Snapshot Fiction: At What Price?

Motes of dust drifting through beams of golden sunlight danced and shimmered, disturbed by the passing of bodies through the loggio into the sala beyond. Vinca paused to watch them dance, her mind transforming them into daylight stars with the pale stone walls as the backdrop for their antics. Her eyes wandered over the walls and traced the intricate carvings of fanciful birds around the double door entry and across the top of the walls. She followed their flight out to where the loggio turned out into the courtyard and realized they must extend all around the wall enclosing it. She made a note to study the carvings around the courtyard closer at a later time.

The rattle of cart wheels echoed into the courtyard as their belongings arrived with a small army of hired servants. She sighed, her solitude interrupted, and carefully made her way into the palazzo. Her feet moved quietly across the warm brown stone tiles of the sala and she paused to study the frescoes high on the walls surrounding the gallery on the second floor. Only two walls were complete, and a scene of Poseidon taming the thrashing waves dominated one while the other found him surrounded by his consort, the nymph Amphitrite, and several of his hero children. She could see where the artist had ceased painting for a few lines lay against the stone roughly laying out shapes for further work. It seemed that hard times had struck the former owner of this place quite suddenly indeed.

Rushing footsteps echoed on the tiles of the balcony and Vinca looked up just as her sister thrust her head over the rail, her eyes bright with excitement. “Vinca! You must come see! One of the chambers has angels! They are beautiful! Surely the artist was touched by the hand of God! It is a small room and Agneta has said I can have it!”

Vinca smiled and waved at her sister. “I will come see shortly then. I am sure it is lovely.”

“Agneta has gone to the attic to examine the cucina and servant sleeping. I must go to her now but come find me when you have chosen your chamber. Do not choose the one with the horses, though. I believe she wishes that one for Blasio and his wife when they come.”

“I promise to come find you,” she called as she waved her sister off. With an impish grin Fina waved back and disappeared from the gallery. She could hear footsteps in the chamber to the right of the sala and thought that must be her father for she remembered him describing that room as the one he would use for his workshop. To her left dark, shining wood surrounded doorways leading into another set of rooms. Surely he had plans for those as well though she couldn’t remember what they were. Her step carried her through the sala where a door at the back of the room led to a smaller room.

From that room a set of narrow stairs led from a door in the outer wall to the second floor of rooms. The stairs were dark but she could see sunken areas in the wall where lanterns or candles could be placed to illuminate it. She turned from that to the doorway in the back wall. When she opened it the scent of greenery washed over her and she smiled, stepping eagerly into the enclosed garden.

A covered flagstone walkway surrounded the garden on all sides and she walked in its shelter for several paces admiring the architecture. The scent of lilacs just coming into bloom drifted over her and she stepped out among the greenery to examine the bushes surrounding the garden. A small fountain sat dry and forgotten in the center of the grass with four stone benches surrounding it. More benches were well placed about the area among the lilac bushes. She reached out to caress one of the branches fat with budding purple flowers. She easily imagined herself spending many hours in this garden painting and enjoying the scent of her favorite flowers.

Eventually she left the garden and returned to the sala. She could no longer hear her father in the workshop but she could hear Agneta in the courtyard giving instructions to the servants delivering their belongings. She could hear Fina’s excited murmurs somewhere on the second floor. Likely chattering happily at Pietro about her chamber.

Not ready to explore the upper levels yet, Vinca moved into the workshop. The walls were bare in this large room save for a large fireplace at one end and several tall windows covered in waxed paper. Some of the windows had been opened letting the sunlight stream freely into the room and she examined it, carefully picking out where would be the best spots to set an easel for painting. Certainly there would be plenty of room for her and Papá both to work without getting in each other’s way!

The scuff of boots on tile alerted her to someone else entering the workshop and she turned expecting to find Pietro or Papá standing there. When she found herself caught in Domenico’s gaze she started and a shudder crept up her spine. She quickly cast her gaze to the floor and curtsied to him, trying to gather her composure before speaking.

“My apologies, sir. I did not realize you were there.” Her voice cracked when she spoke and she cursed herself for her fear.

His voice echoed in the empty room making it seem that much deeper and more powerful as it washed over her. “I am sure you expected to see someone of your family instead.”

She nodded her head then heard Agneta’s voice in her head admonishing her to speak her answer. “Yes sir. I expected Papá.”

He chuckled. “I am sorry to disappoint.”

She clenched her teeth against the first answer that came into her mind, determined she would not let her mouth run amok with her again, and simply stood there in silence. Careful not to stare at him, she still heard his movements and his footsteps as he crossed the floor slowly. She could see his boots when finally he stopped, so close to her she trembled, wishing fervently for her brother or father to arrive. Even Agneta would be a comfort at this moment!

“Your father told me he would be moving his family in today. So what do you think?” She glanced up briefly as he waved his hand around indicating the palazzo. “Do you approve?”

“It is quite beautiful,” she answered quietly. On that there was no doubt and she found the answer easy to speak. Her nerves kept her voice speaking when she would have preferred to stay silent but silence around this man felt dangerous to her, like a beast waiting to pounce. “The garden is lovely and peaceful. I do enjoy lilacs. And Agneta let Fina have the angel chamber as her own.”

“That one is a lovely room. I am sure your sister was hard to deny. Though I imagine she is not the only one.”

Vinca looked up, unsure what she heard in his voice and found herself caught in his gaze. His expression seemed pleasant enough; a gentleman carrying on a simple conversation. She could feel there was something deeper prowling his thoughts and there was nothing simple about this conversation. She would need to tread very carefully.

“There are also those,” he continued, his deep voice rolling through the room, “who should not be denied.”

His words seemed ever pleasantly spoken but she thought she could hear menace beneath. Perhaps it was her imagination; foolishness dredged up by her own fear of a powerful man. It was a feeling she could not discard.

“Vinca! There you are. You must come see—“ Pietro’s voice shattered the wall of silence that had built in the room around her and Domenico and she felt it wash over her like a protective balm. She should not be alone in a room with any man, though she had taken no action to permit it, but she knew her brother would not blame her for such and would stand with her now.

He paused when he caught sight of Domenico and when he caught Vinca’s eyes she knew he could tell by her face that she was grateful for his arrival. In an instant she saw her smiling brother transform to fierce protector and he focused his gaze on the man he now saw as a threat to his sister. Three long strides put him between Vinca and Domenico and he faced the man boldly.

“My apologies, sir,” he said as calmly as she had ever heard her brother speak, “We have just this day begun moving in and have no one to announce your presence. I am Pietro di Girardus Taviani, and who might I be addressing?”

Vinca dared a glance at Domenico around her brother’s broad back and saw a flicker of anger flit across his face when he met her gaze. When he turned his attention back to Pietro she saw the muscles in his jaw tighten and he spoke calmly to her brother with effort. “Domenico di Marciano Vettori.” She heard the slight emphasis on his family name and realized he must often use that to cow others who might challenge him. The brother she remembered before he traveled to Florence would have accepted the challenge and pushed back gleefully. She wondered if the man he had become would be a bit more circumspect in his dealings with those of power.

“Ah yes, father’s patron. How good of you to visit us on this happy day.” The words were proper and pleasantly spoken and no fault could be found in his manner, but anyone who knew Pietro as well as she did would hear the subtle disapproval buried deep within.

She saw Domenico’s eyes narrow as he sifted through the words seeking the insult he knew to be hidden somewhere. Her brother had spoken carefully however and after a moment he responded. “How glad I am your family is pleased with this humble dwelling. I could not, in good conscience, have my artist living in squalor, now could I? I was just discussing such with your sister.”

Vinca felt her throat close up and her mouth turn dry as ash. Domenico owned this palazzo and allowed Papá to move his family in. The way he described her father as “his” artist set her teeth on edge and she knew that he would not hesitate to claim a price for this palazzo that would be impossible for them to meet. As she suspected, it would be too high. She saw her brother’s back muscles tense at the words but his tone stayed pleasant and amiable.

“How kind of you, sir! Indeed the family is most grateful! But surely a man of your fine standing must understand that to be alone in the company of my sister could be misconstrued as impropriety and it would be dreadful to have the reputation of a man of such import questioned!” Domenico studied her brother carefully, a tic forming in his cheek. She knew he had understood the implied accusation of impropriety on his part in approaching her without her chaperone present. Pietro had become skilled with his manner in his time in Florence, however and his tone and posture belied no overt insult.

She could feel something building in the silence, like the feeling she often got back in Piombino right before a storm came sweeping in from the sea to crash down on the small town. Desperately she wanted to reach out to Pietro and draw him back from the confrontation growing in the room but she feared any movement she made might shatter the thin veil of civility both men still clung to.

Domenico caught her gaze once more and his face relaxed into that pleasant smile she had seen before. “Of course, you are right.” His gaze turned back on her brother and while Pietro did not react, she could see the rage of a man thwarted deep in Domenico’s eyes. Her brother had made a powerful enemy this day and she feared for him and the family both.

“Domenico! How good to see you, sir! Welcome, welcome!” Girardus entered at that moment, a smile as Vinca had never seen splitting his craggy face. Splotches of paint showed on his vest and pants though she knew he had touched no paint today. She suspected he did not have a single piece of clothing that wasn’t splattered or smeared with the signs of his art. Despite the tension still lingering in the room she smiled for her father, pleased whenever he was happy. She could brood later about the price of such joy.

“Girardus. Good to see you settling in so well. I hope it meets with your approval.” In that instant Vinca saw Domenico transform from predator to patron and it occurred to her that no matter what she or her brother saw, this was the only face their father would ever see; generous and kind patron. As the men spoke, she studied them and understood that Domenico did believe her father an artistic genius and truly held him in high regard. She did not delude herself in thinking that would prevent him from doing whatever he felt necessary to achieve what he wanted, however. It was a balm to know, though, that he really did appreciate Papá’s art.

“Ah, your generosity is far too great to one so unworthy as myself, sir,” her father bowed slightly to his patron as he spoke, his tone and posture carrying nothing but the greatest respect for the man before him. “I can rest easy at night knowing my family is comfortable and safe in such a fine home! Come! I believe I can scare up some wine for you and I will tell you of the feast my wife plans to celebrate this fine occasion. And I hope you will grace us as the guest of honor!”

Vinca did not hear his response for they walked from the room and Pietro immediately turned to her and grasped her shoulders, a bevy of emotions, none of them pleasant, flashing across his face. She grasped his arms, panicked to think he would believe she had invited the encounter. “Pietro, you must believe me! I have done nothing! I was alone and he came in! I did nothing!”

“Shhh…. Hush sister,” he said quietly and wrapped her in his strong arms. “I believe you. The predator needs no invitation to hunt. But do not doubt he is a predator.” Pietro stepped back and held her at arms length his green eyes full of concern. “He is dangerous. Surely you can tell that as well as I can. Be wary of him.”

She nodded. She had no response, for her own thoughts echoed Pietro’s since the first night she had met Domenico at the party.

He sighed and she could feel some of the tension drain out of him. “Come then, little sister. I will go upstairs with you and help you pick out a chamber of your own. There is one right next to Fina’s that I believe you may find to your liking. With… flowers and womanly things on the walls.”

Vinca wrinkled her nose and he smiled. He knew well she was not fond of paintings of flowers or other “womanly things” as he called them but she took his offer of escort seriously. “Be careful or I will make you help me pick out which curtains of lace to hang upon the windows.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm about her shoulders to lead her from the workshop. She found his strength comforting and a much needed balm after her encounter with Domenico.