Allegra

by C. De Melo

  “Only one thing concerns me, Domenico,” Vittorio said. “If we display Allegra’s jewelry in your bottega, as you propose, the demand for her pieces will increase even more.”

  The old man’s eyes lit up. “My point exactly. More money for you, more money for me.”

  “My daughter couldn’t possibly keep up with the high number of commissions. It’s too much for one person.”

  “The senior apprentices could aid Allegra by doing the bulk of the menial work. After studying her designs, they would be responsible for the rough cutting and final polishing. Allegra would do the shaping and filing in order to add her trademark details, of course.”

  Allegra inquired, “Could I still stamp the pieces with my seal?”

  “We’re counting on it,” Domenico replied, grinning.

  “Allegra holds herself to high standards,” Vittorio said.

  “I understand that, Vittorio. Keep in mind that the master painters of Florence have been operating their bottegas in this manner for a long time. Whenever a painting is commissioned, the apprentices do the menial work: stretch canvases, mix paints, create background landscapes, and so forth. The master artist paints the principle figures in his unique style.”

  “You make a good point.”

  Domenico looked to Allegra. “You would continue to work here under the guise of being my protégé, as you have all this time. Nothing would change.”

  Vittorio inquired, “How would we transport the finished pieces?”

  “Carefully, secretly, trusted servants…”

  Vittorio looked to his daughter. “Allegra, do you agree to this?”

  “I have one condition. I wish to see the workshop in your bottega, Maestro, and meet the apprentices who would be aiding me. I’d like to examine their work.”

  Domenico was taken aback. “Do you doubt their abilities?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’re the mysterious and talented La Castagna who’s being praised as a genius in Tuscany and beyond. Those boys are in awe of your talent.”

  Allegra stared at him. “Yes, but they believe I’m a man.”

  Domenico looked down at his folded hands. “As they must.”

  “Isn’t it enough that Domenico wants to sell your jewelry in the Mercato Nuovo?” Vittorio demanded. “Only the finest goldsmiths are invited to ply their trade in that privileged location. The city’s luxury goods are sold in that area, attracting wealthy clients. Imagine the possibilities. Soon, you’ll enjoy unprecedented fame. You should feel honored, Allegra.”

  Allegra merely nodded.

  Chapter 16

  In 1566 Joanna of Austria gave birth to a daughter, but it did nothing to improve her marriage with Francesco.

  Since Isabella welcomed any excuse to throw a party, a celebration was arranged at the Palazzo Pitti in honor of her brother’s firstborn child. She greeted the guests with Troilo at her side and, although she was known for being free-spirited, the close relationship between the duchess and her husband’s cousin attracted several unsavory speculations.

  Allegra and Vittorio attended the event bearing gifts and well-wishes.

  During the festivities, Isabella took Allegra aside and the two women indulged in a bit of gossip. Eventually, she inquired, “Do you still visit Signora Bianca Cappello?”

  “Not as often as I used to. Bianca is busy with your brother these days.”

  They passed a buffet table, which offered an array of delectable treats. Isabella popped a bite-sized meat pastry into her mouth, then inclined her head in greeting to a few courtiers. Suddenly, she smiled. Allegra followed her friend’s gaze and spied her father speaking with an attractive, impeccably dressed woman.

  “Your father is still a handsome, virile man,” Isabella pointed out.

  Allegra nodded. “I’m aware of that.”

  “How long has it been since your mother passed away?”

  “Just over three years.”

  Both women watched as Vittorio played the courtier. The woman laughed and placed a dainty hand on his arm.

  Allegra inquired, “Do you know her well?”

  “Well enough. Her name is Lavinia, and she’s the widow of the late Conte Montello d’Asti. A wealthy woman with a pleasant countenance. Your father could do much worse.”

  “Is she a good person?”

  “I’ve never heard anything unflattering about the countess.” Isabella sighed. “It’s not easy to see your father with another woman, I know.”

  “Who am I to deprive him of happiness and pleasure?” Allegra had not seen her father smile so readily in years.

  Isabella’s eyes turned mischievous. “Changing the subject…Do you know what some of the courtiers are calling you?”

  “No.”

  “The Venus Fly Trap.”

  “Why on earth would they call me that?”

  “You do to men what the plant does to insects—lure and destroy.”

  “I do not lure men.”

  Isabella’s brow shot upward. “You may not realize it, but you do. Your obvious disdain for the male sex is somehow an aphrodisiac. There are gentlemen at this party begging for an introduction despite the fact that you broke the hearts of Matteo Vanusi and Cesare Orsini.”

  “It’s a horrible comparison.”

  “You’re correct. Ice Queen would be a more apt description.”

  “That would imply that my heart is frozen.”

  “Is it not?”

  A tall, pretty girl with a porcelain complexion and light brown hair came to stand beside Isabella. “Dear cousin.”

  Eleonora di Garzia di Toledo was first cousin to the duke’s children, and many people at court called her Dianora. This was her first season and she was full of life and gaiety.

  “Dianora,” Isabella said. “What mischief is afoot?”

  “None, yet,” the girl replied, eyes twinkling.

  Despite the budding breasts beneath Dianora’s costly gown, there was a layer of childish fat still clinging to her cheeks. Known for her prettiness and courtly manners, there were rumors that she would someday be the bride of Pietro de’ Medici, Cosimo’s youngest son.

  The minstrels struck up a lively melody and Dianora clapped her long, white hands. “I like this tune!”

  “Then you should be dancing,” Isabella said.

  “It’s a shame your brother isn’t here.”

  Pietro’s reluctance to participate in the revelries at the Palazzo Pitti was due to his bizarre personality.

  Isabella smiled. “I see a handsome young lord looking at you from across the room. Why not dance with him?”

  Troilo arrived and bowed before Isabella, who took his proffered arm. Allegra noticed that several eyes followed them, including Cosimo’s.

  ***

  The houses of Spinelli and Castagno merged together, and the bottega in the Mercato Nuovo soon flaunted a new, freshly painted sign that read: Spinelli & Castagno Orefici. Allegra did her best to create the most wonderful pieces for the sake of their new enterprise. Predictably, the demand for her pieces increased considerably after being on public display.

  Domenico arrived at the Palazzo Castagno one morning and informed Allegra of a new commission: a gold filigree pendant flaunting a single, perfect pearl.

  “A flawless pearl is costly,” Allegra said. “Who is commissioning this?”

  “The person refuses to reveal himself and sent a messenger with half the payment upfront.”

  Since keeping secrets in Florence was nearly impossible, it wasn’t uncommon for noble husbands to maintain anonymity when purchasing expensive gifts for their mistresses.

  Allegra went into the workshop and started on the project. Hopefully, her father would locate a suitable pearl. She remembered the flawless string of pearls Bianca flaunted when they had first met. It seemed so long ago. Come to think of it, Allegra had not seen her friend in months.

  Bianca’s reversal of fortune, albeit impressive, came with a price. The pair had recently atten
ded a public holy day festival and were harshly criticized for their indiscretion. They often hunted together in the countryside, too, which inevitably incurred negative speculations. News of the couple’s displays of affection had a way of spreading throughout the city like wildfire. Even the most discreet households couldn’t control the wagging tongues of idle servants and giddy daughters.

  Allegra didn’t share the views of the common people or the vicious courtiers who, due to sheer boredom, killed the time by speaking ill of others. On the contrary, she was happy for Bianca and Francesco.

  She even envied them on occasion.

  Ice Queen…

  “Ow!” she cried as she dropped her steel file.

  Vittorio, who happened to be nearby, popped his head in the doorway. “Is everything all right?”

  Allegra sucked the blood on her cuticle. “I’m clumsy today.”

  “I may have located a suitable pearl. I’m leaving now to procure it.”

  “I can hardly wait to see it.”

  Later that night, Allegra held a flawless, opalescent orb in the palm of her hand. The pendant was finished before the week’s end and Domenico was summoned to pick it up.

  “Excellent,” he said, admiring her handiwork.

  Pointing at the pendant, Allegra said, “That pearl came all the way from Margarita Island, off the coast of America.”

  “It boggles the mind to think that men crossed Plato’s Sea of Atlantis to obtain it,” Domenico said, awed by the concept. “I hope the recipient of this gift truly appreciates the effort that went into creating it.”

  The glimmering white orb had the power to entrance. “I’m sure she will.”

  The next morning, Vittorio entered the workshop with a worried expression on his face. Allegra set down the ring she was working on. “Papa, what ails you?”

  “That pendant you created for Domenico’s client…”

  She eyed her father expectantly as he handed her a black lacquered box. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Open the box.”

  She did as she was told. Nestled within a bed of satin was the pendant she had created. “I don’t understand.”

  “Turn it over.”

  Allegra turned over the piece. The gold had been carefully melted and smoothed over to conceal her signature chestnut. She stood, visibly upset.

  “Matteo Vanusi approached me this morning while I was leaving the bottega. He expressed his desire to court you.”

  “He asked for my hand in marriage?”

  “Yes.” Vittorio hesitated. “He claimed to have made this pendant for you as a token of his love, and asked that I give it to you when I inform you of his intention and affection toward you.”

  Allegra’s face turned white as she balled her hands into fists. Not wanting to utter profanity in her father’s presence, she pressed her lips together tightly and went to stare out the window.

  After several minutes, Vittorio prompted, “Allegra?”

  She sat down and resumed working. “Tell Matteo that my answer is no.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Tell him to give the pendant to another woman.” When her father did not budge, Allegra set down her tools and regarded him expectantly.

  “Maybe you should consider his offer.” At the sight of Allegra’s frown, he quickly amended, “At least think on the matter before refusing him.”

  “Why would I do that?” she retorted. “Obviously, the man is dishonest and lacks moral fortitude.”

  “Try to see this from his point of view. Matteo wanted to give you the best while trying to impress you. He’s desperate for your approval. It’s not as if he’s selling your pieces as his own.”

  “Are you suggesting that I be flattered by his deception?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  Allegra laughed without mirth and shook her head disdainfully.

  Vittorio continued, “Don’t you wish to marry and start a family?”

  “Not today.” She paused. “Or tomorrow.”

  “There’s more to life than making jewelry.”

  “I know.”

  “You could do a lot worse than Matteo Vanusi. He’s a good man from a respectable family, and he’s a successful goldsmith.”

  ***

  Shortly after Allegra’s twentieth birthday, Domenico arrived at the Palazzo Castagno with an important announcement. “The time has come for a second sign to hang outside our bottega.” He produced a small wooden sign boasting a meticulously painted castagna d’oro—a golden chestnut.

  Allegra’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m honored, Maestro Domenico.”

  “You deserve it, Maestra Allegra. Given that two thirds of all our sales are La Castagna pieces, it seems fitting to flaunt your name, too.”

  Vittorio placed an arm around her shoulders. “I’m proud of you and I know your mother would be, too.”

  “Papa, how much gold do you have on hand?”

  “A sizeable measure, why?”

  “I wish to celebrate this occasion by creating a pendant for myself.”

  Vittorio frowned. “But you already have so many of them.”

  “Not like this one,” she countered with eyes full of mischief.

  “Very well, take what you need and make note of the exact measure so that I can deduct it from my supply.”

  Several days later, Vittorio noticed a long gold chain around her neck, but the pendant itself was tucked inside her bodice.

  “Is this your newest creation?” he inquired, puzzled.

  “Yes.”

  “The pendant is hidden. What’s the purpose of wearing it if you’re not going to flaunt it?”

  “I know it’s there.”

  Allegra pulled out the chain and a solid gold chestnut about half the size of a real one dangled from the end of it.

  Vittorio took the tiny chestnut into his palm. “It’s flawless; a most unusual piece for a most unusual goldsmith.”

  Chapter 17

  “Don’t go yet, my love,” she implored, wrapping her arms around him.

  “The sun is rising and your ladies will be here soon for your toilette.”

  He pushed back the coverlet and made to leave, but she held fast. “I’ll send them away. It’s chilly outside, but it’s warm beneath the covers.”

  Glancing at her curvaceous body, Troilo was tempted to give in to his lover’s request. “Isabella, you know that I cannot.” He kissed the tip of her nose before adding, “Although the Lord knows how badly I want to. You could tempt the devil himself when you employ that sweet tone.”

  Isabella giggled and let go of him, then watched in amusement as Troilo dressed in haste. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

  “I’m expected.”

  She leaned up on her elbow. “By whom?”

  “Have you forgotten? Your brother invited me to go hunting.”

  She flopped back on the pillows and sighed. “I remember.”

  “We’ve been taking far too many risks lately,” he commented while fumbling with the buttons of his suede doublet.

  Isabella pouted prettily. “I’m sure Bianca will be there. It’s not fair that Francesco can parade his lover openly whereas I cannot.”

  “You know it’s different with men.”

  “I know,” she agreed with a sigh. “Don’t worry. Everyone is well aware that we’re good friends. After all, we’re family.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I doubt they see our affection as familial.”

  Isabella reached out to give his bottom a playful slap. “Cousin Troilo.”

  He frowned. “I’m serious, sweetheart. We need to be cautious. If my cousin ever discovered—”

  “He’ll never know,” she interjected. “Besides, what does he care?”

  “You obviously don’t know your own husband.”

  “How can I? Paolo rarely sets foot in Florence. We hardly ever spend time together. It’s obvious to everyone that ours is a marriage of political strategy and convenience.”r />
  “Still…”

  “Do you honestly think your cousin is living chastely?” she challenged. “I’m sure he has several mistresses to keep him warm at night.”

  “A man can have mistresses. A woman must remain virtuous because she’s responsible for bearing children,” he pointed out. “You’ll someday be the mother of Paolo’s legitimate heir. No man wants to be a cuckold or raise a bastard.”

  “So I’m to remain alone and untouched, like a statue.”

  “That’s not what I meant, my dearest.”

  “Are you tired of me? Is there another lady vying for your affection?”

  “The answer to both questions is no.”

  She crossed her arms. “I promise to be more careful.”

  Troilo winked at her before slipping out of the bedchamber.

  ***

  “Did you hear about Isabella?” Bianca asked. “She miscarried. Again.”

  Allegra accompanied her friend on an afternoon stroll. Peeking over her shoulder to make sure the servants were out of earshot, she replied, “It’s quite sad.”

  “Paolo Orsini visits his wife in Florence on occasion, does he not?”

  “Most certainly.”

  The obligatory coupling for the procreation of children was expected, and Allegra knew that Isabella submitted to it with as much dignity as she could muster.

  They passed a cartolaio advertising Vasari’s Lives of the Artists. The art historical canon was first published in 1550, but the book had just been recently revised with new editions.

  “Wait, please,” Allegra said, indicating the book.

  “Francesco obtained a copy for me last week when the revised version was first released.”

  They walked into the cartolaio where Allegra made her purchase.

  Bianca, who browsed the generously stocked shelves, returned to the former topic of conversation. “One cannot help but speculate on the paternity of these doomed infants.”

  Allegra cast a nervous glance at the bookseller as he handed her the leather-bound book. To the man’s credit, he pretended he hadn’t overheard Bianca’s careless comment.

  “Thank you, Signorina,” he said. “Please keep me in mind for any other books you may wish to acquire for your library.”