La Serenissima by Secret Heart
.: Standard Disclaimer :.
As usual, many thanks to Madam Hawke for your encouraging words, and Silly, without whom this story would have remained a figment of my imagination, never to be written down.
To myreviewers: Thanks again!I really appreciate it: Becx,silly, Princess-Serenity-324, koldy, RoxyBunny, Dancer, porteboit, Samanda Hime-sama, artemis366, A Fan, and angelsnow.
Grazie Tante! And to all of you, I give you the longest chapter so far !
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Panem et circenses - Bread and circuses. Food and games to keep people happy. (Juvenalis)
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Chapter 3
The biggest event of this hemisphere had arrived.
Under Foscari's rule, Venice was known for three things: wars, family feuds, and pageantries, and the latter was the grandest of all traits. Doge Foscari's masquerades would last for days; his processions were equally elaborate, rivaling those hosted by the Papacy and the Medici's Florentine balls.
This masquerade was of no exception. Extravagant gowns and elegant footwear swept across the halls of the Palazzo Ducale, accompanied by well-mannered gentlemen in sleek bejeweled dancing shoes and regal clothing. All donned incredible masks on their veiled faces, leaving only the eyes for appreciation, lending a sense of mysterious allure and anonymity.
The splendours of the fashion were mirrored by the highly decorated halls of the Palace. During dinner, sumptuous and exotic foods laid in wait for consumption while the polychoral musical compositions by Giovanni Gabrieli became background resonance.
Co-mingled with the noblewomen of the Pesaro, the Mocenigo, and the Foscari family were the courtesans. In 1443, the Venetian Senate banned the use of golden or silver cloth, and yet, fifty or so years later, numerous women at this masquerade glittered with the forbidden fabrics.
To a foreigner's eye, the virtuous noblewomen and the tainted courtesans of Venice looked indistinguishable in their garments of billowing sleeves and intricate designs. But to someone who knew the myriad aspects of women inside and out, Endymion knew that courtesans were not permitted by law to wear pearls, and the nobility were allowed the privilege.
The seating was arranged personally by the Doge, and Endymion was grateful that he was seated next to several of his friends and what he believed were the most beautiful women of Venice. Foscari was a fair and generous man: he mixed the nobles with the artisans, the women with the men.
By the intonations of the voices, the hand gestures and the equally revealing body language of each individual, he surmised that the ladies sitting next to him were Francesca, the courtesan he bedded several times, and Maria, another courtesan of the Ca' Foscari.
The matriarch of the Foscari courtesans, who others called Il Madre Stefania, was also there. Flanked by his side was the artist Giovanni Bellini, a distinguished ambassador from the far east, and his friends Maurizio Moro and Andre Morosini.
A gorgeous creature sat across from him: her gown showed off her stunning body, but it was her dazzling blue eyes betrayed the identity of the elusive courtesan with whom he sought an audience with.
He must remember to thank his uncle for this mitigated opportunity.
After the pleasantries were over, dinner ensued. Conversations drifted from one topic to another. At one point, Andre, wishing to tease his sister, exclaimed audibly: "Però, what a pity that some girls are more sharp-witted and clever in the realm of the philosophy and the abstract arts than others, while others waste their life worrying about mundane things like irreparable dresses!"
For the first time since eating commenced, the blue-eyed beauty spoke audibly.
"No, I believe that all girls have their own specialties."
Andre, piqued at the interruption, said, "for example?"
Serenity replied succinctly: "Your idea of mundane things and abstract arts are, in fact, equally important in the well-being of Venezia. For example, some women excel in the craft of tapestries and sewing, while others are quite fluent in the ancient Latin - the only good language left to us by history..."
"Aha," Maurizio interjected wittily, "but sola lingua bona est lingua mortua, and Latin is indeed very dead."
The blond woman pointed out his mistake at once.
"But sir, if Latin is indeed very dead, then why are you - a living creature as our eyes believe you to be - using it still?"
Maurizio, at a loss for words, gracefully allowed Serenity the pleasure of being correct. Laughter erupted from the few listeners, but not long after, the foreign diplomat interrupted.
"Really, dear lady? I don't believe it. I mean, no, I too believe that Latin is still very much alive, but do women really speak this highly cultured language? I have heard that those women likened to practicing sorcery and witchcraft, who dwell in Urbino, spoke this beautiful language, but I have never heard of such a thing in the civilized Venezia!"
"Well, ambassador - " Serenity was about to answer, when Maria joined in the conversation.
"I can prove it, ambassador," Maria said coyly.
"Well, a - shall we say - an acquaintance of mine taught me just last night a phrase that is suppose to be very enlightening."
Several voices spoke at once.
"Acquaintance, eh?"
"Let's hear it then!"
She cleared her throat loudly, and in an accent that slightly butchered the romance of Latin, she uttered coarsely: "Vir prudens non contra ventum mingit!"
A stunned silence swept across the vicinity immediately around her.
Then, Endymion could not hold it any longer: he tossed his head back, and burst out in laughter. The other men joined in, roaring with mirth. Maria looked absolutely horrid and extremely embarrassed.
Someone shouted at her: "Clearly, your cleavage is more impressive than your sense of decorum!"
She whispered to her neighbour in a faltered tone: "Sery, what did I just say?"
Serenity was thinking of how to spare her humility, when Francesca, ever the frank courtesan, intruded in.
"Silly Maria! I can't believe you trust anything that comes out of Tomaso's mouth when he's fucking you! After all, he says the most outrageous things!"
Maria, ever the redder in her face, cried: "Well what is it, Franni?"
"Darling, you just warned everyone that 'a wise man does not urinate against the wind'! Every man, regardless of whether he possesses the faculty of wisdom or not, would have realized that."
To add a few more nails into Maria's coffin of embarrassment, she added, "but sweetie, to say that kind of phrase in such a public place as this grand masquerade of the Doge is just a faux pas. You ought to learn the meaning of words before you use them, Maria!"
Maria, flustered and afraid of bursting out in tears, stood up and ran out of the dining hall. Her chair nearly tilted over. Innumerable pairs of eyes followed her humiliating flight.
With pity, Serenity tried to draw attention away from Maria. "Satis! Enough, Francesca. You've shown enough of your skills at Latin. But you're not the only female here who knows that ancient language."
Francesca's bravery petered out as Serenity scolded her behaviour.
Serenity commanded much power amongst the Foscari Palazzo's courtesans; in fact, all the courtesans of Venice, even in the Mocenigo Palazzo or the infamous Loredan pleasure palace all respect Serenity's graceful demeanour and her legendary, unbeatable wit.
Franni had all the courage and boldness when it came to challenging the powers of other women, but like the rest of the courtesans, she cowered at the feet of Serenity.
Endymion, seeing Serenity's subtle attempt to steer the conversation away from the poor girl, applauded her silently with an appreciative look. Serenity was wise beyond her years, and this was just an example of how she did not swoop down to the common practice of pettiness in the internal rivalries and jealousies amongst the courtesans.
Wishing to aid Sery, and well knowing that she can meet up to his challenge, he asked: "Well, Serenity, why don't you exhibit your aptness at Latin then?"
Serenity replied demurely: "Why, Endymion, I'm not the exhibitionist that you paint me to be."
Smirks rippled across the table. The diners, all well acquainted with double entendres, understood Serenity's rejoinder. She continued in a humble manner, "and anyway, I know Latin, but also, sciome nihil scire."
Bellini joined in the conversation: "Well said, well said! I always say, Socrates was one of the greatest philosopher to have walked this earth."
"I disagree." Endymion responded. "He was great, only if you count the fact that he educated Plato. I believe Plato is the greater man."
"Yes, well then, let's take a look at the line 'scio me nihil scire,' which I will take the liberty of translating to as: 'I know that I know nothing'. Socrates was an immaculate debater. He could talk his way out of any situation, and yet he was humble enough to admit that he knows naught. Even our beloved Cicero said that 'Socrates brought down philosophy from the heavens to the earth.'"
Endymion grinned in anticipation of his rebuttal: "That is true, my dear Bellini, but he alone may have the knowledge that he knows nothing. What's the point of that? Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter your knowledge is nothing when no one else knows that you know it
Many gentlemen applauded, while the women not familiar with Latin sat frustrated.
Serenity smiled. "Endymion, don't be so insolent to Bellini, when simia quam similis, turpissimus bestia, nobis! how like us is that very ugly beast the monkey."
The diners nodded in amusement, some saying: "Hear hear, Serenity is uttering the admirable orator's idioms!"
Endymion feinted an injury, clutching his heart as if Sery stabbed him, and said meekly: "Touché, Serenity, for your high regard of me as a mere animal."
Seeing as some of the women are getting annoyed at Serenity for stealing the limelight, and not wishing to cause trouble for Sery, the Madre tsked at both Endymion and Sery, and said: "Sunt pueri pueri, puerilia tractant (Children are children, and they do childish things.) Now let's end these silly games, and converse back in our vernacular language."
Both mockingly obeyed. Conversations once more involved everyone, filled with light banters, serious flirtations, and perhaps something much more meaningful.
Meanwhile, between the eighth course and the desserts, between the limoncello and the heavenly tiramizu-flavoured gelato, Serenity learned to appreciate Endymion's humour again, and Endymion began to see Serenity as more than just a courtesan.
The torre dell'orologio struck five just as Serenity left the Doge's Palace. She allowed Endymion to escort her home. Together, they made a beautiful couple: a woman, dressed in fine fabrics with a figure to match; a man, tall and dark, like the prince of ancient faerie legends. Both were aware of only each other.
While dancing with Serenity, Endymion learned that she was still a bit wary of him. He wanted to be more acquainted with her - as one gets acquainted with a courtesan - but waited for the appropriate moment to do so.
Reading between the lines, he came to the realization that he needed to earn her trust - he needed to show that he could be just as good a friend to Serenity as he was to Serenio.
Surrounded by silence except for the cooing of doves, they crossed the piazza as the movement of the waves broke on the wooden planks in foamy patterns. A sudden chill swept by as they made their way to the steps of Ca' Foscari.
Endymion saw that Serenity shivered slightly. Just as he was about to take his burgundy cloak off to lend it to her bare shoulders, her hand extended to stop him.
"Endymion, it's alright. I'll be in the warmth of my room in just a minute."
The knight-in-errant in him felt disappointed at his chance to impress her, but he understood her need to be independent: remembering the words of his uncle, he knew that she worked arduously by herself to gain the respect that she received now.
He tied the strings of the cloak back, and instead, dared to ask her casually, "I know you are still fluent in Latin, but pray, do you still enjoy reading as much as you did before?"
Serenity smiled genuinely. "Si, yes! It is too bad that Doge Foscari did not install a library within this palazzo. I would love to have an easier access to books."
"Well there's an easy solution for that. Come to my library, Sery, and you can read all the books that I possess."
He said it with a seemingly practiced candour that Serenity immediately caught on.
"Oh come on now, Endymion, you think I would fall for that?" Serenity jested, her eyelashes blinked rapidly, coyly.
"You just want to seduce me, seeing as how popular and pretty I am now, you simply want to vie for my attention under the pretense of reading..."
Endymion laughed. "Come now, let's be friends again. I missed you ... and please, call me Endy once more."
"Alright, Endy. But still, isn't your father a frequent user of the library? I didn't know you were into voyeurism, or worse yet, incest."
He tensed up for a split second, then said tersely: "I mean it. I just want to be friends."
He looked intensely at her.
The atmosphere was still. Suddenly, the aftermath of the ball, the glitter and lights rushed back to him. But they were the only ones in the ballroom. Only they existed in that moment, in the way he gazed at her, in the way their bodies, taut from dancing, tried to separate from each other. Still he clung to her tightly, following the pulse of the music with exact precision.
Again, his hand tightened against her waist. Her lips parted slightly from the breathlessness of the quick steps: her lips looked incredibly luscious, so soft and vulnerable …
Yes, he remembered that moment. But he did not want to hurt her or betray her trust. If it was just a friendship that she wanted, he would along with it ... for now.
The memory hushed and faded away.
"Come visit," he repeated, "and no, I built myself a wing that is separate from the rest of the house, so no, I'm not going to seduce you ... "
Not just yet, he added silently to himself.
"Just come in the afternoon, Sery," he continued. "I'll be there."
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Serenity joined her friends as they winded down from the long hours at the masquerade. The courtesans gossiped and compared stories. She noticed that a few courtesans were missing.
She smirked: perhaps they played their cards right at the ball.
Stripping down to her tight pink corset, Francesca began conversing with Serenity: "Sery darling, I remembered you conversed with Maurizio this evening."
"Yes, what about it?"
"He's very handsome. I noticed his figure as he danced with some other women, but I didn't get a chance to secure him. Do you think you could ...?" Franni waited for Serenity to finish her question.
"No, Franni, I don't think so," she answered while taking off the sapphire necklace off her creamy neck.
"Sery, come on now, courtesans are suppose to share with each other!"
"Franni, what I meant was, Maurizio wouldn't want you one way or another."
"Why?" she pouted.
"That's because he leans the other way."
Realizing it was useless to pursue the subject, Francesca uttered: "What a pity that such a beautiful face as his would be wasted on other men. So anyway, what about that Endymion there? I saw you talking to him for most of the night."
Serenity's lips pursed. "Nothing's going on."
"Darling Sery, I was just curious. I have been with him before - "
"I know," Serenity gave Francesca a narrow, pointed look, reminding her of the time she borrowed Sery's room for the night.
" - and I can attest that he's a great lover, a generous one at that - and not just in the sense of material compensation."
"Of course I know that. You don't think the gossip about the most virile man to roam this palace have not reached me?"
"Then what are you waiting for? He is obviously attracted to you..."
"No, I don't think so. Not in that way anyway ..."
Puzzled, Francesca asked: "what do you mean?"
She clammed up. "Niente; nothing. I must return to my room now." And with that, she made her way out of the common room.
Francesca frowned. Serenity was hiding something, she was sure about that. And it seemed to have flustered her so. Perhaps she could use this knowledge to her advantage. After all, even though Serenity was a friend now, she did not put their friendship above business. She could become the reigning queen of the courtesans: just as soon as Serenity got out of the picture.
Maybe fucking Endymion had more benefits than just simply carnal pleasure.
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As she was undressing herself, she thought about what Francesca said. No, it was impossible: even if he was attracted to her, it was so because she was the only link to his past - to his childhood.
Any grown person would glorify and exaggerate the memories of their lost childhood, and she believed that Endymion was of no exception, especially since he seemed to have cut loose all his other relations to his youth, except those of his family's.
Otherwise, why did he act so angry when she used his nickname in front of Francesca? And when they were dancing just an hour ago, he looked away every time she mentioned about the past.
Yet, he accompanied her home, and flirted with her.
All for what?
To remember the splendour of those days when the success of sneaking out of one's own house can brighten the whole day? Or, to grief properly for a childhood that was no longer there? Better yet, was he merely grasping for the only thing that remained behind - her? The memory of Serenio - his supposed best friend whom he abandoned, never to be seen again, until - now?
Socrates was right: all Sery knew was that she did not know.
She did not know what to think. Back then, Endymion seemed very open and ready to share secrets, but in fact, she did not know much about him. Even now, all she heard were second-hand rumours, just like what Francesca kindly reminded her.
So he was a great latino lover? One that most courtesans - hell, most women - would fall for? So he can charm his way out of anything.
So what? Should she pine for him?
No, it couldn't be. We could only be friends. Nothing more, nothing less.
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Please review! Thanks!
Terms:
sola lingua bona est lingua mortua: the only good language is a dead language
torre dell'orologio: clock tower
Note:
Serenity's musings near the end of the chapter is an obscuretribute to one of my favourite poets - Wordsworth. Can you spot the reference?