were holding its breath. I longed to find out what it was but at first I was too caught up by the transformations within.
The quiet canal that ran along the back of the casa had become a busy thoroughfare. Craft laden with merchandise appeared daily, unloading onto the ground floors. There were now frequent visitors and the house began to ring with accents, pungent smells and the noise of workers scraping barrels, boxes and bales across the floors below.
The changes beneath soon made their way to the first floor. Variety crept onto the platters of food that were painstakingly prepared by a new cook the Maleovellis employed and who took up residence on the floor above, along with a growing band of servants. Where once there were spaces on the walls and floors, fresh pictures and tapestries were displayed, dusted by the additional helpers who had also been found to restore the casa to its former glory. Giaconda’s wardrobe also altered. Gone were the unfashionable dresses I’d first seen her in, and which so impressed me, to be replaced with the latest trends sewn from lush, ornate fabrics.
When Giaconda brought to my room a gown designed especially for me, I first sank into a low curtsy. ‘Grazie mille, Signorina,’ I said, and tried not to show how great my pleasure was at receiving such a gift. The dress was a deep violet, much like the belladonna I would crush and drop into my eyes, so often these days I’d become accustomed to the sting. It would not do for the new servants to discover what I was.
I’d hastened my wash and, with Hafeza’s help, stepped gracefully into my new dress. Snug over my breasts, it clung to my waist, its full sleeves slashed to expose silver and pearl inlays. I’d never possessed anything so beautiful in my life. I’d never possessed anything, apart from my spectacles, that was for me alone. I could not stop admiring myself. Wherever there was a reflection – the glass of the windows, the sheen of a knife, the gilt mirrors that decorated the dark hallways, I would take the opportunity to look.
I knew it was my candles and the power they contained that had helped to turn the Maleovellis’ fortunes. They were well pleased with me. Over time, new clothes, shoes, masks and even some jewellery became more frequent and, I confess, expected. I, who had once appreciated hand-me-down britches and thought a scrap of paper from the canal and a piece of myrtle wax precious, began to covet these expensive things.
Dinner in my room became a more frequent occurrence, and I would both hear and sense laughter and movement in other parts of the casa long into the night. I stifled my natural curiousity. Ever since I was caught eavesdropping, I’d done nothing to make the Maleovellis doubt me again. I felt confident that my good behaviour would soon be rewarded in other ways.
I was right. Only it wasn’t in the manner I anticipated.
Now that Jacopo had left, my lessons in reading and writing also ceased. Not that I needed them anymore. I was able to shape my letters well and reading was no longer difficult as I simply absorbed the author’s intentions as I touched the parchment. I would look at the words, and the ideas and purpose behind them would form a context in my mind. It was not reading in the true sense, I guess, but it more than sufficed. Not only that, but it opened a world to me that my confinement within the casa denied. I devoured the various pamphlets and books that Giaconda allowed. I quickly graduated from shopping lists and household invoices to religious texts, philosophical treatises, ancient history translated from Hellenic into Serenissian, and what I loved best: poetry. There was something about the arrangement of the words, the pictures that filled my head and darted in and out of my heart that set my imagination afire.
Giaconda would draw me into discussions about what I was learning. I was astonished at how much she knew and, I admit, impressed. Able to recite poetry, remember important dates and events, even in other countries, converse about the merits of a particular artist or singer or quote lines from a popular play, she would challenge me to do the same. She also told me about the triumphs and misdemeanours of other nobiles, of courtesans and traders. It may have been gossip, but it was different from that I