The Mosaic Crimes: A Dante Alighieri Mystery [Paperback]

Set in Florence in 1300, Leoni's absorbing historical features Italy's premier poet, Dante Alighieri as sleuth. Master mosaicist Ambrogio, who was at work in a ruined church, is found suffocated and disfigured—his head encased in a layer of caustic quicklime. Dante, plagued with migraines, resentful of Boniface VIII's attempts to consolidate papal power and generally irascible throughout, embarks on a solo investigation. At a seedy tavern, Dante encounters a group of intellectuals known as the Third Heaven, who meet secretly to discuss art and be entertained by an exotic dancer, Antilia. Despite the distraction of the alluring Antilia, Dante conceives intriguing theories of how victims attract killers and how illness serves as punishment for sin. Leoni's first publication in English is a well-researched labyrinth of medieval Italian history and politics. (Feb.)
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"Leoni''s first publication in English is a well-researched labyrinth of medieval Italian history and politics." (Publishers Weekly )

Florence, June 1300. The body of an artist, his face covered in quicklime, is discovered next to the mosaic he had almost completed. Dante Alighieri, the newly appointed prior of the city of Florence who will one day author the Inferno, is on the case in his first official investigation. Obscure clues lead him on a trail full of intrigue. What was the secret that might have been revealed had the artist lived to complete his work? Was it an alchemists formula to transform lead into gold? Or the identity of an heiress to the Swabian throne, whose rumored arrival could upset the political aspirations of Pope Boniface, Dantes nemesis? Soon Dante comes to know the learned men who make up the so-called Third Heaven. Scholars of various disciplines, they appear to be increasingly linked to the mosaicists murder and the corrupt underbelly of the respected, cultured city of Florence.

GIULIO LEONI won the Premio Tedeschi for best new crime novel in 2000. He lives in Rome.

Anne Milano Appel is a contributor for Houghton Mifflin Harcourt titles including: "The Mosaic Crimes".

1 Florence, June 15, 1300, toward midnight HE HAD filled several sheets of paper with his fine script, and now the candle on the table burned low. Several hours must have passed since he had started writing his account. He broke off to read over what he had set down. He felt drained. A migraine pounded in his temples, and sleep was still a long way off. Of course, this is how it is. The opposite theory defies reason and the facts, he muttered, passing a hand across his forehead. On the table stood a pitcher and two goblets. He poured water from the pitcher into one of the goblets until it overflowed, spilling to the ground, where it formed a puddle and then a little stream that trickled along the irregular bricks until it seeped into a crack and disappeared from view. It flows downward. It must flow downward, he said aloud. And the ghost that stood before him nodded in agreement. OUTSIDE, something broke the perfect silence of the night. Heavy steps approached his door, accompanied by a metallic din like the rattling of tin platesor naked swords. His hand flew to the dagger that he always carried with him, in a pocket concealed inside his garment. Armed men at his door, at that hour of night. How much time had passed since the curfew bell had sounded? His eyes sought a sign, any sign that would restore his sense of time, but the dark sky beyond the narrow window showed no trace of dawn. He rose and extinguished the candle, then crouched beside the doorjamb, holding his breath. Outside, the clanking continued, a sound like soldiers milling about. His hand tightened around the handle of his weapon. He heard two dull thumps at the door, and then a harsh voice calling his name. Messer Durante? Dante Alighieri, poet of Italy and now prior of Florence, bit his lip, uncertain what to do next. San Piero should be under the watch of the priory guards, especially at night. The ceremony in which he had been formally invested had just taken place two days ago. Were those scoundrels betraying him already? Messer Durante, are you in there? Open the door. He must not hesitate. Perhaps his powers were required for the public good. He hastened to don the stiff square biretta cap with its long veil, and put the gold signet ring engraved with lilies on his index finger. Then, after carefully arranging the folds of his garment to resemble a Roman toga, such as he had seen on the statues in Santa Croce, he lifted the latch. A short, thickset man stood before him, dressed in chain mail that fell to below his knees. Over it, instead of the usual tabard with its emblazoned lily, he wore a coat of armor made of metal plates joined by leather thongs. His head was encased in a cylindrical helmet, like those worn by crusaders. A sword was strapped to his shoulder, and two daggers made a fine display on his girdle. What do you want, you rogue? Dante spoke harshly. It is forbidden to go about the city at this hour. Only brigands and pickpockets dare to violate t