“You say you found the plans for the dreadnought in his hat?” Sir John asked.
“Underneath the lining. We’ve no reason to believe he got a copy to the Germans.”
“Thank heavens for that.”
A small voice piped up. “What’s a dreadnought?” I had been wondering the same thing.
“Henry, where are you?” Colin’s voice was stern. I heard shuffling and then the dragging steps of a small boy. “How many times have you been told that eavesdropping is not an honorable practice?”
“I’m sorry, Papa. I was already under your desk when you came in. I use it as my submarine, you see. It’s much more fun than playing Renaissance. I didn’t know you had a visitor until the two of you started talking, and given the nature of your conversation, decided it would be in my best interest to remain unseen.”
“You won’t repeat a word of what you heard, will you?” Sir John asked. “Doing so could cause great trouble for our king and our empire.”
“Of course not, sir,” Henry said, solemn and serious.
“That’s a good lad. I’ll rely on you. Handle this well, and I may ask for your help in the future.” There was a brief pause. I suspected Henry was shaking Sir John’s hand. “I’ll leave you to it, Hargreaves. Again, well done.”
I heard him cross the room and leave, shutting the door behind him.
“We are not finished discussing this, Henry,” Colin said. “I’m most disappointed in your behavior. You should have made your presence known the moment Sir John and I entered the library.”
“I’m truly sorry, Papa. Well, not truly but most definitely sorry. I can’t be too repentant, can I, when my admittedly bad behavior resulted in learning so many fascinating things? I have loads of questions about your work. It seems like you might be a decent candidate to join the crew of my submarine—”
He stopped talking at the sound of the door being flung open. The click of heels on the floor told me a woman had entered.
“Well, Father, I heard you’d returned from Florence,” Kat said. “Tessa has informed me that it wasn’t the pleasant holiday you’d led me to believe. Am I correct to understand that your wife allowed someone to be murdered in my bed?”
Eavesdropping might not be an honorable practice, but I was not about to make my presence known.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Myriad thanks to …
Charles Spicer, my editor, a constant joy to work with.
My wonderful team at Minotaur: Sarah Grill, Andy Martin, Sarah Melnyk, Danielle Prielipp, David Rostein, and David Stanford Burr.
Anne Hawkins, Tom Robinson, and Annie Kronenberg: nobody does it better.
My brilliant son, Alexander Tyska, for his extensive knowledge of Lucretius.
Brett Battles, Rob Browne, Bill Cameron, Christina Chen, Jon Clinch, Jamie Freveletti, Chris Gortner, Jane Grant, Nick Hawkins, Robert Hicks, Elizabeth Letts, Lara Matthys, Carrie Medders, Robbie Milonas, Erica Ruth Neubauer, Missy Rightley, Renee Rosen, and Lauren Willig. Love you all.
My wonderful friends and neighbors at Fish Creek Ranch, who have been tirelessly supportive: Bill and Linda Biles, Bill and Claudia Cordes, John and Susie Davis, Rob Mason, Mike Parrie, and Larry and Carol Wiles.
My lovely stepdaughters Katie and Jess. Special thanks to Katie for teaching me what it feels like to feed a giraffe.
My parents.
Andrew, my everything.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Immersing myself in the rich culture and history of Florence while writing this book was an absolute delight. I love learning how cities have changed over the centuries. Mina might have shopped in the Mercato Vecchio, site of the old Roman forum, but in Emily’s day the space had become the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II. Today, it’s the Piazza della Repubblica. It’s hard to imagine the city without the Uffizi Galleries, but they weren’t constructed until the sixteenth century and never a part of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s Florence. It would have been at the top of Emily’s list of places to visit; but in her time, Botticelli’s Primavera was not yet housed in the museum. The famous statue of Dante that now stands on the steps of the church at Santa Croce was originally in the center of the piazza, where Emily sees it.
Agnolo bringing his illegitimate daughter into his household was inspired by Cosimo I, who did just that with his own daughter after his mistress died.
Women in Renaissance Florence did not take their husbands’ names, which is why Mina and her compatriots retain their own surnames throughout the book.
The significance of the manuscripts found by Renaissance book hunters is profound. I highly recommend that all book lovers read Stephen Greenblatt’s magnificent The Swerve: How the World Became Modern to learn more about these extraordinary men.
Emily finds Lena’s body in a hidden room in the Medici Chapel. The room does exist but was not discovered until 1975, when Paolo Dal Poggetto, then director of the museum, moved a wardrobe and found a trapdoor. The walls are covered with 180 sketches, 97 of which are thought to be the work of Michelangelo. Dal Poggetto speculates that the artist may have spent two months hiding in the space when the Florentine Republic fell in 1530 and was under threat of attack by papal forces.
Signore Bastieri’s shop is based on one of my favorites in Florence, Cuoiofficine. It’s run by two brothers, Timothy and Tommaso Sabatini, who apply the seventeenth-century art of marbling paper to perfectly tanned Tuscan leather. Their work is exquisite (as you can see if you visit either the store or their website).
Emily’s story is set in 1903, when relations between Great Britain and Germany were already on the decline that would lead to World War I. The British public was being bombarded by stories of possible invasion and German spies hiding in the countryside. In January 1900, the Daily Mail claimed that “Every German officer has his own little bit of England marked off.” Books and stories like those written by William Le Queux fueled what became known as spy fever. Although after the war it became clear there had been virtually no spies in Britain—and certainly no effective ones—the paranoia of the
