Michael White - The Medici secret

Florence, 4 November 1966

When the warden of the Medici Chapel, Mario Sporani's eyes snapped open at 5.45 a.m. and he heard the shutters of the bedroom window smash against the wall of the building, he thought the world was coming to an end. Instantly awake, words from Revelations shot through his brain: ' And the serpent cast out of his mouth water as a flood after the woman, that he might cause her to be carried away of the flood.'

For a moment he thought he was trapped in a vivid nightmare, but then the wooden shutters flew back so hard they shattered the glass of the bedroom window, sending glistening shards across the room. The rain was slamming against the building with such force he thought the old stone would crumble and the entire structure might collapse. This was most certainly no dream. In an instant, he was out of bed and pulling his wife Sophia through the doorway and along the corridor leading to their baby's room. He could hear their son screaming above the pandemonium of the storm. Sophia snatched him from his cot and tried to soothe him.

'Sophia, you take Leo and stay in the back room, shutter the windows and lock them. I'll bring you a quilt and a torch. Then I must go to the chapel' 'But Mario, you can't go out in this.'

'I must,' he replied. 'God only knows what damage has been caused already. The burial chamber could flood; and the bodies'

He headed for the door. A few moments later, he was back with a bottle for the baby, a torch, some bread and the quilt from their bed. Mario kissed his wife and child. Turning, he ran out and locked the door before speeding along the hall, down the narrow wooden staircase, so dark he could hardly see the steps in front of him, and into the corridor leading to the front door.

The door almost knocked him over as he opened the latch and the wind bellowed into the hallway. He left the door pinned to the wall unable to move it back, and, his head down, took two slow steps on to the stoop. It was black outside. Storm clouds had blotted out the moon and it was obvious there was no electricity.

As Mario peered around the edge of the entrance to his building, the sky was lit up by an enormous lightning bolt. The entire street was awash. Muddy water rushed by, knee deep. It stank of sewage. He saw a bicycle wheel whirl along Via Ginori towards Piazza San Lorenzo. Taking a deep breath, he forced his way into the water.

The cold made him gasp. He couldn't be certain of his footing and the pavement under his boots felt slimy. There was nothing to hold on to except the damp brickwork and stone of the buildings. The sky lightened a fraction and the moon's rays broke through, casting a faint hollow light, just enough for him to make out the contours of Via Ginori and the walls of the Basilica di San Lorenzo ahead.

Mario tried to move faster but it was hopeless. He crept against the current an inch at a time. He had to pin himself against the wall, as a branch then a tyre, an empty box and a dustbin were swept past him by the wind before colliding with a building or landing haphazardly in the rushing mud.

By the time he reached the corner where Via Ginori met Via dei Pucci he was exhausted and covered in mud. His cheeks were stinging from the freezing cold and he could no longer feel his toes. The usually busy main street was deserted. The same brown sludge ran along the thoroughfare splashing up against the ancient stonework on either side. From far off, Mario heard a crash and the grinding of metal, followed by a scream. As he stared dumbstruck at the devastation, another lightning bolt ripped across the sky and the rain turned to hailstones that ricocheted off the roofs, and hit his face.

He pushed on across the main street finding a little shelter from the hail under the shadow of the basilica. Here the current was more powerful and it took all his strength to resist it. But then, as he approached the doors to the chapel, another branch whirled towards his head. He ducked, but too late. The wood smashed into his face and he fell backwards into the torrent.

The mud rushed over him spinning him around under the surface. Something hard jabbed him in the ribs, then he was scrambling to his feet, trying to find some purchase in the ooze. He almost made it, but his footing gave way and he found himself in the water again with a mouthful of mud. He spat it out in disgust and flailed around, suddenly terrified. With his right hand, he clutched at a metal ring in the wall of the basilica. He held on for dear life and pulled himself up, spluttering and gasping for air, a foul taste in his throat.

He was almost at the entrance to the chapel and could just about pull himself along, grasping the wall. Manoeuvring himself carefully around a buttress of stone, he caught his first glimpse of the chapel doors. They had been ripped off their hinges and water was cascading inside.

With renewed determination, Mario ploughed through the torrent towards the entrance and down the half-dozen stone steps that led to the main floor of the crypt. Here the water was lapping around his calves; it was getting deeper and detritus was being carried in with the brown-grey water tumbling over the doorway and rushing down the steps. Just inside the doorway was a wall unit containing a torch and an axe. Smashing the glass, he grabbed the torch.

He almost slipped on the stone but made it to the floor of the main room. The sound of crashing water echoed from the low, arched ceiling. Around the perimeter stood monuments to over fifty of the long-dead Medici family buried in simple stone caskets under the floor. These memorials were mounted above floor level, but the water was rising and it would soon be lapping at the statues and ornate sarcophagi. But even this wasn't Mario Sporani's primary concern. Far more worrying was the possibility the water could find a way beneath the floor into the actual burial chambers. He must do everything he could to stop that happening. Mario splashed towards the altar, a raised area at the back of the crypt. There stood two huge stone angels perched on either side of a marble platform. Behind that was the entrance to the Medici family vault.

Mario moved as fast as he could through the freezing water towards the altar. The trapdoor into the burial chambers was surprisingly light and yielded easily. Inside, he could see a ladder. Probing into the gloom with his torch he could just make out rungs dropping away into the void. Water tumbled in ahead of him and he could hear it slap on to the stone floor below. Moving as fast as he could, he lowered himself into the hole and pulled the door down over his head. The seal was not perfect and water continued to flow down the ladder and into the chamber.

Moments later, Mario was on the floor of the chamber casting the torch beam about the ancient walls and the rows of stone alcoves along each side. The air was rank with mould, old earth and decay, but he was familiar with these and they no longer bothered him. Then he heard an ominous crack. Spinning round, he saw a block of stone move away from the wall and crash on to the floor. Water gushed in.

Mario was almost thrown off his feet. Energised by primal fear, he clambered up on to a shelf of stone immediately behind him. He could see, a short distance away, the opening into one of the burial alcoves and the edge of a shroud, frayed and grey. Then came another crash as a second stone fell, splashing water high up the walls of the chamber. His torch slipped from his grip into the water. He watched it sink and then abruptly snap off. The room was completely black. A voice was yelling in his head: He was an idiot to come down here. What possible good could he do? And now, the voice insisted, he was going to die here. He would join the dead all around him.