Allegra

by C. De Melo

  “No, but it can be a dangerous thing.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m a few years older than you, and have been watching the young men at my father’s court since I was a child. Whenever there’s a new young lady present, the competition among the men begins—lavish compliments, gifts, and declarations of love abound until the lady surrenders to one of them. Once she does, the man will inevitably lose interest and go on to the next conquest. If the lady is lucky, all she’ll suffer is a broken heart. If the man in question is a cad, she may lose her good reputation.”

  Allegra’s face paled. “This can’t be true of all men.”

  “No,” Lucrezia conceded. “But more often than not it is. I’m telling you this as your friend. You’ll be presented to society soon, and you don’t want to be like a lamb among the wolves.”

  “What advice do you have to offer?”

  “Guard your heart and keep it safe, don’t trust men.”

  The Medici celebrated another wedding in September of that same year. In an attempt to secure the Tuscan border, Isabella was given in marriage to Paolo Giordano Orsini, Duke of Bracciano. Unlike Alfonso, her charming and handsome brother-in-law, Paolo was stout, unattractive, and brash.

  To Isabella’s relief, her husband left the following day, leaving his bride and her sizeable dowry behind in Florence. Cosimo himself had insisted upon this unusual arrangement because he distrusted his son-in-law. His desire to keep his daughter close was a blessing in disguise to Isabella. As a married woman with plenty of money at her own disposal, she enjoyed considerable freedom and exercised control over her own affairs; much more so than was customary for Florentine women.

  Freed from the clutches of their husbands, the Medici sisters attended parties and other social events with their maids and ladies as chaperones. They continued to ride their horses through the lush Tuscan countryside each morning, and Allegra was grateful for their company. She looked up to the two older girls as role models, and someday hoped to enjoy a similar liberal marriage arrangement.

  ***

  Two years later, Lucrezia broke Allegra’s heart as they rode their horses along the city wall toward San Niccolò. “I received news last night of my husband’s safe return to Ferrara.”

  Knowing her friend’s departure was both imminent and inevitable, Allegra began to cry. She reigned Dolcezza to a halt, and watched her breath form vaporous swirls in the cold February morning.

  Lucrezia urged her horse closer to the mare. “Don’t cry, Allegra. We knew this day would come. At least Isabella will still be here in Florence. She’s very fond of you.”

  “I have great affection for your sister, but she’s not you.”

  “We can continue our friendship through correspondence.”

  “As much as your letters will gladden my heart, it’s not the same as seeing you and hearing your voice,” Allegra lamented, wiping the wetness from her face. “You’ll be sorely missed.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  Allegra reached into the pouch at her waist and pulled out a sapphire ring. “I’ve been keeping abreast of the news and carrying this around for several months. I knew it was only a matter of time before Alfonso demanded your return. This is for you, something to remember me by.”

  Lucrezia gazed in awe at the ring before slipping it onto her middle finger. “What an unusual design. I love it, thank you.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Allegra waited for her friend to nod before confessing, “I made it myself.”

  Lucrezia stared at her incredulously. “You made this? How?”

  “My father taught me. I’ve been making jewelry for years, actually.”

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  Allegra shook her head. “He told me never to tell anyone.”

  “Your father is right. Women aren’t meant to do the work of men. The magistrates and the clergy would disapprove, not to mention the guilds. Don’t worry, I’ll never reveal your secret.” Looking down at the fine ring, she added, “I’ll treasure your gift forever.”

  The sadness Allegra experienced after Lucrezia’s departure lasted weeks. During this time, she consoled herself at her father’s side, sketching out new ideas and experimenting with new designs.

  “I’m worried about our daughter,” Stefania said to Vittorio one day.

  “It’s normal for her to miss her friend,” he pointed out. “She’ll be fine, you’ll see. Come and take some fresh air with me on the terrace.”

  “I thought you had work to do.”

  “I have a moment to spare, and the day is pleasant.”

  They stepped onto the terrace and admired the vista. A sea of terracotta rooftops stretched toward the Arno River. The water shimmered beneath the early afternoon sunshine while a balmy breeze caressed their faces.

  Stefania closed her eyes and whispered, “When we were first married, I believed we would have a house full of children. Sometimes, when I’m alone and the house is quiet, I imagine the sounds of their laughter and running footsteps.”

  Vittorio took hold of her hand. “That was my dream, too. God must have had his reasons for denying us a bigger family.” He paused. “Stefania, I’ve been thinking…You give alms to the poor, so why not spread your Christian charity to the Spedale degli Innocenti?”

  “Our servants disperse bread and coins to the city’s monasteries and convents on a daily basis, including that one.”

  “Yes, but I’m suggesting that you go to the orphanage to spend time with the orphans.” When she continued looking at him askance, he explained, “Bestowing affection and attention on the needy children may ease your restless spirit, my love. Besides, I’m sure the nuns would appreciate the extra help.”

  It seemed foolish to Stefania that she had never thought of this idea before. She and Gianna set off for the orphanage located in the Piazza della Santissima Annunziata in a hired litter the following morning. When they knocked on the door of the Spedale degli Innocenti, a middle-aged nun with rosy cheeks opened the door.

  “Buongiorno,” Stefania said. “I would like to speak with whomever is in charge.”

  The nun waved them inside. “That would be me. I’m Sister Federica. How can I be of service, Signora…?”

  Stefania motioned to Gianna, who handed the nun a heavy coin purse. “My name is Stefania Castagno. Please accept this gift on behalf of our household.”

  The nun inclined her head in gratitude. “God bless you and your family for this act of generosity.”

  Stefania eyes darted around the room. “Where are the children?”

  “Most of them are learning their catechism right now.”

  “Perhaps I can see them afterward?”

  Sister Federica’s brow creased slightly. “The midday meal follows catechism, then the children are taught basic skills in order to be apprenticed to blacksmiths, butchers, and other tradesmen when they’re old enough.” She paused and added tactfully, “You can rest assured that your monetary gift will be put to good use.”

  Stefania did not move. “Actually, I wish to see the babies.”

  “Are you and your husband wanting to adopt a child?”

  “Not exactly…I wanted to hold them, if possible.” The nun’s eyes narrowed and Stefania licked her lips nervously. “I’m unable to have any more children, and my daughter is almost a young lady. I thought that, maybe, I could help the nuns in caring for the orphaned infants.”

  “I understand,” Sister Federica said as realization lit up her plain features. “I was married once—many years ago. I could not provide my husband with an heir, so he remarried and my family forced me into a convent.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stefania offered.

  “Christ is a much better husband, I assure you,” the nun said cheerfully. “Come this way. We have a total of nine infants at the moment and we would gladly accept any help in caring for them.”

  Stefania and Gianna were led into a room full of tiny beds and mismatched cradles th
at were obviously donated. A young novice was trying to change a baby out of its soiled linens while pacifying another one who cried loudly. The sound awakened Stefania’s maternal instinct, and she immediately took the fussing baby into her arms, leaving the novice to finish her messy task.

  “There, there, little one. Hush now,” Stefania cooed while gently rocking the infant. Soothed, the chubby blonde boy smiled, melting her heart in the process. “Sister Federica, I can come help you every day, if you wish.”

  The nun crossed herself. “God be praised.”

  Stefania developed a rigid daily schedule that began at dawn. She would spend the entire morning at the orphanage and arrive home in time for the midday meal. Sometimes, she returned in the evening if any of the children were ill or there was a shortage of available nuns. As Vittorio had predicted, the needy infants soon filled the emptiness in her life.

  Gianna watched over Allegra in her mother’s absence, deepening the already existing bond between the two of them. When Allegra’s womanly flow began, the kind servant comforted the girl and concocted a tonic to ease her painful cramps.

  Stefania came home later that day and found her daughter in bed. “What ails you, child?”

  Gianna emerged from the antechamber followed by a servant carrying a basket of freshly washed linens. “Allegra became a woman this morning.”

  “It hurts,” Allegra whimpered as she clutched her lower abdomen.

  Stefania’s eyes misted as she stroked Allegra’s hair. “The pain only lasts a few days.”

  “Why does womanhood have to involve any pain at all?”

  Stefania smiled without mirth. “This is only the beginning, my dear.”

  ***

  The year 1560 was a difficult year for Allegra. In addition to Lucrezia’s departure from Florence, there were failed assassination attempts on her beloved godfather. Pandolfo Pucci, a longtime favorite of Cosimo, conspired with others to kill the Medici ruler after a heated argument. One of the plans involved waiting by the window of the Palazzo Pucci, and shooting Cosimo with a pistol as he passed on the street. Another plan was to hide gunpowder in Cosimo’s bedchamber while he was at mass, then quietly ignite it when he went to bed. What later came to be known as the Pucci Conspiracy led to the decapitation of a few traitorous men, and Pandolfo himself being hanged from the window of the Bargello.

  Chapter 6

  In April 1561, a little over one year after moving to Ferrara, Lucrezia de’ Medici died. Cosimo and Eleonora were stricken by this unexpected news. Reports of their daughter suffering fever, severe weight loss, and constant nosebleeds were met with suspicion. Soon, the question was on everyone’s mind: could Lucrezia have been poisoned?

  Rumors spread quickly throughout the city. In light of the recent Pucci Conspiracy, Medici allies seized the opportunity to prove their loyalty to their ruler. Several noblemen met with Cosimo one night in order to broach the topic of vendetta. In hushed tones, they delineated an elaborate assassination plot against Alfonso. Reluctant to act precipitously, Cosimo shook his head at their ideas.

  “Your Grace, someone must have poisoned your daughter,” reasoned one of the men. “Signora Lucrezia’s odd symptoms beg investigation.”

  Cosimo sighed. “Her body was thoroughly examined and there was no proof of poison.”

  “There was no proof of arsenic poisoning, but there are other less detectable toxins that can be obtained at an exorbitant price.”

  The gentleman at his side interjected, “And the Este family is wealthy enough to procure such rare poison.”

  “We can’t allow this crime to go unpunished,” said another.

  Cosimo frowned. “I’m not fully convinced of my son-in-law’s guilt in this matter.”

  “My lord—”

  Cosimo banged his hand on the table, startling the men. “I will not shed blood and risk a battle between Florence and Ferrara on mere speculation.” Narrowing his eyes, he warned, “If anyone acts against my authority by carrying out this scheme, he’ll be sent to the gallows. Have I been clear?”

  Wide-eyed and fearful, the men nodded.

  Cosimo sat back in his chair and sighed tiredly. “God saw fit to pluck my eldest child in the prime of her life. Despite our best efforts, Maria died of illness, so why can’t the same be true of Lucrezia?”

  There was no more talk of vendetta after that night, and no proof of wrongdoing ever surfaced from the court of Ferrara.

  News of Lucrezia’s untimely death came as a devastating shock to Allegra. There was never any mention of illness in the letters she’d received from Ferrara, which was both unusual and worrisome. Did Lucrezia suspect someone of intercepting her correspondence? If so, what was she afraid of? Were the rumors true? Could she have been poisoned?

  Shortly after learning of her friend’s death, Allegra received a message stating that Dolcezza obtained an infection in her hoof, which spread to her leg. The mare had to be put down.

  Allegra fell into a deep state of sadness. She barely ate, barely spoke, and spent most of her time closeted in the workshop mourning the loss of her friend and her horse.

  “She’ll get sick at this rate,” Stefania said to Vittorio one evening after supper. “Have you noticed how thin she’s become?”

  “I’m worried about her, too. Maybe we should get her a cat or a dog,” he suggested. “An animal companion would lift her spirits.”

  “Gianna has been administering her most potent tonics, but I don’t see any improvement in Allegra’s mood or appetite.”

  “It’s time to call the physician.”

  Stefania shook her head. “He’ll prod and poke her, then bleed her, which will only worsen her condition.”

  “What do you propose we do? Get her another horse?”

  “There’s only one thing in this world that offers Allegra both joy and consolation, and she needs it now more than ever. I wish to propose an idea.”

  Unable to sleep, Allegra went downstairs to select a book to read. Hearing her parents talking in the library, she cautiously peeked into the room.

  Stefania continued, “I think it’s time we secure an apprenticeship for our daughter. She needs instruction from a master goldsmith.”

  Allegra stepped back into the hallway and pressed herself against the wall, her heart racing with excitement.

  “Don’t be absurd,” Vittorio chided.

  “Have you seen her sketches lately? She has transformed the pain of loss into the most incredible designs I’ve ever seen.”

  “Her designs are extraordinary, I agree, but there isn’t a single bottega in Florence that would accept a girl.”

  “We swore to deprive our child of nothing.”

  “Allegra has never been deprived of anything! She’s been afforded a good education, she can read, write, and even speak Latin. There are male heirs in Florence who can barely spell their names.”

  “Allegra was born to be a goldsmith. She has the power to transform any scrap of metal you give her into something wonderful.”

  “Yes, she does,” he agreed. “Had she been born a boy…”

  Hearing this, Allegra ran off in tears.

  Gianna stood at the top of the stairwell wearing a scowl. “Signorina Allegra, must I remind you that it’s impolite to eavesdrop?”

  Ignoring the reprimand, Allegra said, “I hate being a girl.”

  “What nonsense is this?”

  “I want to be a goldsmith but my father won’t allow it.”

  “Although you’re extremely clever, you’re still young—”

  “I’m thirteen years old!”

  “Your father knows what’s best for your future. Now run along and go to bed. It’s late.”

  Allegra could not stop thinking about her father’s words as she lay in bed that night. Had she been born a boy…

  The following morning, Vittorio announced his imminent departure to Rome. Hearing this, a plan unfurled in Allegra’s head. The moment her father’s carriage disappeared from view, she r
an into the workshop and extracted careful measures of silver and gold from his supply. For the next few days, she worked arduously to create a pendant.

  Gianna and her mother usually napped after the heavy midday meal. When the household grew silent, Allegra donned her plainest gown and a black cloak. Pulling the hood low to conceal her face, she hid the pendant in her bodice and crept outside. Luckily, no one was in the courtyard as she tiptoed to the gate. The moment she was on the street, she walked briskly toward the Palazzo Strozzi. The corners of her lips lifted at the thought of the goldsmith’s possible reactions when he saw her work. Would he be surprised at her skill in relation to her age? Pleased? Perhaps even amazed?

  A toothless man stepped into Allegra’s path, causing her to gasp aloud in surprise. She was about to abandon her plan and run home when she noticed the man’s milky eyes.

  “Forgive me,” he croaked while tapping his walking stick on ground.

  Allegra sidestepped the blind man and slipped into the Piazza delle Cipolle where vendors sold melons, cabbages, and other foodstuffs. Pigeons and rats scurried around her feet foraging for scraps as she pressed between shoppers and market stalls. She stifled a giggle as an old woman balancing a basket of onions on her head collided with a man carrying a rickety cage of chickens. Flying feathers and cackling hens created a momentary ruckus before the two vendors cursed each other and went their separate ways.

  Allegra crossed the market and headed for the small bottega located a few doors down from the imposing Palazzo Strozzi. The simple sign above the door read: ORAFO. The bottega itself was humble—certainly not the best in town—but it was the closest to her home. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and went inside. A middle-aged goldsmith was in the process of demonstrating the technique for soldering silver when he noticed that none of his apprentices were paying attention to him. Following the curious gazes of the boys, he noticed Allegra.

  He set down his tools and studied her with a quizzical expression. “Are you lost, child?”

  “No sir.” When he continued to stare at her expectantly, she said, “I’m here because I want to be a goldsmith.”