Amato, having finished crying into Salviero's soggy shoulder, gently set his brother's corpse on the ground. "Angelino," he said, "Why? Who killed him?" Angelino said, "We don't know who, but I think it was a robbery. His purse was empty." Amato looked down and placed a hand on the hilt of his rapier. "Whoever did this will hang. I swear it." Angelino motioned for Amato to sit at the seaside with him, and so he did.
"Cousin," began Angelino, "You cannot rush headlong into a revenge plot. This is not a play, it is not some silly romance book. This is real life. You cannot go out of your way to track down a mugger. That is the job of the guardsmen." Amato said, "Plot? Angelino, this is not a plot. This is justice." Amato looked down at the sea beneath his feet. "Angelino, I feel... like a part of me died with Salviero. A part of me that I'll never get back. He was my brother. My friend." Amato paused. "I know that it's not my duty... that I might get killed doing this... but I have no other choice. I'd rather die than let Salviero's killer go unpunished."
Amato looked back at the waxy, pale complexion of his brother. "Angelino, please, go to Father Emidio, with Salviero. Tell him to prepare for a funeral." Angelino nodded. Amato put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell him to pull out all the stops. I will pay for it from my own pocket if need be." Amato stood up. "I'm... I'm going to ask around a little bit, about what exactly Salviero was doing last night."
Amato stepped into the Palazzo del Principe's main hall. The sparse but warm candle-light mingled with the bright light from the great corridor's grand windows, illuminating every angle of the exquisitely carved marble arches and antique Roman statues that lined the wide, tall foyer. He thought about how the courier had come bearing the news, how his father had been in a meeting, how Amato rushed down the stairs faster than he thought he could move. Amato wondered what would have happened had he broken the news to his father personally.
It was not long before Amato spotted Tullio, Salviero's personal steward, crossing the hall, from what he suspected was the kitchens to his quarters. Amato approached Tullio with an air of friendliness about him.
"Tullio!"
"Signore Amato. I am sorry about Salviero. He was a friend to me, as well," said the steward, bowing.
"Tullio, I need to know, where did Salviero go last night? What was he doing?"
"To the local villa of Signore Lamberto Ragno di Venezia, I believe. Something about politics and business."
Amato put a hand on Tullio's shoulder. "Thank you, Tullio. Thank you." He rushed out the door. "W-wait! Signore Amato!" shouted Tullio, realizing what Amato was doing. "Do not do anything rash!"
Amato came to the front door of the home of Lamberto, but was stopped by two guards in elaborately decorated armor. "Hold! What business have you with the esteemed Lamberto Ragno?" "I am Amato Duraturo," said Amato. "I have come to investigate the death of my brother, Salviero, who came to this villa last night." "And how," said the guard, "do I know you speak the truth, 'Amato'?" In response, Amato casually flipped a ducat to the guard, who caught it and stared at it in disbelief. "I shall have the signore notified." The guard motioned to his companion, who ran off to fetch the merchant.
A minute or two later, a rather old man, with a long, curled, silver beard, clad in black robes embroidered in a floral pattern with gold thread, came through the door. "Signore Amato. My humblest apologies about your brother, mio amico. How can I help?"
What do you want to know?
Author
Topic: Una Citta di Bugie (SG) (Read 1334 times)