EMPIRE REWRITTEN

Chapter 41: A Library of Ambitions

The following morning dawned gently over Terni, its slate rooftops gleaming in the hazy light as a procession of riders prepared to set forth for Florence. A faint chill lingered in the air as Constantine emerged from the modest lodging they had secured the night before. The town, though small, already bustled softly at this early hour: bakers stoked their ovens, a horseman clattered by with a message bag slung over his shoulder, and distant church bells tolled their measured notes.

Constantine's party had swelled beyond its original size. Alongside his steadfast aide, George Sphrantzes, and the small contingent of guards who had journeyed with them thus far, they were now joined by an escort of riders bearing the discreet yet unmistakable livery of the Medici family. These men, sent by Cosimo de' Medici himself, carried an air of quiet competence. Their movements were disciplined, their mounts expertly guided—a testament to the wealth and training behind them.

Bessarion had also rejoined the group, having arrived in Terni in the wake of the Medici escort. The scholar carried letters bearing the distinctive Medici seal, their weight both physical and symbolic. Cosimo's men had initially sought Constantine in Rome, only to discover he had departed for Terni. Ever resourceful, Bessarion had taken charge of the correspondence and traveled to meet Constantine there, arriving shortly after the ink on Francesco Sforza's contract had dried.

The invitation from Cosimo had been as generous as it was surprising. A heavy purse of one hundred gold florins came as both gift and incentive, along with letters of introduction that effectively opened the gates of Florence to Constantine's entourage. The Medici men who joined them made it clear that the city was eager to receive such an esteemed guest. The news had piqued George's curiosity, and Bessarion, always the scholar and diplomat, could hardly contain his excitement. He had spent much of the early morning discussing Cosimo's influence with Constantine.

"Your Grace," Bessarion explained softly as they mounted their horses, "Cosimo de' Medici is not merely a wealthy banker—he is Florence. Though he does not bear an official title, his family's wealth and patronage have shaped the city's fortunes. To treat with him is to treat with the spirit of the Republic. He is known to be a lover of books, a collector, a patron of the arts. This could be an extraordinary opportunity to further our ambitions."

George chimed in, adjusting his cloak against the morning chill. "He's one of the wealthiest men in Italy and wields great influence. Already, he sends gold and men to escort us—he clearly desires your presence."

Constantine nodded, reflecting on these words as they set out. He had come to Italy seeking alliances—some for trade and still others for the steel of mercenaries like Sforza. The Medici invitation was a welcome surprise. It suggested that the ripples he had sent through Rome—his negotiations with the Papacy, the sale of printed Bibles, and the whispered news of his victory against Turahan Bey—had spread wider than he anticipated. The seeds of his ambitions were taking root in unexpected places.

Their journey to Florence was unhurried but purposeful. The narrow roads wound through countryside fields flecked with grapevines and olive orchards, their leaves whispering in the autumn breeze. The occasional farmstead passed by, smoke curling lazily from chimneys as families stirred to begin their day. Mounted couriers and traders, some likely headed for the markets of Florence, greeted the travelers with curious glances.

Two days later, the entourage entered Florence through the city's impressive walls. Arches framed cobblestone streets, where artisans plied their trades beneath painted façades. The perfume of fresh bread and the calls of merchants drifted through lanes where sculptors' workshops opened onto the street and painters displayed their works, rich with color. The city was alive—restless yet harmonious, as if art, commerce, and intellect thrummed together in a hidden symphony.