breath and said, ‘At least forty Bolognese lira.’
‘Find the guarantors and the affair is done,’ replied Remigio, with a smile that was meant to be benevolent but only managed to convey avarice. ‘Then we will occupy ourselves with selling that property of which you were speaking. A propos, where are you lodging?’
‘I would prefer not to say for the moment,’ answered Gerardo.
‘As you wish.’
The smile on the face of the banker vanished, indicating that he didn’t understand such a lack of trust after his speech about discretion. They bid one another goodbye and Gerardo left, following the servant to the kitchen.
It was a large room, lit more by the fire flaring in the hearth than by what little light came from the single window, which was fortified with thick bars. Fiamma was scolding a barefoot girl of about nine years of age with a runny nose who had a contrite air about her. A second, older girl wearing a grey bonnet sat at a shelf made of terracotta tiles near the fireplace, plucking a chicken.
‘Forgive me,’ said the mistress of the house immediately, making the delicate green veil that covered her head flutter as she turned to face him. ‘This numbskull didn’t find milk in the first place she tried, so instead of looking elsewhere she came back empty-handed. I’ll send her straight out again, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little.’
‘Please do not put yourself to any inconvenience, mistress,’ replied Gerardo. He went to sit down at the table in the centre of the kitchen and added, ‘Bread and cheese will do very well, if you have any.’
Fiamma immediately sent the girl to fetch some cheese from the larder, and then she herself poured him a tankard of wine from the pitcher on the table.
The little girl walked off sniffling and soon came back with a piece of fresh cheese on a thick slice of bread. Gerardo took the food, thanked them and began to eat in silence. He was ravenous, but tried not to tuck in too voraciously because he was in the presence of a lady.
Fortunately the wine had been diluted with water, but even as it was, perhaps because of his exhaustion after the night’s vigil, it went straight to his head, spreading a pleasant warmth through his body and a sensation of well-being that was most inappropriate in the circumstances. In the meantime the older girl had finished plucking the chicken, had scorched it by passing it over the flames and was now concentrated on gut
Ting it, putting the heart, liver and throat to one side and throwing the rest of the entrails into a wooden pail. ‘Is the fare to your liking, Messer?’ asked Fiamma. Gerardo was lost in thought, and contrary to both good manners and the Code of the templars to which he had sworn obedience, he raised his head and found himself looking her in the eye. The young woman did not avert her gaze, and they remained looking at one another until Gerardo, painfully aware of the impure manner in which he was staring at the woman, managed to utter in a dreamy tone, ‘It is all delicious, mistress.’
He heard a muffled giggle and turned quickly round. The little servant next to the fireplace was facing the other way as she worked, but Gerardo was certain that she had seen everything. He rose to his feet as if the chair were scalding him.
‘I must go now,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything. I haven’t felt like this for a long time.’
And after that strange comment, and a loud sneeze of adieu from the barefoot child, he went out of the kitchen, leaving the three females wondering what on earth he meant. They would have found it difficult to guess, for he didn’t even know himself.
He recovered his cloak from the entrance hall, went out into the street and set off for the seven churches that made up the Benedictine Basilica of Santo Stefano, the fulcrum of the architectonic arrangement commissioned centuries before by Bishop Petronio and known throughout Christendom as Jerusalem
‘Find the guarantors and the affair is done,’ replied Remigio, with a smile that was meant to be benevolent but only managed to convey avarice. ‘Then we will occupy ourselves with selling that property of which you were speaking. A propos, where are you lodging?’
‘I would prefer not to say for the moment,’ answered Gerardo.
‘As you wish.’
The smile on the face of the banker vanished, indicating that he didn’t understand such a lack of trust after his speech about discretion. They bid one another goodbye and Gerardo left, following the servant to the kitchen.
It was a large room, lit more by the fire flaring in the hearth than by what little light came from the single window, which was fortified with thick bars. Fiamma was scolding a barefoot girl of about nine years of age with a runny nose who had a contrite air about her. A second, older girl wearing a grey bonnet sat at a shelf made of terracotta tiles near the fireplace, plucking a chicken.
‘Forgive me,’ said the mistress of the house immediately, making the delicate green veil that covered her head flutter as she turned to face him. ‘This numbskull didn’t find milk in the first place she tried, so instead of looking elsewhere she came back empty-handed. I’ll send her straight out again, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little.’
‘Please do not put yourself to any inconvenience, mistress,’ replied Gerardo. He went to sit down at the table in the centre of the kitchen and added, ‘Bread and cheese will do very well, if you have any.’
Fiamma immediately sent the girl to fetch some cheese from the larder, and then she herself poured him a tankard of wine from the pitcher on the table.
The little girl walked off sniffling and soon came back with a piece of fresh cheese on a thick slice of bread. Gerardo took the food, thanked them and began to eat in silence. He was ravenous, but tried not to tuck in too voraciously because he was in the presence of a lady.
Fortunately the wine had been diluted with water, but even as it was, perhaps because of his exhaustion after the night’s vigil, it went straight to his head, spreading a pleasant warmth through his body and a sensation of well-being that was most inappropriate in the circumstances. In the meantime the older girl had finished plucking the chicken, had scorched it by passing it over the flames and was now concentrated on gut
Ting it, putting the heart, liver and throat to one side and throwing the rest of the entrails into a wooden pail. ‘Is the fare to your liking, Messer?’ asked Fiamma. Gerardo was lost in thought, and contrary to both good manners and the Code of the templars to which he had sworn obedience, he raised his head and found himself looking her in the eye. The young woman did not avert her gaze, and they remained looking at one another until Gerardo, painfully aware of the impure manner in which he was staring at the woman, managed to utter in a dreamy tone, ‘It is all delicious, mistress.’
He heard a muffled giggle and turned quickly round. The little servant next to the fireplace was facing the other way as she worked, but Gerardo was certain that she had seen everything. He rose to his feet as if the chair were scalding him.
‘I must go now,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything. I haven’t felt like this for a long time.’
And after that strange comment, and a loud sneeze of adieu from the barefoot child, he went out of the kitchen, leaving the three females wondering what on earth he meant. They would have found it difficult to guess, for he didn’t even know himself.
He recovered his cloak from the entrance hall, went out into the street and set off for the seven churches that made up the Benedictine Basilica of Santo Stefano, the fulcrum of the architectonic arrangement commissioned centuries before by Bishop Petronio and known throughout Christendom as Jerusalem
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