Chapter 11 of the Dreaming.
I am finally on my Christmas Break :)
However, I will return to school on January 5 :(
Note: If you search for Primavera (painting) on Wikipedia, look for the detail of Primavera (the lady covered in flowers) and you will be amazed at the color of her eyes :)
Canto XI
What had the world become? Three men executed for a crime they did not commit, they hadn't even the chance to explain! Oh poor Ezio, what of him? Is he safe? Will he be alright? Serafina sat quietly near the windows as always, her paper and chalk were waiting idly for her to begin sketching. Like yesterday, she wore a simple white gown, no embroidery, no lining, just a plain piece of fabric to wear. Her auburn hair fell past her shoulders, she didn't want anything to constrict her skull, and her once pink lips were as pale as the snow outside. She inhaled deeply before starting her portrait.
She wanted to draw someone, something to ease the pain inside of her. She saw a wound on Ezio's lip while they were making love and while they were kissing, she wanted to ask him what had happened, and then she remembered Vieri talking smugly about how he managed to injure his opponent. Serafina traced her finger along her lips, imagining herself to be touching her lover's scar. She finished her work, satisfied that she was able to, and placed her chalk aside. It was a portrait of Ezio, he was smiling handsomely as always, and in his eyes she had drawn the same emotion they had both shared that fateful evening.
"And what is this?" The paper was quickly snatched out of her hands by none other than Vieri. He grimaced, his brows furrowed angrily at the sight of the wanted man, and he threw the artwork into the fireplace. Serafina yelled out, but was hastily shushed after being cautioned not to think or ever mention about Ezio Auditore. She cried silently and forced herself not to weep. If he was strong enough to endure all of what has happened then she will do the same, for him.
Francesco was returned to the palace on the very day of the execution, unharmed and free of allegations, he greeted his children with the same gruff manner as his son, and went to his office to speak with his uncle. Serafina paid no heed to his greeting or his entrance, she was thinking about the events prior today. It was Giovanni Auditore, Ezio's father, who suspected him of murder, a crime that was common within the family, and now that he was killed, or executed as Vieri would correct her, their father was free to do whatever he wants again.
It wasn't coincidence, Serafina didn't believe in coincidences, it was planned somehow, and it was a very good plan indeed. She had read too many stories and accounts of crimes for her to take in, and she was merely making use of her stored knowledge. However, no one will ever believe her story. She gathered her things soon after Vieri had left to do his business, she had never felt such anger flow through her being, she wanted to leave the palace, and she wanted Ezio to come back. Just this morning, terrible news landed on every person's door, the gonfaloniere Uberto Alberti was killed at Palazzo Vecchio, by none other than Ezio Auditore himself. He was stabbed, multiple times till he bled to death.
Serafina simply prayed for Ezio, knowing that his path of vengeance would lead him to go afield. Her life of solitary and loneliness returned, she was mostly seen in the courtyard with piles of books at her side, and from time to time she sews embroidery into fabrics. Her strolls were restricted. She had two Pazzi guards to accompany her to the chapel, but despite her short walks in public, people began to admire her beauty. Like Ezio, many tried to court her, and many times they failed due to a very protective brother. What caused Serafina to look so beautiful, even though her skin was pale and her eyes so ghastly one can remind them of a ghost? Perhaps it was because she matured, Ezio had thrust her into womanhood, and she was rather thankful that he did, for now the men of Firenze have a new beauty in their midst.
"My dear, you have another letter, and this time it is a relative of the Medici!" said Ursula as she passed an epistle to her young lady. December, January, and February had gone so fast, and now the spring solstice will come in Florence. Serafina (her auburn hair had grown so long it had to be cut to retain its knee-length feature) sat down with several maids to arrange a few bouquets for the house; it was her idea to clean the palace since it was rather gloomy these days, Jacopo thanked her for her kindness and gave her time to do such chore while he and the other Pazzi men went to work.
She had been wearing a light gown with red and blue flowers all over its bodice and skirt, she had adorned only the top portion of its sleeves, allowing her chemise to flow freely around her arms. She had made a wreath of flowers to pass her time and wore it gracefully like a crown, Serafina smiled upon receiving the letter and opened it to read the lovely message. She chortled when her suitor compared her to the fair shepherdess, Amaryllis.
"Poor boy, he longs for me, but I cannot have him. What did you say his name was again?" she asked her maid, folding the letter as it was before. "He is Lorenzo de' Medici's distant cousin, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici, I think you and he are of the same age," she then added "I also suggest you try to meet him." Serafina, still occupied with the roses in her hands, asked her why. "Because he is waiting, outside of the palace, and he would not leave unless you come out to say something!" The young girl sighed. Carrying the basket of flowers at her side, she ambled to the gates seeing Medici servants along the street.
Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco was a rather ugly man, in her opinion, with a small nose and big lips. He was speaking to another man, she recognized him as Sandro Botticelli, a very intelligent painter and he had done a portrait of Vieri and Fiorella before. Upon meeting their gaze, Botticelli basically stared at her then approached her cautiously. Serafina did not recoil, she was used to men walking up to her with dark gazes. The artist, excusing himself for his rudeness, began to trace Serafina's face and asked if her eyes were real. She assured him they were real, inherited from her maternal great-grandmother. Like every suitor, he said they were very unreal.
"You are so much like Cristina Vespucci, in beauty and poise," said he. "Thank you very much sir, I have not heard that sort of compliment for a while," Serafina replied. "But beauty depends on the being, and two beauties cannot be compared to, they have their own sense and their own character." Botticelli agreed with her, and then turned to Lorenzo with a big grin on his face. "I have seen what I need to see, and in my presence, here, is the lovely Primavera, the eternal bearer of life. Why, I should have at least a painting of you, as a gift of thanks for being my second muse." Serafina smiles, enhancing her beauty once more, and nods her head promptly.
"Very well then, I shall tell my father of your request, it does not matter whom you portray me as, I also thank you in advance for creating my portrait." Sandro Botticelli then excuses himself to begin the painting his client commissioned him to do. Lorenzo offered his arm to her, requesting for a stroll around the city, a guard comes up to them to take her basket away, and she links her pale arm around his, then they walk.
If only Lorenzo was handsomer like his cousin, he would have been a great companion and friend, and if he was gentler and less brusque, Serafina could have given him a chance. He was interested in her after noticing her during High Mass at Santa Croce, he was also interested in Cristina Vespucci but she rejected him almost too quickly, saying her heart belonged to someone else. Serafina heaved a sigh and concluded their walk near the Duomo.
"Messer Lorenzo, I fear I must stop our conversation here. You speak poetically, and I really admire that in a man, however, I cannot reciprocate whatever it is that you feel about me," said she. "Like Cristina, I have someone who captivated me, ensnared me in a trap that I fear I will never be free of. He has, in a way, brought out my true being, and you might wonder who this man might be. Forgive me, I cannot say, I must go." Serafina bowed, taking her basket again from the guard, and returned home to find the house spotless of any dirt.
The following week, she had received yet another letter, coming from another Medici. It seems as though Lorenzo was restless after their meet and now Il Magnifico has invited her to a party of some sort at their palace. Francesco wished to reject the offer but it was Fiorella who insisted they should attend, their social status needed to be repaired, and a personal invitation from Lorenzo de' Medici was very important. Francesco finally agreed and sent his children to the party. Serafina was dressed in a light pink gown, underneath it was a light-weight kirtle made of silk, and along the neckline were pink topaz jewels. Her hair was pulled up to many knots, leaving two braids in the front and a long tail wrapped in pink ribbons at the back. Fiorella was dressed in an emerald green gown with a gold kirtle underneath while Vieri settled for his favorite doublet and breeches.
Fiorella called her attire absurd, and without any regret, left the palace in a carriage along with Vieri. She was worthless yet again in their eyes. She had walked all the way to the Medici palace, her cheeks and forehead were flushed when she arrived, and the guests turned their attention towards her. Serafina kept her head high as she strode down the hallways, not even bothering to search for her brother and sister. She sat down, tiredly, on one seat and thanked God for guiding her during her journey. The nobles continued their festivity, mostly commenting about their business and such. Serafina looked up, seeing Cristina Vespucci arrive with another man. It was not Ezio, it was just a man. They had caught each other's glances, Cristina was unsympathetic towards her, considering that they have both fell for the same boy, and Serafina, who wished only for a quiet evening, did not want to associate herself with her. She stood and moved to another room, it was best if they were not together.
As the night progressed, Lorenzo de' Medici found her and asked if she could entertain his personal guests. Awestruck by his request, she nervously nodded, and with the help of the lute players, began to sing a song for them. They listened, some did not, and Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco kept his eye on her. After her song, more than a few people applauded, Lorenzo applauded the loudest.
"You were certainly extravagant Signorina Serafina," said Il Magnifico. "It was my pleasure sir, I have entertained you before and I have entertained you again." Lorenzo nodded, they spoke about Virgil and Ovid's poems, the society, and of Florence. She was quite keen in literature and arts, a rare trait in women nowadays who only talk of beauty and fashion. She proclaimed she had no talent of fashion whatsoever, offending several women surrounding them, and she would gladly wear something just and uncouth rather than covering herself in fraud and superficiality. Some of the men agreed, so did Giuliano de' Medici, and others shook their heads.
Serafina had kept her gaze away from Fiorella and Vieri, she was seated amongst the noblemen and women while they sat with the common folk. Attention was not her fault, she never asked for it nor did she ever want it. She was shy to be with the great Medici, though their compliments encouraged her to engage in conversation with them. They were her sort of people, they do not speak much of luxury or of self-importance, but of art and importance of life. When the evening came to a halt, they bid the young Pazzi girl a good evening and Lorenzo had even requested a carriage to return her home, thinking no one else had accompanied her.
Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco had talked to her only once that evening, to congratulate her for her artistic ability then left to talk to some other women. She leaned against the cushions of the carriage, her heart thumped normally in her chest, and yet she felt there was something or someone missing. She came home exhausted and was greeted warmly by her grand-uncle.
Over the next few days, Serafina had been invited to watch a horse race. Vieri participated in it, he asked her, unkindly, for her support, and she will gladly give her all. She wore a rose red gown with a pink kirtle; her hair was simply braided and covered by a pink cap. She situated herself in between her father and Jacopo, beside her grand-uncle was a man they had met along the way. He said his son was also competing in the race, his name was Paolo Serveto, a very wealthy merchant hailing all the way from Venezia, he had ships in Livorno, Genoa, and some in the Ottoman Empire.
Serafina had not paid attention well to the conversation, she was more focused on her brother cheating his way to the finish line. However, another competitor came up to his side, grinning widely, and pushed Vieri out of the way to win the race. Signore Paolo stood from his chair cheering for his son. The young lad approached them, he was a fine man, with light brown hair and opaque eyes, the young ladies called out his name 'Matteo! You are so wonderful! I love you Matteo!' but his eyes laid on Serafina, in an instant, he produced something from his doublet. It was a pink rose, attached to it was a white ribbon. She could not refuse such an offer and humbly took it. Francesco then introduced him to her formally.
He was to be her fiancé.