Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (60 page)

"And what was that whisper? No, do not tell me. That Casa Sanguanero was trying to break into the spice trade. Right?"

"That is when they put their knives in, if I may say so."

He smiled. "Nicely put, and theirs were equally sharp. Lady Chiara, you are a most dangerous woman. In retrospect, I am now doubly glad I listened to the advice of my perceptive mother, not to mention the pleasure of getting to know you, and I hope that this is not the end, my beautiful girl."

He touched her hand. Chiara withdrew hers, relieved of being spared a reply when Lady Amelia, after casting her a chilly look, attracted his attention. But she also wondered whether all men of power and influence perceived any woman as fair game.

* * * 

Two days later, I Magnifici gave their first performance of
Phormio
at Palazzo Baglione, preceded by the knife act — Lord Baglione specially asked for it — followed two days later by
Electra
. The response of the audience was similar to the one in Florence, overwhelming praise for the first, a mixed reception for the second, with many spectators fascinated, wanting to see it a second time, and others overwhelmed, even distressed, by its tragic starkness. Four more invitations followed, all but one for
Phormio
.

After one of these performances, Orlando remarked when she handed him his share of four florins: "There is one thing to be said for a famous, or infamous, corago. The purses are full." In fact, each performance was rewarded by thirty florins. Apparently, no noble house wanted to be known as less generous.

* * * 

One afternoon, while she was writing letters in the shade of a tree, a slight woman, all dressed in black, a lace scarf hiding her graying hair, entered the court of the taverna and looked around searchingly.

Chiara got up. "Signora, may I help you."

After a moment’s hesitation, the woman hurried over, fell to her knees and kissed Chiara’s hand repeatedly. "Thank you, thank you," she murmured, "for sparing my son’s life."

Ser Piero’s widow?
"Signora Piero, come, sit with me." She pulled her up gently. "How is your son? I’ve been thinking of him often."

The woman dried her tears. "He’s getting better, my Lady."

"His eyes are not damaged?"

"No, I thank the Blessed Virgin every day. He can see well."

"I’m glad to hear that. And is he again serving Lord Baglione?"

"Yes, he started last month. My Lady, he’s a good, loyal boy and he regrets what he did."

"Signora Piero, I regret the senseless death of your husband, his father. That’s why I pleaded with Lord Baglione to stop this vendetta, that’s why I didn’t want your son to be another of its victims."

Tears ran down the woman’s cheeks. She clumsily dried them with a handkerchief, apologizing.

"Giancarlo has asked me to thank you for giving him his father’s sword," she murmured.

"Tell him to wear it proudly in the service of his Lord."

"He will, my Lady, he will."

"Signora Piero, please do not think I’m trying to pry, but are you willing to tell me how you’re coping without your husband’s income?"

"We have to make do. In time, my son will earn enough to support me."

Chiara hesitated for a moment. She did not want to offend the proud woman. "Would you find me impertinent if I gave you some money to tide you over until that time comes?"

"My Lady, I could not take it."

"Signora, I took your husband’s life. Not that I had any choice. It was either me or him. But it was not because I had any grudge against Ser Piero. I didn’t even know him. This is why his death was so senseless. So, please, let me help you. It would ease my conscience." She pulled out her purse and pressed it into her trembling hands. It contained thirty-one gold pieces, the corago’s share of the last two performances and enough to supplement the woman’s needs for several years. "Please, take it," she repeated again.

The woman took the purse and held it to her chest, bursting into sobs, murmuring: "Thank you, thank you, my Lady."

Chiara embraced her, fighting her own tears. Her body felt so frail. After a while, she regained her composure somewhat, and Chiara let go.

"Is Giancarlo your only child, Signora?"

"He’s the only one alive. His older brother and sister both were taken by the pestilence."

"Then he is all the more precious to you."

"He’s the only one I’ve left." Renewed tears streaked down her cheeks. "I’m so silly, I can’t stop crying. But I’ll pray to the Holy Madonna every day that she protects you, my Lady, I will. And now I won’t intrude any longer. Thank you, my Lady."

"Signora Piero, I’m glad you came."

"May God reward you, my Lady."

* * * 

Before leaving Perugia, the old Lady Teresa insisted that the entire group attend a small banquet in their honor. While Alda and Orlando took this in stride and Pepe was just his usual self, Jacomo and Veronica were frightened that they might do something wrong. So Chiara practiced with them several times how to greet and respond to members of the nobility and assured them that they were doing fine.

"And remember one thing. Don’t be shy and clamp up. When talked to respond with more than just yes or no. Let your intelligence show, the way you do with me, that’s what people will appreciate, and above all, look them in the eye, smile warmly if this is appropriate. This will give the impression of confidence, even if you may not feel it yourself. Only one minor point. I’m sure you have noticed that when I talk to such people, I never use colloquial language, such as ‘I’ll’ or ‘I won’t’… Look, I bet that nobody will doubt that you both come from an educated family."

And this is how it turned out. Chiara introduced them as Veronica and Jacomo da Narni. She noticed their surprise, but both recovered fast. Lady Teresa was delighted by them and specifically commented on their excellent manners. Chiara was not surprised that Veronica received special attention from Lord Baglione. She heard him laugh several times. He seemed to respond to any good-looking woman by flirting. She now understood why his wife saw her as a threat.

When they took their leave, he assured Jacomo that he was welcome as their guest when he and Luigi would take up law studies later that year.

* * * 

They debated whether to go back into Tuscany, Luca, Pisa, doing Lorenzo’s tour in reverse. In the end they chose to go deeper into Umbria, Assisi, and down Via Flaminia to Terni, Narni and then decide whether to continue to Rome or return to Tuscany.

It was late May when they reached Narni with full pockets and Rome beckoned less than twenty leagues south. Orlando alone was the not keen to go to Rome, not after his unpleasant experiences there.

"I think it would be wise to avoid Rome during the summer months. It isn’t a healthy climate," he warned.

"We don’t have to stay there more than a few weeks and then start north on Via Francigena. Anyway, we can’t stay longer if we want to get Jacomo back to Perugia in time for the start of his law studies in October."

"We might not get private invitations that easily in Rome. I Magnifici aren’t known there."

"Oh, don’t worry, Orlando, our corago will think up some outrageous scheme to make it happen before you can count to three," exclaimed Alda.

"Just don’t accuse me for being crazy when I do, Alda."

Four days later they took quarters in an inn near the Pantheon. Chiara could not resist admiring that splendid shrine, now the church of Santa Maria Rotonda. A feeling of being small and insignificant overwhelmed her as she entered the huge bronze double doors and stood under the eye of the dome, the opening into the sky seventy feet above her.

On the first day, they went sightseeing with Orlando as their guide. What struck Chiara most was the dirt in the streets, excrement, dead animals, rotting vegetables. Never had she seen the likes of it in any Tuscan town. And the smell — how could people live in such filth? No wonder Orlando had advised against Rome during the summer heat. They walked along Il Corso, the old Via Flaminia from Il Capitolino all the way to Porta Flaminia, Rome’s northern gate, visited La Ripetta, the busy port on the Tiber river, followed that river, past the somber prison fortress of Mole Adriana on the opposite shore, down to Isola Tiberina, the picturesque island in the river with its two bridges connecting the city with the maze of Trastevere — Orlando refused to enter it, claiming that they might not come out alive. They wandered through the ruins of Rome’s former glory, Il Foro Romano that had become a pasture for sheep and cows and was still plundered for its building stones, through the Arco da Costantino, past the Colloseo, all the way to the old Papal residence on the Laterano, abandoned for more than forty years since the Pope moved to Avignon, and entered one of the oldest churches in the world, the Basilica Costantiniana, just at the start of the evening mass, awed by its one thousand years of watching over the faithful. Footsore and tired, they returned to their inn. It had all been a bit too much and too fast.

Next day, her first task was to visit the Roman agent of Casa Medici. Several letters had arrived weeks before. Two for her, and one each for Jacomo and Veronica, both from Casa Baglione, presumably Luigi. The first letter she opened was from Averardo di Bicci. He congratulated her for uncovering the Etruscan artifacts, which he had admired greatly when he especially visited Monte Pulciano to see them. He offered to buy the whole set, that he surely would be able to accommodate her with a price that she would find satisfactory. The letter closed by saying again that he would like to get to know her better, that he had never met a more fascinating woman than her. Should she sell it? She was sure it would be treasured with respect at Casa Medici, but she felt an immediate anguish just at the thought of not bringing it to her castle on Elba.
But there is no castle on Elba for me anymore.
A painful emptiness briefly took hold of her. She shook it off, hardening her heart. She decided her reply would be noncommital, but leaving the door open.

The second was from Contessa d’Appiano, telling her again that she had several illustrious marriage prospects who were only waiting for Chiara to say yes. There was disturbing news from Elba. Niccolo Sanguanero was squeezing the tenant to the point where the Governor of Elba had been petitioned to intervene. This report shook Chiara badly. Her father had always had a good rapport with his tenants. In fact, she was certain that they had loved and respected him. Her unconscious reaction was to want to go to Elba and make it hers again. But she had promised to herself, after Jacomo had been hurt, that she would never again let her need for revenge put any of the people who had become her family in danger. Anyway, there was little she could do except appeal to Lord d’Appiano herself to make Niccolo Sanguanero treat the tenants fairly. However, the whole matter remained at the back of her mind, an irritant sore that did not want to go away.

Both Jacomo and Veronica eagerly tore open the seal and began reading avidly the first letter ever addressed to them. Chiara watched Veronica’s excitement. At one point, the girl became aware of it and blushed, bending her face down more as if to hide. She was curious, but refrained from asking. The girl was bound to confide in her before going to sleep that night.

* * * 

Early afternoon, while most people took their siesta, she went in search of a suitable venue for performing
Phormio
in the open, her idea of attracting the attention of Roman noble houses. A sizeable square surrounded by mansions, but also not right in front of a church, or a place used by nobles where they promenaded to impress their fellow citizens with their wardrobe and the number of servants. She had already observed such processions where some servants scouted ahead to clear the path of both loiterers and animal droppings, while others scurried behind with refreshments and smelling salts. Piazza Navona, just a few streets over from the Pantheon seemed to fit all her criteria, as well as having the advantage of closeness.

She set Jacomo and Veronica to make a dozen copies of a small handbill, announcing the life-threatening knife-throwing act, followed by a Latin play in the vernacular, two days hence in the late afternoon, the time when nobles took their stroll. A select list of Tuscan sponsors, noble houses and merchant bankers — Tolomei, Salimbeni, Medici, Buondelmonti, Baglione, Benincasa — for whom I Magnifici had performed featured big on the handbills. She folded them, put the da Narni seal on each and delivered them to mansions and palazzi in the area. They posted three larger parchments for their only public performance, one in Piazza Navona, a second in Campo de’ Fiori, the third in Piazza Rotonda.

The show began with their usual knife act, drawing a crowd of several hundred. While Jacomo and Veronica collected the donations during the interval, Pepe, Orlando and Alda set up the minimal props for
Phormio
, consisting only of pieces of cloth, with openings for the entrance of the actors. When Chiara announced, that in contrast to the usual short comic skits, they would present a play of
commedia erudita
, it was greeted by a chorus of protests. A portion of the spectators left and more drifted away after a few minutes into the play, while others drew closer.

Early in the play, while Orlando and Chiara waited behind the props for their entrance, he said with a knowing mien: "I told you that it wouldn’t work. Look, they’re leaving in droves."

* * * 

At dinner, two days later, after some more sightseeing, the players wondered what to do next, since they had not received a single private invitation. Should they offer further public shows — the knife-throwing act and short skits that always brought in modest sums — or should they leave and slowly travel along Via Francigena back into Tuscany?

"I really don’t think there is a need for panic yet," argued Chiara. "Look, it has only been two days. Just give it another few. There are still many things we can admire before we need to make a final decision."