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Many things were said of the Cardinal-Inquisitor Francesco Barberini by the people of Rome. Most of what was said was quite vile and false. Viler even compared to what we have seen him in our tale. But where the false rumors truly ran wild, in their ridiculousness, were in regards to his intimate desires, which were quite simple. The Cardinal-Inquisitor enjoyed the company of young women in their early twenties who could speak French and practice it. Given the bacchanalian degeneracy of some of the others bearing the princely title of cardinal, this was rather tame and nearly chaste. And it was while on his way, by foot, to an assignation with a favored woman that it transpired his pathway was blocked by a cloaked man.

The Cardinal-Inquisitor sighed and gestured.

But nothing happened after that. That is, nothing happened that was planned by him, for his two bodyguards did not come to his aid to remove the obstacle. He frowned and glanced back and saw a pair of men sprawled on their backs, their pale dead faces with gaping open mouths reflecting moonlight.

Another man would have ran right there and then, but the Cardinal-Inquisitor was of a different sort.

"Whatever you are paid, I can quite easily double it."

The cloaked man stepped forward and revealed his ill looking pock marked face.

And then and only then, did Cardinal-Inquisitor took flight. He ran until his sides were aflame. He knew the Eternal City quite well and, even in a panicked run from a killer, he ducked into the alleys he knew would connect to safety. The trouble was, his lungs gave out before his legs could take him there, so he leaned in the shadow of a crumbling house and peered into the darkness in terror.

The first blow came to his already inflamed side. He jerked up and sideways and collapsed to knees. The second blow came from a foot, not fist and smashed him in the spin and he fell face first into a puddle teeming with urine of the local children and stray dogs. He spluttered, spat and rolled to his other side (the one not hit with fist) and opened his mouth to negotiate with the pock marked fellow.

The fellow planted a boot on his throat instead. Took out a stiletto. Proceeded to cut off the Cardinal-Inquisitor's ears, then some fingers, then a thumb and when the foaming at the mouth, screaming and yelping Cardinal-Inquisitor passed out from pain and shock, the fellow reached down, stuck a foul smelling rag under the man's nose, and watched as Cardinal-Inquisitor come to life, only for it to be extinguished when the blade struck those pained lungs. Blood jetted, then seeped and the Cardinal-Inquisitor Francesco Barberini died in a puddle of piss, blood and vomit, and not all of it his own.


At dawn, the body was found. There was very little mourning in the streets of Rome, and instead when the Barberini guards came to reclaim the body they were pelted. One of the guards was young and an excitable sort and he let loose a pistol at the vague direction of his attackers, missed them all, and murdered a six year old child standing on a stall and cheering. The guards were massacred after that by a mad mob, and the disturbance spread throughout the Eternal City.

Antonio Barberini was quite caught off guard, and thought of nothing but to retreat to Castel Sant'Angelo, a mighty citadel, then north of the city of Rome proper, but in doing so, he had conceded Rome to mobs, and they ran wild and committed gross offenses against any symbol of the family Barberini. Though even that was not strictly true, for certain fountains and pretty squares were left alone, while more than a few shops were looted that had no connection to the family Barberini at all.

The Roman ghetto was by this point depopulated, and those who had come to loot it in the false name of seeking vengeance on the Barberini were laughed at by the knowing Christian locals, who called the would be looters tourists and worse things. All true denizens of Rome knew the surviving Jews of the Eternal City were huddled in their new enclave on a hill overlooking the people's square. And what mob managed to climb up the steep hill was soon disappointed, for the Jews up there had closed the gates to their new neighborhood and had armed guards patrolling thick walls. Though some wine fueled toughs screamed obscene things at the walls, one volley from the new ghetto's guards cleared the would be looters off they fled, leaving the Jews inside to breathe the first sigh of true relief since the last Pope had lived.

Taddeo Barberini learned of the disturbances by day's end and it took two more for him to cobble together an army of German mercenaries and with such a force he finally did reach Rome, finding a town full of chaos and mob rule. He was unable to communicate with his surviving brother Antonio right away, and as such could not coordinate a response, even if he was in any carriage of mind to do more than to revenge himself and his family on the Roman people. As it was, he was not. And so he revenged himself. The mob did not organize much past some bands of looting, and the experienced German troops ran roughshod over them, and there commenced a pillage of the poorer parts of Rome that would make the vandals of the yesteryear blush.


When the smoke cleared, the corpses dumped into the Tiber and the raped sobbing survivors kicked out of the buildings where the German forces made their home, Cardinal Guido Bentivoglio d'Aragona, a sometime friend of Barberini and an ally of French interests, left his fortified house on Quirinale, and with a heavy escort of rough looking fellows, came to visit the two brothers Barberini brooding up in Castel Sant'Angelo. After pleasantries were exchanged and health of families much inquired about, Bentivoglio struck blood:

"You cannot remain in Rome as you are, lest you want the Eternal City to go up in flames."

Antonio looked ill, while Taddeo blustered and even threatened, but the urbane diplomat Bentivoglio rode out the storm. And struck once more when Taddeo stopped to draw a breath.

"I say again, unless you want this town to go dogs, or worse, Pamphili and his Spanish catamites, you must quit Rome. You have made yourself too odious. Antonio can remain up here in this Castel, with French and North Italian toughs, but you, Taddeo must leave for Castel Gandolfo with your filthy Germans and stay there for mayhap a year. Or Rome shall rebel once again, and much worse."

Antonio looked more ill still, while Taddeo fairly exploded. Yet once again Bentivoglio waited it all out.

"Taddeo, do you want your family to be destroyed? Do you want a Borgia Pope to sit upon St. Peter's Throne? Do you have wish for the fires of the Spanish Inquisition to destroy all that you and your uncle love and loved? If so, then stay here and fight on. But if you have any love for your cause, you must do as I say. A third is not given."

This time Antonio restrained Taddeo and spoke:

"If I am to be trapped up here at the Castel and Taddeo is to leave town, what of Rome?"

"I am prepared, with a group of men who have no love for Spain to draw up a force to police Rome and bring it to peace and make it safe again for pilgrims and the flow of trade."

"I see. We turn over Rome to you. You hold a conclave and be made Pope. And in return, we get to keep our wealth and nobody goes before courts of law?"

"I... I had no wish to be so direct, my dearest Antonio, but that is about the size of it."

"Bugger that! I say we stay and fight! I say we drown the city in a sea of blood!"

"And shall you then sail across those corpses on a raft made of human skin, dear Taddeo? Pray, be sensible. You lost the battle, do not stay and lose the war."

"I lost no battle!"

"Taddeo..."

"Bugger this! I lost no battle! I defeated every foe sent forth!"

"But you could not defeat your nature, and now you made yourself a monster," calmly said Bentivoglio.

"You... You... You dare?!"

"I dare, because I can hold this city and help you keep your lives and land. You cannot. I shall now depart to admire the inner courtyard of this citadel. Call for me when you are ready. Thankee."

And without permission or acknowledgement, the cardinal turned messenger decamped.


"Antonio, we can fight and make right."

"For a day or two, or a month at most. And then we shall be destroyed, all of us, not just us two. No, no, no, Taddeo, we must see the wisdom of Bentivoglio's plan."

"Bugger him!"

"I rather not, for if we are to remain free, healthy and in wealth, we must ensure Pamphili does not take the Triple Crown. Better to have Bentivoglio as our pope, than a bloody worshipper of the Court of Md."

Taddeo raged on for a quart hour or more, but soon the part of his mind that could think cold thoughts prevailed over his warm blood and he settled and though bitter and disgusted, he agreed. Thus, the affair was settled in the Vatican upon the fate of Rome, for now.


For while all this went on, the situation at the front grew even more restless. With the loss of Barberini prestige in Rome, and rumors circling of impeding collapse if outright collapses at every turn, more than a few mercenaries stationed near the Central Italies, decided to take home their pay from the locals and depart for better climes. Thus the massacres in Rome were followed by a series of sporadic slaughters in Farnese lands by Castro, and soon Medicean spies reported that the road to Rome was clear.

This naturally caused a dilemma for the Medici. On the one hand, they were negotiating the truce, on another, the opportunity was too great to pass up. The only thing they feared was how the Sea Wolf would react, for the Sea Wolf at this time was the only credit worthy name in all of Italies, and his credibility at banks and among people was so high that to oppose him openly would be to invite trouble.


As for the Sea Wolf, he was as bewildered by the events in Rome as was his copper haired companion, who saw all her careful plans collapse so much like a house of cards with the appearance of the corpse of one Francesco Barberini. She needed a full day to come up with a compromise, and so a full sennight after the Cardinal-Inquisitor died in a puddle of piss, blood and vomit, did the Sea Wolf address his flock:

"Good people of the Most Serene Republic and the many visitors among you, of whom I am but one. The events in Rome are too shocking to contemplate. Much too shocking. But I think they fell upon us because we are without a strong leader. Our Holy Mother Church has a Vacant Seat. If we do not fill it, then do we not invite disturbances? If we are not unified by a strong leader, then are we not asking for our differences be exploited by others? If we are to prevent more shedding of good Catholic blood, then we must convene a conclave and elect a new Holy Father! But as Rome now appears to be too unsafe, we cannot in good conscience ask princes of our Church to journey there to cast their vote. No, no, no. We must hold a conclave in a safe and sound place..."

At this the crowd roiled in murmur as the more intelligent among them could see where this went, but still dare not hope for what would transpire next.

"And I can think of no safer place than right here, in Genoa!"

This was met with cheers and screams and celebrations of such sort that some of the more aristocratic minded families feared a peasant revolt among the excited mobs of Genoa and had their villa gates shut closed and armed their amused servants. But no rebellion came, and soon even the aristos saw the benefit of a Genoese conclave and so it was proclaimed by all ruling bodies in the good city of Genoa.


The declaration was not met with universal cheer in all parts of Italies, for Genoa was still considered an informal part of the Spanish Empire and as such, more than a few French minded man in the Curia thought Genoese conclave could only produce a Spanish puppet to sit upon St. Peter's throne. But to such troubles we shall return in due course, for lost among the excitement was the fate of Franciotti. Being an excitable and not entirely serious sort, they judged the events in Rome as good signal as any to launch their takeover of Lucca. It went about as well as you can imagine such an enterprise would go, 1,500 armed louts attempting to arrest Franciotti enemies while declaring the salvation of a republic not in need of saving. The Mansi family led the counter revolt and soon Franciotti were cut down in the streets as dogs and drowned as unwanted kittens. Cardinal Marco Antonio Franciotti fled the villa for the dubious safety of Rome, hoping to find a place by the side of Antonio Barberini, with whom he was on friendly terms, though more than a lifetime ago.


When Mansi led forces reached the villa housing weary but somewhat defiant Ashley and terrified Salvatore Spadaforte, they ransacked the place and though more than a few scullery and kitchen maids were forced to endure the untender ardor of their roughhewn captors. At first sign of approaching assault to her own body, Lady Ashley stepped forward and declared in a shrill and broken, but understandable, sub-dialect of Tuscan then practiced near Lucca, that she was sister to the Great Sea Wolf, Agostino of Australia.

This stopped her would be rapists in their tracks, though some were disinclined to believe her, but the fear held, and soon as Mansi family member was found, pulled off an unfortunate daughter of the now killed gardener, told to pull up his hose and bid to authenticate the familial claim of trembling with rage (and now more than a little scared) Ashley. The distaff Mansi did not know the Sea Wolf by sight, nor did he know of his relations, but he spoke English and all knew the Sea Wolf was once English before being claimed by Genoese. The distaff Mansi spoke a few words foreign with the strange woman in the villa, though discretion was to be best, and told his brave fellows to leave the woman alone, but to make it up to them, gave the daughter of the gardener and let them loot the art gallery upstairs. Mollified, the hired bandits turned liberators moved on, and Ashely vomited in relief and shuddered in the arms of no less relieved and even more scared Salvatore.

"We must escape, Sal. We must escape. We must escape now. Before they change their mind, or try to take us hostage. Go on, find us a pair of horses. Go. Go on. Go now."

This Salvatore attempted, but was stopped by a drunken Mansi hired oaf who was quite angry that he could not find a woman to use in the house that was not already taken by two dozen of his fellows, and so he knifed Sal in the kidneys twice, and left his yelping, bleeding corpse to stalk off in search of wine.