by Leanne Owens
The man, perplexed, rubbed a temple, causing the others to laugh.
‘She’ll beat you every time,’ said Zo, taking her hand tenderly and looking at her with amused pride. ‘I learned long ago not to argue with her when she sets you with that look of the jouster lining you up in her sites. She’s going to win because if she’s looking at you like that, she knows she’s going to knock you out of your saddle and into the dust.’
‘I don’t mean to knock you into the dust,’ Elli waved a hand in an apologetic flick. ‘I simply don’t believe that the small number of humans who believe in our version of God, with the Pope as Peter’s successor, are more correct than the greater number who believe in something different.’
‘Unless, of course,’ Leonardo raised a hand to emphasise his point, ‘that Pope is a Medici Pope.’
‘In which case,’ Elli stated with complete confidence, grinning at Leo, ‘clearly, that Pope is God’s chosen one and has a mandate to rule.’
‘And which one of the Medici family,’ Zo smiled fondly at Elli, ‘do you put forward as Pope, my sweet one?’
‘Piero, as your oldest son, will take over as head of the family, so it can’t be him,’ she answered thoughtfully with an imperceptible twist to her lips as she thought him a poor shadow of his father. ‘Clearly, it must be Giovani, since it is accepted that the second son can choose the Church.’
Leo raised a cup, ‘To Giovanni di Lorenzo de' Medici, our Pope!’
‘To the Medici Pope!’ Antonio chimed in.
‘He’s five,’ Lorenzo snorted in amusement at the enthusiasm of his friends. ‘We have a few years before he is elected head of the Church.’
‘Play your cards right, and he’ll be a cardinal by the time he’s twenty,’ predicted Antonio.
‘And a Pope by forty,’ chimed in Leo.
***
‘They were a bit out with their dates,’ Ally said, her expression dry. ‘A cardinal at thirteen, Pope at thirty-seven.’ A sadness entered her eyes, and she added, ‘Zo died twenty-one years before Giovanni became Pope. There were, in fact, two Medici Popes. Giovanni became Pope Leo X and Zo’s adopted son, Giulio, the son of his brother, Giuliano, became Pope Clement VII.’
‘That was Fioretta’s son?’ Sandy asked. ‘One of your few female friends?’
‘Correct. Giuliano, was to marry one of the Appiani’s, an arranged marriage, as Lucrezia was the queen of forging powerful alliances through marriage. But he loved Fioretta - Antonietta Gorini. Her father was a professor who often took part in our private discussions. Fioretta adored Giuliano. She was pregnant when the Pazzi assassins murdered Giuliano, and she gave birth to Giulio a month later. Lucrezia took charge of it all, and Giulio ended up being raised by Clarice alongside her own children as a Medici son.’
‘Ouch,’ muttered, Lynette, imagining that Clarice would not appreciate an illegitimate child raised as an equal to her own. ‘Did she kick up a stink about that?’
‘She knew better than to oppose Lucrezia,’ Elli smiled. ‘We all did. When there was turmoil in Florence, Lucrezia made sense of it all. After they killed Giuliano, she sent Clarice and the children to the country to be safe from spies and assassins, leaving me with Zo. When Giulio was born, she kept him safe, and she told Clarice that Giulio would join the family as another son. To give Clarice her due, she was an excellent mother, and she raised two Popes. Few women can claim that honour.’
‘I read that Lucrezia de’ Medici was a very astute woman,’ put in Nick. He had spent some time the previous night learning more about the Medici family, not because he wanted to trick Ally into revealing holes in her story, but because he wanted to understand the people about whom she was speaking.
‘Very,’ Ally stated emphatically, thinking of the dynamo who was Lucrezia de’ Medici. ‘If Zo’s mother lived today, she would be running multinational corporations and entire countries. She knew about Zo and me, and, although not completely approving of the relationship, she accepted it because it was clear I helped her son and didn’t try to interfere in the family business or her plans. Also, I was not cluttering up the house with natural-born children…’
‘Natural?’ interrupted Sandy.
‘Illegitimate,’ Ally gave her a saucy wink and wriggled her eyebrows comically. ‘Without twenty-first century birth control, men who had a bit on the side also had children on the side. They were everywhere. But Elli never fell pregnant. Luckily, for Lorenzo and the Medici family, Clarice produced ten children, though the twins and the first Contessina died as babies. I guess Lucrezia preferred me to a woman who’d spit babies out like peas.’
‘Ew,’ Lynette grimaced at the expression. ‘Well, you might not have been spitting them out, but didn’t it worry you that Lorenzo and his wife were obviously having sex if she was having ten children?’
Ally raised her shoulders in gesture of indifference. ‘It was how it was done. Wives had children. Mistresses had fun up until they had children. Clarice was an excellent wife. She gave him children, she acted on behalf of the family to increase their wealth and power, and she instilled enough religion into the children to allow two of them to become Popes. I had no animosity towards her, and Zo had great respect for her.’
‘Was she still alive when your Zo passed?’ asked Andrew.
‘Clarice died four years before Zo, in 1488 - and I swear Elli had nothing to do with it. That was ten years after the Pazzi conspiracy. Her death caused one of the few fights between us. He didn’t go to her funeral, and I thought he should.’
‘Really?’ Andrew looked surprised. ‘She gave him ten children, and he didn’t go to her funeral.’
‘To be fair,’ Ally clarified, ‘he was genuinely unwell at the time. Clarice’s health had been bad, but Zo had been suffering from gout, and he was in excruciating pain. He was only thirty-nine, but he could barely walk. I suspect that there was more to this than arthritis, as it often grew worse when his friend Pico was visiting, and Pico had become very close to Savonarola – the hateful Giro from Ferrara.
‘We had gone to Filetta where he was taking the spa waters in the hope to relieve the pain. He received the news she’d died, but his advisors told him to complete his treatment. I thought he should go. They said he should stay. He stayed. We fought over it, and I went back to Florence for her funeral, although I had to pretend to be one of the public mourners as I had no place there.
‘There was some backlash, of course – it was bad form not to attend his wife’s funeral when she was such an important person in her own right. He smoothed it over, though. He wrote a letter to the Pope saying how much he missed Clarice, and he skated through, once more, because of his gift with words. The fact remains that he could have gone to her funeral, and he didn’t. He later told me that he felt it was one small way to show me that, although he had to be married to someone else, and cared for her in his own way, he did not love her. He loved me. We only had four years left after that.’
‘He still should have gone to her funeral,’ muttered Lynette.
‘I agree,’ said Ally, ‘and he received a dressing down from me, but when he set his mind on something, he was the original immovable object. Mind you, if Lucrezia had been alive, I can guarantee he would have gone. She was only in her mid-fifties when she died in 1582, and – I could be wrong – but I suspect that someone poisoned her. Honestly, people were popping poison into foods all over Italy at the time.’
‘Who would want her dead?’ asked Andrew.
‘Lots of people. Any enemy of Lorenzo. Business rivals. She was an entrepreneur herself, and owned a lot of businesses. There were men in other families jealous of her success. She was so far ahead of her time, it was amazing, really. She also wrote poetry, was a big supporter of the poor, and she helped widows and orphans. Lorenzo listened to her, and she helped make him great with her advice. She strengthened the Medicis with all the marriages she arranged to give them a solid network of family ties throughout the powerful dynasties of Italy.
‘Lucrezia made sure that Elli had enough money to be independent for the rest of her life. She said it was a reward for taking care of Zo after that Easter Sunday, but I suspect it was because she understood the difficult position of being a woman without means at the time. Also, at some point she realised I was the daughter of her old friend, and my mother had passed away by then, so perhaps she felt a little responsible for me. She made it so I could leave Zo if I wished, but, of course, I had no such wish. I didn’t see her very often, but when we did meet, she usually pretended to believe that I was one of Zo’s young male friends. She never once tried to break us up, though she did frequently remind Zo of his duties as Clarice’s husband.’
‘I still can’t believe he didn’t go to his wife’s funeral.’ Sandy shook her head in disapproval.
‘I can see why he wouldn’t,’ said Peter, pressing his lips tightly together as he hesitated in order to gather his words. Even after all these years, he was careful with his speech in order to prevent the stutter returning. ‘It was his way of showing Elli that he loved her. He’d rather be with her in Filetta than make an empty show of emotions by going to Clarice’s funeral.’
‘He still should have gone,’ Sandy shook a finger at Peter. ‘She was his wife. She’d given birth to ten children. He owed her.’
‘But he did what was right by her while she was alive,’ he argued, ‘Once she wasn’t there to witness his actions, he chose to stand by Elli.’
‘Elli wanted him to go to the funeral,’ Sandy insisted. ‘Didn’t she, Ally? He was letting both Clarice and Elli down by not going. I don’t understand how a man as intelligent as that could be so stupid.’
‘He’s a man,’ put in Nick drolly. ‘We are often stupid when it comes to emotions. I can see how he thought Elli would be delighted by his show of loyalty. It probably came as a huge surprise that she wanted him to go to Clarice’s funeral.’
‘I don’t believe you’re emotionally stupid,’ Lynette tapped him on the arm, meeting his eyes and feeling the electric jolt that occurred every time they looked at each other. ‘If you were married with ten kids…’
‘God forbid,’ he interjected.
‘…and we were carrying on, like we are, and your wife died, I can’t imagine for a moment that you’d try to prove to me that you love me by not going to her funeral.’
‘Would you want me to go?’
‘Of course, I would!’ she exclaimed. ‘She gave birth ten times for you.’
‘But I’m sure some of the children are not mine,’ he said, teasingly, the corners of his mouth twitching. ‘The youngest looks awfully like a little Donald Trump, and the middle boy, well, he’s got Denzel Washington written all over him.’
Laughter bubbled from all of them.
When Sandy’s shoulders stopped shaking from amusement, she smiled at Ally. ‘Just how the hell has your story become so real? I’m listening and I’m there with Elli. Her stories are becoming a part of me.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Ally. ‘I wanted her to be known.’
‘What else happened in this decade?’ Sandy put a question in, keen to keep Ally talking.
‘The 1480s?’ Ally raised her brows and received a nod from Sandy. ‘Lots, but, as I’ve said before, for events, you can just Google them for details. In short, it was a busy decade in the world. England had the tale of two princes in the tower, and Richard the Third is crowned king, then Henry the Seventh takes the crown. The French had their Mad War. The Spanish always seemed to be fighting someone. Giovanni Pico della Mirandola wrote his 900 Theses and Oration on the Dignity of Man. And Lorenzo was given a giraffe.’
Lynette spluttered, ‘A giraffe?’
‘I know,’ Ally grinned, ‘it’s crazy, isn’t it? But leaders and powerful families often gave expensive and bizarre gifts to curry favour with others, and an Egyptian sultan gave Zo a giraffe. It was the first giraffe to visit Italy since Julius Caesar’s time, so it was hugely exciting. Zo built an expensive, heated stable and enclosure to keep his giraffe safe and – don’t laugh as it isn’t funny. I mean it - it is not a laughing matter,’ Ally’s lips quivered as she forced back a chuckle that she knew was completely inappropriate. ‘Shortly after it arrived at its new home, it got its head stuck in the rafters and broke its neck.’
Despite her warnings about finding amusement in the occurrence, snorts and guffaws greeted the disclosure of the fate of the giraffe.
‘I’m sorry, Ally,’ Sandy apologised, her shoulders shaking. ‘There is nothing comical about the death of an animal, and I’ve been outraged over those giraffe hunting photos on Facebook, but - you have to admit - there is something a little bizarre in a giraffe breaking its neck five hundred years ago.’
‘It’s definitely the time that lends humour,’ said Peter, trying to excuse his laughter. ‘You’re right. There’s absolutely nothing funny about it, but to think, five hundred years ago, Lorenzo spent all that money to keep a giraffe safe, and it broke its neck. It’s neck.’
‘Enough of the giraffe,’ Ally frowned at them, though her eyes twinkled. ‘The eighties also brought Giro back into my life. I’m not sure whether to tell you about him now, or pack up for movie night and leave it until tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Andrew said with a clap of his hands. ‘I want the chance to read about Savonarola tonight so that I can have some background on him.’
‘Plus,’ Lynette pointed both hands at Sandy, ‘I want to get ready for our very own Sandy L. Martin movie night.’
‘Movie night – yay,’ Sandy replied in an underwhelmed voice.
Stretching her head and arms back to relieve the tension in her back, Ally grinned like the eager teen from long ago, and announced, ‘Let’s have movie night!’
Peter cautioned her, ‘Not before Gina has checked you out. It’s been a long day for you.’
‘Oh, piffle, Peter,’ she tucked in one corner of her mouth and wrinkled her nose, ‘it hasn’t been difficult – I’ve sat around talking. I’m fine.‘That may be so,’ he adopted his tolerant bedside manner, ‘but we’ll still need Gina to make sure. How about we put you back in your bed, and we go and get movie night ready, then I come back in an hour for you?’
‘How about,’ she cocked an eyebrow at him, ‘you don’t speak to me like I’m a little old lady.’
‘As if,’ Peter snorted in amusement at ever thinking of her that way.
In Peter’s house, Andrew admired the arrangement of furniture in front of the large screen television. ‘This is good, I’m really getting a 1976 vibe from it.’
‘Then this should vibe your socks off,’ grinned Lynette, as she linked her phone to Peter’s speaker and started blasting ABBA’s Fernando into the room. ‘I just downloaded the Australian top fifty from 1976. Go ABBA!’
Lynette and Sandy jumped onto the sofa with make-believe microphones in their hands, impersonating the singers Agnetha and Anni-Frid. The four men stood back and watched, applauding as they finished the song, which quickly changed to begging them not to follow with a Freddy Mercury performance when Queen started playing Bohemian Rhapsody.
‘That doesn’t make you feel horribly younger than us, does it?’ Lynette asked Nick as he enfolded her in an embrace once she left the sofa.
‘Those songs don’t even make teenagers feel younger than you,’ he smiled down at her, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes. ‘You remember them from 1976. Everyone else knows them from the Mamma Mia movies and Rami Malek’s Oscar winning movie. They don’t age anyone. Anyway,’ he whispered as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead, ‘a woman as beautiful, intelligent, and sexy as you is ageless. Stop worrying about being older or younger – all that matters is that you are alive and you are here.’
‘Thank you,’ her voice seemed to catch on emotions in her throat. To disguise it, she turned her face up to meet his lips, and disappeared into the vortex of a kiss.
‘Get a room!’ Sandy threw a pillow at them.
‘Do you want to take her advice?�
� Nick spoke suggestively, looking towards the bedroom.
‘Normally, I would,’ Lynette grimaced as she delivered the bad news, ‘but Bohemian Rhapsody is going to finish soon, and then Dancing Queen is going to play, and I can’t, I simply can’t, miss performing that song with Sandy.’
‘Really?’ he narrowed his eyes, not sure if she was joking.
‘Really,’ she nodded, her expression alight with humour.
‘You do realise that you are the very important head of an extremely significant and serious alternative energies concern, don’t you?’
Detecting the mischievous glint in his eyes, she nodded happily, winked at him, and hip bumped him as she moved away to join Sandy on the sofa. Peter was not at all concerned that they were dancing on his furniture, and gave them a thumbs up, before moving to Nick’s side to console him.
‘Boyfriends never had a look in when it came to ABBA,’ he informed him dryly. ‘I can’t begin to tell you how many times I saw these two perform this song.’
‘It is quite impressive,’ Nick grinned, his eyes on Lynette.
‘It is quite, ah, unique,’ put in Marcus, who’d come to stand beside them and watch. ‘Sandy L. Martin is my idol. She is the most gifted, refined, cultured, dignified, and composed actor of our time. Lynette Morrison is one of the leading minds regarding alternative energies on the planet. And yet…’ he held his hand out towards the women on the sofa and looked slightly perplexed, ‘…they are also teenagers at a party in 1976.’
‘We’re all still teenagers,’ Ally spoke from behind them. ‘Time marches on, but the craziness of our teen years can live on if we let it.’
‘You’re early,’ said Andrew, throwing an arm around her shoulders to bring her in close to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m glad – we can get this party started.’
‘I’d be curious,’ Marcus looked at Andrew with narrowed eyes, ‘to see if you are still in contact with your teenage self.’
