peacocks and swans, with orange juice and rosewater, in order to make them more appetizing. The beef fillets, once boiled, were completely sprinkled with spices and sugar. Particular attention was paid to the side dishes, vegetables of all types and colours, which more than to be eaten, were used to cheer the eyes of diners and stimulate the appetite. In the soup tureens they showed off soups of various colours. The soups, which were usually served as desserts, had a sweet taste and were seasoned with sugar, saffron, pomegranate seeds and aromatic herbs. The real broth, prepared by boiling a mixture of meat, vegetables and spices in water, was used as a first course, especially in the countryside and in the castles of the peasant nobility. The broth was drunk while the meat, removed from the broth, was eaten separately and served with aromatic herbs. The Cardinal had ordered the cooks not to serve it, while he had instead cooked a novelty, originally from the court of Charles VIII, macaroni, obtained from wheat semolina shaped into vermicelli and seasoned in sauces made with olive oil, butter and cream. The desserts, apple and sponge cake, and fruit, apples, quinces, chestnuts, nuts and berries were placed on two separate tables. The wines in the jugs were those typical of the county, Verdicchio and Malvasìa. Only two jugs contained a red wine, a precious gift given to the Cardinal by the Grand Duke of Portonovo a few years before. On the dessert table, instead, the wine was that of sour cherry, from the countryside of Morro d’Alba.
«The guests will begin to arrive in a moment», said the Cardinal, addressing Lucia, finally freeing her from the grip of his icy hand. The young woman had never been able to understand why her uncle’s hands were always so cold, almost as if blood did not flow under his skin. Not even prolonged contact with her much warmer hand had been able to increase the temperature of Artemio’s. «Let’s go get ready.»
So saying, he retired to his rooms to get dressed in pomp and circumstance, while two young servants approached his niece. They would take her to the toilet, to devote themselves to her, first giving her a perfumed bath, then dressing her, and finally making her wear a sumptuous green silk gown. While she let herself be cared for, Lucia thought back to Andrea Franciolini’s eyes. And already! In those days she had inquired, and the handsome horseman whose eyes she had met only for a moment was her betrothed. And she had fallen in love with his eyes, his face, his poise, it was as if there had always been an alchemical affinity with him. She already felt him part of herself, part of her own soul, her whole body vibrated with the thought that soon she could talk to him, get to know him better, stare into his eyes, that they would certainly hide nothing from her. She looked out the window of the room, but felt a strange sensation: the sky of that long day that was turning into sunset was leaden. A hood of sultriness, of humidity, was gripping the city, instilling in her heart the feeling that something bad was going to happen in the short term, and that this something would also affect her in the long term. But what? She couldn’t understand it, even with her powers of vision. Her uncle’s mind, as usual, had also been hermetically sealed that day, but when she looked into his eyes only one word kept ringing in her head: “Betrayal”. Why? She wanted to make her sphere materialize, to throw it high into the sky so that she could see for her, but she couldn’t do that right now, in front of witnesses. While the tall blonde servant girl finished lacing her dress behind her back, the one with the smallest build and darkest hair made her wear the jewels, necklaces and bracelets of gold and precious stones, of exquisite workmanship, made by the Cardinal especially for her by goldsmiths of the school of Lucagnolo. At that moment, Lucia felt a lack, she felt a twinge in her heart as if someone was piercing it with a dagger, or with a sword. She collapsed in her chair and lost consciousness for a few moments.
«My lady, my lady, how do you feel?» The black maid’s voice came muffled to her ears.
«It’s nothing, it’s just the heat, this cursed heat, and the emotion. I feel better now.»
Lucia hadn’t associated her feeling with what would happen soon afterwards to her beloved Andrea.
Executor of the barbaric aggression of that day was the soldier of Francesco Maria Della Rovere, Duke of Montefeltro and already banner holder of the Church. Since the new Pope, Leo X, had stripped him of his state, he had hired Spanish and Gascon soldiers as mercenaries and, after having plundered many castles devoted to the Pope, he headed towards Jesi, in order to conquer this papal stronghold, with the help of the Ancona’s people led by the Duke of Montacuto and thanks to the secret support of the highest ecclesiastical office of the city, Cardinal Baldeschi. As promised by the Cardinal, the soldier coming from the hills west of Jesi, found Porta St. Florian open, had easy reason of the guards of the Fortino, attacked by surprise, and was soon in Piazza del Mercato, just when the procession of the nobleman Franciolini, coming from Via delle Botteghe, arrived in the same square.
Franciolini and his men were not ready for battle, they were not wearing armour, they were going to a party and only had light weapons with them.
«Betrayal!» said Guglielmo, getting off his horse and facing a Spaniard armed with a short dagger. «Chain the streets, don’t let them go down into the valley, or they’ll open the gates to the army of Ancona, and we’ll be caught between two clamps.»
Only with the strength of his arms and his short dagger, he had already landed two Spaniards, leaving them in a pool of blood. Guglielmo was a skilful fighter, and he was quick to catch the enemy. As soon as he saw his opponent hesitant, he would stick the knife in his heart, then pull it out, clean the blade on his clothes and start fighting again. The enemy vanguards didn’t wear armour and it was easy to be right with them. But the enemies came out of Via del Fortino by the dozens, by the hundreds, like a flooded river whose banks could not hold back the water. A Spanish crossbowman took aim and pointed his weapon at Andrea, who was still proud on his horse. The young man had found himself in the middle of the battle at other times and had not given importance to the fact that at the moment he was not wearing armour, but a colourful brocade suit. He had his steed soaring to the fray when he was hit in the right thigh. Other arrows reached both horse and rider. Andrea fell to the ground, with at least four darts piercing him. His horse, hit in the chest, ruined his heavy body on top of him. He tried, without succeeding, to slip away from the mass of the heavy animal, but the forces were abandoning him. Guglielmo, aware of his son who had landed, turned towards him, distracting himself from the fight and turning his back dangerously on the enemy to come to his aid. He saw Andrea’s eyelids drooping, called out to him, but had no answer. He realized that his cadet was now unconscious, perhaps dying. Just at that moment a long blade pierced him, penetrating from behind his back, making its way between his ribs, cutting through his heart and coming out of his chest, accompanied by a powerful stream of blood. Guglielmo barred the eyes that, at the moment of the passage, were still staring at the brave and agonizing son.
Easily right of that small handful of men, Spaniards and Gascon spread through the streets of the city. Some went up Via delle Botteghe up to the Porta della Rocca, surprising the soldiers on guard, killing them and opening the door. Others went down to the valley to open Porta Valle and Porta Cicerchia and thus facilitate the entrance into the city of the Ancona army, which had been waiting for days for nothing more than that moment. Although taken by surprise, the inhabitants tried to organize a defence inside the town, spurred on by some nobles, in particular by Fiorano Santoni, who immediately gathered a squadron of people who, chained the streets as arranged by the People’s Capitan, prepared to fight the enemy in the streets, alleys and squares. But the latter, strengthened by the contribution of the Ancona’s people, was too numerous and the Jesi’s inhabitants, humbled by the cries and tears of women and children, abandoned the defence.
Above all, the mercenaries in the pay of Francesco Maria Della Rovere were thirsty for pillage and the inhabitants, considering that they had not been able to save their homeland, tried at least to save their property, but even in this they had no success: the rich gentlemen were taken prisoners and their women, who had tried to escape, with their jewels, in the churches, saw themselves reached by the Spaniards even inside the sacred places, where they did not disdain to strip them of what was precious on them and rape them. At a certain point, a woman, Eleonora Carotti, with a haughty and male bearing, managed to slap a Gascon who was placing his hands in her breast to take away the jewels he had hidden there and at the same time take advantage to grope her. She found herself between him and another group of Spanish soldiers. If the slapped Gascon had been astonished, without reacting, the