Snapshot Fiction: A Brother Returned

Cries of joy and laughter mixed with running steps to echo through the casa as both Vinca and Fina raced from the cucina on the second floor to the sala below. The simple rattle of a cart and a call from outside set them on their mad dash to the front of their home to greet the new arrival who stood so calmly in the doorway.

“He’s here!” “Pietro!” Their cries washed over each other and the smiling man standing there waiting as they rushed into his arms. He staggered only slightly as both young women collided with him, catching him in a fierce hug. Amid laughter he kissed their hair and held them close as they each rushed to give him a dozen heartfelt greetings at once.

“Sisters, please! I cannot understand a bit of your nattering and I fear you may crush my chest!” He laughed as he spoke over their excited voices and the girls reluctantly stepped back, each taking one of his hands.

“You’re here! You’re finally here! It has been so long! We have so many tales to tell and so many things to show you!” Fina’s cheeks lit up a lovely pink in her excitement and Vinca smiled, letting her younger sister have Pietro’s attention first. “You are arrived just in time to move into the palazzo with us! Papa says it is beautiful beyond imagining! We have not seen it yet but it must be glorious!”

Pietro laughed and squeezed Fina’s hand. “Yes, I know of the palazzo. It sounds lovely.” He cast a knowing glance at Vinca which she understood he wanted to discuss the matter privately with her. “I am pleased we have been graced with such a magnificent home.”

“We are preparing a feast for you as well! Anna knew you would be here today! We will have capons and boar and fruits and that special sweet bread of hers that you like so much! She has taught me to make it.” Vinca began to wonder if her sister would take a breath in her excitement to report everything to Pietro now that he had arrived.

“Fina! Child get back to the cucina! You forgot about the capons!” Anna’s call startled the girls and Fina stopped her excited chatter. “Coming Anna!” She gave Pietro a quick kiss on the cheek before dashing out of the receiving room.

“Still as full of energy as ever I see,” Pietro commented. He tugged Vinca to the side as what seemed like a small army of bodies paraded through carrying boxes and trunks of his belongings. “Be careful of that big one. It has the gifts for my sisters in it.” He winked broadly at Vinca and pulled her further into the sala.

She smiled and held his hand firmly following him to the large trestle table where the family took meals. “You did not need to bring gifts,” she said as she carefully arranged her skirts on the rough wooden bench. “Everyone is just so excited you are returned to us.”

“Of course I could not return without gifts for my sisters! Though I must admit, your gift is a fair bit simpler than Fina’s. Sadly all I could find for you was a set of sable brushes. They had nothing more exciting!”

“Oh Pietro! Sable brushes of my own?” She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you so much! Brushes that I do not have to borrow from Papa!”

She had forgotten how safe she felt in her brother’s arms and they just held each other for several moments. “You see? I might have been gone but I did not forget you.”

She sat up suddenly and clutched at his hand. “Oh Pietro, I know you would never forget us.” The sadness in his eyes when he held her hand in both his callused ones confused and frightened her. “Pietro, what is wrong?”

“My sweet sister. I cannot apologize enough for being away from you during your time of sorrow. It has hurt me for so long and I hope you can forgive me.”

Vinca felt tears creep into her eyes as the wound of her lost husband began to ache anew. Not until this moment had she realized how much she missed her brother during that time. Growing up she had always been closest to Pietro of all of her brothers; he was her guardian, her strength and her friend. She knew his journey to Florence had been important for him to learn matters of business he could not learn in a town so small as Piombino, and she never begrudged him not being there for her. She could now admit, however, that not having him there had hurt a great deal.

“Oh Pietro, I know why you could not be there. I cannot forgive you for there is nothing to forgive! You did no wrong.” She wrapped her arms around him again and huddled against his chest. “I am well and strong! All is fine and now you are returned to us! You must tell me all the fantastic things you saw in Florence.”

“Truly you are well then?” He leaned back and tilted her face up to look at him and carefully wiped the single tear that had escaped from her cheek.

She smiled though she could not keep all of her sadness from it or her voice. “Truly. The pain will always be there but I bear it better each day.”

He nodded in acceptance and patted her hand. “Very well. I will take comfort in the knowing that I am here to watch over both of my sisters now.” He frowned then and looked around the sala taking in the details. Vinca knew his green eyes missed nothing from the warped wood of the window frames to the cracked and broken floor tiles. Stains down one wall told tale of a leak in the roof that had yet to be successfully repaired. He shook his head. “So you must help me to understand. I see this casa and know there are things that are due to be repaired but it otherwise seems sound. A very suitable place to live. You help father with his ledgers. Has he really done so well with his work to afford such?”

Vinca took several moments to compose her thoughts for she did not expect her brother to echo her concerns so quickly upon his arrival. She did have access to her father’s accounts and while he was doing better than they ever could have hoped in Piombino, by her figuring it wasn’t enough for such a grand residence. She would never speak ill of Papa and tried to present her thoughts as gently as possible. “Papa does not discuss the palazzo with me,” she said slowly, forming her words with great care. “I have found that it was not so long ago this property was reclaimed by a lender for a great debt. A business man had poor luck with some imports and he was unable to meet his debts. Certainly it is not so grand as some in Siena.”

Pietro sighed and she saw the wrinkle form between his brows that always appeared when he was deep in though. “I can tell a great deal about your thoughts by the way you dance about, my sister. You know you have never needed to hedge your words with me. Speak clearly. Father has not done so well to afford this home, has he?”

She shook her head. “He will not discuss it, Pietro, but I know his accounts better than he does. We thrive and prosper because of his great works. We sell more of his paintings each day and he has been contacted by three prominent families for portraits. Why the advance given to him by Vettori was astounding. More silver than we’ve ever seen!”

“But not enough,” the furrow in his brow deepened and Pietro stood to pace the space in front of the bench.

“It is more than that, Pietro,” Vinca continued. “There has been no great spending. He has put out nothing for the palazzo that I can find. It is as if…as if it is a payment for something but what could Papa offer to be worth that and will it prove to be an expense too great for the family to bear? I mean no disrespect for Papa but he is not always wise in the ways of business. I fear for the family.”

“I will talk with father. You need not worry about it further.” He took her hands and pulled her up from the bench. “I will help tend his business now that I am here and when Blasio comes from Piombino he will be well suited to it as well.”

She chuckled and hugged him, resting her cheek on his chest and taking comfort from him. “I am concerned about the price of such grandness and I am very glad you are returned to us to help with such matters. I have no wit for such matters and a woman has no place in such things.”

He poked her in the side like he used to do when they were children causing her to squeak and pull away. “You parrot Agneta. Regardless of your sex you have more wit and wisdom than many men. I will not hear you debase yourself such.” His grin was mischievous and he tapped her on the tip of her nose with a single finger, something else he had done since they were both children. “Now, you do realize I cannot tell you my tales of Florence.”

“Why not?”

He took her hand again, pulling her after him with a smile. “Because if I do not share the tale with Fina as well she will have a fit as never before seen! Come, let’s go find her and I’ll tell you both of my adventures.”

Like children once more they rushed through the casa with laughter and raucous footsteps to find their sister and snatch her from the cucina to the wailing dismay of Anna.

Snapshot Fiction: Intrigue of the Dance

(Due to an unforeseen interference, this part should occur right after Predator in Velvet and right before Letter to Francesca from Vinca – III)

The first servant that passed found Vinca’s half-full wineglass deposited on his tray. She had lost her stomach for wine; the liquid turning sour in her mouth. Despite her differences with Agneta she cast her gaze around anxiously for her. With that formidable woman watching and judging her every move, nobody, including Domenico, would approach Vinca with even the slightest hint of impropriety. At least that was what Vinca hoped. Though how much Agneta watched over her daughter now that she was no longer a maid was debatable.

A cluster of finely dressed ladies near a corner of the dancing caught her eye and she felt surely that if Agneta were anywhere, it would be among those women. Catching up her heavy skirt in one hand she carefully began to make her way around the floor toward the women. Surely there was safety in numbers.

She gasped in alarm when someone grabbed up her hand and she snatched it back without thinking. When she turned she found herself staring into smiling blue eyes surrounded by unruly locks of light brown hair. The boy (for she could hardly think he was a man; he was barely older than she!) bowed elegantly to her before reaching for her hand again.

“My apologies if I startled you, dear lady. I beg your assistance, however and I fear there are no others that could aid me.”

She pulled her hand closer to her and took half a step away from him, preventing him from taking it again. Though she realized the movement was quite impolite, she felt it inappropriate to allow him to claim her hand so blatantly. “Ask your favor but I doubt I can aid in any way.”

“Ah sweet lady, if you cannot help me then I fear there is no help to be found! Please though, forgive my lack of manners and my forward ways for I am uncivilized in the ways of Siena. I am Marin da Venice, a lowly musician traveling to study my art. Alas I find myself here and have earned a rest to take joy in a dance or two, yet no gentle lady to dance with. Please would you grace me with your presence and join me in the dance?” His smile was engaging and much as she tried to maintain her distance, she found him rather charming.

“Your tongue is not so gilded as you may think, sir. And in fact your attempt at flattery is rather clumsy.”

His smile broadened and he stepped closer, reaching his hand palm up out to her, waiting patiently for her to take it. “Ah but you will dance with me.”

“Your confidence is quite astounding that you do know what I will do before even I know. Pray tell how you manage such a feat.” She tried to keep the smile out of her voice but found the exchange rather entertaining.

“Because I can tell when I gaze into your eyes you have a soul as kind as the Madonna herself and would not leave one so humble as myself begging the favor of your company. And if you would grace me just one dance I would be content for the rest of the evening and be free of burden and able to return to my lute.”

She carefully placed her hand in his and let him lead her to where the sala had been cleared for dancing. Thick calluses on his fingers felt strange against her hand and she fascinated over the feel of them. “So only for the evening?” She said as he twirled her into place behind another couple.

He laughed, the sound warm and comfortable and leaned in to reply for her ears alone, “I fear if I claimed any longer, you would not believe that a dance with you could satisfy a man’s need for more, though the statement would be true.”

She blushed at the bold innuendo of his words and made no response as the music, and thus, the dance began.

Though often she lamented her own skill in the dance, she found his smile and encouragement a balm to her nerves which made the dance seem to flow easily for her this time. He led with grace and skill and seemed not in the slightest disturbed by a misstep or two. The dance was too lively for conversation, however he occasionally made some bawdy observance about other dancers that he whispered in her ear and nearly distracted her from her steps more than once. She knew by the end her cheeks were aflame with her efforts to suppress her laughter. “You should not be so disrespectful,” she whispered urgently to him as he led her from the dance. She tried to sound stern but knew she could not contain her amusement. “Many of these people are very influential and prominent. They could make things difficult for you.”

His impish grin told her he had not a bit of remorse and was quite used to playing such games. “Should they turn on me, then I shall simply return to Venice. Which is my intent before the winter comes again anyway. And I doubt there are many here whose influence reaches so far. Sadly, though, I must depart you and return to my duties at the lute. My master calls for me and I must go take my place.” He bowed gracefully over her hand and departed with every evidence of reluctance though Vinca suspected it was more show than truth.

She watched him return to where the musicians performed and take the place of another young man who surreptitiously slipped from the room. He noticed her watching him and winked broadly at her before he focused on the music before him. Curiosity held her attention on him as his long fingers flew over the strings of the lute. From there her gaze wandered to study his form and it occurred to her that had she studied him before dancing with him she never would have believed him capable of such grace. He was long of leg and body and seemed as ungainly as a young colt. His face mirrored his body, long and narrow and came to a point at his prominent chin. The dimple on that chin was echoed on his cheeks when he smiled and his blue eyes sparkled from deep set eyes. She realized he was not terribly handsome as most would interpret it but his face had such mobility and character to it she suddenly had the urge to capture it with paint. Certainly inviting him to sit for her would never be possible but she continued to study him hoping to catch each detail in her mind to attempt to paint him from memory.

A shimmering flash of red drew her to the dancers and she caught sight of Fina just as the dance ended and her partner led her from the area. Vinca frowned at how close he stood to her younger sister and enclosed her hand in his own. If Agneta were to see such familiarity she would most certainly not be happy.

As if the thought summoned the woman she suddenly appeared next to Fina. Vinca could not hear what was said but the man stepped back and Fina immediately pulled her hand away from him. Agneta took her by the wrist and turned toward Vinca, nearly dragging the younger woman along.

“The wine is flowing freely now. It is time to depart.” She threw a raking glance at Fina. “Before someone does something foolish.”

Vinca did not argue and fell in step with her sister. Anna caught up with them as they departed the Palazzo and began the walk home in the waning light of evening.

Letter to Francesca from Vinca - III

To Francesca de Savona

My dearest cousin Francesca, so much has happened since last I wrote to you I hardly know where to begin! I am sure you have heard that Fina’s engagement was dissolved. My poor sister was devastated and I have spent many long hours comforting her. Some days she does seem more her normal, bright self while others she still sinks into despondency and I am lost as how to ease her. On such days even our dance lessons do not bring her out of her sorrow and you know how she loves to dance!

Recently we attended a party with Papá and Agneta and seeing her dance there with the gentlemen and seeing the way her face lit up I thought perhaps the last of her wounds had at last healed but since I am still unsure.

I wish you could have been here for that party! It was as fine and glorious as any I had ever seen! I wondered that those who enforce the sumptuary laws did not intrude upon it! Perhaps though it was not so glorious as that and just seemed that way to my simple self for I have never seen or been so close to such riches. Agneta certainly seemed within her element. I am unsure what happened to Fina. She did manage to slip the leash of her chaperone early and I saw her only briefly in the dance later in the evening but did not see her again until Anna collected us both to return home. She always did have greater skill at escaping her chaperones than I did! Agneta made sure we left before the wine flowed too freely, leading normally wise men to engage in dishonorable actions.

During the evening when the music played so fine and the room was warm and smelled of fruit and fresh flowers and expensive scented oils I finally met Papá’s patron. My dear cousin, I must admit to someone my fear. Never have I met anyone so formidable and fearsome and even just the thought of him makes my hands tremble and my heart race. I had heard stories of Domenico de Marciano Vettori but nothing could prepare me for meeting him face to face. I had understood he was young as the head of his family for his father had passed into the grace of God suddenly and quite unexpectedly. Sir Domenico Vettori has proven to be as ruthless as his father with as much skill in business, if not more. Though he terrified me I find I cannot sleep at night without visions of his eyes dancing through my dreams. I find the image frightening and yet more. Fortunately I have not seen him again, even in passing, since that night and I expect my own fears continue to conjure him in my mind. I expect soon I will forget I have ever met him and my dreams will be my own again.

So much has happened so fast since coming to the city. Within days of that glorious party Papá came to us with news that we were to move into a new home! A glorious palazzo south in the city with a glorious view of Duomo di Siena! Papá has told us stories of the beauty of it with its courtyard and garden. He is the only one who has seen it yet but within days men will come with carts to move our possessions from this humble casa to the new home. Papá says there are rooms like we have never seen and Agneta insists that Fina and I will each have our own. I am not sure I will be able to sleep without Fina there to talk with in the darkness. Save for while I was married to my Simon we have ever shared a room.

What I find myself wondering though is the manner in which Papá has come to this fine palazzo. He does not discuss it and I am privy to his books and ledgers and while the gifts and pay he has received for his paintings, both new and those he had sequestered away from before we moved to Siena, have been most generous and more than our family has ever seen before, by my calculations it is not enough to afford such a great home in so short a time. While doing his ledgers I did query him but he grew garrulous and merely stated that God had been most gracious to us.

I did not question him further for it is his business and nothing a mere woman should be involved in, but at night I sometimes wonder and worry about what price may come from such grandness later.

Oh but I will not let such thoughts darken this letter any longer for I have wonderful news! At last brother Pietro has arrived home! Such a great feast was held here that by the end we had all been stuffed so full of game and exotic fruits that few were able to dance afterward! I have never seen Papá spend so much on wine. Though Agneta was distressed that the sala was too small to invite all the guests she wanted. I suspect she was more interested in the daughters those guests would bring to introduce to handsome Pietro now that he is considered a much more respectable husband than he would have been even a year ago. Papá has promised her another celebration nearly as grand when we have settled into the palazzo. I find it strange that I even look forward to it.

We have received letters from Blasio as well that he will move his office to Siena now and bring his wife and son to live at the palazzo. I never got on as well with Blasio but it will be good to have him to help Papá with his ledgers for I am such a simple woman I should not have my nose in the business of men.

The hour grows late now and I find myself wearying. Fina already rests; her breathing content and even. I wonder if I will be able to rest as well when I join her.

Your loving cousin, Vinca

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.

Letter to Vinca from Fina - I

To Vinca Taviani

My loving sister, I was much distressed to hear your sad news. I know you miss your dear Simon with all of your heart, mind, body, and soul. He was taken from this earth far too soon. I am sure Maria is grieving for her son, and hope that she does not mistreat you. I pray that God heals your pain and makes you strong once again.

I do worry about you so. I would visit you, but father needs me here to manage the estate while he creates yet another of his masterpieces. You know how he gets when he is working on his art. I do wish you would return home. You are the only one who can reason with him. He never listens to me. You know there is a place for you here, and I miss you a great deal.

Ever since Lorenzo broke off our engagement and left for Rome, I have stayed close to home. I just can not bear all the whispers and stares. I feel like an outcast in society. I do long for our conversations about men, fashion, and dancing. There is a ball in a fortnight and I do so want to go. I dare not brave it alone. You know father has no interest in society functions. He is perfectly content in his humble studio.

My dearest sister, please return to me. I believe we need each other now more than ever.

- Fina Taviani

Note to the Readers

Gentle readers,

As you read through these postings, on occasion you may notice an inconsistency or two. Perhaps a few more. That is because our storytelling is much more fluid than any carefully crafted novel might be. We are learning as we go along, planning and plotting and learning how best we work together. There may be minor changes as we learn more about the time period, our personas or even about our own writing style. None of us are professional so we beg your kind indulgence in these minor adjustments as we continue with our story.

As an aside, we do appreciate comments. It helps us to grow as writers.

~The Ladies of Renaissance Wenches

Cast of Characters So Far

What started as a simple writing exercise between myself and a friend in the UK has grown to something more. So far four women now contribute to this growing story. I hope the readers find it as interesting to read as we do to write.

So far there have been several introductions and mentions of characters and it might be a little confusing so I’ll try to clarify some of that here.

Vinca Taviani – A young widow living in Siena, Italy with her father, mother, sister and other family members.

Fina Taviani – Vinca’s younger sister who was recently betrothed until the engagement was called off.

Francesca De Savona – Cousin to Vinca and Fina. A widow and courtesan living in Venice.

Lady Rebecca Cecini – Friend to Vinca and Fina. Met the young women while traveling through Italy with her father, she now resides and studies in China with him.

Master Guillaume – Vinca and Fina’s dance tutor.

Blasio – Vinca and Fina’s oldest brother.

Pietro – Vinca and Fina’s older brother who recently moved back in with the family from Piombino.

Girardus Taviani – The father of the family. Girardus is an artist who moved his family to Siena when his fortune turned for the better. He is a progressive thinker and rather indulgent of his daughters.

Agneta – The mother of the family. Vinca and Agneta have a tumultuous relationship.

Anna – Sister to Giarardus. An older widow. Kind and loving but very proper in her thinking. She also resides in the Taviani casa.

Simon – Vinca’s deceased husband. Died just over a year after they were wed of typhoid fever.

Lorenzo – Fina’s former fiance’. Her engagement to him was recently called off.

Snapshot Fiction: Preparing to Dance

“Blessed Mary, Mother of Jesus! Anna! I cannot breathe!” Vinca flinched when a wizened hand struck her firmly against the back of her head.

“Do not take the Mother’s name in vain, child!” A few tugs of lacing and Vinca felt the pinch of the bodice loosen its grip from her ribs. “It is because you are more generous of figure than your sister. If you had not spilled wine upon your other dress you would not have to borrow from your sister’s wardrobe. Tch. What are we to do with you child?”

Vinca squeaked one last time as Anna tugged the final lacing into place and knotted it firmly. With a sigh and a shake of her head she stepped away from her aunt and smoothed the heavy brocade skirt and moved to sit in front of the small dressing desk in the room she shared with her sister. “Anna, I did not even wish to go to this gathering. Papá does not need me there. Why do I have to go?”

The older woman threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. “Gracious Father, grant me strength! Vinca, child, it is good for you to attend these affairs to meet the sons of those men of power and money that come to meet your papá. It would be good for you to find another husband. You are still young enough to have children and there is no greater path for a woman than to be married and grace her husband with fine, strong children!”

“You sound like Agneta! OW!” Anna tugged on the braid she was plaiting into Vinca’s dark hair warning her to still her tongue. “It is true,” she muttered, chastised only mildly. “I am no burden. I have my dowry and the few gifts my Simon gave to me. I still mourn him and cannot bear the thought of allowing any other man into my heart.”

“Hmf! It has been nearly a year since the death of your husband and you do not need to allow another in your heart, only your bed!”

“Anna!” Vinca felt her face grow warm and fidgeted with the ribbon trailing from her sleeve to cover her embarrassment at her aunt’s bold statement.

The older woman sighed and shook her head, still carefully braiding Vinca’s thick hair into an elaborate crown. Her voice was low and gentle when she spoke. “Child, you seem to think marriage is about love. You were lucky with your papá’s choice of Simon. It is rare indeed to love the man who shares your wedding bed. It was a sad day for all when he was taken away. You will be into your nineteenth year soon. Nearly too old to find another husband for. You should respect your parents’ wishes and find another. Your father is a star upon the rise in Siena. Now your potential choices are much better.”

“Yes, Aunt. I will consider it.” Vinca grit her teeth around the lie and waited patiently for the ribbons and pearls to be tucked, bound and braided into her hair in the ensuing silence. When Anna proclaimed her properly dressed and coifed she left the room with firm instructions that she not rumple her dress or fuss with her hair lest she foul it. Vinca agreed meekly and remained seated where she was, in no hurry to leave the room.

Moments later the door creaked open and Fina crept in wearing a gown more elaborate than the borrowed one her older sister wore. Curls so dark a shade of brown they looked black in the dim light tumbled around her face from a mass of twined braids that looked like something straight out of a fanciful painting. Vinca smiled and reached a hand out to her sister as she rose from her seat.

Fina took it with a smile and did a quick sweeping glance over the blue brocade firmly hugging Vinca’s ample frame. “It is a little snug.”

A crooked smile set both young women to giggling. Fina pointed at the cleavage peeking from beneath the pearled edge of Vinca’s camicia. “At least you won’t have to worry about making effort to hold anyone’s attention.”

“I don’t want any attention,” Vinca stated emphatically with a disgusted sigh and dropped her hands against the folds of her skirt. “I would much prefer to stay home, sequestered in our room, with a book or a paint brush!”

“Yes,” Fina sat upon the edge of the bed and drew a handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at suddenly moist eyes. “Agneta reminded me yet again of my duty as a woman.”

Vinca sat on the bed next to her sister and wrapped her arms around her, cradling her gently. “Oh, sweet Fina. I know how hurt you were when your engagement to Lorenzo was broken. I understand how full your heart was for him and how eager you were to be wed. I do not believe it was Lorenzo’s decision but instead his father’s and I also do not believe it had anything to do with you. I believe his father has his eyes on Benvenuta de Parma’s dowry! Come now, dry your eyes or Agneta will fuss about them being reddened and puffy and make you pack them with vegetables. We will go to this gathering and dance, you and I, and have nothing to do with the fellows they parade before us. We will smile and sip wine and pretend no others in the world exist and leave behind our sorrows for one evening.”

Fina wiped her eyes and offered a forced smile to her sister who accepted it with a kiss on her cheek. “That is better. Come now, let us be off before Agneta comes searching for us. If you are especially gracious I will tell you the story about what Mistress Anthonia wears beneath her overskirt!”

Fina gasped and tugged excitedly at her sister’s sleeve as they left the room. “What? You must tell me. Is it scandalous?”

The door closed behind them muffling their hurried whispers as they moved through the casa.

Letter to Fina from Vinca - I

To Fina Taviani

My dearest sister I find myself unsure what to write to you from this darkened state into which I have fallen. My Simon is barely cold within his grave and Maria has strongly suggested I return to my family. She does not wish such as I in her palazzo. I knew she did not approve of my marriage to her son but my Simon would not be denied. Now my strength has passed from this world and been carried into the embrace of God.

With his passing I feel as if my very chest is such a gaping wound that to look upon it would cause the strongest men to weep in pity. I feel empty and lost. I know Agneta will not approve of the news that I will return to the casa. I find I have so little energy to dredge up concern for her cares in this matter however.

I have spent days wondering if there is a place for me anywhere now that my Simon is stolen from me by the cruel and merciless Fates. Would that I could convince Atropos to sever my thread and leave that of my beloved I would. She is as implacable as her name, however, and would never heed the grieving words of mother, sister or wife.

More than one dark night have I sat upon the bed we shared clutching dagger to my breast convinced I might follow him beyond this place. More than once the tip his rested upon pale skin above my heart. I am, I fear, a coward. I cannot bring myself to force that thin blade into the final plunge through pale skin. And would it not condemn me to Hell for my sin? Is it not a sin against God to take a life, even one’s own? It is that fear that stops me. I cannot bear the thought that my despondency will be the final step that will keep me for eternity from my beloved for I know he has been drawn into the embrace of God to walk eternally in sunlit gardens.

Will he remember me when at last I am freed from this shell to join him? I must believe he will for I could not bear to think otherwise. If I believed otherwise then what point would there be to not being cast into the depths? For to look upon his beautiful face and have him look through me, not seeing who I am and the depth of my love for him, would shatter a soul already so vastly damaged.

~Vinca

Snapshot Fiction: Widowed

Vinca breathed deeply the scent of flowers blooming in the warm spring air. Just for a moment she could leave behind the odor of sickness permeating the casa she shared with her husband and his family. When she sat upon the ornate stone bench in the garden the coldness of the stone seeped quickly through the heavy layers of her gown reminding her that the night hours in Piombino were still cold with winter’s chill. She breathed deeply hoping to ease some of the tightness of her chest and closed her eyes to the bright beauty of the garden wishing it would help wash away the exhaustion and despair coiled around her mind and body. Only the footsteps of a few servants echoed through the casa making it seem empty of life save herself and the man who lay ill in the bed upstairs. It was nearly empty since Bianca had convinced her husband to take her and their children to the country casa, leaving Vinca and only two servants alone to care for her ailing husband.

Tears trickled down her face leaving cold trails on her skin. The physician would do no more for Simon. When last she called for him, instead the priest came to take confession and pray for him. The fever had since taken his mind. Even the servants would not enter the room with Simon any longer. They made signs of warding whenever they passed the room he lay in. His cries and visions did indeed sometimes seem more demonic than madness but she knew her Simon was not capable of such evil. It was the fever. She would believe that and not abandon him. She alone would enter his room when he screamed and thrashed about. She was the only one that would wipe his sweaty brow or change his soiled linens.

Despite the physician’s orders to keep the windows closed to keep out vile spirits, she found she could do that no longer. The waxed-paper covered frames were opened fully today to allow the breeze to scour away some of the smell of the sickness. Surely there could be no greater evil that could come in through those windows than what had already claimed her beloved husband.

She stifled a sob and rose from the bench when she heard his echoing cries echo from the casa. She turned to find the young cucina girl rushing through the doorway.

“Mistress! He calls for you!” She grasped Vinca’s hand and pulled her frantically toward the casa. “He is trying to leave the bed!”

The girl forgotten, Vinca gathered her skirts in both hands and rushed through the casa to the stairs leading up to the small room she and her husband shared. The smell of fouled sheets struck her harshly and she found her husband’s sweating and struggling form on the floor beside the bed. With a stifled sob she hurried to his side.

“Simon!” His hand grabbed her harshly when she knelt beside him. His eyes cleared for a moment when she yelped from the pain.

“Vinca. My beautiful flower. You must never leave me.” Blood dripped from his nose and she could see the red patches of his skin that had developed days ago had spread up his chest to his neck. His skin burned with fever still, as it had since he first began to feel the illness.

“I will not leave you, I promise.” Her declaration seemed to calm him some and he released his bruising grip on her arm. With her hand freed she reached for the cloth she kept in the basin of cool water next to the bed. She used it to gently wipe the blood from his face. She could feel on his skin that his fever had increased. He continued to mutter her name as she used a clean cloth to wipe his brow and cool his skin. When she laid him on a pillow on the floor the fact that he did not struggle told her that he was weakening further. She choked on a sob and brushed her hand over his damp, black hair before she moved to strip the soiled bedding again. Days ago she had begun folding a single sheet and placing it under him to help preserve the rest of the bed but today the flux was more severe than any other day.

She dragged the linens to the doorway for the servants to collect and wash and quickly made up where he slept with a fresh set. It took several moments of work and gentle words but eventually she was able to help him back into his bed. Tears choked her as she comforted him while he whimpered and mumbled. She wet her cloth and gently wiped his face again praying gently.

“Vinca,” his voice was so quiet now she struggled to hear him.

“I am here, beloved. You must rest.”

He grabbed her hand and gripped it hard enough to bruise. “Vinca, I see Him. Our Lord and Savior and He beckons to me!”

Struck with fear she wrenched her hand from his grip and shook him by the shoulders. “No! No you must not go!” Tears streamed down her face.

He turned to face her and smiled softly. “No, of course. I will stay with you.” Weakly he pulled her hand to him and kissed it tenderly. “We must go to the festival.” His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed into the pillow. Fear gripped her suddenly and she laid her head on his chest. She sobbed in relief to hear his heart still beating and his lungs drawing breath. She lay there until the sun left the sky. Exhausted from the day she stretched out next to him and rested against him, simply listening to his breathing. Darkness crept up on her, cradling her into slumber, cursing her to sleep through his last breath.

Letter to Rebecca from Vinca - II

To Lady Rebecca Cecini

To my dearest friend Rebecca, how it lifted my heart to receive your letter. Glad I am that you reached your destination and that you so enjoy it there. Since you left the casa has been bustling with activity! Papá's work has become quite well known in Siena and there seems to be a constant flow of important guests to see him or ladies to visit with Agneta. I find myself with hardly any time to think I spend so much time assisting Agneta in the cucina or entertaining the important ladies. It seems nearly every evening we have guests visiting!

I find myself wishing you could have stayed to join me at the ball my Papá and I attended. I had such a lovely time though never before have I found such joy in dancing. Certainly my skills were an offense to dear Agneta and she insisted Papá hire a dance tutor to teach me proper grace. I believe she also has ideas of hiring tutors for other proper ladylike graces as well. She often tells me I am an embarrassment to her. It is with glad heart that I say I do enjoy the company of the dance tutor Papá found for me. I would hope that he will do as well and show such consideration with others.

If only you were here to meet Lord Guillaume I believe you would find him as curious and amusing as I do. He neither lacks in charm nor humor and patience and is kind with my graceless dance ability. I find him curious though for he has some peculiar habits of dress. I do admit that the first few visits I did not notice, so nervous was I about the lesson, then as I became more comfortable in his presence I realized he wears but one color! His clothing, though finely crafted and well fitted to his form, all comes only in purple the shade of the small flowers Agneta grows in her garden. I have not asked him why he chooses only one color, though it is a fine color against his skin, but I might for we have become well friends.

Recently I received letter from Pietro, my brother in Piombino and he says that soon he will be joining us in Siena. I do look forward to his return for my dear brother has always been so kind to me and I have dearly missed his company since we left. Agneta had hoped he would bring a bride with him but it would seem the maid he courted has chosen another. I think it better this way for I heard it whispered before we left Piombino the maid he set his eye upon was no maid at all. Such thoughts are uncharitable, and it is wicked of me to repeat them so I will say no more.

Agneta has hired a seamstress for the household to craft suitable gowns for her, myself, and my dear sister, Fina. She is a kind woman, but brisk and efficient. It seems she loves her craft, and tries to teach me as she creates her works of beauty. She has promised that even my unskilled hands can be taught to create such finery though I have never been able to master such skill before. I hope she is right for Agneta grows more frustrated with my uselessness as the days pass. She complains often that the painting I learn from Papá is not suitable for a woman. He praises my skill however and I hope she does not succeed in convincing him that I should not do such work at all. In the dance and paint do I find my only joy since the loss of my dear Simon.

I hope your studies go well and that when you return to visit someday you will speak the China man's language for me for I have never heard it and am most curious to hear how it sounds. My dearest wishes that God watches over you and grants you joy and safety in your travels.

Vinca

To Vinca From Rebecca I

Dear Lady Vinca,

Greetings from the silk road, it has been a long adventure since we have left your beautiful casa. I hope you receive this letter as we have finally reached our destination. Letters take a long time to get here because of the distance so I do not know when you will receive it soon. I hope you and your father are well.

The games that I played with your father are sorely missed. Most of my days are used learning the language here. Chinese is so hard to learn! I am having difficulty learning it. My father told me not to worry about it; that our translator will take care of it. However, I feel that the women here will talk more to me if they did not have to talk through a man.

I am shocked to find out that our living quarters are so beautiful. Yes, it is different than your casa and our manor at home. But it is lavished greatly with pillows and silk. I have never seen this much silk around! Even the middle class and lower classes here use silk. I have ordered some wonderful lush material to make more culturally acceptable clothing. My English clothing has gotten ill looks from people as I try to learn.

My father has mentioned once again marriage and that I am not getting any younger. I sigh at him and try to explain that I would rather spend my time studying to be a better healer for my people. Eventually he will give up and know that when I decide to marry, I will. So far the men I have met have been a bore. The men here seem to be lining up to meet me. It is so hard to look at them seriously when they are shorter than I am. Personally I think I am a novelty. I hope it wears off soon as I want to study medicine and not worry about the social interactions.

Farewell for now,

Rebecca

Letter to Francesca from Vinca - II

To Francesca De Savona

My dearest cousin and friend, Francesca, I hope this letter finds you well and blessed with joy and prosperity. Events for me recently have been well and I would wish with all my heart to share the joy with you.

Though I did not at first look forward to moving to Siena from the small town that had been my home for so long, I find this new place brightening my outlook in ways I did not even imagine. The beauty and culture of this place has opened my eyes and my soul to things that I never dreamed of. I truly wish you were here to share in this with me.

Since coming to this place Papá’s life has been very busy between his painting and the social events he attends to meet the companions of his patron. It was just a few days past that I was graced to attend one of these with him and Agneta. One of the great merchants held a ball for his daughters and all young women were invited to attend though I believe it was truly to show them all for marriage prospects to others of power and prestige in the city. I do believe Agneta had such designs for me though it did not come to fruition from this event that I am aware of.

Oh but such thoughts darken my mood and I shall cease to think them! I must tell you about this glorious event! The room was golden with lamps shining off the polished wood of floor and trim, the decorations sparkled. Why most of our casa could fit in this one sala, it was so grand! Plates of delicacies from far away lands were served and the wine was as fine as any I could ever imagine.

I do admit I felt but a fading flower among the other glorious ladies in their silks and finery for all I had to wear to such a fine event was my dress of red and gold. Do you remember it, that I wore when last we saw each other? Agneta was so ashamed of it afterwards she has commissioned a new one to be made that I do not embarrass her again.

The most wonderful part was the dancing. I have always been lacking in that particular skill, a fact of which Agneta was also livid afterwards, but for a good deal of the evening a gentleman did partner with me and his smile and voice were both so kind I neither felt graceless nor lacking in his company! It was also a joy to spend time in the company of a handsome and polite gentleman. He was nearly as kind as my Simon was before God took him to his breast.

In the course of the evening I learned that he I danced with came from the north lands of Germania though it pains me to realize I cannot recall his name, but my eye will never forget his pleasing smile. His visit was brief and I do not think I shall ever lay sight of him again but it was a lovely time, however short it was.

Agneta was greatly displeased with my dancing however and did complain to my father though I must thank her for this for Papá hired me a dance tutor. In the beginning I was vexed by this but after I met with the tutor I realized he was very kind and patient with my lack of skill and grace. We have even become friends and I sometimes speak to him of things I would no other for I feel I can trust him with such things. He is a curious man sometimes; small of stature with a sense of humor that is sometimes difficult for my woman’s mind to understand. He hails from France and Lord Guillaume has brought a number of dances with him that have not been seen in this city before. He has been teaching many of these to me with great patience. I look forward to my lessons with him for even though my feet do still trip over each other, he has confidence it will improve and encourages me in my efforts.

I have given great thought to your offer to travel to Venice, my dear friend and sister. I dream of someday seeing that beautiful city but my Papá needs my help so much with his work. Well it is that I also take my lessons from him for I can learn to paint such beautiful things from his great hands directly and understand better his needs as an artist and man of business. I know Agneta still searches for a marriage for me, after all I am still young enough to bear children and be a biddable wife, though glad I am that I do not believe Papá would insist I be wed to a man I find wretched.

It pleases me greatly to know you are well and enjoying your life in Venice. The stories you tell make it sound truly grand and I should like to visit sometime. Perhaps after Papá is more settled in the business of painting and I am not so needed.

I leave this letter now with prayers for your continued health and happiness and a hope that it will be no great time before I hear from you again, my dear cousin and friend.

Vinca

Letter to Rebecca from Vinca - One

To Lady Rebecca Cecini

My dearest friend Rebecca, I hope this letter finds you well and blessed by God with health and happiness. It seems so long since last we spoke though I know it was only a few weeks past that you graced our casa with your presence. I find I miss your company greatly in this city that still seems so strange to me and I lament that your visit was so very short.

Papá misses your company as well for he often opines the lack of skill at games among others that engage his time in the evening and comments that you gave him true challenge, for a woman. It sorrows me that I have no head for such games, being such a simple girl, and I am no contest to his skill. I have no doubt that Papá loves me, however, despite my lacks.

Since your departure I have received word from my dearest cousin Francesca who resides in Venice. She has asked me to come to that great city to live. While I have no doubt that she only has my best interests in her heart I am unsure about such a move. Papa needs my aid so very greatly with his business matters. I have considered simply going for a visit for a time though I believe Agneta would prefer if I chose to stay with my cousin. Though such thoughts do dishonor to my lady mother and I truly do have great respect and loyalty for her giving birth to me.

I have spoken in great detail about myself and such vanity is unbecoming so please, let me ask about you and your travels. Such exotic lands you journey to and I am most eager to hear all that you have to tell me about such, for one so simple as myself shall never have chance to see such great things.

I end this letter here with dear affection and I hope no great amount of time passes before I hear from you again.

Vinca

Letter to Cousin Vinca from Francesca (I)

My Dearest Vinca,

I am greatly relieved to hear that you arrived safely and well in Sienna. I am too well aware of the perils you and yours could have faced upon the roads and give thanks to the heavens that all is as it
should be.

If your father, my uncle is as wise a man as my mother always assured us he is then he will know the best way to keep your lady mother Agneta from being too meddlesome. I suspect that her intent is to sow discord between you and Uncle and thereby take control of his matters -- and his coinage. It does not escape my memory that my dear aunt does like her silks and velvets and always felt she was in short supply of them. I say that like a good and noble daughter you must hold fast to your father's interests and while remaining respectful to Agneta foil her attempts to interfere. 

My darling cousin, while I know that you live to attend your father's needs I must once more remind you of my offer of lodging. The city of Venice is as beautiful as a soul could want and the masques and revelries are not to be missed. My current patron, a man of no little means (though he be of french blood) has taken it upon himself to purchase for me a fine home within the Sestieri of San Marco wherein I may entertain as I will. It is a fine place with many luxuries and is only a very short way from the palace of the Doge himself! I do not doubt you could indeed, if you were so inclined, find a man of worth here who would ease the grief you feel over sweet Simon's passing. Venice is awash with handsome and intelligent men and no few women who hold entertaining discourse. There are great works of art to be seen, and surely Uncle would not begrudge you the opportunity to see
them. Please, I beg you to consider my offer at least once more as I find myself missing a familiar face and smile.

The hour here grows late and I must attend a dinner with my Patron and his selected guests.

Peace be with you and may you reply swiftly!

Francesca

Letter to Francesca from Vinca - One

To Francesca De Savona

My dearest cousin and friend, you did kindly ask that I send you word upon my safe arrival in Siena. And now I take time to honor that request.

Never have I seen so many people; the streets seem always busy with lord and beggar alike. Papá secured us a lovely villa with a small garden. His paints and canvasses look divine in the upper story with the light streaming in through the windows. His patron, a merchant of standing, stopped to speak with him not long after we had been in our new home. I only heard the voice echoing in the hall for Agneta would not permit me to show my face. Though he sounded a man of maturity with power and prestige. Papá is most fortunate and skilled in his art to have captured the attention of such a man.

In this place it seems Agneta’s displeasure with me is greater than any I have experienced before. It is fortunate that she will not challenge Papá for she dislikes that he teaches me his great work or that he trusts me alone with his correspondence and business. I do believe she is quite vexed that he would permit me to even travel with them to Siena when she would rather I have remained in Piombino with Blasio. And while it is that I have love in my heart for my all of my brothers, Blasio is the least understanding that I yet grieve for my beloved Simon and would arrange for me to wed again before his blood is cool in death.

I have little time to write now but I will make another letter later to send to you my dearest.

Vinca