“What do you think?” he echoed.
“It’s a great hiding place.”
“You could hide here until the Medici tire of you.”
“No … I don’t like bats,” I said, staring at the towers of guano.
“I would love to paint this one day,” he admitted, casting a glow over the sediment’s stepped surfaces.
“How would you do it?”
“Study it and use it in a landscape.”
“A landscape of what?”
“The only thing I am really allowed to paint … portraits or scenes from the Bible.”
“Why can’t you paint anything else?”
“I can paint whatever I want. But if I want to eat, I will need to stick to commissions.” Several rocks boasted curves where mossy plants fought to conquer them. “Does it happen to you that certain memories are so sharp that the rest are pale by comparison?”
“I have a few, and you?”
“This cave is one of the few vivid memories I have from my childhood.”
I tried to recall my earliest memory in the flickering darkness, but my conscious clung to the sound of our voices ricocheting off the rocks that rose in towers around us.
“I’m glad you shared it with me, then,” I said.
“Well, if you are not going to hide out here, we should head back.”
“Hopefully Ginerva will be there by now,” I said.
Rosa was stretching her neck impatiently when we found her at the clearing. The ride back was quiet. All of the freedom that the open country had given us gradually disappeared as we scaled back up the hill. Once we arrived at the house, all the pressure that we had left behind in Florence had resettled on our shoulders.
“Is breakfast ready?” asked Leonardo, walking through the door.
“Almost … Oh good, there you are, Viola. We thought you had vanished into thin air,” said Nonna, holding up my white underdress.
“Mamma, look what you have done!” said Zio, seated at his usual spot. “The girl has not even been here a full day and she is dressing like a boy.” Nonna gave me an approving look.
“That was my doing. It was more practical for what we were doing,” said Leonardo. “Ana, could I have four fried eggs?” She nodded at the hefty order.
“Did anyone come this morning?” I asked the busy room.
“Not a soul,” said Ana. “But Margherita only woke up twice.”
“That’s good?”
“Very! She is a peaceful babe.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad it wasn’t too much trouble for you then,” I said, attempting not to look as disappointed as I felt. “I’m going to go change just in case they come.” When I returned all three had gathered around the table waiting to slop their brown bread into the golden yolks.
“I am sorry you two could not stay longer.” Zio frowned.
“Me too.” I smiled.
“We will have to leave right after breakfast,” said Leonardo before folding the entire runny egg into his mouth.
“They’re not coming,” I said.
“I’m afraid that is true,” said Nonna. “If they were coming they would have been here at the crack of dawn to make sure they did not miss you.” I looked out at the sunny window, resigning myself to the failed mission.
“We can’t wait even a little longer?”
“If you want to be locked out of the city,” he said, refusing the cut of bacon his uncle waved in his face. “Anyway, do you not have an appointment at the Signoria?” Fluids and morsels gushed around my stomach as I tried to keep my food down.
“I am sorry, my dear. I wish we could take her on, she is such a lovely babe, but we just cannot,” said Nonna.
I politely finished the goat cheese left on my plate even though my appetite had left. I tried to delay our departure, but Leonardo had the horse packed and ready to ride within the hour. Before we walked outside, I paid Ana for all her help.
“I would say until we meet again, but I know that we will not,” said Nonna while she embraced me. “You have a good spirit … Let it shine freely.”
“You best be careful at the Signoria,” warned Zio, lifting Margherita and I up onto Rosa. “I heard they will stick anyone in that tower of theirs.” My heart skipped a beat. “Just joking.” He laughed.
“Well now that you have thoroughly spooked Viola, we will be off,” said Leonardo.
“Come back soon, my boy.”
“Nonna! I am hardly a boy anymore,” he said, nudging Rosa into gear.
“Arrivederci!” he yelled before we cantered out of sight.
The closer we came to Florence the more I would turn back to see if anyone was following us. Menacing clouds loomed above us as the number of outer city hovels and villages increased. Margherita’s milky breath warmed my skin. “You have a lovely family,” I said, breaking the stillness.
“They liked you too.”
“Really?”
“What a thing to say! Of course they did. What is not to like?”
“You are just being sweet because you know there is a troop of guards waiting outside Zia’s house.”
“No, I really think that. But it pains me to say that you are right about one thing.”
“Just one?”
“Si, you’re not going to make it to the Signoria by sunset. Which means—”
“I’ll be late,” I finished. As we ascended the road to the colossal doors of Porta Romana the wind bashed us and the overcast thickened. “I’m sorry, little lady,” I whispered to the woolen nook. “I failed you.”
“That is false,” said Leonardo in an unusually soft voice. “Her mother would understand.” The door was about to close when we rounded the last curve. “OY! Marco, wait!” The doors stopped.
“Cutting it too close, Leonardo,” whistled the guard. Despite his taunting, he looked relieved to see us. “Why did you lie to me?” he asked staring me straight in the eyes.
“About what?”
“Don’t peg me for a fool, Leo, you know exactly what.” He pointed to me.
“I am sorry, friend, it was an emergency … and we are back now, so no harm done, right?”
“Wrong,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “I had to lie to the most powerful man in Tuscany to cover your tracks. Almost pissed myself.”
“You were covering your tracks, too,” barked Leonardo. Marco’s mouth gaped as if he were about to say something awful.
“I’m so sorry, Marco,” I said. “It was for the baby that I left. I hope you aren’t in too much trouble.” His mouth closed and the furrow on his high forehead resided.
“And I hope you find your way out of trouble, young lady.”
“Me too.”
“Off with you then,” said the guard with a shooing motion. Leonardo jolted tired Rosa back in motion.
“Where are we off to?” asked Leonardo as we turned off the main street. “The Signoria or the Orphanage?”
“Neither. Let’s go to Zia’s.”
“You are sure?”
“Yeah, they’ll come and get me anyway. It doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for them.”
“As you say,” said Leonardo. It was not long before Rosa’s tired hooves resonated off the cobblestones of Via dei Benci. A lively fire gleamed through the curtains of Zia’s house. “I will go in with you.”
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“How else will you get down?”
“True.”
“Plus you should not have to face Zia alone.”
“Thanks, Leo,” I said as he helped me down. “Here it goes.” I knocked on the door. The scurry of footsteps from within gave me time to prepare myself to watch Zia’s hopeful face fade to disappointment.
“Buonasera,” said an unfamiliar voice. I looked up from my special cargo. A woman in her late twenties was standing authoritatively in Zia’s doorway.
“Where is Zia?”
“She is here,” said the woman, kindly glancing at my sling. She stepped away from the doorway to give us enough room to enter the steamy room.
“Oh my God.” I breathed when I noticed Antonio sitting at my chair by the kitchen table.
“Buonasera, Viola,” he stood up. Zia came out of the cupboard carrying a dusty bottle.
“Oh, my sweet child! I was so worried that the gate would be closed before you returned. It kept me up all night as I remembered after you left that I forgot to tell you about the curfew.” Even though she was sharing her worries, I could see that inside she was all lit up. She was not smiling but she radiated goodness.
“I’m sorry I worried you, Zia.”
“How is Margherita?”
“Sleeping,” I said, placing a protective hand over the sling. The wool cloth had rubbed away at my skin to the point that blood had started to ooze from my pores. My eyes lingered on the young woman with the raven hair. She stood away in the corner at a safe distance from me.
“Viola and Leonardo, this is my son-in-law, Antonio, and my daughter, Ginerva.”
“Why didn’t you come to meet me in Vinci?” I asked Antonio, ignoring Zia’s civil introduction.
“We didn’t know who you were,” said Antonio. “We came to talk to Zia and make sure this was not a trick.”
“It was not our intention to worry you,” added Ginerva. I was livid but I could not pinpoint why. She took a step closer to me. “I realize I have handled the situation poorly. No words can turn back time, but we have spoken and we will both try to fill the void that has grown between us for so long.”
“Just like that?” I said, locking eyes with the mysterious woman. Her black straight hair fell to her hips and matched the dark circles around her eyes.
“No, it will take time … I can understand your anger. You must think me an abominable person.”
“I wouldn’t put it in those exact words, but I’d rather see Margherita grow up in an orphanage than be with a family torn apart by grudges.”
“I agree. That is why we are moving back to Via dei Benci.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“You have brought us together again,” interjected Zia, grabbing hold of my hand.
“Ginerva didn’t make it easy for me,” I said, looking at the envelope on the table.
“That is for you,” said Zia, following my gaze.
“Who brought it?”
“A woman, but since she was veiled I could not tell who it was.” She shrugged.
I picked up the envelope. The crimson horse seal dripped sloppily down the envelope.
“Open up!” sounded the metal fist against wood. “Official Medici business!” The boom grew louder.
“Viola, what is this? What is wrong, my child?” a panicked Zia asked.
I broke the wax and unfolded the parchment. There was only one word on the page.
Run!
CHAPTER THIRTY
Window
Run? Where am I going to run to? You forgot to leave the address of your hideout, Mrs. Reed, I thought bitterly, crumpling the note in my hand.
“Open the door!” repeated the man behind the door. Antonio walked to the door.
“What does it say?” asked Leonardo but the question was lost in the chaos that ensued when Antonio opened the door. An official guard clad in half armor crossed the humble threshold. A cold breeze broke through the room’s comfort.
“I’m here to escort Viola Orofino to the Palazzo della Signoria,” he said.
Zia approached him, armed with her renewed vigor, looking as though she could take him down in one blow. Antonio stood between them, unsure of what to do. For a brief moment I debated running out through the pantry door, past Georgina’s raggedy coop, and down the alley. The guard was tall. I could tell by his wide calves that tapered from his tunic that it would not be long before I would feel his hand yanking my sweater collar. The guard’s eyebrows reared in shock at Zia’s harsh protective threats. It was unclear whether he moved towards me to escape Zia or to seize me.
“Wait!” I yelled over the confusion. “I will go … Lorenzo and I have an appointment after all,” I admitted to the surprise of all. “I apologize for being late. Signore Medici must have been worried and sent you, right?” The guard looked uneasily around the room and cleared his throat.
“Si,” he said.
I crossed the distance that separated Ginerva and me. Margherita’s eyes winced as I moved her from out of the woolen womb. I bent my head to kiss her fuzzy forehead. It was heartbreaking to nuzzle my nose against her smooth skin. Hints of our adventure remained in the lavender notes that stuck to her dark hair. As I gently offered her up to Ginerva, I was saying a prolonged goodbye to her mother.
“I hope you give her a beautiful beginning,” I said, peeling the sling from the dry blood that had gathered beneath the wool.
It was good to see the motherly spark in Ginerva’s face before I followed the guard towards the entrance. Zia grabbed my sleeve before I made it to the door. I did not mean to be such a coward. Although I knew it would be hard to say farewell to Margherita, the idea of leaving Zia forever was unthinkable. Deep down, I thought it would leave a gash so profound that nothing would stitch it together. She had welcomed, clothed, and loved me with all the sensitivity that only a selfless mother could offer. Tears ran through the wrinkles of her face. I gathered all my bravery to spare her any grief.
“Why are you crying, Zia?” I asked steadying my trembling mouth. “I’ll be back soon.”
“You say that, but I don’t believe you, my sweet Viola.”
“How can you be so sad? Look what a happy family I leave you with.”
“But you are also my family,” she said. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped my wrist. I squeezed her tightly against me and kissed her grey scalp.
“I love you, Zia,” I whispered as drops rolled down my nose. I looked up at Leonardo for comfort, but his sulk left me wanting. The guard clutched my arm and pulled me out the door. I looked behind my shoulder to the despondent huddle that stared after us. “There is no need for you to hold on to me,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“I’m a terrible runner,” I said, drying my face with my free hand.
He did not let go but his grip loosened when we turned onto the Piazza della Signoria. The clouds’ drizzle only added to the low fog that fumed about the square. As we drew near a set of guards opened its doors. The entrance opened onto a large courtyard supported by massive columns, thick with elaborate carvings of winged figures flying among splendid gardens. I walked into the courtyard, but the guard directed me to a staircase that broke off from the entrance. He guided me through a room with gold coffered ceilings that harbored dozens of glittering rosettes and gilded lilies. It was not until we walked through the next room that the guard let go of me. Lorenzo sat at a long table that stretched the length of the narrow room.
“So good of you to come,” he said without lifting his eyes from the paper.
“It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice,” I said.
Lorenzo raised his eyes but the hand armed with the quill finished its thought. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the chair’s stiff bolted leather.
“Do you like choices?” he asked. I let the trick questions pass away unanswered. “I promise to give you a choice in a few moments.” He stood up abruptly. “No need to worry … I always keep my promises. Unlike a certain little flower I know.”
“I never bro—”
“You broke an engagement,” he said harshly. “Pray do not interrupt
me. I cannot abide it.” As he strode across the room, the sound of his boots’ heels dampened against the tapestries that hung along the walls. “I’m a busy man, Viola. So when I tell you to meet me at sunset that means …”
I stared at my shoes, unwilling to play his game. He forced my head up with his right hand. I could see the veins around his temples burn and his mouth twitch with irritation.
“Bind her hands and then you may leave us, Alessandro.” The guard clasped my hands behind my back and wrapped them tightly with rope before leaving the room. Lorenzo let go of my face and held his hand out expectantly. “I do not mean to be impertinent, but I am sure you will understand,” he said, slithering his frozen fingers around my neck. I cringed as they grasped Idan’s chain and pulled it. “I am upset, Viola.” He smiled at Idan’s intricate cover. “Do you know why?” I said nothing. “Because I don’t enjoy acting the role of a tyrant,” he continued. “You see, I never asked for this …” He gestured towards his surroundings. “In order for my family to survive, it is my duty to maintain and foster the power that has been given to me most unwillingly.” He moved towards the fireplace. “You see, I am just a scholar with little … time. I need it to pursue what I love.” He walked closer to the fire. “It is not a selfish mission … All humanity will benefit from every discovery I make and every artist I employ to realize my vision. Now, enough about me, tell me about yourself and Idan of course.”
He opened Idan’s case. As he peered down at its face, his shoulders tightened and his back arched. Long minutes of eerie silence slipped past. Even the flames burned without sound. I looked up at the woven angels for help but none came. His jaw had loosened from his scowl, and his eyes gaped at the pocket watch.
“I did not bring you here to listen to myself. You shall speak. If you choose not to, you will regret that choice, my dear,” he said, pulling out a knife from his belt.
Lost in the City of Flowers (The Histories of Idan Book 1) Page 28