The Botticelli Secret - By Marina Fiorato Page 0,39

as if beating out a measure. This digit was adorned with a golden thumb ring, decorated with nine golden balls, and the ring sounded in my head like a bell. I was ready to scream when at last he spoke, and when he did, it was to say something entirely unexpected.

“It is indeed beautiful. They said it would be.” And then, hurriedly, “I have heard of Signor Botticelli’s work but have never yet seen an example. And you stole it, signorina? Right from under the fellow’s nose?”

I hung my head, but the lord smiled.

“I cannot censure you, having seen it. Anyone would want such a thing.”

“Others do want it,” Brother Guido interjected grimly. “We were pursued through Florence and are perhaps hounded even now. Both of our closest friends have died in our stead, and one of Luciana’s . . . clients”—he choked over the word—“in pursuit of this painting.”

Now Lord Silvio’s brow furrowed. “But they have the original. Signor Botticelli has his painting; this is just the cartone, surely?”

Brother Guido nodded, his shadow nodding agreement in the candlelight. “Yes. But what we fear, Uncle, is that they do not merely desire the return of the cartone. We believe that the painting contains a message, and they think we know what it is, and they wish to eliminate our very beings, for fear of our knowledge.”

“It looks like an allegory of some sort, certainly,” agreed his uncle. “Perhaps . . . it puts one in mind of the Stanze of Poliziano . . .”

Madonna. Not him too.

“So I thought also,” put in Brother Guido eagerly, “but there seems to be a deeper, political meaning. Signor Botticelli was moved to great anger when Luciana joined the names of Pisa, Naples, and Genoa in her discourse.”

“Pisa, Naples, and Genoa?” The lord turned his eyes on me, not lustful now but thoughtful. “These are all great maritime states.”

“Exactly. And we believe that it is these great cities, not goddesses of allegory, that are represented by the three Graces here.”

Lord Silvio peered closer. “And which figure is Pisa in this theorem of yours?”

Brother Guido pointed. “Here, above the figure of the central Grace, the joined hands of the Graces describe exactly the edifice of our leaning tower.”

Lord Silvio shrugged. “An interesting coincidence surely, but no more.”

“And furthermore, this blinded figure of Cupid points his arrow exactly at her head. Here is where the quest is supposed to start.”

Now Lord Silvio studied his nephew. “Quest?”

“Yes. Into the meaning of the painting. Three of the figures are cities. What do the remainder represent? We have stumbled on a secret, zio, and someone does not want us to know what it is.”

Now for something really odd. Lord Silvio burst into a volley of false laughter, so loud that it rang around the walls of the library tower. But a heartbeat before he had given way to mirth, I had seen another emotion in his eyes.

Fear, naked fear.

We waited for his hilarity to pass, and when it had died he clapped us both on the shoulder as if we were drinking companions. “Nonsense,” he said, still smiling broadly. “There is no secret here. These are the three dancing Graces of classical mythology, and no more. You must let this matter drop and return to your lives. I have a much better solution for you than chasing hither and yon, trying to get to the center of a labyrinth of your own making. Why not simply return it?”

Brother Guido sighed with exasperation. I could tell he was disappointed, that he had expected to find an ally in his uncle. He had not expected our great breakthrough to be dismissed out of hand. “Those that seek us would find us in a heartbeat if we return to Florence. And even if they did not, the commune would try Signorina Vetra, and she would lose her nose; perhaps her hands too.”

I swallowed at the thought of the brutality that could be meted out by the state. I had been so concerned with the unlawful assassins that pursued us, I had never stopped to think what the recourse of the law would be. But Brother Guido had known and had tried to protect me. Madonna. I would never work again without my nose or my pleasure-giving hands.

Lord Silvio nodded, and then a sudden notion lit his face. “There I can help you, both of you. There is one man of Florence, that if you gained his pardon and protection, no man would