Chiara – Revenge and Triumph

by Gian Bordin

  "But a small price to gain my freedom."

  "Freedom? … Is freedom that important to you?"

  "Freedom has no price for me."

  "You are becoming more and more of an enigma. You are so forthcoming and open on personal things like what you just said, but cleverly deflect questions on trivial things like your age."

  "Signore, there is little point to beat about the bush when any intelligent person can easily deduce the answer, while it is good fun to tease them for their curiosity."

  "You really have an answer to everything… Lady Chiara, I am sorely tempted to neglect all my other guests for you." He winked. "It has been ages since I enjoyed the pleasure of sparring with a woman and never with one so remarkable and so young as you."

  Yes, I enjoyed that also. "Thank you, Signore. I feel honored."

  He took her right hand and kissed it. She was bemused by the surprised looks of the other people who had kept a polite distance, while at the same time not hiding their impatience for the host to dismiss her.

  * * *

  It was Thursday morning, before Chiara made it back to Siena. Her house keeper handed her a note from Lady Lucia — an invitation for a late afternoon meal on Wednesday, the day before. She immediately sent an apology, explaining that she had enjoyed the baths at Rapolano Terme so much that she had extended her stay there for a day longer. The male servant brought back a new invitation for the afternoon.

  She took again great care to match her Lucrezia look, the false bosom, the pale skin, the black thinned eyebrows, the long eyelashes, the distinct birth mark, and the elaborate black plaits, hiding her ears. While doing this, she practiced her southern accent.

  Lucia received her in the library, telling her that three of her married friends would join them for needle work. Chiara offered to help with hers, since she had left her own at Casato di sopra. Lucia expressed again how thrilled she was to have her as her sister and that she only regretted that it might still take more than half a year. A bit later, the other guests arrived and immediately settled down to their needle work, commenting on each other’s designs. Chiara sensed that she was in for a boring afternoon and that she would have to force herself to be pleasant.

  Initially the talk meandered through the latest Siena gossip; rumors that the wife on one of the wool merchants had received a male visitor just before curfew while her husband was out of town; which house had initiated marriage negotiations with whom; that the youngest son of Rinaldo Piccolomini was caught after curfew, armed with a sword.

  Teresa, pregnant at an advanced state but still in her teens, put down her needle work and reported that Gaetano Salimbeni had again been seen drunk lying outside a taverna on the Campo and had to be carried home by the servants of the house.

  "He was such a promising young man only a few months ago, studying seriously at the university, his mother told me," declared Elena, briefly looking up from her tapestry. She was the oldest of the women, in her early thirties, a permanent frown on her face.

  A well-endowed woman in her late twenties put down her frame and tore her round face into a grimace, eager to have her say. "My younger sister had her eyes on him. But now —"

  "Olivia, I hope you told her to forget about him. Who wants a drunk as a husband, especially one who starts that young," admonished Elena, her frown deepening.

  "I certainly know my duty as the oldest sister and married, Elena. Nobody ever had to remind me of that," she replied with a slight edge. "But you know how foolish young girls are."

  "Yes, they think that they can rescue a young man from himself."

  "Exactly, and they do not listen to wiser minds."

  "I wonder though what happened to him that he suddenly turned that way?" queried Lucia.

  "Rumors have it that it is over a girl," said Elena.

  "Does anybody know who?"

  "All I heard from my brother is her name. Chiara, I think. Apparently when Gaetano is drunk he sometimes mumbles her name and pleads with her ghost or whatever. I think she is a nobody, but of noble birth from somewhere in the contado."

  For a fleeting moment, Chiara felt guilty, but then shook it off, and continued undoing the few stitches she had just done before.

  "But why was she not good enough for his parents if she is of noble birth? For the youngest many parents are more accommodating, provided they even let him get married, no?" queried Teresa.

  "No, I think it did not come to that point. She turned him down —"

  "She turned him down?" exclaimed Olivia. "How dare she? She must have been out of her wits to turn down a prospect like that."

  Chiara spoke for the first time. "Maybe the girl was quite emancipated and knew what she wanted."

  All four looked at her, Elena frowning, Olivia and Teresa bewildered, Lucia with a faint smile.

  "What does emancipated mean?" questioned Teresa after a moment, while blushing at the same time.

  "Free and willing to make her own choices."

  "What woman is ever free to make her own choices?" muttered Elena.

  "Far too few, unfortunately."

  "But why would he start drinking, just because she turned him down?"

  "Maybe he was deeply in love with her," ventured Lucia again, "and cannot forget her."

  "Pah, what has love to do with marriage? The boy has no spine."

  "Anyway, it hardly mattered whether he loved her or not," Elena declared pompously. "What young man or girl of a respectable family is even given a choice of whom they will marry. It is all arranged by the fathers. My father told me after the contract had been signed. The servants knew more about it than I."

  "My father asked me." Lucia blushed. "I did not expect it, but he did, but then it was obvious that I was in love with Filippo, so he knew my answer before he asked."

  "My mother told me when they started negotiations," said Olivia. "At least it was somebody of my family who told me, not like for you, Lady Lucrezia. You even had to suffer the ignonomy of an employee of the family’s firm making all arrangements."

  Ignominy was on Chiara’s lips, when Lucia preempted her: "I think Lucrezia had quite a hand in the choice. She was even present at the signing of the contract. Am I right?" She looked at her questioningly.

  "Yes, Lucia. But then it was an easy choice to make."

  "You are very fortunate to marry into such an illustrious house," Elena said with her customary frown.

  The conversation turned to the latest fashion, longer and longer tippet at the sleeves replacing the drooping tabs at the elbows; halo-like headdresses that completely hid the hair. Chiara put down her work and went to inspect the books on the shelves — her father’s books. She discovered so many that had been her favorites and raged again inside, making an effort not to let it reach her eyes.

  Lucia joined her and asked: "Do you see another you would like?"

  "Oh, I want them all." It came out spontaneously before she could stop herself.

  Lucia put a hand on her shoulder. "Sister — may I call you sister — soon you will have them all."

  Chiara sighed. "Yes, I look forward to that." Alas, that won’t be.

  "Maybe we sometimes can read to each other. I would like that. And with your help, I may even learn to read Latin."

  "Yes, that would be good."

  "I guess that you will soon return to Naples, now that the contract has been signed."

  "Yes, I plan to leave with Messer da Quaranta, once everything has been settled with Casa Sanguanero."

  Lucia eyed her anxiously. "I thought everything has been settled."

  "Oh, don’t be alarmed. The contract has been signed, but Messer da Quaranta still has to uplift part of Casa Sanguanero’s share in a joint business venture."

  The frown gave way to a smile. "You got me worried for a moment." She paused and then added: "I wish I were as knowledgeable as you. You seem to understand so much about everything."

  "You are an intelligent woman. You can learn it too."

  "
I am not sure. I lack your confidence. But you have to promise that you will only leave for Naples after the big celebration we have planned to make your betrothal to Niccolo official."

  "And when will that be?"

  "Three weeks from Saturday. You must stay till then. It is in your honor. Niccolo promised that it will be a sumptuous affair."

  Should I? She intended to be back as the novice priest, so why not also as Lady Lucrezia? "How could I miss it, if it is in my honor."

  "Oh, Lucrezia, I am so happy to have you."

  When she left, Niccolo made it a point to come out of his office and bid her a pleasant evening. As he kissed her right hand, his eyes fell on her ring. "Ah, Lady Lucrezia, it pleases me that you wear my token of admiration for your beauty."

  She swallowed the sarcastic remark that immediately rose in her mind and instead gave him a charming smile, saying: "It is very precious to me," reflecting her true feeling for her mother’s diamond ring.

  Later, while walking back to Casato di sopra, she reflected on that afternoon. She had difficulties seeing herself as part of such a group of friends. They had little in common with her. Their ignorance disgusted her, their eagerness on gossip bored her, the quick superficial judgements appalled her. Was this the life that most married women led? But there must be more interesting women, like Lady Maria. Or were they the exception, and having them as a friend a rarity?

  She was again pained by what she was going to do to Lucia, so trusting, suddenly so dear. She had been the only one who had shown any sympathy and understanding toward the unfortunate Gaetano. And what about that young man? Was she to blame? No, she refused to accept the blame for his weakness, regardless of how deep his love for her was. It even strengthened her belief that she had done the right thing. All she could offer was regret that it threatened to destroy him.

  * * *

  As agreed, Orlando and Jacomo, the latter on a hired horse, arrived in Siena on the Thursday before the appointed day when Casa Sanguanero was scheduled to honor their pledge.

  All three of them would ride back to Florence together. Not that she did not trust Orlando, but ten thousand florins were a staggering sum and could even tempt an honest man. But there was always the real danger of being ambushed by robbers. Her frequent trips between these two cities could well have attracted unwanted attention, and Jacomo’s skill with bow and arrow, as well as his rapidly developing mastery with knives, would offer welcome added security.

  Saturday morning, Orlando took possession of a letter of credit of ten thousand florins on the merchant banking house Tolomei of Siena. She could feel the tremor in her hands as he gave her the unrolled scroll with a grave face. She could hardly believe that they had succeeded and had to reread the document twice to make sure that everything was in order, that it was not a forgery.

  Early afternoon they took the road to Florence. Chiara, in her clerical disguise, met up with the two men on the road to Castellina just beyond the hamlet of San Dalmazio, a league north of Siena. She and Orlando alternated changing horses, but their progress was slowed by Jacomo’s mount. After sixteen hours of on the road, regular rests, snacking on bread and dried sausages, and twice feeding grain to the horses, dawn offered the first glimpses of Florence. The rising sun greeted them as they passed the guards who were just opening Porta Romana.

  Chiara dragged herself up to her room, letting Veronica undress her. She was asleep before the girl had covered her with a soft blanket.

  17

  End of September 1349

  Since leaving Elba, I had learned a few of life’s truths. First, no more was I expecting God or the saints to fulfil my wishes or save me from disaster. Only my own efforts or chance would. That is why God gave us intelligence. Hence my need to stay in control and create my own luck. Second, all humans have weaknesses and succumb to temptations, and to my shame I must admit that I often used their failings to my own advantage. This was my weakness, the temptation that I succumbed to all too often. And third, life is full of coincidences, some good, some bad.

  I was going to learn a fourth lesson shortly, that it is in the nature of coincidences that there is no way to plan for them since one cannot predict them. Therefore, even the best laid plans may come to nought.

  Now that I had the money, at least on paper, I suddenly was at a loss of how to proceed. I knew that it was important to secure it without delay, transform it into different forms so that it could not be traced anymore. The Siena banking house could always cancel the letter of credit as long as it had not been cashed, and if Casa Sanguanero received any suspicious reports, they would immediately ask for that.

  Months ago, when I had hatched my plans, I had always seen myself carrying away a heavy case, with twenty thousand gold coins in it. And later, when I realized that the payment would be in the form of a letter of credit, I had thought to present it to a banking house in Florence in exchange for a few thousand coins and several letters of credit for smaller amounts issued on different banking houses in other cities, less the usual commission for such transactions.

  Would that still work? I Magnifici had performed to most of the leading merchant and banking houses in Florence. Both I and Orlando, as the lead actors of our serious plays, had become well known. We had mingled with the hosts, particularly in their summer retreats. I did not want to run the risk that at that crucial stage things started falling apart by either Orlando or I being recognized and denounced. My nerves started to fray. I had a sleepless night and then, like the slowly growing flame of a newly lit candle, the solution to my problem revealed itself. Why not make one of these banking houses my accomplice and I even knew which one — Casa Medici, whose head, Averardo di Bicci had taken a fancy to me.

  There were a few other loose ends to be tied down. I had not discovered a way to retrieve the little book of Latin poems from the cabinet in Niccolo’s office. And if I wanted to get back my land on Elba and keep it — I now always thought of it as my land again — I had to deprive Casa Sanguanero of the only irrefutable proof that my father had signed the deed from his own free will, namely their notary’s records of the document. It would then be their word against mine that they forged it.

  With our money safe and hidden behind the secrecy of the Medici banking house, I returned to Siena for the last time. The purpose was rather ironic — to celebrate my betrothal to Niccolo. I had not counted on the woman I had come to view as my friend and secret protector, Lady Maria d’Appiano, to be invited too.

  * * *

  Veronica roused her early afternoon to get ready for a knife-throwing display and a few skits to the girls of an orphanage that Alda had offered them as a free treat a while ago and had been unwilling to cancel. For the first time ever, Chiara’s grasp on a knife slipped and when she hurled it back to Pepe its arc was too short. Years later they still occasionally reminisced on this mishap and marveled at Pepe’s instant reaction. As the knife flew toward his feet, he jumped, and it embedded itself in the dirt, but neither he nor Chiara missed the rhythm, and the other knives continued on their course. Chiara had already substituted another knife into the gap. The children applauded wildly.

  On their way back to their house, Alda chided her. "You’re ruining yourself with your constant back and fro, and you’re putting my husband at risk."

  Pepe immediately came to her defense. "Oh, nothing happened and it’s just a good reminder not to become complacent."

  Chiara did not respond. She was close to tears. The incident had shaken her more than she thought.

  "Oh, look, Alda. You’re making her cry."

  He came next to Chiara and hugged her shoulder. "It’s all right, Chiara. Just don’t ask me to make this a regular part of our act."

  She smiled at him through wet eyes. "Thank you, Pepe, I promise I won’t. It was too scary… And Alda, it’s almost over."

  "Good, I look forward to having you back, back to a normal life."

  Orlando laughed. "How can you think that life in a traveling t
roupe is normal? The men and women behind those shuttered windows," his left hand made a sweeping half circle, "they lead a normal life, and I bet that isn’t your desire or else you wouldn’t be with us."

  "Oh, shut up, Orlando, even if you’re right. You know what I meant. I love Chiara and I worry about her scheming."

  "I love you too, mamina," Chiara murmured, fighting renewed tears.

  * * *

  That night Chiara tossed and turned on her mattress. Time and again she saw the knife veering off course. She could not shake off that image. Was Alda right? Was she overreaching herself? If not physically, then maybe emotionally? And which of the merchant banking houses should Orlando, alias da Quaranta, approach to convert a good portion of the letter of credit into coins and the rest into letters of credit of smaller amounts, more easily disposable? The Lamartini banking house in Naples or the Tolomei branch in that city would be the expected choices, but that was impossible. They would be unmasked as frauds right away. They could go to the Pisa branch of Lamartini, but she was loath to travel there. It was a solution of last resort.

  Would the Tolomei branch in Florence be another plausible possibility? But wouldn’t Amadeo Tolomei, its head, recognize both her and Orlando? They had talked with him at length after their performance of Electra. He had struck her then as a thoughtful, educated man. The risk was too great. She should have thought of that two months ago before she accepted his invitation. Go to another banking house? Only two or three of the smaller ones had not invited I Magnifici. And wouldn’t they wonder why they were chosen and become suspicious?

  All her well thought-out plans suddenly showed up full of holes. What had looked to be the simplest and most straightforward part of her scheme had turned into a thorny obstacle. Would this be her demise? Was Pisa the only reasonable solution? The round trip would take at least a week. They would have to cancel a scheduled performance, unless she postponed the trip by a week, and that had its own dangers. She felt that there was great urgency to use the credit, to make the funds safe from both Casa Sanguanero and the Tolomei banking house, to scatter them irretrievably, so to speak. Only then was this victory complete and hers. She also needed to go back to Siena. There were still a few loose ends to be tied, and she should visit with Lucia again.