Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (24 page)

A hand touched her shoulders. She looked up and saw the kind face of the middle-aged woman.

"He had the consolation to see you again, my child, and died peacefully. Come and get some rest yourself. I will prepare him for burial."

She took her by the hand into an adjacent room.

"Here, lie down and try to sleep. I will wake you when it is time."

* * * 

The burial took place in the morning of the following day. Violating all burial conventions, Chiara was one of the pallbearers together with Mercurio and two of Denardo’s servants. Chiara gave the priest a florin to say a mass for her father. She insisted on refunding Giancarlo Denardo any debt owed by her father. He handed her a leather bag containing her father’s documents and papers. He urged her to study them promptly. She decided that it could wait until she was back in Monte Pulciano.

Early afternoon, she and Mercurio were in the saddle again with fresh oats for their horses. If the pace had been fast coming down to Grosseto, it was blistering going back. They reached Cinigiano after nightfall. The gates into the small town were already shut, but when Mercurio identified himself as one of Lord d’Appiano’s men, they opened one side to let them in. Up before dawn, they covered the sixteen leagues to Monte Pulciano in twelve hours.

During these long hours they talked little. On the first afternoon, Chiara could only think of her loss. She lived and relived every second she had just spent with her father. The happiness of these moments, of his forgiveness, of his blessing, made the sadness of his passing away bearable. On the second day her thoughts returned to why her father had given in to Massimo Sanguanero. To prevent the resumption of the vendetta between the two families. Strange as it was, she was glad that this was the reason. He had done it out of love for her, because he thought that this would save her life, although she doubted that it would have. From the way father and son Sanguanero had talked on the Santa Caterina, she was convinced that they would have arranged for her to die promptly after her father.

The news that the treasure actually existed came as a big surprise. She had not thought that her father would have kept such a secret from her. Maybe he had told her brother. Maybe he had planned to tell her after the marriage. She would never know. She had not dared to broach that subject again. He was too weak to talk. All she got confirmed was that the little book was the key to it, but she still had no clue as to the nature of the treasure. He had only said ‘They will even desecrate that’. What could that mean? Some religious relics? But why would her father be in possession of religious relics? … unless they had been entrusted to him by the Knight Templars who wished to save them from confiscation by the French king when the Pope banished their order more than thirty years ago. Any relics would fetch high prices if sold. Then she remembered that her father had said that the feud between the two families had been about the treasure. So its origin went farther back.

I’ll never know … unless I get that little book.
But that was hopeless. It was in the hands of Niccolo Sanguanero. They might by now have already recovered that treasure.
Maybe not
. She was sure that none of the poems contained any hidden reference, let alone an open one, to a treasure. If there was, it was so artfully disguised that it would take an extremely clever person to decipher it and she did not put Niccolo into that category. Would she be able to do it, she wondered? What started as a stray thought slowly grew into a determination. She must regain possession of that book. It alone and no other copy contained the secret. If Niccolo thought that they had won, he had not counted her in. She would plan and bide her time until she could create the right opportunity to snatch it back.
Dear father, all not is lost. It will not be desecrated, whatever it is.
This was her solemn pledge.

Upon entering Monte Pulciano, she called on Lady Maria before returning to the players.

"Chiara, you are back already? Did you not go to Grosseto?
Messer
Mercurio, you promised that you would get her there and back safely."

Rather than come immediately to his defense, Chiara could not resist the temptation to hear his answer first.

"My Lady, we have been there and spent almost two days in Grosseto."

"
Messer
Mercurio, do you take me for feeble minded … or has Lady Chiara been conniving with you to say that."

The poor man was wringing his hands and looked to Chiara for help.

"Chiara, you promised to visit your father. Why did you not do it?"

"Lady Maria, please forgive us for upsetting you. But as
Messer
Mercurio said, we went there and I saw my father." The thought of her father brought tears to her eyes. "He passed away while I was there."

"Oh my poor child. Come." She embraced Chiara, patting her back.

"He has forgiven me and has blessed me," Chiara murmured.

"I am glad I could play a small part in that."

"I will be eternally grateful to you for urging me to see my father immediately. Even a day later and I might have arrived too late."

"I see. You must have had a premonition. That is why you rode so fast. But I still cannot understand it. You must have flown."

Mercurio recovered his voice. "Yes, my Lady. You could say that. Never in my long career as a soldier have I been driven along without mercy like this. And Lady Chiara tells me that unless I am up by noon, I will miss her performance."

"But Chiara, you must rest too. You will not have a steady hand unless you are well rested. Even well rested, it is too dangerous what you do. I really should forbid you to expose yourself ever to danger like this."

Chiara could not suppress a smile.

"Oh, I know you. Chiara. It is no use to forbid it. You would do as you please anyway."

"My Lady, I am distressed that you have such a low opinion of me."

"Chiara, Chiara, I do not believe you… You said the performance will be again early afternoon?"

"Yes, my Lady. But now I must return to my friends and then take that rest that you recommend."

The countess’ laugh filled the room like the trilling of a lark.

"Go, child, go, before you are the death of me."

Chiara curtsied and then said to the guard: "
Messer
Mercurio, thank you for your protection, but even more for your company and support."

She was surprised to see the seasoned soldier blush. As she walked out, she heard the countess say. "So,
Messer
Mercurio, I am certain his Lordship will be pleased to hear that it is possible to ride from here to Grosseto and back in four days."

* * * 

The following day, Piazza Grande was overflowing. Word had spread quickly that I Magnifici would offer their last performance. Chiara searched for Mercurio and found him close to the stage among a large group of guardsmen. After the knife throwing act she quickly skipped to him. It was obvious that he had no idea what was coming when she kissed him on both cheeks to the boisterous cheering of his fellow guards and the crowd. She noticed Lady Maria and Heloïse in the center window of Palazzo Del Monte. Veronica started her collection with the soldiers, who jested with her and gave generously, and then went again under the window of the palazzo where she received another fat purse.

12

Siena, middle of November 1348

My father was dead, but I felt rich. He had forgiven me and I had his blessing. I even overcame my reluctance to look through the leather case of documents he had left me. The first object I saw was the pouch which I recognized as containing the da Narni seal. I took it out, not able to suppress my tears, and pressed it to my bosom. There was the deed for his knighthood; the marriage contract to my mother; two documents for the transfer of funds between branches in Naples and Pisa of a merchant banker, the most recent one dated a few months prior to my brother’s departure for Naples — I guessed to arrange funds for my brother to touch on once he was in Naples; various letters — I recognized the name of two well-known Florentine families; several property deeds for our lands on Elba; the settlement compensating Massimo Sanguanero for the loss of his sight, transferring Castello Nisporto and all its lands to Casa Sanguanero. I was shocked when I saw my father’s signature. It had lost the firm, elegant flow I remembered and looked frail — the signature of an old man who could hardly hold the quill anymore. How it must have affected him. My heart bled.

The last scroll I unrolled was the contract for my own marriage to Niccolo. My first impulse was to throw it into the fire, but I stopped my hand in the last moment. A devious thought flashed through my mind. Impersonate the daughter of a rich merchant family and trap Niccolo into a marriage contract with the lure of a highly profitable commercial venture that would fleece Casa Sanguanero and hopefully bankrupt it. It might therefore be useful to have copies of legal documents on which to base any forgeries I might need for the various transactions.

The ideas were still hazy and only partially formed. I would explore them carefully, ponder on all possible aspects and work out a detailed scheme that covered all eventualities and therefore would succeed. I put all documents back into the leather case.

Would Niccolo or any of his men recognize me? Lady Maria did, but more by my gestures than my face. I knew that I had grown at least half a hand width since I left Elba. I studied myself in the mirror. The woman who looked back was the one I had become familiar with since we had left our refuge. There was no trace of the chubbiness of my teen years. The face was lean, the high cheek bones even more pronounced, the nose and chin giving it strength, the lips delicate, maybe a bit too thin — an aristocratic face I had to admit to myself. If I plucked my eyebrows, maybe dyed my hair black, wore a wig of tresses, padded my breasts, nobody who did not know me well would recognize me.

My life had suddenly a new urgency: to take revenge on Sanguanero for the suffering they had inflicted on my father, and try to regain possession of the lands on Elba that were my rightful inheritance. I had no intention of killing them. I wanted them to taste what it meant to be humiliated and live in poverty. With this came the realization that I was a true daughter of da Nardi, that the need for revenge was in my blood, whether I liked it or not.

Our destination was Siena. We intended to stay there for the winter, offering the occasional performance, hopefully at private functions for rich merchant houses. This should provide us with the funds needed to live comfortably, without even having to dip into our sizeable reserves. I would use the spare time to advance my quest and then strike Niccolo Sanguanero when I was ready and crush him like the foul insect he was.

Siena was good to us. I Magnifici, sought after by noble houses and rich merchants alike, became famous for their commedia erudita. Our purses swelled beyond our wildest dreams. And I discovered another thing about myself. Not only had I become a consummate actress, I also could match my mind with the best at the university. In my free time I dared to enter these auspicious halls of learning in view of understanding how notaries and lawyers worked. Since the authorities deny women attendance to lectures — shame on them — I disguised myself in the clerical garb of a novice.

* * * 

I Magnifici resumed their slow trip toward Siena, stopping in Monticchiello, Pienza, San Quirico d’Orcia, Mont Elcino, and Buon Convento, where they stayed several days, entertaining the many pilgrims going to or returning from Rome on the Via Francigena, before continuing up the Árbia valley to Siena. They entered Siena through the Porta Romana, the southern city gate on the Via Francigena in mid-afternoon and settled into a comfortable, but reasonably priced taverna in Via di Salicotto, a narrow street parallel to Via Francigena.

Since Chiara had never been to Siena, she wanted to explore the city. Alda offered to be the guide, and they took Veronica along. On the Campo, the half-moon-shaped piazza in the center of the city, they admired Palazzo Sansedoni and Palazzo Pubblico with their impressive three-storey fronts of triforate windows. They marveled at the recently completed slender Torre del Mangia that reached high into the sky.

When Chiara had seen Florence, she was convinced that she would never see a more impressive city, except maybe for Venice. While Florence exuded arrogance in its grandiose public structures, Siena’s had an intimate charm that captured her even more.

"But this city is empty," Alda exclaimed repeatedly. "I’ve never seen so few people on the Campo."

"Didn’t the innkeeper say that more than half the population died?" responded Chiara. "But it’s so beautiful. I look forward to spending the winter here. Tomorrow, we’ll go looking for a suitable house to rent."

"There should be plenty, and I would say cheap too."

Chiara put her arm around Veronica’s shoulders. "Are you happy too?"

The girl beamed. "Yes, Chiara. I didn’t know I could be so happy, and it’s all because of you."

"I love you. You are the sister I never had." She squeezed her arm and the girl lowered her gaze bashfully.

Back at the inn, standing in front of her small mirror, Chiara began plucking her eyebrows above the bridge when Alda came to her room and watched her.

"Why are you doing this?" she wondered. "Your eyebrows are beautiful."

"So that I’m less likely to be recognized. Siena is the seat of Casa Sanguanero. I also plan to color my hair lighter to give it a more reddish hue. I’ll ask Antonia how to do it… How is she? She didn’t look well on the trip."

"Traveling has become hard for her, but don’t worry, she usually bounces back quickly. She’s tough."