by C. De Melo
“Pity you were born a woman. You would have been an asset to the Republic.” She blushed and he continued, “Tommaso is a fortunate man.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’m fortunate that he trusts you in my company.”
“He has no reason not to trust me.”
Lorenzo stood and she followed him out of the room. “Speaking of Tommaso, I have some matters to discuss with him. I promise I won’t keep him long today. I’m sure you can entertain yourself in the meanwhile.”
Sabina went directly to the library while she waited for her husband to finish his business. It was not long before Tommaso was ready to escort her home.
“Where’s your journal?” he asked as they navigated the streets toward home. “You had it with you this morning.”
“I left it with Lorenzo.”
Tommaso’s mouth became a hard line, but he said nothing more.
Tommaso announced their imminent departure for Pisa the next day.
Sabina, who was reading in her study, looked up from her book. “Why are we going to Pisa?”
“My aunt lives there. She’s my only living relative, and I received news that she’s very ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I didn’t know you had an aunt.”
“My father’s only sibling. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Why is she living in Pisa?”
The Florentines hated the Pisans almost as much as the people of Lucca did.
“She married a wealthy Pisan in the shipping business. After he died, she remained because her life was already established there.”
“Why did she not attend our wedding?”
“She’s too old to travel.”
She closed her book. “Do you stay in contact with her?”
“You’re full of questions this morning, aren’t you? My aunt stopped corresponding with me almost two years ago when her fingers stiffened from old age. She refuses to dictate to a servant because she doesn’t want anyone to know her business.”
“She sounds like an interesting woman. What’s her name?”
“Donna Maddalena Moroni.”
Sabina smiled. “I look forward to meeting her.”
They departed for Pisa a few days later, accompanied by their personal servants and a pair of guards. During the short journey, Sabina marveled at the snowcapped mountains in the distance.
“That’s not snow,” Tommaso corrected. “Those are the quarries of Carrara. Many Florentine sculptors go there to select their marble.”
The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows by the time they arrived in Pisa. They were informed that Donna Maddalena was not feeling well and would see them in the morning. After being shown to their bedchambers, a servant brought them a cold meal and red wine.
Sabina woke up the next day and found Teresa in her room staring out the window with an expression of pure wonder on her face.
“Signora, you must see the view. Here, let’s get you washed up first,” Teresa said, carrying a basin of water and a linen towel toward the bed.
Sabina ran the damp cloth along her face and chest. “What is it?”
“I want it to be a surprise.”
Sabina finished her toilette, then went to the window. “Oh!”
Outside stood three of the most spectacular buildings she had ever seen. There was an enormous baptistery, a huge cathedral with a Moorish-inspired dome shaped like an onion, and a circular bell tower that leaned ever so slightly. All three were constructed of gleaming white marble that shimmered in the morning sunshine.
Sabina turned away from the view. “Quick, help me dress and take special care with my hair because I want to impress my husband’s aunt.”
Ah hour later, a servant led Sabina and Tommaso into a stuffy room hung with many tapestries. Donna Maddalena’s tiny form was propped up by several cushions heaped upon a great bed boasting a red velvet canopy. Seated beside the enormous bed was her nurse.
“Let’s see this new bride of yours, Tommaso,” Donna Maddalena said in a surprisingly loud voice after kissing her nephew. “Is this your fourth or fifth wife? I’ve lost count.”
“Third,” Tommaso replied. “Aunt, this is Sabina Rossi.”
“Come closer, child, so I can get a proper look at you.” She took hold of Sabina’s wrist with surprising strength and pulled her toward the bed. “My eyesight is not what is used to be, dear. Ah, there you are.” After a careful inspection, she turned to her nephew. “She is positively lovely.”
Tommaso smiled proudly. “Yes, I know.”
“Young enough to be your daughter, too,” the old woman murmured.
“What was that?” he asked.
She waved her papery hand dismissively. “Are you expecting, girl?”
“Expecting what?” Sabina asked.
Donna Maddalena raised an eyebrow. “Pretty, but not too bright.”
Tommaso glanced uncomfortably at his wife, hoping she would not take offense. He had warned Sabina beforehand of his aunt’s propensity for speaking her mind regardless of consequence.
Sabina felt foolish when she realized what the old woman meant. “Forgive me, I misunderstood. No, I’m not carrying a child—yet.”
“Why not? You’ve been married for several months. You should be pregnant by now. Do you realize how desperate my nephew is for an heir? Get to it, girl, and do your duty.”
“Unfortunately, God has not seen fit to bless my womb.”
“God has nothing to do with it,” the old woman snapped. Addressing Tommaso, she asked, “How long will you be staying in Pisa?”
“For as long as you will have us.”
“Then you would never leave,” she said coyly. “I expect you will show your wife our city’s pride and joy?”
“I have every intention of doing so.”
Donna Maddalena looked to Sabina. “Your name is familiar to me. I once knew a Bernardo Rossi, but that was long ago.”
“That was my grandfather’s name.”
Donna Maddalena shot Tommaso an accusatory look. “You failed to tell me that your new bride is from Lucca. All that stupid rivalry. I’m an old woman and life is too short to care about such ridiculous matters.”
“You do well to ignore it, aunt,” he said.
The old woman shifted her gaze to Sabina. “As for your grandfather, he and my late husband would spend hours at the gaming tables.” She paused and added slyly, “Bernardo liked placing big bets.”
Sabina shifted uncomfortably, hoping she would change the subject. Donna Maddalena looked at her knowingly and began to inquire about several Florentines. The old woman was hungry for gossip and Sabina dutifully provided a few snippets for her amusement.
Once Donna Maddalena had heard her fill of scandals, marriages, and deaths, she placed a birdlike hand to her brow. “I’m tired.”
“We’ll leave you to rest now,” Tommaso said before kissing his aunt’s forehead. Motioning for the nurse to follow him outside the room, he then asked the woman, “How bad is it?”
“Quite bad,” the nurse whispered. “According to the physician, she will not last another fortnight.”
Later that day, Tommaso accompanied his wife to Holy Mass in order to pray for his aunt’s soul. The striped Romanesque arches and enormous monolithic columns of Santa Maria Assunta took Sabina’s breath away. After the service, they climbed the bell tower.
“When was this tower built?” Sabina asked, gazing at the spectacular mountains in the distance.
“At the end of the twelfth century.”
“Why does it lean so?”
“According to some architects, it wasn’t properly constructed. Others say the soil underneath is not solid enough to withstand the weight.”
“Which theory do you support?”
“I think it may be a combination of both,” he replied. “It began leaning after the first three tiers were completed. The architect, Bonanno Pisano, was so ashamed that he simply abandoned the project and fled Pisa
. It took two more centuries to complete the project.”
“These are the most incredible buildings I have ever seen,” Sabina commented as they headed for the baptistery.
“Never say that in the presence of a Florentine,” he warned.
The baptistery, rumored to be the biggest in Europe, was as round as a drum. They hovered in the doorway and listened as several monks chanted inside the spacious interior. The acoustics were so impressive that Sabina got chills listening to the unified voices. She looked up at the ceiling to see the big hole that allowed the rain to fall and fill the large baptismal pool.
That evening, Donna Maddalena announced that she felt well enough to dine with them. Throughout the meal, the old woman regaled Sabina with home remedies to cure infertility and encourage conception.
The old woman slept throughout the following morning, allowing Tommaso to show his wife the University of Pisa and other noteworthy buildings. They stopped at a bakery so he could purchase some local pastries and Sabina’s mouth watered at the sight of them.
“I’d like one of each, please,” she said.
“How you manage to keep that stunning figure of yours is a mystery,” Tommaso said as he paid the baker.
They bit the flaky pastries and laughed when crumbs stuck to their mouths. Sabina was thoroughly enjoying her husband’s company and gave his cheek a spontaneous kiss.
He grinned. “What was that for?”
“I felt like it.”
She tore off another piece and stuffed it in her husband’s mouth, laughing as she did so.
Tommaso had not visited his wife’s bed since their arrival in Pisa out of respect for his aunt. That night, he did.
Two days later, Donna Maddalena’s nurse announced that her mistress had taken a turn for the worse. Tommaso was summoned and remained with his aunt for most of the morning as the physicians bled her by slashing her skin and securing leeches to the tiny cuts. The glossy black creatures greedily sucked her blood until they became engorged.
“How is she?” Sabina asked of Tommaso when he joined her for supper in the evening.
“The physicians have done all they can.”
“Your aunt is in God’s hands now.”
“She’s had a good life and will die at a ripe old age—may we all be so blessed. She told her nurse was that she ‘was ready to go to God.’ ”
Donna Maddalena Moroni went to God the next day, and everything she owned was bequeathed to her nephew. They were forced to remain in Pisa while Tommaso met with his aunt’s solicitors to sort things out.
It was almost April by the time they returned to Florence, and Tommaso was summoned to the Palazzo Medici shortly afterward. A new political matter had arisen during his absence that needed the Signoria’s immediate attention. Sabina accompanied him, hoping to see Lorenzo in order to retrieve her journal. Unfortunately, he was closed up in his study with meetings for the entire morning.
Sabina waited in the ladies’ quarters, a large area where women could await their escorts or simply enjoy one another’s company. The spacious, well-appointed rooms were located off the Medici chapel, affording both safety and privacy. Clarice and her ladies were present, as were many other women. Some were reading while others were engaged in needlepoint. Sabina sat alone by the fire fingering a tiny prayer book. When nobody was looking, she stood and discreetly exited the nearest doorway. She wandered toward the chapel, then beyond. To her good fortune, Lorenzo rounded the corner of the corridor and stopped at the sight of her.
“Sabina,” he said, surprised. “Tommaso failed to mention you were here. How good to see your pretty face again.”
“I was in the ladies’ quarters awaiting my husband.”
“What have you got there?” he asked, eyeing the prayer book.
She shrugged. “I would prefer Boccaccio, but…”
Smiling at her piquant humor, he said, “Well, I’ll leave you to the ladies, then.”
“Actually, I was hoping to see you.”
“I’m flattered. Come, I have something for you.”
Lorenzo led her to his study where he removed the red journal from his desk drawer. He also removed a book bound in blue leather.
“This is your new journal,” he said, handing her both books. “I had the leather dyed to my favorite shade of blue.”
“How thoughtful of you, Lorenzo. Thank you, it’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the craftsmanship.
“Gifting you a new journal perfectly sums up my opinion of your work.” He winked, adding, “I must go now. Don’t stay away so long next time.”
Clutching both journals to her chest, Sabina strolled down the picture gallery before rejoining the ladies. A heavy-set, middle-aged woman with a friendly face smiled as she entered the room.
“Signora Sabina Rossi?”
“Yes. Have we met?”
“No, but our husbands work closely together,” she explained. “My name is Camelia Cantini.”
“You are Signore Adolfo’s wife, are you not?”
Her face lit up. “I am.”
“I’ve heard my husband mention your name a few times. He speaks highly of you both. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Signora Camelia.”
“The pleasure is all mine, dear.” She sighed, casting a glance at the ladies. “I don’t come here often, you see. I’m getting old and prefer the comfort of my own home.”
Camelia possessed an open face and exuded warmth and sincerity. Sabina liked her instantly.
“I hear you enjoy literature—writing, in particular,” Camelia continued, changing the subject. Sabina’s face showed surprise, so she quickly added, “I saw Lorenzo with his nose in a red journal recently. When I inquired if he was reading the work of a new literary protégé, he replied that the journal belonged to you.” She paused. “Oh dear, I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“No, I…I didn’t expect him to tell anyone he was reading my work.”
“There was no one within earshot, I assure you. I’m certain he wouldn’t share such information with others.” Camelia reached out to touch the younger woman’s hand. “I’ve known Lorenzo since he was a lad, so he treats me like a trusted aunt. No harm done, dear.”
“I’m not exactly a literary protégé,” Sabina confessed.
“You are being modest, Signora.”
“Please, call me Sabina.”
Camelia smiled broadly. “Very well, Sabina. Lorenzo said your work is very good; I know it must be true.”
Sabina’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of her writing being described as “very good” by the most important man in Florence. “Lorenzo de’ Medici is kind to his friends.”
“Nonsense,” Camelia countered. “He is not one to flatter falsely.”
A man walked past the doorway and paused to peek inside the room. Tall, broad shouldered, and exceptionally handsome, he grinned at Camelia and approached them.
“Pardon me for interrupting, ladies,” he said with a gallant bow.
“Massimo!” Camelia cried. “How good to see you again.”
Sabina took in the man’s dashing attire and the thick gold chain which held his cloak in place. Dark, shoulder-length hair framed a face that could only be described as perfect. In fact, she was certain she had seen the classical profile sculpted on many of the city’s masterpieces.
“It’s wonderful to see you, too, Signora Camelia. I was on my way to meet with Lorenzo when I spotted you.” His eyes slid toward Sabina. “May I be introduced to your lovely companion?”
“This is Signora Sabina Rossi, wife of Tommaso Caravelli,” Camelia said, stressing the word “wife.”
He bent over Sabina’s hand, staring up at her through thick lashes.
Eyes as blue as the sea…
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Signora,” he said in a husky voice. “I am Massimo Reni, at your service.”
Sabina retracted her hand and they stared at each other in silence.
Camelia’s head turned from right to
left. Oh dear. “How long will you be staying in Florence, Massimo?”
“I plan to stay through Easter if my cousin will have me that long,” he replied, still gazing at Sabina.
Sabina averted her eyes for the sake of modesty and finally found her voice. “Who is your cousin?”
“Clarice Orsini,” he replied.
“Our dear Massimo is a Roman,” Camelia explained.
He looked at Camelia. “So are you, my dear lady.”
“True, but I married a Florentine. I’ve been away from my birth city for quite some time now, and almost consider myself more Florentine than Roman.”
“I’ve never been to Rome,” Sabina confessed.
“You should go,” Massimo said, eyeing her intently. “It’s one of the most amazing cities in the world.”
“Ah, the Eternal City,” Camelia said wistfully. “I’m long overdue for a visit.”
“Do you still have family in Rome?”
“Yes, a sister,” Camelia replied. “You are from Lucca, are you not?”
Sabina nodded.
“Do you still have family in Lucca?” Massimo inquired.
“Yes, my father, my sister, and my nephew.”
“I have only been to Lucca once,” Camelia said. “Charming city.”
“I have yet to see its charm. Perhaps someday I’ll be fortunate enough to have someone show me around,” Massimo said, smiling at Sabina in such a way that seemed to imply she would be perfect for the task.
Camelia gave him a reproving look, which he responded to with an impish grin. “If you will excuse us, Massimo. Signora Sabina and I were on our way to the garden to take in some fresh air. It was a pleasure to see you and I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
Taking the hint, Massimo inclined his head at them. “I can assure you the pleasure was entirely mine, ladies.”
Sabina allowed herself to be led away by Camelia. Against her better judgment, she peeked over her shoulder and met Massimo’s azure gaze before slipping through the doorway.
“He’s harmless, I assure you,” Camelia whispered. “Quite the charmer—clever and handsome, too! A young woman like you has to be careful around that one.”
Camelia sat on a bench beneath the shade of a fig tree and urged her new friend to sit beside her. The older woman enjoyed talking and soon dominated the conversation, contributing various tidbits of interesting gossip. Suddenly, she squeezed Sabina’s arm. “Look there,” she whispered. “I have not seen her in months.”