The Florentine Emerald: The Secret of the Convert's Ring

by Agustín Bernaldo Palatchi

  That gaunt, white-haired man, afflicted with a slight hump, embodied her greatest hope of surviving the plague, for not only was he an exceptional physician but also an eminent sage, an ascetic of the spirit, always quick to put his erudition at the service of others.

  “Mauricio’s life is in the hands of God, but there are a few small things we humans can do. Fill your house with the necessary provisions for two long weeks and above all, make sure that there is enough fresh water for Mauricio to drink. No medicines or bloodletting, no magic potions. If anything will save your husband it is water and cleanliness. Disinfect the house tirelessly, for I have noticed that the plague flourishes in the most wretched and dirty areas where the poorest people sleep crowded together among rats.”

  “There are no rats in my house,” affirmed Lorena proudly.

  “Well make sure none come in,” said Marsilio, with an intensely bright twinkle in his eye. “Disinfect the house constantly and you will live. The black rats are the army of the plague. I cannot prove it, but I would not be surprised if the sickness were transmitted from the animals to man through a flea bite. Those parasites are capable of surviving even in one’s clothes, wool in particular. For that reason I advise you to take some linen cloth to wrap around your husband’s naked body. Insist that they burn all his clothes at the hospital.”

  “I fear the doctors will not obey the wishes of a woman with no knowledge of medical matters or authority over the hospital,” Lorena objected.

  “They will when they read the letter I am writing. Lorenzo’s destiny in Naples is uncertain, but hierarchies still exist in Florence that nobody in their sane mind would dare argue with.”

  A letter, a sage’s counsel, the invocation of Sofia Plethon, a clean house, and her unshakeable faith: these were the elements Lorena counted upon to wrench her husband away from the clutches of the plague.

  55

  Dreams can bring happiness even when one is in hell. Mauricio imagined that he had returned home, where his wife was taking care of him with great tenderness. Fever was burning him up from within, he was unable to control his constant shaking, and an incessant thirst tortured him day and night. When he did open his eyes, he could see his wife mopping away the sweat with a cloth and offering him fresh water from a glass that always seemed to be full. Mauricio interpreted this as a good omen. Nothing was impossible. After all, some of the afflicted had survived.

  Then the dreams got worse.

  The pains became so acute that he did not even have the strength to scream. He could hear groans all around him, but could not distinguish if they were coming from him or from the other sick he was now unable to see. His head was on fire, as if malignant devils were taking pleasure in burning the inside of his skull. Invisible arrows seemed to be driving into the bones of his back, which felt as if they were about to shatter. The inside of his chest was crackling, he was terrified of choking due to his constant coughing fits, and when he vomited it seemed to him that his internal organs were in danger of being ripped out by their roots. His thirst was so tremendous that no amount of water seemed to be able to quench it. Mauricio had heard talk of delirium. Now he knew what it was like, at least as far as he was able to in his present condition.

  He had lost control of his mind, which seemed to alternate senseless images with the obscurity of the void, as if he had been thrown headlong into a bottomless black pit. One moment he was drenched in sweat, the next shivering with cold. Time had stopped existing. He found it impossible to continue fighting. Mauricio surrendered to his fate, like a twig swept down the river by the raging current.

  56

  By the end of the fifth day, Lorena had convinced herself that her husband was going to die. Her ministrations had not produced the desired effect: mopping up his sweat, forcing him to drink, cleaning up his vomit, disinfecting the wounds … None of this had been sufficient, even with the help of Cateruccia. Her faithful maid had refused to leave her and had devoted herself to keeping the mansion spotless with military efficiency. Lorena, for her part, had followed Marsilio’s advice scrupulously: she always wore a linen facemask whenever she was in the presence of Mauricio, washed her hands in vinegar after touching him, and had taken a bath in warm water every day.

  Indifferent to the grief it was causing, the disease was advancing inexorably: the buboes had swollen to the size of an egg before transforming into blackish patches that spread all over his body. His temperature kept on rising and the vomiting and diarrhea were becoming more frequent. Finally, Mauricio sank into complete unconsciousness. His pitiful groans and unintelligible words now became the only sounds issuing from his mouth.

  Throughout these fateful days, Lorena had not thought for one moment of the pain her husband had inflicted upon her over the last few weeks. In her memory there was only room for the handsome, innocent young man whom she had fallen in love with in Lucrecia’s shop, the same boy who had made her laugh and daydream as she listened to his troubadour love songs in Lorenzo’s gardens, the Mauricio with whom she had bathed so light-heartedly in the forest pool. The other Mauricio must have been suffering from some strange illness. In much the same way as the plague diminished the physical faculties of people until it disabled them completely, there might be a sickness of the soul clouding the understanding of men.

  Sofia Plethon had assured her that she would practice some secret ritual capable of ridding her husband of the plague. She clung to this hope when, after spending a night watching over him, she found that her husband was still breathing on the sixth day. On the seventh, she finally managed to sleep for the first time when midnight struck: Mauricio would live. She had spared no pains and God had blessed her.

  57

  “None of my words are worth anything compared to your deeds,” said Mauricio. “You risked your life for someone who had not always been a good husband, for a plague-ridden man who was only waiting for death to be his travelling companion, for someone who had made you suffer lately without knowing why … I think the loss of our first born affected me immeasurably, for after that day fear, anguish, and sadness took me over. It was probably why I tried to fill that feeling of emptiness with alcohol, or what is worse, tried to dissolve myself in it. I have been a cowardly and selfish wretch who never thought of you enough. And yet when I believed I had discovered my death sentence engraved upon my body, I could only lament for not having been able to give you all the love in my heart. Please forgive the way I behaved. I love you with every bone in my body, even though I do not deserve you. We can be happy in spite of all the obstacles that lie in wait for us.”

  Two months had elapsed since Lorena had rescued Mauricio from La Scala hospital. The rejoicing on the seventh day, when Lorena went to sleep convinced that her husband would recover, had given way to another week of tense waiting. Lorena and Cateruccia feared that they had been contaminated with the plague: each drop of sweat, tremor, or the slightest itch filled them with terror, making them afraid of feeling their bodies and discovering the terrible buboes.

  Overcoming her anxiety, Cateruccia continued cleaning the house with obsessive tidiness and Lorena tended to her convalescent husband, who was showing evident signs of improvement day by day. Finally their fears faded with the passing of time. At the beginning of the third week, they knew that the danger had been exorcised and that they were free to open the doors of their house again to the outside world.

  Since his recovery, Mauricio had thanked her over and over again and had begged for her forgiveness with words expressing all his love. Lorena was always touched to hear them, for she knew they reflected the very deepest feelings Mauricio felt for her.

  However, today was no ordinary day. Her husband had recovered so much that he had started working again at the tavola. As Mauricio felt so much better, Lorena planned to put one of the more daring ideas that Sofia had suggested, into practice.

  “I agree, Mauricio, we could be very happy. Tonight, I suggest we do something different after dinner, to celebrat
e: we are going to bathe together in warm water using that big brass bath tub!”

  Lorena was surprised at her own forwardness, but Mauricio made no objection. After dinner, during which her husband told her of the latest news that was circulating, they rose and went to a room containing the large bath. Following Sofia’s indications, Lorena had filled the room with dozens of little white candles. After the servants had poured in the hot water, Lorena added flower petals and aromatic herbs.

  The whole situation was completely new to Lorena because her shyness had always prevented her from showing herself naked to her husband. She always slept in a nightgown and when they made love, it was invariably in darkness. However, that night they undressed by the light of the candles, stepped into the bath, and caressed each other. Afterward, they dried themselves and softened their skin with aromatic creams. They were invaded with the most wonderful feeling of tranquility.

  On retiring to their quarters, the enormous feather mattress of their double bed was awaiting them. Although it was cold, the sheets, blankets, and eiderdown all made a warm refuge for them. Moreover, Mauricio’s body by her side would keep out the chill. Once more she was filled with desire for him …

  After they had made love, Lorena felt that peace had come back to her. A wonderful sensation of plenitude invaded her. Mauricio and she had become one again. Yet the problems lying in wait for them on the horizon were colossal, for if Lorenzo were to die during his hazardous journey to Naples, her husband would find all the doors now open to him in Florence suddenly closing. Thinking of this, she fell asleep praying to the Virgin to intercede for the success of Il Magnifico’s mission in enemy territory.

  58

  There was not a soul to be found indoors on that day of March 15, 1480. The streets were filled with bonfires and the church bells pealed incessantly announcing the incredible news: Lorenzo was returning home to Florence after concluding a peace treaty with the king of Naples. Lorena felt overcome with joy. At long last she could foresee a cloudless future. She had suffered so much that it seemed unreal to be overflowing with happiness. And yet in barely two months, so much had changed. Lorenzo’s victorious return now meant that the doors of opportunity would once again open for her husband. Now, having survived the plague, he had completely given up drinking and had become the man with whom she had fallen in love.

  All the ladies and gentleman had put on their best finery for such a momentous occasion. Although dressing ostentatiously was officially frowned upon in accordance with Florentine republican ideals, today was a day when everyone had to display the most sumptuous regalia they could afford. Lorena had never managed to understand the social rules governing Florence. The ladies had to be modest and obedient to avoid succumbing to frivolity, even though in society, the women who were most admired were also the most brilliant and witty. The pride of any family was for their beautifully attired women to outshine the rest, but as the norm was to dress austerely, they were then criticized for their vanity. With such contradictory rules it was not surprising that one always felt guilty in the end. However, today was not a day of atonement but of celebration. And for that reason Lorena had dressed in a velvet cioppa embroidered with pearls: an elegant outfit in the shape of a cape with long sleeves, the principal purpose of which was to show off the social importance of its wearer while at the same time hiding any feminine curves.

  “It is incredible that Lorenzo emerged victorious from the very jaws of the lion,” she said emotionally. “It seemed impossible, but he managed to do it. The man is truly magnifico. However did he manage to convince King Ferrante?” asked Lorena.

  “He has promised him that while he remains in power, Florence will always be a faithful ally to Naples. He has made him see that the pope is wooing him now, but as his power grows Naples could be his next victim. Also, he has provided him with indisputable evidence that France would be willing to support the Anjou claim to his crown. Lorenzo has promised to use his influence in the French court for this not to happen. Furthermore, the Neapolitans are facing Turkish ambitions in the Adriatic Sea. In the presence of this threat, Lorenzo has pointed out that it would be wiser to protect the unity of Italy rather than split its forces by fighting each other.”

  “The arguments are wise,” ventured Lorena, “although I fail to see why this dangerous journey was really necessary. After all, meetings between diplomats would have obtained the same results without exposing Lorenzo to physical danger.”

  “In life, one can always find reasons for or against different options, but it is emotion that finally sways one toward one direction or another. Lorenzo’s charisma will have been the decisive factor that tipped the balance in this case. King Ferrante, although possessing a reserved and volatile character, will have ended up feeling sympathy and affection for our Lorenzo, for he as well enjoys poetry, fine food, clever and cultured conversation, hunting … In short, all the things that Il Magnifico is conspicuously brilliant at.”

  “Since when have you been so knowledgeable about King Ferrante’s tastes?”

  “Francesco, the general manager of the Medici Bank, and Bruno explained a few things to me recently. According to some confidential reports, Lorenzo appeared to be like two different men. During the day he was astute and full of confidence, participating in all the celebrations and meetings with composure and vitality that both friends and strangers could only marvel at. But when night came and he retired to his quarters, he would sink into a melancholic silence and his eyes shone with the desperation of someone who knows full well that the slightest change of mood in his host could lead to his death. God only knows the tension he must have undergone!”

  “Well, you could have included me in all the things they were telling you!” complained Lorena. “You would have saved me a great deal of suffering.”

  “I knew no more than what I have just told you. As the good relations with the king were the only sliver of hope in a rather somber scenario, I chose not to give you any details that might have built up false hopes. As for the return of Lorenzo, I only found out at the same time as you.”

  The roar of the multitude brought Lorena back to the spectacular moment they were experiencing. Glimpsed from afar, the standards and flags adorned with the Medici and Florentine coats of arms could be seen fluttering by the light of the burning torches. On either side of the Via Porta Rossa the throng burst into spontaneous cheers. The sound of the bells blended with that of the trumpets in the procession. It was definitely not the time or the place for childish reproaches. A few moments later Lorenzo and his retinue managed to carve their way through the excited multitude and reached the Signoria Palace. Lorena joined in the deafening uproar that was resonating throughout Florence: “Palle, palle, palle! Palle, palle, palle!”

  59

  “Let us drink to the return of Lorenzo,” proposed Bruno.

  Mauricio raised his goblet to Bruno’s and had a drink. Giovanni, the owner of the tavern, had found them a table set apart from the others from where they could talk quietly without being too bothered by the general hubbub.

  “We are slowly beginning to find out more details about what happened there,” said Mauricio.

  “We certainly are,” agreed Bruno, “though not everything. Nobody dares calculate how much Lorenzo must have spent. The first gesture he made when he disembarked in Naples was to buy the freedom of the galley slaves rowing the ship in which he had travelled and they say that the line of servants bearing gifts for King Ferrante was easily a mile long. The former headquarters of the Medici Bank in Naples, a magnificent palace, was painstakingly redecorated to become a luxurious embassy: banquets, feasts, receptions … Every day was a feast day. And yet Lorenzo still found time to generously distribute florins to all manner of charities. He even went so far as to pay poor girls’ dowries so they could marry!”

  “Yes, well, Lorenzo’s fortune is well-nigh unlimited.”

  “That is precisely what Lorenzo intended King Ferrante to think. By spending mone
y so lavishly he hoped to achieve this goal. However, my dear Mauricio, the reality is very different. To be able to spend in that manner Lorenzo had to use part of the fortune belonging to his younger cousins and had to mortgage his villa in Cafaggiolo and his lands in Mugello.”

  “Surely you are not going to try and tell me that Lorenzo is in danger of bankruptcy!”

  “He would be, were he not the master of Florence,” observed Bruno. “For that reason alone I am not too worried about Il Magnifico’s personal finances. On the other hand, I am greatly concerned about the state of the Medici Bank. Unless there is some change in the management I think it is merely a question of time before the Florence bank goes bankrupt along with all its branches.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Mauricio sounded alarmed.

  “Utterly sure. The general manager, Francesco Sassetti, is incapable of sorting out the problems in the branches of the Medici Bank. As far as I have been able to find out, the overseas branch managers spent all their time giving out generous loans without guarantees to kings and noblemen with a view to receiving lands and titles in exchange. If that money, so freely lent, is not returned, the survival of the Medici Bank will be a complete pipe dream. Many banks have already disappeared, ruined for very similar reasons.”

  “Lorenzo has blind faith in Francesco and no interest whatsoever in controlling his management, as he is certain of not having financial problems while he governs Florence. He is probably right about this. However, now that the war is over, this might be an ideal time to start up some business of our own.”

  “In fact, I have just heard that we could buy five hundred sacks of almonds in Valencia at an excellent price. Francesco, with his usual short-sightedness, has not authorized the operation. Why don’t we buy the almonds?”