From Hell with Love (5 page)

“Nice things?” he asked as he started to sit down on the bed, but he was stopped by the girl’s shaking head.

“Yes, quite nice things, but nothing out of the ordinary.  Maybe less eloquent for the wine, but nothing that you haven’t said before,” she said, which caused Niccolo to smile, but then she continued, “which makes me wonder what it was you were hoping I
didn’t
hear.”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Niccolo said, trying to dismiss her skepticism.  “It was only certain things about the wedding I was sworn not to talk about.  You’ll have to see it tonight.”  The merchant’s son felt relieved that he had not ruined the surprise, but when he leaned down to kiss Camilla, she put her index finger on his lips.

“If I have to wait, so do you, young Vespucci.  Now get out of here, before the servants talk even more,” Camilla said before standing up and guiding Niccolo to the door.  He pretended to be offended at the act, but when he was shoved out of her room, he only looked at her and smiled.

“It will be torture for both of us, Camilla,” he said, but she merely shrugged at the statement.

“That will make it better.”

***

“Marco, please tell me you have it,” Niccolo said as he slapped his best friend in the face.  The inebriated Fiorentino was still snoring after the strike, so Nico picked up a nearby vase of water and dumped its contents onto his face.  Marco sputtered into consciousness and flailed out with his limbs, his elbow smacking into the merchant’s son beside him.

“What was
that
for?” he asked as he pushed himself away from Niccolo and put his back against the wall of his room.

“Do you have it, Marco?” Niccolo urged, which only caused the newly-awoken drunk to roll his eyes.

“You’re going to need to be more specific, Nico.  I have a wealth of
its
.”

“The
ring
,” Niccolo whispered, hoping that even God would not hear him.  Marco looked confused for a moment before desperately looking through all of his pockets.

“I…I should…” he muttered before shoving his finger into the fabric of his trousers and bringing out a ball of lint.  “Oh, that’s not it…”

“Marco!” Nico shouted, about to strike his friend, but the drunk laughed and shook his head before reaching behind him and grabbing a small pouch from the table.

“Relax, you rotten bastard, I wouldn’t lose this ring.  At the very most I’d sell it to a discrete merchant,” he said, which caused Niccolo to glare at him.  Marco sighed with disgust before wiping his face with his hand.  “Don’t give me that look; I’d steal it back.”

“It’s important, Marco, I don’t want to joke about it,” Niccolo said as he sat on the bed and looked at his drunken friend.  The lout was another merchant’s son, but he had not bothered to stay in his father’s good graces and had instead mired himself in a den of iniquity.  Marco had a bit of Sicilian lineage, so his hair was curly and black, but the drunk had never left Firenze.

“Well, don’t give it to someone known for liking, stealing and selling shiny things, my friend,” Marco said before standing up and walking over to the other end of the room and grabbing a rag to wipe himself off.

“Marco…”

“You’re
fine
, Nico,” he said before wiping off his face and turning to his serious friend.  “The ring is fine.  Camilla is fine.  I’m hurt that you don’t think about me in these circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Niccolo asked as he picked up his right leg to the bed and then drew it close.  The question made his friend scoff with fake disgust.

“Wha…what circumstances?  That you don’t know is just more of an offense!”

“What are you talking about, Marco?”

“A date, my friend, a date!  As in, I am missing one for the evening’s festivities.  What will it look like to show my face at your father’s wedding and not have a pretty little woman on my arm?”

“You can always hire one,” Niccolo said, but that only caused Marco to roll his eyes as he leaned up against the opposite wall.

“I would have to sell your dear ring, which, by the way, wouldn’t even go for much.  You’re the son of a merchant, Nico; you can act like it every once in a while.”

“She’d like it, Marco, and it’s not about the money between us.”

“Yes, yes, just between your
fathers
.  I’m aware, my good friend.  I listen to you complain about it regularly.”

“Yes, well, the business should have been over and done with a long time ago.  We have been sneaking away with each other for years,” Niccolo said as he remembered the days he and Camilla had spent as children of Firenze.  It would have been a surprise for things to work out any other way.

“I know, and while it makes you happy, I still disapprove.”

“Disapprove?”

“Yes, young Vespucci, I disapprove!  You are
virile
, in the spring of your youth and you are choosing to abandon the most worthwhile of pursuits,” Marco said as he straightened up and puffed out his chest.

“Oh please,” Niccolo muttered, already knowing what Marco was getting at.

“You don’t just settle down with the first girl you see, Nico.  You must tend the fields and know which flowers are best suited for you.”

“Perhaps I like my flower.”

“Young friend, you know little of flowers.”

“And
you
do?” Niccolo asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I should think so.”

“Then why does Marco not have a date to my father’s wedding?” Niccolo asked, knowing his friend had not anticipated the trap, but also knowing he would find a way out of it.  It only took a moment of hesitation before Marco gave him a wicked smile.

“I don’t want one.”

“You were
just
talking about this, Marco,” Niccolo started, but his friend, who still reeked of alcohol, stumbled closer and wagged his index finger in front of Niccolo’s face.

“You did not let me finish, we started talking about shiny things and I got distracted.  I did not want a date.  I also did not want
you
to have a date.”

“What?”

“Yes!” Marco shouted as he stood back up.  “I would need you to distract the…homely girls while I hunt for the best flowers.”

“I could do that for you still, Marco,” Niccolo said, but Marco gave him a disappointed look and sighed.

“But your
heart
wouldn’t be in it, Vespucci,” he stated, causing Niccolo to shrug in response.

“I guess that’s true.”  They sat there staring at each other for a moment before Marco shook his head and sat on the bed beside him.

“Others might feel threatened by a father’s new wife, Nico.  She could bear the man another son,” he said, the light tone gone from his voice.

“A second son, Marco.”

“Perhaps a
favored
son, my friend,” he said before turning and making eye contact with Niccolo.

“It will not be a problem.  There are no issues between us.  Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?” Marco asked, but Niccolo just nodded toward the ring on the table.  “Ah, he’s the one letting you do it.”

“They made their agreements and Camilla and I will be perfectly happy, Marco.”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Nico?  It is the start of your life.”

“You’re right, Marco,” Niccolo said as he looked down at his arm, which was itching terribly.  He had been told to ignore the rash, but he scratched at it through his shirt before looking back at his friend.  “It
is
the start of my life.”  The sentiment brought a groan from the lout beside him, who breathed out heavily.

“The women of Firenze shall weep on that day, my friend.  They shall weep.”

“And you will be there to console them, Marco,” Niccolo said, mischief in his eyes.  Marco merely stared into the distance, smiling at his prospects.

“Of course, it is my duty as the best man.”

***

 “Ladies and Gentlemen,” Niccolo said, raising his voice to address the crowd and only fumbling slightly over the words.  It scarcely had an effect on the drunken revelry happening in the courtyard of the Vespucci estate. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” he shouted, trying to interrupt the laughter and whooping happening in front of him.

“Everyone, my son is trying to speak!” Carlo Vespucci declared from the other end of the courtyard.  The older man was a bit heavier, wine and food had never been absent in his life, but otherwise held a great deal in common with his son across the room.  They both had an angular nose and a strong jaw, but it could be said that Carlo had a kind face.  No one had accused Niccolo of anything other than mischief.

“Thank you, father,” Niccolo slurred as he raised his glass, which was filled halfway with expensive wine from another province.  His father had spared no expense, and Niccolo had not spared any wine.  He swayed as he stood, but his confidence got the better of him and he jumped onto a nearby table so all of the drunken visitors could see him clearly.

“Careful, Nico, I can only replace
some
of the glassware,” his father jested, giving him a wink, but Niccolo just shook his head.

“
Can
is not really the word, now, is it, father?” he said before returning Carlo’s wink.  Niccolo straightened his posture and looked at all of the people who had come to celebrate his father’s wedding.

“Now, we all know why we’re here.  We’re here to celebrate my father’s union to Allegra over there,” he said before motioning to the well-endowed blonde woman sitting next to his father.  Allegra was beautiful with soft features, coming from a northern province, and had caught Carlo’s eye immediately.  “Now, we can all talk about how beautiful Allegra is, especially behind my father’s back,” he said before grinning at his father, who merely shook his head, “but I think we all know why my father chose this woman to be his new bride.”

“And no!  It’s not because she’s pregnant or that her breasts are enormous!” he joked, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

“You can only look!” Carlo shouted as he stood out of his seat, his face bright and rosy.  He leaned down to kiss his new wife on the cheek before sitting back down and looking skeptically at his son.

“Oh, hands off, I’m sure,” Niccolo said as he brought up his wine glass again, the liquid swirling around as he moved.  “I think we all know what my mother meant to my father.”

“Just another voice to ignore!” came a shout from the crowd, which caused some of the more inebriated guests to giggle, but Niccolo ignored it.

“Before the fever took her, they were very happy.  I was sad when she passed, but I know that my father lost someone very important to him.  He was listless, sorrowful for a good number of years.  Only now has he been able to move on.  Only now has he been able to reclaim his happiness and become the man he was supposed to be.  And for that,” Niccolo said before making eye contact with his father’s bride.  “For that I will always be grateful to you, Allegra.  And I will treat that child growing inside you as my own flesh and blood.  You are my family, now.”

There was silence for a moment as the crowd considered Niccolo’s words, but Allegra stood up, her hand below her midsection as she lifted herself out of the chair.

“Thank you, Nico.  I appreciate what you’ve said here.  And I hope that is true, for I consider you my family, as well,” Allegra said as she lifted her own glass.  Niccolo smiled and waved his glass over the crowd.

“To family!” he shouted before bringing the wine to his lips and draining the glass in one motion.  Cheers erupted as the crowd joined in and laughter erupted as the drunken guests got back out of hand.  Niccolo stepped down from his table and waded into the crowd, which was full of all kinds of friends of the merchant Vespucci.  He hoped that he would not miss the Tarantella, as it was always one of his favorite dances, but Niccolo had other things on his mind.

When he approached his father’s table, the older man was looking at him with pride.  Niccolo climbed up to the man’s side and wondered what he should say to his father.

“Only look, Nico,” Carlo said with a grin, which caused his son to laugh.

“I promise, father, I have no intention for otherwise.”

“We both know that, son.  Now, tell me,” he said before pouring himself another glass of wine.

“Tell you what?” Niccolo said as his father finished pouring and then motioned to the empty glass in Niccolo’s hand.

“Oh, don’t be shy, boy, what did dear Camilla say?” Carlo asked as he grabbed at the wine glass and then poured a full glass for his son.

“Oh, I was hoping to speak to her after the wedding,” Niccolo said, which caused his father to look at him with disapproval.

“Nico, did I not raise you right?  This wedding is the perfect time!  Romance, my boy, is in the air.  Strike while the iron is hot, as they say,” Carlo said before turning to his smiling wife and lightly slapping her on the thigh.

“Perhaps you struck a little too quickly, father,” Niccolo teased, which brought a glare from Carlo.

“Careful, Nico, you might not be the only son after this month.”

“Good!  You’ll have someone else to teach your lessons.  You do go on incessantly, father,” Niccolo said before winking.

“You should listen to your father, Nico,” Allegra said, which caused both men to look at her, “if only to spare my child the brunt of his silly lessons.”

“Oh, we’ll have to teach you about manners, wife,” Carlo said, but Allegra just shrugged and looked around the room.

“This seems to be a poor place for them, dear,” she said with a slight smile before turning to her new stepson.  “He is right, though.”

“He is?” Nico asked before he filled his mouth with wine.

“A wedding is quite romantic.  And I saw her earlier, Nico.  She is stunning.”

“Ah, but then how will I find the words, Allegra?” Niccolo teased, but Allegra just brought her hand to her husband’s face.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.  Neither you nor your father ever want for words,” she said before kissing Carlo, who looked to be the happiest man in the room.  After the kiss, Niccolo’s father turned to him and nodded.

“It has been a long time coming, son.  I am sorry about that,” he said before taking his wife’s hand in his own.  Niccolo smiled at his father’s happiness and then bowed.