Secrets of the Tower

by Debbie Rix

  Aurelia, who slept in a room down the corridor, was deeply asleep and dreaming of Gerardo when she heard Berta call. Pulling on her dress over her shift, she ran into her mistress’s room.

  ‘What do you need, signora?’

  ‘Some breakfast – bring it up to me here, would you please. And lay out my green damask dress. I have to go out this morning.’

  As the Duomo struck the morning Angelus, Berta, wrapped in a warm velvet cloak, walked briskly to the building site at the tower of San Nicola. Gerardo was there, organising the men, who by now had now finished the foundations. They were laying out samples of marble on the ground to allow it to weather over the winter.

  ‘Gerardo,’ she called out as cheerfully and casually as she could, ‘you have returned.’

  As he looked up, she thought she detected a faint air of irritation in his manner. But he swiftly finished his conversation with one of the masons and came over to Berta.

  ‘I am so sorry; I got your message very late last night. The magister and I returned well after nightfall, but it was too late to visit you then. How are you, signora?’

  Berta took his arm and guided him to a quiet corner of the building site.

  ‘Such formality, caro. I am well. But there is so much to tell you, so much has happened since you went away. As I wrote in my note to you last night, I have sold the palazzo, and moved to a wonderful apartment owned by the Opera Santa Maria on the Piazza del Duomo. It is perfect, and I can watch how the Duomo and Baptistery progress from my balcony.’

  A little nervous, she found herself prattling. ‘I cannot think why Lorenzo and I did not build our house there at the start. And I have dismantled the business. I am free of it at last, free to pursue my own ambitions. Oh, and there are one or two other bits of news, but they can wait until we are alone. I have missed you, Gerardo, we have missed you.’

  ‘And I have missed you too. May I visit you this evening?’

  ‘Of course. Come as soon as you have finished here. Will you dine with me? There is so much to talk about.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ and he kissed her hand, before returning to his work.

  When Berta returned, Aurelia was filled with curiosity as to her mistress’s early morning appointment.

  ‘Did you have a good walk, signora?’ Aurelia asked as she took Berta’s cloak.

  ‘I did, Aurelia, thank you.’

  ‘Where did you go?’ Aurelia asked innocently, as she removed Berta’s linen cap.

  ‘It is none of your business, but if you must know, I went to the church of San Nicola. Gerardo has returned from his travels with Deotisalvi.’

  At the mention of his name, Aurelia dropped the linen cap on the floor.

  ‘Pick it up, Aurelia… it will mark if you are not careful.’

  ‘Sorry, signora.’

  As she put away clothes and tidied the bedchamber, Aurelia wondered how she too might be able to visit Gerardo. The solution soon presented itself.

  ‘It has been a while since you saw your mother, Aurelia. Why don’t you go and see her this evening. If you like, you may stay with her tonight. I am sure she’d enjoy your company.’

  Aurelia was delighted. ‘Thank you, signora. I am so grateful.’

  For the rest of the day, Berta sat, as usual, on the loggia, sketching and reading. Aurelia helped Maria in the kitchen, who taught her how to pluck a pair of little quails that she was preparing for Berta’s supper. As the Duomo struck three bells, Berta asked Aurelia to lay out the lilac gown and bring some water to her chamber so that she could bathe. Excited at the thought that she might see Gerardo later that evening, Aurelia went happily about her work, washing her mistress’s hair, laying out her clothes and jewellery.

  ‘You are cheerful this afternoon, Aurelia…’ Berta said, as she lay languorously in her bath.

  ‘I am, signora… I am excited to be seeing my mother,’ said Aurelia hurriedly.

  ‘I’m delighted to see such devotion. She is a fine woman and deserves your love. You blush, Aurelia… are you sure it is just your mother that excites you so?’

  ‘Of course, signora,’ Aurelia said quickly. ‘Should you not get out of the bath now, signora? The air is turning cool and you might catch a chill.’

  By early evening, Berta was dressed and sat once again on the loggia.

  ‘Thank you Aurelia, You may go now. I hope you have a pleasant time with your mother this evening.’

  Aurelia nodded and made to leave.

  ‘Oh, and Aurelia… I have a note here that I would like you to take to your mother; would that you do that for me? Perhaps you will bring back her answer when you return tomorrow?’

  The girl took the note reluctantly, slipping it into the sleeve of her dress.

  ‘Be sure to bring back your mother’s reply, won’t you?’

  Berta, convinced that Aurelia intended to meet with Gerardo herself that evening, was determined that she should visit no one but her mother. Gerardo would be sharing supper with her on her loggia soon, and her little maid would be safely ensconced in her mother’s kitchen. But it aggravated her that she should have to stoop so low. She had never concerned herself with rivals before. But this girl, she knew, mattered to Gerardo, and that, if she was honest, disturbed her a little.

  Aurelia, went to her room. She took the note from her sleeve, intending to read it, but Berta had sealed it carefully. Frustrated, she put it on the table next to her bed and changed into the blue dress, recently purchased for her by Berta. Aurelia knew that she should have been grateful to her mistress for this generosity. The dress was a beautiful colour, similar to that of a duck’s egg, and made of the softest wool. And yet she could not feel genuine gratitude, for she knew that the dress was merely a reminder of her true position. She was Berta’s maid; she must look clean and tidy, nothing more. No silk, or brocade for her. Nevertheless it was the best dress she owned and she would wear it to visit Gerardo that evening.

  She brushed her hair and tied it up into two coils at the side of her head. Taking her cloak from the hook on the door, she left the apartment, forgetting the note intended for her mother. For she did not, of course, go to her mother’s house, but went straight to visit Gerardo. Standing anxiously in the lane outside his house, she was relieved when the page Antonio opened the door.

  ‘Is Gerardo here?’

  The boy showed her inside. Gerardo was standing at the old stone sink at the back of the kitchen, his shirt discarded on a chair, washing the dust from his face and hands.

  ‘Little flower, here you are.’ He wiped his hands and face with a towel and pulled his shirt over his head before drawing her towards him and kissing her on both cheeks.

  She looked a little pale, he thought, as he held her face in his hands. He sensed her waiting, wanting him to kiss her as she gazed up at him. But knowing he would be seeing Berta later that evening, he resisted the temptation.

  ‘Let us go upstairs,’ he said.

  The sitting room of the house was sparsely decorated. Scarecely used, the furnishings were neither luxurious nor especially comfortable. Three high-backed chairs, their seats embroidered many years before by Gerardo’s mother, stood in an awkward line with a table set in front of them. The only illumination came from two narrow windows. The fire had been lit earlier in the evening by the page, and the flames cast a warm glow on the otherwise inhospitable room. Gerardo beckoned to Aurelia to sit on the chair nearest to the fireplace. He turned his chair round to face her. Aurelia’s gold hair shone in the firelight and her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  ‘Are you well?’ Gerardo asked.

  ‘Yes, yes, I am well. And you?’ she replied.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And your trip… was it a success?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he replied with enthusiasm. ‘Deotisalvi is very pleased. We found the perfect stone for the tower, and I am rather proud to say that it was I who located it; so I have gone up in his estimation.’

  Gerardo recounted the tale
of their long, arduous journey, and of the conversations he had shared with the celebrated Capo Magister.

  ‘The great man was a bit reticent at first, reluctant to talk to me. But as the days went on, he began to trust me, I believe, and to respect my opinion a little more. I am so happy, Aurelia; this is the best thing that could have happened to me. It is what my grandfather wanted for me; and I have Berta to thank for that.’

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He saw Aurelia’s face fall.

  ‘I am pleased for you.’ she said curtly. Distressed and disappointed at the mention of her rival, she stood up. ‘I ought to leave, Gerardo. I expect you have things to do.’

  ‘Yes, I have an appointment this evening, it is true,’ he admitted. ‘But Aurelia, my dearest Aurelia,’ he stood and took her hands in his, ‘I want you to know that nothing has changed. I still feel the same way about you, but I need you to understand that Berta is my patron and I owe a duty to her. You do understand, don’t you?’

  Guilt began to bubble to the surface, and the happiness and sense of satisfaction he had felt about the success of his visit to Monte Pisano began to evaporate. What was the point of being a professional success when he was trapped in such a duplicitous personal situation? He had never meant to hurt Aurelia, but he could see that the more he tried to tell her that he cared for her, the more confused she became. He yearned to be able to tell her that he loved her, that he would never see Berta again. And yet he knew well that Berta held the key to his future and, much as he hated to admit it, he also found her fascinating, bewitching even.

  Aurelia could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away. She had hoped Gerardo would feel as she did: that he would be willing to give Berta up. Humiliated and feeling slightly foolish, she pulled her hands away from him and walked quickly to the ladder leading downstairs.

  ‘I must go now, Gerardo; I must visit my mother. I wish you well. I am sure you will be a great success.’

  And before he could remonstrate with her, she was gone.

  She ran all the way to her mother’s house. Alarmed by the violent knocking, Violetta was surprised to see her daughter sobbing wildly when she opened the door.

  ‘Darling child, what is the matter?’

  She brought Aurelia indoors and sat her down near the fire. She took her cloak and hung it behind the door. Gently, she placed a little rug around her shoulders and gave her a cup of chamomile tea to drink. Finally, as the girl calmed herself, she told her mother about her secret love for Gerardo.

  ‘Cara, I don’t know what to say,’ her mother stroked Aurelia’s tear-stained cheek. ‘It is such a difficult situation. Let us consider it calmly. You love Gerardo and you believe him when he says that he loves you. But Berta loves him too and you know that he spends time with her. Do you not think it possible that they are actually lovers?’ Aurelia’s face went pale. ‘And remember, my darling, how alone in the world he must feel. He lost his parents as a child – and now his own dear grandfather, to whom I made a solemn promise to look after his Gerardo. So, perhaps the best way for me, and for you, to help keep that promise is to allow your Gerardo to spend at least some time with Berta. It’s surely what his grandfather would have wished, at least for the sake of the boy’s career.’

  ‘I know, you’re probably right,’ wailed Aurelia, pacing angrily across her mother’s kitchen. ‘But mamma, it is not fair. I love him, he loves me and we want to be together. And she is so old, mamma, too old for him,’ she pleaded. ‘He can’t really love her; I think he believes he owes her something – for helping him with the job at San Nicola. Why can’t he tell her that he really loves me? She’d be upset, but she’d get over it.’

  Violetta grabbed her daughter firmly by the shoulders. ‘Don’t you know Berta at all, child? She is not the kind of person who would let go of someone so easily.’ She paused, uncertain whether to continue, ‘and there is something else you should know, Aurelia. You may not want to hear it, but it’s important.’

  Aurelia studied her mother’s face anxiously.

  ‘My darling… Berta is with child, and if what you say about their relationship is true, the child may well be Gerardo’s.’

  Aurelia fell to her knees on the stone floor of the kitchen, screaming and tearing at her clothes. Her mother helped the sobbing child to her feet, and half carried her to a little bed in the corner of the room. She covered her with the blanket made of rabbit fur, which Aurelia had slept under as a little child, and held a tisane of chamomile to the girl’s lips.

  ‘There, there, darling… just drink this. We’ll work out what to do – you’ll see.’

  Her mother’s soothing words, the hot drink, the feel of the fur beneath her fingers, calmed the girl, and within a few moments she was asleep.

  Distressed by Aurelia’s sudden departure, Gerardo sat for over an hour staring into the fire. The maid came upstairs and asked if he wanted supper, but he waved her away. He realised, perhaps for the first time, how much Aurelia loved him. He had been stupid… blind to her feelings… and he cared for her too… very much. He remembered the way she had helped him when his grandfather had died. Her selflessness then had impressed him so much. Perhaps, this evening, he should make a bad situation better and tell Berta that their relationship must come to an end. The idea of such an exchange filled him with anxiety. It wasn’t so much for the harm it might do him professionally, which was less of a worry now that Deotisalvi had seen him at work and appeared to be convinced, at last, of his worthiness to be his new lapicida. No, it was more a sense of unease about the emotional turmoil that would ensue if he deserted Berta now. She would be angry – he knew her well enough now to know that was inevitable. Furious, in a jealous rage even. There would also, of course, be despair. For he knew, in his heart, that she loved him desperately. She had told him as much when they had spent those long nights together.

  ‘I have never known such love as I have with you. You have made my life complete,’ she had said.

  Wretched with indecision, Gerardo changed out of his work clothes, put on a clean tunic and cloak, and headed along the narrow streets to the Piazza. The sun had set, and a new moon was making its slow climb across the sky as he arrived at Berta’s apartment. He had spotted her as he entered the square, standing on the loggia outside her bedchamber, gazing at the Duomo, wearing a velvet cape edged with fur. As he was shown into her bedchamber, she came towards him, her hands outstretched.

  ‘Gerardo – you are here at last. How wonderful to see you.’

  She kissed him on both cheeks, and held his face in her long elegant fingers.

  ‘What do you think of my new apartment? Isn’t it beautiful?’

  He smiled and nodded. ‘It is certainly… and what a view.’

  Gerardo stood on the loggia and admired the Duomo and Baptistery. Berta joined him, slipping her arm through his.

  ‘These are your buildings, Gerardo; they belong to you and all the other talented men who have helped to create them. They look wonderful from up here, don’t they? We must go in and eat.’

  Berta shepherded him to the table. ‘Now, come and sit down here and have a little wine. I have some news for you.’

  Obediently, he sat on a low seat set into the embrasure of the window, with Berta by his side. She placed his hand in hers.

  ‘Gerardo, something wonderful has happened while you have been away on your travels. You know that I have never had children. It was a great sadness to me and Lorenzo, something that we hoped might happen for many years. I tried many remedies over the years: I saw doctors, I prayed to San Nicola for his intervention, and latterly I sought help from Violetta, the apothecary, but nothing seemed to work.’

  Gerardo had a creeping sense of unease.

  ‘But now, darling, something remarkable has happened. I am to have a child.’

  Berta placed his hand on her belly. ‘Here, feel it swelling, growing, beneath your hand… can you feel it?’

  Gerar
do took a deep breath. ‘Berta, that is remarkable. You must be very pleased. It is a gift from God – and of course from your husband before he died.’

  ‘A gift from God… yes… that is what Violetta said too. But not perhaps from Lorenzo. It is very possible, Gerardo, that this is your child, darling, our child.’

  Gerardo pulled his hand away.

  ‘You are displeased?’

  ‘No, no, not at all. I am just surprised. It is so unexpected, you know?’

  Any thought he might have had of telling her that their relationship must cease… evaporated. He felt a rising sense of panic; he stood up, awkwardly, and went out onto the loggia, staring out at the Duomo. Berta followed him.

  ‘What is it that you would like me to do for you, Berta?’ he asked hesitantly.

  ‘There is nothing that I want from you, Gerardo, nothing at all. Except for your love.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘What should I want?’ she asked kindly.

  ‘I thought… perhaps… you might want to marry?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘I do not think that is necessary, do you? As you say, the child may well be Lorenzo’s. I am a widow, with a husband not yet cold in his grave, and I am to have a child. There is no shame in that. But to have your love, Gerardo, that is all I seek, that and your companionship. And then, if we decide to marry, it will be because we wish to… because you wish to marry me.’

  And Gerardo, turning back from the Duomo, took her in his arms and kissed her with a passion that had more to do with gratitude and a sense of relief than love.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  November 1171

  In the weeks that followed Berta’s revelation of her pregnancy to Gerardo, she was more content than at any other time in her life. Her new apartment was beautiful and comfortable. Her household was manageable and affordable. There were still debts to be dealt with, but Massoud proved an able negotiator, managing to dispose of cargo, goods and vessels – getting high prices which more than covered the outstanding losses. She spent her days organising her new home, and her evenings sketching and designing. When he had time, Gerardo would come to her, and they made love without guilt or complications. She asked little of him and he grew to love her for it. But above all else, the years of longing for a child were finally over; and whilst she felt a little trepidation at what might lie ahead, she began to understand the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that bringing a child into the world could provide. It was, she realised, the ultimate creation – and as her belly grew, so too did her sense of purpose.