Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (43 page)

"I thought you would. That’s why I said nothing."

"And what will happen now? Couldn’t we stay here for the winter? I love it in this nice little house. We could even buy it."

"Yes, it’s nice here, but I would prefer to put some distance between us and Tuscany. How about spending the winter in Rome? We should manage to attract quite a few invitations there. It’s a big city, larger than Siena."

"I always wanted to go to Rome," mused Alda. "Maybe you could convince me of that. Orlando, you know Rome. Should we go there?"

"I definitely want to leave Florence and Tuscany. Better run while we still can. And yes, Rome is an interesting city, a bit run down. Still, it should offer us plenty of opportunity."

"I’m for whatever Chiara suggests," said Jacomo and Veronica nodded vigorously.

"I’ll have to go back to Siena one more time. I promised Lucia to attend the celebrations for the betrothal. If I don’t show up, they’ll get suspicious and that will leave us less time to get away. So I suggest that you get everything ready for departure in the middle of next week. In fact, I suggest that you leave without me for Arezzo, and I’ll join you there directly from Siena."

"And what about the two performances we are scheduled to give?" asked Pepe.

"One is for a guild, isn’t it? And the other?"

"A late summer show, in the hills near Fiesole. A nice family with lots of children."

"Let’s cancel them. I’m not keen on the guild and too bad for the other one. We don’t need the money." She looked at the others, most of whom nodded. "I’ll leave for Siena — for the last time — on Wednesday. Yes, Jacomo, what is it."

The young man was all agitated. "I think it isn’t safe for you to go alone from Siena to Arezzo. I want to come along."

"That’s very thoughtful of you, Jacomo, but I think though that you’re needed with the others, not only to help them with the animals, but also for their protection."

"But what about your safety?"

"Unless she’s attacked by a whole horde, and then even the two of you would be in trouble, she’ll get away and only lose a few knives," muttered Pepe.

"Jacomo, I appreciate your concern, but I really think that you’re needed by Pepe. There is though one thing you can do for me. Pick up the horse in Montefiridolfi. I’ll take the one in Castellina along to Siena. Pepe can then sell it, unless you think it may be useful to keep it. We can afford it. Will you do that?"

He nodded, not able to hide his disappointment.

Later that night, in their bedroom, Veronica asked: "Why did you give me and Jacomo all that money? We hardly did anything."

"Because I love you and five hundred florins will be a respectable dowry for you, enough to marry into a good merchant family. And Jacomo may not want to be a clown for all his life. So this gives him enough to start a business. With his skill for animals he could breed horses. There’s good money in that."

"But I don’t want to leave you. I want to remain with you and Alda."

"Maybe, one of these days we can all be together on Elba. I’m sure you would like that, and I know a wealthy family there with lots of good looking sons. If one of them catches your fancy, I can be the aunt to your children."

The girl’s eyes took on a watery sheen.

"Come, let me hug you, my little sister."

* * * 

Chiara traveled to Siena by day and arrived there late Wednesday afternoon. She left both horses at the end of Via delle Cerchia. Rather than go to Casato di sopra, she stayed in the little house in that street. After washing herself, she strolled through the city still in her clerical garb. She lingered for a while near Casa Sanguanero, watching the goings-on. They were unloading a cart with what seemed to be balls of cloth, the kind of cloth she had put on the list of merchandise for Alexandria. She caught a brief glimpse of her sailor, but resisted the temptation to stay, having learned all she wanted to know. After a quiet meal in a taverna, alone in a dark corner, she went back to Via delle Cerchia and changed into Lady Lucrezia, making it to Casato di sopra before curfew.

She arranged a visit with Lucia on Friday, but it brought her no closer to discovering a scheme for retrieving the little book from Niccolo’s office. On Sunday, she joined the Sanguanero family for mass in the church of San Domenico. Niccolo was on his best attentive conduct, even a shade proprietary. He insisted on accompanying her back to Casato di sopra. She noticed that he found it difficult to keep up a conversation. It was rather like a sequence of disconnected one-sentence topics, until she asked him to tell her about the Sanguanero ancestry and, to her surprise, she actually learned something new.

"Casa Sanguanero is an offshoot of the Baglione family," he began. "You surely must have heard of the Baglione, both famous and infamous. My great-grandmother was the daughter of Malatesta Baglione who in his younger days was the terror of Umbrian mountains. She married a cousin who, I was told, was sent to Perugia as a spy for the Baglione, where he changed his name. He was killed in a vendetta —"

"— another aspect the Baglione are legendary for?"

He chuckled. "You could say so, but don’t worry, Casa Sanguanero has settled down since then. In fact, one of his sons, Braccio Sanguanero, my grandfather fled to Siena and became a successful merchant. He established Casa Sanguanero."

"How fascinating!" She wondered, had her grandmother been his sister?

 "Yes, I am proud of our ancestry. My father took over from him and he founded our branch in Pisa and also went into shipping. We run two merchantmen, one of the first merchants to do so, mainly to Marseille and Spain, occasionally even to the Barbary coast."

I know well, and piracy has taken the place of road banditry.

"I don’t think I met any Sanguanero, except your family, or did I?"

"Interesting that you noticed that. No, my father was the only child that survived, and my grandfather only had a sister, and she married a poor nobleman on Elba. My father claims that it was to stop a vendetta between the two families. She might as well have been buried alive, the poor woman."

So it was my grandmother and she was a very happy woman.

"I might once take you to Elba and show you the little castle where she lived. It has quite an idyllic location, high up in the hills, overlooking the sea. We recently inherited it."

You mean ‘stole it’ and the ‘big farmhouse’ has become a little castle?
"Do you still have contact with the Umbria Baglione?"

"Occasionally. You might remember the strapping youth you met at our house. Luigi Baglione, the youngest son of Lord Grifonetto Baglione of Perugia. He was sent to us to for training, a bright young man."

"Yes, I think I remember. Eyes fairly close together."

"Yes, that is him. You have great powers of observation."

"Thank you, Signore, you are too generous with your praise."

"Not at all, not at all. Talking about vendetta, he told me that one is brewing again in their parts. Two of his uncles got killed in the last three years. They know the first one fell to the arrow of a woman, apparently belonging to a group of traveling players. They suspect the second fell victim to the same people in Assisi last year. Some traveling players were seen in Assisi at that time, but they lost track of them, although the Baglione are known for never giving up."

Let’s hope they’ve lost track for ever.

"And now we have reached Casato di sopra, unfortunately, and I will have to leave you. Lucia told me that you promised to attend the celebration of our betrothal. It will be worthy of your illustrious status and of Casa Sanguanero as one of the first families of Siena."

He kissed her hand and murmured: "I wish you a good day, Signorina. Maybe I will have the privilege to see you when you visit my sister. She has taken a strong liking for you."

His last words stayed heavy on her conscience for most of the day. She wished she could spare Lucia her betrayal.

* * * 

On Monday late afternoon, she waited until she saw the servant women take leave of Messer Faranese, Casa Sanguanero’s notary, and then called on him — her aim to scout out his house, particularly the location and layout of his office. She was just about to give up, when a key was turned in the lock and the door finally opened a crack. He failed to recognize her. Only when she gave her name, was there a flicker of recognition, and he opened the door a bit more.

"Signorina, if your visit concerns the marriage contract, I am afraid I need the presence of either Messer da Quaranta or Signor Sanguanero."

"No, Messer
e
, I come for advice on an entirely different matter." When he did not budge from the entrance, she asked: "Messer Faranese, please excuse my intrusion, but you are the only notary I know in Siena. May we talk in the privacy of your office?"

He nodded and let her enter into a small dark hall, while he carefully locked the front door again. Holding a candle in front of him, he led her up a narrow staircase, wheezing heavily by the time they reached the single long and narrow room that took the whole length of the house. Heavy drapes covered the window on the side the stairs ended. The meager flame of a single oil lamp on a large table left the room in a somber mood. The surface of the table was loaded with documents and ledgers, some of them open. Rows of cabinets lining both walls disappeared in the gloom at the far side of the room. The one that was open had scrolls piled to the very top.

"Signorina, will you permit me to sit. At my age the stairs have become a burden."

He did not wait for her response, put down the candle and sat heavily into the chair, nor did he invite her to sit on the only other one. She removed the book on it and sat too.

"On what matter do you need advice, Signorina?"

"I have inherited a piece of land next to the Abbey of Monte Oliveto Maggiore near Buon Convento, and I thought to donate it to the abbey as a gesture of gratitude for the good fortune of my betrothal to Signor Sanguanero. I would appreciate your advice on how such a donation is best done."

She watched him carefully to see if by sheer habit his gaze would go to a certain cabinet, the likely place where he stored documents involving the transfer of property, but his eyes did not stray from her.

He went through lengthy explanations of how such donations should be made.

"Would you be so gracious as to permit me to see the deed for such a donation? I have difficulties grasping the details verbally."

He hesitated. "I can only show you a very old one, not one from somebody who is still living." He went to a cabinet a third down the room to her left. She took careful note of its location. He rummaged around for a while and then brought her a scroll, dated 1328. She pretended to study it carefully.

"Yes, that is very much along the lines I had thought. I particularly like the clause that a mass be read for my soul each year. My sincere thanks. I will have the deed for the land sent up to you as soon as I am back in Naples. I can sign it when I come to Siena in a few months."

"Is that all, Signorina?"

She got up and so did he.

"Yes, thank you,
Messere
… I guess the work for Casa Sanguanero keeps you busy?"

This time, his gaze fleetingly fell on the first cabinet to the left of the window. He looked at her questioningly, as if he had not fully understood her. Having learned what she wanted, she did not repeat her question. Instead, she said, a bit louder: "Signor Faranese, there is no need for you to tire yourself on the stairs again. I can see myself out."

"My house has to be locked at all times. There are too many important documents stored here."

Taking the candle, he led the way. Before entering the stairs, she tried to see into the far end of the room, but could not make out any details. Did he sleep at that level or on the floor above?

Her mission had been a partial failure. It confirmed that he lived alone. She had a vague indication of two places where the document signing her land over to Casa Sanguanero might be stored, but she had not discovered where Faranese slept and whether she could gain access into the house from the roof. She had no choice but to explore that the coming night.

During her previous stay in Siena, she had checked out the attic under the roof in Casato di sopra. Removing about eight roof tiles would allow a slim person to slip through the opening. That night, she donned the garments of a page boy from the troupe’s collection of costumes — a body hugging doublet ending at her hips, just covering the short breeches, close-fitting sleeves, and a long hose with leather soles, all in black. Her hair was hidden under a black hood with a small shoulder cape. A black full face mask completed her disguise. She waited until the half-grown moon reached its apex and then gained access to the roof. Like most roofs in town, it had little slope, removing the danger of slipping, while at the same time hiding her from the streets below. Fortunately, there were no towers in the immediate neighborhood.

Faranese’s house was four over. Sticking to the top of the ridge, where the tiles were better supported, she noiselessly made it across the first three. At each step, she slowly put pressure on the foot, both to stop the tiles from clicking against each other as well as to test them for support. The notary’s house was one storey lower. She carefully checked out the drop and was pleased to discover that the slope of his roof was slightly steeper, reaching higher at the ridge, and therefore making it easy to climb back up again. She lowered herself to the roof. Testing half a dozen tiles, she found one that she could shift enough to lift off, quickly followed by another half dozen. It was pitch black below. She lowered a weight on a thick thread into the hole and made a knot where the pull ceased. Just to make sure, she tested it again on the other side of the hole. At both places the distance to the floor below was just a bit more than her own height. Access to the attic would not be difficult, all she needed was a short rope, not to get down, but to get back up again.