Chiara – Revenge and Triumph

by Gian Bordin

  "When the time comes, I will think ‘I’, and I guess Ser Stachos, my little engraver in Borgo dei Greci, knows Greek, although I promised him that he will never see me again."

  She searched Orlando’s eyes for a while, pondering an idea that had just risen in my mind. Should she ask him to get involved beyond being merely a bystander? Could she trust him? She decided to risk it. "If the original letters were carried by a representative of Casa Alberti and submitted for scrutiny to Sanguanero by him, that would be even more convincing. Even the letter by the Alexandrian merchant could then be an original rather than a copy. In fact, being accompanied by such a person would give the whole affair considerable credibility."

  He met her gaze, raising his eyebrows. "Did you have me in mind?"

  "Yes, I have. I think you could easily carry it off. You have the right age; you look distinguished when dressed up, and you possess the language and the acting skills to do it, and I also think you would only have to be present at the beginning and maybe also to take possession of their letter of credit for their share. I would be willing to give you a cut."

  He hesitated for a moment. She was glad that he did not answer without thinking it over carefully. Finally, he nodded, saying: "Yes, I trust myself to do this. But you also need to forge the seals and that isn’t that easy."

  "All arranged. Ser Stachos has done a fine job."

  Orlando shook his head. "I should have known that you would think about that… There’s only one other thing that may still give you away. A native of Naples talking in the Tuscan vernacular? Rather suspicious, don’t you think?"

  "I thought I would claim that my mother was from up here."

  "That’s a good idea, but even so, you would have picked up the southern vernacular from your father and the servants. Your manner of speech should occasionally have typically southern expressions and intonation. I could teach you."

  "Would you? Oh, Orlando, thank you. I’m confident that in a week or two I could pick up enough to pass as a southerner, at least to those who haven’t lived down there."

  Orlando immediately switched to talk to her in the southern vernacular, and she practiced imitating him. They laughed a lot.

  They also agreed that each one of them would write the final version of one of the letters to make sure that the handwriting was substantially different between the two.

  "And how do you plan to approach Casa Sanguanero?"

  "I thought that it might be best to have the first contact made through a marriage broker. I’ve the name of a highly respected house. You write a letter to them, singing both my praises and that of Casa Alberti, hinting at a dowry in the high thousands and dropping the name of Sanguanero as a possible prospect. If we then invite them for an official visit once we’re in Siena, the seeds of greed may already be sprouting."

  "Chiara, what a devious mind you’ve got!"

  "Yes, I’m sometimes horrified myself."

  "And you don’t even blush."

  "Should I? … But what do you think of this approach?"

  "Looks perfect."

  The last two tasks they did that day were to write the letter to the marriage broker to be sent off next day, and draft a letter by the Alexandrian merchant that listed the types and approximate quantities of various spices promised for delivery. The most difficult aspect was to find a suitable name for him. In the end they used a Greek, rather than an Arabic name.

  * * *

  Next morning, after depositing the letter to the marriage broker with her banking house which had a weekly mail service to Siena, she went to Via Burella, disguised as the priest. Ser Stachos blanched when he saw her and briefly turned as if he wanted to escape.

  "Ser Stachos, I know I promised that you would never see me again, and I regret having to break that promise. But be assured I don’t need any other seals made. What I need is somebody who can write a letter in Greek and I thought that you might be able to help me. As you know, I’m willing to pay well."

  The smile that had carved the wrinkles around his eyes returned and he seemed to breathe more easily.

  "What do you say, Ser Stachos?"

  "For you, I would be happy to oblige."

  "I hoped you would. It’s a pleasure dealing with you. Here is the letter, in the vernacular. When can you have it ready?"

  "By tomorrow."

  "Can you also imitate a seal that can easily be mistaken for being from an Alexandrian merchant?"

  "Yes, I think I might just have the right one."

  Chiara smiled and nodded. "How much?"

  "Is one florin too much, Padre?"

  She was amused that he had switched back to calling her ‘padre’— a good sign, she thought, as she retrieved her purse from the deep pockets of her cloak and put a florin on the counter. "Thank you, Ser Stachos. See you tomorrow."

  * * *

  Ten days later, after another private Sunday afternoon performance on a country estate in the hills three leagues south of Florence, they took to the road for Siena, stopping in San Casciano and Barberino to give one performance in each little town. In Poggi Bonsi they visited Antonia. Her eyes were moist with pleasure when she embraced Chiara and Alda.

  There they all changed their appearances. Chiara colored her hair black, plucked her eyebrows over the top of her nose and applied a powder to whiten the skin on her face and neck. A birthmark on her cheekbone below her left eye served as an eye catcher. The size of her breasts was swollen by wearing on her chest an ingenious halter in the shape of two half-globes, made of soft leather and filled with wool. It had been Alda’s handiwork. Her dress was befitting the young daughter of a rich merchant. The effect in the mirror pleased her. When Jacomo and Pepe saw her for the first time, both looked puzzled, and Pepe asked: "Signorina, are you looking for somebody? … Dio mio, is that you, Chiara?"

  "Yes and no. From now on, while we are in Siena, I’m Signorina Lucrezia, the daughter of the late Alberto Alberti de’ Morrone, a Naples merchant, come to Tuscany in search of a suitable husband, and you are my trusted servants."

  Orlando looked dashing in his breeches and jacket as the capable procurator of a merchant house. There was a confidence-inspiring air of distinction and professionalism about him. The other four wore the garments of servants. As Alda rightly pointed out, there was little need for a disguise since servants are hardly ever noticed, although Veronica was advised to show her pretty face as little as possible.

  As they took their farewells from Antonia, the old woman surprised Chiara again with a completely unexpected gesture. She pressed a soft velvet pouch into her hand, saying: "Here, take this. I have no further use for it, and you may need it for what you’re scheming."

  Chiara emptied the pouch into her open hand and revealed an exquisite gold cross, studded with small but brilliant diamonds. She was lost for words. "Antonia, how beautiful, but I can’t take this. This is too valuable." She tried to give it back, but the old woman pushed her hand away.

  "It’s too valuable for me, I agree, and too valuable to sell. I told my late husband so when he won it at a game of dice. And if I’m ever in need, I know that you’ll help me. So take it and use it."

  It was true, she needed a few valuable jewels and had wondered whether she could possibly borrow some in Siena. She kissed the old woman on both cheeks.

  "Thank you, Antonia, I will cherish it and think of you every time I wear it, and I give you my solemn promise that I will look after you."

  "And so will I," exclaimed Alda.

  * * *

  Late Thursday afternoon of the last week of August, they arrived at the mansion in Casato di sopra. After unloading the cart, Jacomo took the animals to the stable at the end of Via delle Cerchia.

  Friday, Orlando went to see the marriage broker and brought back promising news. First indications were that Niccolo Sanguanero was not disinclined to consider a possible marital union, provided the claims made about both the bride and Casa Alberti would be confirmed. He also got the names of
all other seven families the broker had approached. Chiara was amused that Casa Salimbeni was the only one not on the list that she had compiled on her previous sojourn in Siena.

  Orlando, in his role as Antonio da Quaranta, sent out invitations to present Lucrezia Alberti de’ Morrone at a reception in the late afternoon for the following Wednesday. Casa Salimbeni was the only name left off the list.

  Alda went in search of finding a woman to look after the house when they would be back in Florence and Chiara was the only one residing there. She found a couple in their fifties who lived in Borgo di Santa Maria, an area of cheap houses heavily depopulated by the plague. She felt good about them, trusting that they would be reliable and discreet. Chiara paid them three months wages in advance. Rather than living in, they would return to their own home every evening before curfew.

  The whole troupe worked for two days to prepare a wide choice of delicacies and tidbits and a selection of beverages to regale the guests.

  Wednesday arrived and the nervous anticipation, laced with anxiety, began to tell. They tried to encourage each other with smiles, but it was easy to see that each one worried whether they would be able to pull it off or be promptly shown up as frauds. Chiara also wondered how many of the invited heads of families would make an appearance. Only four of the seven had accepted, including Niccolo Sanguanero.

  Chiara had blackened her hair anew and powered her face and neck carefully. Alda outdid herself in transforming her into a fashionable young lady. She thinned her eyebrows some more, colored them black, waxed her eyelashes to make them look longer, applied rouge to her lips and carefully painted the distinctive shape of her birthmark on her left cheekbone. Then she helped her into the dark red taffeta underdress, with its richly embroidered neckline revealing the top of the cleavage formed by pushing her own breasts up with a breast band. The tight fit of the underdress showed off the voluptuous curves of her artificial bosom. Next she did her hair, arranging the false plaits to hug the side of her head, hiding her ears, and tied the red and gold silk headband under her chin. Finally, she donned a black surcoat with gold threads, split at the side to reveal the underdress and open at the front to her waist. The material had cost a fortune.

  "Chiara, you are beautiful," cried Veronica as Alda finished her magic.

  Yes, Chiara had to agree. The young woman looking back was a stunning stranger with an aristocratic face. It gave her much needed confidence. Would she be able to repeat this transformation on her own in the future when Alda would not be with her?

  "And now to crown it off, put on Antonia’s cross," exclaimed Alda, winking with pleasure. "I’ll place it such that it emphasizes the hollow between your breasts." She squeezed one globe teasingly. Chiara felt no more than a bit of pressure. "Yes, they’ll fool anybody."

  In fact, whenever Chiara’s gaze fell down to her chest, the ample size of her bosom looked strange.

  Half an hour later, she and Orlando were standing in the middle of the hall, awaiting the arrival of their first guests, while Alda hovered in the background, ready to offer refreshments. The servant woman Alda had hired helped Veronica in the kitchen. Jacomo had the task of ushering the arrivals into the hall.

  Rinaldo Salvani, his chubby wife, and their youngest son, rather than their oldest one, the one she had expected — Chiara guessed that he was not yet twenty — were the first to be announced by Jacomo. He did it flawlessly. Orlando introduced himself and then Chiara. There was little doubt that both the older and the young Salvani were completely taken by Chiara who curtsied and smiled, modestly avoiding looking at the son. Having done his homework, Orlando immediately engaged Signor Salvani on matters of commerce, while Chiara mainly listened to Signora Salvani who told her about her many ailments, aggravated by the unusual summer heat. The matron marveled at the delicacies Alda offered, signaling to the attentive servant for seconds and thirds. On the other hand, Signor Salvani only accepted a drink from Pepe.

  An elder of Casa Piccolomini — one of those who had not responded to the invitation — accompanied by a son in his late thirties, were the next to arrive. Observing the sullen expression in the younger Piccolomini, Chiara could easily see why this man was still single. He did not convey the impression of being the marrying type.

  By the time Niccolo Sanguanero made his entrance in the company of his brother-in-law, Filippo Baglione da Camerino, one of the noble branches of the Baglione families, and Lucia, Niccolo’s sister, all but one of the people invited had arrived and one had already departed.

  This is the test, went through Chiara’s mind. Although several of the other visitors had seen her perform, none really knew her. She noticed that a brief frown clouded his face when he recognized his presumed competitors. A good sign.

  As Orlando introduced her, she braced herself to keep her hatred out of her eyes and put on her most charming smile. She only bowed slightly to him and endured his searching glance that undressed her, while she shook hands with Lucia, pleasantly surprised by the firmness of her handshake. She also noticed that he studied Antonia’s diamond studded cross carefully.

  "Lady Lucrezia," Niccolo addressed her, "it is a privilege to meet such a charming young woman." His silly grin spoiled the effect. "I’m obviously utterly curious to know why Casa Alberti is seeking a liaison in Tuscany rather than in Naples. Is it because the Tuscan men are more handsome?"

  "Or more wealthy … or more astute in commerce?" Chiara responded with a smile, practicing her southern accent. "Or possibly all three? How could an innocent girl like me judge? You tell me, Signore."

  "You may be innocent —"

  She noticed his eyes darting to her bosom and interrupted him, standing more upright and pointing her breasts toward him: "Signore, you doubt my innocence?"

  "How could I even dare such a thing? But you certainly are not lost for words, Signorina."

  "Is this not the only means a woman has to match her husband?" She chose the word ‘husband’ purposely, and forced herself to blush, thinking of being kissed by her sailor. He noticed it and grinned.

  "Signorina, are you really only nineteen, as the letter said. You seem far too clever for that."

  "Esteemed Signore, you do not expect that I would reveal such secrets in public. You may have to wait a bit longer to know."

  This time his laugh was genuine. "Signorina, you are a delight. I hope to get to know you better. And now may I have your permission to have a serious talk with Messer da Quaranta?" With a parting glance at her bosom, he turned to Orlando, and they began talking commerce.

  Chiara was now alone, face to face with Lucia.

  "Lady Lucia, I admire your beautiful necklace." Although it’s mine.

  "Yes, I receive many compliments for it."

  "Is it a family heirloom, if I may be so bold to ask?"

  "Oh no. It was a present for my twentieth birthday from Niccolo. He brought it back from a trading trip to Spain. I was rather surprised. He usually is not that attentive."

  "Are you warning me against a liaison with your brother?"

  "Lady Lucrezia, do not misinterpret my words. I am sure he would offer you all the luxuries our house can afford. It is more that like all busy men he tends to forget about birthdays and anniversaries."

  "From the little I have seen, he seems to be quite sure of himself. If I dare say so, even taken by himself."

  "You are right, but then from the little I have seen of you, I think that you would be able to handle him quite nicely. Anyway, he is away for at least half the year, leaving you all the freedom you would want."

  Chiara began to warm to this young woman.

  "But tell me the answer to my brother’s questions which you sidestepped so cleverly."

  "Oh, it’s nothing secret. My mother, God bless her soul, came from Tuscany. That is why I’m fluent in your vernacular. It had always been her wish that I should marry into a distinguished family from up here, and I must admit I like this country. I can easily see myself bringing up my children in
Siena."

  "Yes, I prefer Siena to both Pisa and Florence. Naturally, I am biased since I was born here. But if I have to leave it even for a few days only, I cannot wait to return. It offers so much, not just spiritually, but also in the arts; we even have serious theater."

  "You like serious theater?"

  "Yes, I was introduced to it last spring when I was fortunate to see Terrence’s Phormio performed in the vernacular."

  Where, wondered Chiara? She had no recollection of any Sanguanero attending one of her performances of that play, or had it been at Tolomei’s second invitation?

  Lucia continued: "I would have loved to see it a second time. So much more entertaining than the boring religious plays. It is such a pity that not more of the classical plays have been translated."

  "I know Phormio. I read it in Latin. It has a clever plot, but it is the play of words that is most amusing. It may be lost in a translation."

  "Oh, it was not. At least that is what I recall, but I could not really judge. To my shame I have to admit that my Latin is not good enough to read it."

  "Was it performed by a local group?"

  "No, by a traveling troupe that stayed in Siena the whole winter and was highly sought after. I saw them twice. A blood-curling knife act. The best I have ever seen. I think they called themselves I Magnifici."

  "I Magnifici! What a coincidence! I saw them present the Greek tragedy Electra in Florence. Marvelous acting and no masks."

  "Yes, they are really special. I hope they will soon return to Siena."

  They already have.

  "I recently learned that the actress who played the lead role had also done the translation of Phormio from the Latin. She is a remarkable woman and so young for being so talented. In fact, you resemble her a bit, the same eyes, the same high forehead, but her skin was darker, and curiously her brown hair had a strong red sheen."

  Chiara suppressed the mild flutter of nerves. "Yes, now that you mention it, I can recognize a resemblance," she mused, adding: "I also admire serious theater. So we have something in common."