Lost in the City of Flowers (The Histories of Idan Book 1)

by Maria C. Trujillo

“That way no one has their backs turned towards one another,” explained Leonardo as I gazed with wonder at the scene before me.

  “Is that so everyone can be seen?”

  “That’s part of it. This way they can see the jewels that dangle from their necks and judge each other’s table manners.”

  “Everyone does seem to have put in a lot of effort to how they look.”

  “Not a lot,” corrected Leonardo. “All their money, time, and care. In Florence, there are sumptuary laws. People cannot show off their wealth. The laws are especially strict about women's dress.”

  “You mean the few times they are allowed to step out their front door?” I snapped.

  “Yes.”

  “Like what kind of dress is illegal?”

  “They are not really allowed to wear trains,” he said, pulling on the back of my dress.

  “Oh!”

  “What about where you come from?”

  “Well …” I stalled thinking about the busy streets of New York City. “In the city that I am from you can wear anything you want.” Leonardo’s eyes bulged at this and he was on the brink of flooding me with questions when the music died down.

  “Thank you for waiting,” pronounced Lorenzo. The gray mask he wore looked like a dog and matched the silvery thread of his periwinkle tunic. “We are very glad you are all here and will not be content until you enjoy the amusements and your neighbors’ company. Therefore, let us be the merriest of parties.” He raised his glass. While his guests followed his excellent instructions, the instruments came back to life.

  “Where do we sit?” I asked Leonardo.

  “Anywhere,” he answered, grabbing the closest chair. I had barely sat down at the seat next to him before someone touched my shoulder. Giuliano smiled down at me from behind his brown bird mask.

  “I had to make sure no one else took my seat,” he said, taking off his mask and setting it on the place setting next to me. “I actually have to sit by my brother for a while, but I’ll be back soon.”

  He strode back towards the main table. Leonardo let out a low whistle and I jabbed him in the rib with my elbow. Austere-looking men sat at the table where Giuliano was required to sit. Among them was the man with the shaved head.

  “What are you doing?” asked Leonardo.

  “Nothing,” I murmured, bending my ear towards my tummy. “I’m checking to see if Idan is ticking.”

  “You mean your little clock? I wish you would let me tinker with it … I bet I could fix it for you.”

  For a moment I thought I could make out a faint beat but the music was too loud. “It doesn’t need fixing,” I insisted, sitting up. The servants pranced in and out of the dining room carrying large jugs or platters laden with exotic foods. “I don’t think you will be eating much here,” I said, staring at the platter of roast beef wedged between us.

  Leonardo quickly exchanged it for a plate of sharp cheese, green grapes, and sliced apples. As I served myself, I could feel the gaze of many around me. “Where did Sandro go?” I said, seeing Simonetta across the way. She was cutting tiny pieces but eating nothing. The gorgeous lady was surrounded by young women dressed in equal splendor.

  “I’m right here,” he said through a mouthful of a dark pudding. He was seated on Leonardo’s other side.

  “Honestly, if I would’ve known that the only dish without meat was going to be cheese and fruit and that all you would be doing was flirting the night away, I would have stayed with my father,” complained Leonardo.

  “More food for us then,” added Sandro, cutting a thick slice of mutton covered in hot butter. “What were you expecting?”

  “I thought there would be more … drama. At the very least, I hoped for better food.”

  “Sorry you are disappointed,” said Giuliano coolly. Leonardo tried to hide his embarrassment in a gracious smile.

  “Viola, would you like a tour of the house?” asked Giuliano, leaning close towards my ear. One of his stray curls rested against my cheek.

  “I would!” I said, getting to my feet. He grasped my hand and led the way out of the dining room. Giuliano was almost running down the hallway. “Why are you in a hurry?” I asked.

  “I want to spend as much time with you as I can before we are missed.”

  Grinning, we rushed down the hallway and leaped down the stone steps two at a time. Once we were in the courtyard and I saw the empty pedestal again, I remembered what I wanted to ask Giuliano.

  “Giuliano?”

  “Si?”

  “I heard that you have a wonderful Donatello sculpture here.”

  “Had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was stolen.”

  “Oh … I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. We will get it back soon. Then you will have to come back and see it,” he said, guiding me under a portico of trees.

  “How can you be so sure you will get it back?”

  “Because Lorenzo cannot bear any other secrets other than his own,” admitted Giuliano. “This is all quite serious talk! I wanted to show you the garden and take you away from all that.” He waved at the fireflies of light that came from the windows overlooking the courtyard.

  Beneath the cover of leaves, I took a deep breath. How crisp it smelled beneath the damp green canopy. It had been so long since I had seen trees.

  “What I wanted to show you is farther along,” said Giuliano, squeezing my hand and leading me into Eden. He stopped at a clearing where there was a stone bench.

  Giuliano let go of my hand and crouched down by the bench. The bottle-green fabric of his tunic stretched across his athletic form as he reached for something behind the bench. When he turned around he held a potted plant with one purple flower blooming beneath a glass case.

  “It is probably the only one in the city, at least at this time of year.”

  Even in twilight the violet’s petals were vibrant. The plant’s round leaves touched the sides of its crystal prison. It struck me then that I felt like that flower. Mrs. Reed had plucked me from my home and planted me in a time I did not belong. “The glass is what keeps it from wilting,” said Giuliano placing the flower back behind the bench.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “But it is not as rare or as warm as my Viola,” he said, drawing me closer to the bench. “Do you know why this is called the city of flowers?” I shook my head. As Giuliano leaned closer to my face, I could feel his breath brush against my face and smell his minty cologne. My whole body felt like it was on fire. “It is said that during the Roman Empire, Florence was nestled in between hills and covered with flowers.”

  I could feel his cold fingers wrapped around the nape of my neck. My heart was beating louder than Idan’s tick, and I had lost feeling in my legs. He looked at my face for a moment. First, he stared into my eyes, but then his gaze roamed over every freckle and bead of sweat. With his other hand, he pressed the small of my back. As Giuliano locked his soft lips between my own, time sat still on that garden bench. His right hand moved up from my neck and into my hair and I could feel his arms pulling me closer to me.

  “Giuliano!” called Lorenzo from beyond the garden path. I pulled away, but Giuliano rested his forehead against mine.

  “I’m sorry, Viola,” he whispered.

  “For what?”

  “No matter what happens … I truly—” Lorenzo’s footsteps drew closer.

  “Truly what?” I asked. Giuliano got quickly to his feet. His brother came into the gap of trees.

  “Giuliano … Viola,” he said, his eyes catching my disheveled hair net.

  “I was just showing her the violet,” said Giuliano.

  “I hope that is all you were showing her.” Lorenzo frowned.

  “It’s v
ery clever. That is, the glass case you have the violet in,” I said, blushing.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Lorenzo, resuming his formal manner.

  An eerie feeling began to weed itself through the empty space that Giuliano’s kiss had left. How could it have all been over so quickly?

  “Would you be so kind as to grant me your promise?” asked Lorenzo.

  “Promise?”

  “To meet my acquaintance,” he said, offering me his arm. Before I took his arm, I glanced back in time to catch Giuliano’s miserable expression. “I trust you are enjoying your time?”

  “My time?” I asked as we walked back into the courtyard.

  “Yes, your time here in Florence.”

  “Oh, yes of course,” I said. While we climbed back up the steps, I wanted nothing more than to run out of the palace as fast as my poor running abilities would allow. “I sometimes forget that I am not really from here.”

  “I have not,” said Lorenzo. Dread strangled me as I loosened my grip on his arm. “That is … forgotten that you are from a different land.” With every step we took down the hallway, I shrunk smaller and smaller. The candles that had once seemed so magical were now leading the way to my funeral. It was strange to think that only minutes before, I had blissfully raced down the hallway. The music grew louder as we approached the dining room.

  Upon entering, my eyes darted frantically around the room for my chaperones. Sandro had worked up enough guts to talk to Simonetta again. He was kneeling attentively by her side while she picked at her custard. Leonardo was not in the room. As we moved further into the room, I could feel Idan’s steady tick hastening.

  “Pietro,” called Lorenzo. The man with the shaved head turned around. Idan began to move violently against my ribs. “Allow me to introduce … Viola Orofino,” said Lorenzo, gracefully moving my hand to the stranger’s. Unlike Lorenzo’s hand, Pietro’s hand had enough callouses to rival Verrocchio himself.

  “Please don’t let the music stop,” I whispered under my breath.

  “Enchanted,” he said, kissing my hand. “I am Pietro Sforza.”

  “Pietro is a visitor as well,” explained Lorenzo. “We invite a foreign judge from outside Florence as to not upset the scales of justice with our own city’s private rivalries.”

  “Yes, I am actually from Milan, but I am enjoying Florence immensely,” smiled Pietro as his eyes considered my every blink.

  “I find Pietro quiet indispensable. We seem to share all the same academic pursuits … Alas, he is leaving us soon and there is still so much more I hoped to learn from him.” Pietro’s smile broadened at Lorenzo’s words.

  “Tick-tock, tick-tock!” beat Idan

  “Surely, you give me more credit than I deserve.”

  “I always say exactly what I mean … Viola, Pietro has led me to so many brilliant discoveries, scrolls by philosophers long forgotten, artifacts that even Verrocchio would find hard to replicate. Unfortunately, time has ravished many of the scrolls.”

  “But no matter how long I stay, time will pass. Many a brilliant creation will decay and we will be none the wiser.”

  “Tick-tock-tick-tock!”

  “The very thought hardens my soul. To lose humanity’s revelations, it’s progress!” lamented Lorenzo.

  “Yes, but what you seek is an impossible thing.”

  “What do I seek?”

  “To control time,” answered Pietro without removing his eyes from me.

  “I would give up all you see before you for such a gift,” admitted Lorenzo.

  Rubbing my salty hands against my dress, I tried to plot my escape. Suddenly the music stopped. Poor Idan, who had been screaming to be heard, finally rang out.

  “What’s that sound?” asked Lorenzo.

  A flash of understanding crossed Pietro’s face. The creepy smile that curled up the sides of his face clashed with his sharp features and pointy mustache. From the corner of my eye, I caught Leonardo’s pink costume. He was urging me towards the entrance, but I was cornered.

  “Excuse me, Signore Medici and Signore Sforza, but I really must be going. My Zia has long been expecting me.”

  “Not so fast, Viola … before you leave I wanted you to show Pietro that curious trinket you have strung around your neck.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.” I grasped for my locket, but before I even had it in my palm Lorenzo protested. “No! That wasn’t it at all.”

  “Tick-tock-tick-tock!” Pietro seemed to be waiting for something to happen.

  “I think you told Giuliano it was an heirloom. Something about your grandfather being a pirate,” added Lorenzo. The lie sounded even dumber the second time around.

  “If I may be so bold, might it be on the other chain hanging around your neck?” insisted Pietro.

  I looked down and saw Idan’s gold chain peeking through the translucent material of the under dress.

  “Damn this organza,” I cursed under my breath. The whole elaborate plan dawned on me. Giuliano’s betrayal put me on the verge of tears.

  “What was that?” asked Lorenzo, who was poised to pounce on my neck.

  “Would you excuse me please … I am suddenly in need of the chamber pot room,” I said and strode off before they could protest.

  Leonardo raised his eyebrows as I approached the door. Once we turned the corner, we bolted down the hallway. Voices shouted our names from behind us but we did not stop. We could not stop.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Wings

  Leonardo was clearly enjoying our escape. He howled like a wolf as we ran through dark passageways. We skipped every pothole and veered past piles of manure. Rude complaints rang down on us from awoken sleepers. We darted past the cage of the lioness and flew down the Duomo steps ignoring drunken men stumbling home.

  “I am so out of shape,” I gasped. My throat felt like I had swallowed sand.

  “You really are,” agreed Leonardo, drenched in sweat.

  “Well let’s switch clothes and do the course over again.”

  “That might be fun,” considered Leonardo with a distinct twinkle in his eye. “So come now, tell me what happened.”

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to steady my legs with my hands. “Other than the Medicis conned me.” I balled my hands into fists, unable to abate the anger fermenting inside me.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “Not physically … It was all an elaborate trick. The banner, the dress, the kiss … it was all part of a plan,” I tried to swallow the lump of emotion that swelled in my throat.

  “Wait, wait! He kissed you?”

  “All they wanted was Idan!” I said, pushing aside his question.

  “Why not just sell it to them? I am sure they would pay you well.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my only way to get back home,” I confessed.

  “How can a tiny clock aid such a quest?”

  “It’s not a clock!” I cried out in frustration. It was exhausting trying to keep everything bottled up inside of me.

  “Then what is it?”

  “It controls time … somehow … but I haven’t figured out how yet. What I do know is that I need it to get back.”

  It was dark on the street save for the dim light coming from Zia’s fireplace and the half-moon’s radiance. Still heaving, I leaned against the crude walls of my safe haven waiting for Leonardo to interrupt the silence.

  “Are you saying you come from a different time?” I looked up and down the street, terrified at my own outburst. “Viola … I think you need some rest. Perhaps you need to sit down? I know you are upset but—”

  “I am upset!” I rubbed my eyes on the embroidered sleeves. “But I am not craz
y.”

  “I made no such—”

  “You didn’t have to. Your look said it all.”

  “But you are speaking of time travel!”

  “I’ve only done it once.” Gathering the train of my dress, I sat down on the step. “Do you have any more of that honey drink left? My throat is killing me.” Leonardo pulled out the flask from his cloak and passed it to me. I drank the last mouthful. The honey felt wonderful as it traveled down my raw throat. “You don’t believe me,” I said, passing him back his flask. I had been so hot from running that the cold’s breath was just beginning to shake me.

  “It is not that I don’t believe you … it is more that I choose not to believe anything I cannot see, touch, hear, or taste. In short, I trust nothing that I cannot dissect or deduce.”

  A cough ripped us from our private conversation.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Probably just a fisherman.” He peered in the direction of the sound. “I like the idea of something as ambitious as time travel,” he whispered. “I mean time traveling itself does not interest me. I am fine where I am. The concept of a device that moves the whole world interests me … but it is impossible.”

  “I liked your first word better. Ambitious.”

  “Sometimes I have ambitious ideas but, then I just never explore them because I think they are doomed to fail.”

  “Like what?”

  “You will laugh,” he said, staring at his feet.

  “I just told you I time traveled.”

  “True.” He smiled. “Well, for example, flying or being able to swim underwater without surfacing.”

  “I think you need to get out of your own way,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … I might be scared by a lot of things, but I’m never frightened by my own ideas.”

  “Wise words, dear sister,” said Leonardo, helping me to my feet. “So what happened with Idan?”