Venice & Florence, 1496
Venice
Celeste Gabriele pulled her cloak tighter against the chill as the gondola glided along the canal. The only sounds rising from the mist over the water were the shrieks of gulls and the rhythmic splash of the gondolier’s oar. The previous days had been unseasonably bright and clear for Venice in winter, but that morning the weather had turned gray and dismal to match Celeste’s mood. The dampness made her forty-year-old joints ache, and her mind drifted to her younger days.
The bleak weather reminded her of the day ten years earlier when she and her brother, Marco, delivered their disgraced sister to the only convent near Venice willing to accept her. The two of them were now on their way to take Veronica home. After another week in Venice, Celeste would take her sister back to Florence. Celeste doubted that allowing Veronica out of her sequestered life was wise, but she’d left them with no other choice.
“You’re quiet this morning, sister,” Marco said, startling her out of her musing.
Celeste sat straighter and turned to face him. “Please, tell me again what our sister wrote in her letter.”
“Veronica insists she’s ready to leave the cloistered life and do her part to make the wicked world a holier place. She refuses to live another day behind walls and threatened to escape if we refused to come for her. The Reverend Mother wrote that she wouldn’t have stopped Veronica from going as she has ‘become a constant source of vexation in recent days,’ as she put it.”
“I’m sure all the Sisters will miss of her is the generous monthly stipend we’ve paid for her support all these years,” Celeste muttered. “Marco, do you believe what we’re doing today is best for Veronica in the long run? Shouldn’t we have tried harder to discourage her from leaving?”
Marco’s look told her all she needed to know of his feelings on the matter.
“I’m not sure removing Veronica from the convent is right for any of us, but she’s forced our hand. What else can we do, Celeste?”
She pondered his question for a moment, wondering if ten years had been long enough to calm Veronica’s reckless spirit. Celeste wasn’t sure an eternity would have been enough for her proud, obstinate sister to change. Not once since the early days after Veronica entered the convent had she ever expressed a desire to leave, so the sudden insistence to go had caught them all off guard. Celeste assumed her sister would spend the rest of her life sequestered and never expected to lay eyes on her again. This was the customary way of dealing with women from respectable families who caused shame and humiliation, so she’d felt no need to question it. As much as she’d missed Veronica, she believed the convent was the best place for her.
Buried memories of those turbulent days a decade earlier surfaced unbidden in Celeste’s mind. Veronica had been married to Duccio Zani, a decent nobleman with a modest country estate. They had only recently welcomed their daughter, Elena, to the family, but Veronica was restless, immature, and dissatisfied with her life. She longed for the nightly dinner parties and glittering galas she’d enjoyed in Florence before becoming with child. Celeste had been away on an extended art exhibition tour, so her poor husband, Luciano, had been left to deal with her rebellious sister.
One fateful night, Veronica abandoned her husband and infant daughter to run off with an unscrupulous man who impregnated her, then discarded her in a country public house, many days’ ride from Florence. After working as a serving wench to earn money for her survival, she landed with a band of highwaymen who used her nightly to satisfy their lustful desires.
It was nothing short of a miracle Veronica managed to escape and make her way to Venice. Celeste and Marco nursed her to health but were left with no other choice than to exile Veronica to a convent. She’d given birth to a son there, and the Sisters graciously placed the baby with a childless Venetian couple. Celeste’s family had no knowledge of the boy’s whereabouts.
After learning of these scandalous and tragic events, Duccio vowed to kill Veronica if he ever again laid eyes on her. It was a despicable threat, but in the eyes of the law, he would have been well within his rights to carry it out. He managed to persuade the Church to grant him an annulment, thus erasing his marriage to Veronica in the eyes of God and man. With the stroke of a quill, Veronica became a person without inheritance or a family name. She was just one of hundreds of other disgraced women, hidden away in convents to do penance and live their remaining days in solitary service to God.
Once his petition was granted, Duccio promptly disowned their daughter Elena as well. Luciano willingly adopted her, and Celeste and Luciano had raised their niece as their own daughter. In the intervening years, Duccio had married a hearty but docile woman who had borne him three robust sons. Reports were she was content to live a placid life in the Florence countryside, something Veronica had been unwilling to do.
Celeste prayed Duccio had abandoned his plans to retaliate against Veronica. If not, her life could be in danger once she left the safety of the convent. Men never seemed to forget acts of infidelity committed against them, though they saw no shame with participating in those acts themselves. Celeste shook her head to banish such thoughts as they neared the convent. No point in inviting trouble where there was none.
“We can’t allow Veronica to take charge of her own fate,” she finally said. “We all remember how disastrous that was the last time. Is there no way to persuade your dear wife to let our sister live with you in Venice?”
Marco removed his cap, and a chill breeze lifted his dark curls as he shook his head. “The decision is ultimately mine, but I won’t ignore Adrianna’s wishes. She would be the one forced to cope with Veronica daily while I work long hours in the workshop. I’m seldom home before late evening, which I know you understand.”
“Perfectly,” Celeste said, smiling.
“My wife is tasked with management of a large household staff and our four young children. Our marriage has been less than blissful these past years. I’d hate to do anything that might drive a further wedge between us. I’m convinced that living in Florence under your watchful care is the best place for our sister.”
“I pray you’re right, Marco. Though many years have passed since she lived in Florence, I fear she’ll seek out acquaintances who will draw her into that old reckless life.”
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. We must see Veronica before we judge her. I am still hopeful these many years of religious influence have changed our poor sister for the better. Have you forgotten her letter that stated she plans to devote herself to aiding the poor and downtrodden? She professes to have no interest in the extravagant and wanton ways of the aristocratic class in Florence. Besides, Veronica’s former friends will want nothing to do with her after the scandal she caused.”
Celeste gave a sarcastic laugh. “Veronica has never been one to resist the lure of the wanton rich, as she calls them. Only time will show if her transformation is true and lasting. If Veronica truly means to live a humble, devout life, our zealous leader, Prior Savonarola, will find an enthusiastic new disciple in her, but my primary fear is that if she becomes embroiled in another scandal, she won’t just face the cloister. She may end up paying with her life.” Celeste gave a backhanded wave. “But enough of this talk. I’m already gloomy this morning, brother. Let’s speak of our favorite subjects, art, and our families. How is the opening of your workshop progressing?”
Marco stroked his beard. “Your Luciano makes running a workshop look effortless. I’m finding it more of the struggle.”
Celeste shook her head. “Don’t compare yourself to my husband. By the time you entered his workshop, he’d been managing it for many years. He’s told me of similar struggles he suffered in those early days. Competition among artists is fierce in Venice.”
“You know better than most that’s true everywhere. We artists tend to be sensitive and driven. That’s a challenging combination.”
Celeste chuckled at that. “Truer words were never spoken. You’re an exceptional master painter, Marco, and I couldn’t be prouder. Be patient with yourself. I have no doubt of your future success.”
“Only because I’m following in the trail you blazed. It’s a blessing that artistic talent runs in families, like with the Bellini brothers, who mentored me. Speaking of artistic families, how is Angela’s apprenticeship coming along?”
Celeste smiled fondly as she thought of the eldest of her twin daughters. Angela had shown a talent and interest for painting from an early age. Luciano had taken her on as an apprentice two years earlier. At fifteen, she was on pace to soon pass both her parents’ abilities.
Her eyes glistened as she said, “She’s a remarkable artist, far more talented than I. There’s no limit to the heights she’ll attain.”
“I find it difficult to imagine anyone with talents greater than yours, sister. You’ve always undervalued your abilities, but I’m delighted to hear of Angela’s progress. Is Cristina dealing with the situation any better?”
Celeste shrugged. “Perhaps marginally. She’s always envied the closeness between Luciano and Angela from their mutual love of art, but she’s finally coming to understand the love her father has for her. She’s also becoming a beautiful and accomplished young woman in her own right. I’m working to help her understand she doesn’t have to aspire to be an artist to have value. She’ll make an exceptional wife someday if Luciano can ever bear to part with her.”
Marco laughed, and said, “As the father of two daughters, I understand perfectly.”
“How are you finding it being the father of four darling children since the baby’s birth?”
Celeste’s anxiety lessened as Marco proudly chattered on about his two sons and two daughters. She was pleased he’d taken to fatherhood so effortlessly and hadn’t followed in the footsteps of their worthless drunkard of a papa. Hearing the contentment in his voice made her long to return to her own darlings in Florence. No matter how the world may be darkening around her, she’d always found her solace waiting to welcome her home.
When the gondola finally pulled up to the landing, Marco said, “Here we are,” then stood to help Celeste from the boat.
The coach that would carry them the rest of the way to the convent waited just beyond the landing. They settled in for the ride, but Celeste’s anxiety returned the instant the convent came into view. At the convent gate, the Sister who had answered the bell asked them to wait outside while she went to fetch their sister. Since Marco had written to inform her that Veronica wished to leave the cloister, Celeste had imagined what their reunion would be like, but she had no idea what to expect. She’d hoped to remain calm, but instead, fiddled nervously with a tassel on her belt. Veronica was thirty-four, and Celeste wondered if her appearance had altered much and how her sister would react when she saw them.
“Calm yourself, sister,” Marco said with a laugh. “It’s just Veronica.”
As she gave him a weak smile and took three long breaths, the iron gate swung inward, and the Sister stepped into the opening beside a woman Celeste hardly recognized. There was a trace of Veronica in her facial features, but beyond that, she was a stranger. Short, cropped ends of her once long and lush brown hair peeked out from beneath her coarse cap. She wore a heavy but simple light brown dress and worn black shoes. Veronica had always been the most beautiful of the two of them and their youngest sister, Bianca, and this had not changed despite her years of menial labor.
The most astounding change was in her demeanor. She gazed at Celeste and Marco in an attitude of piety and peace. Who was this woman that had replaced their haughty, defiant, and taciturn sister?
They stood staring at each other without speaking until Marco broke the silence by retrieving her canvas satchel from the Sister at the gate.
Veronica approached Celeste with her head bowed and sank to her knees on the damp ground. “I am so sorry for the pain I have caused over the years. I am eternally indebted to you and your good husband for agreeing to take me into your home, Signora. It is a kindness I will never deserve nor be able to repay. Consider me your servant from this day forth.”
Celeste continued to stare at her in stunned silence, unsure if Veronica’s behavior was pretense or if she was in earnest. She reached down and took her hands to help her to her feet. “Nonsense,” she said as she embraced her. “You are a Gabriele and my sister. You must never again speak of being my servant.”
Veronica pulled away and studied her with a look Celeste couldn’t decipher. “If that is your wish, sister.”
Marco dropped her satchel and threw his arms around Veronica. “Enough of this acting so formal and serious. It’s just us.”
Veronica nodded, then gave him a hint of a smile. Celeste noticed the Sister watching them from the gate. As they locked eyes, Celeste gave her a smile of thanks, then handed her a small bag of silver coins. “This is for your continued and devote service to the poor.”
The Sister accepted her gift and bowed solemnly before closing the gate on Veronica’s former life.
Celeste linked her arm in Veronica’s and urged her toward their carriage. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s get to the warmth of the carriage.”
As they walked, Veronica gazed in wonder at the world she hadn’t seen for more than ten years. Celeste tried to imagine how she felt as she experienced these sensations for the first time in so long, and hoped she’d soon adjust to her new life.
Celeste also wondered why Veronica was so sedate and emotionless when she was brimming with love and joy at reuniting with her sister. She did her best to draw Veronica into conversation as the carriage carried them to the waiting gondola but gave up after all she gave were one or two-word answers. It finally occurred to Celeste that her sister had likely rarely spoken while in the convent, so she left her in peace. The three of them traveled the remainder of their journey in uneasy silence.
Celeste noticed Veronica tense when the palazzo came into view, but she was glad to have arrived back at her second home. It would be a relief to have help from Marco’s family in dealing with Veronica’s transition. If Adrianna wouldn’t assist her, Celeste had an entire clan of Gabrieles to rely on.
Florence
In the pre-dawn darkness, Luciano reached for Celeste, but her side of the bed was empty and cold. Remembering she’d left for Venice ten days earlier, he frowned and rolled onto his back. After twenty years of marriage, he found it more difficult to sleep without her at his side. He was glad their separations had become far less frequent in recent years.
“Hurry back to me, my love,” he whispered as his manservant came into the room. “Morning, Filippo. What time is it?”
“Half past eight, sir,” Filippo said as he held a sealed note out to Luciano. “Messer Mancini’s page has just arrived with a letter for you.”
Luciano groaned as he reached for the letter. “Why can’t that man leave me in peace?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir. Should I bring your breakfast?”
Luciano nodded and waved him off before reluctantly unfolding the letter. Just as he expected, Mancini was requesting a meeting. Luciano’s answer to the invitation wasn’t a simple matter of replying yes or no. Messer Mancini was a leading member of the Arrabbiati, the faction most capable of removing Prior Girolamo Savonarola from power in Florence.
Luciano’s thoughts turned to the time two years earlier when Savonarola rose to become the de facto leader of their city. Most Florentines favored Savonarola with his fiery sermons and his charismatic manner. Many had been overjoyed to see him put an end to Medici rule and hoped the rise of Savonarola would usher in new golden age for their city. It didn’t take long to realize that wouldn’t be the case. He began as a pious leader, devoted to the Church, but sadly, soon transformed into a fanatical ruler. He’d formed a cadre of spies from among his young followers to root out what he deemed evil acts committed by the citizenry. The resultant political unrest had forced Luciano into a precarious position.
Forming an alliance with the Arrabbiati could put him and his family in danger of reprisals from Savonarola, but Luciano feared he’d soon have no choice. He was a god-fearing man but didn’t hold with clerics running the government. All he desired was to protect his family and reputation, manage his prosperous workshop, and paint works of beauty and truth. As a prominent Florentine nobleman, however, he couldn’t hide in his workshop forever from the growing political strife now consuming the city. The time would soon come when he would have to choose sides.
He climbed out of bed and went to his writing desk to reply to Mancini’s letter. He would meet with the man to hear what he had to say, but he’d make it clear he wasn’t committing to the Arrabbiati just yet. He hoped to be able to bide his time to see the forces play out more.
When Filippo came in with his tray, Luciano handed him the sealed note. “Is Mancini’s page waiting for a response?” When Filippo gave a quick nod, Luciano said, “Give that to the boy and tell him to deliver it directly into his master’s hand. He’s not to hand it to anyone else.”
Luciano’s gut tightened as he watched Filippo go. He’d made no promises to Mancini, but even meeting with the man was a risk. He realized he'd started down a road that could determine the course of his future. He prayed he would choose the path best for his family and the people of Florence.
Venice
Celeste held the door open to her sister’s chamber but couldn’t persuade her to cross the threshold. Veronica stood frozen, her eyes wide with terror and bewilderment. She’d been calm and gracious when she greeted Adrianna and her parents in the sala earlier and had thanked them stoically for allowing her temporary refuge. She hadn’t resisted when Celeste took her arm and led her upstairs. It was only when Celeste opened the door that she became overwhelmed by fear.
Celeste held Veronica’s cold hands in hers, and said, “What is it, sister? Nothing here will harm you. It’s perfectly safe. You are home, my dearest.”
Veronica pulled her hands free and backed away from the doorway. “No, Celeste. You’re wrong. Evil lurks in that place. I sense a malevolent presence. I cannot enter.”
Celeste stepped through the doorway and surveyed the room with her hands on her hips. She didn’t see or feel anything amiss. She was exhausted, hungry, and had no patience for whatever game Veronica was playing. “There’s nothing here. Come inside and see for yourself.”
When Veronica raised her chin and crossed her arms, Celeste saw a flash of the sister she remembered. It did not reassure her.
“I’ll not set foot in that room until you remove the vile paintings and proud adornments and remove the bed. I will sleep on the floor. I cannot countenance this vain finery.” She leaned forward and peeked around Celeste. “Where is my satchel? I wish to hang my crucifix above the bed. And please, have Marco call Father Domenico to come exorcise the room and bless it.”
Celeste gave an exasperated sigh, then marched into the hallway, nearly knocking Veronica over as she did. After calling for her longtime faithful maid, Livia, she said, “If you wanted the life of the convent, why were you so eager to leave? You know what our lives are. You can’t expect us to completely change our ways.”
Veronica stepped closer to Celeste and laid her hand on her shoulder. “I have no expectations from the rest of you. I only ask this for myself. I’ve made a vow of poverty, which I intend to honor.”
Livia appeared from around the corner and joined them in the hallway. She curtsied to Veronica, and said, “I never expected to see you again, Signora. Welcome home.”
“Please address me as Sister Veronica, and never curtsy to me. You should only bow to God.”
Livia raised an eyebrow at Celeste who just rolled her eyes. “My Mistress told me you never took your Holy Orders. Why would you wish me to call you Sister?”
“You’re correct, Livia. I am not a nun, but that was how the Sisters addressed me. I desire to continue to be addressed thus.”
Livia stared at her for a moment, clearly unsure what to say. She glanced at Celeste who gave a slight nod. This will make for an interesting conversation in my chambers tonight, she thought.
“Livia, please fetch the housekeeper and my brother Marco, then find Father Domenico.”
Livia curtsied and shot Veronica a sideways glance before hurrying off.
“It’s comforting to see somethings never change,” Veronica said as she watched Livia go. “I appreciate you taking my desires into account, Celeste. My requests appear strange to you, but I’m not the person I was. That woman is long dead. I am reborn in the image of my Lord and Master, Jesus. For that, you should be thankful, sister. It was the purpose for sequestering me after all, was it not?”
Celeste was more concerned than thankful, but she nodded to satisfy her sister and avoid an argument on her first day home. Veronica had only just arrived but was already turning their lives on their heads. What more is there to come? she wondered. She consoled herself by believing Veronica would change with the passage of time. For now, she would do her best to placate her.
“I’ll write to Luciano in the morning asking him to have your quarters prepared to your liking. Make a list of instructions.”
Veronica folded her hands and nodded. “I’ll begin as soon as I’m settled.”
Once Veronica’s room was arranged, exorcised, and blessed to her satisfaction, Celeste said, “Adrianna’s mother, Florina, is a skilled seamstress. I’ve asked her to design some simple gowns for you. She’s finished one. It’s hanging in the wardrobe. She’ll have two more finished before we leave for Florence in two days. Given your vow of poverty, I fear the gowns may be too extravagant, but I had not understood the depths of your commitment to your vows.”
Celeste opened the wardrobe, then stepped away for Veronica to inspect the gown. Veronica spread it on the bed and studied it intently for several moments before turning to face Celeste.
“This will have to suffice for now, but I only need this gown and the one I’m wearing. Have Florina give the other two to someone with a greater need than I.”
Celeste had to restrain herself from taking her sister by the shoulders and shaking her until she stopped her ridiculous charade. Her only hope was that Veronica would soon tire of the game. Until then, Celeste would be patient and play along.
“I’ll see to it,” she said softly.
Veronica gave her most pious smile. “Thank you, sister. I’ll say my prayers now before I wash for dinner.”
“Would you like me to call Livia to assist you?”
Veronica looked at Celeste as if those were the most ridiculous words she’d ever heard. “I’m perfectly capable of tending to my own needs, sister. I won’t be needing a maid in Florence, so please inform Luciano not to bother with one.”
Celeste couldn’t prevent the frustrated sigh from escaping her lips. “If that’s your wish. Dinner is in an hour.”
She hurried out, closing the door behind her before Veronica could infuriate her further. She stepped around a corner and stopped to massage her temples.
Marco spotted her in the hallway and strode toward her. “What is it now? Is our sister asking to convert a room into a monastic holy abode?”
Celeste gave a small laugh. “Not yet, but I’m sure that will happen soon after arriving in Florence. I think I prefer the old Veronica.”
Marco rested his hand on Celeste’s shoulder. “Give her time. Remember the life she’s been living. This is a challenging transition for her.”
She gave him a weary smile. “For me too, but I’m comforted that I can always count on your good heart and voice of reason. I couldn’t possibly persuade you to travel with us to help get her settled?”
It was Marco’s turn to sigh. “Adrianna would never forgive me, and I have too many obligations at the workshop. I’ll bring my family to Florence as soon as possible.”
Celeste kissed his cheek. “I’ll hold you to your word. Now, I must go change into my luxuriously vain and overly extravagant gown for dinner.”
She heard Marco’s laughter until she reached her chambers. Her comment had been meant as a joke, but she feared her troubles with Veronica were only beginning.
Celeste excused herself immediately after dinner on their final night in Venice, saying she’d need rest since they were getting an early start. The true reasons for needing to get away had nothing to do with sleep. She couldn’t tolerate another minute of Veronica’s overzealous lecturing, her adopted son, Mateo, behaving like Lord of all Venice, or the marital tension radiating off Marco and Adrianna. The strain had been building for the past two days and had reached a crescendo during the meal.
As she was rushing to her quarters, Mateo called out to her. She was tempted to pretend she hadn’t heard but knew he’d only follow her to her chambers. Luciano had insisted on Mateo traveling to Venice with her as her escort. Celeste hadn’t spent time alone with him since he was a child and hadn’t looked forward to the journey with him. Since his coming of age, she’d seen little of Mateo in Florence, which was fine with her. He was an arrogant, taciturn young man who only seemed to enjoy carousing with the sons of other Florentine nobles. Celeste had warned Luciano that if he didn’t rein the boy in, they could all face serious trouble.
Luciano had written to Marco, asking him to acquaint Mateo with the Venetian estates while they were in the city since he would one day inherit them. Marco had been patient, but Mateo treated him as no more than a servant. Celeste had scolded Mateo more than once to no avail. Marco had assured Celeste, he could handle him, but Celeste was dismayed and ashamed of her son.
She stopped in the hallway and took a deep breath before turning to face him. Feigning a smile, she said, “What is it, son?”
Mateo straightened his shoulders and crossed his arms. “I’m here to inform you I won’t be leaving with you tomorrow. I’m going to remain in Venice indefinitely.”
Celeste did her best to hide her irritation as she studied his face. Mateo’s pronouncement came as no surprise to her. He’d been hinting that he belonged in Venice, country of his birth. She had no doubt what Luciano would have to say to Mateo, but she had no authority over him beyond being his adopted mother.
She stretched to her full stature to make herself more imposing, but Mateo still towered over her. “Have you written to your father of this plan?”
“Why would I bother with that? I’m old enough to make my own choice, and he wouldn’t have received my letter in time to reply before you left.”
“I see,” she said evenly. “In that case, you must return to Florence with me and seek his permission in person.”
His facade of dominance slipped for an instant, but he didn’t back down. “I’m no child, Mamma. I don’t need Papa’s seal of approval for every action I take.”
“This is true but moving to an entirely different country isn’t just any action. It’s a momentous decision that requires thought and preparation. And your father’s permission. The mature thing would be to return to Florence and discuss it with him.”
The color rose in Mateo’s cheeks. “I won’t. I’m sure he’d approve, and what can he do from so far away if he doesn’t?”
Celeste held his gaze before deliberately saying, “Remove you as his heir.”
Her words had the desired effect. Mateo lowered his arms and backed away from her. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t dare? He would be well within his rights for such a belligerent act of defiance. Fathers have disinherited their sons for far less. Your papa may do as he pleases on the slightest whim. He’s still your Master and controls your fate.” He stared at her in stunned silence as he carefully considered her words. Luciano would never disinherit Mateo, but he wouldn’t allow such disobedience to go unpunished. For good measure, she added, “And you haven’t forgotten you promised to travel with us as chaperon for our journey. You wouldn’t allow your mother and aunt to travel alone and at the mercy of bandits, would you?”
His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine, Mamma, I’ll travel with you to Florence, but I’ll only stay long enough to speak with Papa.”
Celeste wrapped his hands in hers and gazed up with a loving smile. “You’ve made the correct choice, son. I’m proud of you.”
He pulled his hands free, then turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway. She’d become accustomed to his tantrums over the years and was unaffected by this latest one. For all his insisting he was a grown man, he’d yet to behave like one.
“This will be a long trip home,” she whispered as she hurried toward the blessed solitude of her chambers.
