Sabina

by C. De Melo

  “You can follow whomever you choose and go to Hell.”

  “I’m no longer the wicked man you once knew, Sabina.”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t change what you did to me. I’ll never forgive you, nor will I ever forget.”

  Defeated, Marco walked back toward the villa. As Sabina watched him go, she began to tremble and cry.

  One of the guards whispered, “Do you want us to follow him?”

  The other added, “We can take care of him discreetly.”

  She would not stoop to murder, no matter how tempting. “That won’t be necessary. Please take me home now.”

  Sabina walked away, her eyes drawn to the villa. She thought of the man dying within it. Lorenzo her friend, Lorenzo her protector, Lorenzo the man. She would never forget him for as long as she lived.

  ***

  Lorenzo de’ Medici died on the ninth of April 1492, at the age of forty-three. Sabina later learned that Savonarola had been summoned by Lorenzo to hear his final confession. This sudden change of heart on his part came as a surprise to many.

  Florence was left in the hands of twenty-one-year-old Piero de’ Medici, who had already acquired the nickname of Piero Sfortunato for his “unfortunate” lack of ability to successfully complete any project. Piero’s Roman wife, also member of the Orsini family, was a coarse woman who didn’t fit in with Florentine society.

  In December of that same year, Camelia’s husband died. Sabina made it a point to visit her widowed friend often in order to lift her spirits. A few weeks after Signore Adolfo’s death, she received a letter from Tutor John informing her that Thaddeus had died only a few weeks before James’s wife delivered a healthy son. The irony was almost comical, and Sabina didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Later that night, in the privacy of her study, she reread the letter then tossed it into the flames within the hearth. “I hope you’re happy now, James,” she whispered as she watched the parchment blacken and burn.

  “Mother?”

  She turned around to see her daughter standing in the doorway. “What are you doing up at this late hour? You should be in bed.”

  “I can’t sleep.” Anne noticed the letter burning and asked, “Is that the letter from England? I heard the servants talking about it this afternoon.”

  “I have some unpleasant news. Your grandfather is dead.” Anne stared at her mother blankly, unsure of what to do or say. Sabina continued, “Also, you now have a half-brother.”

  “That whore finally bore my father a son?”

  “Anne!”

  Shocked by her own outburst, Anne covered her mouth with her hand. “Forgive me, Mother.” She then burst into tears. “He’ll never want to see me again now that he has his precious son.”

  Stunned, Sabina asked, “You wish to see your father? I thought you were happy here.”

  “I am, but I sometimes miss him. Surely, you can’t fault me for that!”

  Anne’s words pierced Sabina’s heart like an arrow. Despite the contempt she harbored for James, he had always been a good father. “I don’t fault you, Anne. Calm yourself. I’ll write to him and arrange for your swift and safe return, if that’s what you want.”

  Anne ran out of the room and locked herself in her bedchamber. Sabina knocked on the door, but she refused to open it. Having heard the commotion, Teresa poked her head into the hallway.

  “Is everything all right, Signora?”

  Sabina sighed tiredly and moved away from the door. “I’ve received news of the earl’s death. Also, James’s wife bore a son. Anne admitted that she misses her father, but believes he’ll forsake her in favor of his son. I hate to see her suffering. I don’t know what to do at this point.”

  “It’s difficult for a child to comprehend the follies of adults,” Teresa observed. “Don’t worry. When she’s older, she’ll understand better.”

  “She’s so stubborn and rebellious.”

  “Passionate and caring, too. The traits of her mother. Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll fix Anne a soothing draught in the meantime. I’ll make one for you, too.”

  Throughout the years, Teresa had become more of a friend than a servant. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Sabina undressed and studied her naked body in the looking glass. Despite having had a child and being thirty-four years of age, her figure had changed little during the last fifteen years. She was still slim and shapely with firm breasts and smooth legs. Shivering, she put on her shift and got under the warm covers.

  She stretched out on the bed and, to her surprise, she thought of Tommaso. Life was carefree and pleasant when he and Lorenzo were alive. She treasured the memories of them almost as much as she treasured the memories of Massimo.

  Cursing softly, she tried to think of something else, but it was no use. No matter how hard she tried to prevent them, thoughts of Massimo always managed to sneak their way into her head. She had never stopped loving him, even after all these years. Admitting this fact, after what he did, was not only difficult but also humiliating. The brief time they spent together was amazing and unlike anything she had ever known.

  What if I tried to find him?

  It was a tempting notion. Over a decade had passed since she had seen or heard from Massimo. For all she knew, he could be dead.

  I could send a spy…

  After all, her servants were discreet and loyal.

  What if your spy returns with news that Massimo is alive and well?

  Teresa came into the room and handed Sabina a steaming cup.

  “How is Anne?” Sabina inquired before taking a cautious sip.

  “I sat with her until she fell asleep.”

  “Good. She is resilient.”

  “Like her mother.”

  “There is something I want to do.” Sabina hesitated. “I want to know what became of Massimo Reni.”

  Surprised, Teresa said, “I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “I’ll send a spy.”

  “Have you forgotten how badly he hurt you?”

  “I must know if Massimo is dead or alive.”

  “He doesn’t seem to care if you’re dead or alive.”

  The words hit Sabina hard. “That’s true.”

  “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I don’t wish to see you in pain again. He was a scoundrel for lying and abandoning you.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time on him.”

  “Nor should I, yet this is something I must do.”

  “You still love him,” Teresa accused. “Even after what he did?”

  “The heart is a treacherous thing.”

  Teresa shook her head in dismay.

  Sabina continued, “I need to find a trustworthy spy. Of all the servants, who do you think would be the best for the job?”

  “Simone or Iacopo.”

  Iacopo was too old. Simone was one of her guards. He was quiet and intelligent with a military background.

  The next day, Sabina summoned Simone to her study.

  “Please sit,” she said to the burly young man, indicating a chair.

  Simone sat down and clasped his hands together, his hazel eyes taking in every detail of the room.

  “I have an important task that needs to be carried out with the utmost of caution and secrecy. Not even the other servants must know.”

  He frowned and leaned forward in his seat. “Do you want me to kill that impertinent monk?”

  “Ah, no. I want you to gather information about a man, a Roman. I need to know if he’s still alive, if he’s still married, where he is, what he’s doing…I want to know everything about him.” As an afterthought, she added, “And his wife.”

  “As you wish, Signora.”

  Sabina handed him a piece of parchment with Massimo’s full name and the address of his Roman villa. “He was cousin to Clarice Orsini, so it should not be too difficult a task.”

  “I’ll do my best.”
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br />   “I know you will. You must depart as soon as possible,” she said, handing him a heavy purse. “Take this money for your expenses. Keep the rest as payment.”

  Simone returned to Florence two weeks later and was admitted directly into his mistress’s private quarters.

  “You found him?” Sabina demanded.

  “He’s alive and living in the villa.”

  Too nervous to sit, she paced the room. “Is he still married?”

  “Yes, but they live separate lives.”

  “Does he have a lover?” Simone shook his head and she asked, “What about his wife? Does she have a lover?”

  “Michela lives with her parents in Rome, but it’s rumored that she’s in love with a Sicilian. Her father tried annulling the marriage because he despises his son-in-law, but the Church refused to grant them a divorce.”

  “Did you speak with Massimo?”

  Simone’s eye followed his mistress from one side of the room to the other. “I thought you wanted me to be discreet and not be seen or heard.”

  Sabina nodded. “You did the right thing.”

  “May I give you a personal observation?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Signore Massimo appears to be a very sad and lonely man.”

  After her meeting with Simone, Sabina went to her bedchamber and locked the door. Anne was busy with her lessons and Teresa had gone to the market. She stared out the window at the pearl gray sky. Thunder clouds in the distance threatened rain. Two crows landed on a nearby branch and cawed loudly.

  “Mendi,” Sabina whispered, suddenly nostalgic for her odd pet that was long dead.

  What am I to do?

  Massimo was obviously in an unhappy situation and she felt sorry for him, but she was also in an unhappy situation, and where were his spies? Why did he not seek her out? Or, at the very least, send a letter? Did he not love her at all? Surely, no one could act that convincingly.

  Sabina instructed Teresa to watch over Anne for the next few days, then left Florence in the company of her two guards. By the time she arrived at Massimo’s villa in Rome, she had second thoughts about her hasty decision. Memories of that blissful summer rushed through her mind like a tidal wave and she trembled with nervous anticipation.

  “Are you all right?” Simone asked when Sabina hesitated to descend from the carriage.

  She nodded and gave him her hand. When he moved to follow her to the front door, she said, “No, I wish to go alone. Wait here.”

  It was cold and a light drizzle began to fall. Her fur-lined cloak was warm and she tightened it around her shoulders. Determined, she took hold of the brass ring and knocked. It was too early for bedtime but too late for receiving uninvited guests. The door opened and it took Sabina a moment to recognize an older looking Leo.

  “Signora Sabina!”

  “Greetings, Leo. I have come to see your master. Is he here? I know it’s late…” she said, trailing off. “My men are outside.”

  “I’ll see that they receive a hot meal and some wine at once.” Leo’s lips stretched into toothy grin. “My master will be very happy to see you. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “No—I mean, I would prefer to surprise him. It’s important for me to see his reaction. Surely, you understand.”

  “He’s reading in his study.”

  Sabina’s hands shook and her heart raced as she walked toward the study. She stopped outside the open doorway and peered into the room. A sliver of Massimo’s profile was visible as he sat reading by the light of a single candle. Like herself, he had aged little. Suddenly, he glanced up from his book and caught sight of her in the doorway.

  “My God, Sabina!” His eyes narrowed. “Is it really you? Or has my loneliness driven me to madness?”

  “It is I, Massimo.”

  He stood, wearing an expression of pure shock mingled with joy. It was the latter expression that made her run into his open arms. They embraced for what seemed like a small eternity. He inhaled the scent of her hair and pressed her against his body.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, his voice laden with relief. “I’ve missed you more than you’ll ever know. Forgive me, my love. Please forgive me, even if I have not yet forgiven myself.”

  She had rehearsed what to say but after hearing the heartfelt remorse in his voice, her wounded pride no longer mattered. “Why didn’t you contact me?” she asked when he pulled away to look down at her face.

  “Lorenzo was furious. He warned me never to step foot in Florence again on penalty of death.”

  “You could have sent a letter.”

  “Lorenzo strictly forbade me to have any contact with you. I think it was because he loved you and felt jealous that you shared my bed and not his.”

  “You know he died this past spring.”

  “All of Europe knows.”

  “You could have come to Florence after his death.”

  “Why? As far as I knew, you were married and living in England.”

  “Did Lorenzo or Clarice tell you of my marriage?”

  “No, I spoke to your man, Iacopo.”

  “What? When?”

  “A few months after your departure. I had managed to sneak into Florence to see you and offer you the explanation you so greatly deserved. Needless to say, I was devastated when he told me the news.”

  “All these years so needlessly wasted,” she lamented.

  “My conscience has been weighing on me ever since.”

  “You could have told me you had a wife when I came to stay with you in Rome,” she pointed out. “You should have been honest with me. After all, I thought we were not only lovers but also good friends.”

  “I didn’t want you to think poorly of me. That was selfish on my part and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I have never loved my wife and she outright despises me. We stopped sharing a bed long before I met you.”

  “Then why should she care if you keep a mistress?”

  “Pride. Michela is a most arrogant and spoiled creature. She cannot stomach the idea of sharing her husband with another woman. Since her family has wealth and prestige, I must be her loyal dog. My father and her father were friends at one time, and my marriage was arranged to secure my family’s financial future. We had lost our fortune, you see. My wife threatened to cut off all money to my family if I continued to see you, and I couldn’t let my loved ones fall into ruin.”

  “Dear God, Massimo, I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime! Why did you not come to me with your predicament?”

  “I’m practically owned by one woman and her money. I didn’t want to be in the same predicament with you. I do have some pride.”

  Having grown up as an impoverished noble herself, she understood completely. “What now?”

  “Well, now I live here in exile. My father-in-law wishes me dead so his precious daughter can remarry her wealthy Sicilian lover. He’s an older man who will increase their fortunes and political ties. I think he has kept me alive because of Lorenzo.”

  “Now that Lorenzo is dead, your life may be in serious danger.”

  “I often think it’s only a matter of time before he hires an assassin to get rid of me. He’s already banished me from society. I want to leave, but my family will suffer if I cause my wife any embarrassment. The only way he would continue to help my family is if I die, and, believe me, the thought of ending my miserable existence has crossed my mind a hundred times.”

  “I thought your father and your father-in-law were friends.”

  “They were, but my father is long dead and circumstances have changed drastically.”

  “And your mother?”

  “It’s because of her and my sister that I remain here.”

  “Your ties with the Orsini family can help you, no?”

  “We are distantly related; Clarice’s uncle married my cousin. We grew up near each other and socialized within the same circles. There was more friendship between us than blood ties. Be
sides, she’s dead.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? Do you truly understand why I deceived you?”

  She looked into his eyes and replied, “You can put your conscience to rest now. I forgive you, Massimo.”

  “Thank you,” he said softly, then paused. “What of your marriage? Are you happy? Is your husband here visiting Tuscany with you?”

  “My husband divorced me when I could not provide him with a son.”

  “He is a fool.”

  “Yes, he is. I have a beautiful daughter named Anne. She and I are living in Florence now.”

  “I would love to meet her someday.”

  There was an awkward silence as he stared at her intently. She felt foolishly aware of her disheveled appearance in that moment. She had been traveling in a coach for two days before barging in on Massimo.

  Closing the gap between them, he inquired, “May I kiss you?”

  Sabina nodded. It was not long before the fiery passion they shared all those years ago reignited. When she felt his hands undoing the ties of her bodice, she pulled away and shook her head.

  He stopped. “Forgive me—”

  She placed her fingertips against his lips to silence him. “I want to be sure you’re never going to abandon me again.”

  “I will hurt myself before I hurt you again.”

  Without further words, Massimo lifted Sabina in his arms and carried her to his bedchamber. Like two hungry young lovers, they made love for most of the night.

  Before they fell asleep at dawn, he whispered, “Do you think we have made up for the lost time?”

  Despite being totally spent, she replied, “No.”

  The sun was high in the sky when they finally awoke. Both were ravenously hungry for food and for each other. A servant came in with bread, cheese, fruit, and wine. They ate and lounged in bed afterward.

  Sabina sighed contentedly. “You must pack your things and return with me to Florence.”

  Massimo’s face fell. “I can’t do that…”

  “To hell with your father-in-law and your spoiled wife!”

  “What about my mother and my sister?”

  “They can come to Florence, too.” He shook his head and she said, “What’s the problem? My money is as good as your wife’s money.”