Too anxious to sit, he paced. He wiped his sweaty hands against his over-tunic and looked out the window. Sunlight filled the cloister. At the center of the gravel path that wound through it, stood a statue of the Virgin Mary. Four wooden benches encircled it. Although the sight was one of utter beauty and tranquility, it gave him no peace. At the creak of a door, Lorenzo jerked swiftly around.
A callous smile on her lips, Prudenza Benevento strode forward and rested both hands on the back of the chair facing the grating. A ray of sunlight played with the golden threads of her emerald colored over-tunic. Lorenzo had been wary of her all his life, mindful of her sharp tongue and insidious character. She disturbed him more, now that he truly saw the evil charlatan hidden behind her elegant clothes and fine jewels.
Lorenzo wanted to turn his back on her. Instead, he stepped closer to the grating and faced her. Knowing that she had tricked him into coming here sent a stab of loathing through him. “Where is Giustina?”
“I see you are disappointed.” Her mocking voice chilled him. “Giustina is here, well-tended, and eager to wed your brother on the morrow.”
“You would know that is not true if you knew your daughter. She loves me, not Luca, and I love her. Luca knows this. He has given us his blessing.”
“Your brother! Who is he to decide whom Giustina will marry? He who hides a whore and his bastard in a chamber in the villa!”
Anger drove Lorenzo towards the bars, but he stopped at the last moment. He must not let her see the impact her words had on him. If he wanted to gain the upper hand, he needed to maintain his composure. “Rethink this,” he said in a softer tone. “For your daughter’s happiness, reconsider this marriage. Talk to your husband. I will speak to my father. There will be no trouble to any of us if we do what is right, if everyone agrees.”
At his words, she looked at him fiercely. “So that you can take your brother’s place? What have you to offer my daughter? You who have merely followed your father’s example, tending to your pathetic orchards and vineyard. You can offer Giustina nothing more than what she already has. It is your brother who has gained fame and wealth. It is Luca who can raise Giustina to a greater social position. He can provide for her better than you.”
“He does not love Giustina as I do. She will not be happy with him.”
“Love never matters in marriage. Marriages are to increase wealth and power. Luca has the clear advantage in all these respects.”
“I too, have plans to increase my wealth and property. I shall add quality stallions to breed with several of my mares. In a few years, through their offspring, I can increase my wealth threefold. Then I’ll buy more land and expand my vineyards and orchards. One day my wealth will match or even surpass that of my brother’s.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “All conjecture. I prefer to deal in reality.” She stepped closer to the bars, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Stay away from my daughter – now and after the wedding.”
“No.”
“You had better.” Her snarl made her face look pinched. “Otherwise, I shall curse you and your descendants, a curse the likes of which the world has never seen.”
Lorenzo grabbed the bars with both hands and pressed his face close. “If you were a man –”
“What would you do? Strike me? Nothing can stand against my power as a jettatura. If you do not stay away from my daughter, you will suffer the full extent of my wrath.”
“You are heartless. I pity my beloved Giustina and my brother.” He paused to still his temper. “Heed my words,” he continued evenly. “Things do not always go as planned. A tarantula thinks it is king of the world until someone crushes it beneath a heel. You will regret all that you have done. One day it will be your downfall.
Lorenzo turned his back to her and strode from the room, slamming the door.
100
Olivia’s exquisite cottage, so lovingly decorated by Luca, and meant to be a refuge for her and her son, had now lost its initial charm and sense of security. The encounter with Signora Benevento had shaken her. It had showed her a future with little hope of comfort or happiness. The threats still rang in Olivia’s ears. Beneath the woman’s cool exterior lay hidden a boundless capacity for cruelty. Olivia glanced down at Giuda who slept unaware of the previous tumult. His innocence and dependence stirred her heart.
Outside, she heard men talking. She hurried to the window just in time to catch a glimpse of an important-looking clergyman. From his occasional visits to the abbey, she recognized Bishop Bartolomeo Donnino, a decadent, corpulent man who rarely turned down a meal. Luca and his parents walked with him. Luca’s unsmiling face and subdued manner showed his lack of enthusiasm. Alone and off to the side, Lorenzo stood quietly without speaking, his head lowered and shoulders slumped. Only Prudenza and Giustina were missing. Then she recalled that Rosina had told her they had left the villa and would not return until the wedding.
As they walked to the trestle set beneath a small grove of olive trees, Luca caught her gaze. Olivia stepped back from the window, his distraught glance too much for her to bear.
101
Luca hung back as the bishop and the others sat down. What was Lorenzo doing here? He and Giustina were to have left Siena last night. He grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him aside. “What happened?” he whispered.
Loathing marked Lorenzo’s features and he frowned bleakly. “That shrew, Prudenza, is what happened. Somehow she discovered our plan and prevented Giustina from meeting me last night.” He paused. “That’s not the worst of it. This morning, I received a message from Giustina to meet her at the abbey. When I arrived, it was Prudenza who appeared.”
“Let me guess. She threatened you to keep away from her daughter.” Luca shook his head. “She had a similar conversation with me about Olivia.”
“Satan’s arse! That woman will stop at nothing to serve her own ambitions.” Lorenzo checked his loudness in case the others should overhear. “Dealing with her is like trying to pick something out of a fire – as soon as we get close, the heat pushes us back.” Lorenzo’s tone carried heavy irony. “What in the devil are we to do? We are running out of time. You’re to be wed tomorrow.”
Luca stared past a row of bushes, deep in thought. With wealth and status, he was an independent man of means, and, by God, he would use it to his advantage.
“It is not too late. Tonight, when everyone is asleep, I’ll take Olivia and the infant away. No one will discover we’ve gone until just before the nuptials.” Luca draped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “That is when you will step in and offer to marry Giustina.”
The storm cloud covering Lorenzo’s face suddenly lifted. A grin curled his lips as he reached into his pouch. “In that case, fratello mio, you will need this more than I will.” He tossed the bag of florins to Luca, who caught it in his palm. “I’ve heard Florence is a good place to marry and begin a new life.”
“So it is, Lorenzo. So it is.” Luca tossed the bag into the air and caught it before tucking it away under his tunic. Then they joined the others at the table.
102
When night fell, fifteen-year-old Talia carefully carried the tray laden with a flagon filled with pomegranate juice and a goblet to Signore Luca’s bedchamber. She took her new post as personal maidservant to Signorina Giustina very seriously. Officially, her duties would begin the morning after the wedding, but for now, Talia was to settle in and help Rosina with the guests and meal.
The prioress of the Carmelite Cloister had recommended Talia to Signora Prudenza for her daughter. When interviewed by the signora, Talia had taken great care to demonstrate how obedient, efficient, and hardworking she could be. Judging by the signora’s smile, she knew she had pleased her. The woman had hired her on the spot. Talia could now help support her parents, who had fallen on hard times, and feed her twelve siblings who ranged in age from fourteen years to three months.
Talia pushed down on the latch with her elbow, keeping the tray level
and steady. Someone had already lit the lamps and candles. She crossed the room to the bedside table and set the tray upon it, happy to see she had not spilled a drop.
Never had she seen such luxury. The large bed, its frame carved with lions and leaves, nearly filled the room. Fine bed furs and plump pillows decorated it. Her entire family lived and slept in a house half this size.
She stopped herself from dreaming and focused on the secret task Signora Prudenza had commanded of her. The lady would be extremely vexed if she failed to do as she had been bidden. Signora Prudenza had stressed this to her several times and Talia had gone to great lengths to assure her she would not fail. Soon, Signore Luca would come to the bedchamber to retire for the night. She had best hurry.
Talia raised the flagon and filled the goblet with the burgundy-colored nectar. From the wool purse hanging from her waist, she pulled out a small clay vial. She poured a few drops of the sleeping potion into the goblet as Signora Prudenza had instructed. She shook the vial. There seemed to be only a few more drops left. Signora Prudenza did not seem like the type of woman who would be pleased with wastage, so Talia emptied what remained of the contents into the goblet.
Satisfied, she slid the empty vial back into her purse and left the room. Humming a happy tune, she fingered the silver florin the lady had paid her for this special task. Signora Prudenza had assured her of many more such rewards in the future, as long as she was obedient and kept her mouth shut. Talia practically skipped with joy back to the kitchen, where Rosina awaited her.
103
After the dinner feast, Luca sat with Carlo, Enrico, and Bishop Donnino as they drank goblet after goblet of wine, their conversation growing more tedious as the night wore on. It seemed an eternity since his mother had retired, leaving the men alone. Although they had tried to keep his cup filled, the men were too drunk to notice he took only small sips. Luca wanted a clear head if he, Olivia, and his son were to leave later tonight.
Yet the trio showed no signs of retiring. The bishop held his wine far better than either his father or Enrico. They would be here all night if he did not put an end to their celebration.
“Gentlemen.” Luca raised his goblet. “The hour grows late. I have a bride to wed and bed tomorrow. It is time to drink one last toast and then retire for the night.”
“Indeed,” the bishop stammered. “You must pardon our negligence in preventing you from retiring sooner. After all, a good host never leaves the room before his guests.” He rose to his feet and raised his goblet.
Enrico followed, keeping one hand on the trestle to keep steady.
“To my beloved bride,” Luca said, conjuring up Olivia’s beautiful face in his mind instead of Giustina’s. “Tomorrow, I shall be the happiest of men!”
“To my daughter, Giustina, your beloved bride,” Carlo said.
“To your beloved bride,” the other two echoed.
They each downed the contents of their goblets.
Luca feigned drinking his then set his cup aside and out of sight.
The formality over, they ushered the bishop out of the villa; saw him safely into his litter and through the villa gates. Then they all retired to their respective bedchambers.
Luca heaved a sigh of relief as he entered his room, where he tossed two changes of clothes and his money pouch into a leather bag.
Olivia had no idea what he had planned, but he would explain everything when he went to her cottage. They would take only a few items with them. He would enter the stable, saddle two horses, and they would ride to the nearest town.
He set his bag near the door.
In the corridor beyond, he heard the closing of doors and chests and the footsteps of servants walking down the hall. He would have to wait a little longer until everyone fell asleep. Only then could they leave unnoticed.
He crossed the room and sat on the bed, glancing for the first time at the flagon and goblet set on the bedside table. Thirsty, he picked up the vessel, raised its contents to his nose, and sniffed. Ah, pomegranate juice, his favorite. He poured some into the goblet, downed the entire contents, then sat back to wait.
104
Olivia sat in the chair beside her open window and stared out into the night. She had just finished nursing Giuda, who now slept soundly beside her.
In her every pulse, she sensed Luca would come to her tonight. How could he not? It would be their last time together. Thereafter, he would be married and she would keep her distance. She wanted to make the most of their time together, tell him what she felt in her heart for him and Giuda, words she wanted to brand into his memory to sustain him in times to come. What the future held for them all, she did not yet know.
Tonight, she would put the uncertain future out of her mind. All she wanted was to hear him whisper her name in a husky, love-filled voice, luxuriate in the warmth of his embrace, know his feelings for her were written on his heart, know he loved only her even though he must marry someone else. She had donned her prettiest gown, a light yellow silk that gave off hues of gold against the lamplight. Her long, braided tresses fell gracefully over each shoulder and breast. Rosina had given her some lavender oil, which she had dabbed onto her neck.
The villa fell silent and she waited, listening for his tread outside her door. It did not come. She paced the room. Still no Luca. This is how it will always be once he marries Giustina, she thought. Days and nights of disappointment while he committed his life to his new wife. Her impatience slowly turned to anxiety. Perhaps he was not going to come, after all. She could not fathom why he would not visit her, yet as each moment passed, she became more certain he would not. Perhaps the trials of the day had tired him or the bishop’s presence in the villa had distracted him. What did men do on the eve of their wedding? Her life in the abbey had been so secluded that she knew nothing of such practices.
How foolish of her to expect his full attention when there were so many others who expected it. He was a man surrounded by family, not only his, but that of his bride’s. Giustina would be the woman to sit by his side at table, at church. Giustina would watch races, see to the running of his villa, embroider his clothes, and arrange his meals.
As she waited, she alternated between pacing and sitting, picking up a vase, running her hand across the coolness of the frescos, caressing her son’s cheek as he slept – anything to occupy her mind. How many more nights and days would she suffer the disappointment of the door that never opened, and loving a man who must live an entire life without her. More important, could she bear it?
No. She could not. She would not. To live a life rich with wonder and filled with love was her right, not a far-reaching dream. She deserved to be safe, to be happy, without threats by his future mother-in-law.
Her and her son’s presence here would only bring discord into Luca’s life. If fate had declared Luca should wed Giustina, then so be it. As long as she was present, Luca would never be free to open his heart to his wife. Better to disappear from his life and return to the abbey. It would make things easier for everyone. In time, he would forget her. She loved him enough not to encumber him.
Time seemed to pass with terrible slowness, like a flow of honey in winter. Olivia slowly undressed and put on her nightdress. Then she curled herself into a ball beneath the covers. Staring out into the night sky, she waited for morning.
105
Olivia listened to the sounds of the villa coming awake. Luca’s wedding day! Her heart felt crushed beneath the pain of losing him. She had already nursed her son, who lay in his cradle while she finished dressing.
At the sound of voices outside her window, Olivia looked out to see. At the rear of the villa, in the shade of some trees, servants laughed as they set the tables for the wedding feast. Silver goblets rested on either side of the long trestle. Servants carried dishes of nuts and dried fruit, flagons filled with wine, and platters laden with the pomegranate, watermelons, peaches, and grapes. They worked with a quiet industriousness, carefree, as if truly enjoying t
heir tasks for such a happy event. Olivia sighed. What she would not give to experience even a sliver of light-heartedness!
Rosina rapped on the door, then hurried into the room with a tray of bread, honey, and watered wine that she set down on the writing table. She looked at Olivia with concern. “Mangia, cara. You must eat. I can see by your paleness and red eyes that you didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Grazie, I shall sleep, but I must ask a favor of you first.”
“Ma certo! What do you need? Something for you? For the infant?”
“I must speak with Nanino. Can you fetch him? And on the way back, can you pluck a pink lotus from the fountain and bring it to me?”
“I will go right away.” She rested her hands on her hips and gave Olivia a stern look. “I want to see the bread and honey gone by the time I return. You’ve been eating like a little bird these past few days. It’s a wonder your son doesn’t wail with hunger more often.”
Olivia smiled, broke off a chunk of bread, and took a bite.
With a satisfied grin, Rosina left the room.
While Olivia waited, she gathered a few of Giuda’s blankets, folded them, and stuffed them into a leather sack. From the trunk, she removed several kirtles and four plain over-tunics for herself, and then laid them across the bed. She would have no use for the other, fine gowns she left in the trunk when she went back to the abbey.
Moments later, Rosina entered with Nanino. She came to a sudden halt and stared at the garments on the bed. “Are you going somewhere, Olivia? Surely you don’t intend to go to the church for the –”
Orphan of the Olive Tree - Historical Romance Saga Page 32