Gabriel was nowhere to be found.
“I’ll find you after.” He’d kissed her in their suite more than an hour ago and lowered his voice to a whisper. “See me in my office after class.”
Julia had trembled at his words, which brought her back to the command he’d given her on the very first class of his she’d attended.
He must be joking, she thought, as she walked toward the front. He doesn’t have an office. At least, not yet.
But Gabriel never joked about sex. No, on the subject of the erotic arts he was always serious.
Which means that we . . .
Julia didn’t finish the thought. Seated in the front row were two figures she recognized. She paused, confused.
“There she is.” Katherine Picton rose and crossed over to Julia. The two women embraced.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” Julia faltered.
“I heard a rumor that this year’s announcement of the Sage Lecturer would be worth attending.” Katherine’s eyes shone mischievously. “I’m not alone. I believe you two have met?”
Katherine stood back and gestured between Julia and an aged man who wore a tweed jacket and dark corduroy trousers.
“Don Wodehouse.” The man removed his glasses and extended his hand to Julia.
“Professor Wodehouse, it’s good to see you again.” Julia’s voice was faint, for she was in shock. She mustered a smile.
“Graham.” Professor Wodehouse shook hands with his former student, although his greeting was remarkably cool.
Graham appeared unfazed by the professor’s demeanor and smiled. “Julia has been telling me about her paper on Guido da Montefeltro.”
Julia tensed.
“Yes, I’m familiar with that paper.” Professor Wodehouse replaced his glasses on his nose. “I’m interested to hear what Mrs. Emerson has to say about Dante’s treatment of Ulysses.”
Julia felt almost light-headed. “I haven’t focused on that text, but I’m looking forward to discussing it with everyone at the workshop you’ve organized in April.”
Graham chuckled next to her.
“Yes, there will be plenty of time to discuss Ulysses.” Katherine nudged Professor Wodehouse. “We need to sit down. I see the guest of honor has arrived.”
At that moment, Gabriel entered the hall with a group of university officials, in full regalia. Julia found herself seated in between Graham and Katherine as Professor Wodehouse took a chair on the other side of Katherine.
Gabriel and the officials gathered on the raised platform. Julia recognized most of the dignitaries from the reception the evening before.
Having just survived a brief challenge from Professor Wodehouse, who by all accounts was intimidating, Julia’s heart beat quickly. She was reminded of how, more than three years ago, she sat in Gabriel’s seminar at the University of Toronto—a young, grass-green graduate student who’d hidden a secret love for her professor in her heart. How far they’d come.
She had survived Toronto and their separation. She had survived Christa Peterson and Paulina Gruscheva. Despite her inherent shyness, she’d won a place at Harvard. All that remained was for her to complete her program and then she, like Gabriel, would have the academic freedom to study and write what she pleased.
Professor Emerson looked very handsome, dressed in his Harvard crimson over a gray suit. His pale blue shirt and darker blue tie made his sapphire eyes seem bluer.
She’d wanted to match his gray suit, but she’d succumbed to his last-minute plea to wear something brighter.
“I need to be able to find you,” Gabriel had pleaded over breakfast. The sound of his voice was strangely vulnerable.
Julia could not refuse. Vulnerability was something he shunned like mediocrity. Yet he could be vulnerable with her, privately. She treasured and protected those moments.
So she eschewed the gray dress she’d wanted to wear and replaced it with a sleeveless kelly green dress. The dress was modest and fell to her knees, but the color was daring and the wide neck exposed her collarbones.
Gabriel had predicted that most of the audience would be clad in dark colors. He was correct. In a sea of black, navy, and dark tweed, her green dress made her highly visible, which was precisely what he’d wanted.
And she was wearing a pair of red-soled stiletto heels. Somehow her right leg had felt better that morning and so she thought she’d chance it. She hoped Gabriel would appreciate her choice.
When his eyes finally found hers, he stood very still. The principal of the university was speaking in his ear, but Gabriel’s attention was fixed on his wife. His lips curved up into a half-smile and he gave her an intense, branding look before turning his attention back to the principal.
Now Julia could draw breath. Gabriel had arrived and he had found her. She’d never been more eager to be found.
Julia wondered how Clare was adjusting to an afternoon with Rebecca at the hotel. The past two days had been the Emersons’ first excursions without the baby and Julia felt curiously bereft. In order to resist the urge to text Rebecca, she focused on her dress, noticing the way the material gave off a subtle sheen under the lights. Then she patted her hair. She’d worn it in a French twist, pinned at the back of her head.
“When Gabriel delivers the Sage Lectures, he’ll be in McEwan Hall, which is much larger.” Graham leaned closer from his seat.
She glanced around the room. “How much larger?”
“This room only seats two hundred fifty people. McEwan Hall seats a thousand.”
Julia gulped. She hadn’t really grasped the pomp surrounding the Sage Lectures, although she had been impressed by the warm and generous hospitality of the university. Graham had been very kind, as had his colleagues. It seemed to be a wonderful community.
The head of the School of Literatures, Languages, and Cultures made a few opening remarks and introduced the director of the Research Office, who spent a great deal of time highlighting the excellent research profile of the university before describing the importance of the Sage Lectures in the field of the humanities.
Julia noticed that Gabriel’s body language never changed, even when the principal was introduced and he began cataloguing Gabriel’s long list of accomplishments. Gabriel’s piercing blue eyes moved in an unhurried fashion from the principal to Katherine Picton, with whom he exchanged a warm smile, and back again.
He caught Julia’s eye and winked. Julia winked back, feeling warm all over.
She surveyed the audience, noting the presence of what looked like undergraduate and graduate students, as well as faculty members and other members of staff. That was when it struck her.
Gabriel didn’t have graduate students. Yes, Boston University had hoped he’d be able to attract them, but since Italian studies didn’t have a graduate program, students interested in studying Dante at the master’s or doctoral level had to enroll in the Department of Religion, in which Gabriel was cross-appointed. But a doctorate in religion wasn’t what a true Dante specialist needed, especially if he or she wished to teach in a department of Italian or Romance studies.
The University of Edinburgh has a doctoral program in Italian.
Indeed, she was sitting in front of several of the faculty members of that program, while Professor Todd sat next to her.
Julia’s heart skipped a beat. Gabriel had taken the job at Boston University so he could be close to her while she studied at Harvard. But professionally, the job was not the best fit. And Katherine Picton had said as much, in the conversation in which she’d suggested Julia spend a semester in Scotland.
The University of Edinburgh recognized Gabriel’s accomplishments. The Sage Lectures were drawing enormous attention, including the attention of the media. Other universities and research institutes would take notice. Perhaps Edinburgh would invite him to stay. . . .
The principal
finished his introduction and Gabriel joined him at the lectern. The men shook hands.
Gabriel adjusted the microphone to accommodate his six-foot-two height and withdrew his black-rimmed eyeglasses from inside his suit jacket. A hush fell over the audience as he adjusted his notes on top of the lectern.
“Mr. Principal, members of the University Court, colleagues, ladies and gentlemen, you honor me with your attendance. I’d like to thank the University of Edinburgh for their generous invitation, which I gladly accept.
“Thanks are due also to my home institution of Boston University for its support of my research. I also want to thank my lovely wife, Julianne.” Gabriel gestured to her. “Because of her support and the support of Boston University, I will be able to relocate to Edinburgh for the 2013–2014 academic year and deliver the Sage Lectures.
“I have been invited by the principal to say a few words about the series of lectures I intend to deliver next year, here at the incomparable University of Edinburgh. Allow me to begin.”
He cleared his throat. “‘Voi non dovreste mai, se non per morte, la vostra donna, ch’è morta, obliare.’ So speaks Dante in La Vita Nuova, ‘Except by death, we must not any way forget our lady who is gone from us.’
“In this work, Dante gives us poetry from his heart, describing the constancy of his devotion to Beatrice.” Gabriel made eye contact with Julia, looking at her over the rims of his glasses.
“Dante Alighieri was born in Florence, Italy, in 1265. He is known for his poetry and political writings, as well as for his activism in Florentine politics. But he is also known for his passionate and unconsummated love for Beatrice.
“Dante met Beatrice Portinari when they were both nine years old. ‘Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra,’ he writes. ‘Now your blessedness appears.’
“Dante and Beatrice crossed paths again in 1283 and Beatrice’s greeting was so moving, Dante writes that at that moment he saw the culmination of blessedness. This moment is immortalized in Henry Holiday’s painting Dante and Beatrice.” Gabriel nodded toward the back of the room and a projection of the painting appeared on a screen behind him.
Julia held her breath. The painting was personal to her and Gabriel and for more than one reason. He’d purchased a copy of it years ago and had kept it with him ever since. And at the moment, it was hanging on the wall in their bedroom, back in Cambridge.
“Dante’s life is shaken by this second meeting with the virtuous and beautiful Beatrice. He loves her. He worships her. He devotes much time and attention to praising her in thought and in poetry, but Beatrice marries Simone dei Bardi in 1287.” At this Gabriel paused, making eye contact with the audience. “Dante is married, as well. But he doesn’t write poetry in praise of his wife. Indeed, La Vita Nuova paints a picture of a lovestruck, single-minded man who adores another man’s wife from afar.
“Is it love? Is it lust?” Gabriel paused. “It’s certainly passionate. Although Dante and Beatrice have become a model of courtly love, the truth is we don’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t died, suddenly, at the age of twenty-four.
“Dante describes a conversation between himself and the adulterous lover Francesca da Rimini in Inferno canto five. Is this a nod to what might have happened, had Beatrice not died? Or is there a different subtext to Dante’s conversation with Francesca? I’ll explore my answers to those questions in the lectures.”
Gabriel shifted the pages of his notes.
“La Vita Nuova is Dante’s first-person account of his encounters with Beatrice and his love for her. He ends the poem with a solemn pledge to study and show himself worthy, so that he may write something in tribute to her. He hopes his soul will go to be with her in Paradise after he dies.”
Gabriel nodded once again and a new image appeared on the screen behind him. “This is one of Sandro Botticelli’s illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. In this image, we see Dante confessing to Beatrice and Beatrice revealing her face. The conversation is recorded in Purgatorio canto thirty-one.”
Gabriel looked down at his notes. He adjusted his glasses.
“In La Vita Nuova, Dante provides us with an account of a man’s obsessive devotion to his virtuous muse. Many of you know the rest of the story—how Dante mourned Beatrice’s untimely death for the rest of his life and how he penned The Divine Comedy at least in part as a tribute to her. The Inferno begins with Dante’s confession that at the midpoint of his life he’d lost the right path and strayed into shadows.
“The poet Virgil comes to Dante’s aid and explains that he is there at Beatrice’s request. In conversation with Virgil, Beatrice identifies Dante as her friend, and she declares she’s worried he’s beyond rescue. According to her, Dante has been turned aside by fear.
“But it’s the blessed Virgin Mary who sees Dante’s distress first. Mary tells St. Lucy, and it’s St. Lucy who seeks out Beatrice, wondering why she hasn’t helped the man who loved her so much that he left behind the vulgar crowd. At hearing that, and bestirred by her love for him, Beatrice makes haste to seek out Virgil.
“Skipping ahead to Purgatorio canto thirty-one, we have a very different account of Dante and his troubles. Beatrice accuses Dante of forsaking his devotion to her and being deceived by young women, whom she refers to as Sirens.”
A murmur lifted from the audience. Next to Julia, Katherine and Professor Wodehouse exchanged a look.
“Dante responds to her charge with shame.” Gabriel cleared this throat. “But then, a few lines later, the three theological virtues beg Beatrice to turn her holy eyes onto ‘her faithful one,’ Dante.” Gabriel’s eyes met Julia’s and held them.
“What are we to make of the reversal in Purgatorio? Beatrice condemns Dante for faithlessness and he reacts in shame. Then the theological virtues—faith, hope, and charity—declare that Dante is, in fact, faithful to Beatrice.
“Did Dante keep his promise to Beatrice? Or did he fail? On the one hand, we have a written record of Dante’s devotion to Beatrice, and that record includes The Divine Comedy. On the other hand, we have Beatrice’s harsh words—words that Dante himself writes—and the subsequent purging of Dante’s sins in Purgatory.
“In the Sage Lectures, I will juxtapose Dante’s exchange with Francesca with his conversation with Beatrice. I’ll shed light on the literary puzzle of Beatrice’s condemnation and Dante’s pledge by examining the Purgatorio in light of both La Vita Nuova and The Divine Comedy as a whole.
“Dante is the author of the works in question, but he’s also a character in the story. I will offer a metalevel reading of the texts that will contrast Dante the author with Dante the character.” Gabriel grinned impishly, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Perhaps Dante’s true purgation consists in penning the Purgatorio itself.”
The audience laughed.
“So I invite you, colleagues and friends, to join me on a journey of redemption. Our path will wend its way through Hell and Purgatory, and eventually arrive in Paradise. Along the way, we’ll meet villains and cowards, as well as great men and women of renown.
“We will explore what Dante can teach us about human nature and humanity at its best and at its worst. And we will learn more about the extraordinary love story of Dante and Beatrice. Thank you.”
The audience erupted in applause.
Gabriel acknowledged the audience with a nod, his gaze finding Julia. She smiled as she clapped and instantly, Gabriel’s shoulders relaxed.
She hadn’t realized the tension he’d been carrying, for he hid it well.
The director of the Research Office shook Gabriel’s hand as he retreated to his seat. And then the director made a few closing remarks before inviting everyone to a reception in a neighboring hall.
Gabriel made a move in Julia’s direction but was intercepted by the principal, who clapped him on the shoulder.
As the audience filed out and the pri
ncipal continued to engage Gabriel, Julia joined Katherine, Graham, and Professor Wodehouse at the reception.
“Where are you in your graduate program?” Professor Wodehouse asked Julia, as they stood holding their wineglasses.
Julia tasted her wine hastily before she answered. “I’ve finished two years. Next fall, I take my final courses and then I take my examinations in the winter.”
Professor Wodehouse frowned, which really was rather frightening. “You said next fall? What are you doing now?”
“I’m on maternity leave.” Julia’s cheeks reddened.
Wodehouse’s frown deepened. “Good heavens.” He peered around the room. “Where’s the baby?”
“She’s with a friend at the moment.”
“And how old is your child?”
“Just six weeks.”
“Good heavens!” he exclaimed, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline. He surveyed Julia quickly. “My wife wouldn’t have traveled to London six weeks after giving birth, let alone gotten on an airplane and crossed the Atlantic. Now I understand what Katherine meant.” He drank from his wineglass.
Julia glanced at Katherine, who was deep in conversation with Graham a few steps away from them. She was tempted to ask what, precisely, Katherine had said. And she found the temptation too great to resist. “Katherine?”
“Katherine said you were more tenacious than your husband. You know him, obviously, and so you can imagine my reaction to her pronouncement.” Professor Wodehouse looked at Julia approvingly. “I’m beginning to think Katherine is right.”
“Thank you.” Julia’s voice was a little weak, partially because she was trying to figure out if the professor was complimenting her or censuring her.
“So you’re on leave this year and your husband is in Edinburgh next year. I take it you’ll be commuting back and forth?”
“I don’t know.” Julia was carefully noncommittal. She wanted to mention her plan to take courses in Edinburgh and then return to Harvard to take her exams after the lectures were complete, but she remembered she hadn’t spoken to Cecilia about it. Cecilia and Professor Wodehouse were friendly, which meant she couldn’t mention her plan. At least, not yet.
Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno) Page 11