Chapter 6 of The Dreaming.
The aftermath of Vieri's mistake. Ezio has no appearance for this chapter, but he will come again soon in the next.
Sono spiacente if this chapter is a bit short, I was busy with Literature exams.
Canto VI
"What on earth Serafina?" said Jacopo upon seeing his grand-niece entering the courtyard, he had come home early from his visit to his last grand-niece, Viola, in Rome. Serafina stopped dead in her tracks like a rat caught by a feline, she swiftly hid the tattered bible behind her back, unfortunately, the same book had slipped out of its boundaries again, striking the floor with a loud thump that forced Serafina to close her eyes and purse her lips steadfastly. Jacopo ordered his servants to leave them in privacy, he approached the young girl, noticing the small red blotch on her pale cheek.
It was obviously not a blush, nor any sort of cosmetic. Did someone have the ingenuity to hurt a maiden? A Pazzi at that! There were endless possibilities, numerous nobles who were scheming against their family, and even middle-classmen who wish them dead for good. Gently, Jacopo placed a wrinkled hand on the girl's cheek, since yesterday he had only heard reports of accidents, sprained ankles, a mysterious rise in temperature, and now this. Serafina can not be allowed in public anymore, she must possibly stay indoors.
"What happened to you? Who is the bastardo that harmed you?" inquired Jacopo.
"Nonno, I can explain—I was with Vieri, we were at the chapel giving our thanks, when this man appeared after—"
Before Serafina could finish her explanation, Jacopo held her by the shoulders tightly. "Who is responsible for it? I shall have his head on a silver platter!" he exclaimed. Were all the Pazzi men identical in violence, cruelty, and impatience? What on earth was going on in this family? Jacopo's questioning came into an abrupt halt when Francesco appeared at the stairwell, he had seen the broken bible, the bruised cheek, and the look of fear in his daughter's eyes. He told Jacopo to retire to his chambers after that long journey, while he himself will investigate on this matter.
"If I catch that figlio di cagna, I will truly chop his head and feed it to a wild boar! I am serious!" Jacopo's shouts echoed through the stairwell and the faint cough was also heard. Francesco kindly told Serafina to sit on the bench, the gesture astonished her, and she remembered what he had said before in the early morning. Serafina smiled and curtsied politely. When she moved out of her spot, Francesco bent down to pick up the book of Corinthians from the gray flooring; he sat down next to her with the small collection of verses in his gloved hand. Serafina then apologized for destroying her grandmother's bible, it had been some sort of heirloom for her, and the only piece she had left of her.
Francesco waved his hand at her, saying that it was fine, that he will buy her a new one soon enough. The tender exchange the father and daughter made was erratic, the servants had to stop and chatter about the two. How sweet they were, one says. This is such a special occasion indeed, we must be thankful to God, says the other.
"Now, do you mind explaining to me what had occurred at the chapel? I had thought you have only gone there for prayers, not for skirmishes." he tilts her chin up and stares into the bright gray eyes Serafina kept, an obvious inherited attribute from her true father. "Sono spaciente father," she said softly "Curiosity is the reason for my injuries. I have long heard stories about our rivalry with other houses, which is why I pray that it will end soon." Serafina turned away from her father's gaze to look at her hands and feet.
"But it will end Serafina," said Francesco "However, now is not the hour. Our enemies will be defeated—I assure you." Then she faces him again, her eyes sparkled, ready to shed tears for her justice that was lost in their hearts. "Then what of the innocents? What of those who can barely defend themselves? Could you not spare them as did Gesú Cristo?" she asked, out of mercy for the ones bearing wrong names. Francesco heaved a sigh, encasing his daughter in an one-armed embrace, he stroke her arm till she ceased hiccupping.
"Whom shall we spare then?" he said. Serafina looks up, surprised at the suggestion her father had spoken. Is this true? Was he really planning to settle with the Auditore?
"There is this one family, the ones Vieri despise for no reason," said Serafina quietly. "Vieri despises many families, especially those who are more athletic than he is. Whomever is his enemy, I will see too it that my son bears forgiveness." At that priceless moment, Serafina embraced her father tightly, kissed his brow, and thanked him dearly.
"And so? What is the House?" Francesco asked. "It is the Auditore, father, they have been the ones who cared for me when I had sprained my ankle, and they showed me a side of familial love I had thought of which is nonexistent until this day." Auditore, the name truly rings a bell in Francesco's mind. Ah, the Auditore, wealthy family, handsome children, and a good career. All of those traits were perfect ingredients to make Vieri's blood simmer. Francesco stood, excusing himself to head back to work, Serafina followed him, wishing him a thoughtful goodbye.
Just as he walked away, he spotted Vieri entering the palace, his clothing dirtied, and his face battered. His son stopped, his gaze quickly avoided him, and his legs shivered. Francesco glanced back at Serafina who also turned away from him. Regardless of not being an appropriate spectator to the incident, the Pazzi head understood it almost instantaneously. It was a sort of fatherly intuition, just by looking at his children, he will know if one is left out and if the other needs attention or if the other has caused serious injury to their own sister.
He advanced towards Vieri, effectively smacking him at the side of his head, and seizing him by the nape harshly that he cried out in pain. Serafina took slow steps back, mouth agape, and heart racing. She did not know what to do and hid behind one of the columns supporting the arcading, Francesco shouted, kicked, and beaten his own son, she closed her eyes shut, and silently she prayed this will end sooner than she believed. When she opened them again, to her dislike, she saw Vieri kneeling at his father's feet, begging for forgiveness.
"Beg forgiveness, from your sister!" The tip of Francesco's boot collided with Vieri's chin, knocking him into the ground. Serafina bit her bottom lip and tried to come near her fallen brother but a harsh voice commanded her to stay away. Francesco ordered her to go upstairs and remain there for the rest of the day while he dealt with Vieri's behavior. Serafina could do nothing but comply; she rushed up the staircase in tears, and hid inside her bedchamber for the remainder of the day.
Serafina did not see Vieri the next day, the palace servants were busy decorating the grand dining room for the festivity tonight. She wore a stiff red gown with its skirt embroidered in gold threads, the sleeves too were red in color and were attached with the use of black strings, the neckline itself had assorted jewelries while her hair was brushed neatly to its usual knot, and one plait was studded in pearls. She placed the distressed bible on top of a counter, beneath her late grandmother's portrait. She muttered a quiet apology for destroying her favored book then quietly left the gallery.
Gold curtains decorated the loggias, the courtyard was clean of any litter, and the floors were washed till one can see his own reflection. She saw Fiorella leaving the house to visit one of her suitors in the Santa Maria Novella district. She was wearing her bright orange gown made of silk and bronze threads; the colors heartened her tanned complexion, making her darker than before. Serafina stared at her own hands; they were pale compared to her older siblings, as well as Viola. She had yet to ask her father about her strange dissimilarity.
Serafina arrived at the door of her brother's chamber without thinking, she tentatively pushed the oak door, eager to see him again. Vieri's bedroom was dark and somewhat gloomy, his bed had black velvet tapestries, and a portrait of him riding a majestic black horse hung above the prominent fireplace. In the middle of the room, a tiger's hide laid outstretched with its mouth open wide to show its fangs.
Vieri always had a thing for luxury and exotic belongings, he was always given what he wanted, just like Fiorella, and Serafina had to be asked personally. Unlike them, she waited patiently for her father or grand-uncle to ask for anything. Vieri and Fiorella would just walk up to them and demand certain, and sometimes expensive, things. She saw Vieri laying on his bedspreads of fox fur and velvet, his bed's curtains were pulled aside by gold tassels, and a pearly white bandage was wrapped around his head to protect his injury. He did not deserve such beating; it was only a mere slap, a warning gesture.
But Serafina felt another prevailing reason creep up to her spine; she thought he deserved it bitterly, for he reprimanded her for fraternizing with his enemies. He was wrong and she was right. Yet, she can't help but pity him, for all he ever needed was attention and praise: Good job Vieri! Nicely done! That's my son! He inherited his pride from me! None of those were uttered by Francesco, his own father. All she could ever recall was: How dare you speak in such tone! I do not care, do as you wish, I have more important things to discuss than your petty games! During that time, Serafina's words had no use in them. She spoke with truth and modesty, only to have them turn away. Now everything has changed in an instant. The fights were bloody, the words too unforgiving, and the respect each had for the other diminished greatly. Serafina sat on an armless chair right next to the bed; the maids had just cleaned the room the moment before she entered. Softly as she could, Serafina spoke to her resting brother whilst holding his callous hand.
"I know what you did was just out of pure whim, it was not your intention to hurt me brother. Your sense of justice differs from mine and they hardly compliment each other, but know of this Vieri, I have been taught to forgive others even if they caused me maltreatment, I do not wish for anyone's soul to burn in Hell nor do I want yours to be there too. Mamma could have done the same if she were alive. I love you dearly, brother, and as a sister I have to understand why you commit such acts of sin. I will always pray for you, no matter what, for you are my brother, Vieri de' Pazzi. I pray you understand these words my brother, because I yearn only for peace and love between us."