The Scribe of Siena

by Melodie Winawer

  Clara finished supervising the loading of our belongings and came to my side. “What are you looking at, Signora?” She followed my gaze. “Is that Messer Accorsi, the painter? Whatever is he doing here in Messina?”

  “I’m told he secured a commission here.”

  “Was he on our ship? He must have been, to arrive at just the same moment. And the entire voyage we had no knowledge of his company! Or did you know and hide it from me?” She smiled conspiratorially.

  “I’ve only recently found out myself,” I said, avoiding her question.

  “Isn’t that extraordinary, Signora?”

  “Quite,” I said, and I watched Gabriele’s disappearing figure as long as I dared, blinking to keep his image from blurring.

  * * *

  We made our way from the ship to Lugani’s Messina outpost, up the slope from the curve of the harbor and through the city’s narrow streets. The most established merchants often operated branches of their business—fondaci—in other cities. I knew from my scribal assignments that Lugani had fondaci as far flung as Barcelona and Mallorca in addition to Sicily. Lugani motioned me to stay with him while Clara dealt with our baggage under Cane’s direction. I was relieved to be free of Lugani’s right-hand man for a while.

  The Messina fondaco was in the plump hands of a man named Provenzano degli Uberti, who was, I quickly learned, a Genoese transplant reluctant to be sweating it out in Messina. He ran the Sicilian headquarters of the trading business, which included a warehouse, an office, and a small storefront. The shop was stocked with jars of spices, blocks of creamy beeswax, spools of brightly colored silk thread, and small dense cakes of solid dye. Bolts of cloth—silk, linen, and wool, in a range of colors—lined up below the lowest wooden shelf on each wall of the shop. There was a strong smell of sandalwood in the air. Provenzano—I thought of him by his first name because Lugani used it—smiled from behind a large wooden desk when we entered his office. He struggled to extricate himself from his narrow armchair. Bursting free, he bowed in greeting.

  “Messer Lugani, what a great pleasure to have your company at last. We suffer for lack of culture in this unsophisticated town. The Messinese like to call it a city, and we do indulge them for the sake of business, of course.” He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief that looked too damp to absorb anything more.

  Provenzano waddled around the desk and squinted at me. “And who is this lovely creature you’ve brought back from your travels? Our plain sparrow feathers are dull in comparison to her resplendent plumage.” There was something so sweetly comical and self-deprecating about him that I found myself smiling in response.

  “This is Monna Beatrice Trovato, my new scribe. She will be joining us at the fondaco until the shipments we have brought are fully inventoried, and our next ventures firmly under contract.” Those were the first details I’d heard about the endpoint of my employment with him. I hoped I could finish in time to escape the Plague.

  “Delightful, delightful,” Provenzano said. “We are in great need of a scribe just now.”

  “Indeed? Please elaborate,” Lugani said.

  My heart sank as Provenzano explained that the contents of the entire warehouse needed cataloging; I wasn’t going anywhere soon. Lugani and his Sicilian fattori wasted no time before getting down to business. I spent the rest of the day in the warehouse with the two of them.

  Wool, dyes, alum, raw hides, silk, velvet and leather, oil, wine, salt, ceramics, carved wood, and even some minor artworks were piled up in Lugani’s warehouse. By the time the light through the high small windows dimmed and we could no longer see the products we were cataloging, I was exhausted and starving.

  Lugani asked Provenzano to show me to my quarters, which were conveniently part of the fondaco complex. The whole business was behind a high stone wall with a locked gate, keeping people in as well as out; any thoughts I’d had of escaping unnoticed withered at the sight.

  Clara was already ensconced in our shared room when I arrived. It was dominated by an enormous bed made of carved wood, hung with a brightly painted canopy and surrounded on three sides by a low footboard that served as both a step up and a bench. The enormous bed would have easily fit two of me and three of Clara, but there was a small trundle bed next to it, clearly intended for a servant. A walnut table and chair, a commode, and a small stand with a pitcher of water and basin completed the furnishings. The windows were not glazed but fitted with wooden shutters that swung outward. At that moment they were open to the warm Sicilian breeze.

  I allowed myself to appreciate the small pleasure of a welcoming bedroom despite my worries. Clara helped me strip my clothes and rinse off with water from the pitcher and basin, then left and returned with supper—roasted pike stuffed with raisins and a side dish of small mushrooms that smelled deliciously of fall. Clara had a knack for making friends with the people responsible for cooking, and she had clearly already worked her magic on Provenzano’s cook. We ate together, at my insistence.

  “Did you speak to Messer Lugani on my behalf?”

  Clara’s question made me choke on my fish. “I did, Clara, yes, indeed.” I tried to smile.

  “What did he say when you spoke to him about our future?” I sifted through my memory of Lugani’s words to find something positive.

  “He said motherhood would grace you nicely.” Clara blushed and smiled through her bite of mushrooms. My heart sank. “Clara, I don’t mean to make trouble, but have you considered that he might not marry you? There is a dramatic difference in your social stations.”

  “He has placed a guard at our door to protect me, and our future.” She sighed happily. “What more proof of his devotion is necessary?”

  Her certainty of Lugani’s devotion was almost pathologically innocent; he must have talked a good game when he seduced her. The image of the two of them together was more than I could stomach during supper and I let her finish the meal.

  “Shall we prepare for bed, Signora? The candles are nearly spent.” Clara closed the shutters and we went to bed. She fell asleep long before I did and I listened to her snores coming from the trundle bed as I lay propped up on pillows—the first I’d seen in the fourteenth century. I wished I had Clara’s capacity for false security.

  * * *

  I spent three solid days on the work Lugani assigned me, traipsing around with the odd trio: Lugani, smooth and elegant; Cane, sharp and suspicious; and Provenzano, plump and jocular. The aroma of spices clung to my clothes and hair, and the bright hues of dyed silk and fine wool shimmered behind my eyelids when I closed them.

  Everything reminded me of Gabriele. The bolts of wool recalled our private meeting place, and the spices made me think of his elusive scent. Most often I imagined him preparing panels for painting in Messina’s Ospedale. Sometimes in my imaginings he ignored me as he worked, his focus pure and narrow. Late at night, I imagined his attention turned toward me, as it had on the ship. I wished I could send Gabriele a letter but it was impossible under Cane’s intense scrutiny.

  As a break from making a list of everything in the warehouse, I drew up contracts for Lugani’s business associates. The men varied from elegant noblemen to weather-beaten traders, but they all had one passion in common: money. I saw Clara only at meals and when she helped me undress at night. Cane had her assisting with food preparation and housekeeping for the fondaco, so we were both too worn out to talk by the end of the day. At night, I dreamed of Plague-infested cities, and woke up gasping in the dark. Clara snored on.

  On the evening of our fourth day in Messina, Cane came to my chambers after Vespers. I was so exhausted I’d fallen into the huge curtained bed, so Clara answered the door.

  “Is your mistress indisposed?”

  “She has retired, Ser.”

  Cane cleared his throat. “Be sure she rises early tomorrow, for a trip to Messina’s port.”

  “Yes, Messer. How should she prepare?”

  “She will accompany Messer Lugani in a meeting to discu
ss the purchase of cargo from Caffa. Be sure she brings materials for creation of contracts. We will be waiting at the fondaco’s front door at the Terce bells. You need not accompany your mistress.”

  “Yes, Ser. No, Ser.”

  I listened to Cane’s retreating footsteps. If we were planning a trip to meet the sailors that brought the Plague from Caffa, I wasn’t sticking around for it. Maybe Clara, Gabriele, and I could be on a ship at dawn—or if not, hide until a ship was available. But I had to find Gabriele first. I waited until I heard Clara snoring, then rose and dressed in the dark. A guard slumped in a chair in front of our room. It was all easy until I reached the fondaco’s gates. There, just as I was reaching out to slide the bolt, a hand gripped my arm, and then there was something cold and hard against my throat.

  “I see our trust was ill-placed, after all,” Cane hissed, his fingers digging into the flesh of my forearm. “The hour is late, Monna Trovato, and this knife is sharp. Would you care to inform me of your purpose, opening our front door at this late hour? It is, you must realize, ill-advised to wander about the streets alone, well after curfew.”

  “I needed air.”

  “There is plenty of air inside your chamber. In fact, air is plentiful even in a prison. If it is only air you seek, perhaps your chamber should be a bit more . . . prison-like? It would be so unfortunate to lose our valuable employee before her contract is fulfilled.”

  “Yes, Ser.” The knife moved against my throat when I swallowed.

  “If you consider leaving again, Monna Trovato, I shall not hesitate to use this weapon for its intended purpose. Perhaps I should consider maiming your little maidservant if I don’t find you where I expect, the next time I look.” With that horrifying addendum, he turned me by the arm, propelling me back down the hall to the door of my room. “Whatever little trust Ser Lugani bid me have in you, I have now lost. Do not bother to attempt to leave your room again. It will be locked—from the outside, Signora. And I shall keep the key.” Before he closed the door in my face, he leaned in close and whispered, “Enjoy your air, Monna Trovato.”

  Cane’s suspicion, until now inconvenient, had turned dangerous.

  * * *

  This time, the port seemed sinister. A dark cloud hung low over the harbor, shrouding the tips of the masts. The red and yellow flag that had whipped briskly in the breeze the day we’d arrived lay limp on its pole. Two sailors stood along the quay whispering to each other.

  Lugani approached the men with Cane and me in his wake. “Where are your masters?”

  “There is a sickness aboard our ship.” The taller of the sailors chewed his lower lip anxiously. “It has struck both the captain and the merchant, Messer.” The tall sailor looked at his companion for help, but none was forthcoming.

  “Were they ill yesterday when the meeting was arranged?” I knew Lugani well enough to realize that the mildness of his voice did not reflect his mood.

  “No, Ser.” The sailor swallowed, and his protuberant Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Cane stepped forward menacingly. “Speak up, before my master loses his patience.” He and Lugani had a smooth bad cop/good cop routine, probably perfected with years of practice.

  “The captain is raging with fever. He gives off an odor so foul, from every fluid that emanates from his body, that none but the ship’s doctor will attend him. The merchant is with the angels, Ser. As of dawn today.” The young man shrank from Cane’s glare.

  “How could he have been well at sunset and dead by the morning? We received his message yesterday before Compline.”

  “Ser, begging your pardon, but I don’t know.”

  Lugani looked at me, his lips narrowed into a thin line, then back at the cringing sailors. I wondered whether he remembered my warning. “Return to your ship, boys, lest you are carrying some contagion upon your person. Cane, notify the port officials that there may be a pestilence aboard the Genoese galleys. Monna Trovato, return to the fondaco with me. We shall discuss this further.”

  The galleys were anchored a short distance from the shore, and the sailors struggled to untie the rowboat they’d used to make their way to the port. A taut line stretched from the ship’s stern into the water, disappearing under the smooth surface of the harbor. Along that line traveled a small, sleek shape with a curved, upraised tail. The shape was joined by another just like it. I watched the rats as they dove into the water and made their way to the shore.

  “Monna Trovato.” I heard Lugani’s voice from a great distance, through the roar in my head. Everything spun around me, and I felt a searing pain under my arms and in my groin, with the fierce heat of fever. My knees buckled and I fell, dimly aware of landing on the pavement.

  * * *

  I awoke to the sight of a group of horsemen stabbing a wild boar until his flanks ran red. I closed my eyes again, hoping when I reopened them the scene would make sense. I wasn’t hallucinating—it was the painted canopy above my bed in the fondaco.

  “Signora, are you awake?” I thought about lifting my hand; it was a thousand miles away from my body and impossibly heavy. “My lady, can you answer?”

  I forced my mouth to move. “How did I get here?”

  “Messer Lugani brought you in his arms. At first, I thought you were dead! I am so very glad you are not.” Clara burst into tears and buried her face in my chest. I put my hand on the back of her head as she sobbed. The warm wetness seeped through my chemise—someone must have undressed me. I hoped it had been Clara.

  I sat up. The pain and fever, or whatever I’d felt at the port, were gone. I must have had an empathic version of the Plague. I definitely didn’t want the real thing. “We have to get out of here. I’m going to talk to Messer Lugani. Where is he?”

  As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Clara wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve, and got up to open it. Lugani stood in the doorway, his height filling the entrance. He was hatless, and his dark short hair stood up from his head in spikes, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His cloak was pinned off center. I had not seen him look so like an ordinary man before, vulnerable to the vagaries of life. And, I was happy to see, Cane was not with him.

  “Monna Trovato, it seems you were right. The pestilence has come.” His admission of the accuracy of my warnings and his failure to believe them made even more of an impact on me than his appearance. “Messer Cane and I plan to leave the city immediately. You should prepare to leave with us.”

  There was nothing I wanted to do more than accept. Nothing, that is, except find Gabriele and leave with him. “Ser Lugani, I wish to leave the city as much as you do. However, I must find my Sienese acquaintance first, Ser Accorsi, the artist who now resides in Messina’s Ospedale, where he has a commission. I wish to leave with him.”

  Lugani’s face darkened. “There is no time. We leave before the next bells.”

  “Surely you can wait a few hours for the possibility of saving one more life?” We stared at each other openly, and I saw the battle inside him—his own life balanced against the life of someone else.

  “There is a ship—La Serena—leaving Messina in two hours. If you are not on it, you will have to find your own arrangements.”

  I made a quick decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “Well, then, you may leave without me.” Lugani nodded.

  “You may find your gold in Messer Provenzano’s hands. May God protect you.” Lugani turned and left. I thought I could feel a cool wind stirred up by his cloak, but it might have been fear. Clara made a small noise at my side.

  “Clara, you can go with him.” She looked up at me, and I saw the longing in her eyes. It wouldn’t be as his betrothed, but it might buy her ten months of life. I watched her conquer that longing, and replace it with something else: a fierce, young resolve.

  “No, Monna Trovato. I am staying with you.” I hugged her quickly, feeling her limbs tremble. I hoped we both wouldn’t regret our decisions.We were now likely to be stranded five hundred miles from
Siena in a city about to be overrun by Plague. I stood up, pulled on my dress, and tied my hair into a loose knot while Clara fumbled with my buttons. Then I went to find Provenzano. He greeted me in the fondaco office with his usual combination of good humor and friendly grumbling. I suspected Lugani had not told him what was coming, since without him, there was no one to run the fondaco. Lugani was a businessman after all.

  “Signora, it is always such a pleasure to see your radiant face in this dim little shop. I rue the sad day when you depart, leaving me bereft in this godforsaken post.” His fat face creased with a smile. He either didn’t notice the wild look in my eyes and the unusual state of my hair, or was too polite to mention anything.

  “Provenzano, I’m told you have something for me.”

  “Is it just your wages that you seek? How disappointing.”

  If I had to choose someone among Lugani’s administrative staff to be stranded in Messina with, this was definitely the guy. “I hear that Messers Lugani and Cane are leaving Messina,” I said, trying to gauge how much he knew.

  “Oh, they often leave on short notice. Busy men, busy, busy men.” He wiggled his hands to connote business.

  “They didn’t say anything about a pestilence at the port?”

  “Messer Lugani said that his Genoese contact had fallen ill, but nothing more than that.”

  “Provenzano, there’s a deadly contagion brewing at the port that endangers all Messina. You should leave town as soon as possible. After, of course, you give me my money. I’m resigning, effective immediately.” I held out my hand.

  He looked at me uneasily. “What sort of contagion exactly?” He coughed once. “I’m quite susceptible to illness. I am always the first to fall ill, and the last to recover.”

  “Swellings in the groin and under the arms, raging fever, coughing up blood, delirium, and rapid death.”

  Provenzano’s forehead took on a sweaty sheen. “Perhaps I will take this opportunity to retire to the countryside. Would you care to come with me?”