the gate.

The land on either side was clothed with more orchards, olive trees, and cypresses. The tires churned up dust in his rearview mirrors as he gunned the car along the dirt track.

“My vote,” Richter said, “is she wants something.”