The two flasks tinkled against each other as I walked down the corridor to the children’s room. I glanced down at the dark gray liquid in them, like watered ink, the spiced bite of the pine bark tea arguing with the black pepper and purple loosestrife, while above them the clear voices of Indian holy basil and moonwort rose in perfect balance. I sent yet another prayer up to the Santa Madre.
The moment Florindo and I had seen the black shifting masses of flies on the stagnant water, smelled the rot seeping into the land, we’d known there would be sickness in the region. We just hadn’t expected it would be the bloody flux.
Or that it would touch our household.
I took care to knock as softly as I could on the door, and Giusto was just as careful in opening it.
“Vincenzo sleeps,” he whispered.
I nodded and stepped into the room. The cloying scent of sickness seemed to cling to the very walls, easily overcoming the cinnamon and clove incense I’d ordered burned every two hours. I laid the flasks down on the table next to Giusto and walked to the chamber pots beside the window.
Pressing a handkerchief bathed in rose water to my nose and mouth, I leaned over them. There was more blood in the watery bowel movements than there’d been last night. I swallowed back fear.
“Mamma?” Francesco said.
I glanced up at my son and motioned for him to be quiet so that he’d not wake up his twin across the room.
It had not been easy to separate them once I’d realized they were both ill. They’d slept next to one another their entire lives, from their conception onward. Most nights in the same bed, legs twined together. Which was why it had been so easy for one to hand the sickness over to the other. If not for the alternating cramps and fevers that had been making it impossible for either of them to rest, I might have allowed them to comfort each other as they’d done in my womb.
Perhaps in a day or two, when they felt better. I skirted firmly away from the hidden if.
Taking one of the flasks, I walked over to Francesco and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. He was much too warm.
“My stomach hurts, Mamma,” he said. “It won’t let me sleep.”
“I know, amore. I’ve made you something to drink that will help.” I swirled the flask and tipped half of the contents into the water glass by his bed.
Francesco groaned.
“It looks rather awful, doesn’t it?” I said. “It smells pretty terrible too. I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to drink it.” I took a large sniff. “No, definitely not. But you’ve always been much braver than I.”
His large brown eyes glistened as he looked from me back to the glass.
“And it will help?”
I almost smiled. Even with a mind skidding with fever, he was ready to calculate whether the unpleasantness would be worth it.
“Of course.”
I could only wish I were really as sure as all that.
He reached for the glass, and I helped him bring it up to his lips. His hands simmered beneath mine. If the fever didn’t retreat soon, I’d have to place him in a cool bath.
Francesco’s face scrunched up at the bitterness of the tonic, which I’d not been able to curb with much more than a thread of honey lest it affect the balance of the entire thing. I watched, expecting him to argue, but he kept drinking. That, alone, told me how ill he felt.
As I’d slowly boiled the tonic last night and into this morning, I’d tried to pry out the source of the illness, but I just couldn’t come upon it. How had it insinuated itself in here? Because I’d done everything I could think of to prevent it. From the moment I’d heard that some of the mill workers had the sickness in their homes, I’d ordered all water boiled, even from our well, all vegetables and fruits cooked. I’d given every servant a large vial of rose water to use before sitting down to eat their own meals and a pouch full of charcoal and the same powdered cinnamon and clove incense I’d made for my children to burn in their rooms. I’d even allowed them half a day off so that they could bathe properly, without having to share the water. And still, the bloody flux was here, in this very room.
Francesco gasped as he finished the tonic and thrust the glass away from himself, toward me.
“How brave you are, amore.” I brushed a lock of hair, slick with sweat, from his eyes. “I want you to drink lots of water, and when your brother wakes up, you need to help him with his tonic too. Show him how to be just as strong as you.”
He nodded, his lips still pinched with the liquid’s bitterness. “And Giacomo, does he have to drink it? Or Marcellina and Ugo?”
“Not yet.” Hopefully not at all. “That’s why I had them go to another room last night. So that they wouldn’t get sick.”
“Will they come in to play?”
“As you and Vincenzo start feeling better. Which is why you want to drink your tonics just as wonderfully as you did now and encourage your brother to do the same. Yes?”
“Yes.”
I leaned and placed a kiss on his damp forehead. I started to turn but he grasped my hand.
“Do you have to go?”
The words drew blood. I wanted nothing more than to root myself by my twins’ sides, pull them both to me, and clutch them until the illness burned itself out, but the potential investor Florindo was courting would be here at any moment.
“I have to help your father with something very important, but then I’ll be back. And if you’ve behaved, both of you, I’ll tell you more about that pirate I saw in Genova. Would you like that?”
His eyes widened and he nodded.
“Bene. Now Giusto is right here if you need anything, but do your best to rest.”
I walked over to their tutor and motioned to the other flask. “When Vincenzo wakes, give him half of it. I’ll have a servant come to remove the chamber pots, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Yes, mona.”
Not for the first time, I was grateful Giusto’s father had been a physician and had dragged the poor boy on his calls as his assistant.
I forced myself out of the room. I started for the stairs before the tug of my children’s need was too strong to break from, wiping my hands with the handkerchief drenched in rose water as I walked. I could not allow the illness to send its tendrils through the villa. It had to be contained in that one room. In my sons.
Shoving the worry back as far back as I could, at least for the moment, I hurried down the stairs.
Even from here, the land’s strange warping of sound made it possible to hear the hammer strikes and worker’s voices coming from the dam’s site. Now that the rains had finally stopped, the repairs could be tackled. Florindo and I would have preferred if they had been finished before this private lender came to inspect the property, but a substantial number of workers had fallen ill in the past two weeks. Despite the violent words that those of the region flung at us at every opportunity, we did understand that the faster the repairs were done, the faster the soaked, sick land could dry, but there was only so much we could do with just a handful of workers.
“Scusatemi, madonna,” a servant said when I reached the courtyard, tapping lightly toward me. She bowed her head and held up the silver tray she carried, a single missive resting on it. “This just arrived.”
“Thank you,” I said and took it. I was about to slide it into one of my overdress’s pockets to tend to later when I saw it was from Silvia.
I waved the servant off and broke the seal.
My dearest Maddalena,
If the roads were in better condition and half our grounds were not the consistency of zabaglione, I would be there in person to give you the blessed news: I am with child!
You are the first person I’ve told now that my physician has confirmed it. Not even Salvatore has the slightest idea, and it’ll likely remain that way until at least a few more weeks go by. I know you will keep the news close.
I truly do not know how to thank you for the wonder of your tonics and of you, my dear friend. I send a grateful prayer up to our Dio every night for bringing you here, for placing you in my path. Or perhaps for placing me in yours.
As soon as our driver is able to dislodge the carriage from its mire, I’ll be on my way to thank you in person.
Your loving, grateful friend,
Silvia
It was difficult not to smile at the happiness bubbling in every word she’d written. One good thing had happened in the last few weeks, at least. Now we just had to see if the pregnancy would hold.
The sound of a carriage reached me and I tucked the letter into my pocket before starting for the front door again. My right hand went to the red thread around my left wrist, one I’d subjected to the same bath of ginger, frankincense, and boiled mercury that had helped us with the previous investor. The sting of the welts the mercury had already caused reassured me.
“Oh, Maria,” I said, stopping one of the women sweeping past me on their way to their various morning tasks, “the chamber pots in the children’s room need to be emptied.”
“Yes, madonna.”
“Use the strongest solution of lye we have to clean them and, once you’ve finished, be sure to give the laundress your tunic so that she can boil it. Ask her for a spare one.”
She bowed her head. “Of course, madonna.”
I nodded and continued out the door just as a man in a rather virulent shade of mauve stepped out of the carriage. He lifted an eyebrow at the mud that overtook his boots the moment he touched the ground, and I saw the thought of retreating sweep through this face.
I’d not give him the chance.
“Messer Farris,” I said, brightening my voice as I would have when entering a particularly unwelcoming Genovese sala. “You must please forgive the dreadful wetness. As I’m sure my husband mentioned in his correspondence, this has been a difficult season of rain for us.”
Never mind that the mud had been here every day since we’d arrived, rain or no rain.
Florindo, who had been waiting for his arrival on the last stair step, walked right into all of the brown muck. “You are very welcome to our home, Messer Farris.”
And now the man had no choice.
“Thank you, Messer Caparalia.” He merely nodded in my direction, giving me the tersest of glances.
In just that one tight gesture, I knew the kind of man I had before me and what he expected me to be. Certainly not what I was. Florindo would have to take the lead today.
“Would you like to begin in the villa or in the mill?” my husband said, motioning past the carriage.
The man looked behind him, and I could almost hear his sigh of disgust at what he would have to walk through. “The villa, if you would be so kind.”
I pasted on a smile and waited for the two of them to start up the steps, allowing them to pass in front of me. Florindo flicked his gaze in my direction as he did so, and I fluttered my eyelashes at him, putting on as accurate an imitation of female foolishness as I could manage. My husband pursed his lips and I saw that he understood.
He led us into the villa.
One benefit of having to act the subservient wife was that I could see every reaction Messer Farris had to what he was seeing. Every twitch was visible, even from a step behind. I could follow his gaze as he turned to look at sculptures or stared up at the fresco above the courtyard, I could see the boredom in the tilt of his head as Florindo expounded on marble and stone selections.
Despite knowing very well this had been my idea, I felt like an animal whose den had been invaded as I watched this boorish but wealthy man inspect my home. A primal need to hiss and growl filled me every time he stepped into a new room. Because I knew that he was transforming everything he saw into scudi. Putting a number on every polished door handle and carved corbel.
And he was thorough, insisting on seeing everything. The only two chambers I’d motioned to Florindo to refuse access to were the children’s and my small cucinetta, for I couldn’t imagine what he would think if he saw its contents. He did not look the kind to have read Caterina Sforza’s Experiments. In truth, he did not look the kind to imagine women could write.
On the way back out, the steward and two of his men came forward at my discreet signal and offered wine, which Messer Farris took, and pear slices, which he did not.
The mill and dam inspection came next, neither of which seemed to cause much excitement. And that concerned me. If the mill, with its size and obvious, though silenced, power could not impress him, we didn’t have much more to offer. Florindo’s own silence as we walked back out to the carriage indicated he had realized the same thing.
“Messer Caparalia,” the man said, coming to a stop, “I’ll be as direct as I can be out of respect to you.” He sighed. “The mill is not worth much, not in its current condition.”
My jaws clenched enough to hurt.
“The land is unusable and the dam is still not repaired.”
“But Messer Farris, that is why we’ve asked you here today, why we would like a loan. So that we can rectify these problems.”
The man sniffed. “Yes, but you have to see it through my eyes, messer. There is no delicate way of putting this, so you’ll have to forgive me for my harshness.” For the first time since the inspection had begun, he looked at me. “Scusatemi, madonna, but this business talk is not appropriate for your ears. Perhaps you’d like to return inside.”
I was willing to make a lot of concessions and play the role required of me up to a point, but this, I would not do. “I’m quite all right, messer. But thank you.”
He glanced at Florindo, who just lifted his eyebrows in expectation.
Messer Farris cleared his throat, tight lines forming around his mouth. “Well, the reality is that if you were unable to pay back the loan, forfeiting it, I would end up with a property with which I can do very little. Even selling it wouldn’t bring me the amount you’ve requested. I’d lose part of the loan, and that is not something I’m willing to do, especially when I can turn to other prospects instead.”
“One moment,” Florindo said. “The villa is newly built. Surely it has its worth?”
The man nodded. “The villa is certainly beautiful, and I would gladly offer you a loan with it as collateral, but it can’t be for the amount you’ve asked for.”
And that would not be sufficient. What we were requesting was the minimum we needed to buy the grain, maintain our household, and repair the dam.
“What amount did you have in mind, then?” Florindo said.
“Without added collateral, half of what you’ve asked. Perhaps slightly more.”
We couldn’t even purchase all of the grain with that.
“You are welcome, of course, to speak with other private lenders before deciding, but I doubt anyone will offer more.”
That wasn’t even an option, for none of the other lenders Florindo had contacted had bothered to respond.
It was then, facing the reality of our situation, that I made the decision to mention what Florindo and I had planned to keep to ourselves.
I disliked doing it, for I would have objected if my husband had done it to me, but I had no time to waste. Not even to consult with him.
“We have hectares of oak trees up on the mountain,” I said.
The man’s eyes widened and he turned to look at Florindo. “You have lumber?”
“Uh . . . yes.” He cleared his throat, keeping his face clear of any surprise. “An extensive amount.”
He scoffed. “Well, that would certainly change matters. Why did you not mention it before?”
“We didn’t think it would be necessary,” Florindo said.
“Could I see the trees?”
“Of course. Give me a moment to fetch one of the local workers to lead us up the mountain.” Florindo did not wait for an answer but strode off toward the dam.
Messer Farris frowned and he was forced to turn to me. “You’ve not been up there yourselves?”
“No, we’ve been kept rather busy lately, too busy for mountain expeditions. I’m sure you understand,” I said, making myself smile. “But Messer Cestarello, the chancellor of the region, told us all about them. Apparently, there is no other spot quite like it in the area.”
It was impossible to miss the hard spark in his eyes.
Florindo returned moments later with one of the workers, a man in his forties who looked as if he continually had one glass of wine too many and whose tunic was dripping with river water.
He nodded his head at each of us, clutching his hat in his hands.
“Ilario has worked in this mill for two decades,” Florindo said. “He knows the path to the trees very well.”
“I could walk it blind, messer.”
“Lead on, then,” Florindo said, smiling.
With another deep nod, the worker started off toward the woods, paying no mind to the puddles or to the ground that seemed to give way under his feet, sinking him in muck up to his calves. I skirted the worst of them but still felt the cold wetness reach my hose. Messer Farris didn’t bother to mask his groans.
I’d never taken this path into the woods, always slipping in from behind the garden instead, and it was not as easy to navigate. Not with all the pine trees that threatened to poke needles into eyes and other soft spots.
“It’s rather a shame that these are not oaks,” Messer Farris said, shoving a branch aside. “You would have a true fortune on your hands. Unfortunately, pine trees are rather useless except as firewood.”
I bit back all the uses I had for pine bark, needles, and sap. Including the tonic to fight the illness wracking through my twins’ insides. What would have been the point in contradicting this kind of man?
Ilario led on minute after minute, until birdsong replaced all sounds of the villa. He twisted to look at us every few steps, like he couldn’t hear us stumbling behind him, softly muttering curses as our feet slid over slick pinecones the sun’s rays had not reached enough to dry.
We couldn’t have been walking for more than ten minutes when he came to an abrupt stop.
“What is it?” Florindo said.
“The entrance up the mountain, the cave opening,” he said, pointing. “It’s behind those.”
In front of us, three boulders that would have scraped the villa’s ceilings stood pressed against one another, sentinels of stone. A fourth was tipped on its side before them.
They blocked the path. Completely.
“It must have happened in the storm,” Florindo said. If I’d not known him since we were fifteen, I would have missed the tremor of dawning despair in his voice.
“Is there no other path up?” I said, turning to Ilario.
“Not that I know, madonna.”
Oh, Santa Madre.
Messer Farris sighed behind us. “That is unfortunate.”
“We’ll get the boulders removed, of course,” I said. “The delay will be only a matter of a day or two.”
The man nodded, but he was already turning. “When the path has been cleared, send me a note and I’ll return to inspect the trees.”
My temples pounded. We were going to lose this opportunity. We couldn’t afford to wait, not so much as another day.
“I’ll be as direct with you as you have been with us, messer,” I said, drawing closer to him. “I’m afraid we can’t wait that long. Is there no possible way you can grant us the loan, the full loan, without having to see the trees this very moment? Whatever we can promise you, we will.” I tilted my head and made myself as innocuous, as sweet, as I could. “We will sign any papers you need.”
He looked at me, his lips poised somewhere between a smile and a sneer. I felt his answer before he said it.
“It’s impossible, madonna. I sympathize, truly, but it is not my responsibility to correct the mistakes your husband has made with his finances. He shouldn’t have allowed matters to get to this desperate point. Perhaps he shouldn’t have bought this property.”
The need to strike him was so great I clenched my hands to prevent it. This ignorant man, someone who thought me so insignificant he hadn’t deigned to greet me, someone who knew nothing at all about us, laying judgment on my husband.
Florindo walked toward me, touching my shoulder with his.
“My original proposal still stands, however,” Messer Farris said. “You can sign the paperwork today and get the funds you need. Then, when it is possible to see the oak trees, I can arrange for the rest of the loan.”
I looked at my husband. Little would have pleased me more than ordering this man tossed out of our property, but what choice did we have? It was either this or nothing at all.
I didn’t need to do anything but press my lips together for Florindo to understand.
“That will have to do,” he said. “We’ll accept the loan with the villa as collateral and arrange for the rest in a few days.”
“Excellent,” Messer Farris said, smiling widely. He motioned to the path we’d forged through the forest. “It’ll take me a mere moment to prepare the paperwork.”
Florindo sent Ilario ahead of him to keep the man from cracking his head open or sinking into the bog our land had become, both of them quickly disappearing behind curtains of pine needles.
“Forgive me for mentioning the oaks, sposo,” I said the instant we were alone. “I know we agreed to keep that to ourselves.”
He shook his head. “It was the right thing to do. It still is. Though I’m not at all sure how we’ll manage paying the first loan if we utilize the trees for this.”
“We’ll sell whatever jewelry I still have.” Not that they would bring in much, because we’d already sold off the best pieces after the theft of last year’s grain. “Gowns, too. I have some lace panels that are exquisite, and I suppose we’ll have to reduce the number of servants. The newer ones, at least. Whittle everything down to the minimum.”
He didn’t need to say it. I knew it still wouldn’t be enough to cover all of our debts.
I slipped my hand into his as we began the walk back to the house. Worry gnawed at me. But perhaps this concern would be spooked away the moment we climbed up that mountain. Who was to say there weren’t enough oak trees to clear each one of our debts?
Our fortune could be up there right now, just out of reach.