Read Online Veronica COURTESAN by Siobhan Daiko - Free Book Online Page B

been done, I’ll go to bed and wait for you. Maurizio has the night off tonight, but his services won’t be needed, will they?’
    Maurizio has become a manservant as well as my boatman. A man is needed to discourage violence among my clients. There have been some, over the years, who would take me too roughly for my tastes. I always keep a bell handy, and if I ring it, Maurizio arrives almost immediately. I kiss Lena’s cheek. ‘You know I couldn’t manage without you, don’t you?’
    ‘Even if I continue to resist Count Tron’s pleas to join in with your trysts?’
    ‘He teases you,’ I laugh. ‘For him ’tis but a game.’ And it is, of course. A dalliance, a distraction, a way of defusing the tensions of his duties. I’m under no illusions that he could be in love with me.
     

     
    My guests and I dine on roast goose and chestnuts, after an antipasto of sliced cold meats and a primo of pumpkin gnocchi. Domisilla and Anna wait on us and serve a fresh green salad mixed with chopped goose liver. Red wine from the mainland flows freely throughout the meal, and we finish with grapes, apples, and cheese from the Dolomite mountains. I nibble my food; I don’t wish to grow fat like many of the noblewomen I see in church. They must have little with which to occupy themselves other than eating…
    Domenico, Marco (praise God), and the artist, Tintoretto, grace my company this evening. Talk soon turns to the war against the Turks.
    ‘There’s been a battle off the south-west of Greece at Lepanto,’ Domenico says. ‘Our 44 gun galleasses have routed the sultan’s forces.’
    I tremble. ‘What news of casualties?’
    ‘About 8,000 dead on each side, but our victory was complete. The Holy League captured over a hundred Ottoman galleys and many thousands of men, liberated about 15,000 enslaved Christians, and sank or burned about 50 galleys.’
    ‘How many galleys did we lose?’
    ‘Only twelve.’
    I clasp my shaking hands. ‘What news of Andrew Tron?’
    ‘He’s safe.’
    Relief washes through me. ‘ Grazie a Dio! ’
    ‘I propose to paint a masterpiece depicting the battle,’ Tintoretto announces. The artist takes a sip of wine before wiping his bushy grey beard and moustache. ‘’Tis our first great defeat of a Turkish fleet.’
    Marco Vernier picks up a grape from his plate, pops it into his mouth, and then spits out the seeds into his hand. ‘They say it will be the last and greatest engagement with oar-propelled vessels. We are moving away from galleys to galleons in our Navy.’
    ‘And not before time,’ says Domenico. He smiles at the artist. ‘You should paint Veronica too.’
    ‘That would be my pleasure.’
    I catch Marco looking at me, his eyes burning, and my heartrate quickens.
    We retire to the portego, where I entertain them by playing the lute, a Fantasia by Francesco Canova da Milano which I’ve been practising for days.
    Domenico applauds as I strum the last notes, ‘Brava! Brava! Tell me, Veronica! What are you writing now?’
    ‘I’m thinking of following Tullia d’Aragona’s example and setting my poems in Capituli ’
    Marco shuffles forwards in his chair. ‘ Capituli ?’
    ‘A poem from a different poet, followed by a response from me. Or a poem from me, followed by a response from another poet.’
    ‘Sounds like a challenge.’
    ‘Do you accept the challenge, my lord?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    Clasping my hands together, I give him my widest smile.
     

     
    I spend the next two months waiting for Marco’s challenge. Nothing. He doesn’t even attend his uncle’s literary salon. When I find out that he has returned to the mainland, I resolve to try and forget him. My beloved crow, Andrew, is back in Venice; I shall give him a hero’s welcome. Nothing will be too much trouble for my brave defender of the Serenissima. He’s my best lover, too, the one who sparks my desire the most. Truly, I’ve missed him. My other patrons take their pleasure too quickly, and leave