Rumours abound in Rome of demons, said to resemble flying monkeys, dropping out of the night sky to kill and feed upon the unwary. There are even wild tales of young women being snatched and carried off screaming by these fell beasts. The creatures - if indeed they exist and are not just figments of wine-raddled Saturnalian imaginations - seem most active in the area of the Quirinale. However, there have been similar reports from other areas.
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A woman has been battered almost to death in her own home in the Monti rione.
The terrible assault took place in the Bobboli household in what was once the merchant quarter of the district. The widow Esmerelda Pozzoli was cook and her brother Enrico steward to Silvio Bobboli. Esmerelda was a well-liked and well-respected woman in her community, known for her generosity and good works in the parish.
Though still alive, visitors report that Esmerelda is not responding to her environment. She is capable of swallowing water and the thin broth that her brother feeds her but speaks never a word and seems unaware of her surroundings. A physician attends each day and the parish priest comes to pray over her and read to her from his breviary, but none know whether her situation may ever be ameliorated.
There is much speculation as to what exactly happened that night. Neighbours report shouting and screams: then silence. Those peeping out of their shutters speak of a group of street ruffians leaving the property an hour or so later. One was limping heavily; another seemed to be a prisoner; there was a boy with them; and one of those disreputable mendicant friars. The following morning a tumbrel arrived and took away a body – a very substantial body given the way the driver and his mate staggered under the load.
The next day Desiderata, the daughter of the Bobboli household was brought to her father’s door by none other than Lorenzo Bembo, the Venetian Agent, who spent a full hour at the Bobboli house with a scribe and another man, while his guards stood outside front and back. Folk speculate that this must all be connected to the commotion over by the Porta Nomentana. The name of Cola di Rienzo, the notaio from the Aventine rione whose fingers seem to be in so many pies these days, is also whispered as the benefactor who sent round the physician (and the tumbrel).
Silvio Bobboli and Enrico Pozzoli are saying nothing and swiftly change the subject when pressed. However, it is said that Esmerelda’s three sons are devoted to her and they be more persistent in demanding answers from their uncle and her employer. They are all professional soldiers, currently fighting down in the Regno for King Roberto.
Early risers near the Porta Nomentana yesterday cannot have failed to see, or at least to hear, the cavalcade of horsemen clatter out of the city. Those who laid eyes upon them would see the Lion of St. Mark on the gonfaloniere’s banner. Those adept in the reading of such things might add that their livery suggested some branch of the powerful Venetian Corner family and that their badges also bore insignia of the east coast city of Pescara. This then, averred the more knowledgeable, was the entourage of Beltrano Corner, the Venetian Agent of Pescara. The man himself rode at their head, like a peacock armed for war.
The horsemen – around two dozen – paid as little attention to the ruffians holding the Nomentana Gate than they did when they arrived a few days before. A few hundred yards up the Via Nomentana, half a dozen peeled off to ride towards a the large heap of rubble, overgrown with thorns and thickets from which thrusts the pile of an ancient edifice. The wise claim it was part of an aqueduct that carried fresh water to the city in the days of the Caesars. They dismounted: some held the horses, others disappeared into the bushes.
The rest of the Venetians headed further along the Via Nomentana, before striking off to the south. Observers scratched their heads at this for all that lay in that direction was an old mill, abandoned generations before, that now lay derelict.
Meanwhile, in the part of the city where the Quirinale and Viminale hills meet, another score of Venetians, this time afoot and in the colours of Lorenzo Bembo, the Venetian Agent of Rome, approached the substantial ruins known as the Baths of Diocletian. Amongst them was a scruffily dressed creature that some recognised as a Roman street ruffian, who fled the city some years ago after cheating the wrong people. He may once have had a real name but was universally known as La Donnola – the Weasel.
As they reached the Baths, the Venetians fanned out to form a cordon. Weasel was thrust into the broken down gateway that marked the entrance to the complex. A while later he returned with four others. Two were disarmed and bound by the Venetians. The other two, an emaciated friar, who looked somewhat ill-used, and a young lady who looked a little dishevelled but seemed otherwise unharmed, were treated with more kindness. All were led away to the Venetian Agent’s residence. A dozen soldiers peeled off and marched to the Nomentana Gate where they loitered, doubtless to ensure that the gates stayed open for the return of their comrades.
A couple of hours later Corner’s men trotted back to the Nomentana Gate. They were leading a string of laden mules and dragging a handful of captives. They were joined by their comrades from the aqueduct ruins. Those searching the mill in the hope of salvaging something anything left behind, found only the buzzing of flies and the barking of feral dogs fighting over some fresh corpses. Two more were found by the aqueduct ruins.
The next day, Beltrano Corner led his men once more through the Porta Nomentana, with the pack mules and a half dozen prisoners, no doubt to face Venetian justice in Pescara.
Later that day a man was thrown out of the Venetian residence and onto the streets. It was Weasel, his face disfigured by the angry red mark of the branding iron. Most thought him a lucky man. The Venetians seldom show such mercy to those that steal from them.
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