by Debbie Rix
‘I am glad to hear it, signora. There is one easy way in which the debt can be discharged. If you were to cede the galley to me, I would walk away.’
‘I can see, from your point of view, that that would be a simple and expedient way, to resolve the matter. But I see from our records that Lorenzo had already paid off part of the loan to you… so, even with compound interest that is due, the value of the galley would far exceed the monies owed.’
Realising the widow was no fool, Benedete smiled and nodded.
‘I have another proposition for you, signore,’ Berta continued. ‘I am in need of an amount of money for a personal project. Sixty florins to be precise. I will sign the ship over to you in return for such a sum. If there is any imbalance, I would happily include part of our latest cargo of pepper, brought back only a month ago by Lorenzo from his last trip. It is the freshest cargo in Pisa, I understand, and would fetch a good price. Massoud can help to work out how much would be needed to make up the debt.’
‘Why would you sell the galley now?’ the merchant enquired.
‘Because my husband is dead. And I am no longer sure I will be able to manage the business as he chose to do, extending the fleet, making more and more journeys in search of imports and exports. I have my own interests, and they do not extend to the sea, at least not at this stage. But I want it understood that this is not a loan. The galley and the cargo of pepper will discharge the debt. Do we have an agreement?’
The merchant did not keep her waiting long. ‘You drive a hard bargain, signora, but we do. I will send my notary to deal with yours, and the monies shall be paid over directly, as soon as the papers are signed.’
‘Thank you, signore, I will leave Massoud to make the arrangements.’
Berta rose and went upstairs to her chamber. Aurelia was busying herself tidying the room, folding clothes, placing her mistress’s gowns back in the oak chests.
‘Aurelia, I would like you to lay out the grey silk gown for me.’
‘Signora, the grey? You mean the one you gave to me.’
‘I mean the grey silk that I lent to you, yes, Aurelia. Please fetch it.’
The girl went to her own room and took the dress from behind the door, where it had hung since she last wore it.
‘Help me to change, please.’
‘But signora, I thought you said the colour did not suit you?.’
‘Well, I have changed my mind. Now help me please.’
The girl unlaced the gown and laid it on the bed before helping her mistress step into the grey silk.
Seated at her dressing table, Berta considered her maid. There was something in her manner that had changed. She was older, of course… more mature. But there was something else, a slight defiance, which surprised her.
Looking at her reflection in the glass, Berta thought back to the evening Gerardo had come to the palazzo. Aurelia, dressed in the grey silk, her pale skin flushed as she entered the dining hall with the young man. What was it that he had said that evening? Aurelia had persuaded him to come. She had dismissed it that night as an idle remark, but now she wondered if it had more significance.
‘I think the colour suits me well, don’t you, Aurelia?’
‘Yes, signora.’
‘I had thought to give you the dress, but on reflection, I think I will keep it for myself. There are days when pale grey like this is the perfect colour. It suits my mood: neither dark, not colourful, but quiet, sombre, elegant. Don’t you agree?’
‘I do, signora… it is very pleasing.’ Aurelia’s tone was muted.
‘I think, on reflection, it is a little too elegant for you. We will find another… something to match your eyes perhaps? Made of linen, or wool, I think, not silk. It is a little too refined for someone in your position.’
Aurelia attempted a smile, but the spite of this last remark had stung. She was just a maid, but somehow, until this day, Berta had always contrived to make her feel just a little more important than a mere servant. It was an unusually cruel observation.
‘Please dress my hair, Aurelia. Something simple away from my neck. Then cover it with a cap, just that plain linen one.’
The girl brushed, twisted and coiled the beautiful red hair, fighting the inclination to pull it just a little too hard, while Berta stroked lavender water on her neck. She watched the girl as she worked, noting the pursed lips pinched together. She was a pretty girl, but not a beauty. It seemed impossible that Gerardo might prefer her – young and sweet though she was. She touched her fingers in the pot of cochineal on her table, dabbing them onto her lips to give them a little colour. Pinching her cheeks to drive away the pallor of the last few days, she stood at last and sent for three members of her household to accompany her to the Piazza.
Leaving her retinue on the edge of the square, she walked around the buildings studying the progress of the work. Although funding was short, a smaller core workforce remained, finishing off certain jobs at both the Baptistery and the Duomo. Gerardo, she knew, was amongst them.
Several storeys up, Gerardo saw a figure in a familiar grey dress. His heart missed a beat. He swung down from the scaffolding and made his excuses to the lapicida. Once on the ground, he ran his hands through his hair and wiped the dust off his face with the edge of his shirt. He followed the dress round the Piazza, before finally coming up behind her; inhaling the scent of lavender, he tapped her shoulder.
‘So you came back, my little flower.’
Berta swung round and Gerardo, confused, gasped before saying quickly, ‘Cara, I am glad to see you.’
‘And I you; but you seem surprised.’
‘No, no,’ he said hurriedly, hiding his disappointment that it was not Aurelia standing before him. ‘It was just that I did not think to see you for a while longer. I heard about Lorenzo; I am so sorry. I did not send word, it did not seem right. Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ she smiled at him, ‘I am well. It was a shock, you know, and there is so much to arrange; but I will survive. He was a good man, and I cared for him but… well you know… things were not what they were. The business is in such a mess and I have been very busy trying to unravel it all.’ And then, touching his arm, she said, ‘I have missed you… so much.’
He smiled and she took his arm. They walked to the edge of the Piazza.
‘What did you mean? I came back.’
‘Nothing, only that… well it’s been some time since we last met. I merely meant that it I was glad to see you.’
Berta studied his face, intently. ‘My little flower… is that how you think of me?’
‘No, yes. Well… of course. Except that you are so much more than that; you are a field of flowers, all sweetly scented, waving in the wind; like a field of poppies, with your beautiful red hair.’
And at this he stroked her cheek, leaning in to kiss her.
She ducked and pulled him by the hand down a quiet side street.
‘Pretty words, Gerardo. But listen to me, I have things I need to discuss with you. We need to find somewhere where we can meet. I cannot invite you to the house yet, it would not be seemly. In time, perhaps, but not yet, and I would so like to see you, Gerardo.’
She slipped her hand inside his open linen shirt and stroked his chest. ‘I have been thinking of you so much.’
‘And I you.’ With Berta standing before him, regal, beautiful, enticing, all thoughts of little Aurelia disappeared from his mind.
‘I will take a small house… on this side of the river and we can meet there. I will send word with the address as soon as it is arranged. I could send Aurelia with it. Would you like that?’
Gerardo flushed. Desperate to conceal his feelings for Aurelia from Berta, his thoughts were now filled with the vision of Aurelia’s tear-stained face when they had last met: ‘I hate you, Gerardo, do you understand,’ she had said ‘I hate you. And I hate her too.’
‘I see that you would. Is she your little flower, Gerardo?’
‘Cara, Berta… no
. She is nothing to me… just a child. It is you that I want.’
‘Good, I am glad to hear it.’ Her tone was crisp, businesslike suddenly.
‘And Gerardo, do not forget the work at the Tower of San Nicola. Deotisalvi will be starting that project soon, and your place and that of your grandfather is secure. I have made sure of that. Your talent will soon be recognized, caro, believe me.’
She pulled him towards her and, in the lengthening shadow of the building, she kissed him, secure in the knowledge that whatever his feelings for Aurelia, he would at last be hers.
The house that Berta final chose was on a very quiet street in the north-east of the city, near the church of San Francesco. It belonged to old friends who agreed to lend her the property in return for past favours.
‘I need to get away – the palazzo is so full of memories of Lorenzo. Just for a few weeks,’ she assured them, ‘possibly less.’
When she first visited the house, she had been struck by the quality of the light that poured into the upper rooms. She was also thrilled by how isolated it was, sitting, as it did, away from other houses, and within a large garden of its own.
The property had been uninhabited for some time, and she instructed Massoud to arrange for some simple furnishings to be installed.
‘I shall need a table and some chairs, and a couple of tapestries; please bring some from the big house. And a bed of course, in case I need to rest, or even stay the night from time to time. I need the house as a refuge, Massoud,’ she added, ‘somewhere I can go to work on my designs and think. This house is filled with too many memories of Lorenzo and our time together.’
Massoud made the arrangements and, within a week, Berta sent word to Gerardo to meet her there. She despatched Giuseppe, who fortunately could not read, with a note for her lover, rather than entrusting the information to Aurelia. She understood now that her maid and her lover shared an attraction. Perhaps Aurelia even believed herself in love with Gerardo, and the location of her love nest, for the moment, must remain secret.
He was to meet her after dark, to avoid attracting too much attention. And Berta, who had never been required to cater or manage her own household, threw herself into the arrangements.
Informing staff at the palazzo that she would be going away for a day or two, she packed a small bag with one change of clothing, and a few household items such as dishes and cups. Her belongings were piled onto the small handcart and Berta, accompanied by Giuseppe and Massoud, walked in bright sunshine to the house. With her belongings deposited and farewells said to Massoud, Berta went into the town to purchase food and wine, arranging for it to be delivered later that day. She explored the large garden and was delighted to find that vegetables had been grown by a previous occupant. There were herbs of all kinds, with sorrel and wild garlic growing on the edges of the garden. She picked a large basket of leaves and set about preparing a dish of greens for their supper. As soon as the food arrived, she lit the fire in the kitchen and prepared a stew of fresh rabbit with herbs and wine. It was a dish that she remembered eating as a child, and while no expert cook, she understood what was needed to make a good dish.
Massoud had arranged for the house to be expertly cleaned, and sheets had been delivered along with the furnishings, but the bed itself was not made up. Berta had never performed this task before, but soon mastered the art, and stood back triumphantly, once the job was done. She draped a tapestry that she had brought from the palazzo over the top and lay down on the bed, delighted to find it was comfortable. From there, she had a wonderful view of the Piazza in the distance and she could clearly see the Duomo and behind it the Baptistery. When her preparations were complete, she collected water in a bowl from the well in the garden and took it upstairs and washed. The clear water was cold, fresh and reviving. She had brought few clothes with her – just a pale lilac silk gown – and this she changed into, adding a pearl necklace and earrings, leaving her hair down around her shoulders.
Pouring wine into a majolica cup, she waited for Gerardo to arrive.
Aurelia had spent the day in a state of panic. Berta had not taken her into her confidence, but she had observed the hushed conversations with Massoud. She heard her mistress rise early that morning. Normally, Berta would have called for her the moment she awoke, but that morning no call came. Eventually, Aurelia crept out of bed and opened the door into her mistress’s chamber. She saw Berta’s lilac dress laid out on the bed and heard her humming softly to herself. Silently, she watched as Berta took a small leather bag from the chest in her room, folded the dress carefully and put it inside. She saw Berta leave the room and go downstairs, soon returning, clutching two cups and two plates, which she wrapped carefully in fabric before placing them, too, into the bag on her bed. Aurelia observed her removing her comb and some jewellery – a simple string of pearls and two pairs of earrings – from her dressing box and slipping them deftly into the little pouch she wore at her waist.
‘Massoud,’ shouted Berta, as she quickly left the room.
It was unusual for Berta not to call on Aurelia before she left home. In fact Aurelia could not recall any day when she had not been asked to find a dress, or a piece of jewellery, or arrange her mistress’s hair. Clearly, whatever Berta intended to do that day was to be a secret. She could think of no subject her mistress had ever kept from her. She had shared her rage about her husband’s financial difficulties, had expressed grief on his death, and had gossiped about friends, servants and relations. Through her mother, she was even aware of Berta’s sadness about her lack of children. There was only one topic she and Berta had never discussed…Gerardo. Aurelia began to think back over their recent exchanges. The day she had taken back the grey dress. Why had she done that? Was it simply to hurt Aurelia? That had been her initial understanding. A way of putting Aurelia back into her place. Had she become too bold perhaps? Expecting a beautiful silk dress as a gift. She was after all just a servant in this household. And yet… Berta had shown her great kindness in the months since she had lived in her house and it seemed out of character of her to take the dress away. Was it perhaps because she was jealous of her young maid… that the dress gave her a beauty and a sophistication which the older woman did not like? Was it because she understood that Gerardo might, in some way, care for Aurelia...?
Desperate now for some sort of clarification, Aurelia went downstairs to the kitchen, and saw Maria. ‘Where is la signora going?’ she asked her.
‘She has had to leave for a few days; she has urgent business elsewhere,’ replied the housekeeper. ‘Now get on with your duties, Aurelia. You should take the opportunity to clean her room and make it tidy for her return.’
Back in Berta’s room, Aurelia searched for clues for where Berta might have gone. She was certain that she had left to be with Gerardo, and while she knew in her heart that there was nothing she could do to prevent it, the jealousy and pain were so acute that she was unable to think of anything else.
Before lunch, she went down to the stables to look for the carriage driver.
‘Giuseppe, how are you?’ she asked sweetly. ‘I have brought you some cider from the kitchen.’
Giuseppe, who was unused to such kindness, took the jug and drank it down in one draught. It was a hot morning and he had been cleaning the horses’ hooves.
‘Thank you, Aurelia; and what brings you to me this lovely day?’
‘Oh nothing really, but with the mistress away I have some time on my hands. Where did she go, by the way?’ she asked innocently.
‘Oh, the top of the town. Massoud says she’s taken a house there.’
‘Oh, I see. When you say the top of the town, what do you mean? Near the Duomo?’
‘What’s it to you, little miss nosy,’ Giuseppe said with a smile.
‘Oh, I just wondered, in case she needed me to take her anything, it would be useful to know where she was.’
‘If she’d wanted you to know, she’d have told you, wouldn’t she? Now be off. I’v
e got work to do. Thanks for the cider.’
Aurelia went dispiritedly back to Berta’s room. But as the afternoon wore on, she was unable to contain her curiosity. She would go to Gerardo’s house. If Berta was intending to meet him, he would be sure to go home first. As the bells of San Sepolcro tolled for the evening Angelus, she crept down the palazzo’s grand staircase and opened the front door as quietly as possible. She ran as fast as she could to Gerardo’s house. It took her only a short time and she was out of breath as she positioned herself in the little lane opposite his doorway. The house was made of verrucano – the local stone. A traditional tower house, the lintel over the wooden front door provided a clue as to the occupations of its residents, for old Gerardo had carved, in intricate detail, a galley in full sail and, beside it, a mason swinging his axe down onto a piece of stone. She did not have to wait long before the object of her desire returned from work, sauntering down the lane with his grandfather. The two chatted amicably and Aurelia felt a kind of helpless fury at the young man’s cheeriness, while she felt nothing but misery and distress.
As they entered their house, Aurelia kept out of sight, certain that young Gerardo would soon emerge and she would be able to follow him. She was unsure what she might achieve by doing so, but was powerless to leave. However, the long wait began to exhaust her. As the sun dipped down over the roofs and the moon began its rise, tears were falling down her pale cheeks. Still there was no sign of Gerardo. Her legs aching, she slumped down onto the ground, hoping the earth would not mark her dress. She was hungry and beginning to regret coming. At the other end of the lane, she had noticed a stall that sold tempting little onion and vegetable tarts. She could smell the onions being cooked; her mouth watered, and her stomach began to rumble. She felt in her pocket; she had a couple of coins that Berta had given her for an errand the previous day – just enough to buy something to eat. But still she stood watch, waiting and hoping that Gerardo would emerge.
Finally, unable to bear the hunger any more, she ran up the lane to where the merchant had laid out his stall.
