Sabina

by C. De Melo

  Cecilia insisted on going to church daily. Sabina, who only attended mass when required, found her sister’s religious zeal tiresome. Despite this, she accompanied her sister. While Cecilia prayed fervently, Sabina allowed her imagination to wander, conjuring fantastic stories. Oftentimes, she would return from church and immediately scribble down ideas.

  A messenger arrived a few days later with an invitation to a Christmas Feast at the Palazzo Medici. As a courtesy, the invitation was extended to the visiting Rossi family. A seamstress was summoned to create something suitable for Cecilia to wear, and a tailor was sent for Don Antonio.

  On the way home from church one morning, an icy drizzle began to fall, forcing Sabina and Cecilia to hasten their steps. It was one week before Christmas, and it seemed as if the weather was worsening daily.

  As they shuffled along the street, Cecilia announced, “Papa is planning on building an addition to the house in Lucca.”

  Sabina grimaced. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “We need the space.”

  “Perhaps you should wait.”

  Cecilia glanced at Sabina as she avoided a puddle. “Why? We’re only building two more rooms.”

  “I thought that you, Papa, and Paolo would eventually move in with us. In fact, I’ve already discussed the possibility with Tommaso, and he thinks it would be a good idea.”

  Cecilia took hold of her sister’s hand. “I appreciate the offer, but Florence is not for me. I enjoy the peace and quiet of our family villa. Papa feels the same way. Besides, we would only be in the way.”

  “Nonsense! How could anyone ever be in the way in that big palazzo? We could go days without seeing one another. Can you not imagine us calling out to each other in the hallways? Paolo would get lost all the time.”

  Cecilia laughed. “Your tendency to exaggerate has not changed.”

  “If you and Papa truly wish to remain in Lucca, I’m sure Tommaso will pay for the addition on the house,” Sabina said, her tone serious. “Save your money for other things. Remember, if you change your mind, the invitation to live with us is always open.”

  “Perhaps when Paolo is older we’ll accept your gracious offer. I’m sure your husband can introduce my son to the right people so that he may have the opportunity to make something of himself in this world.”

  “You have nothing to worry about as far as Paolo’s future is concerned,” Sabina assured. “I can understand your reluctance to move here. I, too, miss the peacefulness of Lucca at times.”

  They turned down a wider street and walked quietly for a few minutes.

  Cecilia offered contritely, “I never apologized to you for what happened at your wedding. I should not have insulted you in that manner.”

  The rain fell harder and Sabina pulled her sister into a deep doorway. “I’ve already forgiven you. I only hope that you can forgive me, too.”

  They embraced and Sabina noticed that the wetness on her sister’s face was not solely from the rain. A small carriage stopped in front of them. Painted on its door was a gold crest with red balls.

  Giuliano’s handsome face appeared through the window. “Get in!”

  The grateful women scrambled into the carriage.

  “You two look like drowned kittens,” he observed, amused. “Signora Sabina, how good to see you again. And this is?”

  “My older sister, Cecilia.” Turning to her sister, she added, “This is Signore Giuliano de’ Medici.”

  Cecilia’s eyes widened in surprise. “A pleasure, sir.”

  Giuliano settled back into the cushioned seat. “Good thing I came this way or you would surely catch your death of cold. Why did you not take Tommaso’s carriage today?”

  “One of the wheels is being fixed,” Sabina replied.

  “I see. I assume both of you will be attending our Christmas feast.” Sabina nodded and his face broke into a grin. “I’m glad to hear it. My sister-in-law, Clarice, loves Christmas, whereas my brother and I prefer the celebration of Easter.”

  “I prefer Easter to Christmas as well,” Sabina said. “There’s something so pure about the springtime, as if the earth is experiencing rebirth.”

  Cecilia added, “It’s the perfect season to celebrate our Lord’s resurrection.”

  “Exactly,” Giuliano agreed. “In the springtime, everything is being born anew; the buds on the trees, the first bloom of the flowers. It’s a most joyous time.” A shadow crossed his face. “If only our sins could be wiped clean so we could start anew. That would be a true rebirth, would it not?”

  Neither woman knew how to respond.

  Sensing that he had made them uncomfortable, he said to Sabina, “Let us talk of pleasant things. Lorenzo tells me you’re a lover of books.”

  “I am.”

  “Who is your favorite author?”

  “A difficult question, but I would have to say Dante Alighieri. He blends drama with comedy, and his moral lessons are subtle yet indelible.”

  “His cantos are brimming with imagination and filled with poetic justice. I still prefer Boccaccio, however.” His eyes glittered mischievously. “The Decameron is brilliant, full of the bawdy humor we vulgar Tuscans cannot seem to get enough of.”

  Sabina laughed. “Boccaccio’s work is truly remarkable.”

  “What about you?” he asked of Cecilia.

  Unlike Sabina, Cecilia did not have an appreciation for literature. Between caring for a small son and an ailing father, she had little time to read anything except the Bible. “Aside from the required readings selected by my childhood tutor, I’m afraid I’m dull-witted when it comes to discussions of literature.”

  “Nonsense,” Sabina chided. “You are quite clever.”

  Cecilia offered Giuliano a deprecating smile. “My sister is being kind.”

  Giuliano smoothly rerouted the topic. “Tommaso has quite a collection of books. After all, he is close friends with Messer Bisticci.”

  Vespasiano da Bisticci owned the most prosperous cartolaio in the city. In addition to servicing the Florentine nobility, the famous book merchant enjoyed an international clientele that included Europe’s royalty.

  He continued, “Have you met him?”

  Sabina preened. “We had the pleasure of his company for dinner last month. He came bearing a gift—Le Livre de la Cité des Dames. I already owned a copy, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.”

  “You admire Christine di Pisan, then?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Cecilia was relieved when the carriage stopped in front of the Palazzo Caravelli.

  “Thank you, Signore Giuliano,” Sabina said. “Will you not come inside? You could enjoy some hot mulled wine with us.”

  “That’s most kind, but I must decline. I’ll see you soon. Good day.”

  Sabina and Cecilia rushed inside and went upstairs. Two servants helped them out of their wet garments and into clothes that were warm and dry.

  As they sat before the fire sipping hot mulled wine, Sabina studied Cecilia. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short, sister,” she advised. “It’s not fitting to call yourself ‘dull-witted’ to a member of the Medici family.”

  Cecilia snorted. “Why should I care what he thinks?”

  “He’s one of the most important men in Florence.”

  “My life is very different from yours, Sabina. I have no time for such idle activities as keeping up with the latest literary trends or trying to put on airs to impress others.”

  “You chose your life,” Sabina pointed out gently. “We were both afforded the same education and noble name. Papa tried to persuade you to marry that well-to-do merchant from Arezzo, but you refused.”

  “I had no desire to live in Arezzo,” Cecilia retorted, annoyed.

  “Had you accepted his proposal, you would have had an easy life with servants, and plenty of time for all the idle activities in the world.”

  Cecilia looked at her sister for a long t
ime. “I made my choice and you made yours, and now we each must live with the consequences.”

  “We all reap what we sow,” Sabina agreed quietly.

  “Amen to that.”

  They silently watched the flames in the hearth until Paolo came in crying because Mendi had bitten him.

  “Why Tommaso lets you keep that malignant creature is a mystery to me,” Cecilia mumbled under her breath as she examined the peck mark on her son’s hand.

  “Mendi is not prone to biting unless he’s provoked,” Sabina said. “Paolo, did you tease him?”

  “I held the bread away from him,” the little boy admitted.

  “Don’t tease him and he won’t bite,” Sabina admonished. “Go on and play with the wooden sword your uncle gave you.”

  Paolo scampered away, leaving them alone again. Sabina refilled her sister’s cup.

  After drinking deeply, Cecilia said, “Marco is getting married.”

  Sabina was surprised to hear her old lover’s name. “To whom?”

  “A girl named Lisa from a nearby village. I hear she comes from a good family.” Cecilia stole a sidelong glance to gauge her sister’s reaction.

  “Good as in virtuous or good as in wealthy?”

  Cecilia cocked an eyebrow. “Is that jealousy or bitterness in your voice?”

  “Neither. I’m merely curious.”

  “I believe her father is involved in trade and owns a small shop.”

  “I wish them much happiness,” Sabina said coolly, betraying nothing.

  Feeling daring, Cecilia inquired, “Don’t you miss him?”

  “I’ve found contentment in my marriage.”

  “What if Marco had followed you here to Florence?”

  “And?”

  “Would you have entertained the thought of making him your lover?”

  Sabina almost choked on her wine. “No!”

  “Are you being truthful?”

  “I made a promise to God to be faithful to my husband, and I intend to keep it. Tommaso is a good man. Marriage has changed me, Cecilia. I’m no longer the wild child that father used to scold.”

  “No more swimming naked on hot days?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “No more potions?”

  “I haven’t concocted a single love potion here, nor would I dare to do so.”

  “I knew about you and Marco all along, you know.”

  Stunned, Sabina tried to feign ignorance. “What do you mean?”

  “Those long walks alone, or when Papa and I were out of the house…”

  Cecilia rarely drank wine because it went straight to her head and loosened her lips. Now was one of those times.

  “You speak nonsense when you drink wine,” Sabina teased, pretending to take the cup away from her sister.

  Cecilia gave her sister a tight, humorless smile. “I saw the pair of you together with my own eyes on two different occasions.”

  “It must have been your imagination.”

  “I have a son, remember? I know what happens between a man and a woman. I know for a fact that you weren’t a virgin on your wedding day.”

  Cecilia moved to take another sip of wine, but Sabina grabbed the cup away. “Does Papa know?”

  “I would never break his heart like that.”

  Sabina heaved a sigh of relief. “I ended it with Marco the day I received the pearls from Tommaso, but he insisted on asking for my hand in marriage anyway. He never touched me again after that day, I swear. Thank you for not telling Papa. Oh, Cecilia, I feel such shame right now.”

  “You have changed,” Cecilia observed while reaching for her sister’s hand. “The old Sabina would not have been ashamed. Let’s put the past where it belongs—in the past.”

  Later that day, Don Antonio took Sabina aside privately. “You’ve only been married for a short period and already I see a big transformation in you.”

  Cecilia said the same thing earlier. Had she actually changed so much?

  He continued, “I’m impressed by the smooth running of your household, and how highly Tommaso speaks of you. Apparently, you take your role as wife very seriously.”

  “Thank you for the compliment, Papa.”

  “It’s no mere compliment, Sabina. The manner in which the Florentines have received me indicates how well you have played your part in society.”

  “They behave graciously toward you because you are in the company of an important man,” she pointed out.

  “True,” he conceded. “But it’s also because of your chaste behavior, your charitable works, and your husband’s favorable opinion of you. You have elevated the Rossi name to its former greatness.”

  Up until now, her father had either mocked or criticized her unruly behavior. For the first time in her life, he offered sincere praise.

  And it felt good.

  The heavy rain continued, the sound of it echoing throughout the large rooms. Fires burned in the hearths, but it was still cold and uncomfortably damp. Sabina touched her father’s hand and noticed it was icy.

  “Come upstairs, Papa.” She urged. “It’s cold here.”

  Don Antonio allowed his daughter to lead him to her private quarters. She stoked the fire and, because the room was small, the heat of the flames spread quickly. He sat down, extending his hands toward the warmth.

  “Ah, that’s better,” the old man said.

  “Cecilia tells me that you wish to build an addition to the house.”

  “We need the space. Paolo is growing up fast.”

  “I will pay for it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s enough that your husband is a generous host and has provided us with new clothing for Christmas.”

  “Tommaso is a wealthy man. An addition to a small house is of little cost for him. Do not argue with me, please. Do it for Paolo’s sake.”

  Don Antonio said nothing and Sabina took it as silent acquiescence.

  The rain persisted for the next few days. On the morning of the Medici Christmas party, the weather was cold, but at least it was dry.

  Don Antonio had attended such grand social events before his father gambled away his inheritance; therefore, he felt somewhat comfortable among the nobility. Cecilia, on the other hand, felt apprehensive. Once inside the Palazzo Medici, Tommaso and Don Antonio spotted a group of familiar male faces and excused themselves from the women.

  “Do you think Paolo is all right?” Cecilia asked for the second time since they left the Palazzo Caravelli half hour ago.

  “He’s fine,” Sabina assured. “Our servants are more than capable of feeding him and putting him to bed. I also instructed Teresa to read him a bedtime story. Now stop worrying and enjoy yourself. It’s not every day you get to attend such a splendid party.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  They joined a group of ladies who rambled about pointless topics. Cecilia contributed little to the conversation. She was visibly relieved when they were finally seated and the meal was served.

  Leaning over to whisper into Sabina’s ear, she asked, “How can you stand it here?”

  Sabina swallowed a bite of braised rabbit. “In what sense?”

  “These people with their ridiculous airs, speaking such nonsense,” Cecilia continued in a low tone. “How can you stomach them?”

  “It’s a very different world from the one in which we were raised, but there is much beauty and culture here. I’ve learned to appreciate the good and ignore the bad. For example, I’ve met writers, artists, and musicians with incredible talent. Do you see that young man over there?” Sabina asked, discreetly pointing to a good-looking man seated not far from them.

  Cecilia glanced at him. “Yes.”

  “He’s one of Lorenzo’s favorite artists. His paintings are highly refined—unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I honestly believe the artwork being created in this city must be divinely inspired because it has the power to touch your soul.”

  “What is the artist’s name?”

  �
��Alessandro Botticelli.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “I’m sure you will eventually.”

  Cecilia shrugged. “These artists are all the same to me.”

  Sabina let the matter drop.

  After the delicious meal, they enjoyed the melodies of minstrels and musicians. The guests, feeling full and sated, were either milling around to induce digestion or dancing.

  Angelina Bardi approached the Rossi sisters with a smile on her face. “Signora Sabina! I’ve been wanting to speak with you all night,” she said, eyeing Cecilia curiously from head to toe.

  “Greetings Signorina Angelina,” Sabina said. “Please allow me to introduce you to my sister, Signora Cecilia.”

  The two women exchanged polite greetings.

  Angelina inquired, “Where are you from, originally?”

  “Lucca.”

  “Are you enjoying Florence? It’s vastly different from Lucca, which can be so very provincial.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you live inside the city center of Lucca?”

  “No, we live in the countryside,” Cecilia replied, growing weary of the interrogation.

  “How terribly dull.” Taking hold of Sabina’s wrist, Angelina said, “Come and see the latest painting Lorenzo has acquired.”

  She led both women up a flight of stairs to an empty corridor where several paintings hung on the walls. They came to a stop before a large depiction of Heaven and Hell with Jesus in the center of the composition. The colors were luminous, and the figures were rendered in various active poses.

  “Impressive, is it not?” When Sabina nodded, Angelina added, “He asked my opinion before making the purchase.”

  Sabina wondered what sort of relationship she and Lorenzo shared.

  Turning to Cecilia, Angelina inquired, “Do you like it?”

  Staring at the scene, Cecilia replied, “I find it rather frightening.”

  “Nonsense! Why, look here,” Angelina exclaimed, pointing to one of the damned members of humanity struggling to reach the Righteous gathered at the right hand of Jesus. “This poor creature is trying to sneak his way into the Kingdom of God, but do you see what the angel is doing?”