Assignment Milan, page 1
Assignment Milan
A Nico Argenti Novel
Ken Tentarelli
Copyright © 2021 by Ken Tentarelli
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-7331773-7-5 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-7331773-8-2 (paperback)
This one is for my editor.
Contents
1. Palazzo Strozzi, Florence
2. Ticino River, Duchy of Milan
3. Bierposto Tavern, Milan
4. Agostino Mozzi’s office, Florence
5. Milan to Gaggiano
6. The Palazzo della Signoria, Florence
7. Palazzo Castellini, Florence
8. The commission office, Florence
9. The Uccello, Florence
10. Traveling to Milan
11. Florentine embassy, Milan
12. Judicial Chancery, Milan
13. Palazzo Torelli, Milan
14. Naviglio Canal, Gaggiano
15. Palazzo della Ragione, Milan
16. Dinner with the Contessa, Milan
17. District Guardia headquarters, Milan
18. Gaggiano
19. Pollo da Cielo restaurant, Milan
20. Avocino’s office, Milan
21. Gaggiano
22. Return to Milan
23. Privy Council Chancery, Milan
24. At Bierposto in Milan
25. Milan
26. Privy Council Secretary, Milan
27. Monza
28. The Privy Council Tribunal, Milan
29. Roman ruins, Milan
30. Dinner with the contessa, Milan
31. Monza
32. Medici Bank, Milan
33. The Ticenese district, Milan
34. Bierposto, Milan
35. Monza
36. The Judicial Chancery, Milan
37. Ducal Engineer’s office, Milan
38. Near the Medici bank, Milan
39. Basilica Sant’Ambrogio, Milan
40. Days later in Florence
41. The tannery district, Florence
42. Trial preparation and day 1
43. Trial day 2
44. Trial defense
45. Verdict
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Ken Tentarelli
1
Palazzo Strozzi, Florence
September 1464
Agostino Mozzi, First Chair of The Ten of War, arrived early for the meeting, the one that he had convened. As the bell at nearby San Tommaso church tolled the hour, the door to the grand salon at Palazzo Strozzi swung open and Mozzi’s invitees entered: Scala the Chancellor and Corsini the First Chair of The Eight of Guard, the agency responsible for the Guardia and the safety of Florentine citizens.
“These are indeed elegant surroundings,” Corsini observed. Looking toward Mozzi, he added, “Certainly superior to your office, Agostino. It must be an urgent matter that brings us here.”
Meetings organized by Mozzi were always efficient and without distraction. As soon as the three men were seated, he wasted no time stating its purpose. Looking to Corsini, he said, “You are correct. There is an important matter that needs our attention. As you know, the Chancery collects and analyzes dispatches from our embassies. Recently the Chancery received a disturbing account from our representatives in Milan.” He turned his head to face Scala. “Bartolomeo, please tell us about the latest report.”
Scala forward and rested his hands on the table. “Two of our embassy staffers in Milan were taking dinner at a restaurant when they overheard a conversation among the duke’s advisors and his trade minister. The minister was expounding on a trade negotiation underway that would give the Duchy of Milan overwhelming advantages over Florence. When our staffers heard Florence mentioned they took notice. At first, they thought the claims were idle boasting, but the words took on a threatening tone as the discussion continued. Although our embassy workers heard only fragments of the conversation, they believed it was important, so they entered it in their latest report.”
“Prior to 1460, Milan depended on Florence to fund its businesses and its huge army,” Mozzi said. “But in the past five years the duchy has grown. Once it was an infant; now it is like a growing child ready to flex his muscles.”
Corsini stiffened. With alarm in his voice, he interrupted, “Milan cannot be allowed to make unilateral trade agreements. Maritime treaties govern the international shipment of goods, and Milan is a signatory of those treaties that protect the rights of ships carrying goods to the seaports of all Italian states. My brother’s woolen mills depend on fleece imported from England. Milan cannot be allowed to violate the treaties.” Corsini’s face reddened and his voice rose as he became increasingly agitated. “What if they levy exorbitant tariffs on products delivered to Florentine merchants?”
The others waited until Corsini ended his rant and slumped down in his seat; then, in a calm voice, Scala cited a broader concern. “Nearly half of our people work in the woolen trade. If Milan were to disrupt that industry, they would ruin our entire economy.” He slapped a hand down onto the table. “Milan would not have dared to turn against us when Cosimo de Medici was alive, but now they are becoming brazen. We need to know what is happening in Milan and we need to know it now.”
Mozzi leaned back in his chair.“We can’t be certain the minister was referring to the wool trade. Milan maintains the best armorers on the Italian peninsula to supply its army with swords and mail. Perhaps the minister was referring to shipments of weapons. There have been other worrisome reports as well. What concerns me most is that we have no means to investigate the reports and remedy any potential threats. That is why I called this meeting. It’s time for us to act to protect the security of our republic.”
Antonio Corsini asked tentatively, “What do you propose, that we establish a network of spies?”
“Perhaps subterfuge will become necessary,” Mozzi replied, “but I suggest we begin with diplomacy. Although we are already rich with commissions, I propose that a special commission be formed to investigate and resolve possible threats to our republic, and that it be directed to take immediate action.”
The room fell silent as the men considered Mozzi’s suggestion and waited for him to detail a plan derived from his experience dealing with foreign states. Before rising to his position as chief administrator of the Florentine military, Mozzi had served as an envoy to Genoa, a Florentine representative to the peace negotiations at Lodi, and the person responsible for security during the Holy Father’s visit to Florence.
“My recommendation is to form a Florentine Security Commission composed initially of three members: an investigator skilled in gathering information, a lawyer to seek legal recourse when the evidence warrants, and someone to assess whether adversaries are contemplating military action.”
Mozzi looked from one man to another. He judged their expressions as acceptance of his proposal, so he continued. “Antonio, as First Chair of the Eight, you oversee the Guardia, so you should be the one to designate an investigator. The Guardia regularly investigates crimes, so it must have many skilled investigators who could serve our purpose.”
Corsini thought for only a moment before responding, “Yes, I can find someone to serve on the commission.”
Next, Mozzi turned to Scala, “Chancellor, with your administrative and legal background, you are in the best position to name someone, a lawyer, to deal with legal issues.”
Scala hesitated before nodding his agreement. While he willingly accepted the charge, he also recognized the complexity of the matter. Scala’s reaction gave Mozzi pause because he too appreciated that finding members for a commission with a yet-to-be-defined purpose was problematic. Nonetheless, he continued, “As a member of the Ten of War, I will search out a military representative.” Again, looking to Scala, he said, “To be effective, the commission must operate with the full authority of the Florentine government; therefore, we must bring our proposal to the Signoria since they alone can establish official commissions. As a participant in their meetings, can you bring forth our request that they authorize the formation of a Florentine Security Commission?”
Scala replied, “Yes, I can do that.” Scala remained seated as the others rose to leave. His expression showed him to be deep in thought. Mozzi moved to where Scala was sitting and asked, “Are you troubled by my proposal, Bartolomeo?”
“Not at all. I fully agree that action is warranted, and your proposal of a three-man commission seems appropriate. I was pondering who might be the best lawyer to join the commission. I imagine the commissioners will find themselves in different jurisdictions. Perhaps one matter might take them to Milan, and another might have them in Rome.”
“Yes, that could be,” Mozzi agreed.
“So, ideally, the lawyer appointed to the commission should be familiar with the laws of all jurisdictions. If he were sent to Rome, he would be subject to the laws of the Papal States, and in Milan or Mantua he would need to operate within the laws of those duch
Mozzi pulled out a chair and sat beside Scala to listen as the Chancellor reasoned through the complexities. “It is not common for Florentine lawyers to practice outside the republic,” Scala continued. “They are versed in our laws, but most have little knowledge of laws and procedures in other states. Very few have represented Florentine clients in foreign tribunals.”
Mozzi laughed. “The few who have made their reputations practicing internationally are too wealthy, too old, and too fat for our purpose. I agree, the commission must have a lawyer who knows laws beyond those of our republic. He must understand and appreciate the sensibilities of other states. That may call for a young person with a flexible mind.”
Scala sat up straight and brightened. “Nico Argenti.”
“Argenti?” Mozzi repeated. “I have not heard that name.”
“Did you hear of the village in the Papal States whose sovereignty was threatened by the Lord of Rimini?”
Mozzi spoke slowly as he reflected. “I recall the incident, but not the name Argenti.”
“A Florentine relative of one of the villagers called upon Argenti for legal advice. He agreed to help and sought relief on behalf of the village in a Papal States tribunal. Argenti only recently graduated from the law school at Bologna, and he is still awaiting induction into the guild, so he cannot yet practice law, not even here in Florence. Despite that, he took an approach consistent with the laws of the Papal States; then he enlisted a lawyer accredited by the Vatican to prosecute the case.”
“Impressive determination and initiative. Do you have personal knowledge of him?” Mozzi asked.
“I have known of him for many years. When he was a youth of about nine years, I attended a lecture that his father gave at the University of Florence. I spoke with Nico after the lecture and was impressed by his curiosity. Years later, I followed his progress when he attended the law school at Bologna. He consistently received high praise from his professors. I have no doubt that he will be a fine lawyer; what gives me pause is that he lacks experience.”
Mozzi smiled and replied, “None of us were born with experience. When he first answered the call, even our beloved Pope Pius was an inexperienced novitiate.”
“Ah, but His Holiness received guidance from the Holy Spirit.”
Mozzi placed a hand on Scala’s shoulder and laughed. “Unless Argenti has a connection to the Holy Spirit that is unknown to us, he will be looking to you, my friend, for guidance.”
Mozzi’s remark caused Scala to smile, but it did not remove his uncertainty.
2
Ticino River, Duchy of Milan
“It’s coming. I can see it now.” Tonio squinted to identify a horse and wagon through the swirling fog as the barge approached the wharf.
“I can’t see a damned thing,” Bruno protested. “I need to get closer.”
“If we get closer, people on the wharf will see us. Here we’re hidden by the trees. Just wait. If it’s him, he’ll have to come this way.”
The barge, heavily laden with hewn timber as well as the horse and wagon, drifted slowly to the riverbank. A young deckhand jumped from the barge with the mooring line in hand. Unbalanced by the weight of the rope, he landed awkwardly on the wharf. His leather shoes slipped on wet slime and sent him skidding across the wooden decking. A worker who was waiting for the incoming craft grabbed the youngster by the collar only a moment before he slid into the cold, churning water. With the worker’s help, the flustered deckhand stood and cautiously tested his footing. He moved warily to the edge of the deck and fastened the mooring line to a cleat. He then secured another line thrown to him from the barge to a second cleat.
“Can you see the horse? Is it the right one?” Bruno pressed.
“A black mare with a white diamond-shaped patch on its right flank. Yes, that’s the one. The farmer is climbing onto the wagon seat; they’ll be coming this way soon,” Tonio replied.
“He broke the guild’s rules. Now he will suffer,” Bruno said aloud anticipating the punishment he would soon deliver.
Bruno stayed hidden in the shadow of the trees while Tonio moved to the side of the road and watched the wagon approach. Workers unloading timber from the barge were too busy to notice him standing in the road. There would be no witnesses. When the horse reached Tonio’s position, he stepped into the road, grabbed the animal’s bridle and yanked it hard, forcing the horse to stop.
The farmer managed only one word, “What?” before Bruno leaped from his hiding place, jumped up onto the wagon, and slammed his fist into the side of the farmer’s head. Bruno grinned broadly, pleased that his single blow had rendered the farmer unconscious. He pushed the inert body aside and took hold of the reins. As soon as Tonio climbed into the wagon bed, Bruno loosened the reins and coaxed the horse forward.
The two thugs paired as night and day. Nothing pleased iron-fisted Bruno more than dispensing punishment and pain. Although his pleasure came with a price: the missing teeth, diminished hearing, and blurry vision that he sustained from blows inflicted by adversaries. Wiry Tonio was the thinker. He had determined how to identify the target and where to seize the wagon without being seen. It was his scrupulous planning that invariably kept the outlaws out of prison.
In a quarter mile they turned from the main road, the one that would have taken the farmer to Milan, onto a narrow dirt path that curved around to parallel the river. In a short distance, a clearing in the thick woodland opened out to the river. Previously, Bruno and Tonio had tied their horses to a bush in the clearing. Bruno turned the wagon into the clearing, then Tonio jumped from the wagon and guided the horse until the rear of the wagon was at the river’s edge.
Bruno slapped the farmer and growled, “Wake up, stronzo.” When the farmer only shifted slightly and groaned, Bruno laughed heartily. “Maybe I shouldn’t have hit the bastard so hard.” Bruno turned in his seat to view the wagon bed. “What is he carrying back there?”
“Some kind of melons,” Tonio replied.
Bruno climbed down and walked to the rear of the wagon. He lifted one melon into the air and smashed it to the ground where it shattered, scattering chunks of pulp around his feet. He bent to pick up a small wedge and bit into the orange flesh. “It was a melon,” he laughed. With the sleeve of his tunic, he wiped the juice dripping from his chin. Then he reached into the wagon for a second orb, lofted it high in the air, and watched it splash down in the river and drift away in the speedy current. “Help me with these,” Bruno called. Tonio joined him and the two men worked together emptying the remaining melons into the river. As the last melon floated away, Tonio noticed the farmer had regained consciousness and was sitting, slumped forward and rubbing his head.
The two thugs climbed onto the wagon seat, one man on each side of the farmer who looked with a puzzled expression from one man to the other. “What do you want of me?” he murmured. “I’m just a poor farmer. I have nothing.”
Bruno responded, “You broke the rules. You should not be here.”
The farmer shrunk away from Bruno’s foul breath. “Rules? What rules?”
“Many years past, merchants battled one another. They destroyed each other’s shipments. Some were killed. To stop the fighting, the guild made rules. One rule says merchants cannot cross the river to sell goods without permission,” Tonio explained. “Now, you and others like you are again coming to the markets in Milan. That is not allowed.”
