Daughters of the Doge (62 page)

He did not move. ‘Not in England?’

I shook my head emphatically. ‘In no event in England.’

‘And if I give you my permission, my authorisation, to ask my daughter to marry you and she refuses?’

It was a test, but a simple one.

‘Then I shall remain within the Republic of Venice, either as an unhappy medical student, or as an unhappy painter.’

Ayham turned to Yasmeen and embraced her. ‘You were right. He is good, very good.’

He offered me his hand. ‘You have my approval, my permission and my authorization. Now you will need to polish your words again, I fear, for she is much more difficult than I am.’ He turned to his beloved daughter, smiling, but with a tear in his eye. ‘Much more difficult.’

C
HAPTER
76

August the 30th 1556 – Fondamenta dei Mori

I should have felt reinforced by my conversation with Ayham, but as I stepped through the door of Tintoretto’s workshop the following morning, I was nervous.

Courtenay remained too ill to travel, but Thomas thought he would improve in another day or so and asked me to delay until then. I decided that the next step was to find out whether, in the event of my marrying Yasmeen and taking her away to Padua, there was any possibility of Tintoretto accepting Faustina as her replacement.

As soon as Jacopo came into the studio I asked him if it would be possible to have a private meeting later that morning, and he promptly agreed. So promptly, indeed, that I began to wonder whether he had anticipated my approach. We met at eleven, when the sun no longer lit the studio directly and the model had left. I followed Jacopo into the courtyard and automatically flicked my eyes towards Yasmeen’s office.

‘She’s out seeing a client. I made sure it would be a long meeting.’

Jacopo’s remark convinced me that this game was running ahead of me. I explained my desire to marry Yasmeen and he nodded sagely, completely unsurprised. I told him I had been trying to choose between medicine and painting and had decided on the former if the University of Padua would have me. This information, too, was casually received.

‘My concern, Jacopo, is that if I am accepted by both the university and Yasmeen, and she comes with me to Padua as my wife, then I would be leaving you with a serious problem.’

He nodded. He bit his lip. He scratched his head. He even bit a fingernail for effect.

‘Who told you?’ I asked.

Tintoretto laughed like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Oh, just about everybody except you! And now you want to fix me up with a blonde-haired nun who walks and talks like a queen, looks like a princess, is a qualified book-keeper, and has known all the nobility and the senior churchmen in this city since she was a child?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, something like that.’

He smiled. ‘Sometimes life is so tidy that it seems unreal. Last week, I was invited to the Convento di Sant’ Alvise, to quote for a new altarpiece. The invitation came from a certain member of the Contarini family, the Chapter Clerk in the convent. The family are very good customers of mine. She suggested that I might be the right man for the job and we negotiated a price. Sixty ducats. I wanted ninety, but she beat me down. She can certainly negotiate. She introduced me to the abbess, who told me the convent would soon come into some money; not a lot, but for this reason she felt the convent could now afford to replace its damaged altarpiece.’ He looked at me quickly. ‘Let me guess at the ransom you are paying to release this young nun. Would it, by any chance, be in the vicinity of sixty ducats?’

I shook my head in amazement. ‘How did this Chapter Clerk come to choose you, Jacopo? To do this work, I mean?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It appears she is on speaking terms with a certain fallen lady. You may have seen her; she models here quite often. Apparently, she was talking to Yasmeen and heard that she may have to leave here. Nothing certain, you understand. Anyway, this fallen lady thought it would be tidy if your sixty ducats found their way back here, and suggested that, if the Chapter Clerk agreed, well, it would be, how shall we say. . .?’

I could hear Veronica’s voice as I spoke. ‘Tidy? Perhaps even
symmetrical?’

He spread his hands.
‘Ecco! Architettura pura.
The lady is an architect.’

‘And in your view, is this architecture robust? Is the building just pretty, or will it stand up to the weather?’

‘I think it will be a fine building, a cathedral.’

I stared at him in amazement. ‘Then you agree?’

He spread his hands and shrugged again, as if he had no responsibilities in the world. ‘Yes, I agree, but the decision is not mine.’

I looked at him, confused. ‘Not yours? Then whose decision is it?’

He turned in his chair and pointed towards the door behind him. ‘We, Richard, are now the observers. The decision is Yasmeen’s. If she rejects you, the whole edifice, the whole cathedral, falls apart.’ He looked at me conspiratorially and whispered. ‘And in any case, first we need to be sure the nun agrees. I heard a rumour she was talking to Titian . . .’

C
HAPTER
77

September the 1st 1556 – Convento di Sant’ Alviseo

Tintoretto and I arrived at the convent together and asked for the Chapter Clerk. There were angry looks from the old
discrete
who ushered us into the parlour, where we were joined by the abbess herself. She gave me the careful smile I expected, but seemed on much more friendly terms with my companion. So the abbess had been involved in the previous week’s discussions? It seemed that Venice was (as always) looking after its own and I, as the outsider, would play catch-up as best I could.

‘Gentlemen. Good afternoon. So good of you to call again. Suor Faustina will be with you in just one moment; I asked her to prepare some accounts for the visit of the Patriarch, and she is just on the point of completing them. Meanwhile, some
biscotti
and sweet wine, perhaps?’

Tintoretto and I declined her hospitality but confirmed that we were in no hurry and would be happy to wait while the
soura
finished her accounts.

I knew she was coming by the rapid clack of her footsteps along the corridor, accompanied by the lighter but faster patter of Felicità’s slippers. They entered the parlour together, looking confident. The abbess beamed, made her excuses and left.

‘Signor Tintoretto! Richard!‘ Faustina turned to her young partner and introduced us.

‘Felicità, this is the famous painter Jacopo Robusti, known to the world as Tintoretto, and Richard Stocker you already know. These gentlemen are our salvation. Or at least, I hope they are. We shall no doubt soon find out.’

It was typical of the woman I was getting to know. There was no dancing around; she got straight to the point and established the purpose of the meeting in seconds. She also made it abundantly clear that she expected us to deliver on our promises.

Faustina’s handshake was like her introduction: firm and confident. Felicità’s, in contrast, was cool, soft and uncertain. She looked at us like a schoolgirl (which, in many respects, she was), then retreated to sit quietly in the background. Her huge brown eyes moved from one to the other when we spoke, but for the main part remained fixed on Faustina.

‘Jacopo. Perhaps you would start.’

He looked at me, surprised. ‘No, Richard. I think this is your proposal; I only play a part in it. Please.’

I saw Faustina’s quick eyes flick from one of us to the other. Was there dissention in our plan already? she seemed to ask.

‘Suor Faustina,’ I began. ‘Some time ago we met and you told me your story. I agreed to take action to remove you from this place and—’

‘To remove
us
from this place,’ Faustina interrupted.

‘Indeed, to remove the two of you from this place and to assist you in finding an alternative life here in the city.’

‘An alternative life
together,
here in the city.’ Faustina was having no uncertainty.

‘Yes, exactly.’

I looked round the room and everyone was nodding. So far, so good, Faustina smiled encouragingly. She was having her own way and enjoying it.

‘I have come to a legal agreement with the abbess, under which certain monies will be paid when you are released, and that such a release will take place on or before the first of October. In the meantime, I have made a smaller payment on account to extend your allowance until the end of September.’

Faustina smiled and nodded encouragingly to Felicità. I continued.

‘My major concern is that your family will continue to use their power to prevent your release from this place and your subsequent employment—’

Her hand was up, and I stopped talking. She shook her head slightly, as if frustrated by the need to go over old ground for the benefit of the ignorant.

‘It is not a problem. I have spoken to my father and grandfather. They were both unhappy to see me enter here in the first place. My father told me I have always been his favourite and it broke his heart to see me so placed. That is why he made my allowance so generous: he wanted to atone for what he knew, deep down, was a sin. It grieves him that he is himself brought so low he can no longer afford to free me himself. However, he is eternally grateful to you, Richard, and has told me that if ever his good name can be of assistance to you, you only have to ask. It was very upsetting to see such a proud man have to admit that, for the present, his good name is all he can offer. One day he will rise again. I am sure of it.’