The Bronze Crown. Stefano Vignaroli
Dagoberto Uberti! What does all this mean? You promised to judge my handmaiden, and to be merciful to her. Why, then, hand her over to the inquisitors? You heard my testimony some time ago. Mira defended herself. My uncle was attacking her. He may have killed her. She only wounded him, and not in a serious way. The fact that he fell from the balcony was an accident, a fatality, beyond the girl’s control. I have told you again and again: Mira deserves punishment, but not death!»
Judge Uberti, compared to some years ago, at the time of the trial against Andrea Franciolini, had visibly aged. Deep wrinkles furrowed his face, his back had bent and, to walk, he had to help himself with a walnut wood stick. A serious form of arthrosis, testified by the deformity of the joints of his hands, afflicted him. His eyesight had also dropped considerably and he had to help himself to read with a glass lens mounted on a metal support. At that time there were few, in fact, those who owned glasses, which had to come from Venice and were very expensive. He lifted his head from the cards and answered Lucia in a calm, almost resigned voice.
«You see, my Lady, I have studied the case well, and it seems to me that there are many, too many inconsistencies. You are the only witness, so I should trust what you tell me. Unfortunately, the same facts, told by you and told by Mira, are in stark contrast. You claim your uncle caught your handmaiden stealing from his study. But apart from the books, there was little there to steal. And notoriously, Mira can’t even read. Besides, I am well aware that your uncle kept money and valuables in other rooms. I believe instead that Mira entered the Cardinal’s study on purpose, hoping that, by offering him her body, she would be well rewarded.»
«What are you insinuating, Judge?»
«I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just trying to reconstruct how things went, and I think I’ve got the picture straight. You see, we had your uncle’s body examined by experts before we recomposed it for burial. Apart from the fact that he wasn’t wearing stockings, the Cardinal had the member completely covered in an oily substance, an ointment. According to experts, it was a substance based on plant essences, which only witches know how to prepare. But let us come to your uncle’s blood. You say Mira wounded him lightly with a knife, or rather, a letter opener. But there was an abundance of blood, scattered all over the study, and then around the corpse, so much so that it seems that the Cardinal, rather than the fall, bled to death. Only one wound, but it reached an important blood vessel. And what’s strange is that Mira should have been much dirtier in blood than we found. Her clothes were dirty, but if she struck so precisely, she must have had blood on her hands and arms. But she hadn’t! And the clothes? They weren’t exactly the clothes of a handmaiden, they were clothes of more important features.»
«And what did you deduce from all this?» asked Lucia, with a voice that almost began to tremble, for fear that Uberti was about to tell the story that blamed her for the death of her uncle.
«You see», and the Judge put his hand over the Malleus Maleficarum. «This book, provided to me by Father Ignazio Amici, enlightened me. Written by two German inquisitors, Jacob Sprenger and Heinrich Insitor Kramer, a few decades ago, it shows how to recognize witches, regardless of their powers. They can all be recognized by an indelible mark they wear on their skin, a mole, a spot, a birthmark or a scar, often hidden by armpit hair, pubic hair, or perhaps hair. This is why the Inquisitors, as a first step, have the witch denuded and have all her hair shaved in order to highlight this mark. But Mira didn’t even need to do that. She has an obvious mole on her upper lip, right under her nose, above which hair even grows. Father Ignazio affirms that it’s an unequivocal sign, and I agree with him, after reading this text.»
«What does all this have to do with my uncle’s death?»
«It has more to do with it than you, even as a witness, can imagine. The fact that Mira is a witch is confirmed not only by the mole, but also by the clothes she was wearing that day. The usual experts we have consulted have confirmed that those are clothes worn by the most powerful witches, clothes handed down from generation to generation, from mother to daughter. And so we come to the reconstruction of the facts, as it is now clear that they have actually happened. Mira, strengthened by her powers, enters the Cardinal’s studio with the clear intention of seducing him and bewitching him. The aim is to obtain money, a lot of money, in exchange for the amorous performance. The Cardinal falls there, lets himself be seduced, takes off his stockings and prepares to lie with your handmaid. But she wants to increase even more the satisfaction of her victim’s senses, and uses the ointment, to induce him to greater pleasure, and consequently to a greater gift of money. Only that ointment, in the right doses, increases the pleasure of the body, but in excessive doses causes hallucinations and visions. No, Mira doesn’t want to kill the Cardinal, that’s the least of her intentions: you don’t kill the hen that produces the golden eggs. But the situation has got out of hand. Who held the knife first? Perhaps the Cardinal in prey to obnubilation, perhaps to pretend to threaten the girl in a crescendo of erotic game. And he also uses it to cut off her clothes in order to strip her naked. And then the witch, feeling too much at risk, appeals to her powers. She doesn’t touch the knife, but guides it with the magical power of her dark powers. Only with the power of her thought does she throw it against the Baldeschi’s shoulder, in a very specific place. One wound, but fatal.»
«And then what?»
«And then, the final touch. She opens the window and plunges the Cardinal off the balcony, even leading him to believe he could fly. And then, how do you judge this woman? What punishment does she deserve? It was not, as you say, mere defence. Though at first it was not her will, she killed, and did so with good reason. What’s more, through the use of powers not common to all, but specific to women we call witches. WITCHES! Death is the well-deserved end for a killer like her. Beheading. But if she is a witch, we all know that the end she deserves is another.»
«No!» exclaimed Lucia, who felt her heart beat fast in her chest at the thought of seeing Mira dying beyond a wall of flame.
At that very moment, a louder cry from the torture chamber reached her ears.
«That’s enough, Judge! Take me immediately to the room where they are torturing the poor woman. This horror must end at once!»
«I don’t recommend it, it’s not a pretty sight to witness. Father Ignazio and his torturers will not be intimidated by the words of a maiden, no matter how noble...»
«That’s an order. Take me to the torture chamber!»
The Judge, sensing that the young girl knew what she was doing and that she could avail herself of the powers that were rightfully her’s, to be the descendant of Cardinal Baldeschi, as well as the betrothed of the one who should have been officially designated Captain of the People, lowered her head and obeyed Lucia. He led the young woman down the stairs and semi-obscure corridors, reaching a mighty door, in front of which two energetic men armed with spears barred the way to anyone. Mira’s cries were now very close by. When the judge beckoned, the two thugs stood to the side and opened the door. Lucia felt as if she had gone to hell. Her handmaiden Mira had been tied up on a table, completely naked, with her arms and legs spread apart to form the design of a St. Andrea’s cross. Her pubic and armpit hairs had been shaved and now, while one of the torturers was pulling the chains tied to the girl’s wrists and ankles, stretching the joints of her legs and arms almost to the point of dislocating them, another, with large scissors, was cutting her hair, throwing it into a burning brazier. In the same brazier, which gave off a pestilential smoke, several torture devices had been put in order to make them red-hot. Lucia, although she was crying both because of the smoke and the spectacle she had suddenly found herself witnessing, noticed Father Ignazio Amici taking a large pincer from the brazier and bringing the incandescent branches of the latter closer to one of Mira’s breasts. If she hadn’t stopped him in time, he would have grabbed her nipple with pliers, going so far as to pull it off.
«Pervert of a priest you are. Stop it. What are you doing?» And she grabbed his arm, holding the heavy pliers.
The Dominican turned and, with a sadistic smile on his face, recognized the young Lucia Baldeschi.
«Oh, my lady. Have you come to witness your handmaiden’s confession? Welcome! We’re almost