The Measure of a Man Read online

  Front endpaper

  “Profile drawing of a young man

  (possibly Salai),” 1517-1518, RL 12557, Windsor Castle, The Royal Collection © Royal Collection Trust © HM Queen Elizabeth II, 2019 / Bridgeman Images

  (left side/top)

  “Study of hands,” c. 1478-1480 or 1488-1489, RL 12558, Windsor Castle, The Royal Collection © Royal Collection Trust © HM Queen Elizabeth II, 2019 / Bridgeman Images (left side/bottom)

  “The muscles of the shoulder,” c. 1509-1510, RL 19003v, Windsor Castle, The Royal Collection © Royal Collection Trust © HM Queen Elizabeth II, 2019 / Bridgeman Images (right side)

  Back endpaper

  “A rider on a rearing horse,” c. 1481, Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum,

  obj. Pd. 44-1999 © Bridgeman Images

  (left side/top)

  “Study for fusing the horse for the ‘Equestrian Monument to Francesco Sforza’,” 1491, Madrid, Ms II, f. 157r © Biblioteca Nacional de España, Madrid

  (left side/bottom)

  “Flapping wing,” Paris, Ms B, f. 88v, Paris, Institut de France

  (© RMN / Archivi Alinari, Florence)

  (right side/top)

  “Ornithopter,” Paris, Ms B, f. 80r, Paris, Institut de France

  (© RMN / Archivi Alinari, Florence)

  (right side/bottom)

  Internal images

  Italy in 1493: © Stefano Benini, Florence

  Model of the Sforza Castle in Milan: © 2019 DeAgostini Picture Library/Scala, Florence

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2018 by Giunti Editore S.p.A., Firenze-Milano

  www.giunti.it

  First publication 2019 by Europa Editions

  Translation by Howard Curtis and Katherine Gregor

  Original Title: La misura dell’uomo

  Translation copyright © 2019 by Europa Editions

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Cover art by Emanuele Ragnisco

  www.mekkanografici.com

  Cover illustration: Collage of following images:

  © RMN /Archivi Alinari, Florence (f. 88v, MS B, Institut de France, left side/right;

  f. 80r MS B, Institut de France, center/left)

  © Biblioteca Nacional de España (“Study for fusing the horse for the ‘Equestrian Monument to Francesco Sforza,’ MS II f.157r, bottom)

  © Bridgeman Images (“A rider on a rearing horse,” Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, center/left).

  © Fine Art Images/Archivi Alinari, Florence (Leonardo da Vinci, “Self-portrait”, Biblioteca Reale, Torino, top/left)

  © Royal Collection Trust © HM Queen Elizabeth II, 2019 /Bridgeman Images (“Study of hands,” RL 12558, center/right; “The muscles of the shoulder,” RL 19003v, bottom/right; “Profile drawing of a young man,” RL 12557, top/center)

  ISBN 9781609455521

  Marco Malvaldi

  THE MEASURE

  OF A MAN

  Translated from the Italian

  by Howard Curtis and Katherine Gregor

  THE MEASURE

  OF A MAN

  To Giovanna Baldini,

  Luisa Sacerdote,

  Marcella Binchi,

  Lia Marianelli

  To all public school teachers

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  THE WORKSHOP

  LEONARDO DI SER PIERO DA VINCI:

  painter, sculptor, architect, court engineer, much prone to daydreaming. In other words, a bit of a genius.

  GIAN GIACOMO CAPROTTI,

  also known as SALAÌ: general factotum in Leonardo’s workshop and his favorite apprentice, a thief and a liar, stubborn and greedy. But he also has a few faults.

  MARCO D’OGGIONO, ZANINO DA FERRARA, GIULIO THE GERMAN:

  other apprentices of the da Vinci genius.

  RAMBALDO CHITI:

  Leonardo’s ex-apprentice and, unfortunately for him, ex-many other things too.

  CATERINA:

  Leonardo’s loving mother, who conceived him with the notary Ser Piero da Vinci when they were both young and inexperienced. A woman who lavishes far too much care on our protagonist, and is also far too outspoken.

  THE COURT

  LUDOVICO IL MORO:

  Duke of Bari and Lord of Milan, one meter ninety of Machiavellian substance, the illegitimate son of Francesco Sforza. He cannot decide which is better, to command or to fuck, but loves doing both.

  FRANCESCO SFORZA:

  dead as a doornail for more than twenty-seven years, but still the omnipresent father of Ludovico il Moro. There is a gargantuan bronze horse to be erected in his honor.

  GIACOMO TROTTI:

  ambassador, eyes and ears of the Duke of Ferrara, Ercole I d’Este. Not so young anymore, a skilled interpreter of court life. A bit of a snitch, perhaps, but that’s what they pay him for.

  BEATRICE D’ESTE:

  daughter of the Duke of Ferrara and wife of Ludovico il Moro, large in body and dowry, naïve but not so naïve that she doesn’t notice the many petticoats rustling down the corridors of the castle.

  ERCOLE MASSIMILIANO:

  baby son and heir of Moro and Beatrice. He is two years old but already a nobleman.

  TEODORA:

  little Ercole Massimiliano’s nurse.

  MAXIMILIAN I:

  Viennese, Holy Roman Emperor. He is not in the palace but might as well be.

  BIANCA MARIA SFORZA:

  niece of Ludovico il Moro, betrothed to Maximilian I. The wedding is set for next Christmas.

  LUCREZIA CRIVELLI:

  Ludovico il Moro’s official mistress. She will be portrayed by Leonardo in the painting known as La Belle Ferronnière. But better not tell anyone.

  GALEAZZO SANSEVERINO:

  Count of Caiazzo and Voghera, trusted son-in-law of Ludovico il Moro, a man of action who commands respect. Of the three Galeazzos in the novel, he is the most important.

  BIANCA GIOVANNA SFORZA:

  his wife, illegitimate daughter of Ludovico il Moro.

  AMBROGIO VARESE DA ROSATE:

  court astrologer, all clad in crimson. An expert on the movements of the stars and a diligent producer of horoscopes. He likes to say that what matters most in predictions is to foresee an event or a date, but never the two at once.

  PIETROBONO DA FERRARA:

  direct rival of Varese da Rosate.

  BERGONZIO BOTTA:

  tax collector to the Duke of Milan.

  YOUNG MARQUESS STANGA:

  overseer of the court treasury, official paymaster, unofficial pain in the pocket.

  BERNARDINO DA CORTE:

  lord of the manor.

  REMIGIO TREVANOTTI:

  servant.

  ASCANIO MARIA SFORZA VISCONTI:

  cardinal, brother of Ludovico il Moro. There were no conflict of interest laws back then.

  GIAN GALEAZZO MARIA SFORZA:

  legitimate Duke of Milan, being the son of Ludovico’s older brother, Galeazzo Maria, who was assassinated a few years earlier. After trying to rule in his place by fair means and throwing the Festa del Paradiso in honor of his wedding, assigning the spectacular décor to none other than Leonardo, Uncle Ludovico kindly locked him up in the Castle of Vigevano.

  ISABELLA OF ARAGON:

  his wife. You never see her around
, and so much the better.

  BONA OF SAVOY:

  wife of Galeazzo Maria and mother of Gian Galeazzo Maria Sforza, as well as regent of the Duchy of Milan until Ludovico locks her up in the castle tower that will be named after her.

  CICCO SIMONETTA:

  her trusted advisor, a talented statesman who pays with his head (and not in the metaphorical sense) for his loyalty to Bona.

  CATROZZO:

  court dwarf of some repute, a polyglot. As scurrilous as befits a past master of laughter and jests.

  PALAZZO CARMAGNOLA

  CECILIA GALLERANI:

  a woman of great education and refinement, saved from life as a nun by Ludovico, who makes her his mistress when she is very young. More recently, after discovering he had gotten her pregnant, Ludovico himself made sure to give her in marriage to Count Carminati de Brambilla, known as Bergamini. She is the Lady with the Ermine we can all admire in Krakow.

  CESARE SFORZA VISCONTI:

  illegitimate son of Ludovico il Moro and Cecilia. He is not very old—only two, in fact—but already owns some sizeable property: when he was born, his father decided to give him Palazzo Carmagnola—the building where the Piccolo Teatro di Milano is currently based.

  TERSILLA:

  cheerful and talkative companion of Cecilia Gallerani.

  CORSO:

  servant of Cecilia Gallerani.

  THE FRENCH

  HIS MOST CHRISTIAN MAJESTY CHARLES VIII:

  king of France. Weak in body and intellect, he talks a great deal about war, about invading Italy and taking Naples, even though he himself has never been in a battle. His motto could be Let us arm ourselves and you go to war.

  LOUIS DE VALOIS:

  Duke of Orléans, his cousin, future leader in the campaign to conquer the kingdom of Naples, he harbors secret claims on the Duchy of Milan (as descendant of Valentina Visconti, his grandmother).

  PHILIPPE, DUKE OF COMMYNES:

  French envoy to Italy, in cahoots with the Duke of Orléans.

  ROBINOT AND MATTENET:

  the ugly and the handsome. The Duke of Commynes’s sinister but clumsy henchmen, they are on a secret mission to Milan.

  PERRON DE BASCHE:

  originally from Orvieto, later ambassador of His Most Christian Majesty Charles VIII and the Duke of Orléans.

  CARLO BARBIANO DI BELGIOIOSO:

  Ludovico il Moro’s ambassador to the French court.

  JOSQUIN DES PREZ:

  singer at the service of Ludovico il Moro, a musical genius in body and counterpoint.

  THE MERCHANTS

  ACCERRITO PORTINARI:

  corpulent representative of the Medici Bank, a glutton for steaks and lucre.

  BENCIO SERRISTORI:

  Messer Accerrito’s associate, an indefatigable worker but not during official holidays.

  ANTONIO MISSAGLIA:

  prestigious armorer, a true artist in iron, and Leonardo’s friend.

  GIOVANNI BARRACCIO:

  wool trader.

  CLEMENTE VULZIO, CANDIDO BERTONE, RICCETTO NANNIPIERI AND ADEMARO COSTANTE:

  wool, silk, needle, and alum merchants who enjoy credit at the Medici Bank.

  THE CLERICS

  FRANCESCO SANSONE DA BRESCIA:

  General of the Franciscan Order.

  GIULIANO DA MUGGIA:

  Franciscan preacher.

  DIODATO DA SIENA:

  prior of the Jesuates (the now defunct congregation of the apostolic clerics of Saint Jerome), tenacious shepherd of his flock.

  GIOACCHINO DA BRENNO:

  Jesuate friar and intransigent preacher, stirrer-up of crowds and disturber of the peace.

  ELIGIO DA VARRAMISTA:

  Jesuate and expert graphologist, well-versed as he is in promissory notes and letters of credit, being a former banker converted to the faith on the road to Milan.

  GIULIANO DELLA ROVERE:

  cardinal who has not yet come to terms with the election of his rival, Borgia, as Pope Alexander VI.

  Talent hits a target no one else can hit;

  Genius hits a target no one else can see.

  —ARTHUR SCHOPENHAUER

  PROLOGUE

  The man paused for a moment before going in.

  No use glancing around to see if anyone had followed him. The entrance to the castle was situated in one of Milan’s old districts, on a dark, damp street that could be reached only via other dark, damp streets, so if anybody had tailed him he would have shaken them off a long time ago, in spite of the garish pink cloth garment he wore.

  To tell the truth, he sometimes feared he would get lost himself. Once before, he had been unable to find his way through the web of alleys around the castle. Partly his fault, of course, he had never had a strong sense of direction. And partly the fault of this city, which had expanded so badly, without a plan, without a shape, without a vision. This city had to be rethought from top to bottom, reorganized in a different way. A radically different way. A way never seen before. For example, as a city on several levels. From the bottom to the top, from the water to the sky. A city the opposite of a house, where the poor lived up in the air and the gentry down on the ground, like in the Roman insulae described in Vitruvius’s book. Francesco di Giorgio had been right to translate it from Latin, it had truly been worth it. That book had been a good purchase. It had cost him an arm and a leg, but had made him think of so many—

  The man in pink snapped out of his reverie, becoming aware that he had gotten lost, even if only in his own thoughts. This happened often and was by far the best part of his day. But now was not the time to indulge in daydreams. Now he had things to do.

  Slowly, but not calmly, the man knocked at the front door. Almost immediately, a creaking sound informed him that someone was opening the door, and in the pitch black of the street the tiny entrance hall looked almost bright.

  Just two words.

  “Come in.”

  And so the man stepped in, leaving the darkness behind him.

  BEGINNING

  The first thing you noticed on entering the Council Room was the lack of light. Even though it was not yet mid-October, Milan was already chilly, and even before the castle filled with the masters on their return from Vigevano, the servants had already covered the windows with sheets of white canvas soaked in turpentine to make them as transparent as possible, letting in very little light from the outside but at the same time shielding from view everything that took place inside the room. To those living in the castle, this was the Room of the Chevrons because of the red and white decorations that went by that name, but for everybody else, in other words the majority of Milan’s residents, this was the Council Room: the room where the Secret Council would usually assemble. Six individuals, the most powerful individuals in Milan, plus their master, the most powerful of them all.

  “Show the next one in, my lord.”

  Bernardino da Corte, the castellan, nodded, pulled the heavy timber door toward him, and announced, “His Excellency, the General of the Franciscan Order, Francesco Sansone da Brescia.”

  Tuesdays and Fridays were days reserved for audiences. Days on which Ludovico Sforza, il Moro, Duke of Bari but nonetheless Lord of Milan, would grant an audience to anyone requesting one in order to resolve a problem. Any kind of problem and any kind of citizen of Milan—which meant anybody who paid the taxes levied by il Moro, except for those who did not pay them by kind exemption of il Moro himself. Any Milanese who paid taxes had the right to be heard, partly because his tax bill was generally pretty steep.

  But the head of the Franciscan order was not a citizen of Milan, nor was he just any citizen. Technically speaking, he did not have the right to usurp even a minute of the precious time il Moro reserved for his subjects, listening to the pleas of the wretched instead of imposing his wi
ll on unruly ambassadors, fiery steeds, or compliant servant girls. On the other hand, common sense would deem it foolish to deny an audience to the General of the Order, who presented himself as an ordinary citizen.

  And Ludovico il Moro, Duke of Bari and Lord of Milan, was not in the least foolish.

  “What an honor,” il Moro said, sitting on his high-backed seat. “The General of the Franciscan Order requests an audience like any citizen. To what do we owe such a modest visit?”

  “I am a humble Franciscan, Your Lordship,” Francesco Sansone replied, “unaccustomed to honors or frills. Besides, the question I wish to submit to Your Lordship’s sagacity requires so little time that requesting a private audience would have been arrogant.”

  Welcome to the Renaissance, where every sentence is calibrated and adorned like a jewel, every single word weighed on miniature scales and then displayed, not to show off its beauty but to suggest how powerful its wearer is. Where the meaning of every speech must be interpreted on the basis of who is delivering it, who is listening to it, who is or isn’t present in the room, which names are mentioned and, above all, which names are not even uttered.