by Debbie Rix
Aurelia replied to these letters, and her mother was encouraged to hear of the healthy life that she was living. Having been brought up on the farm herself, she could well imagine the wintry picnics in the woods that her daughter shared with her cousins, or the visits to Siena market. She was relieved that her daughter appeared to have taken to country life and, in her heart, hoped fervently that Aurelia had begun to forget the young lapicida.
But Aurelia could neither forget, nor completely excise all thoughts of Gerardo and Berta. Late at night, as she lay in her little bed in the eaves of the farmhouse, she imagined Gerardo lying in the arms of her mistress, and wept. And in the darkness just before the morning, if she awoke to the sound of the cockerel in the yard outside, she would wish with all her heart that Berta di Bernardo was dead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
December 1171
With Aurelia gone, Berta was at liberty to love Gerardo, free of any impediment, save the knowledge that their love would inevitably be cut short.
Gerardo was also relieved that little Aurelia had been sent away. For whilst he cared deeply for her, her departure spared him the torment of seeing her hurt and resentful face each time he visited Berta. And visit her he did. Each evening he washed and changed and walked over to her apartment to have supper with his lover. There were times when he left her in the morning, when she would wince in pain, and he would beg her to let him stay with her during the day to care for her.
But Berta insisted that Gerardo continue with his work at the tower of San Nicola.
‘I will be fine. It’s better that you go, so I can rest. I love to see you each evening. This is such precious time that we can have together, but you must work hard on the tower. I want Deotisalvi to see what a wonderful lapicida he has in you.’
Gerardo worked tirelessly at San Nicola, and by the middle of December, they had completed the first storey and were well advanced with the walls of the main part of the tower. Deotisalvi, though permanently bad-tempered, developed a grudging respect for his young lapicida.
Berta resolved that until Deotisalvi had agreed to her new designs for the campanile, she would keep her part in them a secret from her lover. If there were to be an argument between herself and the architect about the design of the tower, it would be awkward if Gerardo was caught in the middle, forced to choose between his lover and his employer. It would be hard enough persuading the architect to offer Gerardo the position as his assistant. The new campanile was considered the most prestigious architectural project since the Baptistery, and she had heard from the Operaio that Deotisalvi had insisted on total autonomy about the choice of his new team. He was concerned that the tower of San Nicola might suffer if both magister and lapicida moved on so soon to another job.
Berta, desperate both to persuade the old man to accept her design and also her lover as lapicida, requested a meeting with the Operaio. Before he arrived, she asked Maria to prepare her a bath. The water was scented with her favourite lavender and she smiled as the old woman poured water through her long hair.
‘It has been weeks, since I washed my hair – it feels so good, Maria.’
‘I’m not sure we should wash your hair, signora... with you being so ill.’
‘I must look my best for the Operaio,’ Berta said as she struggled to get out of the bath. She had lost a lot of weight in the last weeks and when Maria washed her back she could feel her ribs protruding through her pale skin.
Dressed in a dark red damask gown, she sat on one of a pair of high-backed leather chairs that had been placed by the window in her bedchamber.
* * *
‘Benetto,’ she said, as the Operaio kissed her hand and sat down opposite her. ‘You know that I intend to donate the money for the building of the new tower. But privately, you also know that it is with certain conditions. I want Deotisalvi to make the changes that I have suggested to the design.’
The Operaio nodded graciously.
‘Now, Bonanno has had them checked with a colleague of his at the school of architecture, and they are confident that the design will be feasible from the point of view of stability. The tower can withstand the unusual forces involved in my drawings. And, from an aesthetic point of view, you agree, I hope, that the new design is more impressive than Deotisalvi’s original.’
The Operaio nodded once more.
‘So if you, the Operaio, believe mine to be the better design, and there is no problem with its stability, the Magister must be persuaded to accept it.’ She was firm, but cajoling.
The Operaio shifted a little uneasily in his seat, imagining the impending confrontation with the great man. ‘Er, of course, signora. It may be difficult, but I will…’
‘I also want you to do something else,’ Berta interrupted, ‘something almost as dear to my heart as the tower itself. I want you to persuade Deotisalvi to take on Gerardo di Gerardo as his lapicida. As you probably know, Deotisalvi already thinks well of him. The old man can easily find someone to replace Gerardo on the San Nicola job, but I insist Gerardo is transferred to work on the campanile.’
Berta, who had struggled to find the strength for the meeting, sank back into her chair, and theatrically wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand.
‘Gentile signora, please do not distress yourself. I am sure we can arrange things to everyone’s satisfaction. If I may, I shall arrange a meeting with the Capo Magister and, if you allow, explain the situation to him in a way that he will understand. Now you must rest, signora; you look tired.’
And kissing her once more on the hand, he took his leave and sent word to Deotisalvi that he required a meeting the following day.
When the old man walked into the Operaio’s office, he was surprised to find several members of the Opera present, and with them, Bonanno Pisano.
‘What is he doing here?’ he asked rudely.
‘Maestro Deotisalvi, it is good to see you,’ said the Operaio soothingly. Signor Bonanno is here as a trusted friend and supporter of the work of the Opera. Do please sit down.’
The room contained six chairs arranged around a central table. Before Deotisalvi took his seat, he studied the plans that had been laid out; he bristled with irritation.
‘What is this? These are not my plans for the campanile. What upstart has dared to meddle with my design?’
The group was silent.
‘Was it him?’ He pointed at Bonanno.
‘He has been involved, yes.’
‘How and why?’
‘This will be the most important structure our city has built since the construction of your Baptistery, an architectural jewel admired by all,’ cooed the Operaio. ‘But, regarding the campanile… on reflection… the committee…’ he was beginning to hesitate now, ‘the committee no longer feels that your original design, although of a supreme elegance and graceful simplicity, quite reflects the glory of our great city, the glory that we wish should shine forth from this, our third and final masterpiece on the Piazza del Duomo. We have therefore conceived another design which is a slight emendation of your brilliant original concept of a galleried tower, but which simply adds further open galleries extending up the whole building. It’s a practical issue, Maestro, and thus no adverse reflection on your design. The committee felt we should have as many vantage points as possible for the notables of our great city to witness the grand civic spectacles we intend to mount in the Piazza, as well of course as to admire the beauty of its buildings, including your own masterpiece, the Baptistery.’
‘And you did this without consulting me!’ The Magister was not to be placated so easily. ‘And who did the new drawings, I’d like to know. Who has prepared the calculations?’
The group looked towards Bonanno Pisano.
‘What him, the sculptor! The bronze foundry man! You trusted him with this work?’
‘No, well not exactly,’ said the Operaio apologetically. ‘The design was the inspiration of several people, people who care desperately that it should b
e the crowning glory of our wonderful Piazza del Duomo. Maestro Bonanno was responsible for ensuring that the calculations were satisfactory. He has been working closely with the staff at the school of architecture here in Pisa.’
‘He did not see fit to come to me with these calculations then?’
‘Well, we felt it was important to ensure that the workings were correct before we spoke with you. Signor Deotisalvi, I realise that this is a little unorthodox, but I want to make something clear. This is the design that the City would like to proceed with. But it is you that we would like to employ to build the tower; you who will receive the glory and the very handsome fee that the city is able to offer. In that context, you should be aware that we have been made the recipients of a very generous bequest which has enabled us to get started on the project. But the bequest has been made on the condition that we proceed with this particular design.’
The room went silent.
‘I will not do it,’ Deotisalvi erupted. ‘I will not pass off someone else’s work as my own. It is not my design. Get Bonanno here to build it for you.’
He stood to leave.
‘Maestro, listen,’ pleaded Vernacci. ‘Are you telling us that you would pass up the opportunity to build the most spectacular tower that has ever been created for the sake of wounded pride?’
Deotisalvi considered. He sat down. Then he stood, and studied the drawings once again. ‘Where are the calculations?’
Bonanno hesitantly handed him several sheaves of paper, covered in figures.
‘These are not correct. I see several errors already. I shall work on them. Good God – why did you not come to me before wasting time with this? I shall prepare the calculations; and there may be one or two alterations. Design is not just a matter of drawing pretty pictures, you know; it is a deeply complex business of mathematics. And unless the calculations are perfect, the building cannot succeed.’
The Operaio bowed to the old man. ‘Signor Deotisalvi… we are once again in your debt.’
Later that evening, Vernacci visited Berta. She was seated in the high-backed chair, her back to the window, framed by a stunning vista of the Piazza. On the small table next to her lay the bag of coins that she had promised the Operaio.
‘Deotisalvi has agreed to the design, signora; he will make some adjustments to the calculations, but essentially it will be the design you have put forward.’
Berta reached across the table and pushed the bag of coins towards the Operaio..
‘Gentile signora… we are all most grateful, and are in your debt’.
‘What about Gerardo?’ Berta asked anxiously. ‘What did the old man say of him?’
‘One thing at a time, signora, one thing at a time. You must trust me in this.’
In the weeks that followed, the design was finalised, the calculations perfected and Deotisalvi, as is the way with some men, began to believe the design was in fact his own. But Berta fretted about Gerardo’s involvement. She had raised the subject with the Operaio on two occasions, but each time he had prevaricated. Deotisalvi, it seemed, had plans of his own. She tried to keep the issue a secret from her young lover when he came to her each evening, but one night, when pain had tormented her throughout the day, she broke down.
‘I cannot get that old man to agree to you working on the campanile. It is not fair. I have made it possible. It is my money they will be using. I have insisted. But he is stubborn. I hate that old man.’
Gerardo tried to soothe her. ‘Berta, you have done so much for me already, but perhaps you cannot make this happen. And maybe it is better that you cannot do so. I must win the position on my own merit, and not because you will it so. I hear Deotisalvi is asking for lapicida to present themselves to him and the Operaio. I shall apply with the others, and let us see if I can win this job for myself.’
Over the next few weeks, Berta helped Gerardo put his ideas together for the interview. He was amazed at the immense knowledge of architecture she displayed. Under her tutelage, he studied designs of other towers, and those of Deotisalvi’s Baptistery. She challenged him about technical issues to do with the build, quizzing him about foundations, soil structure, stonework and construction techniques. Finally, she was confident that he was as well prepared as he could ever be.
When the day came for him to meet with Deotisalvi and Vernacci, he left her bed, kissing her lightly on her forehead, and was gone before she woke.
She was out of bed when he returned that evening, sitting by the fire.
‘Well?’ she asked when he arrived.
‘I do not know. I think it went well enough, but they are seeing many others before making up their minds. I must just wait.’
The days of waiting turned into weeks, and still no word came from the Opera committee. Berta, weakened by her illness, could contain her anxiety no longer. She sent for the Operaio.
‘You must tell me Benetto… is Gerardo di Gerardo to be lapicida on the tower. I am ill, I may die at any time, and I must know.’
‘Signora, we have two more lapicida to meet tomorrow, and then we shall make our decision. I promise, we shall send word as soon as we have a final decision. It will not be long.’
Two days later, Gerardo returned home from work to wash and change. As he opened the door, the maid Fabricia motioned upstairs.
‘There is a gentleman waiting to see you.’
Fearful that it might be bad news of Berta, Gerardo bounded up the ladder.
Sitting in a chair by the window was Benetto Vernacci. He stood as Gerardo entered, smiling and holding his arms out to the young man.
‘My dear Gerardo,’ he said, embracing him, ‘I have some excellent news for you. You have been chosen, from amongst fifty highly qualified candidates, to be the lapicida and assistant to Deotisalvi on the new campanile. Congratulations.’
Before he left home that evening to visit Berta, Gerardo took down a box of jewellery that his mother had left to him. He took from the box a small ring his father had given her. It was made of pearls and rubies and she had worn it only on special occasions, fearful that she might lose a stone from the setting.
He bounded up the stairs to Berta’s bedchamber. She was sleeping when he entered. Violetta was seated next to her and she quickly stood up, putting her finger to her lips as he approached her.
‘Shhh… she is sleeping. She has been in terrible pain today, Gerardo. I will leave you with her, but please do not upset her.’
He sat next to Berta’s bed, holding her hand in his, and as she slept, he slipped the ring onto her finger. Watching her sleep, he was struck by how pale and thin she had become; her collarbone protruded sharply beneath the fine, translucent skin at her neck, the small gold cross nestling in the little hollow at the centre. He followed the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He sat in silence for what seemed an age. Finally she woke, her eyelashes fluttering as she focussed on the face of the man by her bed.
‘Caro, you are here.’
‘I am, cara. I am here, and I have good news. You are looking at the new lapicida on the campanile at the Piazza del Duomo.’
Laughing, she pulled him towards her with her thin arms and hugged him.
‘I am so proud of you, so proud. You have made me so happy.’
‘Marry me, Berta, marry me?’ And Gerardo kissed the ruby ring that he had placed on her finger.
Seeing the ring, she held her hand out and let it sparkle in the evening light.
‘How pretty, is it for me?’
‘It was my mother’s. My father gave it to her before he died.’
‘And now you give it to me before I die,’ she said.
‘Don’t say that, Berta, please. Marry me.’
‘No, Gerardo. We are not destined to be man and wife. I am not your destiny. There is someone else who will have that pleasure when I am gone. I have everything I want with me now. I need nothing else. You will be a wonderful lapicida, Gerardo; you will be written about in the history books. And you will marry…
to someone young who will give you children and make you happy… Aurelia perhaps?’
Gerardo blushed.
‘Ahh, so you do still care for her. That is good. For I am sure that she still cares for you. You have been so good to me, Gerardo, and I do not like to think of you left alone when I am gone. You may not love Aurelia as you love me, but I feel sure that with time you will love her with all your heart. You have such a great capacity for love Gerardo, and I know Aurelia will return that love. Give the ring to her, Gerardo. It is a ring for a wife, from a husband. I have had rings and have no need for them anymore.’
And kissing the ring, she handed it back to Gerardo, who closed his fingers tightly around it.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘there is something very important that needs to be done. I must make a will. Please send for Massoud. And Gerardo, stay with me. I would like you to be a witness.’
And so Massoud was sent for and dispatched to bring back three further witnesses, along with Benetto Vernacci, the Operaio, and the Lord Archbishop Villani. He arrived within the hour, bringing with him the notary of the Emperor Frederico, a man named Ugoni.
‘Signora, I hope you will allow that I have brought Ugo Belacto with me. He is an excellent man and I would like this important moment witnessed by someone who we might all consider impartial. I trust that is to your satisfaction.’
