Chiara – Revenge and Triumph

by Gian Bordin

  "Yes, Pepe, thank you. I’m beat and was counting on you."

  She put an arm over Alda’s shoulder, and they walked into the large ground floor kitchen.

  "Any food left, Alda? I’m starving."

  "I’ll reheat the minestrone we had for dinner." She quickly went into the cool pantry at the back of the kitchen and returned with a good size chicken leg, a round of cheese, and half a bread. "Here, start with this."

  While Chiara ate, they talked about Veronica, assuring each other that she will be fine. Pepe joined them and also had another bowl of soup.

  After the meal, they sat around a fire in the parlor. Chiara told about the trip and the time in Perugia. Then she asked: "Have you heard from Gianbucca about the house yet?"

  "Yes, we wanted to tell you," replied Pepe and Alda added: "He wants two hundred florins, quite a sum."

  "It is a good solid house," exclaimed Pepe.

  "True," acquiesced Chiara, "it probably would be worth that much if it were in Siena, maybe even in Monte Pulciano, but not out here in the contado, almost a league from the nearest little town."

  "But quite a bit of land comes with it."

  "Yes, and it has been neglected for decades. All these acres of scrub on the slope behind the house and the forest dense with undergrowth. Even the fields have not been plowed for years. I suggest we offer him 120. That’s a reasonable price. Look, with so many plots unused and likely to remain so for years to come, he won’t get much more than that. I’ll make him aware that if he has that money in the hand, he can make it work, whereas if we move out, he may get no return and the house will even lose value if it’s empty and neglected."

  Pepe scratched his head, frowning. "I don’t know. I don’t really understand all that."

  "Pepino, just trust her. She knows what she’s doing," interjected Alda, chuckling. "But Chiara, we want to pay for it."

  "Let’s go halves, then you don’t have to break your deposit with Casa Medici and still have enough to buy some tools to work the land and sheep and goats."

  "How do you know how much we have?"

  "Oh, that takes just a bit of adding up. Are you willing to go halves?"

  "Yes," she replied, nodding and so did Pepe. "It will be strange to suddenly be land owners."

  "Quite a change from our previous life, Alda," mused Pepe and she hugged him, kissing his cheek.

  The following day, all three rode to Monte Pulciano, Alda on the donkey. After returning the horse and buying a strong animal for Pepe, they looked up Alfonso Gianbucca. The three had more than enough cash left to cover the proposed purchase price without having to withdraw any from the agent of Casa Albizzi, the Florence merchant bankers where all three had invested some of their earnings.

  Gianbucca protested vigorously that 120 was well below the value of the land alone. She let her charm work on him, arguing the poor state of the property, the even worse prospects of finding another buyer, and the real benefits of putting the cash to profitable use right away, and made a pretty convincing case. Seeing the open purse containing 120 shiny gold coins, his eyes lit up. He made a counteroffer and they finally settled on 125 florins. Early afternoon, they took Gianbucca to the Palazzo Pubblico where they recorded the change of ownership and the vintner counted and recounted the gold coins in the purse Chiara handed to him.

  Back at Gianbucca’s house, they celebrated the transaction with a cup of wine. Chiara liked the drink and ended up buying a small wooden cask. It was loaded on the donkey, and Alda rode behind Chiara. By nightfall they were back in Castello Gianbucca, their own home now.

  25

  Castello Gianbucca, October 1350

  With both Jacomo and Veronica in Perugia to begin a new chapter in their turbulent life, and Alda, Pepe, and I the proud owners of Castello Gianbucca — we even liked its name and had no plans to change it — the time had come again to take up my fight for my inheritance. What drove me to renew that quest was a sense of duty toward my father’s former tenants, treated harshly and exploited cruelly by Niccolo and his men. But I would not fight. I would try all other means first, and the first was to launch a challenge that the document my father had signed, handing Elba over to Casa Sanguanero, was obtained under false pretenses and therefore not valid in law. I knew that Roman law did not recognize this line of argumentation, but I would try, and the best person to represent me on this quest was Professore Barbarigo, the eminent law scholar whose lectures I had attended for several months during our first stay in Siena, almost two years earlier.

  However, before starting out, I needed to confess to Alda and Pepe. I knew Alda would be very unhappy, that she would again fear for my life, that I was going to spoil her joy of finally being able to settle down to a quiet life. But what else could I do? Did I not owe it to my name of da Narni to assume responsibility toward my father’s tenants who were being squeezed and bludgeoned by Niccolo and his band of pirates?

  It was important for me that Alda and Pepe understood why I had to do this, if only for my own self-esteem. We had a long and frank talk about it and, in the end, Alda reluctantly gave me her blessing.

  Next, I set out in minute detail my case to Professore Barbarigo, carefully written in perfect Latin. I confessed that I had attended his lectures, disguised as a novice and asked for his indulgence. The letter ended with a plea that he submit my case to Count d’Appiano to be argued in a court of law. To my surprise, I received his reply within four days. He must have answered my letter the very instant he received it, since the courier service from Monte Pulciano to Siena takes two days in each direction, and the response was what I had hoped for. He was not only willing, but keen to represent me and argue my case, and hopefully set a precedent. To prepare it, he requested that I come to Siena, and bring my father’s copy of the document I was contesting.

  * * *

  "Why does life for you have to be one challenge after another?" lamented Alda. "Will you ever simply be a normal woman, have children and a real family life?"

  They were sitting on the bench in front of the house, taking in the precious rays of the weakening autumn sun, Alda in the middle.

  "You can hardly complain about that," muttered Pepe. "Look at your own life."

  "But I haven’t gone out and deliberately sought challenges. In fact, except for marrying you, I’ve always tried to avoid them."

  "And what about taking me in?" questioned Chiara with a smile. "Has that no been a constant challenge?"

  "But not one I sought out."

  "You could have dumped me and washed your hands off me."

  "But I love you. You became the daughter I always wished to have. Oh, I loved Carla dearly, but I couldn’t really share the life we led with her. She didn’t like it and grabbed the first opportunity to escape."

  Chiara’s smile intensified.

  "Don’t you laugh at me. I know that I contradict myself. I want you the way you are and at the same time I fear for you."

  Chiara moved closer and put an arm over her shoulder, hugging her. "I promise that this time I won’t do anything rash."

  "Oh, I know your promises. You give them in full sincerity and then things catch up with you and you’re in the thick of it."

  "But she also always gets away unscathed," said Pepe. "It has been like this almost from the first day. Remember how everybody thought she was crazy not to use the shield in front of her face for the knife act?"

  "That was nothing. I had full confidence in your skills."

  "And then the way she walked out of prison in Pisa … and how she dealt with those Baglione bandits on the Giogo di Scarperia, and —"

  "Yes, she has always been blessed with good luck, but it only takes one slip."

  "But that’s just it. She doesn’t slip. She always has something in reserve. I don’t think either of us would be alive were it not for her."

  "You two, don’t you get into a fight over me, please. I love you both and I promise that no matter what happens, we’ll stay together, be
a family of two odd parents, and a willfully incorrigible child and maybe sooner or later some equally wild grandchildren."

  "Grandchildren? Not the way you are going. I bet there’s no young woman in Tuscany right now who has turned down more prestigious prospective matches than you."

  "Actually, I’ve turned down only two, Niccolo and Gaetano."

  "And never gave another two dozen even a chance to make an offer… Are you still hankering after your sailor?"

  "To tell the truth, I haven’t thought about him for ages."

  "What sailor?" Pepe questioned.

  "Oh, it’s a hopeless, silly tale," replied Chiara.

  "The sailor who brought her water on the Santa Caterina, and this girl of noble birth was dreaming of him." She turned to Chiara. "Did you ever find out if he is a Casa Sanguanero slave?"

  "Yes, he was then and the last I heard was that Moro, the man who tried to kill me in the Sanguanero loggia, was training him as first mate for one of their ships. He may be first mate on the Santa Caterina now."

  "And helping Niccolo in his piracy."

  Chiara did not answer. Yes, that’s most likely, but then as a slave he doesn’t have much choice except escape and face death if caught. Her heart beat faster. Just thinking about him had still the same effect on her. Is that love? she wondered. When it came to love, she felt more of a novice than Veronica. That girl at least knew that she was in love.

  The memory of her sailor stayed with her until she fell asleep.

  * * *

  To be on the safe side, she again took up her clerical disguise for the trip to Siena, at her pace only a two-day ride with a stopover in Buon Convento. The guard at Siena’s Porta Romana greeted her with: "Padre, you just made it. God must favor you. A little bit later and you’d have to wait until sunrise tomorrow morning."

  "Dear man, God loves all just men. He doesn’t give favors. It’s my horse that I must thank."

  The guard laughed and shouted after her: "God be with you, Padre."

  She put up in the inn where I Magnifici had spent a few days almost two years earlier. It was clean and familiar and they served decent meals. Taking advantage of the hour of dusk, she strolled through town, joined the crowds entering Il Campo, checked on the progress made on the façade of the Duomo. Things looked prosperous. How she loved this gem of a town. I could live here, she reflected, but …

  She made it back to the inn before curfew, in time for dinner and a good cup of wine. While she ate, she milked the innkeeper about the gossip, recent scandals and political intrigues.

  Next morning she went to the church of San Domenico. Except for an elderly woman praying in front of a statue of the Holy Madonna, she was alone. She entered one of the confessionals in the darkest part of the church and changed into her women’s garments, folding the priest’s cassock tightly into a black bag, checked that nobody could see her, and left the church. Barbarigo’s house was at this end of Via di Sapienza. It would be really bad luck if during these few steps she would encounter somebody who would recognize her as either Lucrezia Alberti de’ Morrone or as Chiara da Narni.

  An old lady admitted her to a modest, but well-kept house and asked her to wait in its spacious hall. A picture of the Annunciation caught her interest. There was no signature, but she recognized it as the work of one of Siena’s foremost painters. She had just retreated a few steps to absorb the painting as a unit rather than its detail, when the sound of soft footsteps reached her. She turned and saw Barbarigo approach slowly.

  "Yes, Lady Chiara, one has to view this marvel of a painting from that distance to appreciate its balance," he spoke in classical Latin.

  "Ambrogio Lorenzetti, am I correct, esteemed Professor, and not an imitation?" she replied in the same language.

  "You recognized it. It is my pride and joy. But how do you know that it is not an imitation?"

  "The way he brings out the light. No imitations I have seen were able to reproduce that effect."

  "So you do not only have a mind that puts most of my students to shame, you are also homo elegans of the arts. But why am I surprised? I had the privilege to admire the da Narni Etruscan exhibition at Palazzo Benincasa and that is yours I was told."

  "Yes, esteemed Professor, it is my pride and joy."

  He chuckled softly. "Yes, your gift of words. We all hoped that you would bring I Magnifici to Siena and regale us with your art."

  "I Magnifici are no more and, unfortunately, Siena is hardly a safe place for us, but particularly me."

  "Yes, I can appreciate this. For weeks the citizens of Siena could talk of nothing else but you. You split the city into two camps, reviving old rivalries between the Tolomei and the Salimbeni. However, you still dared to come back — in your disguise as a novice, I presume? … But let us now retire to my private study."

  She followed him into a sizeable room, its walls lined with a dozen enclosed bookshelves. He studied the document she had brought along and then outlined how he planned to proceed.

  "If Count d’Appiano agrees to submit this case to a tribunal, it will obviously sit in Piombino, and it is essential that you be present as a witness. But, Lady Chiara, I must remind you of what I explained to your question in my lectures," an amused smile lit up his eyes. "Extending the right of the heirs to challenge the validity of documents signed under duress by a person who later died as a logical corollary to the heirs’ responsibility for assuming the debts of the deceased would set a precedent that is a substantive departure from traditional Roman law, and the judges may not be willing to take that step."

  "Yes, esteemed Professor, I clearly remember your scholarly exposition of the arguments, but then nothing can be gained without trying."

  He accompanied her to the door and, while shaking her hand, said: "Lady Chiara, it has been a gratifying privilege to converse with you in my favorite language, and I admire the poetic elegance with which you express yourself. A true pleasure."

  Back in her disguise as a novice, she spent the rest of the day wandering through the city, Via delle Cerchia, Casato di sopra; watching the wool craftsman at work at Fonte Branda, straying into the Terzo di Camollia, as she had so often done two winters before. The former Casa Sanguanero mansion looked empty. She wondered what had happened to her father’s books and the vases that had stood in the loggia. Had Lady Lucia salvaged the books for her own? She hoped that was the case. It felt fine. The books could be replaced, but the vases not. Who had them now? Thinking about books reminded her to visit her favorite bookshop and look for enough reading material to carry her over the winter.

  * * *

  The following day she rode to Poggi Bonsi, only a day’s ride away. Antonia welcomed her with tears and did not want to let her go. They spent a whole day together. She was thirsting for news from Alda and Pepe and details what had happened to her and I Magnifici since they had last visited. Rumors of the demise of Casa Sanguanero had even reached Poggi Bonsi. After giving Antonia’s cousin another two florins in small coins, and checking that Antonia was still financially well off, she left and in the evening three days later was back in Castello Gianbucca.

  October passed. Early November she received a letter from Contessa d’Appiano, praising her for having recourse to the law rather than embark on one of her outlandish schemes for getting back her inheritance and that she had entreated Count d’Appiano to allow the document to be contested in court. What had swayed him was that the eminent Siena scholar, Professor Barbarigo, had agreed to represent her. The letter concluded that she was looking forward to welcome her at the palace.

  They got the first letter from Perugia. Veronica wrote that she enjoyed being Lady Teresa’s attendant, that the old matriarch was kind to her and protected her from unwanted attention of some men she would rather not name, that she found enough time to spend with Jacomo and help him in his studies into which he had launched himself with great zest, that Luigi was very attentive, but that she missed them all terribly and begged them to visit her soon, a
nd that all three sent their warm greetings.

  * * *

  Pepe had done some soul searching of what to do with his time. He could not see himself simply puttering around, growing vegetables and raising chicken, a few goats and sheep for meat.

  "Breeding horses?" suggested Chiara. "You’re good with them."

  "But that will take at least three years before I’ve some to sell."

  "So? … You are healthy and in good shape and still have many active years ahead of you. There is good money in breeding horses."

  He scratched his head, looking doubtful. "You think so? And how do we live until then?"

  "Yes, I think so, and have you forgotten that you are rich? I would be willing to be a partner — what the merchants in Siena call a silent partner, one that only puts in money."

  "Pepino, listen to her," cried Alda. "Has she ever given you bad advice? You would love it."

  He grinned sheepishly. "Yes, come to think of it, breeding horses could be fun. I could start with our mare."

  "And have half a dozen new young mares in addition."

  All three worked in preparing the property for horse breeding, fencing paddocks, leaving mature trees, but freeing them of any low branches where a running horse could get hurt, especially one frightened by a thunderstorm. They paid a Chianciano builder to erect a horse shelter, where the horses could be kept in bad weather, protected from the northerly and westerly winds. Chiara enjoyed the physical activity. Pepe regularly went to horse markets to look for suitable animals. Chiara dipped into her investment with Casa Albizzi to pay her share.

  * * *

  It was December before she received news from Barbarigo. The case would be heard when the Piombino tribunal sat in early February. He repeated the importance of her being present. She planned to leave for the coast in the last week of January.