prison.
She turned toward her rooms then, surrendering to the exhaustion nipping at her, fatigue a small, hungry creature, its sharp teeth voracious for a feeding.
As soon as Aurelia entered the outer chamber of her apartments, three young women flocked around her, ready to do her bidding, no matter how simple, as if she herself were incapable of her own care.
She stood resolute within the hub of the whirlpool, allowing the wimple-clad young women to do their duty, answering their questions, delighting—despite herself—in their giggles as she described the men, the women, the clothes, and the food of the lavish night of entertainments. Aurelia allowed a degree of familiarity to burgeon between her and those who lived to serve her, for theirs were often the most intimate relationships she experienced.
“Now have a care, Teofila,” Aurelia chided as the young women rushed through their duties, removing the many layers of her evening clothes, placing her jewels in the strongbox, turning down the linens on the bed in the adjacent chamber. All the young girls were eager to be gone; on a night such as this, there was plenty of food, drink, and men left over to satisfy even the servants of the household. “Do not give your heart to the first cavalier who pretends to deserve it. There are far too many to choose from this night. You must make them earn your attention.”
Aurelia bit her heavy top lip, confining the grin brought out by Teofila’s embarrassed laughter. She felt an affinity toward the young girl, for she looked much as Aurelia did, chestnut hair of deep waves, eyes hinting of both greens and earthy hues, depending on her mood. It was how a sister might look; it was how Aurelia imagined her sisters did look.
Once Aurelia was in her nightgown and robe, hair unpinned and brushed out, a small fire sizzling in the grate in the bedchamber, all her cares were met and still the women hovered near, though their eyes looked to one another and the door with more and more frequency.
“Be gone, you old women.” Aurelia corralled them, shooing them with her hands as a farmer’s wife urged the chickens back to the coop. “I have had more than enough of your pestering.”
Her words chided them warmly. With grateful bobs, her attendants took their leave, giggles slipping along on the promises of the night that lay before them.
Aurelia once more stood alone, and she both embraced the solitude and despised it.
Like these twittering young girls, like the noblewomen still making merry in the grand ballroom below, Aurelia enjoyed the beauty this life offered, a life fit for a queen. The finest gowns, the most exquisite jewels, they were all hers at the flick of a finger. But as if cursed, things so easily come by meant little.
When she looked behind her, the endless sameness stretched back further than she could remember, and only more of the same lay ahead, the same stretch of road to be traveled day in and day out. The words she had spoken to Federico echoed in her mind; yes, she was dedicated to her duty, body and soul, to her one and true purpose. But when she heard the other women talking of their lives, their families, and their entertainments, it compounded the weight of emptiness she must bear.
Aurelia flopped down upon the floor at the foot of her bed, legs atangle in the silk linen, head hung in the cradle of her hands.
She never had any fun.
Four
And when, with gladness in his face,
he placed his hand upon my own,
to comfort me,
he drew me in among the hidden things.
—Inferno
F ifty-two men, naked to the waist save for the sweat of their efforts, ran in the massive, hard-packed sand pit of the Piazza di Santa Croce, flashing in and out of the shadow of its grand Basilica.
“To me, Pompeo, to me!” Battista screamed to his teammate, catching the glimpse of an opening ahead.
The young man obliged, hurling the heavy ball of giuoco del calcio fiorentino across the distance between them. Rushing to
She turned toward her rooms then, surrendering to the exhaustion nipping at her, fatigue a small, hungry creature, its sharp teeth voracious for a feeding.
As soon as Aurelia entered the outer chamber of her apartments, three young women flocked around her, ready to do her bidding, no matter how simple, as if she herself were incapable of her own care.
She stood resolute within the hub of the whirlpool, allowing the wimple-clad young women to do their duty, answering their questions, delighting—despite herself—in their giggles as she described the men, the women, the clothes, and the food of the lavish night of entertainments. Aurelia allowed a degree of familiarity to burgeon between her and those who lived to serve her, for theirs were often the most intimate relationships she experienced.
“Now have a care, Teofila,” Aurelia chided as the young women rushed through their duties, removing the many layers of her evening clothes, placing her jewels in the strongbox, turning down the linens on the bed in the adjacent chamber. All the young girls were eager to be gone; on a night such as this, there was plenty of food, drink, and men left over to satisfy even the servants of the household. “Do not give your heart to the first cavalier who pretends to deserve it. There are far too many to choose from this night. You must make them earn your attention.”
Aurelia bit her heavy top lip, confining the grin brought out by Teofila’s embarrassed laughter. She felt an affinity toward the young girl, for she looked much as Aurelia did, chestnut hair of deep waves, eyes hinting of both greens and earthy hues, depending on her mood. It was how a sister might look; it was how Aurelia imagined her sisters did look.
Once Aurelia was in her nightgown and robe, hair unpinned and brushed out, a small fire sizzling in the grate in the bedchamber, all her cares were met and still the women hovered near, though their eyes looked to one another and the door with more and more frequency.
“Be gone, you old women.” Aurelia corralled them, shooing them with her hands as a farmer’s wife urged the chickens back to the coop. “I have had more than enough of your pestering.”
Her words chided them warmly. With grateful bobs, her attendants took their leave, giggles slipping along on the promises of the night that lay before them.
Aurelia once more stood alone, and she both embraced the solitude and despised it.
Like these twittering young girls, like the noblewomen still making merry in the grand ballroom below, Aurelia enjoyed the beauty this life offered, a life fit for a queen. The finest gowns, the most exquisite jewels, they were all hers at the flick of a finger. But as if cursed, things so easily come by meant little.
When she looked behind her, the endless sameness stretched back further than she could remember, and only more of the same lay ahead, the same stretch of road to be traveled day in and day out. The words she had spoken to Federico echoed in her mind; yes, she was dedicated to her duty, body and soul, to her one and true purpose. But when she heard the other women talking of their lives, their families, and their entertainments, it compounded the weight of emptiness she must bear.
Aurelia flopped down upon the floor at the foot of her bed, legs atangle in the silk linen, head hung in the cradle of her hands.
She never had any fun.
Four
And when, with gladness in his face,
he placed his hand upon my own,
to comfort me,
he drew me in among the hidden things.
—Inferno
F ifty-two men, naked to the waist save for the sweat of their efforts, ran in the massive, hard-packed sand pit of the Piazza di Santa Croce, flashing in and out of the shadow of its grand Basilica.
“To me, Pompeo, to me!” Battista screamed to his teammate, catching the glimpse of an opening ahead.
The young man obliged, hurling the heavy ball of giuoco del calcio fiorentino across the distance between them. Rushing to
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