The Botticelli Secret - By Marina Fiorato Page 0,187

even length like the Maltese design,” put in Brother Guido.

“Precisely. Or the Genoese design, for it rides upon our flag. And so I must ask you again. Where did you get this rotogravure?”

Briefly, not believing it myself, I told him: of the storm, the basilica, and the Zephyrus horse. He merely nodded once or twice, not questioning at all. I could see Brother Guido trying to read his look, and the twin expression upon Signor Bartolomeo’s face.

“What is it? What is amiss?”

The two brothers looked at each other. “It’s just that,” began Signor Bartolomeo, “this landmass here is the peninsula known as Italia.”

That word again.

“We thought so,” admitted Brother Guido. “And the cross denotes Monaco? For it is at the extreme northwest of the land-mass. It is so, surely? The point of attack is Monaco, the gateway to France?”

Signor Cristoforo shook his head. “No, friend. It is certain. The city is denoted not just by the latitude and positioning but also by the emblem of the city itself. The site of attack, if there is to be one, is Genoa.”

45

We sat, four not two this time, all seated on faldstools around the Primavera, rolled out on the printing table. For it was time to share the most incredible aspect of the puzzle with them—that the strategy of the Seven was hidden in a painting. The brothers leaned in as we had been used to do for these many months, and scanned the cartone with their mapmaker’s eyes, plucking fresh details from the design like cormorants plucking fish from the brine.

“So all these are cities, these figures and deities.” Signor Cristoforo’s voice was full of wonder.

“Yes,” confirmed Brother Guido, pointing to each in turn. “Pisa, Naples, Rome, Florence, Venice, Bolzano, and Milan. We have been to every city, either by accident or design, in the last twelvemonth. And every duke, king, archduke, and the prince of the church himself we know to be determinedly guilty.”

“And this is clearly Genoa,” put in Signor Bartolomeo, “for it is our own Simonetta, God rest her soul.”

“Yes.”

“Are we saying, then, that the Seven are planning to attack the eighth figure, Genoa? That Genoa is not in the Seven, but their victim and target? That your doge is not in league with the rest?”

“I can more readily believe that than believe that the doge would join Pisa and Venice in anything. Begging your pardon, lord and lady, he would rather have his wife couple with a cur than join in any enterprise with his sworn rivals and enemies,” asserted Signor Cristoforo.

I remembered then what Brother Guido had told me as we entered the gates, why he addressed the guards in a Milanese accent, anxious that we should not reveal his Pisan tones, nor my Venetian origins, to anyone.

“But, why?” I asked. “Why Genoa?”

“The answer lies in what my brother just said,” answered Signor Bartolomeo. “Genoa must have refused any part in Loren-zo’s plan for unification, for what could it avail them? If the Hapsburgs have a trading treaty with Venice, Genoa—on the eastern seaboard—would dwindle from being la Superba (‘the Proud’ as we call her) to a mere outpost; descend from being a maritime state with full independence, to a fishing village.”

“And if Genoa would not ally with the Seven,” his brother said, taking up the argument, “then the union would not be safe. For Genoa is the back door to France, Portugal, Spain, and England too. These great nations would frown upon the peninsula joining together, for such a state would be an immensely strong force set right in the middle of Europe. We would have a stranglehold upon all trading routes through the Mare Mediterraneo, and the Mare Atlantico too.”

I was getting a little lost. Brother Guido joined in to clarify the discussion but, as usual, muddied it with words as long as baitworms. “You see, internecine wars and civil strife keep ‘Italia’ at peace with the rest of the world.” He collected my look. “We are too busy fighting each other to fight anyone else.”

“Ohhhh.” I nodded.

“The Italian wars, and centuries of struggle between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, kept the rest of Europe safe from greedy eyes,” added Signor Cristoforo.

“While at the same time our many states were open to treaties with other powers, in order to strengthen their relative positions on the peninsula—Genoa with France, Milan with the Bourbons, Venice with the Hapsburgs, the Papal States with England,” continued his brother, his ugly face lively with intelligence. “But a unified Italy could