Countless, because I still had no idea how many encounters we’d shared.
Despite what Constantia thought I should know, I still had no memory of Simonetta’s life prior to my arrival. But I knew my relationship with Mariano was on a very personal level, and I couldn’t leave Florence in any fashion without saying goodbye to my afterlife soul mate, knowing what his fate would be.
“As you wish,” Sandro finally replied.
We made our way across the river in silence. Sandro started to speak several times, but stopped himself. Deep down, he must have known he had nothing to fear.
“When we get to the tavern, do you think I could have a moment alone with your father?” I asked.
“I cannot send you into such a place by yourself,” Sandro replied.
The noise of the tavern could be heard as soon as we stepped off the Ponta alla Carraia. I was about to argue my case for going it alone, when I saw the familiar Paolo stumbling towards us. His tattered, filthy clothes hung in shreds from his body, and his odor preceded his voice.
“Ya’ got any change for an ol’ man?” he begged.
“Well at least you asked for something different this time.” I shrugged, and Sandro reached into his satchel for an offering.
Paolo clumsily pointed towards the brothel with one hand, as he grasped the coins from Sandro with the other. “Ya’ see there’s this girl I’d like ta’—”
“Oh, no you don’t!” I scolded, as I smacked the change from his hands. “You’d better get away before I kick you again!” Paolo quickly scurried off, and Sandro looked at me in shock. “It’s a long story,” I explained. “I’m just gonna go on in alone, okay?”
“Yes, I believe you can handle yourself,” he conceded, and sat down on a bench near the river. He appeared particularly confused when I stopped to rub dirt on my face, before making my way into the tavern.
Mariano was planted in his usual barstool, hovering over a goblet. I squeezed myself in between him and another lonely customer, who, instead of pinching my behind as expected, kindly relinquished his stool to me. Mariano glanced up from his goblet, which had clearly been emptied a number of times judging from his glazed, half-mast eyes.
“Simonetta Vespucci!” he semi-slurred, with a numb expression.
“No, I’m Stacia. Remember?”
“Yes, Stacia. You grace us lowly peasants with your company, eh?”
“Mariano, I’m also a lowly peasant.” I glanced around to see who might be listening, then leaned in towards him. “And I’ve been locked in my chamber for weeks,” I whispered.
“What? That is an outrage!” He stood from his chair and pounded an angry fist on the bar, causing all eyes to turn towards us.
I quickly pushed him back into his stool. “It’s all right, Mariano. Sandro helped me sneak out.”
“Sandro again,” he huffed. “My only brother left all the money to Sandro. The Medici and the Rucellai adore him. It’s always about Sandro. The world loves him…even you.”
“So do you Mariano. And you should show it!” I barked. It was clear to me now that the problems between father and son boiled down to nothing but pure and simple envy. “Don’t you realize he would do anything for you? He’s just doing what makes him happy. Can’t you see that?”
Mariano coughed a few times before responding. “But…you….you were my…friend. You are the angel that healed Jacopo, if only for a moment. You are not of this world. I never thought any mortal man could capture your love, or I would have tried…for myself.”
“I’m a flesh and blood woman, Mariano,” I replied, although I knew it wasn’t entirely true. “And I love you as well. You’re my friend and my soul mate, but I have to say goodbye to you now.”
“Fare thee well, then.” He waved dismissively, without questioning the reason for my sudden adieu.
“Why don’t we help you home?” I offered. He was drunker than I’d ever seen him. I think.
“I am no concern of yours, Stacia.” He turned his back to me and asked the barkeep to refill his goblet. I put a hand to his dismissive shoulder, knowing once Sandro left for Rome they would never see each other again.
“Mariano, you don’t have much time to make things right with Sandro. You just have to trust me.” He never turned in my direction. I resigned to the futility of having a conversation he probably wouldn’t remember anyway. Maybe there were some problems I just wasn’t meant to resolve.
Exasperated, I took a swig from some gent’s goblet, then sauntered out of the tavern to meet Sandro, who still waited patiently outside. I contemplated proposing we drag Mariano’s sad ass out of the tavern against his will, but somehow I knew it wasn’t the right move.
When we made our way back through Sandro’s house and into the Palazzo Vespucci, we stopped in Antonella’s chamber to check on Luciana.
Marco leapt up upon our arrival. “She awakened briefly and required some water,” Marco explained. “So I gave it to her.” He was obviously proud of himself for completing a menial task. I immediately excused him.
After observing Luciana for a time, Sandro and I went into my bedchamber. I felt drawn to the window and gazed out over Florence, while mulling the evening’s events. I became lost in thought, clinging to my Miraculous Medal.
My reverie must have lasted longer than I thought, because when I snapped out of my fog, I realized that Sandro had drawn a complete sketch of me. He captured every detail: my tired, schlumpy posture, the disheveled hair that peeked out from my skullcap, the hideous brown servant’s dress, and the black cord that held the charm around my neck. It was a true “warts and all” sketch minus what remained of the dirt I’d rubbed on my face.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I look dreadful.”
“I have never seen you so thoughtful,” he replied. “Twas an expression I had not yet captured from you. And I want them all.”
He set the sketch down on the chair, and removed my skullcap, allowing my hair to fall freely. He then took a cloth from a bowl of water that rested on a nearby table and wiped the grime from my face. Tears came to my eyes as he kissed me softly, despite my haggard appearance, and before long he was making love to me even more gently—as if he knew what was to come.
In the afterglow, I lay on his chest for a time, almost drifting off to a peaceful sleep before I heard Luciana call for me. Not for Marco, but for me.
“Simonetta!”
I threw on my shift, then moved back to Sandro to study each individual detail of his face. Kissing him with all the passion I could muster, I tried to express every emotion I felt for him with the touch of my lips against his.
I donned both Sandro and myself in the makeshift masks for the trip through what had now become Luciana’s chamber. When Sandro went for the door to the hidden staircase, I reached for his other hand, and his eyes smiled as his fingers slowly slid from mine, and the door closed behind him.
Luciana coughed uncontrollably, and her flushed skin told me her fever had risen again. I stood motionless as she called out to me once more.
“Simonetta!”
Still frozen in place, I considered Constantia’s words: You know what you must do.
If I ran away with Sandro now, I would surely live longer. We could spend our days, together in obscurity, hiding from the powerful families that would seek to destroy us. But he’d never paint another masterpiece. And most of his best work was yet to come—The Birth of Venus, Primavera, Pallas and the Centaur, Venus and Mars. I trembled as I recalled Sandro’s oeuvre, and felt the loss of each piece vanishing before me.
But if I refused to go with Sandro, his heart would be broken for all time. Even though I knew he would continue to paint, it was Simonetta’s wish that he understand her love for him, not give it, then take it away. It was my whole purpose for being here. I knew I was left with only one choice. I moved towards Luciana, who was now pleading for my help, removed the Miraculous Medal from my neck and tied it onto hers, then pulled the mask from my face.
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Chapter 46
I awakened the following morning slumped in a chair by the small bed. As I wiped the drool from my cheek, Luciana was standing next to me, tapping my shoulder incessantly. Her color had returned, and she wore an uncharacteristic smile on her face, while my Miraculous Medal dangled from her hand. It turned out to be truly miraculous after all.
“Are you ill, Idio…Simonetta?” Luciana asked.
“No, I’m fine. Just a little run down, I guess. But you look much better!”
“I am…thanks to you.” Luciana tied the necklace back around my neck and put a hand on my shoulder. “You have caused me to consider many things.”
I stretched my arms and yawned. “Such as?” I wanted her to have to say it.
Luciana sat on the bed across from me and leaned forward. “I have been wrong in my hatred of you, Simonetta.”
Yup.
“And have placed my affections with the wrong person as well,” she sighed.
“Marco?”
Now that was a surprise.
“He will never go against his father. He would have let me die in the streets if not for your intervention. I know this now. But I cannot stay here in this room forever. It is only a matter of time before I am discovered.”
“Do you have family?” I asked, scratching my head at her dilemma.
“My parents sold me to a slave trader in Sicily when I was seven years old in order to feed the other children. I have no wish to return to them. But I was so grateful to be taken into this beautiful palazzo. I have spent most of life between these walls, and yet Piero thought nothing of casting me out for the crime of loving his son.”
“Piero treats everyone like a commodity. He tried to trade me to the Medici in exchange for the seat of Priorate,” I said in commiseration. “But that gives me an idea!” I leaped from the chair. “Though, I’ll need some help.”
I climbed the stairs to Amerigo’s room, and opened the door slowly so as not to startle him. I found Antonella alone, sewing at Amerigo’s map-covered desk.
“Antonella,” I whispered. “Where’s Amerigo?”
She barely looked up at me. “He is at the Palazzo Medici working for Lorenzo.”
“Since when?”
“This is his first day,” Antonella responded. “It seems Piero now favors Amerigo over his own son, and has arranged for him to learn the trade of banking. Amerigo is quite pleased.”
Antonella never looked me in the eye, and became particularly forceful with her stitching.
“Are you angry with me?” I asked.
“You have chosen that ill-tempered wretch over me, Netta,” she said, finally turning her tearful eyes on me. “I have served you my whole life.”
“What? No!” I marched over to Antonella, pulled her up from the chair and embraced her tightly, tears now streaming from my eyes as well. Despite all my efforts, it seemed I’d inadvertently created more unfinished business.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Antonella,” I said, and pushed myself back from her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “I just needed a place for Luciana to hide. I figured you’d be happy up here for a few days.”
“Even though I choose to spend my nights with Amerigo, my days are devoted to you. And you know I will suffer the same fate as Luciana if I am caught in here.”
“I’m sorry, Antonella. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Though, I suppose I understand,” she sighed. “It has always been in your nature to assist the ailing.”
“Well, she’s much better now, but needs a place to go. I was hoping Amerigo could help me with something.”
I guess I’ll have to go with Plan B.
I convinced Antonella to return with me to her chamber, so she might witness Luciana’s miraculous recovery. Once there, Antonella greeted her coolly, but Luciana embraced her anyway.
“You have helped save my life, Antonella,” Luciana said. “I am grateful.”
“Yes,” Antonella replied, as she pushed back from Luciana and smoothed her dress. “I see that.” I gave Antonella a not-so-subtle kick in the leg as payback for the many she’d given me. “You are welcome,” Antonella finally said.
After Antonella helped me get cleaned and dressed, we hid Luciana in Antonella’s chamber, then pounded on the door leading to my sitting room. After a long while, Carlo unlocked and opened the door.
“What do you require?” Carlo asked, annoyed.
“I wish to see my husband,” I insisted.
“You require him so early in the morn, Signora?” Carlo winked. “The master still sleeps.”
“Just get him, Carlo!” I growled through clenched teeth, with fire burning from my eyes.
“Very well,” he grunted and trotted off.
Within a few moments, Marco came to my door, wearing only a white, mid-thigh length smock. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his pale, skinny legs, as he panicked his way into the room, and I shut the door behind him. “Does she live?”
“Yes, she does,” Luciana answered, as she entered my chamber. “No thanks to you.”
“I…I…,” Marco stuttered. “I’m so glad you are well.”
“Never mind that right now, Marco,” I interrupted. “I need you to retrieve Giuliano de’ Medici, and bring him here.”
“I cannot just barge into the Palazzo Medici and demand he come hither. My father is trying to make an impression…”
“Stop being such a sissy-man!” I smacked him across the shoulder. “Luciana needs a place to go, and I believe Giuliano can help.”
He sought alliance from Luciana, who instead pointed a stern finger towards the door. Even if he was going to deny me, there was no way he’d risk the wrath of Luciana.
“Very well,” he muttered and obediently scurried off, tail between his legs.
Antonella scraped some rations together from the kitchen, and returned with cheese, wine, and stale bread for the three of us to share while we waited in my chamber for Giuliano.
“I’ll bet you never imagined this scenario,” I teased the two of them as they sat next to each other on the bed, dipping their bread into the same goblet.
“No, I most certainly did not,” Antonella replied. And a small smile crept across her lips, which was returned by Luciana.
The three of us jumped up when a key turned in the door. Luciana quickly ran to hide in Antonella’s chamber before it swung open. And when we did, Marco was nowhere in sight, but Carlo made sure lady and attendant were properly positioned in the sitting room before escorting in my gentlemen caller. Carlo excused himself, only too willing to give me privacy with the Medici Golden Boy.
“I hear I have been summoned,” Giuliano greeted, and took a chair across from mine. “This is an unusual surprise, Simonetta.”
“Yes, well, there is a pressing matter at hand.”
“Oh?” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“Piero cast one of the servants, by the name of Luciana, from the palazzo when she was caught in bed with my husband.”
“As he should have!”
“Really, Giuliano? I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who values the laws of matrimony.”
“But a servant?” he scoffed.
Antonella cleared her throat to make him aware of her presence, and I interjected. “Oh, please. You’ll have me believe you’ve never touched a servant in your palazzo?”
“Never!” he scoffed.
“Well, that’s perfect then. I want you to take Luciana into your household. She’s been a faithful servant here, and will serve the Medici well from now on.”
“I think not.”
“I’m begging you, Giuliano. Her only other options are prostitution or rotting on the streets.”
“Not interested. To what do I owe her? Or you, for that matter? My brother is the civil servant. Why do you not take it up with him?”
“I should like to have a conversation with your brother,” Antonella added. “Is he yet aware that you married Fioretta Gorini without his
permission?”
Married to Fioretta Gorini? Was he not just pursuing me while betrothed to my cousin?
But by the look of shock that washed over his face, I judged that it must be true.
“No, please. You mustn’t inform him. You do not understand the consequences I will suffer.”
“Then we have an arrangement?” I asked.
“Very well.”
I could get used to men cowering to my will.
“There’s one more thing.”
“Yes, La Bella,” Giuliano answered, sarcastically.
“Luciana will be allowed to marry, if she wishes. A dowry should be provided.”
He huffed before answering, then raised his hands in exasperation. “As you wish.”
“You’ll enjoy her, Giuliano.” I smiled, deviously. “She has a lot of…spunk.”
I opened the door to my chamber, causing Luciana to fall into the sitting room as if she had her ear pressed to the door the whole time. She’d removed her Vespucci servant’s dress, and helped herself into one of my more elegant gowns—one of a deep purple velvet—which perfectly accentuated her beautiful, dark skin.
“I gave you that dress!” Giuliano complained.
“But it looks great on Luciana.”
She marched straight over to Giuliano and took his arm as if being escorted as his royal date, rather than his servant. Speechless, he made his way for the door.
In the hallway, the pair passed Marco, who, after his head spun around on his shoulders, ran into my sitting room, startled. “What is the meaning of this?” Marco demanded.
“You should be happy for her, Marco. She’s alive and headed for the palazzo of Florence’s first family rather than the streets. You can rest assured she’ll be taken care of.”
“But—“
“And now I need another favor.”
“Huh?”
“I need you to fetch Leonardo da Vinci from the shop of Verrocchio.”
Chapter 47
Leonardo appeared a bit more mature than the last time I’d seen him. A short beard had formed on his young face, and a growth of dark hair peaked out from under a large beret that topped his head.
What Remains of the Fair Simonetta Page 24