“It’s wonderful to see you,” I said, meaning it.
“And you as well,” he said, “particularly on such a happy occasion. I’ve allowed little Clara a few more weeks in your service—until the wedding. She begged me, and of course I could not refuse her. The wife of a merchant should not be a maidservant, especially one who is with child! But you are no ordinary maid to serve.” There was no more time to talk. We all held our breaths as the notary labored to scratch out the receipt.
Once the dowry was duly recorded in the notary’s shaky handwriting, Gabriele and I stood to face each other. The notary’s voice trembled but he got the words out.
“Do you, Gabriele Beltrano Accorsi, take this woman, Beatrice Alessandra Trovato, to be your wife?”
“Messer, sì,” Gabriele said.
“And do you, Beatrice Alessandra Trovato, take this man, Gabriele Beltrano Accorsi, to be your husband?”
“Messer, sì.”
Gabriele produced the ring I’d tried on that morning.
“I trust this fits your hand, Signora?” Gabriele gently slid it onto my fourth finger. I saw Tommaso draw his arm up and back, as if he were about to throw something, and then he slapped Gabriele on the back, hard enough so that the sound made us all jump. By the time I realized it must be customary, everyone was laughing.
“Mariate,” Umiltà said, and we were, just like that.
* * *
Mariate, but not, as I soon learned, ite: married but not gone forth. That would be the final step, the ductio ad maritum—the installation of the bride in her husband’s home. Umiltà selected an auspicious day at the end of February for the ceremony: just a few weeks away. The Ospedale still had a few drapers and seamstresses at its disposal, and a team went to work to sew me a wedding dress. Within a week I was able to try it on for final adjustments. It was deep blue with a long skirt that reached the ground behind me, and it came with trailing sleeves and an underdress of pale yellow. I wore a linen chemise underneath—the layers rustled against one another when I moved.
“Blue for purity,” Umiltà said, and the blue was embroidered with golden lilies.Umiltà told me she would keep it in her studium for safety. I let it go reluctantly.
* * *
On my next afternoon off, I went to check out the putative Giovanni Battista’s address. I ended up at a dive-y wine shop that reminded me of a few places in New York’s Bowery district before all the drunks had been cleared out to make way for trendy clubs. I got a lot of quizzical looks from both the ragged clientele and the wine seller, who smelled like the floor of a bar at closing time. In the short three minutes I was in the shop I had to escape two gropes and one offer of payment for more than a grope. But it was clearly no one’s residence, and no one there had heard of a Giovanni Battista. Not surprised, I escaped with relief into the fresh air again.
Next I had to pursue the Medici question. Unfortunately my empathic tendency didn’t work like a tracking device, though it would have been convenient if it did. Iacopo must have come at least once to Siena, knowing his father was imprisoned here, and he must have stayed somewhere. I could start asking at local inns, but I didn’t want a repeat of my last attempt, and I needed a trustworthy man whom I could ask for help. Gabriele was off-limits until the wedding, but Provenzano would be perfect. He was big enough to avert trouble, and unsuspecting. Somehow this would have to be done without putting my friends in danger; the best strategy would be to keep them ignorant. When Clara delivered my midday meal, I set my plan in motion.
“Clara, is there a good place nearby with lodging for travelers?”
“Semenzato’s is the best, and best known,” she said, putting down the tray carefully without bending at the waist, since her waist had vanished. “Do you have a guest coming from another town for the wedding?” She looked at me with interest. “I thought you said you had no family.” She’d conveniently provided me with an excellent cover.
“All sorts of family come out of the woodwork when a wedding is announced.” I smiled brightly to match hers. “My late husband’s cousin may come for the festivities.”
“One must ask in advance to be sure of accommodations. There aren’t many rooms, and they are in great demand.”
“Whom shall I send? Ideally someone articulate, well established . . . someone . . .” I paused, pretending to consider the options. “Do you think Provenzano might be able to go?”
“I am sure he’d be delighted! I shall ask him this very moment.” So far, so good.
Clara’s husband was inordinately happy to see me. Our conversation inevitably turned to what had happened to him in Sicily, and from there to what had become of his former employer. I was surprised to see Provenzano’s face turn a deep, embarrassed pink.
“Ah, Monna Trovato, an excellent question, to be sure, an excellent question.” He pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow, though it wasn’t at all warm in the room.
“What is so excellent about the question exactly?”
“You may be happy to know that he did survive the Mortalità.”
I didn’t hate anyone enough to wish them death by Plague. “Good news indeed.”
Provenzano was even pinker. I waited for clarification. “Messer Lugani actually sent you a letter, via me.” He trailed off unhappily.
“He sent me a letter?”
Provenzano rummaged in his large bag and handed me the folded parchment with an apologetic look. “I hadn’t wanted to bother you, but since you’ve asked, I can’t very well keep it to myself.” I unfolded the letter and began to read.
Vigil of Epiphany, January, 1349
In the Name of God, Amen.
I have heard the good news from Messer Provenzano, that he has found both excellent employment, and a lovely wife whom, I believe, used to be your faithful servant?
My Messina fondaco, as you must realize, now lacks competent staff to keep its operations running smoothly. I know, from the time you spent in my employ, that you have skills adequate to the task. I would certainly find time to pay frequent visits when you take up the post, and would enjoy resuming our prior acquaintance. Your professional competence is the least of what I would look forward to, in my visits south.
You will be happy to know as well that Messer Cane has survived, and he has promised to supervise you as you learn what is required of the post. I feel certain, given your meager salary and lack of family ties, that this offer of employment will appeal to you.
I look forward to your acquiescence.
Messer Girolamo Lugani, Genoa
The man was truly unbelievable. I looked up at Provenzano, who was cringing, waiting for my response. I folded the letter back in thirds and handed it to him calmly.