Daughters of the Doge (57 page)

The waiter brought us breakfast and we waited until he had loaded the table before continuing. ‘Yasmeen loves you to distraction. Be clear about that. The problem is, she was too impetuous in talking to her father, and said too much too soon. He clings to her, not out of selfishness, but out of love. I have told him about it and he agrees, but he can’t help himself

She picked up her bread and carefully spread it with fruit preserve.

‘What you don’t know is that his wife, Yasmeen’s mother, died of a fever while Ayham was away travelling, on business. It was summertime and very hot, and when he arrived home she had already been buried. He never had a chance to say goodbye. Unfortunately, they told him that she had died in pain, calling for him all the time. Ever since, he has blamed himself for not being there; not being able to save her or, at least, to comfort her in her hour of need. He vowed never to let the same thing happen again, and he agonizes over every journey he makes.’

I shook my head. ‘I didn’t realize. What was her name?’

‘Jamilah. I believe it means “graceful”, or “beautiful”. Ayham says Yasmeen has inherited her looks and her way of walking. Have you noticed how straight her back is, and how she seems to walk from her hips, as if her feet are sliding above the ground?

I spread my hands, as Italian as I could look. ‘Veronica! Have I noticed? Have I eaten, drunk or slept since I noticed?’

Again the belly-laugh; again the turning heads. If you wanted to remain unnoticed in Venice, Veronica Franco was not a good choice of companion. Still chuckling, she continued.

‘I suspect that he assumed that, as an Englishman, you were Christian, and that marriage between a Christian and a Muslim was impossible. Yasmeen has not told her father that you see your future in either Venice or Padua, for fear he would think you had discussed every detail before consulting him. My guess is that Ayham went to bed with the idea in his head that his daughter planned to run off to England, unmarried, with a Christian, and when she admitted how she felt about you the next morning, he reacted accordingly.’

I shook my head. ‘What can we do? I love Yasmeen and she loves me. I want to marry her. Even if we were to live in Padua she could see her father regularly. Where is the difficulty in that?’

‘I will talk to Ayham and explain the truth. He will believe me. First, you must make your future look less uncertain. That means you need to decide whether it is to be art in Venice or medicine in Padua.’

I nodded. Veronica always made everything sound so simple and straightforward.

‘Second, you need to be clear what marrying a Muslim girl really means. Do you intend to become a Muslim? Do you expect her to become a Protestant? Or do you believe there is a third way?’

I looked at her hard, hoping for inspiration. ‘I cannot, in all faith, become a Muslim just because it is expedient, no more than I could ask Yasmeen to change her own faith.’

She looked at me and waited.

‘So what will you do?’

I blundered on, trying to look more confident than I felt. ‘I thought we could have two marriages, one in my church and one in hers. That way, we could each continue our individual religions, with our marriage recognized by both sides.’

She nodded, impassive, and I knew she was ahead of me. ‘It should be the other way around – first in her church, then in yours. That way there is more safety for her. And the children? What religion will they follow? The question must be addressed.’

I thought she was now beginning to put problems in my way for the sake of it. ‘As far as I am concerned, we will bring them up with an understanding of both religions and when they are old enough, allow them to choose.’

She nodded. ‘It’s a good answer if you can make it work. I hope Yasmeen thinks the same way. You need to talk about it.’

I nodded my agreement. This was getting better.

‘Finally . . .’ (She was counting off the issues on her fingers). ‘Finally, you need to conclude your commitment to Suor Faustina and Felicità.’

I tried to sound in control. ‘The plan is falling into place. I know how much I need to pay to release them and I shall negotiate such an arrangement with the abbess. Faustina has told me she no longer feels constrained by the wishes of her family. All I need to do is find her suitable employment.’

‘And where will you, an outsider to our city, find her employment that is suitable for a noble lady and former nun, against the wishes of the Contarini family?’ She spread her hands in challenge. My face fell. ‘I don’t know.’

Veronica leaned forward on her elbows and looked at me closely. ‘There is one more problem to overcome.’

My heart sank. This was getting too difficult. I waited.

‘When you marry Yasmeen – and assuming, for a moment, that you decide to go to Padua to study medicine – how will Jacopo find a replacement for Yasmeen?’

I stared at her. There was something in her expression that told me I was missing something.

‘Think. Think of tidiness. Think of architecture. Think of symmetry.’

I stared at her, confused.

Veronica cupped both her hands and offered them towards me. She lifted the right hand and let it fall, as if weighing something in it.

‘Here we have an educated lady looking for employment. A lady who is trained in negotiating with suppliers, understands the Church and is qualified in book-keeping.’ She lifted her left hand and weighed it in similar fashion. ‘And here we have a poor painter, who is about to lose his business manager, and needs to replace her with someone who can talk to his customers, either members of the nobility or the church, negotiate with suppliers and keep the books.’ She looked at me, hands held out. ‘Well?’

I looked at her in amazement, and she smiled back. ‘With one hand God giveth and with the other he taketh away. Elegant isn’t it? Symmetrical?’

It was so easy. Why hadn’t I thought of it? I leaned forward; this time it was my turn to pose the question.

‘What about Felicità?’

Her unwavering smile told me she already had the answer. ‘Jacopo’s wife, Fausbina, gave birth to a daughter, Marietta, earlier this year and, God willing, it looks as if the child will survive. They plan to have more children, with the Lord’s blessing, and they need someone to look after little Marietta and help Fausbina around the house.’

Hers was the smile of one who has just announced checkmate.
‘Ecco! Que hello, ehi
?’

I had to agree. It was beautiful. Now all I had to do was make it all work.

I walked home, feeling elated. Reaching the top of a little bridge over a canal, I stopped, in sheer happiness. As I looked down the length of the narrow canal, my mind ran through all the pieces of the jigsaw we had been puzzling over. I had enough common sense to know that I was not alone in driving all of these sheep into the one pen. I walked on and paused again. Was Yasmeen using Veronica as an intermediary? I pictured her face, smudged with tears, and could not believe she was. Reaching the next bridge, I paused again. Perhaps while I was trying to create a future for myself and Yasmeen, Veronica was manipulating both of us? Somehow, I no longer cared. I was simply grateful for her assistance.

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July the 10th 1556 – Convento di Sant’ Alvise

‘Dear Abess, it is very good of you to see me, and at such short notice.’

‘Ah, you must be the “family lawyer”. Unusual. Not many of our noble families use English lawyers these days.’ She scoffed at my attempted former disguise, but I had expected it: all part of the negotiating process, trying to weaken my position before I started. I maintained my calm and continued.

‘I have come to you in good faith. Suor Faustina has been put in a difficult position by the demise of her family’s fortune. You, in turn, have a problem: she is high-born but soon will have no income. I have a proposal. I am willing to extend her allowance, and that of the
conversa
Felicità, at my own expense – say, six ducats – on the understanding that on or before the first of October, you will release them both to my safekeeping on payment of a single sum of fifty ducats. That is my proposal.’

I saw the abbess’s eyes gleam, but she wanted more. The offer was derisory, she said, the family would be insulted. In truth I knew she had no position of strength from which to negotiate.

‘I cannot even consider an offer so meagre.’

I stood to leave. ‘Those are my terms – reject them and you have nothing. I shall not negotiate.’

It was easier than I had expected. Realizing she was in danger of losing everything, the abbess called me back. For fifteen minutes we played with words, but in the end she agreed and asked that a paper be drawn up for signature. With a considerable degree of pleasure, I reached into my pouch and withdrew two copies of an agreement I had already written before my visit. She glared at me, but read it and, without further ado, signed it in duplicate. I signed both copies also and returned one to her, together with the six ducats. I had an agreement and had also bought three months in which to deliver my side of the bargain.

She was no fool. With the document signed, her mood changed and she became remarkably friendly. She asked how I came to be in Venice and how I had become aware of the plight of Suor Faustina. I told her only that I had heard about it from a Venetian friend. I was sure she did not believe me, but she did not press me further. There was little more to be said. As she showed me to the door, I turned back to her.

‘And Reverend Mother – you will give me your assurance that until their final moment in this convent, both Suor Faustina and the
conversa
Felicità will continue to be given the respect they have always received, by all of your little family. I shall seek assurances before the final sum is paid.’

She understood. ‘You have my word on that, Signor Stocker. I shall issue the necessary instructions. We are a disciplined order.’

I could imagine how the discipline worked, and how it was enforced. I left the building less than half an hour after I had arrived. I had until October the 1st to complete my plan.

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