The belvedere

THE BELVEDERE
By Jay Holloway

The crash of the door shook the walls behind him as Zanetti strode out
into the harsh morning sunlight, into lively streets busy with
preparations for the carnival that evening. He pushed his way through
swarms of chattering smiling people, seeing none of them. Above him,
the almost finished belvedere of creamy sandstone cast a hard-edged
shadow over the arid city.
Zanetti's face was closed, his mouth tight-lipped.
Isabella still lay abed.
perhaps it was better that way. He had no stomach for a blazing row,
there were more urgent matters requiring his attention, not least of
them the Duke's bells.
But most of all he needed time to think, to form a plan, for now was
the time for action.
He looked to neither right or left as he strode along the busy street.
He had no wish to run into da Feltre just yet, otherwise his temper
might get the better of him. He had other, more interesting, plans to
hatch for the unscrupulous notary.
Paulo was mixing fresh loam when Zanetti arrived at the workshop.
"Morning Maestro."
"Morning Paulo. Finish that then clean out the moulds for the two alto
bells and prepare the tallow. We have a busy day ahead of us."
"Certainly Maestro. Will I be able to get away for the carnival?"
"Ha, the lovely Anna expects you this evening?"
"Yes, she wants to see the procession, she has talked of nothing else
all week."
Zanetti clapped his young apprentice on the shoulder.
"I'll see what I can do Paulo, you've worked hard on the Duke's
contract, you deserve a night out."
"Thank you Maestro."
About to move away, Zanetti paused and laid a hand on Paulo's
arm.
"Make the most of what you have Paulo. Life changes and happiness can
be too too brief."
"Yes Maestro. Er, thank you."
Paulo was puzzled. Zanetti was a good master, a fair man in a time of
rogues and despots, and this dark introspective mood sat ill on his
normally amiable open face.
"The tenor bell is ready for pouring Maestro, the furnace has been
stoked since first light."
"Good. Where are Rocco and Francesco?"
"They are at the back bringing in charcoal. Shall I call them?"
"Yes do that. We must begin at once. I want the tenor bell broken out
tomorrow morning."
Zanetti went through to his office to make up the week's bills, his
mind more occupied with the problem of da Feltre than of commerce. A
little later his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Duke's
envoy.
"Ah Cesare. Is this an official visit?"
"Not entirely, but the Duke likes to know how things are
progressing."
"Then you will have a glass of wine with me."
It was a statement rather than a question, and Zanetti was already
pouring the wine. He'd never known Cesare to refuse a glass.
"Thank you, but make it a quick one, I must be about the Duke's
never-ending business."
The Duke's envoy made a great show of always being under pressure of
hard work, but revelled in his self-importance. He accepted the beaker
of wine and took a deep draught.
"The Florentine was asking after you by the way. I think he wants to
see you today."
"Ah, my old friend. How was he Cesare?"
"Well enough I think."
"I'll finish this wine and go to see him straight away. I could do with
some air. I just can't get to grips with these figures today."
"Hm, that doesn't sound like the razor-sharp Bell-master I know. You
look as though you're carrying the weight of the worlds ills on your
shoulders."
"Believe me Cesare, it feels that way."
"Anything I can do to help?"
Zanetti laughed shortly.
He was friendly enough with Cesare, but it was commonly known that the
Duke's envoy was a notorious gossip. Confiding in him was the quickest
way for the whole city to become privy to his affairs.
"Thank you , but no. This is something I have to work out for myself.
In the meantime you may assure your master that things are progressing
very satisfactorily at the bell-foundry. Everything is running to the
timetable."
Later that morning Zanetti left the foundry and strode through the
city, his brows still knotted.
Something would have to be done about da Feltre, something drastic, he
thought as he arrived at the studio.
"Ah Antonio, you got my message. I'm glad to see you."
His friend called down a greeting from the landing above as he climbed
the stairs.
Zanetti clasped his hand warmly.
"Leonardo, it's good to see you again."
Zanetti sat down and looked around the studio. at the litter of boxes,
cord and packing materials. Paintings, etchings and drawings stood
everywhere against the walls shrouded in sacking.
"Yes Antonio, I'm leaving Rome." replied the Florentine to the unspoken
question, "And by the look of you, you need a change of scene
too."
"Is it that obvious? It's true I have weighty matters on my mind, but
running away won't solve them for me. But why are you leaving?"
The Florentine sighed.
"Nothing is going right for me here Antonio. I had such high hopes when
I came to Rome. The Medici made me, but it seems they are quite capable
of ruining me too. I'm too long in the tooth for it all Antonio. I
don't need to prove anything to anyone anymore, so why should I
stay?"
"But do you have anywhere to go Leonardo?"
"The King of France has invited me to live and work there. It seems
that Francis is a keen supporter of my work, he's made me an offer I
cannot possibly refuse. I doubt that I shall return."
"I'll miss you Leonardo. You're the one sane man I know in a city of
madmen. The voice of reason in the wilderness."
The Florentine sighed.
"My problem in a nutshell Antonio. I feel I'm in a wilderness, despite
being in a city of thousands. At my time of life I should be where I'm
really appreciated. I have a reputation for God's sake. But what of you
my friend? What is it weighs on your spirits?"
Zanetti turned from the window where he had been moodily surveying the
street below.
"Da Feltre is my problem."
"Da Feltre? So. What has the slippery notary done to ruffle your
feathers?"
Zanetti sat and faced the Florentine across the table, his voice quiet
and tightly controlled.
"Leonardo my friend, I can tell you what I can tell no other man. Da
Feltre has been making himself welcome where he has no legal right to
be, if I make myself plain."
"Plain enough my friend. So it is a matter of simple Italian
vengeance?"
"No my friend it's not that simple I'm afraid. I can't just confront
the man, have a knock-down fight in the street. He's too inextricably
tied up in my affairs and he knows it. He drew up the contracts for the
Duke's bells for instance. He even negotiated my marriage agreement God
rot him! No Leonardo there are things I'm certain he must know about
that I would prefer to forget. Things he would surely use against me if
he found himself in a tight corner."
"If that's the case then I share your concern. That man would prove a
most dangerous adversary."
Zanetti nodded briefly.
"My own thoughts exactly. Any dialogue I open with him must be brought
to a conclusion once and for all."
The Florentine looked into Zanetti's cool grey eyes. His regard held an
air of sadness for his friend. Then he nodded once.
"So be it. But remember my friend, stick with what you know. You must
use your knowledge to your advantage, use what you are good at to be
successful."
Zanetti nodded sombre agreement. The advice was good.
The Florentine rose from the bench.
"Now I must complete my packing. I leave Rome tonight. Good-bye my
friend, and take great care."
For the rest of that day Zanetti turned his friend's advice over and
over in his mind as he worked, convinced that the key was there.
By the end of the day the plan was formed, and it must be that
evening.
He clapped Paulo on the shoulder at the end of the day's shift.
"Go and find your Anna and enjoy the carnival. I'll stay and work on. I
want to prepare the Great Bell myself."
"Won't you need some help Maestro?"
Zanetti laughed at the look of consternation on Paulo's face.
"Don't volunteer for something you'd rather not do Paulo. No you go
while you've got the chance, just tell Rocco and Francesco to barrow in
some fresh loam for me on your way out and then they can go too."
"Yes Maestro. Don't you want to go to the carnival parade?"
"I don't feel in a carnival mood Paulo. Besides I want to get the Great
Bell done. This one will be a Zanetti special, signed by the hand of
the Master."
Paulo left thankfully and Zanetti directed the two foundry hands to
pile fresh loam in the large bell-pit, then told them they were free to
go too.
For the next hour Zanetti worked quickly, shaping the loam and building
up the level until he was satisfied that all was ready. He would have
to move quickly, he couldn't afford to miss da Feltre and tonight was
the perfect time while the whole city was busy celebrating.
Leaving the foundry, he slipped quickly through the narrow backstreets,
unusually deserted now the crowds were revelling in the square, and
stationed himself in the mouth of a tiny alleyway near the tavern. He
knew the notary made it a habit to call there about this time of the
evening to insinuate his way into the affections of Magdalena, so he
would be doing her a favour too.
Ten minutes later the notary appeared striding insolently, a large
feathered hat at a confident angle on his head, cape swinging from his
shoulders. Zanetti let him pass, took a quick look around then fell
quietly into step behind him. The street was entirely deserted but for
the two of them, watched over only by the blank face of the belvedere
above them.
Zanetti raised his arm and brought the small gobbet of pig-iron wrapped
in cloth down on the back of da Feltre's head with a satisfying
thud.
The notary slumped to the ground, prone in the shadow of the
belvedere.
Zanetti felt for the pulse at the side of his neck. It wouldn't do for
the notary to die just yet, but Zanetti noted the lump already coming
up behind the notary's ear with satisfaction.
Da Feltre would come to with a headache as a bonus.

Da Feltre groaned and licked his dry lips.
His head thumped unmercifully. he felt hot and sweaty and his chest
felt tight. He tried to open his eyes and his head swam sickeningly,
but when he tried to investigate the throbbing behind his ear he
couldn't move. It was as if he'd become paralysed while
unconscious.
He opened his eyes slowly and carefully and tried to focus through the
swirl of mistiness. Gradually his vision cleared and he looked around
in puzzlement at the unfamiliar surroundings. He appeared to be sitting
in the centre of a large workshop. It was very hot and dry and from
somewhere behind him came a strange dull roar. He still couldn't move
his arms, and looking down, saw that he was tied to a substantial
wooden chair imbedded chest high in a roughly-flattened mound of earth.
it was impossible to move and the panic began to rise in a sickening
knot in his chest.
There was a sound to one side and a spatter of earth hit him in the
shoulder. He flinched and turned his throbbing head to see Zanetti
leaning on a shovel, a tight smile lacking any trace of humour on his
face.
"Zanetti! What madness is this? What's going on?" he managed to grate
out through his parched throat.
Zanetti barked out a short laugh.
"Madness is it?"
He looked at the notary with contempt. There was nothing of the
strutting peacock about his victim now.
"Is it madness to seek vengeance against one who has stolen a wife's
favours? Who has insulted one's good name and driven a wedge between
man and wife?"
He began to shovel more loam onto the pile with a single-minded
vigour.
"Oh no da Feltre, I plan to bring a little sanity and reason back into
my life."
Zanetti paused and leant on his shovel once more.
"The fate I have planned for you will make me very tranquil. Very
tranquil indeed."
Da Feltre began to stutter with fear, the acid sweat of terror running
down his face.
"I don't know what you mean Zanetti. Who's been filling your head with
lies?"
"It's useless to deny it da Feltre, I know about your sordid little
affair, and your lies only make me despise you all the more. The world
will be a better place without you."
Zanetti continued his methodical shovelling, ignoring the sobbing of
the notary as the loam pile built up around him.
"Zanetti! There must be a way out of this. I'll agree to anything you
want, I'll leave Rome. Money! I'll pay anything you like or sign any
agreement you care to name! I'll draw up the papers myself."
A harsh laugh burst from Zanetti's throat.
"You forget da Feltre, I trained at the Papal foundry where I also
learned to mistrust signed agreements made under duress and witnessed
enough political manoeuvrings to last me a lifetime. If you think I'd
trust you, you must think me a poor simpleton."
Zanetti resumed his shovelling and da Feltre's eyes widened with fear
as the level of the loam rose around his face.
"You madman, you're burying me alive! I'll suffocate!"
Zanetti carried on working as a grim smile spread slowly across his
face.
"Oh no. You won't suffocate, don't worry about that. I'll make you a
nice comfortable hole to breathe through."
Da Feltre's whimpering became muffled as Zanetti built the mound of
loam around his head, patting it into place as he went. Finally the
mound was built to his satisfaction and he went to fetch the
specially-made strickle to shape the mould.
An hour and a half later and his work was finished, the mould shaped,
and the outer mould fitted.
Zanetti mounted the rough trestle he'd erected around the mould and
peered down at da Feltre.
"Well my fine notary. The time of reckoning has arrived."
Da Feltre craned his neck upwards until he could just see Zanetti above
him.
"What are you going to do Zanetti? Don't cut off my air! I'll do
anything you ask, just be reasonable."
"It's too late. The bell tolls for thee da Feltre! The time for your
accounting has arrived. As far as Rome is concerned you will simply
disappear as if you never were. One of life's happy mysteries. But for
me, I'll be reminded of you every time the bells ring out from the
Duke's new belvedere, and the sweetest sound will be the great bell
that bears my mark, and your hand in the making."
Zanetti disappeared from sight and da Feltre's eyes widened in terror
and the fear of the unknown. He began to shout crazily.
"Come back Zanetti! Don't leave me to suffocate here! I'll do anything
you ask. It's a very good joke Zanetti. Ha ha ha!"
His voice choked off on a strangled sob.
Zanetti took hold of the chains which hung above the workshop floor,
and swung the glowing hopper out along its overhead rails above the
bell pits.
Da Feltre's foam-flecked lips writhed with terror and he could only
manage a croaking harsh whisper as Zanetti's face appeared above him
once more.
"Zanetti please. Help me. Dig me out of here I beg you."
Zanetti smiled grimly and reached for the handle of the glowing
hopper.
Da Feltre's eyes widened in terror and he began to scream, his mouth
working as the awful glowing maw of the hopper poised briefly above the
pouring hole of the great bell's mould, and as the living, smoking
torrent of glowing metal began to cascade into the opening below, the
sound of distant bells began to ring across the city, and Zanetti
smiled.