Sabina

by C. De Melo

  “What are you doing, Sabina?”

  Lifting the palm toward Cecilia, she replied, “This man has never known a day of hard work in his life. Who is he?”

  “I have no idea,” Cecilia replied, turning her attention to an old woman who began to scream in pain.

  Sabina studied the mysterious man. Could he be a member of nobility? If that was the case, he would be in his own fine bed attended by the best physicians, not lingering in a hospital that serviced the poor.

  The man’s breathing was shallow and he was covered in a film of perspiration. Touching his forehead, she realized he was burning with fever. She quickly procured a cool, wet cloth and applied it to his brow.

  Sabina left the man’s side and aided her sister with the care of the old woman, who was in the throes of death. With so many people needing medical attention, the dead were disposed of quickly in order to make room for the living. Sabina left her sister’s side and walked toward one of the hospital workers in charge of admitting new patients.

  Cecilia caught up with her. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to know about that man. He shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why? He’s young and strong, and will heal quickly. It’s the old and weak we should focus on first.”

  Sabina ignored her sister and interrogated the worker. She discovered that a passing merchant had found the man in a dark alley and had brought him to the hospital on his horse. Apparently, he had been stabbed on his left side, most likely robbed, and left for dead. Like the proverbial Good Samaritan, the merchant had provided the hospital caretakers with a few coins for the stranger’s care.

  “I’ll take over his care,” Sabina said.

  Cecilia looked taken aback. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I didn’t know Demetrio either.”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “It was a child with a particularly cruel circumstance. This man was simply robbed and stabbed. He’ll heal soon enough and be on his way.”

  Sabina removed several coins from the purse she kept hidden in the folds of her garment and instructed the worker to fetch a private physician. She took a seat by the man’s cot, admiring his angelic face while administering wet cloths to his hot forehead. The fever was no doubt due to an infection brewing in the stab wound. Suddenly, his lashes fluttered, but his eyes remained closed.

  She leaned closer. “Can you hear me? You’re in the Ospedale di Misericordia in Lucca. A physician will be here soon.”

  His right hand flinched. She re-wet the cloth and applied it to his brow once more, then slightly lifted the bandages to see the extent of the wound. The cut was not long, but it was deep and must have bled quite a bit.

  The man opened his amber eyes, making her shiver. She’d seen eyes like that only once before on a gypsy passing through town when she was a child.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked again.

  He stared into the distance for a brief moment, then slipped back into unconsciousness. She remained at his side until the physician arrived.

  “How long has he been like this?” the physician inquired while touching his forehead.

  “Someone brought him in this morning. He was left for dead.”

  The physician examined and cleaned the wound, then applied a poultice. Next, he removed a vial from his satchel and poured it down the man’s throat. “The medicine will soon take effect. Someone should sit with him until he awakens and get him to drink some water.”

  The man began sweating profusely shortly after the physician departed. Sabina tried to keep him cool with wet strips of linen, but it did little good. He then twitched and moaned in feverish delirium, compelling Sabina to take hold of his hand. It was late and she was very tired by the time his body stopped fighting the fever. He was no longer flushed and perspiring, and his skin felt much cooler to the touch.

  Sabina smiled wearily. “I knew you would win,” she whispered, wiping his face and neck with a damp cloth.

  The man’s eyes suddenly flew open. His irises were like glittering topaz gemstones. Startled, she accidentally dropped the cloth.

  They stared at each other before she reached for a cup of water. “You must be thirsty.” He said nothing as she placed the cup to his lips. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but was too exhausted to do so.

  “Don’t talk,” she said. “You need to save your strength.”

  The foxlike eyes remained locked on hers.

  “My name is Sabina Rossi. You were brought here after someone found you in an alley.” He nodded slightly and she continued, “You were stabbed, but you’ll survive.”

  An expression of relief and gratitude crossed his face. He closed his eyes and was asleep almost immediately. She stood up, stretched, and looked around. The hospital was dark and only one candle burned by a bed where an old man was dying and a priest had been summoned by his family to perform the last rites.

  Sabina had seen enough sickness and death to last a lifetime. She felt as though she had to get out of the hospital as soon as possible, but it was late at night. It would be unsafe to walk the streets alone at this hour. Sighing, she sat back down and fell asleep in the chair.

  Sabina opened her eyes and the man was gone. She looked around, feeling disoriented and stiff from having slept on a hard surface in an upright position. She stood, smoothing the skirt of her gown.

  Catching sight of a hospital worker, she demanded, “Where is the man who got stabbed?”

  “He’s gone, Signora. Two servants arrived at dawn inquiring about their master. Apparently, the man is of some importance and had been missing since last night. The servants were dressed as foreigners and could barely speak Tuscan.”

  She frowned. “And you did not bother to wake me? Did you at least get his name?”

  The worker began tapping the side of his head with his finger as if trying to remember. “For the love of Saint Peter, I can’t recall it. The name was foreign. German? English? Forgive me, Signora.”

  Sabina left the hospital feeling extremely tired and slightly frustrated that she wouldn’t be able to speak with her mysterious patient. She walked back to the convent in the cold morning air, thinking that perhaps it was God’s wish. She stopped in her tracks. God’s wish? She shook her head and smiled. Cecilia was beginning to rub off on her.

  On the tenth day of February, a letter arrived from Teresa stating that Angelina Bardi was officially betrothed to a nobleman from Venice. Sabina breathed a sigh of relief. True to his word, Lorenzo had taken care of the problem. There was still no word of his return from Naples.

  The following day, an unexpected visitor arrived at the Convento di Santa Lucia. Cecilia was in her cell reading the Bible by the window. Despite the cold wind outside, she kept one of the shutters open for light since burning candles during the day wasn’t allowed. Sabina had gone out to buy various medicines for the hospital and was expected to return shortly. Cecilia heard a knock on the door and assumed it was her sister.

  “Excuse the interruption,” said Sister Olivia from the doorway.

  “Nonsense, come in,” Cecilia said, closing the Bible. “I was expecting Sabina. Tell me, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you remember how I told you about my cousin Lisa—the one who died?” Cecilia nodded and she added, “You mentioned to me that you knew her husband, Marco.”

  “Yes, of course. How is he?”

  “He’s fine. He’s here, in fact.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, in the courtyard below. He’s waiting to see you.”

  Cecilia looked surprised. “How did he find out I was here?”

  “When my sister came to visit, I told her that you knew him. He was horrified to hear about your dear little Paolo.” Cecilia’s eyes watered at the mention of her son’s name and Sister Olivia regretted her words immediately. “Forgive me if I have upset you.”

  Cecilia composed herself. “Let us not keep Marco waiting.”

 
They both walked downstairs to the cloister garden.

  As soon as Marco caught sight of Cecilia, he smiled. “Sister Cecilia.”

  Although she never cared for him when he was wooing her sister, her opinion changed the moment she learned of his “godly calling.”

  “It’s good to see you, Marco,” she said. “Sister Olivia told me about your wife and child. Please accept my condolences on your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He looked to Sister Olivia. “Did she also tell you that I’m on my way to becoming a priest?”

  “She did, and I’m happy for you. There is no higher calling than the service of our Lord.”

  Marco shrugged. “It was either join the priesthood or remarry and continue to work hard in the fields.”

  Cecilia was taken aback. “You make it sound so easy. Surely, you must have prayed on the matter before coming to such a big decision and entering the seminary.”

  “I love God, so why not work for Him?” He paused, his face serious. “I was deeply saddened when I heard about Paolo and your father. Take comfort that they are both in Heaven with God.”

  She nodded as she bit back tears. “I do.”

  Changing the subject, he asked, “How is your sister?”

  “Sabina is staying here with me at the convent.” Marco’s eyes lit up in surprise, prompting her to add, “She needed a spiritual respite.”

  “I see,” he said dubiously. The Sabina he remembered would never stay in a convent of her own volition. “Is she all right?”

  Cecilia sighed sadly. “You know of the assassination attempt made on the Medici.”

  “Everyone knows. Giuliano was murdered during Easter Mass.”

  “My father and I were in Florence visiting Sabina, and we were in the cathedral when that happened. The violence and chaos following the attack claimed the lives of Tommaso Caravelli and my son.”

  Stunned, he offered, “I’m so sorry to hear this. It seems as though we have all suffered tragic losses.”

  “True, but we still have much to be thankful for.”

  “Is Sabina here? May I speak with her?”

  “She’s out purchasing curatives for the hospital and I don’t know when she’ll be back. You’re more than welcome to wait.”

  “Alas, I must leave this afternoon.”

  “Signora Sabina is very generous,” Sister Olivia interjected. “She arranged a wonderful Christmas feast.”

  “May God bless her,” Marco said. “Please convey my warm regards to your sister. Hopefully, our paths will cross in the future.”

  The nuns bade Marco farewell and he exited the convent with his mind still reeling. Turning a corner, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Sabina lugging a large basket down the street.

  She paused mid-step. “Marco?”

  “Sabina—I spoke with your sister only a moment ago! How are you?” Taking the basket from her hand, he added, “Please, let me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m in Lucca for the day, so I paid Sister Olivia a visit.”

  “I see.”

  He hesitated. “Cecilia informed me about Tommaso…I’m sorry.”

  “Apparently, neither one of us has managed to escape the last few years unscathed. I was sad to learn about your wife.”

  He nodded. “Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?”

  “Like you wanting to become a priest.”

  “Why not? It’s a profession like any other, only I answer to God rather than a man.”

  The Marco Alfani she knew was a carnal man, not a spiritual one. They arrived at the convent gates and she moved to retrieve the basket. “Well, I wish you all the best.”

  “This basket is heavy, I’ll take it inside for you,” he said, going through the gate. “Cecilia told me you were buying curatives for the hospital. That’s generous of you but very uncharacteristic.”

  She kept pace with him. “Are you implying that I’m uncharitable?”

  “Not at all. The Sabina I knew would mix her own concoctions.”

  She chuckled and allowed him to carry the basket into the refectory. “Thank you, Marco. You can set it down there.”

  Marco set the basket down on a table and admired the frescoed walls.

  Seeing this, she said, “You should see the frescoes in the chapel. They’re exquisite.” She regretted her thoughtless words instantly.

  Predictably, he inquired, “May I see them?”

  “I’m not sure if you’re allowed to go in there. The nuns are strict about having visitors, especially men.”

  Unlike the refectory, which opened onto the cloisters and was in plain sight, the chapel was down a long transept at the back of the church. It would be empty this time of day. As innocent as the situation was, the last thing she wanted to do was upset Mother Marcella by taking a man to such a secluded place.

  “Most of the nuns know me here. Besides, I’m currently enrolled at the seminary and soon to become a priest,” he reminded her. “Priests are allowed to walk wherever they choose within God’s houses.”

  He did have a valid point. What harm could come of showing him the lovely artwork? “Very well.”

  She led him to the chapel and hovered at the entrance as he looked at the vibrantly painted frescoes. He glanced at her on a few occasions, but she pretended not to notice.

  Marco eventually walked to where she stood. “Now that we’re alone, I’d like to ask you something. Did you ever think of me when you were married?”

  Sabina took a step backward. “That’s not a question for a future priest to be asking of a widow.”

  “Your tongue is as sharp as ever, I see.”

  “Sharp or not, it speaks the truth.”

  “I’m not a priest yet.”

  “No, but you will be soon.”

  “Does that upset you?”

  She debated running toward the church’s exit. “Why should it?”

  “Because then I will be lost to you forever.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Marco Alfani.”

  A shadow settled across his features. “Are you mocking me?”

  She laughed derisively. “Father Marco.”

  “You are mocking me.”

  “People won’t confess to you if they know about your bad temper.”

  His hands balled into fists and his face turned red. “My bad temper is nothing compared to your conniving character!”

  Sabina was shocked by this unexpected outburst of rage. “Forgive me if my teasing offended you.”

  “You offended me long ago when you willingly ran off to marry that old Florentine,” he said through clenched teeth.

  He was serious. She knew he harbored some resentment against her, but she had no idea of its extent. “I know your pride was wounded, but it’s not as if you and I were madly in love—”

  “Of course I loved you!”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Marco, I’m well aware that I was not the only girl you were satisfying yourself with. I know there were others. Did you love them, too?”

  “Yes, I satisfied my needs wherever I could—that’s what men do—but my heart was always yours.”

  Sabina shook her head dismissively. “None of this matters now.”

  Marco gripped her shoulders and forced her into a shadowy corner within the chapel. “Say the word and I’ll leave the seminary.” She struggled and he pushed himself against her body. “Tell me that you want me, and we’ll run away together.”

  “Stop speaking nonsense! You’re about to become a priest!”

  She felt him hardening. “Do you miss this?” he asked provocatively before nuzzling her throat. “I’ve thought of you so many times—of your body, your scent. No woman has ever compared to you.”

  “Please,” she cried as she wriggled to free herself from his embrace.

  Marco silenced Sabina’s protests with a rough kiss, so she bit his lip. His head drew back in pain. “Stop it! You can’t deny what we shared. You belong to me, do
you understand? You’ll always be mine.”

  She managed to free her arm and slapped him across his face as hard as she could. “I belong to no one!”

  He shook her so violently that she thought her teeth would shatter. “You prissy little bitch! You lifted your skirts for me countless times, and now you want to play the high and mighty lady?”

  “Marco, please,” she reasoned, truly frightened now.

  “Remember—if you hadn’t married Tommaso, you’d still be in Lucca playing the whore with me.”

  “Let go of me! What madness has taken hold of you? The nuns are expecting me and will come looking for me at any moment.”

  “Let them come,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer.

  “I’ll scream.”

  Extracting a handkerchief from his tunic, he gagged her with alarming speed. “I’m going to teach you the same lesson I taught the miller’s daughter when she said she wouldn’t have me.”

  Sabina’s eyes reflected horror when she realized his intention. She desperately tried to get away, but Marco was too strong. He spun her around and pressed her face against the frescoed wall before pinning her arms behind her back. She screamed into the gag.

  Placing his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Remember this?”

  Tears of indignant rage filled her eyes as he entered her and took his sexual pleasure against her will. When he was finished, he removed the gag and let go of her arms. Too stunned to speak, she slumped against the wall for support. In all the time she had known Marco, she had never imagined him capable of such a vile deed.

  He adjusted his clothing as if nothing happened. “You’d be wise to keep this to yourself,” he advised. “Given that we were so close at one time, no one will believe that what took place was not of your free will.”

  She shot him a seething look. “Get out of here, Marco.”

  For an instant, she thought she saw guilt in his eyes, but it was soon replaced by anger. “Pride and arrogance are sins, Sabina. Consider this a much-needed lesson in humility.”