The Kingdom of Light by Giulio Leoni Read Free Book Online Page A

the
Centesimus
, the grand Jubilee. His friend, the artist Giotto, was about to leave too . ‘And that one?’ he whispered, pointing his index finger towards a massive man who, in spite of the infernal heat, sat wrapped in a white woollen cape. His face, with a distinctive aquiline nose, was marked by a long scar that ran from one eyebrow to his cheek. A blow that had only failed by a miracle to kill him.
    ‘Jacques Monerre, a Frenchman,’ hissed the innkeeper.
    ‘A Frenchman? And what brings him to these parts?’
    The innkeeper shrugged. ‘From Toulouse, he said. He’s come here from Venice. A
literatus
, like the old man at the end.’
    ‘Toulouse … but he’s come here from Venice,’ repeated the poet, pursing his lips. ‘And who’s the last one?’
    He pointed to the one who had first attracted his attention, an old man with long grey hair parted in the centre that flowed down his thin shoulders. The man was tall and dressed in the sober, dark clothes worn by scholars. His face, illuminated by eyes that shone with youthful light, seemed marked by a network of deep wrinkles. It looked as if he was in the grip of intense cold. His hands were also protected by dark leather gloves.
    ‘Messer Marcello,’ replied the little man in a mixture of obsequiousness and diffidence. ‘A most learned man, apparently. From the North. He’s going to Rome to fulfil a vow. Or at least that’s what he’s told his companions. One of my serving-girls overheard him.’
    Dante glanced once again at the group, then withdrew to avoid being seen. He didn’t want them to know they were being watched. ‘Close the door and make sure no one tries to get in. And if anyone does try, take note of it and tell me,’ he ordered the little man, before leaving the room again. Then he turned once more towards the Bargello. ‘Have the body taken away from here, to the hospital of Santa Maria. In secret, in so far as that’s possible in this city of gossips. And without giving any explanation of what’s happened.’
    ‘Explanation? We could do with some explanations ourselves,’ the chief of the guards replied sarcastically.
    ‘That’s true. We haven’t got a lead, but the wise man’s mind is happy to move through the torments of thought, where the mind of the vulgar man becomes lost and discouraged. And my mind … but all in good time.’
    ‘Do you want to question these men? Perhaps …’
    Dante shook his head. ‘If the murderer is one of them, he will have had time to erase every trace by now. And questioning him along with the others would only give him certain advantages. He would jumble his words up with everyone else’s, like a wolf among a pack. Better to let him think we know more than we really do. That way we’ll make him anxious and give him a false sense of security. And between that Scylla and Charybdis I will stretch my net.’
    He moved towards the stairs. On the steps he carefully straightened the folds of his habit and adjusted his biretta, carefully arranging the veil over his right shoulder. Then he started down, moving past the seated men, and made for the light beyond the door.
    He had to shield his eyes with his hand before he became accustomed to the glare outside.

3
    Morning of 8th August, at the priory
    ‘H ERE IS the information you requested about the guests at the inn,’ said the town clerk, showing Dante a sheet of paper. ‘It hasn’t been easy: I’ve asked all the chief guards at the city gates.’
    ‘Do you expect applause, Messer Duccio?’ snorted Dante, taking the sheet from his hands. On it there was a list of names, with a few words next to each. ‘Your labours don’t seem to have yielded much.’
    ‘Florence is a land of freedom. We don’t investigate travellers unless there’s a reason involving the security of the Commune,’ the other man replied, piqued.
    The poet shrugged, then immersed himself in reading. The report added little to what the innkeeper had already