Snapshot Fiction: Predator in Velvet

Golden lamp light brightened the glorious sala of the rich palazzo as if it were day. Elaborately carved gray stone surrounded the doorways of the room and dark terracotta tiles covered the floor. Trestle tables were pushed against the walls clearing the floor space for dancing and mingling of guests, each of which was as brightly and finely decorated as the rich room itself. Vinca gaped at the wealth and power in this room; the winking of gems and jewelry, the rustle and shine of expensive fabrics. Colors and textures assaulted senses that were more used to dark colors and simply woven fabrics. The heavy brocade gown she wore, which earlier seemed far too elaborate for a simple dinner party, suddenly seemed far too plain for such a gathering.

She quickly felt out of place and alone among these people and wished she had not lost sight of her sister in the crowd. Even Agneta’s familiar company, though unpleasant, would be more reassuring than walking among these strangers whom she felt so inferior to. Though part of her might distantly wish for Agneta’s company, her mother had found a cluster of other women of society in which she could insert herself and impress with her husband’s climb in status leaving Vinca to her own devices.

Sprightly music wove through the crowd and slowly drew Vinca toward the great stone fireplace on the far wall of the sala. Musicians played in front of the fireplace, the dominating feature of the room, the sound cheery and soothing and Vinca stood listening to it as she studied the enormous fireplace. Elaborate carved scenes involving lions devouring the unwary wrapped around it drawing the eye finally to the great arms of the Vettori family in the center of the mantel. Vinca trembled at the sight of the beasts and the power they signified in this city. Though it was Domenico de Marciano Vettori, the current head of the family, who protected and endorsed her father’s great works, she also realized how small an effort it would take the man to crush him and his entire family should something displease him. She had yet to meet her father’s patron but fear of him crept inexorably into her heart and set her shivering as if in a cold breeze.

“If the beasts do frighten you, perhaps you should turn your attention to the wall fountain. Great care has been given to balance the brutality of the creatures with the tenderness of nature.”

Without thought Vinca turned her attention to the wall fountain set across the corner carved from the same grey stone as the fireplace yet carefully decorated with items of gentleness and beauty. She felt a smile as she realized the hand of a woman had carefully chosen the objects displayed here to compliment yet soften the power of the fireplace. A garland of fresh flowers crept up the wall from the fountain while gently flowing sculptures sat carefully spaced on the various shelves. Vases of fresh flowers were carefully placed to complement the colors of both the fine ewer and basin displayed there and the colors of the family crest displayed smaller and less intimidating above it.

“The Lady of the house decorated that,” she said absently, but with approval.

A deep throated laugh followed her statement and she blushed, having forgotten the stranger standing nearby. “Indeed she did,” the man’s voice replied. “And I will advise her that you approve.”

Her cheeks felt hot as she dropped her gaze and bobbed her head slightly, realizing belatedly that this gentleman was somehow tied to the Vettori family. “My apologies, sir. I spoke out of turn. I meant not to pass judgment.”

“Please, you committed no offense. It will please my mother to know her work is appreciated. She has a fine hand and eye.”

The Vettori family was well known in Siena. Powerful merchants that made their money in the trade of exotic spices and fine fabrics. Vinca was unsure which of the family this man was but she knew he would be one of the more powerful members for the only one who would have decided how the sala, the most important room in the family palazzo, would be decorated would be the matron of the family and the mother of the current family head. She clenched her hands in front of her to hide the sudden trembling.

Sudden warm breath on her ear made her jump and strain to listen as he whispered to her. “Do I frighten you? I am really quite harmless you know.”

She would curse her tongue later for charging off without her, but it spoke before her mind could stop it. “No Vettori is harmless, sir.”

His warm laughter caressed her and eased her fear slightly even as her cheeks blazed at the embarrassingly bold statement she had so foolishly let slip. “I beg forgiveness, sir,” she muttered quickly. “I did not mean—“

With a chuckle he took her hand in his and turned her to face him. With a tap on her chin he tilted her face to meet his smiling gaze. Dark brown eyes set in a broad face met and held hers. Curls just as dark surrounded his face and melted into a well-trimmed beard and moustache. Though he smiled at her and she sensed no malice in his gaze she could also see the predator deep within his eyes. She suppressed the sudden shudder that tried to creep up her spine and even she could not tell if it was fear or something else.

“Do not lie. It is unbecoming. You meant what you said, and you are quite right. No Vettori is harmless when provoked but there is little such a lovely child could do to provoke the beast from its lair.” He reached out, never releasing her from his gaze and produced a delicate glass of wine which he seemed to conjure from somewhere outside her vision. He held it out to her, the gesture both gently offering and insisting and she felt he would never release her until she took it from his grasp.

“Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, finally released from the grip of his eyes when he turned to retrieve another glass for himself. She quickly averted her gaze to the dancers moving about in graceful circles and swirls of shimmering fabric in the center of the room.

“There is not need to be so formal. I give you leave to call me Domenico.”

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her glass and sipped wine into a mouth gone dry as parchment. Her father’s patron stood at her side and the wrong words spoken could destroy everything Papá had worked so hard to accomplish. Silence seemed the safest path and she took it eagerly.

To her dismay he was a patient hunter and he waited with her long into the silence, his stance seeming amused at her discomfort. When her glass was nearly empty from her nervous sipping he plucked it from her hand and replaced it with a fresh one. “It would seem you know me,” he at last said with humor in his voice. “Would you give me the pleasure of your name?”

Though pleasantly spoken she could hear the command beneath it and could not have denied it even on her best day, much less so disturbed by the events of the evening so far. “Vinca, sir.”

Contemplative silence followed and she clung to it hoping he would soon get bored with her and depart. “Girardus’ daughter,” he said finally. She nodded, though no confirmation was needed. “You do realize your father is an artistic genius. I would name his works nearly as fine as Franceso Squarcione.”

“Finer,” she said without thinking. “Squarcione has no life in his works and his colors are flat. Papá has a greater eye for contrast as well and depicts shadows where others would believe only light could live.” She clamped her mouth shut around her traitorous tongue when she glanced up and saw amusement and surprise dancing in equal measure in Domenico’s expression at her bold assessment of her father’s artistic skill.

“So he does,” he said finally. She was grateful to be free of his gaze when his attention was caught elsewhere in the room. “My apologies, lovely Vinca but I must go entertain my other guests. We will speak again before too many days have passed.” With that he took her hand and bent over it gracefully before taking his leave. She stood there trembling for several moments, her mouth dry but her throat too tight to swallow, and wondered why his last statement sounded so dangerous to her.