Chiara – Revenge and Triumph

by Gian Bordin

  Chiara put the bible behind a tree and, flitting from tree to tree, sneaked up to the nearest horse. The rustle of the leaves and branches in the wind hid any sound of twigs breaking under her boots. She had no trouble removing a longbow and half a dozen arrows. To her right were several giant oak trunks that offered excellent cover. She put four of the arrows on the ground, inserted one into the bow, holding the other with her left hand so that she could shoot two in quick succession. Then she surveyed the clearing, only sticking out part of her hooded head from behind the trunk. The two fellows guarding the players offered the best targets. Why she aimed at the head of the man, she could not explain later, try as she might. But a second later, she heard the horrible gurgle of blood as the arrow stuck in his neck. The next arrow found the buttocks of the second guard just below his chain mail before he realized what was happening. He hollered like a madman, hopping around to see what was implanted in that soft part of his body. Anna and Maria screamed in terror, while Lorenzo looked around, bewildered.

  The other two robbers jumped up, shouting and drawing their swords. Before they managed to discover where the arrows had come from, Chiara was already behind another tree, again closer to the horses. She readied two more arrows and then thought of drawing the attention of the robbers away from where she hid. She picked up a rock and threw it way over to her right. It ricocheted off a trunk and landed at the far end of the clearing. The effect was exactly as she had hoped. The two robbers immediately turned toward the noise, offering her their backs. She stepped from behind the tree and let go of the two arrows, aiming again at their buttocks below their mails. Only one found its target; the other landed too high and was stopped by the bandit’s mail, but he probably had enough of arrows coming out of nowhere and ran to the horses. So did Chiara. She rammed full force into the lad, taking him down. She was up faster and grabbed the reins of three of the shying horses. By then the last robber had jumped on one and galloped off. The only free horse cantered after him, while she kept a firm grip on the reins in her hand.

  The lad only took one look at her black, hooded shape, screamed as if he had seen Satan himself and ran into the forest. By then, Lorenzo, Giovanni, and Pepe were on top of the two with arrows in their bottoms.

  Chiara threw back her hood. Many years later, she would still relish the expression on the faces of the players, their mouths wide open.

  "Is this really you, Chiara?" Lorenzo uttered. "I thought you in jail?"

  "Do I look like a ghost?" she laughed.

  "Are you a ghost?" asked Pepe unsure.

  "Oh, Pepino," shouted Alda and came running to embrace her. "Chiara, how glad I am to see you," she repeated over and over, kissing her, and Chiara responded: "So am I, Alda, so am I."

  Alda took a step back and looked at her from head to toe. "This disguise suits you, but where did you get it?"

  "I seduced a nice, young priest."

  "Chiara, be serious!"

  "I did and walked out of prison. I even heard confession and absolved a girl from her sins."

  "How wicked!" Alda cried and embraced her again.

  And so it went on for a while. Carlo, who had been hit over the head by one of the bandits, regained his senses under Antonia’s care. She was the only one who said nothing, just occasionally shook her head.

  Chiara learned that the donkey cart had broken a wheel, and while they were fixing it by the fire, the robbers fell on them. And what did they do with the three captured fellows? One had bled to death. Chiara cried on Alda’s bosom when she saw it. Pepe dug a shallow grave for him. After retrieving all the players’ purses, as well as the ones of the bandits, they let the other two go in the morning, minus the arrows in their buttocks, when they themselves took to the road again, well armed this time with four longbows, two dozen arrows and four swords and daggers. One of the horses pulled the donkey cart, its wheel fixed; the donkey pulled the music box; Lorenzo and Pepe improvised lashings for one other horse to pull the third cart, and Chiara? She was mounted on what she judged was a high-spirited mare that would have given credit to the status of the daughter of a small seignior.

  Without the toil of pulling, they walked toward Lucca at a good pace. The first time they took a rest, Lorenzo asked Chiara: "Why didn’t you tell us about Sanguanero?"

  "Would you still have accepted me, had you known?"

  "Not likely."

  "So?" No longer answer was needed. "Besides, Antonia knew."

  His look questioned the old woman, and she nodded. "Beware, Lorenzo, she’s not a girl to trifle with," she added with a raucous laugh.

  Lorenzo sold two horses in Lucca. The feed would have been too costly, but Chiara wanted to keep her prize, which she put to good use.

  * * *

  Awash with money from the successful season in Pisa and the sale of the extra two horses — Pepe claimed that they were only about three years old after checking their teeth — the troupe lodged in a more comfortable inn, where the innkeeper boasted that there were definitely no fleas in the beds. Chiara shared a room with Antonia, each having her own bed, a nice change after the cramped quarters in Pisa, although she missed not being with Alda. They ate well and did not drink the cheapest wine anymore. Antonia told Chiara that they had never had it so good.

  Lorenzo spent money on new props and costumes and replaced a few that were beyond repair. He found a copy of the comedy Phormio by the Latin playwright Terence whose plays were again performed in their original Latin form for select audiences as commedia erudita.

  He handed it to her. "Here, let’s see if your Latin is as good as your word."

  She took the book which must have cost him a small fortune and held it protectively to her chest. She intended to read it next morning and then show him that her word was good.

  Lorenzo paid Chiara her share of the Pisa purse. Some of it went on suitable clothes, a nice new belt and shoes for around town, things she needed for her monthly bleeding, and she felt proud that it came out of her own earnings. She even found soap, although it was expensive, and she loved the renewed feeling of being clean from top to toe. It reminded her of the luxuries she had enjoyed as the lady of the castle.

  She accompanied Alda to mass, not from a need to worship but more because she liked the pomp and spectacle of the ritual, so much more grandiose than anything she had experienced on Elba. However, something that she could not define made her reluctant to go to confession.

  Most mornings she woke with a smile and a sense of eager anticipation of the coming day.

  "Why are you grinning?" Alda asked her more than once.

  "Because I’m so happy and I love you," she invariably answered and hugged the older woman. "You have become my mother."

  The first time she said it, Alda had tears in her eyes.

  Chiara, being an early riser, spent her spare time in the quiet early morning hours on translating Phormio, although it was slow going. Since Terence had written the play in verse form, this presented a major challenge. It took her a while before she mastered finding elegant forms that maintained the often amusing play on words, and she was pleased to discover this talent. She also transcribed some of their own comic skits.

  But most of all, she loved performing with Pepe. He had such mastery with the knives. She was convinced that his speed of delivery had increased. On her suggestion, Lorenzo let Carlo experiment with the act. So at the beginning of each session, Carlo did his lazzi of droll pantomime, begging her not to be the target, already crying in anticipation over her corpse, and then at the end offered her his cheek and sulked bitterly when she kissed Pepe instead. After that, she was given small walk-ons in their plays and improvised acrobatic acts with Carlo, where he chased her around the stage, while she jumped on chairs, the table, cartwheeling around him, flipping over him. Invariably at the end of the act, he would hide his head under her ample skirt. That always got the biggest cheers and laughs.

  After the meal on the evening of their first such show together, while
they all sat around the table discussing the day’s performance and enjoying a good drop of sweet wine, he pointed at her and declared loudly: "You people must all know that this young vixen cheated me out of my own spectacle."

  "What do you mean?" Chiara asked, echoed by Giovanni and Alda.

  "She was wearing breeches under her skirt, the cheat."

  Everybody laughed. Chiara blushed, but stuck her chin out defiantly.

  "Good on you," exclaimed Alda, patting her shoulder.

  "Did she really?" cried Giovanni. "And there I was already jealous and ready to challenge you."

  Later that evening, when Chiara sat alone in a dark corner of the court, as she liked to do, lost in her thoughts, Giovanni joined her.

  "Move over a bit," he urged and sat next to her, putting an arm over her shoulder. "Princess, you shouldn’t be alone," he whispered into her ear. "I’d love to give you company for the night."

  "I have company for the night," she replied, chuckling.

  "You know what I mean … company like only I can offer you." His mouth was almost touching her ear and he caressed her shoulder.

  "Giovanni, this tickles." She rubbed her ear, moving her head away a bit while turning to face him. "And what is it that only you can offer me?" she said laughing.

  "Would you really like to know?"

  "Giovanni, I always inspect the goods before I buy." She was beginning to enjoy this.

  "Princess, I’m eager to show you. Let’s go up to my room."

  "I prefer to see the goods in daytime. Candle light is often deceiving, and I could end up being cheated."

  "I promise I won’t cheat you, and candle light fits my mood much better, more romantic."

  "Is that mysterious thing, whatever it is, supposed to be romantic?"

  "Oh yes, princess. Have you never been kissed?"

  "Oh yes, just the other day, by that young priest in prison. He was sweet like you."

  "Chiara, you’re cruel. You’re teasing me."

  "I am, Giovanni. And you are trying to seduce an innocent maiden."

  "Princess, a young pretty maiden like you shouldn’t have to spend her nights alone."

  "Pretty maiden, I hear?"

  "Has nobody ever told you that you’re pretty? You’ve beautiful eyes and when you smile, like you do now, I melt. Princess, be my maiden. I’ll cherish you. You won’t regret it."

  He pulled her closer, his lips slightly open. Suddenly, his face became fuzzy and she saw the blonde sailor’s blue eyes and rugged features almost touching hers. Startled, she drew away, avoiding him: "Giovanni, I’ll be your maiden and you may be my knight, and I will let you cherish me … but only from afar."

  "How can you be so cruel to one who’s willing to kiss your feet?"

  "Good night, Giovanni," she said laughing, as she got up, "I wish you pleasant dreams."

  When she lay on the straw mattress, listening to Antonia’s noisy breathing, she could not shake off the image of the blonde sailor, his lips almost touching hers, wishing they would, the strange feeling it stirred in her body. What is happening to me? she wondered.

  * * *

  People flocked to their daily shows in ever larger numbers, and Lorenzo extended the Lucca season by an extra week. End of July they took to the road again. Montecatini, Pistioa, and Prato the next major stops before Florence, where Lorenzo intended to spend the better part of September and October. In Prato, Alda and Pepe wanted to spend some time with their daughter, Carla, and hopefully get to know their first grandchild.

  Before leaving Lucca, Chiara arranged for the bible and the valuable crucifix to be returned to the bishop’s palace in Pisa. She hoped that they would be reunited with the young priest. Alda insisted that they keep the cassock as a useful addition to their costumes.

  Rather than drum up an audience only in the village piazza, Chiara suggested that she ride ahead to advertise their show. Alda sewed a patchwork cover for the horse in irregular shapes and vivid colors. She practiced standing on the horse to shout her announcement. After a few times, she had developed enough skill and confidence to ride into small towns and villages while standing on the horse, doing a handstand, flipping back onto her feet, and parade around the square, heralding the imminent arrival of ‘I Magnifici’, the name she had given the troupe without consulting the others. Nobody questioned her choice and, within a few days, they all began referring to themselves as I Magnifici.

  Chiara even liked their occasional night spent in the open, although Antonia scoffed her. "Just wait until it gets cold and we’ll see how you like it then." But she did not let that spoil her enjoyment.

  8

  Florence, September 1347

  By the time we reached Florence in the middle of September — our progress had been delayed by our success on the road — the fame of I Magnifici, as we now called ourselves, had already spread to that illustrious city. Within the first week, Lorenzo received an invitation for a performance at a private function at Casa Strozzi, one of the up-and-coming banking houses.

  "We have arrived," he exclaimed, "our fortune is made. We will be rich."

  "I have heard that before," Antonia muttered, "and each time the money went up in smoke before I could put my hands on it."

  "Antonia, you are such a pessimist," cried Alda.

  "Why not consult your cards?" I suggested. "Then we will know."

  "Child, the cards cannot be read for a group of people. The mystery only works for an individual. And why should I waste my time on you. You do not even believe in the cards."

  "Then do it for Anna. She believes and I will pay for it," I replied.

  "Yes, Antonia, do it for me," begged Anna.

  "Maybe after dinner. Let me think on it, and Chiara, if I do, I want those two denari."

  After the meal, the old woman ordered me to set up her little folding table. She ordered all candles to be extinguished, except for two on her table. The players crowded around, and she asked Anna to sit opposite her. I had never seen her, or anybody else for that matter, lay out the cards. Her eyes seemed black, reflecting the candles dancing like ominous fires. With every breath of hers, her aura of mystery deepened and slowly engulfed us all. I have to admit that it even affected me.

  She removed a large deck of cards from the ample folds of her surcoat and laid it into the middle of the table.

  "Anna … shuffle them," she murmured.

  Anna did as told. Her hands trembled. She put the deck face down into the center. Motionless, Antonia fixed her gaze on them for several seconds. Then she raised her eyes and said: "Cut!"

  Anna reached for the deck and closed her eyes, touching the width of the deck at several levels, and then cut it close to the top. Antonia placed the cut cards into the palm of her left hand and put the remaining stack on top, covering them with her right hand. She looked into the flame of the candle to her right, then the one to her left — I could have sworn that a light flared from her own eyes — and raised her face to the dark ceiling, slowly closing her eyes. Without looking, she dealt twenty-one cards, one in the center and ten in a left-hand circle, the other ten in a right-hand circle, the cards overlapping each other slightly and forming a perfect figure-eight. Only then did she open her eyes slowly. They did not look at the cards, but were focused directly on Anna. The latter seemed to shrink a little and crossed her arms over her chest as if she were seeking comfort.

  What a spectacle! I could not help admiring Antonia’s artistry in spite of my scepticism.

  The old woman again closed her eyes, while each hand moved seven times in a circle above the cards, meeting over the card in the center. Her eyes opened, this time fixed directly on the cards. She studied them for a while. Anna moved restlessly on her stool. I felt the tension affect the other players and was not immune to it. When Antonia finally spoke, I did not recognize her voice. It sounded hollow and seemed to be coming from afar. A shiver ran up my spine.

  It is not appropriate that I reveal to you Antonia’s divination
for Anna. In fact, I felt sorry for the young woman. There was an ominous overtone in it that made me apprehensive. But Anna seemed to be pleased by the prediction that she would die rich.

  After it was over, Lorenzo offered wine to everybody.

  "Chiara, why not have your cards read too," urged Alda. "Do it for fun. I would like to know. Antonia, will you do it even she doesn’t believe in it?"

  "I can try, but it may not work, you know."

  Although I felt a bit silly, I consented. Maybe it was the influence of the wine, or maybe it was curiosity. I took the seat opposite Antonia and shuffled the cards thoroughly. After I cut them, Antonia picked them up, but without any of her previous artistry and gestures.

  "Since you are skeptical, I will simply read what the cards tell, without trying to interpret them and without embellishments."

  She laid out the cards, eyes open, and looked briefly over them. "Here I see the sign of good health… There, these five cards signify that life will throw new challenges but that they will all be conquered. The hanged man here forewarns of great danger, possibly involving a big loss of wealth, but the cards do not say whether the danger is to you or whether you inflict it on somebody else. Possibly it could go either way." She paused for a moment, chuckling. "It seems that out of it will grow a great love, but whether it is for a man or a child is not clear."

  For a fleeting moment, the image of the blonde sailor came to me, but Antonia’s next remark chased it away.

  ‘And this is again the symbol of doom or death. The constellation of the cards surrounding it don’t say whether it is your own or somebody close to you. All they say is that it is imminent, not in the far future." Her eyes briefly locked with mine. It was like being touched by a bolt of lightning, disconcerting, chilling. "But then you have cheated death already more than once."