Secrets of the Tower

by Debbie Rix

  ‘An onion tart please, and please be quick, I am in a hurry.’

  ‘All right! l’m being as quick as I can,’ he replied, handing over the tart. It was hot and buttery and it burned her hands as she ran back to her post on the corner of the lane. She devoured the tart in moments, relishing the sweetness of the onions and the sour-tasting cheese on top.

  Darkness came and the city began to glow with candlelight. Aurelia, realising her vigil had been pointless, struggled to her feet ready to leave. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, Berta and Gerardo were not intending to meet after all. But as she stood in the middle of the road outside his house, brushing the crumbs off her dress, the door opened and he emerged – so handsome and freshly washed, she thought. She, by contrast, was ashen and tired. Her mouth and chin covered with crumbs and grease from the tart. Her dress was dusty and dirty and her eyes were red from crying.

  She turned to run away as soon as she saw him, but he caught her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

  ‘Little flower, what are you doing here? I am so happy to see you.’

  ‘Are you, Gerardo… really?’ she gazed hopefully into his eyes.

  ‘Of course; I thought perhaps you did not want to see me anymore,’ and he kissed her softly on the cheek. The kiss was affectionate, but chaste – as a brother might kiss a sister. He knew that Aurelia loved him, and he cared for her too, but his entanglement with Berta meant that he must now conceal his true feelings from Aurelia.

  She, encouraged by the kiss, kissed him back and their lips met. His touch was soft and gentle. He held her very tightly and, when he had stopped kissing her, buried his face in her hair and kissed her ears, her cheek.

  ‘Oh Gerardo, I have missed you so.’

  ‘And I you, little one.’

  ‘I have been so upset, about you and her. Oh Gerardo, please tell me that you don’t love her?’

  ‘Aurelia, please don’t ask me about her. It is difficult. I cannot explain to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she shouted, ‘you can… you can explain. You either love her or me. It is simple.’

  ‘Aurelia, you will understand one day, but, please, now you must trust me. I do care for you, very much. But I care for her too. She has been kind to me and she wants to help me… to become a lapicida. Can’t you see how important that is for me? I am just a mason, Aurelia, but she is offering me the chance to be someone; to make my mother proud of me.’

  ‘And would your mother be proud of how you are doing it – by giving yourself to her? Can’t you see that she is using you, Gerardo?’

  Stung by this last remark, Gerardo sought to calm the situation: ‘Aurelia, you must go now, back home. You should not be out so late at night on your own. I will take you. Come, let us go together.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be seeing her? You don’t want to upset her do you?’ Aurelia snapped.

  Gerardo said nothing, but pulled her towards him. Together they walked towards the river, and Aurelia slowly relaxed into his body, relishing the warmth of his arms around her.

  When they got to the palazzo, he suddenly pulled her into a side street and firmly but tenderly kissed her, exploring her mouth with his own, stroking her cheek, her hair.

  ‘I care for you very much, Aurelia. Please know that. I can imagine that one day we might be together. But it cannot be now. I wanted to tell you before, to explain things. But it is so hard. Please try to trust me. Will you do that?’

  Aurelia, overwhelmed by his passion and her own love for him, could only smile mutely and nod as she walked unsteadily back into the palazzo. Inside, she was angrily confronted by Maria, the housekeeper, who shouted at her for being late, and took the birch to her hand. But Aurelia felt no pain, only love.

  When Berta woke early the next morning, Gerardo was already up. The sun lay low in the morning sky, winking through the small panes of glass in her window of her cassetta.

  ‘Gerardo, you’re leaving so early? It’s not even light yet. Please don’t go, caro, please stay with me?’

  She lay across the bed, stroking his back, as he sat on the edge pulling his shirt over his head.

  ‘I must go; I’m sorry. I’ll be late and I don’t want to get a reputation for being unreliable. And I need to collect nonno… he’s getting on. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he needs me to help him carry his tools to the site.’

  ‘Well I’m sure that’s very laudable, and I’m sure I’m very impressed by your sense of duty, but what about your duty to me?’ And she coiled herself around him, kissing his stomach before laying her head in his lap.

  ‘I could come back later if you would like?’

  ‘Yes of course, I would like it very much. Please do...can you stay again? I can cook another meal. Did you like the rabbit I cooked last night? It would have been better, but you were so late. Why were you so late? I never asked.’

  Gerardo wandered over to the window, tying his belt around his waist.

  ‘I told you, I had to go to a meeting with Deotisalvi; we lay the foundations for the new Tower of San Nicola today.’

  Gerardo had a momentary frisson of guilt as he remembered kissing Aurelia the evening before. He was uncomfortable with having to lie, it was not in his nature. But he had set himself on a course and was powerless to walk away now. He went on with the deceit, to protect his lover’s feelings, to protect Aurelia from Berta’s inevitable rage if they were discovered, to protect himself.

  ‘I’m sure you understand I couldn’t let him down, it’s our first week. And he is a difficult man to please; I need to show him what I can do. But I’m sorry if I spoiled your meal, which was delicious by the way. I had no idea you could cook.’

  Berta smiled and uncoiled herself, lying back down against the pillows.

  ‘Neither did I, truth be told. But I don’t think cooking’s as hard as people make out. I’m glad you are so enthusiastic about the tower. Deotisalvi is a great man, and we are fortunate that he has agreed to take you on; not that you don’t deserve it. He is impressed by your grandfather. He has great respect for him. So, you will come back tonight? And I will cook you another meal and we will spend another wonderful night together. Would you like that?’

  He leant down and kissed her, pushing thoughts of Aurelia out of his mind.

  ‘Of course, you know I would. Now, I must go.’

  Kneeling on the bed, she watched him leave. He walked fast towards the Piazza, turning and waving just as he got to the corner. She waved back, feeling excitement and love in equal measure. She had never felt this way before. She had cared for Lorenzo and she had imagined at the time that she loved him, but she knew now that she had never loved anyone the way she loved Gerardo.

  Once he was out of sight of the house, Gerardo leant back against the wall of the nearest building and breathed deeply. He had promised himself it would ‘just be once’. Just one night, then, perhaps he could find a way to explain to Berta how he felt. But how did he feel? He cared for Berta, yes. But he cared for Aurelia too. His head spun as he wrestled with his feelings. Easier to put it to one side. At least for today.

  Gerardo hurried back towards the house he shared with his grandfather. The sun was just rising and the wooden tower houses, recently built along the lanes in the north-east part of the town, cast long shadows. In the early morning light, the roof of the Duomo glinted in the sunshine. There was a chill in the air and Gerardo quickened his pace. He arrived home just as his grandfather was opening the front door.

  ‘Aah, good you’re here,’ his grandfather smiled.

  ‘I’m sorry, nonno. I had to go out early. I’ll be quick. I just need to collect some tools.’

  ‘Out early… or back late?’ the old man winked, and slapped the young man on the back as he rushed past him.

  They arrived at the new site in good time. Gerardo carried his grandfather’s tool bag and laid it carefully down. Deotisalvi was waiting for them.

  ‘Good, you’ve arrived. Gerardo the elder, I need to discuss the sto
nework with you. Young Gerardo, you organise the rest of the team. We need to make a start on the foundations today. The air is turning cold and we need to make progress before the ground gets too hard.’

  The day went well. Young Gerardo, excited to be in charge of the building team, worked tirelessly. First, he explained the plans to the team of men who had been hired to lay the foundations. Then he marked out the ground plan using wooden stakes linked with ropes. The building was to be octagonal in shape, so the angles had to be carefully calculated. The ground was soft and marshy, much like the ground beneath the Duomo and Baptistery, so digging out the foundations would be relatively easy work. But the trenches would have to be deep – twice the height of a man – which would then be filled in with rocks brought on wooden carts from sites around the city. Gerardo organised the men into relays – one crew digging and the second taking away the spoil.

  ‘First team… keep digging until it reaches about here on my thigh,’ he called out, and taking a pickaxe, he swung it hard into the earth.

  ‘He works hard,’ Deotisalvi growled to Gerardo. ‘Your boy… he works hard.’

  ‘He does, Capo Magister. You won’t find a better mason in Pisa. Some day he will make a fine lapicida,’ said old Gerardo proudly.

  Deotisalvi grunted a reply, before turning his attention to some samples of marble lying on the ground. Quarried from marble works all over Italy, each one was a subtly different shade of cream.

  ‘We need to find the perfect stone to decorate the face of the tower. The building should reflect the evening light. I want something with a warm pink tone, a contrast to the works at the Piazza with their grey and white.’

  As the two debated the superiority of the marble quarries at Monte Pisano over Elba, young Gerardo dug. He tried hard to concentrate on his work. It was the first time he had been put in charge of a team and he relished the challenge.

  ‘Can we stop for a break?’ one of the young labourers asked.

  ‘Not yet; not till we’ve broken through that bit of hard ground down there. Keep working. If we all work hard, we can stop in a while and have a break.’

  The rest of the day went by with few major problems, apart from uncovering an underground stream which they had to find a way of diverting. Gerardo was decisive and intelligent, expertly directing his men to fashion a neat stone culvert for the water to escape down. As the distant church bells struck the six o’clock Angelus, the team wrapped up their tools. Gerardo felt a huge sense of achievement.

  ‘You did well today, Gerardo,’ his grandfather said, as they walked home together. ‘I was proud of you. We have been fortunate to be offered this job, just as work ceases on the Baptistery. I suspect we have a friend of yours to thank for this, no?’

  ‘A friend, maybe. Yes. She put us up for the job, but Deotisalvi chose you, nonno. He had heard of your work on the Duomo and the Baptistery, and he wanted you as his lapicida.’

  ‘Well, you be sure to thank la signora for me, won’t you? ‘

  ‘I will. In fact,’ he paused, ‘she has asked to see me later. Would you mind if I went to see her?’

  ‘To the palazzo? No, not at all. I’m tired, Gerardo; I’m not so young. I shall eat some supper and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  His grandfather now settled, Gerardo washed carefully and, dressed in the blue tunic Berta had given him some months before, set off with a certain unease for the little house on the north-east of the town. He found Berta slightly flushed, her hair tied casually at the back of her head.

  ‘Caro, you are here… how wonderful. Sit here… let me give you something to rest your feet on. I have made us some supper; it cooks away there on the fire. I found a wonderful fowl in the market, but I had to ask them to dissect it for me. I have never cut up a chicken before. The butcher was very nice to me and showed me how it was done. He must have thought me a very strange housewife, don’t you think, not to understand such things.’

  Gerardo listened to his lover with a growing sense of anxiety. That she loved him was not in question. And he was fond of her too; she was beautiful and powerful and he had her to thank for his new job. But he found this new aspect of her personality, domesticated and intimate, unsettling. He did not see her as a wife but as an exciting companion, someone he could please, a woman of the world, who could give and receive pleasure in equal measure. Their first night together had been exciting, enchanting even. She had been a little shy, insisting on wearing a shift, but had soon allowed him to remove it, and as she lay bathed in the moonlight, he had marvelled at the beauty of her white body, at the hair tumbling around her like a fiery pillow. But he knew that fate had played a part in their relationship. If Lorenzo had not died, he was in no doubt that they would never have consummated the affair. Perhaps, over time, her passion would have cooled, he would have worked with Deotisalvi, his career would have progressed, they would have stayed friends, but he would have been free to pursue his own life, away from his powerful mistress. A life that might have included Aurelia, who, for all her youth and inexperience, he now realised he loved with a sweetness and purity he did not feel for Berta. But now he and the beautiful Berta were lovers, he could not imagine how he would ever be able to extricate himself. He knew her personality well enough – had seen her tempers, had heard her denounce others – to know that she would not let him go without a struggle.

  ‘Berta,’ he interrupted her in full flow.

  ‘Yes, caro, what is it?’ She looked up from stirring the pot over the fire. Her face glowed faintly with perspiration, and strands of her long red hair clung to her brow.

  ‘Berta, we need to talk about something.’

  ‘Anything, caro. What is troubling you?’

  ‘Berta, you know that I love being with you… at least I hope you do?’

  ‘I know that, yes.’ She noted he refrained from saying ‘I love you.’ But she was not a child. She did not need words. He was here, with her, at last. She left the pot, brushing the hair from her face with the back of her hand. She came over to Gerardo, and sat on his lap, burying her head in his shoulder. She inhaled his scent, warm and fresh, like the smell of the chestnut woods on the low hills around Pisa.

  ‘I just want us to understand one another, to understand what you…’ His voice trailed off. He could not complete the sentence. Berta had begun to kiss him. He kissed her back.

  ‘We understand one another very well,’ said Berta. ‘We love each other, that’s all we need to know for now. I am in no position to marry you, not yet anyway. It would not be seemly, so shortly after Lorenzo died. But we can go on meeting here from time to time. Isn’t that enough for now?’

  He could think of nothing to say, and when she served up their delicious ‘fowl’, he struggled to eat.

  ‘Caro, don’t you like my chicken? I went to such trouble.’

  ‘It is wonderful, Berta, I’m sorry. I must be tired, I think. It was hard work today.’

  ‘Of course, you must tell me all about it. Come and sit here by me.’

  Reluctantly, he walked around the table and sat on the bench by her side.

  She tried to feed little mouthfuls of food to him as they chatted, but he wasn’t interested. Finally, and a little tersely, she enquired if he would be ‘quite so reluctant to make love to her’.

  He took her to bed, but his mind was filled with images of Aurelia, laughing sweetly and kissing him shyly on the cheek. As his lips kissed Berta, his heart kissed Aurelia. As he cupped her breasts in his hand, it was Aurelia’s that he stroked. And when he came inside her and she cried out in ecstasy, it was Aurelia’s face that he saw.

  They lay entwined, as lovers do, for a short while. But Gerardo was anxious to leave.

  ‘I ought to go Berta – I need to get home and prepare for work tomorrow,’ and he deftly removed his arm from beneath Berta’s head.

  ‘Please don’t go yet; we have so little time together,’ she pleaded. ‘Tomorrow, I must return home. I have meetings with people about Lo
renzo’s business, and cannot risk remaining here too much longer. The staff will begin to wonder at my absences. Please stay a little longer; it may be a while before I can escape here again.’

  Gerardo did as she asked, but as they lay, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped over his stomach, he could not sleep. Just before dawn, he gently moved her onto the pillow beside him. And while she slept, he rose quickly and dressed. Kissing Berta chastely on the forehead, he left.

  As Gerardo opened the door of his house, he heard a woman’s voice from upstairs. ‘Please try to rest. I’m sure he will be home soon.’

  ‘Hello,’ he called out, ‘who is there? Nonno… are you ok?’

  Aurelia’s face appeared on the floor above and she slid down the ladder to join him and threw herself into his arms.

  ‘Oh Gerardo, thank God you are here. We have been looking for you everywhere.’

  ‘Nonno, where is he?’

  ‘He’s all right… well, he’s not well. But he’s alive, Gerardo. Oh Gerardo, he was taken ill last night, and your neighbor, Gabriella, came to find you. He thought you were at the palazzo with Berta, but we couldn’t find you. She was not at home either. I was upstairs tidying the signora’s room, and I heard the noise in the hall. I came out and saw this woman crying and saying how ill your grandfather was. So I asked Maria, the housekeeper, if I could come and look after him until you returned home. Oh Gerardo, where were you?’

  Gerardo did not answer, but clambered up the ladder to his grandfather’s room. The old man lay very still in the little cot bed that he had slept in for so many years. He was pale, his skin had turned a curious shade of grey. Gerardo sat in silence next to the old man and gently stroked his head, tears streaming down his face.

  Old Gerardo opened his eyes.

  ‘Ah my boy, there you are. I am glad.’

  ‘Oh nonno, I’m so sorry. I should have been here… I’m so sorry.’

  And he wept like a small boy.

  Aurelia, who was standing nearby, came over and touched his hair. He reached up and held her hand, pulling her down to sit by him. Together they sat, both weeping, as the old man lay almost forgotten at their side.