Chiara – Revenge and Triumph (61 page)

"I’m for leaving this stinking city right away," urged Orlando. "Romans have always looked down on outsiders. If anybody were interested, two days is more than enough time for them to make up their mind. Chiara, just admit that your strategy hasn’t worked."

She had the impression he was in part glad about that, but did not know whether it was because he really wanted to leave or that for once, he hoped to be right and she wrong.

As he spoke, the innkeeper approached Chiara and, when Orlando had finished, he spoke to her in a low voice: "Signorina, there is a liveried servant of Palazzo Farnese who has asked for you. Shall I bring him in?"

"No, I’ll go and see him. Where is he?"

"Out, in the courtyard, Signorina."

She went out and accepted the letter from the young boy. When he wanted to leave, she retained him. "Wait, it may need a reply right away."

The letter invited them to offer
Phormio
, as well as the knife-throwing act three days hence. "Can you wait a few minutes for my answer?"

He nodded. She went inside the taverna.

"We have our first invitation."

"Have you accepted?" Alda questioned.

"No, not yet. I’m not willing to play unless they agree to our fee of thirty florins."

"But that’s crazy. Why run the risk of losing the invitation?" cried Orlando. "Just accept. They’ll surely pay the going rate in Rome."

"No, I don’t care what the going rate in Rome is, except that I bet ten florins that it’s well below twenty. No, I say it’s not worth our while unless the purse is sizeable. You said yourself that staying in Rome, even for a short while, is playing dice with our health."

"I agree with Chiara," interjected Alda, and Pepe nodded. "Why sell ourselves cheaply?"

Jacomo seemed to enjoy the tussle between Chiara and Orlando. "I go along with Chiara."

"So do I," added Veronica.

"Oh, you people are hopeless. You always side with her. They’ll feel insulted — a nobody from Tuscany dares to set the fee, and they’ll withdraw the invitation. I know these Romans." He sounded annoyed.

"We’ll see."

Chiara quickly wrote her reply, addressed to Count Farnese, accepting the invitation and stating that their usual purse for private performances was thirty florins. To everybody’s surprise, they received a response within the hour. Count Farnese would be honored to match that fee.

The performance at Palazzo Farnese was received with the now customary praise. Chiara accepted half a dozen further invitations, but then declined several more. The weather was starting to get hot and it was time to leave the city. Not even Orlando protested. He had been silenced for having been wrong too many times.

* * * 

Two days before their last private performance at Casa Sacchetti, they gave another public show on Piazza Navona. When they packed up after the two skits, they discovered to their dismay that the case with Pepe’s knives had disappeared, together with some other items of little value. Unless they could be found again, they would not be able to do the knife act. It was not simply a question of getting another set of knives. Not only were these knives all identical, exactly the same size, weight, and shape, but also perfectly balanced, flawless, and made of the finest steel. They had been specially made by one of the renown knife makers of Scarperia, north of Florence and had cost Pepe a small fortune. The irony was that they were of little value to anybody else, since their blades were blunt, only their tips sharp and pointed.

Pepe sat in the inn’s court, head hanging, drowning his wine rather fast.

"Pepino, don’t get drunk, please," begged Alda.

"I’m finished without those knives. It would take us at least half a year to replace them," he growled, close to tears, while refilling his cup.

"We must get them back," declared Chiara.

"But how can we find them in this big city? We have to tell Casa Sacchetti. They especially asked for the knife act?"

"There are still two days till then. Let’s find out how a thief can get rid of sixteen knives. Maybe the innkeeper might know or else we have to visit a few shady taverns like we did in Florence."

"Chiara, don’t do anything risky," implored Alda. "The knives are not worth it. You have become too precious to me. Look, maybe this is God’s way of telling Pepino to stop his dangerous act."

"You mean, give up being traveling players?" questioned Pepe. "Settle down somewhere?"

"Yes, I have been thinking much about that lately. Maybe I just don’t feel like teaming up with another clown when Jacomo leaves us… and since that mishap in Florence, I always feel a bit apprehensive every time you do it."

"Oh,
mamina
, I’m sorry," exclaimed Chiara, hugging her.

"I’m not blaming you. Maybe I’m just getting old and now for the first time we can actually afford to settle down, buy a small farm and live off the land. I know, Pepino, this has been your dream all along."

"Yes, it has, but it was never more than a dream since I knew that we would never have enough money for that."

"But now we have. We are rich beyond our wildest dreams."

 "True. Sometimes I forget. Maybe we should call it quits when Jacomo leaves. What do you say Chiara? Shouldn’t you settle down too?"

"Yes, Chiara, have your own family, get a husband and have children."

"Oh, not you too. You are my family," she exclaimed. "But I agree with you, Alda, about Jacomo. It won’t be the same. I don’t want to risk getting another Carlo… But, even if we do that, we still must get those knives back, even if just as a souvenir. We can try to buy them back. I’ll be happy to pay."

* * * 

The innkeeper was of little help except telling them that Trastevere would be the most likely place to find out. Chiara, in her clerical disguise, and Pepe, both carrying several knives, ventured into Trastevere in spite of Orlando’s warning not to do so. At the second inn they visited they learned that the flea market, on the Trastevere side of Ponte Cestio, the bridge to Isola Tiberina, would be the most likely place where such goods would be sold.

Next day, Chiara, Pepe, and Jacomo visited the market. Each searched one section. Chiara got sidetracked, admiring the exquisite things offered for sale. She had little doubt that most of the goods were stolen. After a while she saw Jacomo and Pepe waving and she went to meet them.

"Pepe found them," exclaimed Jacomo as she got closer. "Down there, close to Ponte Palatino. We’ll show you."

The knives, without their case, were displayed on a trestle table, together with other metal utensils and copper pots. Chiara picked up one of the knives and asked casually: "How much?"

The fellow manning the stall — she guessed he was in his early fifties — came over and took the knife from her. "
Fanciulla
, these knives are not of much use in the kitchen. I have the kind you need over there." He pointed to the other end of the table, his face contorting with a false smile, displaying a bad set of yellowish teeth, two missing, others with black spots of decay.

"My brother has a similar one he uses for throwing. He might like a second one. How much?"

"Fifteen
solidi
."

"Too much." She lingered at the stall, admiring some of the pots, turning one around to inspect its bottom.

"Look,
fanciulla
, this one’s brand new. Only eighteen
solidi
. You won’t find a better bargain anywhere." He pulled a pot from underneath the table. It was indeed a beautiful round copper pot, with a sturdy handle, and showed few signs of use, but the figure quoted was at least twice what it was worth. Although she had no interest in the pot — she just wanted to find out what kind of dealer he was before she started showing a real interest in the knives — she replied: "Indeed, it is beautiful, but not worth more than nine
solidi
."

"Ah, pretty one, it is worth more than twenty, but I’ll give it to you for sixteen. Look, how solid it is. It will last you a lifetime."

"Ten," she replied.

"
Carina
, you’re too young to know the value of things. This pot is worth at least thirty and I’m willing to let you have it for fifteen, but no less. Hold it. See how heavy it is."

"I don’t have that many
solidi
on me."

"How much do you have, little one?"

"Twelve."

"Not enough for this one." He took the pot from her hand and showed her another, rather beat-up, saying: "You can have this one for ten."

"
Figliola
, don’t let him cheat you," called a middle-aged man from the adjacent stall who had been eagerly watching her. "Look, my wares are better and cheaper." He held up one that, indeed, looked better.

"
Cretino
, don’t mess with my customers or you will be sorry."

"Bah, you toothless old fart, how dare you threaten me."

In a flash, she knew how to get the knives. She retreated a bit.

"Do you want me to show you again, you son of a whore?" the first dealer shouted.

She backed off some more, moving closer to the adjacent stall, her face and whole posture feigning fear.

"You bastard, trying to steal my customer." He followed her, still holding the pot in his hand. "
Fanciulla
, don’t let him scare you."

She retreated a bit more, so that she stood just slightly behind the other man, nodding to Jacomo, pointing with her nose to the knives. A mischievous smile briefly lit up his eyes, and he wandered closer to the table, pulling Pepe along.

The two men were now glaring at each other, their noses almost touching. She waited a moment to see whether they would come to blows on their own, and then pushed the one in front of her. He jerked forward, his forehead hitting the nose of his opponent, who yelled in pain and then went for the throat of his neighbor. In the ensuing scuffle, both toppled to the ground, yelling and screaming at each other.

Jacomo instantly grabbed half the knives and Pepe the remaining ones, and then both ran down toward the ruins of Ponte Palatino. Chiara hurried after them. There were a few shouts of "
Ladri, ladri!
" A middle-aged fellow darted after Pepe. Chiara now ran too, lifting her skirts, caught up and tripped him from behind. He stumbled, crashing into a loaded table, taking everything down to the ground. By then Jacomo and Pepe had dipped into a side street, leading deeper into Trastevere. She followed and whistled sharply when she saw them at the end of the narrow alley. They waited for her.

"Let’s walk now. Running is more suspicious."

They made a detour around the market to Ponte Cestio.

"That was easy," remarked Jacomo, grinning. "What a clever ploy to get those two at each other’s throat."

Chiara smiled. "Thanks, Jacomo, for catching on so quickly."

"When I saw you bargaining with that fellow, I immediately smelled a rat. You were superb when you backed away, pretending to be frightened. That really got him going."

Pepe, still taken aback by what happened, muttered. "Can’t you ever do things the normal way?"

"Come, Pepe," she said, hugging his shoulders. "We got your knives and, what’s more, it didn’t cost us a
denaro
. What more do you want?"

He grinned. "That I had a head likes yours."

24

Via Francigena, July 1350

We left Rome in early July, before the summer heat set in. Nobody regretted leaving the city. Compared to Florence, Siena, or even Pisa, Rome felt dead, the population seemed restless, waiting — what for I did not know. The return of the Pope? Pilgrims still flocked into the city to visit the places where Saint Peter was said to have preached, although the innkeeper claimed that when his father ran the taverna, it had always been full from early May till late October, not like now.

We took the Via Francigena, barely passable for our cart, and made our way north. The fame of I Magnifici traveled ahead of us. We drew big crowds of pilgrims, and in Viterbo, Bolsena, and Aqua Pendente gave private performances of Phormio. We blessed our strong horses when we entered the mountainous region of Sienese territory around Monte Amiata with its constant ups and downs and pitied other traveling players who struggled with a donkey or maybe a mule if they were better off. More than once we were asked how we could afford two horses — we had left the third in Perugia for Jacomo’s use when he would take up his studies there.

At San Quirico we abandoned Via Francigena to go back to Monte Pulciano, the place I had given as the address for messages to reach us in time, not to talk about my eagerness to see my treasure again.

A letter about Elba from Lady Maria caused me to throw all caution into the wind. It told me that I had to take up the unfinished task of becoming master of Castello Nisporto again, in spite of my resolve not to do anything that could bring harm to the ones I loved.

Sadly, I Magnifici were coming to an end. Jacomo was to study law in Perugia, Alda and Pepe were ready to retire, and I had a new quest. While waiting for that to happen, we again took up residence in Castello Gianbucca near Chianciano. We offered a new play of commedia erudita, Amphitruo by Plautus, to the patrons of the thermal baths.

Veronica and I accompanied Jacomo to Perugia. The girl was anxious to see her brother settled and, I guessed, was also keen to meet Luigi, the youngest son of Lord Baglione. She had fallen in love with him when he had been our voluntary prisoner. But she was not to come back with me. I was both sad and honored when Lord Baglione’s mother insisted on training her for courtly duty as her own personal attendant. But how could I stand in the way of such a unique opening into the nobility. I had no doubt that within a year she would be betrothed to Luigi.

* * *