by C. De Melo
“That depends. What’s the problem?”
Anne described her symptoms, and Ursula calmly collected various herbs and powders. She placed the ingredients in a pouch, knotted the top, and tossed it on the table. “Mix that with wine or water and drink it tonight before you go to bed.”
Anne took the pouch. “All of it?”
“Yes. You may feel some pain, but the baby will come out in the morning. Burn the remains in the fire so nobody finds out.”
“Baby?”
“You’re pregnant. His Excellency sent you here to rid yourself of the burden.” When Anne continued to stare at Ursula in horror, she added, “You cannot bear the child of a bishop, can you now? Think of the consequences!”
“I’m going to have a baby?” Anne asked, shocked.
“You certainly will if you don’t take these herbs and follow my instructions.”
“They’ll kick me out of the convent…”
“You’re a nun?” Ursula chuckled, but it sounded like a witch’s cackle to Anne’s ears. “Oh, this is a first! Bishop Alfani usually toys with simple village maids or whores. He’s taking risks these days.”
“Village maids? Whores?” Anne repeated, her eyes wet with tears.
“What? Did you think you were his one and only true love?” Ursula demanded cruelly.
Anne dropped the pouch on the floor and ran back to the convent. Bishop Alfani wanted her to abort their child! She was not about to add murder to her long list of immoral sins. After procuring a quill and a piece of parchment, she wrote a letter to her mother stating that she was going home.
Chapter 23
The moment Sabina and Massimo came out into the courtyard to greet Anne, she burst into tears and confessed the sordid affair with Bishop Alfani. Sabina’s face paled in shock, but she kept her wits and tongue in check.
“There’s more to the story,” Anne sobbed. “I’m pregnant…I’m bound straight for Hell.”
Massimo met Sabina’s eyes and discreetly left the courtyard to allow them some privacy. Sabina’s mind raced frantically as she absorbed the disturbing news. Marco had fathered her future grandchild! The entire situation was immoral and disgusting. Anne would be devastated if she knew Marco had bedded her mother in the past.
Anne could never know the truth.
“God should strike me down,” Anne muttered.
Sabina winced. “Don’t say that. Everyone makes mistakes in life.”
“I’m a nun!” Anne stepped back and covered her face with her hands.
“You have served the Lord faithfully since childhood and spent twenty-one years in a convent. There are worse sins in life than bearing a child out of wedlock—believe me.”
“There were others,” Anne said, sniffing and wiping her tears. “The old crone who gave me the herbs told me so.”
Sabina’s brow creased in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Bishop Alfani has sent other women to rid themselves of babies.” This brought a fresh onslaught of tears. “I was not his only lover.”
Damn you, Marco! “Oh, Anne…”
Sabina wanted to take her daughter’s pain into her own heart, but all she could do was offer comfort. For the next several months, Sabina did everything to keep the outside world at bay so her daughter could feel at ease. Anne’s pregnancy was difficult right from the very beginning. She was sick until her eighth month, then bedridden until the end of her ninth month. Massimo was always close and ever solicitous toward Anne, often inquiring if she needed anything from the market. Sabina loved him all the more for stepping into the role of a caring stepfather.
Shortly before Anne was due to give birth, Sabina wrote Cecilia a letter. Her sister had sent many letters inquiring after Anne and demanding to know why her niece had fled the convent so abruptly. Sabina finally penned the truth, begging Cecilia to keep the information confidential. Cecilia’s response was swift, expressing regret for Anne’s “unfortunate situation” while assuring the utmost secrecy.
After a long and painful labor, Anne delivered a healthy baby girl. Sabina saw traces of Marco in the child but refrained from commenting on them. “She is the spitting image of you. A perfect little girl.”
“What should I name her?”
Sabina found it odd that Anne had not thought of any names. “Well, I’ve always been fond of the name Stefania.”
“Stefania. So be it.”
To Sabina and Massimo’s immense relief, Anne was delighted with her new daughter, but the joys of motherhood were short-lived. The guilt of sin weighed too heavily on Anne’s conscience, and she began to act strangely, remaining listless for hours or staring out the window.
A letter arrived a few weeks later addressed to Anne bearing the official seal of the Vatican. Rather than deliver the correspondence to its intended recipient, Sabina hid the letter in the folds of her gown and read it within the privacy of her bedchamber.
Dearest Anne,
I hope this letter finds you and the babe in good health. After not seeing you at mass and not receiving word from you, I paid your aunt a visit at the convent. Cecilia informed me that you had retired to your mother’s home in Florence for your pregnancy. I must admit that I was shocked to discover this news. You should have sent word to me. I’m willing to provide for you and our child, and hope you will consider returning to Lucca where I will set you up in a comfortable household.
M.
Sabina threw the letter into the flames and instructed a servant to procure a horse for her at once. As she prepared to depart for Lucca, Massimo appeared in the doorway.
“You cannot ride alone,” he protested. “It’s too dangerous. I will accompany you.”
“My men can accompany me.”
“That is well and good, but as your husband, I’m also responsible for your safety.”
“I have words for my sister and Bishop Alfani, and I wish to deliver them alone.”
“Very well,” he acquiesced. “We can spend the night at an inn. I shall wait there while you conduct your business.”
Sabina told her daughter that she and Massimo were visiting Caterina in the Mugello for a couple of days. She hated lying, but she had no choice. They arrived in Lucca late at night and, after a restless night of sleep, Sabina awoke early and set out shortly after the sun had risen.
Exhausted and angry, she barely glanced at the beautiful façade of San Michele as she stormed through the door. The church was empty except for a few people who were praying inside a chapel. She strode down the nave and went into the sacristy.
“Marco!” she called out. “Where are you?”
When no one replied, she went down a corridor and crossed a small courtyard that led to an unlocked door. Marco was seated by the fire reading a book. Balling her hands into fists, she ran into the room and began hitting him with as much force as she could muster.
“You bastard!” she cried.
He gripped her wrists and stood. “Calm yourself, please!” Sabina was as lovely as he remembered, and a wave of desire washed over him.
One of her hands escaped from his grip and she slapped him hard across the face. “You knew she was my daughter! How dare you lay your filthy hands on her?!”
“I suppose I deserve that,” he admitted.
She spit at him. “You deserve that and much more!”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. “Stop it!”
“Have you no shame? My God, Marco—you and I were lovers once and you take my daughter into your bed as well?”
“She sought me out.”
“You are the older, more experienced one who should have known better. You are a bishop!”
“Anne is no child.”
“She may as well be. She’s an innocent soul who has never cared for the things of this world. Anne was meant for a cloistered life of quiet contemplation and devotion to God, and now she’s lost and miserable.”
She began to beat Marco once more with her fists. He grabbed her wrists
again. “Please stop! I want to see my child, Sabina.”
“The one you wanted Anne to kill?”
He looked away. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Apparently, there were others who were sent to this vile woman named Ursula.”
“I’m not the first clergy member to father a child and I won’t be the last,” he pointed out in his own defense. “Even popes have bastards.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“I’m truly sorry,” he offered contritely.
“Your irresponsible behavior ruined my daughter’s life.”
“I never meant for this to happen.” He paused, averting his gaze. “Did she have a boy or a girl?”
“A lovely girl whom you will never see.”
“What’s her name?” he inquired tentatively. When she remained silent, he added, “I want Anne to return to Lucca where I can provide for them.”
“So you can set her up as your mistress? Your whore?”
“Sabina, that’s not—”
“Leave Anne alone! Don’t send anymore letters—they’ll only be tossed in the fire, unread. Stay away from me and my family!”
“But—”
“I’m serious, Marco. I will kill you if you come near my daughter or my grandchild. You’ve done enough damage already.”
“I’m not the monster you think I am.”
“I haven’t forgotten what you did to me in the chapel,” she reminded him through clenched teeth before storming out of the church.
Sabina went straight to the convent and knocked on the door of her sister’s cell.
Cecilia opened the door. “Sabina! What are you doing here?”
“Why did you tell Marco?”
Cecilia flushed to the roots of her hair. “What choice did I have? He came here demanding the whereabouts of Anne and asking questions. He’s a bishop—I couldn’t lie to him. Besides, he has a right to know.”
Sabina’s eyes flashed in anger. “He has NO right whatsoever! Do you hear me? He wanted Anne to rid herself of the child—she is under no obligation to him.”
“If what you say is true, then you’re right,” Cecilia conceded. “Does Anne know that you and Marco…?”
“No, and neither does Massimo. No one knows about my past with Marco and it must remain that way.”
“Of course. Forgive me, sister,” Cecilia offered. “I meant no harm. Marco would have found out sooner or later.”
Sabina ignored the apology. “I cannot dally. Massimo is waiting for me and we must return to Florence at once.”
“How is Anne?” Cecilia asked.
“Miserable and overwrought with guilt. I’m worried about her.”
“I’ll visit Florence soon, I promise.” Cecilia placed a hand on Sabina’s arm. “I’m sorry.”
Sabina covered her sister’s hand with her own and sighed. “Come spend Christmas with us. Anne would appreciate the visit and any words of encouragement you have to offer.”
“I will. God be with you, Sabina.”
***
“Mother!”
Sabina dropped the book she was reading and ran upstairs at the sound of her Anne’s scream. She found Anne crying hysterically, cradling her blue-faced infant daughter.
“She’s choking!”
Sabina took hold of her grandchild and stuck her finger in the baby’s mouth before turning her on her stomach and gently patting her back. Stefania began to cough and took a deep, shaky breath. Color began flowing back into her plump cheeks as she let out a loud wail.
“There, there, my precious girl.”
Visibly shaken, Anne went to stand by the window as Sabina rocked Stefania to sleep, then put her in the cradle.
“I’m a terrible mother,” Anne lamented. “Had you not been here, Stefania would have died.”
“Nonsense,” Sabina said, sounding more convincing than she felt. “Your instinct would have guided you.”
“It didn’t…I have no maternal instinct.”
Sabina often thought the same thing but would never dare say so aloud. Anne had already suffered too much in life. Both women turned to look at the sleeping baby.
“Sometimes I wonder how my gross sins could have produced something so beautiful,” Anne commented softly.
“I wish you would stop talking like that. You’ve repented and prayed over and over again. You seem to forget that God possesses infinite capacity for forgiveness.”
Sabina was truly worried about Anne’s mental state, which was obviously fragile and seemed to be deteriorating on a daily basis.
“I want to go back to the convent,” Anne admitted.
“Anne…”
“I can never go back, I know,” Anne said, tossing an accusatory glance at Stefania.
“Don’t resent the child,” Sabina gently admonished. “Stefania did not ask to enter this world. It’s not her fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Anne agreed. “Why should I be punished for my sins while Marco remains unburdened? His life hasn’t changed at all.”
Sabina took note that Anne no longer referred to Marco as Bishop Alfani. Her daughter had learned a hard lesson in life: the world belonged to men, not women. There was a separate set of rules for them and a different price to pay for the exact same sins.
“It is indeed a man’s world,” Sabina said. “It has always been and perhaps will always be.”
Anne looked at her mother with eyes filled with pain. “Sometimes I just want to die, Mother,” she whispered.
“We love you so much and you have a wonderful daughter to raise. Massimo and I are here to help you in any way we can.”
Anne lowered her head and cried. Sabina knew her daughter was suffering, but she had no idea what to do about it. The consoling words she and Massimo offered seemed to fall on deaf ears. Cecilia would surely have better success with Anne during her upcoming visit.
***
Anne ran into her aunt’s arms the moment Cecilia arrived at the house. It was a few days before Christmas and the weather was dreary.
“You look well,” Cecilia lied, smiling into her niece’s face.
“I’ve missed you, Aunt. How are the sisters?”
“Everyone is fine and they send warm greetings.”
Anne’s smile vanished and her brow creased with worry. “They still believe that I’m…”
“Battling a strange illness,” Cecilia assured, finishing her niece’s sentence. “No one knows the truth, so do not fret.” She paused before changing the subject, “I’m anxious to meet my grandniece.”
Sabina came out with hands extended toward her sister. “Cecilia. You must be tired and hungry.”
“I am, but first take me to Stefania.”
The three women made their way to Anne’s room where a wet nurse was feeding the child.
“She’s perfect,” Cecilia said, accepting the baby from the robust woman. “Look at those big, green eyes! Her mouth is a little rosebud.”
“How are the sisters of Santa Lucia?” Anne asked.
Cecilia frowned slightly. “You’ve already asked me that, dear. They’re fine and send their love.”
Anne wrung her hands nervously. “Yes, I forgot.” She bit her lip. “Are you sure no one suspects?”
Sabina sighed. “Anne…”
“No one knows the truth but me,” Cecilia assured.
Anne burst into tears. “If they knew the truth, they would hate me.”
Cecilia and Sabina exchanged a worried glance.
“Hate is a strong word,” Cecilia pointed out. “The nuns would feel sorrow that you fell into temptation, but they could never hate you.” She smiled. “Everyone loves you, Anne.”
Anne stayed behind in the room to put Stefania to sleep while Sabina led her sister to the main hall. “I’m extremely concerned about her,” she whispered. “She’s always so melancholy; I’m at a loss. She wants to return to the convent.”
Cecilia pursed her lips. “She cannot.”
“I know that
and she knows that, too. I think Anne secretly resents the baby. She believes her life is destroyed.”
“Anne’s life was destroyed because two adults committed a sin.” Cecilia sighed sadly. “Anne must take responsibility for her actions and assume her duty as a mother.”
Sabina frowned. “She is doing her best under duress, yet Marco’s life continues undeterred. It’s unfair.”
“Very unfair, I agree, but life is unfair,” Cecilia conceded. “That is the way of the world.”
“Could we not report Marco to the Archbishop?”
Cecilia laughed without mirth. “We could, but the Archbishop has four bastards of his own.”
“Cecilia! What a pleasure to see you again!”
Both women turned to see Massimo standing in the doorway. He still looked dashing despite the gray hair he sported at the temples and the crow’s feet around his eyes. He kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek in greeting. The servants brought out wine, soft cheese, and dried figs.
“Is Stefania not the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?” he asked proudly. “We’ve fallen in love with her.”
“She is, indeed,” Cecilia replied. “A lovely little angel.”
The fact that Stefania was born out of wedlock from a sordid affair between a corrupt bishop and a naïve nun did not matter to Massimo. He loved the baby with all his heart and Sabina loved him for it.
“How long will you be staying with us?” he asked.
“A few weeks.”
“Why not a few months?”
“Thank you, but I have to get back to my charity work.”
“Stay as long as you can,” he said before kissing his wife’s forehead. “I’m going out and may not be back in time for dinner.”
“He’s a good man,” Cecilia commented as Massimo walked away.
“Yes, he is.”
Cecilia spent the majority of the following days with Anne, doing everything within her power to lighten her niece’s mood. Sabina gave them privacy to speak and often heard the sound of her daughter’s sobs.
Sabina was pensive one night as she sat at the dressing table getting ready for bed. Massimo came into the room and, seeing his wife’s expression, took the ivory comb from her hand.
“Here, let me do that,” he said. After a while of combing his wife’s long hair, a tiny smile settled upon his lips. “I can’t believe we’re both past our sixtieth year.”
