Chapter Fifty-Three
January 7, 2013
South Beach, Florida
Just as the Emersons were preparing to leave their hotel suite for the pool, Gabriel’s cell phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. “It’s a FaceTime call from Vitali. I’d better take it.”
“We’ll be at the Center Pool.” Julia kissed her husband and pushed Clare in the stroller toward the door.
“Why not use our private pool, on the balcony?”
“Because there will be other mothers and children at the Center Pool. Clare might make a friend.”
“Right. I’ll find you shortly.”
Gabriel moved to the desk in their suite and answered the call. “Massimo, hello.”
“Good afternoon,” Dottor Vitali responded in Italian. He gestured to the dark-haired woman who sat next to him, wearing a very smart red suit.
“Professor Gabriel Emerson, I want to introduce you to Dottoressa Judith Alpenburg. She recently joined us from Stockholm and she is the expert on religious objects at Palazzo Pitti.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dottoressa.” Gabriel nodded, reaching for his glasses.
“And you. Please call me Judith,” she answered, her Italian lightly accented with Swedish. “I examined the memento mori you sent to us. It’s an exciting find.”
“Thank you, Judith.” Gabriel put on his glasses and quickly retrieved a notepad and his fountain pen. “Can you tell me more about it?”
“Certainly.” She put on a pair of white gloves and presented the small sculpture against a black velvet background. “This piece is very interesting. We tested the material, taking care not to damage the object, and discovered it is carved from elephant ivory. I would place the date of the object at about 1530. I will come back to the date in a moment.”
She turned the object over. “As you can see, along the collarbone of the head, we have an inscription in Latin, O Mors quam amara est memoria tua, which I would translate as O Death, how bitter is your memory. Do you recognize the quotation?”
“I don’t.”
“The quotation is from Scripture. This is the first line of Ecclesiasticus forty-one, which in the Vulgate begins, ‘O Mors quam amara est memoria tua.’”
“Interesting.” Gabriel resolved to look up the passage later.
“Similar items are on display in various museums, including the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. And the Victoria and Albert Museum in London has several excellent examples.
“In my opinion, your carving is of high quality. There are a lot of details, as you can see. Worms and toads are figured over the head. The face has an open mouth with exposed teeth, and there are folds of fabric covering the head. Leaves have been carved into the lower part of the object and it sits on a small circular pedestal. There is some damage to the piece—a crack in the head. But it is still a valuable and rare item. Certainly, one we would be proud to display.”
“Can you tell me anything about the provenance?”
Judith smiled eagerly. “Yes, this is very exciting. The object, which I believe to be a bead, has been pierced vertically, so it could be suspended from a chaplet—rosaries or prayer beads are more common terms for this. There is a maker’s mark on the bottom of the bead, which you can see.” She lifted the figure and revealed the bottom. “When I saw the mark, I realized I had seen it before. So I went through the items we have at Palazzo Pitti, but I didn’t find the same mark. However, when I went to Palazzo Medici Riccardi, I found something interesting.”
Judith placed a large photograph next to the bead. “In the Palazzo Riccardi museum, there is this chaplet that belonged to Alessandro de’ Medici, who was Duke of Florence from 1532 to 1537. Alessandro was thought to be of African heritage, which means that he was the first African head of state in the modern West. The chaplet was in his possession when he died and it eventually became part of the museum’s collection.
“However.” Judith’s blue eyes lit up with excitement. “As you can see from the photograph, the chaplet is missing a bead. In fact, it’s missing the largest bead at the end. I spoke with the archivist at the museum and he was unable to find a record of a missing bead. The chaplet came to the museum without it.
“But he pointed me to a letter written by Taddea Malaspina, Alessandro’s mistress, and she mentions the bead going missing. It was lost, until you sent it to us.”
Both Judith and Massimo smiled giddily through the screen.
“How do you know the bead I sent is the missing one?” Gabriel leaned closer to his cell phone, trying to get a better look at the photograph of the chaplet.
“The maker’s mark matches the mark on the opposite end of t