*
Umiltà came into the scriptorium just after Prime at the beginning of the third week of September. Even at that early hour the sun provided enough light to write, but the heat of summer was fading and the evenings cooled with a breeze that hinted of autumn. That particular change of seasons had always made me a little melancholy, but now, the feeling was intensified, the calendar racing toward the Plague’s arrival. I was no closer to a plan to extract myself from this century than I’d been the day I arrived, nor could I protect myself and those around me from the approaching disaster.
When Umiltà walked in, I had just settled down with a new project. Lugani wanted a copy of Dante’s Paradiso, and my job was to create a new edition in a week. I didn’t notice Umiltà until she was in front of me.
“I’m not even close to finishing,” I said, looking up from the canto I was transcribing.
“Ser Lugani wants to meet you,” she said, grimly.
The shortness of her sentence worried me. “Why?”
Umiltà grimaced. “Messer Lugani’s scribe died of flux on the trip from Genoa, and the merchant has need of an immediate replacement.”
“You suggested me?” I was horrified. I’d been trying to get out of the fourteenth century, but getting out of Siena was no help. There was no point trying to run from the Plague, as it spread through what would someday be Italy and the rest of the world.
“Of course not. But Ser Lugani has discovered your existence, and wishes to evaluate your suitability for the position himself.”
“What if I don’t want to change my place of employment?”
“Neither of us is in a position to make that decision,” Umiltà said acidly, though it was clear her anger was directed at Lugani. “We are loath to lose you. I did appeal to Messer Lugani to consider your employ a temporary position, so that you might be returned to us after his voyage comes to an end.”
I didn’t like her phrasing. It made me feel like a misdelivered UPS package. “Then I suppose I’ll have to meet him,” I said, grumpily.
“He requests your presence today after the Sext bells. I will send Clara to escort you.”
“I’d rather spend the afternoon with Dante,” I said under my breath.
* * *
Lugani was not what I expected. The stories I’d heard of his sweet tooth and greed made me imagine an overfed, overprivileged whale of a man. Clara led me into the suite of rooms that had been turned into the merchant’s temporary office, and Lugani’s force of will hit me before I could even take in his appearance. He’d removed his red biretta and laid it on the table, revealing black hair cut close to his head in defiance of the pageboy style of the time. He wore a scarlet robe, and had a single gold ring on the third finger of his right hand with an inset ruby, but no other adornments. He was a jaguar restraining himself before a kill, and I was his prey.
There was a single guard in the room, armed with a nasty-looking weapon. I stared into Lugani’s face, willing myself not to blink. His eyes were so dark I could hardly see the pupils, and his mouth incongruously sensuous.
“Monna Trovato, it is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance. I was told of your skill, but no one warned me of your exceptional beauty.”
“My appearance isn’t relevant if you want to hire me as a scribe.” Lugani laughed, a deep, free sound, filled with mirth. That surprised me too.
“And a sharp wit to match. That will be a pleasure on our voyage together.”
“I have an excellent position here at the Ospedale.”
“And I will return you to that position when I am done with you. It has been decided.”
Since it appeared that refusing was not an option, I got down to negotiating. “What are your terms?”
“Twenty florins to act as my scribe for the duration of the voyage, the use of a horse to reach the coast, ship’s passage, and private accommodations for the duration of the journey. That is far more than you would earn here.” He was irritatingly correct about the salary. I supposed he’d found out my stipend before meeting me.
“How long is the trip to Genoa?”
Lugani arched one eyebrow then and smiled in a way I didn’t like. “The trip to Genoa? That can generally be accomplished in three to five days, if conditions are favorable.”
“Aren’t we going to Genoa?” Lugani shook his head, still smiling. “Then what is our final destination?”
“Ah, our final destination?” Annoyingly, he didn’t answer me. “If all goes as planned, we should arrive by mid-October.”
I tried to wait him out. “How will I get home to Siena once the job is done?”
“I see that your many remarkable qualities include intelligence. You are even better than described, and you were certainly recommended highly, if reluctantly. I am certain Suor Umiltà would have sung your praises more enthusiastically had she not feared she’d lose you to my company.”
It was nice to know Umiltà valued me, but I didn’t like the source of the information. “The flattery is lovely, but doesn’t answer my question.”
“I will arrange return passage for you at the end of your contracted time in my employ.”
“What exactly does the job of scribe entail?”
“You will keep a record of all the materials we carry with us, each item that we sell or purchase, its origin, and its cost. In addition, I expect a daily written log. You will compose any letters that I require, taking dictation from me. The ledgers will be handled by my other staff.”
“What if I prefer not to accept your offer of employment?”
“I regret that refusing is not an option.”
“What do you mean by ‘not an option’? I’m not a slave.” I could feel my face getting hot.
“You are, of course, a free woman. However, I have arranged that continuing in your present job depends upon this service in my employ. I’m sure you realize the best outcome will be achieved for all involved if we agree.” Free will notwithstanding, I didn’t appear to have a choice.
“When do we leave?”
“In one week. I trust you will be able to ready your affairs in time.” I waited. “We are bound for Sicily,” he said, finally telling me our destination. “I have business with a silk trader from Messina whose goods cannot be matched on the continent.”
Sicily. Almost five hundred miles. If Siena held the key to my return home, I’d be leaving it here, along with a life that had begun to feel compelling enough to make leaving hard to imagine. Lugani motioned for me to sit at the table. A contract lay on it, with a space for my signature, and all the terms we’d discussed. Cursing silently I signed my name, and after a brief hesitation, the marker of my scribal identity. That’s what I was being hired as, after all.
* * *