by Gian Bordin
Chiara left the room, smiling. Alda had regained her humor — a good sign.
* * *
Orlando decided to go to Rome alone. Since the troupe would not give any performances for quite a while, there was little to hold him in Chiusi or Chianciano. With more than fifty florins in his pocket, he could live in Rome comfortably for a year without having to work. And then there were the one thousand florins which he hoped to be able to touch when it became due by October next year. He insisted though that they should let him know when the troupe was ready to take up performing again, that he was keen to join them. He promised to check the Roman agency of Casa Medici at least once a month for a message from them.
Chiara was of two minds about him. On the one hand she respected him for his acting skills and had enjoyed performing with him. They worked well together and she knew they would again. On the other hand, she had not fully forgiven him his silent, but obvious reproach that she had dragged him into this whole matter with Casa Sanguanero and that her imprudence in Siena had put his own life in danger.
Four weeks after Alda fell sick, they profited of the first clear day to do the half-day trip to Chianciano. Just in case somebody might inquire on their whereabouts, they told the innkeeper that they were on their way to Orvieto. Pepe had arranged their things on the cart in such a way that Alda could rest on soft cushions, well wrapped in blankets and protected from the cold. She enjoyed the sun despite being rattled and shaken around by the uneven narrow road, more a mule track than a road for vehicles. It took them four hours to cover the three leagues.
In Chianciano, they took rooms in an inn that looked respectable. After settling in Alda, Chiara went through the little town on its small hill in search of a house that they could rent. There were several available — the little settlement had suffered badly in the plague, but none appealed to her. Most had only one big room that served for everything. Two had a separate outside kitchen, none had proper sanitary facilities. Disappointed, she resigned herself that they might have to stay at the inn where at least they had three separate rooms and could also use the dining room to sit together. The following day, she took her mare for a ride to explore the baths, a quarter league south of the town, and the hills west and south of it. toward the top of a gradually rising valley near the old Sillene baths, she spotted a small mansion. She had missed it on her way up and only saw it riding down at the edge of a meadow in the forest, a two-storey stone structure, looking abandoned. The ground floor windows were protected by iron bars; two small glass panes had broken loose. The upstairs windows were closed by heavy wooden shutters. Three chimneys hinted that each floor must consist of several rooms, each with its own fireplace. She peered through the iron bars of a ground floor window into a generous kitchen that seemed well equipped, including a separate bread oven. Next to it was a spacious hall, with a tile floor rather than simply packed earth.
Upon returning to the inn, she asked the innkeeper and learned that Castello Gianbucca, as it had become known after the minor noble who had it built, was indeed empty, had been empty since the plague. Its current owner, Alfonso Gianbucca, a vintner, lived in Monte Pulciano. She took Pepe up to see the house. He urged her to find out if they could rent it.
So, next day she and Jacomo rode to Monte Pulciano. She enjoyed his company. Like his sister, he was inquisitive and had a strong sense of logic. She especially liked that he was sure of himself and could hold his own, in contrast to Veronica who, although equally intelligent, lacked that sense of self-assurance.
"I race you," she shouted, and shot off, hearing the immediate response of his horse pounding behind her. He was catching up, shouting jubilantly. She spurned her steed to a new burst of speed, slowly stretching the distance between them.
She watched him as he reined his horse, admiring his strong body, his handsome face, his warm, open smile.
"I beat you."
"Ah, Lady Chiara, you cheated; you got a head start," he replied, his eyes sparkling with delight.
"Signor Jacomo da Cagli, that is the privilege of being a lady. And as a valiant knight you would not deny me that."
"It would never enter my mind to deny you anything, my gracious lady."
"Oh, Jacomo, you’re so much fun."
He blushed, averting his gaze.
"Jacomo, look at me. I meant it. It’s true."
He raised his face, his usual guard down. The love reaching out for her felt almost like a physical caress.
"Jacomo, it’s all right to love me. I feel very honored by it. You’re everything that I would look for in a young man. You’re intelligent, caring, loyal. You’re strong, good-looking, and your winning smile will conquer many a maiden’s heart."
"You’re the only woman I’ll ever love," he murmured.
"That’s what it may feel right now. But I’m sure you’ll meet another young woman that you’ll love and will want to share your life with, who will bear your children."
He averted his gaze again.
"Tell me what’s on your mind, Jacomo."
"It can never be somebody like you."
"You can’t know that. Anyway what’s so special about me? I ran away from home because I didn’t want to marry the man my father had chosen for me, and because of me he died poor, dishonored, alone. I gain the confidence of people and then cheat them."
He looked up surprised, ready to protest.
"Yes, I do and it sometimes frightens me. The Podestà in Pisa, Padre Anselmo of Fossombrone, Gaetano Salimbeni, Niccolo Sanguanero, Averardo di Bicci, and worst of all, Lady Lucia. She trusted me, she thought me her friend."
He could not suppress a smile. "You do it only to your enemies."
"No, Lucia was never my enemy and Gaetano was only a young fool. No, Jacomo, don’t hanker after a woman like me. Give your love to a girl like Veronica, honest, trusting, loyal, caring and intelligent, a girl that you sense will become a solid woman like Alda. And with the five hundred florins you own, none like this will be out of your reach."
"No girl like this will want to marry an orphan from poor tenants."
"Look at yourself. Nobody would even dream that you’re not the well-educated son of a respectable family. You mingled with rich merchants and nobles and their sons and daughters in their summer retreats. Could any one of them match you in intelligence? … in wit? Your manners are better than most of them; you bear yourself more proudly; you’re even better educated than many, and you have already achieved something that none of them has and many never will — you earn your own living and not miserably, but in style. And look at the majority of the girls you encountered there. Can they match Veronica in grace and charm? No, most of them tend to giggle at every remark a young man makes and rarely ever give an intelligent retort."
"That’s why I’ll never meet another woman like you."
"Start looking and you’ll find that among the people who are not tainted by bloodlines or wealth, there are women, like Alda, and if you like, women like me. What I am has little to do with my background. Four years ago, I wasn’t much different from the silly girls you saw in the summer retreats, maybe a bit more intelligent, and better read and thirsting to learn more, like you and Veronica. What I’m now is what I learned with and what was given to me by people like Alda and Pepe, and Lorenzo, and Antonia. Their greatest gift to me was that they put trust in me and taught me to have trust in myself. And that you already have, Jacomo, a rare gift for a young man of sixteen."
He blushed and murmured: "And all because of you."
"That’s what older sisters are there for, my big little brother. And now, you may call the next race, and we’ll see who wins."
He grinned. When he called out: "I’ll race you!" she cheated once more, cutting across the field on a bend of the road, beating him again.
"I should have known," he grinned, as he fell in beside her.
"You see, Jacomo, never trust a woman like me."
* * *
They found Alfonso Gianbuc
ca supervising the autumn cleanup of one of his vineyards, on the western slopes below the town. Yes, they could rent Castello Gianbucca for the winter for two florins, including the right to cut firewood in the forest behind the house. He took them to his house, where Chiara gave him the two gold coins and received the keys. It was a bit more difficult to get a receipt. In the end, she wrote it herself and he scribbled his name on it with difficulties and attached his seal.
Over the next few days, Pepe, Jacomo and Chiara made the modest mansion livable, cleaning it out, fixing the broken windows, oiling the hinges of all doors and windows, replacing the straw in all mattresses, closing off holes where rodents could enter, cleaning out the chimneys and making one of the upstairs rooms more or less draft proof for Alda, while Veronica stayed with Alda at the inn, looking after her, giving her company. Pepe and Jacomo also prepared a good stack of firewood, both for the kitchen and the upstairs rooms. Chiara was pleased that the house caught the sun from early morning to the late afternoon. She was looking forward to sitting in front of it and enjoying the sun, largely protected from all except a southerly wind. Alda should be able to make a good recovery in the peace and quiet of this house.
They moved in five days after their arrival in Chianciano. Although there were four upstairs rooms, Veronica begged to share the room with Chiara and she did not mind. She had formed a close bond with the girl and liked her curious and intelligent mind, always eager to learn.
When she wanted to check out the baths, she discovered to her dismay that the bath houses were closed for the winter, although it was still possible to get access to a couple of natural hot pools in the open, fed by underground springs. Not easily discouraged, she wanted to try them out. She was keen to find out whether it would be safe for Alda. A few days after they moved into the house, she asked Veronica and Jacomo to accompany her to the pool she had spotted beyond the Sillene baths, a ten minute walk from their house. The pool, about thirty feet across, felt tepid, but she did not think that it was warm enough for Alda.
Jacomo had walked around its back and tested the water. "Chiara, look, it’s much warmer over here." He bent down, putting his hand into the water again. "Oh, it’s quite hot."
She joined him. The water felt well above body temperature. Against the sun, she saw a light veil of vapors rising from its surface.
"Indeed. Let’s try it out."
Within seconds she had wiggled out of her clothing, boots and stockings and was in the water up to her chin. Veronica hesitated a moment and then followed. Jacomo turned away, as if to leave.
"Come on, Jacomo. We won’t bite. You’ll love it. In fact, we all need to soak ourselves clean."
He went a bit to the side, undressed and almost bashfully joined them. Chiara had her eyes closed, a blissful expression on her face. They stayed submerged for a quarter hour. Without warning, she started to splash them, and all three erupted into a water fight, the two women against the luckless Jacomo. Whenever he managed to scare one of them off, the other came up from behind. After a while, they all sank back into the water, slightly muddy now, laughing, but content, exhausted from both the warmth and their splashing around.
Chiara could not help admiring the two youngsters. Veronica’s soft white skin, not the slightest blemish, her proud breasts, the slim waist and full, womanly hips, Jacomo’s broad shoulders, his torso V-shaped to narrow hips and powerful thighs for a sixteen-year-old, tight dark curls reaching up his flat stomach, the play of strong muscles with every move, her vision of the perfect human forms.
* * *
"I think Jacomo was embarrassed," chuckled Veronica, as she and Chiara were getting ready to go to bed that night.
"A bit initially, but not for long."
"I don’t think he has ever seen a woman naked since he has become a man."
"He may not have seen you, but he has seen me. In Florence, I sometimes saw him watch me from behind the curtains of his room when I washed myself early morning at the fountain in the garden."
"Oh, he did? Weren’t you angry?"
"No, it was just the innocent curiosity of a boy, although he has grown into a most beautiful young man."
Veronica blushed visibly.
"You think a woman should not talk about things like that, don’t you, little sister?"
The girl blushed even more.
"Veronica, there’s nothing wrong in admiring a beautiful body, be it a man or a woman. You have seen statues of naked men and women. Even some of the churches have pictures of partially clad people. You have a perfect body, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and Jacomo looks like the statue of a Roman god. Why should I not enjoy looking at you both?"
For a moment, Veronica continued averting her gaze. Then she looked at Chiara and said softly: "I wish I were more like you, Chiara. You can talk about anything and it seems natural."
"No, Veronica, don’t try to become like me. You might not like it if you do. Be yourself, true to yourself, that’s the way I like you and feel comfortable around you. And now come to bed so that we get warm."
The girl smiled happily and slipped under the woollen blanket, snuggling up to her, her back matching Chiara’s shape.
Next day, Pepe and Jacomo carried Alda between them to the little pool. This time they had brought along enough towels for all and additional warm clothing for Alda. Even Pepe joined in. As expected, the warm water tired Alda, and back in her room she slept most of the afternoon.
* * *
Over the next weeks, they took Alda to the pool, whenever the weather was mild enough. The woman slowly gained strength and after two weeks felt strong enough to walk. Chiara watched out that she was never exposed to drafts or cold. It earned her more than once Alda’s wrath.
"Girl, stop fussing. Don’t treat me like an invalid. I’m healthy again."
"No, mamina, you’re not an invalid and yes, you’re fully recovered, and that’s the way I want to keep you. Pneumonia has the nasty habit of returning, so just listen to the wise words of your fussing child," and she kissed her on both cheeks.
Alda grabbed her. "I know, you’re right, as usual —"
"— and I know that you find it hard if somebody pampers and spoils you, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to bear with us. In fact, I think it will do you good to learn a bit of humility —"
"You better watch out what you say, Chiara," Alda cried, wagging a finger at her. "And you Veronica, stop laughing at me."
Veronica came over and kissed her too.
"See, Chiara, your bad influence. Now Veronica thinks she only has to give me a kiss and I melt." She hugged the girl and her eyes shimmered wet. "I love you both so much."
"I love you too, mamina," murmured the girl.
"And when am I allowed to lead a normal life again?"
"When Pepe brings you the first spring flowers," replied Chiara.
"Oh, then I’ll have to wait forever."
"A florin that he’ll bring you flowers."
At that moment, Jacomo entered the room and exclaimed: "Don’t bet against her. She cheats and does so unashamedly."
"Jacomo," cried Veronica outraged, "how can you say something like that about Chiara."
"Veronica, Jacomo is perfectly right. He knows from bitter experience. He’s still smarting, because I beat him twice racing our horses," and then she added in a whisper, shielding her mouth from the young man, "cheating." Turning back to Jacomo, she said: "You may race me again tomorrow. I’ve an errand in Monte Pulciano and I would like to have your company."
* * *
By midmorning of the next day, they were on their way, Chiara in her disguise as the young priest, much to Jacomo’s surprise.
"Why?" he wanted to know.
"I have two letters to post and don’t want anybody at the merchant bank remembering seeing a young woman. I don’t want it to be known that I Magnifici are nearby. The Baglione may still be looking for me."
She had finally mustered the courage to write to Contessa
d’Appiano and Lucia. The countess’ harsh words still hurt. Chiara even had to admit that there was truth to them. Her father had suffered grieving for her, but he had forgiven her and taken a heavy burden off her heart. On the other hand, the countess knew the truth about what father and son Sanguanero had done to her. Had she not recognized the necklace Lady Lucia had worn? Did she not know that they had stolen her inheritance by lies? However, Chiara also loved and respected the vivacious woman, her uncompromising rectitude. So, she apologized for having put her into the impossible position of having to expose her as an imposter and begged not to be forsaken. However, the letter did not say that she was sorry for what she had done to Casa Sanguanero.
The letter to Lucia had been more difficult. How could she justify deceiving that unsuspecting young woman so cruelly and using that trust for advancing her revenge? She agonized long about what to write. Her first righteous impulse to justify what she had done, she discarded quickly. In the end, she simply told the story of the seventeen-year-old girl who was told by her father that she had to marry a man who had openly shown his contempt for her family, of fleeing Elba on a row boat, lost at sea and picked up by the Santa Caterina, of being locked into the captain’s cabin, overhearing father and son talk about her fate, served her last meal and then raped, her escape and swim to the coast and then learning that her father had been forced to give up her inheritance as compensation for her having blinded her rapist. She ended the letter saying that she deeply regretted that, what she had done, had not only punished the guilty but also hurt the woman she had come to like and respect and who could have become her true friend.
Jacomo’s question interrupted her rumination.
"Chiara, will you teach Latin to Veronica and me?"
"Yes, that would be useful and then nobody can claim that you’re not properly educated."
"It would also give us a goal to achieve over the winter."