The Body in the Piazza - By Katherine Hall Page Page 0,70

for sure. One of the things you may have time to explore are the underground tunnels, some of which connect to grottoes that were Etruscan tombs. The tunnels once were a network among the palazzos and other buildings. Now they are for the wine, and also in some, you’ll see cheeses aging.

“We’ll go into town by way of the Porta al Prato near where we parked and where we’ll meet later. Here you will see the first sign of the Medicis—their crest cut into the stone. You always know the Medici one. It has a varying number of balls—seven during Cosimo’s time. When painted, they are red on gold, and I leave it to you to decide what they mean. There are theories about what they represent ranging from dents in a shield to pawnbroker’s coins and also the name itself, ‘Medici,’ which translates as ‘doctors,’ their ancient profession. The balls in that case are thought to be cupping glasses. You know them?”

“They were used both in the United States and England, too, and even now as an alternative medical treatment,” Hattie Culver said. “Although I think they are famous for doing more harm than good, burning the patients or causing them to bleed to death.” She shuddered.

“There are also some ruder interpretations of the Medici balls,” Luke interjected. “But I think that you should skip that part, Gianni.”

Everyone laughed and Gianni continued with a quick rundown of Montepulciano’s greatest hits, urging them not to miss the interior of the duomo with its beautiful triptych by Bartolo and the famous well, so often photographed opposite the cathedral on the Piazza Grande with again the Medici arms flanked by Florentine lions and Poliziano griffins, symbol of the famous philosopher and tutor to the Medici children. Faith thought it was rather lovely that there should have been a tribute to a teacher, the equivalent of an edifice on Aleford’s green honoring someone like Mrs. Fine, a longtime middle school teacher, adored by students, parents, and colleagues alike.

It was so pleasant in the garden that everyone moved slowly, putting some of the food away and then sitting back down to eat one more fig or munch one more biscotti. Faith looked at the bucolic scene. It could have been from any number of Italian films—a rustic feast—and like those films there was much going on beneath the jovial surface. Who was trying to destroy the Rossis’ business—since what else could be behind an act like this morning’s serpi? Someone here, or someone creeping in from the village or elsewhere? In Florence there had been commedia dell’arte masked street performers, and for an instant she pictured the people in front of her hiding behind those intricately sculpted disguises. Masks. Jack was concealing something, so was Sky. The Russos most likely their own misery. Olivia? Many possibilities. Luke as well. The Nashes? The only couple that seemed to be exactly what they were was the aunt/niece one. Except there was that odd remark she’d overheard in Rome . . . Faith’s head was spinning, and she moved over closer to Tom. Here was certainty. Usually.

The Rossis handed out maps and told the group the time to meet for the tasting.

“You will get a good workout,” Francesca said. “The streets are steep, also narrow. Do not miss the view from the Piazza San Francesco. It is my favorite—and not just for the name. There are also many places to buy ceramics. I know you were interested in this, Faith. They will ship, as will other shops. Montepulciano has been an artistic center during its whole history.” She started to laugh. “It is also known for the Bravio delle Botti. Again you will all have to come back to see this. You know about the Palio in Siena, but here the contrade—the sections of the town, the neighborhoods, I think you might say—do not race horses, although the tradition started this way back in the fourteenth century. In the twentieth it changed to botti, the big wooden wine barrels as a way to celebrate—and publicize—the wine! Anyway, two men on each team roll a botte about a kilometer uphill along the streets leading to the duomo. They train hard for this. The competition is held on the last Sunday in August, but the celebrations go for the whole week before. There are postcards and souvenir books that show it better than I am describing it—all the costumes and each contrada’s banners.”

“I’m beginning to think we should just

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