‘That can’t be true' she said, 'where are you going with this?’ Dondo and Grizelda also looked to one another in wonderment.
‘So much so - the Dean himself tells me’ continued Bianca with a lofty tone, ‘that several enquiries have been made about you.’
‘What do you mean by enquiries?’ said Illawara with a furrowed brow, but the mistress raised her hand to silence her.
‘I’ve had several enquiries as to your status for marriage.' Illawara gasped, but Dondo and Grizelda seemed less surprised, and both looked down at their shoes as the woman carried on. ‘Don't look so surprised' said Bianca with a waft of her hand. 'It's natural that a girl as graceful as yourself should have enquiries made about her, why the birds would not build their nests if it were not so.' Illawara rubbed at her eyes and face as if she had just woken from a nightmare. 'Naturally, as manners dictate, I’ve refused the first gifts of potential suitors, and I’ve been a staunch defender of your modesty.' Illawara could not believe what she was hearing, while Grizelda took on an expression of disgust. 'I have proclaimed to all her strength of character, but with the situation as it is - with my son and brother jail - I see no other choice but to accept some of these gifts and kind offers.'
The mistress fanned at herself again, as if it were a sunny day, but Illawara gripped the tablecloth till her knuckles whitened, as her eyes trembled and started to well up:
‘You would have me paraded around like some exotic creature, and have men pay service to see me?’ Bianca avoided Illawara’s wide stare.
‘You’ll not be paraded around; besides they’ve already seen you, and word is out. We’ll go to church as normal, and see who’s about.' Grizelda and Dondo exchanged looks with each other for it seemed to them that Bianca was a Venetian after all. 'I’ll make arrangements, and then allow the right sort of suitors to sit a while with you.'
Illawara threw her hands into the air.
‘This is too much’ she said, and paused, her mind racing what's happening to me? It’s all gone too far she thought. She could not sit still, ‘this is, this is…’ she said aloud, her expression vexed in the extreme. But Dondo shook his head and waved his arm to try and calm her down. Bianca narrowed her eyes.
‘Then what else do you propose we do?’ said Bianca, deadpan, scrutinising her protégé, ‘are you not saddened by my son AND Hermes' plight? Don’t you want to help?’
‘Of course, I do’ she said clasping her hand to her forehead, ‘but can’t we do something else? SELL something else?’
‘Sell what?’ Spat Grizelda, ‘you’re wearing all the wealth she has.' Illawara’s lips tensed as she looked down at the fine dress she wore, and tried not to cry.
‘This is awful’ Illawara mumbled to herself.
‘Bianca’s right’ said Dondo moving forward to put a warm hand on Illawara’s shoulder, ‘Paduan men are wealthy and generous. We could easily raise funds just with audiences and gifts alone.' She shrugged him off.
‘Oh, how wonderful' she said deadpan, 'but don't you think that they will want more? Do you think men will pay just to hear me talk?'
'You'd be surprised'
'So, let's go for more then, and sell my virginity to the highest bidder!' She exclaimed no longer able to hold back her emotions.
‘Oh, shut up’ said Grizelda like a scowling ally cat, ‘you should be grateful she doesn’t throw you out into the street to beg.' Bianca raised a hand to silence Grizelda, but the maid ignored her mistress. ‘You sit there sipping tea, eating our food - sighing - and looking out the window like some princess in a tower: while we work to keep you.’ The maid gestured to herself and Dondo, ‘and my mistress gives her finest clothes for you to wear at church: yet you make out it’s all done just to sell your body to the highest bidder.' Illawara glared at them all, as she shook all over, her face red, her wide eyes streaming.
‘What else would you call this then? What you're all asking me to do now?’ she said outraged, ‘don’t you think I understand what you all propose, and the things you suggest?’ she said, her breathing becoming rapid, ‘I’m no fool like you.' She declared pointing at Grizelda. The faces of mistress and maid then set like concrete. 'I have an education' Illawara continued, 'I’m too good for this!' she exclaimed banging her fists on the table. But the mistress’ eyes became pale blue slits as Illawara vented, ‘there must be another way?’ She shouted ‘you’re trying to make me half a WHORE.’ Bianca, like a tigress, slapped Illawara, as hard as she could, across her face. The clap rang out like the popping of a paper bag. Such was her speed the young woman did not see the swipe, except for a shadow and a flash behind her eyes, when Bianca’s stiff hand connected with her cheekbone. A stinging sensation came rushing to her face as Dondo and Grizelda looked on in silent shock. A figurine tumbled from its perch to smash on the floor. Bianca glared at Illawara unmoved, as Grizelda and Dondo stood back: neither had seen Bianca so angry.
‘Don’t you EVER use that word in my house’ she said implacable. Dondo wanted to reach over to hug Illawara who had stiffened without breathing; as a dark red hand-shaped welt rose to her cheek, her mouth trembling agape before she burst into tears.
It was the first strike in Illawara's life. But Bianca had not finished. ‘My son, my SON: do you hear me?’ She hissed with vitriol burning in her blood, ‘my CHILD more precious to me than all the stars in heaven: is in jail with your friend, that Saracen, who has tempted and seduced him.' Dondo and Grizelda looked at each other with doubtful expressions but did not dare to intervene, as Bianca’s voice towered in the room. ‘My brother rots in the same jail with not a scudi to his name, and you think I should leave them there to fester, with the vagabonds and murderers, and not do my best to help?’
Illawara had lost control of herself, swept away with her tears, and it was several moments before she could, only just, manage to speak between sobs and heaves.
‘You, you said… That, that, I was your daughter’ she cried, ‘you don’t care about me at all. You lied to me’ she proclaimed like a child betrayed, and the young woman broke down again distraught at the situation she found herself in. Bianca and Grizelda seemed implacable, but Dondo felt his heart wrench: for he had grown fond of the wretched girl.
‘I am a woman of FAITH’ said Bianca as if she were in the pulpit of San Anthony’s, ‘and it’s as clear as day to me what the remedy is. How dare you suggest that I sell even a single part of you like I were some Venetian peddler' fizzed Bianca. 'Educated or not, your muddled mind has leapt to conclusions, you constantly speak against scripture like some learned philosopher, but you don’t understand that a flower once plucked loses half its value' she added with a gesture of exasperation that the girl did not know such a thing. ‘Have I not told you a hundred times, that your chastity is the most valuable thing you have? But you will do as you’re told.’ She then pointed at Illawara. ‘I say you’ll receive gifts from suitors, no more no less, the promise of you is enough, and we then use those gifts to raise funds to get Antonio, my brother, and even that seducer friend of yours out of jail: what else do you suggest we do?’
Illawara thought that Bianca was mistaken about Hermes, her son, and the whole situation, but she could not come up with am an alternative or cohesive response, let alone tell the truth, and the others, unaware of her real situation, seemed resigned to Bianca’s logical conclusion. Her options were none.
‘Won’t they want more than just to talk?’ She croaked, between sniffles, as she patted at her face with care, and felt her teeth with her tongue.
Dondo stepped forward again, struggling not to show emotion as he gazed at Illawara, who looked as if she had not a friend in the world.
‘We’ll always be with you’ he said, ‘you’ll not be alone.' Dondo turned toward Bianca, and she nodded before he turned back to Illawara, ‘I’ll meet the suitors and check that they’re genuine, and earnest and Bianca will sit with you as your suitors pay grace.' A loud huff emerged from the maid:
‘What am I to do
then?’ declared Grizelda with her arms crossed.
‘You will be hospitable and bring whatever is required’ said Bianca. Grizelda glared at Illawara through scrunched brows, with her face tensed.
‘Why must I always wait on her?’ The maid protested.
‘Because your flower has long since faded’ said Bianca with a dry wave, and it was Grizelda’s turn to feel her eyes prickle with tears before she turned and fled the room.
‘She hates me’ said Illawara to Dondo, between coughs, as he rubbed her back.
‘It’s natural that she should envy you’ said Bianca, her voice somewhat softened, ‘any woman would.'
◆◆◆
With the passing days and coaching from the mistress, Illawara had proved herself to be an accomplished student and actress. With help, she mastered every stoop, bow, and gesture expected of a chaste beauty, in the eyes of the congregation, and it seemed to Illawara that Bianca’s knowledge of the role could not be exhausted. She would never forget the blow that Bianca had dealt her, and she since feared her anger, but the harsh lesson had taught her the truth and difficulty that she and Hermes were in, and that their adventure together had come at a price. She thought of Hermes every day - and her guilt gnawed at her insides like a worm. Conversations in Bianca’s household revealed to Illawara the realities of a young woman, like her, in her situation with no father or protector: these truths, in her haste, she had overlooked in her journey - back in time. On occasion, she envisioned Orsini, and their dance together, when she realised, then, with him at that moment, she had not a care in the world.
As the weeks advanced, she played out her part, improving in her craft, and let her suitors speak with her: be they tall, small, fine, fat, or thin, young or old, or in-between. They were ushered in by Dondo with a thumbs up or down behind the man’s back after he had entered. Bianca relished the occasion, playing her part to perfection. Illawara watched her mistress grow in her self-penned role as matron of all, motherly and protective of her ‘exotic’ niece, of no small fortune, so pious an good to accompany her ‘dear aunt’ in her time of need. Illawara learned to manufacture a doe-eyed wonder at every man that crossed her path as if she would never be worthy of an exalted husband. Her suitors lapped up the story whether they believed it or not, such the curiosity the women raised - more still were content to have their egos flattered, play along, and have their eye-full of the intriguing girl. The men of the town were rife with rivalry and gossip; each taking turns to extol Illawara's beauty and toy with elaborate schemes to woo her.
The mistress knew a good story when she heard one and was better still at leading the narrative of her own making. News of Illawara spread throughout Padua like the plague, and before long as many as five suitors per day were coming to look at her and bestow gifts: ‘as if she were Jesus’ Grizelda complained to Dondo in their private moments. Every evening Bianca and Dondo added up the proceeds of what they had gained in gifts, like shopkeepers with a bestseller, and tallied the required bribes for the Office of the Night, and court officials. Bianca communicated, via letter, with Giovanni who did his best to keep her informed.
As time passed, they made more progress, but they needed more money: for greed multiplied itself in the presence of bounty. The amounts quoted to have Antonio and Hermes released increased. Bianca, ever the businesswoman, showed an excellent flair for marketing: and reinvested some of the capital gained from the lonely, bored, foolish, or curious men, into buying lavish ornaments here and there to decorate her guest room further. As bribe negotiations continued, intricate enough to impress a Borgia Pope, Bianca visited artisans and merchants with Illawara or would send Dondo and Grizelda, when spared, to buy lavish new fabric to take to the dressmakers of Padua and Venice.
At their fittings, Bianca commissioned some of the best tailors to make spectacular gowns for herself and Illawara, which served to enhance their appearance yet further - in this aspect Illawara made no complaint. 'She'd make a rich woman feel poor' Grizelda muttered to Dondo when she saw Illawara return one day with a spectacular new dress. But the maid ground her teeth and carried on.
The mistress invested in produce too: for the suitors that came to visit. After Bianca gained credit with local confectioners, she would have Grizelda serve her new guest's sweetmeats, dates, cakes and other treats and fancies. Each innovation spread the word yet further. Men, of the right sort, would come to be waited on and entertained - and the gifts and the money began to accumulate. As soon as she could, Bianca had Illawara, and herself enthroned on newly upholstered chairs like a Princess and Dowager in the drawing room that started to groan with pomp.
The suitor's declarations of love and affection became more ardent, as the visible signs of wealth multiplied, and the pair would titter at some of the love poetry that the men showered upon Illawara - with even Bianca getting some of her own. At times both women would share the funniest, or most bizarre poems with tradespeople that came to deliver goods for the kitchen, or the new artists that Bianca employed to paint frescoes on the ceilings. Grizelda came to view the residence as a stage set with running play, and she, who could not read, would have Dondo recite some of the discarded love poems to her. 'Why does she laugh at that?' asked Grizelda when Dondo had finished reciting a poem to her that Illawara had found ridiculous, 'it was so sweet and full of feeling.' Dondo sighed, the mirth falling from his face, and put the poem away. No one ever wrote the maid any poetry, so when Dondo read her the discarded poems, she asked to keep her favourites. The love poems were given a home under Grizelda's pillow: their words, 'like lace' she declared and then would dream that one day someone would write sweet words just for her.
Bianca and Illawara, if not mother and daughter by blood, however, began to forge the kind of fondness and respect for each other like good allies in business. The pair started to bask and preen in the wealth and adulation of their enamoured audience.
But the household was too preoccupied to notice the hooded, pale, and ghost-like figure haunting the shadowed arches of the street, and that watched the residence day and night - and spied the visitors to and fro.
After some time, as wealth continued to build in the house, Grizelda complained that she and Dondo should also have better clothes. Bianca heard her complaint and agreed to Dondo having a new doublet made for him, embellished with gold thread, to better impress visitors when he offered them excellent wines, but Grizelda’s dress, although new, looked plain in comparison with the bejewelled splendour that Illawara and Bianca enjoyed.
Illawara’s, and to a lesser extent Bianca’s, fame had begun to spread beyond the city of Padua to Venice: and their grand arrivals at church had become a thing of anticipation. Donations were up, and some neglected services at St Anthony's had since filled to standing room only.
'One should not celebrate vanity' the Dean had whispered one day to a novice, as necks craned to see Illawara and Bianca sweep by, 'but with the eyes to see Illawara also come the ears to hear God. Truly, it is he they come for, so such a spectacle need not be frowned upon.' The novice gave thanks, and a sage nod at the wisdom offered him. He had heard such excuses proclaimed by every person senior to him and concluded that they enjoyed seeing Illawara and Bianca as much as he did.
So thus, such curiosities came to the ears of the Gondoliers, always ready to entertain their passengers with gossip, or a tune, and between them, they began to weave stories and sing songs about the ‘Great beauty of Padua.'
Chapter 10
The Pope's Man
Padua, early afternoon, Wednesday 22nd of November 1611
It had taken time for the Paduan arm of the Roman Inquisition to get themselves organised: the roads were becoming bad as the weather worsened with autumn storms, delaying letters, combined with local procrastination and confused orders from Rome. Gossip regarding ‘The Beauty in Blue’ whoes legend had grown into conflicting accounts, amongst the Florentines, as to her true whereabouts did not help matters. But as word spread amongst the P
aduan clergy, and lay people, of the threefold increase in donations to the Basilica of St Anthony, the noses of the Inquisition began to sniff the air. The chattering of many spoke with one voice about: ‘a great and pious beauty’ who attended even the most obscure of services. It did not take long for the thrifty local Inquisition, more used to banning books, to pay attention to an unexpected boost in revenue for The Church.
A stranger arrived amongst the rank of the local Inquisition, stationed, at a low profile, tucked away in a corner of the University city. Beppe Conti, a papal legate of middling rank who had made his recent journey up from Florence, ordered by the Pontiff, after his original progression from Rome. He arrived with a letter of introduction adorned with a Papal seal, and the creaking doors were flung wide for him before he entered.
His eyes scanned the groaning bookshelves of his colleagues with a look of revulsion. He found, to his dismay, that many of his Paduan counterparts were an amalgam of resentful, out-sourced, or mediocre clerics without the contacts or funds to procure better positions within The Church. It was evident to Beppe that they had to make do with being the perfunctory “eyes and ears” of the Pontiff amidst a sea of heretical pamphlets, denunciations, poetry, rebukes, polemics, bawdy tales, and radical scientific publications.
'We're librarians' lamented one cleric, after heaving another batch of suspect publications onto a table. The printing presses of Venice and Padua produced their words quicker than the Inquisition could read them. Beppe looked at the piled-up publications as if they were dung heaps. The clerics were tired and swamped but often entertained by their reading and some more than tempted by the evident delights of the secular world that surrounded them.
Beyond the Raging Flames Page 13
