`No, Padre,' Leonora interrupted with a rush, `I truly love him. His riches mean nothing to me. Do not forget that when he first came to Venice he was merely a younger son, and he came as a student of history, anxious to find the Venetian branch of his family. Only now after the death of his brother and father, has he assumed the riches that were never his before. I love him - I loved him long before his inheritance. He is kind and good and loving. He wishes to settle here in Venice and bring up his children in the Martin name. I hope ... you will still be my confessor.'
`Cara mia, of course I will. These old eyes would miss you too much, else.' The priest sighed and smiled, his mind at rest. Corradino would be glad that his daughter was to be happily matched. Now he must come to the burden of his visit. `Leonora, do you remember your father?'
'Of course I remember him. Very fondly, for all that he left me never to return.' She clasped the glass heart. 'He gave me this, and I have worn it always as he said. Why do you speak of him now? No man ever heard from him again.
Padre Tommaso clasped his hands. `That is not entirely true. He returned here, just once, and gave me something for you.'
The girl stood, straight as a willow wand, her green eyes wide. 'He came back? When? Is he still alive?'
'Leonora. No. This was many years ago, you were still a child. Only now that you are a woman, might you be able to understand.'
'Understand what? What did he leave for me?'
'He left enough gold for your education, and a handsome dowry. And ... this.' The gnarled old hand proffered the vellum notebook. 'Your father was a genius. But he was not without sin. Great sin. Read this, and form your own mind. But do not neglect to read the final pages. I will leave you for a moment.
Padre Tommaso retired into the next chamber, and once there he prayed too. Leonora took so long that he was afraid for the patience of the congregation downstairs in the church. He was also afraid he had taken the wrong course in showing her the book. But at last the door opened and she came out. Tears had turned her eyes to glass.
`My child!' The Padre was distraught. `I was wrong to have shown you.'
Leonora fell into his arms and clasped his frail body tightly. `Oh, no, Father, no.You were right. Don't you see? Now I can forgive him.'
As Padre Tommaso led Leonora Manin down the aisle of Santa Maria della Pieta, the place that had been her home for one and twenty years, the orphaned girls sang with especial beauty. It seemed to the priest that today they attained divinity in their music, but perhaps it was the more earthly longing - that they too might one day make a match like this - that gave wings to their song. Lorenzo Visconti-Manin stood at the altar in magnificent cloth of gold, and Padre Tommaso felt a misgiving at the man's grandeur until the groom turned to see his bride and his eyes were also wet with tears. As the priest surrendered Leonora to her husband, the couple did not join hands as was customary. With a shared smile and in a practised ritual that Padre Tommaso did not understand, they reached out their right hands and, starlike, placed fingertip to fingertip, thumb to thumb.
CHAPTER 43
At the Do Mori
When Salvatore Navarro went to the Cantina Do Mori to receive a commission, and the voice of the one that greeted him was French and not Venetian, he was not surprised. Only very, very frightened. He was not surprised because They had warned him that this may come to pass. All he could think of was Corradino Manin's body, falling forward into the chilled waters of the canal, a glass blade in his back and his robes darkening as they accepted the water and dragged him down to Hell. Salvatore left at once, without even listening to the Frenchman's proposals. He knocked over a table in his haste to be away, as if every instant he spent in the man's company implicated him further as a traitor.
Salvatore gulped the twilight air and raced down the Calle del Mori to the canalside. He waited, dreading following footsteps until with relief he heard the familiar mournful cry; `gondola gondola gondola,' and hailed the gondolier. It was not until he had settled back into the velvet cushions, and directed the boatman to the Doge's palace, that he began to shake.
Still inside the Do Mori, Duparcmieur shrugged and took another leisurely sip of his wine. Salvatore could not be persuaded, and Duparcmieur had lost Corradino in a spectacular fashion, but someone soon would be persuaded by the King's gold. He glanced at his goblet and calculated - yes - he had time to finish his wine and still be safely away before Salvatore denounced him to The Ten, and they came looking. He drank deeply. Really, the wine was excellent here.
CHAPTER 44
Leonora's Heart
The birth had been difficult, so the hospital kept Leonora for another day. Never an easy patient, she was anxious to go home and was delighted to be discharged. The three of them took a boat from the hospital as she was still feeling weak, and she looked at the palaces and bridges and gloried in the city. With an open heart she loved Venice again and the city loved her back. She belonged. She had done something as fundamental as giving birth here. She had given La Scrc►rissinia another son. And as for Corradino - he was forgiven by her and the city too. Carnevale was here, winter was gone. She longed to see her flat again. Better still was the clutter that greeted her as she opened the door - all of Alessandro's things were stacked in the hall. He had moved in overnight. She caught sight of the ruby on her hand as she opened the door and thought of the moment of quiet in the hospital yesterday when he had asked her properly and she had said yes. Alessandro followed her up the stairs with their precious cargo in a carry-cradle which he placed tenderly beside her bed. Their bed. The Madonna of the Sacred Heart smiled benignly down on the three of them from her frame. The heart she held glowed in her hands and Leonora understood her at last. The heart was the Virgin's Son.
In the crazy first weeks of constant feeding and broken sleep Alessandro was home on paternity leave, so he was there when they received an unexpected visitor. Adelino crept quietly into the flat behind a barrage of flowers, kissed mother and father on both cheeks and waggled his fingers at the son. The baby was lying on a sheepskin in the living room, captivated as his mother and grandmother had been by the reflected crystal filigree of the water shimmering on the ceiling. He captured one of Adelino's gnarled digits and seemed happy to hold on.
`He is very strong,' Adelino pronounced, `very good for his future profession' Adelino ballooned his cheeks as if blowing a parison, and popped them to amuse the child. He sat on the proffered chair which Alessandro politely vacated to perch on the bed. `Now; I bring two gifts,' said the old man, `one for the mother and one for the son. The father I have brought nothing for, but it seems he has everything he wants already. Now, ladies first.' He produced a folded newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Leonora. She received it with the shock of memory which reminded her of darker times.
Il Gazzettino.
She looked at Alessandro in time to see a smile of complicity pass between the two men. `Go on,' said her fiance. `Read it.'
She opened the folds to read the headline. `MAESTRO AND MARTYR. Corrado Manin returned to certain death for the love of his secret daughter. Read the astonishing true story of self-sacrifice of one of our city's greatest sons.' Her eyes moved down to the byline. `An exclusive by Vittoria Minotto.'
Leonora raised a brow. `Vittoria?'
Alessandro smiled.`I sent her Corradino's notebook.With the sacristan's permission of course. It's safe back in the Pieta now. I wanted it to be a surprise for you.'
it certainly is. She changed her tune!'
Alessandro sat down beside his son and tickled the baby's belly. `Not really. If you'd had the misfortune to know her as long as I have you'd realize that the only thing that matters to Vittoria is an exclusive. She's not a bad person, but she will shift sides with ease to get the best story. That's why we would never have worked. Her job was always much more important than people.'
Adelino had the grace to look sheepish at the mention of work. `Speaking of jobs, we'd ... I'd like you back, as soon as your
family can spare you.'
Leonora looked down for a moment, remembering her ignominious departure.
`We need you back. All of us; the maestri too. We're going to be pretty busy. That edition only came out this morning and we've already had hundreds of enquiries about the Manin line. The public is a funny beast - they think Corradino is a hero. We're thinking of going national with the ad campaign. Chiara and Semi are very excited.'
Leonora started to laugh. `I bet they are.' But she began to remember other things, the smell of the Porno, the hot glass growing beneath her breath, taking shape in her hands. She had loved it, but she did not want to give in at once. `How do I know you want me back to be a glassblower, and not just to be some figurehead for your world domination?'
'Ali, you must let me come to my second gift,' said Adelino, patting all his pockets in a mock pantomime which elicited a reluctant smile from Leonora. Then, from the last pocket, he pulled, in the manner of a magician revealing a string of handkerchiefs, a length of familiar blue ribbon. Transfixed, Leonora's jaw dropped as the glass heart popped out ofAdelino's pocket. Perfect as ever, imprisoning light in its core. Leonora looked at Alessandro, who shook his head, equally amazed.
`But how did you ... when did you ...'
`How did you fish it out of the canal?' They spoke together in a rush.
Adelino drew his white brows together. `What do you mean?'
Alessandro told the tale, by now ashamed of his part in it. `So you see, the heart is ... was ... somewhere under the Bridge of Sighs. I'm just surprised that it was found.'
Adelino smiled. `No, no. This is not Corradino's heart. That one has found its rest, and just as well. Leave it for the city and the sea to claim.'
As it claimed Corradino. Yes, it was a.fitting end.
`This,' Adelino waved the heart, which winked in the sun, ,is one of the ones you made at the fornace, Leonora. This is why I want you back. You must be a better glassblower than you think to mistake your workmanship for your ancestor's.' He smiled expansively, including them all in this new word.
Leonora examined the heart and could not see the flaws she had imagined before. `Very well,' she said. 'I'll be back. But not yet. I have my son to take care of at the moment. Give me a few months.You can use all the ad material in the meantime: She smiled.'But I'm sure you would anyway.' Adelino's grin, the grin of a merchant, a pirate, a buccaneer, had returned.
She looked down at the heart where it shone in her hand. 'I'll keep it close as you asked,' she said quietly, a whisper to a long-dead man who had loved his child too. She made as if to tie the heart round her neck, in its old place, but Adelino stopped her.
`Hey, hey, what are you doing? It's not for you!' The familiar twinkle was back.
`It's not?'
`No, it's for Corradino,' said Adelino, pointing to the baby.
Leonora and Alessandro exchanged a look. Started to smile.
`Here, Corradino,' Leonora dangled the heart over the sheepskin rug, `how do you like your birthright?'
One tiny hand reached up for the bright glass, closed over it, and didn't let go.
THE END
Acknowledgements
Writing a book is a solitary experience, but I was lucky enough to have someone along for the journey. So most of all I'd like to thank my husband Sacha Bennett for being my editor, muse, psychiatrist, nanny, chef and printer; in short, my everything.
Once the book was finished I had lots of help from some fantastic people: thanks to my brilliant agent Teresa Chris for her constant faith in me, and to Simon Petherick, Tamsin Griffiths and the team at Beautiful Books for getting behind the novel in such a big way. Thanks to friend and writer Helene Wiggin for her encouragement and advice, and to Nigel Bliss for going to the right wedding! Thanks also to my Dad Adelin Fiorato for knowing his way round Dante, and to my Mum Barbara Fiorato for correcting my French.
If this book has a message I guess it is that family are everything. So thank you to Conrad and Ruby for letting mummy write, and for teaching me that when you have a child it's like letting your heart walk around outside of your body.
Last but not least, thank you to the Glassblowers of Murano, who work miracles every day.
THE GLASSBLOWER
OF MURANO
by Marina Fiorato
About the Author
• A Conversation with Marina Fiorato
Behind the Novel
• "The History of Murano" An Original Essay by the Author
Keep on Reading
• Recommended Reading
• Reading Group Questions
For more reading group suggestions visit wwwreadinggroupgold.com.
A Conversation with Marina Fiorato
"My old interests had found me with a vengeance-it was like being tapped on the shoulder by my past."
Could you tell us a little bit about your personal and professional background, and when it was you decided to lead a literary life?
I was born and educated in the north of England and at university I studied history. I then rebelled against my parents' academic background by going to art school and entering the film and music business! I began by generating onscreen graphics and I was lucky enough to work on films like Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie and Proof of Life with Russell Crowe. I shifted into rock music and worked with U2 and the Rolling Stones and Aerosmith, but when I became pregnant with my first child I took maternity leave. It was then that my old life found me again, and it was after I had my son that I had the idea for the story for Glassblower. I wrote the book while I was on leave and never returned to my job. I think I had been trying to be something I was not, and then, when I had a child of my own, ideas of heritage and my Venetian origins became enormously important. My old interests had found me with a vengeance-it was like being tapped on the shoulder by my past.
Is there a book or author that inspired you to become a writer?
I grew up reading Pamela Kaufman's books about Alix of Wanthwaite and her wonderful earthy writing and sense of period really inspired me-she invokes the sounds, sights, and even smells of the past so well! In more recent writing I love the prose of Thomas Harris. In the Florentine section of Hannibal I think he really manages to evoke the beauty but also the brutality of Italy at the same time. It's a modern tale but so Renaissance in spirit.
You studied history at Oxford University and the University of Venice, where you specialized in the study of Shakespeare's plays as an historical source. How has your education influenced your writing?
I studied a lot of Shakespeare in school and was inspired by both the language and the sheer drama of his storytelling. I'm like a magpie when I write; I steal shiny bits of the work of my betters and weave them into my own prose! There is so much Shakespeare in The Glassblower of Murano, from pieces of plot to direct quotes. I was particularly inspired in this case by The Merchant of Venice, which is one of the plays I studied in detail for my master's degree, but I also lifted a plotline from Romeo and Juliet. There's even a quote from The Tempest in there somewhere. At least I steal from the best!
Do you scrupulously adhere to historical facts in your novels, or do you take liberties if the story can benefit from the change?
I do try, as far as possible, to be reasonably accurateI think because of my training in historical research that any blatant inaccuracies would really jar. If push came to shove, though, I would sacrifice total accuracy for the cause of the story. It's not my job as a novelist to create a piece of historical documentation. What I'd like to think is that my books might serve to interest people in a certain period or character, and serve as a jumping-off point for them to then go away and research their interests from proper historical sources. My historical hero, Corradino Manin, is fictional so I wasn't bound by the constraints of writing about a real person; that gave me a certain amount of freedom. The context, though, the world in which he lives, does have to be accurate. There are real historical figures in the book, like Louis XIV, but as
they tend to be marginal there is not the obligation to feverishly research them.
"I love the way glass is such a shifting entity. In many ways it has as many faces as Venice itself"
Are there any parallels between you and Leonora? Can you tell us a bit about your own travels in Venice and experiences with glassblowing?
There are a number of parallels between myself and Leonora, mostly to do with our heritage. Like her, I have a Venetian family. I was actually lucky enough to study at the University of Venice for six months and I lived on the Lido, taking the vaporetto into Ca' Foscari every day, which was wonderful. While there I remember taking a tourist trip to Murano, where I saw a glassblower make a tiny, perfect crystal horse in about sixty seconds. I remember that it seemed like a miracle, and the episode stayed with me; in fact it's included in the book when Giacomo makes a glass horse for the young Corradino. I returned to Venice years later to get married, in a little church on the Grand Canal. The whole wedding party was in eighteenth-century dress, which was fabulous, and we took boats out to the islands for the reception. It was unforgettable.
You've mentioned that one of your favorite blown glass windows in Venice is at Ca' Foscari, a palace on the waterfront of the Grand Canal. What do you see when you look at that window, in particular, and all blown glass, in general? What is it about Venice, blown glass, and the process of glassblowing that you hoped to reveal to your readers?
There are hundreds of beautiful windows on the Grand Canal, but Ca' Foscari has a special resonance for me because of studying there. Originally a palace, Ca' Foscari is now used as a university and stands in a particularly beautiful bend of the canal; what fascinates me is that the window itself is as beautiful as what you can see through it. I like the way that these windows also tell the story of Venice's history-they are a wonderful hybrid of western and eastern design and exemplify Venice's identity, a republic standing astride two empires.
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