The Making of a Prince by Maurizio Marmorstein

Author:Maurizio Marmorstein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mentoris Project

10

1513: THE PRINCE VS. DISCOURSES

Niccolò’s voyage back to Sant’Andrea after his adventures in Florence nearly killed him. When La Riccia bid goodbye to Biagio and him at her doorstep, the rain had already flooded the city streets and muddied every inch of the fourteen-kilometer road back home. To make matters worse, the frigid December winds turned the pouring rain into sharp slithers of ice. Biagio did nothing but complain the entire way, and his twenty-year-old horse, Bischero, with its joints aching of arthritis and its one good eye clouded with cataracts, stumbled along at a snail’s pace. Bischero’s need for constant nourishment required stopping for hay and fresh water in every village or livery stable along their path, and since his teeth had either worn down to nothing or fallen out years ago, each meal seemed to last a lifetime. Of course, Niccolò had routinely weathered similar climactic conditions during his frequent diplomatic trips to the northern territories, especially France and Germany, but his fervent sense of mission and single-minded dedication to resolving the political issues at hand overshadowed whatever hardships he might have suffered. Having to battle the freezing air and gelid downpours of Tuscany for no other reason than to resume a meaningless life in the country gave him no comfort and precious little strength to resist whatever came his way. And, of course, he also wasn’t getting any younger.

Marietta had the house ready for them when they shuffled through the door. A piping hot bowl of ceci bean and chicory soup met them as soon as they dried off around the crackling fire. They ate much later than usual due to the long voyage, so they hastened directly into Niccolò’s study afterward. Niccolò was anxious to get back to work, and Biagio, too, couldn’t wait to dig into his friend’s little book and lend a hand or offer a piece of advice wherever he could.

“You have been cursed with excellent calligraphy, my dear Biagio,” said Niccolò as they sat around his desk, “which requires you, I am afraid, to transcribe my humble words into legible script once we have finished here.”

“It would be my honor,” said Biagio, already starting to leaf through a rough copy of The Prince that was marked with the cover page De Principatibus. “Is this everything?” he remarked, noting its modest length.

“Do not be fooled by its brevity. Each page represents years of study and decades of true experience.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Lest you forget, I’ve been at your side for—”

“Twenty years. Yes, I know, Biagio,” said Niccolò, teasing his old friend.

“Since the very day you made your grand decision to become a civil servant,” Biagio added, rubbing it in.

“An ignominious day,” said Niccolò, deciding to bring the discussion back to some semblance of seriousness. “Not because of my decision, of course. I am grateful and fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve my city.”

“Then it must be because I stayed at your side,” quipped Biagio.

“That too,” said Niccolò in jest.

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