Daughters of the Doge (36 page)

March the 29th 1556 – House of Titian, Calle Larga dei Botteri

‘Did you know that his daughter got married last year and her dowry was 1,400 ducats? Who says there is no money in the art business?’ Veronica Franco nodded across the road towards Titian’s huge mansion.

We were standing in exactly the place I had stood when I had watched the cardinal leaving, and the image and memory of his conversation with Titian flooded back. Did Veronica, I wondered, have any inkling of how they talked about her behind her back?

‘I believe you used to model for Titian?’

She turned and looked at me steadily. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I meant just what I said.’ My face must have given me away.

‘Caro,
how long do we have to go on with this childish game? You have the face of a chastened dog. The question you are asking me is did I ever sleep with Titian, who is well known to say that he cannot paint a woman unless he has tasted her. Well the answer is, ‘Yes I did – more than once.’ I needed the money, but more than that, I needed to find rich patricians to act as my benefactors and protectors, and to have my image in front of all his rich patrons was the best way to find them. And it worked. They all came flocking: nobles, merchants, bishops, cardinals. I became established.’

This was too much for me. ‘Did you sleep with the cardinal?’

‘Which one?’

‘The fat one.’

‘Probably They are all fat, except perhaps those who are sons and grandsons of the Pope – they tend to become cardinals much younger and one or two of them are quite lithe.’

My face must have fallen further, and she changed her approach. ‘Listen,
cam,
it is what I do for a living and as my way to survive as an independent woman in a man’s world. Yes, I have slept with them – almost all of them. That’s how this society works.’

I nodded, understanding but resentful. She took my arm and winked.

‘Just remember,
cam,
I may have slept with many men, but you are the only one who kept me awake.’

I stared at her, hoping it was true and that I had, somehow, reached her in a way the others had not. It was a vain thought, and she reacted to damp it down. ‘I do not need your permission to determine who I lie with, Richard.’

Her voice was hard, and I knew she was forcing me, finally, to accept the reality of the situation.

‘I know, but the thought hurts me, to think of you – you know.’

‘Would you think less of a friend if you found out he worked in a slaughterhouse?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Well think of it this way – I kill fat old pigs for a living. I just do it slowly, and they die happy.’

For the first time that day I laughed, and she laughed with me.

We continued walking, seemingly aimlessly, but all the while I was trying to steer our way gently towards Cannaregio and the convent.

We passed Tintoretto’s workshop and continued along the Fondamenta dei Mori. The recent storms had blown through and, although it was breezy the sun shone brightly and we were warm as we walked. We reached the Fondamenta della Sensa and passed the Trattoria Sensazione, and I was not surprised to see Pietro fishing in the canal outside. He recognized me and I wondered if he would embarrass me by making one of his cheeky remarks.

To my pleasant surprise, he did quite the opposite, and seeing me with Veronica, simply raised a hand and called
‘Buon giorno’
as we passed. We stopped and I introduced him to Veronica and we chatted about the weather, fish and the price of bread.

‘We have had to put up the price of the bread we deliver to the convents and they are all complaining. Especially that Chapter Clerk at Sant’ Alvise; she drives a hard bargain.’

I flicked my eyes across to Veronica, but she continued smiling, joining in the conversation with her customary ease. ‘Indeed. Some of these noble nuns are good negotiators. But they have every reason to fight for their position and I am on their side. The convents are a disgrace to the State and should be reformed.’

Pietro looked at me and then back to Veronica. ‘So long as they don’t stop them buying our bread. It’s good steady business, and we would go hungry without it.’

I leaned over his shoulder. ‘Even if the Chapter Clerk strikes a hard bargain?’

Pietro looked at me alarmed. ‘Don’t tell her I said that, will you?’ he whispered.

I placed a finger over my mouth and he grinned conspiratorially.

‘Buon p{scare,
’ Veronica called to him as we turned away and he resumed his fishing. ‘What a nice little boy. How did you get to know him?’ It was the opportunity I needed.

‘I met him by accident one day while I was exploring. He told me about the convents and took me to Sant’ Alvise, where his brothers deliver the bread and talk to the nuns. I was surprised how the nuns stand at the windows and talk to the young men outside . . .’

As if by a lucky coincidence, we arrived on the bridge beside the convent as I finished speaking. I pointed to the window where I had first made contact with Suor Faustina Contarini, and told Veronica the story, but without mentioning any names.

She reacted in her usual robust fashion. ‘Be careful,
cam,
you are dipping your toe in hot water. Which one are you interested in, or do you plan to save them all?’

‘How do you know I want to save her?’

She shrugged, smiling. ‘They all do – whenever a man mentions a nun, he either wants to save her or screw her. Most often it’s both, but if you wanted to screw her you would not tell me. Therefore it must be salvation.’

‘You are being unfair, Veronica. I have become aware of the nuns’ plight in general, and that of one in particular, whose name is Suor Faustina Contarini.’

I told her as much as I could remember from my talk to Suor Faustina. At the mention of her name, Veronica winced.

‘It is a typical tale, but with an unusual twist. You say your nun is called Faustina
Contarini.
That means she is from one of the most powerful families in Venice. Cardinal Gasparo Contarini died about thirteen years ago, and there are many other powerful men in the family – many on the Council. I don’t know which branch of the family she is from – there are a number. Most of the Contarini daughters are in Santa Caterina; others are spread about – but only in the better convents, you understand.

‘I believe the whole situation of daughters of noble families being forced into life imprisonment simply to maintain their family name is a disgrace, and I have told the Council so on many occasions. La Serenissima is not as serene as the men who run it would have you think. Most of the women are imprisoned, either in arranged marriages, where they are stuck in their
palazzi,
or in convents.

‘What makes the situation worse for your Suor Faustina is that you say the family money has dried up. You don’t know why?’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I think they lost a number of ships in a storm.’

She nodded. ‘That would explain it. There are fortunes to be made on these trading voyages, so people tend to risk all with a hope of great riches. If your ship comes home, as they say, then all is well, but each ship lost takes you ten steps backward, and to lose any more than two ships in a short period would indeed test the financial strength of the most powerful family.’

She took my arm and together we looked across at the windows of the convent. It was still morning and there was no sign of any of the nuns, nor of the crowd of youths who gathered in mid-afternoon. ‘This is a very difficult problem, Richard. I am sure you are well-intentioned, but you should be very careful – you could easily get out of your depth.’

I bit my lip, disappointed by such negative advice. ‘Is it possible you could find out any more about her? I would like to help her, but in truth I don’t know where to start.’

She promised to do her best, but she did not sound very encouraging. ‘Is she beautiful?’ The question seemed to come out of the blue. I nodded. ‘Yes, very. She is very tall and slender, with a straight back and an elegant way of walking. Her eyes are pale but piercing blue, though she usually hides them under drooping eyelashes. She has fine features, with high cheekbones, which accentuate the slope of her eyes. Her hands are long and slender, with fingernails carefully shaped, but not painted.’

Veronica pushed out her bottom lip. ‘You have not taken much notice of her, then, Richard?’ She was teasing me again.

‘Is she as tall as I am?’

I considered. ‘Quite a lot taller.’

‘Fatter than me?’

I tipped my head on one side, looking at her appraisingly
‘Much
slimmer.’

‘Hair?’

‘White-gold, catching the light as it shines through the window, framing her face to perfection.’

She looked out of the corner of her eye, calculating. ‘I am getting jealous.’

‘There is nothing to get jealous about. She is a nun.’

Veronica laughed aloud. ‘Oh, Richard! How much you still have to learn about the ways of women, especially the repressed ones. She is in a prison, and you come along and single her out as others have not, and offer to rescue her from her predicament?’

‘Yes?’ I could not see where she was leading.

‘And you don’t think she fancies you? You don’t think she lies in her cold convent cell at night and fantasizes about having you there beside her, strong arms holding her, your body moving against hers, before scooping her up and taking her away to your foreign country to live together, safe from the
discrete,
safe from the convent, and safe from her family who have rejected her?’

I looked at her in amazement. ‘Do you really think so?’

Veronica grinned conspiratorially. ‘She must do, mustn’t she?’

It was too much. I turned her away and we continued walking. Now it was Veronica who led the conversation. How had I found her? How did I discover her name? Did she respond at first or only later? What made me persist? How did we stay in touch?

I told her of the Trattoria Sensazione and the servant. The more the conspiracy unfolded, the more interested she became.

‘I will help you save your nun, Richard. Between us we can, perhaps, make your dreams come true – and maybe hers. Let me find out more about her, about her family and its losses, and help you find a way to get her out of there. It would be a wonderful blow for the freedom of women.’

Somehow I began to wonder if I was losing control of my little plan. I was grateful for Veronica’s help, however, and as a thick evening mist began to blow in from the sea I took her home before walking back to the Ca’ da Mosto, my head still spinning with enthusiasm, but my mood beginning to change as the mists thickened around me.

C
HAPTER
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