by C. De Melo
“Only Gianna. I told her this morning.”
Bruno’s eyes filled with tears as he remembered his late son, Agostino.
Another child.
A second chance at life, at love, at fatherhood; he experienced a moment of perfect bliss.
***
Vittorio and Lavinia were present when Allegra went into labor in April 1574. When the midwife appeared in the main hall to announce the birth of a healthy boy, Bruno crossed himself and uttered a prayer of thanks to God before entering the bedchamber. The sight of his lovely wife resting against the pillows with a healthy infant in her arms evoked pure joy.
His son.
Bruno approached the bed and kissed Allegra’s forehead. The infant stared at him with wonderment and his heart swelled with love. “I wish to call him Domenico, if that’s agreeable to you.”
“I was thinking Domenico Vittorio.”
Bruno grinned before taking the baby into his arms. Walking to the window, he allowed the milky sunlight to kiss his son’s new skin.
“Our great city awaits you,” he whispered. “I regret that my father isn’t here today to meet you, but you’ll bear his name.”
Two days later, a messenger arrived with the tragic news that Cosimo de’ Medici was dead. Allegra mourned the man who had been her godfather. She and Bruno attended the spectacular funeral to pay their last respects to the noble ruler who had done so many good things for the city of Florence and its proud citizens.
No sooner had Francesco de’ Medici succeeded to the grand duchy, than he installed Bianca in the palazzo he’d purchased for her on Via Maggio. Located steps away from the Palazzo Pitti, the elegant residence screamed of decadence after having been remodeled by the talented Bernardo. Francesco had commissioned his friend to reconstruct and design the existing edifice, and Bernardo exceeded all expectations. The entire façade boasted ornate sgraffiti, and the coat of arms above the door depicted a hat—or cappello—in honor of its noble inhabitant. The Palazzo Bianca Cappello came to be seen as an architectural accomplishment of the highest degree.
With Bianca only a stone’s throw away, Francesco began openly parading his mistress under the nose of his outraged wife.
When Cardinal Ferdinando’s spy apprised him of the situation in Florence, he called Bianca Cappello an “adventuress” and an “interloper,” then cursed her for good measure.
Chapter 26
By the time Vittorio and Lavinia returned to Florence in the autumn of 1574, La Castagna was almost a distant memory. The roles of wife and mother took priority in Allegra’s life, and she fulfilled her responsibilities with a grateful heart. Little Domenico, who came to be called “Nico” thrived under Gianna’s solicitous care. The old servant doted on the boy as if he were her own grandson.
As for Bruno, he was kind, and affectionate toward her. Although he displayed jealousy on occasion and was prone to occasional brooding, he was a fine husband.
One day, Bruno came home from the bottega and announced, “There are rumors that La Castagna is dead.”
“For once, the rumors are true,” Allegra replied, her eyes glued to her son as he suckled hungrily on the breast of his wet nurse. “My life is now devoted to you and Nico.”
“Sales have plummeted, and people are demanding La Castagna pieces.”
Allegra searched his face before leading him away from the wet nurse. “Are you suggesting that I create jewelry again?”
“That’s precisely what I’m suggesting, my love.”
“What of Nico? I can’t devote as much time to my craft as I once did.”
“We have a house full of servants who can help you with the baby.”
Allegra grinned. “I love you, Bruno Spinelli.”
***
In July 1576 news of Isabella de’ Medici’s sudden death spread through Florence. Shocked and deeply saddened, Allegra tried to piece together the fragmented stories relating to her friend’s demise. Supposedly, while hosting a hunting party in the Medici villa at Cerreto Guidi, Paolo Orsini found Isabella on her knees. According to him, she’d been washing her hair and spontaneously died; the reason of death unknown.
Later, several servants stated that they had witnessed Paolo strangling his wife for committing adultery with his cousin, Troilo.
Were the rumors true? Did Paolo kill his wife? Like the mysterious death of Lucrezia several years beforehand, there wasn’t enough evidence to incriminate the husband.
Allegra and Bruno were heartbroken at the sight of the Orsini children crying copiously at Isabella’s funeral. Paolo, on the other hand, failed to shed a single tear. Oddly, Troilo, who had shadowed Isabella’s every step when she was alive, wasn’t present to pay his last respects.
Bianca’s presence was also missed at the funeral. Word soon spread that Francesco’s mistress was recuperating after having given birth to Antonio de’ Medici, their bastard son.
Allegra set off to visit Bianca and the baby a few weeks later. The Palazzo Cappello was as spectacular on the inside as it was on the outside. Frescoed ceilings and intarsia marble floors graced the spacious rooms. A well-dressed servant led Allegra to Bianca’s boudoir, where she sat with her newborn son. Dressed in a loose fitting gown of sumptuous gold patterned silk, she resembled an empress.
“Allegra, come and meet my son.”
Allegra placed a small basket of flower-shaped marzipan on a nearby table before presenting her friend with a gold bracelet for the baby.
“Thank you,” Bianca said, slipping the bracelet onto her son’s wrist.
“Congratulations. Antonio is perfect little boy.”
Bianca sighed contentedly. “I know. Oh, look what Francesco gave me yesterday,” she said, holding out her hand to show off a new emerald ring.
“How lovely,” Allegra commented. “Francesco must be overjoyed.”
“Of course. I’ve done what his wife is incapable of doing.”
It was true. Between 1566 and 1575, Joanna had given birth to a total of six daughters, but only three survived infancy. The Medici dynasty required a male heir, and the Austrian princess had failed in her duty.
Bianca continued, “What use are all those daughters? I’ve finally given Francesco what he so desperately wanted and needed—a son.”
Allegra refrained from reminding her that Antonio, despite bearing the Medici name, could not be in line for the grand duchy of Florence. “How are you feeling?” she inquired, tactfully changing the subject.
Bianca placed a hand on her forehead. “The birth was unpleasant, but I’m recovering rather well. God wanted me to have this child.”
Allegra dutifully crossed herself and smiled. “Thank the Madonna. It warms my heart to see you looking so well and happy, my dear.”
“Me, too!” Spreading her arms wide, she inquired, “Well? What do you think of my new home? I’ve recently decorated my boudoir.”
Like her bedchamber in Venice, the elegant room was decorated in shades of pink, white, and burnished gold. Fat cherubs draped in roses graced the frescoed ceiling and large paintings of bucolic pastoral scenes adorned the walls.
“Splendid, like you,” Allegra replied.
***
Allegra soon developed a schedule, splitting her time between creating jewelry and caring for Nico. One afternoon, Allegra received an urgent message prompting another trip to the Palazzo Cappello.
“Thank God you came to see me,” Bianca said, obviously distressed.
“I came as soon as I received your message. Is it Antonio?”
“My darling son is the picture of good health,” she said, crossing herself. “Not here. Come, I don’t wish the servants to overhear our conversation.”
They entered Bianca’s private sitting room and Allegra waited until she closed the door to inquire, “Is Francesco well?”
“Oh he’s well, all right,” Bianca snapped. “Joanna is pregnant.”
“You know it’s their duty to produce an heir,” Allegra said gently.
&nbs
p; “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. I’m merely stating that you shouldn’t be upset with him for fulfilling his obligation to the people of Florence.”
Bianca placed her face in her hands and wept. “What if that cow gives birth to a boy this time? Francesco will cast me aside!”
“Don’t even think such a thing. Have you forgotten how much he despises Joanna? It will take more than a son to make him leave you,” she said, hoping this was indeed the case.
“Do you believe that?” Bianca asked, sniffing and wiping her tears.
“You’ve given Francesco the boy he wanted. He loves you for that.”
“Yet he refuses to acknowledge our son. I’ve begged, but it’s no use.”
Allegra said gently, “If Francesco openly acknowledges Antonio as his heir, and Joanna gives birth to a boy, imagine how humiliating it would be for you when the claim is rescinded.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“In his heart, Francesco may wish to do one thing, but his position forces him to do another. Surely, you understand this.”
“I know he loves me and Antonio.”
“Of course he does.”
Feeling somewhat appeased, Bianca changed the subject. “How are you? Nico is well? Bruno, too?”
“We’re all healthy and doing fine.”
Bianca peered at her friend for a long time. “Oh, that I could taste a bit of your happiness…”
***
On May 20, 1577 Joanna of Austria bore Francesco de’ Medici a son. A grand celebration at Palazzo Pitti ensued for the boy whom they christened Filippo, in honor of the boy’s godfather, King Phillip of Spain.
Bruno and Allegra partook of the celebration at the Palazzo Pitti and, along with hundreds of other guests, offered their congratulations to the ruling couple. Naturally, Bianca wasn’t present for the festivities. She appeared at the Palazzo Castagno a week later wearing a black gown with a black veil to hide her tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes.
Allegra led her distraught guest into the library. “You look as though you’re in mourning.”
“That’s because I am,” Bianca replied dramatically as she took a seat by the hearth. “My life is ruined.”
“You mustn’t let Francesco see you like this,” Allegra warned. “He’s ecstatic over the birth of his son, and this comportment on your part would be offensive to him.”
Bianca recoiled. “You’re the last person I ever expected to reprove me.”
“I’m not reproving you, dearest, I’m speaking as a true friend.” Allegra reached for her hand. “Babies are innocent beings, free of sin. Don’t worry. Francesco will love Antonio as much as he loves Filippo.”
Bianca nodded, no doubt recalling the love she felt for her late daughter, Pellegrina. Nico came running into the room to show his mother the bright green grasshopper he caught in the courtyard. Bianca couldn’t help but smile at the chubby three year old and open her arms to him. At first, Nico retreated to his mother’s side but, at Allegra’s urging, he shyly approached the elaborately dressed woman.
The moment the boy got close enough, Bianca snatched him up and sat him on her lap. “Let’s see what I have here,” she said, reaching into the drawstring purse at her waist. “I think there may be a bit of candied orange rind in this little tin.”
Bianca opened the tin and offered it to the boy. Nico wasted no time in stuffing the sweet treat into his mouth.
A young woman appeared in the doorway. “Time for your nap, Nico.”
Nico wriggled off Bianca’s lap and ran to his nurse.
“I envy you, Allegra,” Bianca said wistfully.
Chapter 27
On April 10, 1578 the grand duchess woke up in a foul mood. “Bring me my chamber pot!” Joanna bellowed from her richly canopied bed.
Two maids scurried into the room. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
Heavily pregnant with her eighth child, Joanna feared her full bladder would burst if she didn’t relieve herself immediately. “Make haste!”
The young women helped their cumbersome mistress squat over the chamber pot. When she finished urinating, one of the maids went off to empty the pot while the other assisted with the morning’s ablutions. Standing naked in the middle of her bedchamber, Joanna placed both hands across the pale expanse of her stretched skin. Hopefully, it would be another boy to act as a guarantee against her sickly son, Filippo.
Two males would secure the Medici dynasty.
A servant came in with a breakfast tray and Joanna cast a cool, disapproving eye at the aged cheese and fennel sausage served alongside boiled fruits and fresh bread. She picked at the fruit and ate a morsel of bread before waving away the tray.
Damn these Florentines and their unpalatable food.
“It’s warm today, my lady,” said one of the maids. She held up a cool linen maternity gown created by one of the court seamstresses.
Joanna waved the garment away in favor of a black velvet Austrian gown she had taken out to accommodate her large belly. The maids eyed each other quietly before helping their mistress dress for the day.
“I want to wear my pearls,” Joanna said as she doused a silk handkerchief with rose water before applying it to her face.
She studied her reflection in the mirror. Strands of fine blonde hair stuck to her damp forehead, so she brushed them back with her hand. At age thirty-one, her alabaster skin was still smooth and firm. She hated the thought of growing old here in Florence with a husband who disliked her as much as she disliked him, but what choice did she have as a woman?
When her toilette was complete, Joanna went into the chapel to take communion, then sat in the loggia to enjoy the morning sunshine. She opened a prayer book and focused on the small printed page.
Francesco, who happened to be passing by, stopped at the sight of his wife. Her white skin and light gold hair literally glowed in the sunlight. Sometimes, she was almost pretty. It was a shame they didn’t get along well. It would have made the perfunctory couplings a bit more palatable. Sensing his presence, she stiffened.
“Buongiorno, Joanna.”
Without looking up from her book, she replied tartly, “A bit early in the day to visit your whore, is it not?”
Francesco’s face reddened with anger. “What I do, where I go, and whom I see is no concern of yours, wife.”
This drew a sharp look from Joanna. “You disgust me,” she muttered the moment he walked away.
“The feeling is mutual, my lady,” Francesco shot back over his shoulder.
Irritated by the distasteful encounter, she decided to take a calming stroll in the Boboli Gardens. The baby inside of her kicked as she crossed the breezy loggia and headed toward the stairwell. Descending the stairs, she caught a whiff of perfume and heard the rustle of silk.
“Die, you bitch.”
“Who—”
Joanna didn’t finish the sentence. She tried desperately to grab onto anything to stop her fall. Two scullery maids were on their knees, scrubbing the floor in the other room. Hearing Joanna’s scream, they came running to her aid. One of them alerted her lady’s maid, who in turn alerted Francesco, who was in the courtyard speaking with a groom. While everyone ran toward the stairwell, a cloaked figure crept along the shadows of the palazzo before darting into the Boboli Gardens.
Moaning with pain, Joanna was carried to her bed where she eventually bore a premature infant. Cannons fired for the birth of the second Medici son, but the child died shortly afterward. The following day, Joanna also perished. While the bells of the cathedral tolled for the death of the grand duchess, Bianca sat at home alone shedding tears of relief.
Cardinal Ferdinando was instantly suspicious when he learned of his sister-in-law’s demise. “How exactly did she die?” he demanded of his spy.
“The servants said Her Grace fell down the stairs,” Michele replied.
Ferdinando rubbed his chin. The spy clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at his
feet. He knew better than to offer any insight or opinion unless specifically asked to do so. Ferdinando motioned to a servant to fill his goblet and offer one to Michele. The spy smiled gratefully as he accepted the fine wine, then watched as the cardinal paced back and forth before an open window. The majestic dome of St. Peter’s filled its frame.
Ferdinando stopped. “What are the people saying in Florence?”
Michele shrugged in a calculated manner. “Everyone is shocked and saddened, but no one has made any accusations….”
The unspoken ‘yet’ made the cardinal frown. “What of the courtiers?”
“May I speak freely, my lord?” The cardinal nodded and he continued, “A few people have insinuated that Bianca Cappello and your brother conspired to kill Joanna.”
Ferdinando winced. “I must scan the marriage market to find a suitable bride for Francesco before that vixen sinks her claws into him. Return to Florence at once and keep me apprised of their every move.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“God help us if that fool marries Bianca…” After a long pause, he added, “I should have been firstborn.”
***
Gianna passed away in her sleep shortly after Easter in the year 1579. The entire household was saddened by her death, and Vittorio insisted on providing a respectable funeral. Allegra became sick with grief by the loss of the beloved woman whom had cared for her since birth.
A month later, Bianca visited the Palazzo Castagno accompanied by armed guards and two ladies. Allegra embraced her friend.
“What a pleasant surprise, Bianca. You’ve brought quite an entourage with you.”
“Actually, they must travel with me everywhere I go.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve come to share good news with you, but it must remain a secret between us.” She held out her hand and pointed to the gold wedding band gleaming on her plump, white finger.
“Does this mean that you and Francesco…?”
“We were married in secret a few days ago. Cardinal Ferdinando doesn’t know. He’s trying to arrange a marriage for his brother—can you imagine?” Bianca rolled her eyes. “Francesco couldn’t bear another unhappy union like the last one, so he married a woman of his own choosing—me!”
