Medieval Blood: The Geoffrey Chaucer Mysteries by Philip Gooden

Medieval Blood: The Geoffrey Chaucer Mysteries by Philip Gooden

Author:Philip Gooden [Gooden, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2020-08-05T22:00:00+00:00


“What happened?” said Geoffrey Chaucer to Bartolomeo Gentile. “When you saw Signor Lipari, I mean. You must have been … one of the last people to see him alive.”

Bartolomeo looked ill at ease. But, reflected Chaucer, he probably looked uneasy himself. The whole household was distracted or distressed or worse. The two men were in the dining chamber, keeping out of the way while Antonio Lipari’s body was being retrieved from beneath the weighty statue. Chaucer reckoned that this was a task best left to members of the household. There was enough confusion and distress in the long chamber already. He had taken advantage of it to have another rapid search for the letters supposedly authorizing the English loan, but without success. Now Geoffrey and Bartolomeo were by themselves. The forlorn remains of the feast, like the guttering candles, were a reminder of the cheerful spirit of the evening. A dead calm ruled over the palazzo.

“What happened?” repeated Bartolomeo. “I told you what happened. Messere Lipari and I spoke together, before this terrible accident.”

“And he did not agree to your request – for his daughter’s hand?”

“He did not turn me down either.”

The notary sounded prickly and defensive at the same time. He would not meet Chaucer’s eye. In fact, the interview with the banker was still fresh and painful in Bartolomeo’s mind. When he claimed that he had not been turned down, he was correct, but only in a literal sense. Antonio Lipari had responded to the notary’s request with a snort of laughter. In his eyes, Gentile was a decent enough fellow but he lacked the drive and ambition which would have made him a suitable match for his Philomela. As he’d indicated to his daughter, he had other plans for her. But Lipari saw the hurt in the lawyer’s expressive face and, in a rare mood, hastened to mollify him. Antonio Lipari did not want to quarrel with life at this moment. The evening had gone well, he had given out appropriate little gifts at the feast, he was on the verge of making a substantial loan to the English crown (a decision that could only reinforce his growing status in Florence). So instead of an outright refusal, he gave some temporizing answer to Bartolomeo.

But the other man wasn’t so easily fooled and he went away with an angry, bitter heart. Although, when first questioned by Chaucer, he had implied that there was hope, Bartolomeo was quite capable of reading the truth in the eyes of the father.

What they said to him was, You are a little, jumped-up man of law. If it wasn’t so amusing, this wish of yours to marry Philomela Lipari, I might become angry about it.

“What was Signor Lipari doing when you left him?” said Geoffrey, breaking in on Gentile’s thoughts.

“He was alive.”

“Of course he was alive.”

“In fact, he was preparing to see you, Geoffrey. I told you as much in this very room.”

“But what was he doing? Was he sitting? Was he standing?



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