‘For Cosimo to have made that decision at all, knowing how close she and Giovanni had been for years, was misguided. But to announce it in public, without warning the girl in advance, was simply unforgivable.’ Maddalena shook her head, still appalled at the memory.
Then she lifted her head and her expression had changed. ‘But then a remarkable thing happened. She went off for a week, either to Careggi, or to Cafaggiolo; I cannot now remember which, but she went with Giovanni and her eldest sister Dianora, presumably as a chaperone, and with only a handful of servants to accompany them on the journey.
‘I suspect Cosimo had asked Giovanni to try to talk her round. Anyway, a week later, she came back, and it was as if all the difficulties had been put on one side. She was light, charming and as attentive as ever she had been; and even though Piero had the courtship style of a farm boar, she fawned in his presence like a dutiful wife-to-be.
‘Even though the couple now seemed to have accepted the reality, I was angry with Cosimo for what I thought was a stupid and unkind act and on more than one occasion, I told him so. As always, he had a logical reason for doing what he had done. For some time it had been understood that Piero was to marry Gualdrada di Francesco Guidi, the daughter of the Count of Poppi. But now, it seemed, he had changed his mind and chosen Lucrezia instead. I told him that it was a bad decision, badly made and even more badly announced, and finally he gave me his explanation.
‘He told me he knew Piero was going to find the political challenge ahead of him very difficult, but that he, Cosimo, could not afford to see him fail. He said that Gualdrada was much too like his own wife to be of much support to Piero and instead what he needed was a wife who (quietly and discreetly) could offset all his weaknesses. And that, he said, was why he had chosen Lucrezia. And regretfully, I had to accept the logic of what he told me. He didn’t tell me how the Count of Poppi had taken the news and I didn’t dare ask him. No doubt there had been some sort of settlement and equally certainly, it had involved the passing of money or favours.
‘Nevertheless, I told him that in my opinion, making the announcement in public without previously talking to Lucrezia in private had been an act of extreme unkindness.’
‘What was his response?’ The abbess’ hands were tightly wrung together.
‘To my surprise, he agreed with me, and he apologised. And then, to my amazement, he told me he had had no choice. “Had I told her in advance,” he said, “Lucrezia would probably have talked me out of it!”’
‘So knowing it was an act of extreme unkindness, and that the girl would never voluntarily agree to it, he did it anyway?’ The abbess’ expression had changed. Suddenly, it was distant, and cold and analytical.
Something about that stare made Maddalena pause, and the thought that came to her was an uncomfortable one. This was not the only occasion when Cosimo, knowing that the consequences of his actions would hurt someone he loved, had decided to continue in any event. My own incarceration here, within these walls, could be similarly described. Indeed, should be. And the abbess, by her expression, has a similar example in her mind.
She realised she was biting her lip, looked at the abbess and knew immediately that she had read the thought; perhaps having already seen the comparison herself. There was a brief exchange of glances; in many respects more eloquent than words, and Maddalena decided to continue. This was not a diversion she wanted to follow today.
‘In any event, they married, as I have told you, and then settled down to family life; Piero mainly absent, doing his father’s bidding, trying to build a reputation as anything but a stumbling fool amongst the priors of the Signoria, whilst Lucrezia immersed herself in the family.
‘Predictably, and with her innate presumption, Contessina tried to dominate her and took pleasure in giving her “helpful” advice.’
She smiled, knowing she had an ally in what she is about to say. ‘But to little effect. It was amusing to see the ease with which Lucrezia let her mother-in-law’s suggestions slide down her back without ever seeming to disagree or give offence.’
The abbess nodded vehemently and smiled back. She had met neither Lucrezia nor Contessina, but as Maddalena had already recognised, that did not prevent her from taking sides in any described confrontation between them. But again, she decided not to become diverted.
‘It was not long before Giovanni was back with us, having “served his time” as he called it, in the Bank’s ‘Roman Court’ branches in Ferrara and Florence. Now more and more of his business seemed to be conducted from home, and as a result, we saw more and more of him.
‘For some reason, he decided that, in matters of the Church, I was someone he could learn from, and day after day he would slide up to me and ask how he should respond to this bishop or that cardinal. And it was true; I had known many of them for years, often more intimately than I would have preferred, although always well short of their undoubted intentions at the time. I usually knew of a list of indiscretions of which each of them could be reminded if a little pressure was required and between us, we established Giovanni’s position as a man to be watched and respected, if not a little feared.
‘Increasingly, as Giovanni took on more responsibilities in the bank, the studiolo became a private office where we would meet, sit, discuss the business of the day, and if necessary, seek Cosimo’s decision. And as we talked and, with Giovanni in our midst, invariably laughed, I began to notice how close Giovanni and Lucrezia still were.
‘He had a habit when he passed her chair, of putting his hand on her shoulder, and as he walked on, of sliding his fingers across the back of her neck. And she, in turn, would shiver as his fingertips caressed her and then lean towards him and bump her shoulder against his thigh as he passed. I never saw them do any of that in public places, where they, like the rest of us, were always being closely observed, but in the privacy of the studiolo it was hard to ignore.
‘Of course Contessina was never allowed into that part of the house and Piero seemed to have developed his own ways of working with his political friends that had no bearing on bank business, and therefore, gave him no reason to visit the studiolo either.
‘And then, one day, Cosimo set off for Lucca and took Piero with him. I was in the studiolo with Giovanni Benci, going through the ledger pages of the Libro Segreto in preparation for making a catasto wealth tax return (or to be more precise, to make sure we didn’t declare too much wealth), and I thought I heard Giovanni’s laugh.
‘“Was that Giovanni?” I asked and Benci just jerked his head towards the salon. “They’re in there,” he said.
‘“Who? I replied, perhaps somewhat naïvely, and Benci, with a grimace, answered, “the terrible twins, who else?”
‘“What are they doing in the salon?” I asked. Yes, I know it sounds stupid now, but to me that was a private room only used by Cosimo and me, and I could not believe that . . .’
‘But were they?’ Madonna Arcangelica had that twinkle back in her eye, but still she couldn’t make herself use the words.
Maddalena nodded. ‘Giovanni Benci said, “They go in there every time; every time Cosimo is away.”
‘At first I could not believe it, but then it occurred to me that on most of the occasions when Cosimo was travelling, he would take me with him, to run private errands and to attend to matters too personal to discuss with his hosts; and for that reason, I had not seen what happened in his absence. Initially I took it as a bit of an affront, but then I thought back to our early days together and I wished them good luck.’
The abbess sat opposite Maddalena and nodded quietly to herself. Maddalena could see there was a tension in her. A question unanswered. The question. The one question that had lain dormant since their first meeting but which both of them had carefully avoided. Until this moment.
‘I have to ask you, Suora Maddalena.’ As Maddalena lifted her head, the abbess opened her hands in self-defence. ‘You may be the only opportunity I will ever have to answer this question.
’
Maddalena sensed the reversal of roles and knew it was her turn to sit back and be helpful. ‘Please do not be concerned. Ask your question and I shall endeavour to answer it with as much truth as I can.’
Madonna Arcangelica screwed up her courage. When she spoke, her voice was unusually tense; high-pitched and nervous. ‘What is it like? To lie with a man? I mean . . . the act. The full act? To be . . .’ she swallowed hard before forcing herself to use the words, ‘. . . penetrated by him?’
***
For weeks Maddalena had known that one day this question would be asked, and many times she had rehearsed what she would say. But now that the moment had come, all of her prepared answers flew out of the window.
‘I can only speak of one man, although I have heard much of the experience of others. I was a virgin when Cosimo bought me and although my parents, being committed to my full education, had explained the matter to me, as you might say medically, I was unprepared for the reality.
‘Was it? Is it? Painful?’
‘In my experience, no. Hardly at all. And then only at the very beginning of the very first time. I believe it depends on you. If you wish to lie with the man; to have him love you in every sense, then no, it need not be painful and it will not be. But conversely, I have spoken to women who were taken by force; who were raped, and they speak of indescribable pain.’
‘He did not . . . ? Even though he had bought you as a personal slave? As his, to use or abuse as he wished?’
‘No. Never. Even on that first night, when he took me back to the palazzo in Venice and led me to his bedroom. He asked me then if I was frightened and listening to the tone of his voice and seeing the expression of care and understanding on his face, I answered truthfully “no”. And then, he did something that surprised me. I thought he would undress me, as the men in the slave market had done, while they remained clothed and invulnerable. But instead, he suggested that we take it in turns and that he should lead, not me.’
‘He undressed in front of you? Brazenly, in the light?’
‘Of course. He knew it was important that I saw him and that I was not taken passively, blindly, in the dark. He said we must share the experience and that sharing meant equality.’
‘What does it look like?’ The abbess’ eyes were bright with attention.
Feeling suddenly mischievous, or perhaps to hide her own embarrassment, Maddalena frowned, feigning ignorance and the abbess was forced to try again. ‘You know. A naked man unclothed and uncovered? What does it look like?’
Maddalena paused. She knew exactly what the question implied, but still could not bring herself to give a straight answer. ‘It’s hardly a thing of beauty, although some, I am sure, must be. My own son, as I have seen from Donatello’s drawings, is a fine figure of a man and beautifully proportioned. But sadly, the man I know does not have the body of an athlete.’
The abbess sat, still but not at rest, and Maddalena knew she was being unfair. It was time to answer a civil, if embarrassed question with a civil answer, but in view of the abbess’ obvious sensitivities, perhaps slowly and gently.
‘When the man comes to you, you feel his closeness and his roughness. A man’s body does not have the contours of a woman’s, nor the texture. It is boar against sow.’
The abbess nodded. ‘More angular? More firm?’
‘Yes and more hairy, in places where we are not.’
Madonna Arcangelica had her hand to her face and she took a small intake of breath. But no question emerged.
But none was needed. Maddalena knew the question and this time, she answered it.
‘He touches you gently, his fingers soft but insistent, and you are on fire; at the same time, wishing he would stop, yet praying he will continue. And when, finally, he enters you, it is as if the two of you are one, and you move together as one person; two bodies fused and entwined.’
The abbess had her eyes shut. ‘So it must have been for the Blessed Virgin. The rapture of the moment.’
‘The rapture follows, rising within you like a great fire, until you almost pass out with the release of it.’
Maddalena watched as the abbess sat high in the chair, holding her breath, eyes closed, hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly as she pointed her chin skywards. Then she gave a great triumphant sigh. ‘Oh yes. Yes. The rapture and the release. Of course, it has to be so.’
For a moment she seemed lost in herself and Maddalena paused, giving her time. Then, almost reluctantly, Madonna Arcangelica took a long slow inward breath, her eyes still shut, as she nodded to herself in confirmation.
For a moment her eyes opened and she looked at Maddalena as if surprised at her presence. ‘And after that?’
Maddalena spoke slowly. ‘After that comes the great relaxation, as if your whole body has lifted up and is now floating down again. And on the first occasion, and only on the first occasion, comes something else; the knowledge; the understanding that the great secret is out, and that you too, now share in it.’
She smiled at the abbess, ‘It is in that moment that the maid becomes a woman.’
The abbess subsided, nodding, her eyes softly shut once again, seemingly exhausted but deeply content. From the expression on her face, Maddalena thought she could see the expectation of a fresh perception of the world, of being able to stand before the paintings in the chapel and the fresci in the cloister, and of having a new depth of understanding. She sat like that for five minutes and Maddalena, her day’s work done, sat opposite her and observed.
And then the abbess opened her eyes again and Maddalena could see that the impish expression had returned.
‘You will no doubt think less of me, but I must ask you one more question.’
Maddalena waited; certain she knew what the question was going to be.
‘The thing a man has . . . the . . . implement of penetration . . . I have never seen one, not even in a painting. It is always . . . covered over. What is it really like?’
Perhaps it was the admission of naughtiness on the abbess’ face that made Maddalena decide to tease her at this moment. Perhaps it was the returning recognition that it is always beneficial to leave a little mystery behind; for another day. She tried to look serious, although inside, knowing what she planned to say, she was smiling.
‘It is something like a mushroom.’
The abbess shook her head. Her hands went to her mouth and then down again, now indicating a wide dome. ‘But . . . But it can’t be. An object that shape could not possibly . . .’
Maddalena shook her head, the effect she sought more than satisfied.
‘No. Not a field mushroom. More like a porcino.’
Madonna Arcangelica put one hand back to her mouth and there was a sharp intake of breath. ‘But they’re enormous!’
Maddalena smiled, knowing that she had, after all, managed to keep something back.
‘Yes they are.’
‘Sometimes!’
Chapter 20
Coming to Terms with Life
1st May 1458
It had been an interesting couple of weeks. Two weeks in which Maddalena had found herself observing the abbess and seeing in her a new woman; a woman from whom there were now no secrets. Madonna Arcangelica had chaired the Chapter Meeting with a new authority, as if overnight, she had grown six inches taller. Her decisions now seemed to come to her more quickly and she issued them with instinctive decisiveness.
The effect had been immediate. The cadre of discrete had stopped being obstructive and all five of the old nuns were now fully behind their confident leader. The Chapter Meeting itself had been only half the length of previous meetings and yet it had made considerably more decisions.
On a number of occasions during the week, Maddalena had caught the abbess’ eye and each time she had felt a silent transference of thought, as if to say ‘now I know, and I know you know I know. It is our secret, and it will remain thus’.
Now, as the abbess took her customary place i
n the tower room, Maddalena wondered where their conversations would go from here, for in a sense, at least one of their destinations had been reached. Yet to her surprise, it was Madonna Arcangelica who moved them forward.
‘I am sure you have noticed the difference in atmosphere here this last week, and I should, of course, thank you for your contribution. But as to the others, you may not be aware of their own interpretation of events.’
Not sure what she meant, Maddalena raised an eyebrow and the abbess continued.
‘They have, it seems, convinced themselves that I have had a letter from the patriarch’s clerk, and that its essence is to tell us that we have passed the inspection, that all is well and that there need be no amendments to our interpretations of The Rule.’
She shook her head, amused. ‘Is it not enlightening how easily people will interpret events in the light of their own preoccupations?’
Maddalena smiled, intrigued. ‘Indeed. How did this perception come about?’
Madonna Arcangelica leant forward conspiratorially and dropped her voice. ‘A few days ago, the gatekeeper received a letter addressed to me. As always, I examined it carefully before opening it; I was convinced that she had eased the seal in an attempt to read its contents. In reality, it was a letter from the bishop, informing me that my aunt had died and that prayers were to be said for her in the local chantry. But I am sure the gatekeeper must have seen the signature and spoken to her cronies; and between them, surmised the rest.’
Maddalena smiled again, and found herself leaning forward, towards the abbess. ‘I sometimes think the world gives us the authority we presume to take unto ourselves. They had reason to draw such a conclusion, didn’t they? Your manner this week has, if I may say so, been much more assured.’
‘Tranquil.’ The abbess sat back in her chair, smiling benignly. ‘That was how I felt and it is how I still feel. As if something long-lost has finally been found.’ As she leant back, she began to laugh. ‘I hope to goodness that I do not now receive a critical letter from the patriarch. I’m not sure how I would respond.’
The House of Medici Page 22