Fruit of the Golden Vine Page 9

  “Yes.” Felise scrunched her face. “First, I woke up, and I looked out my window. I saw a bird sitting on the old tree near the vines, so I drew it.”

  “What manner of bird was it?”

  “A black one.”

  “Was it large? It may have been a raven.”

  “A large black raven. That’s what it was.” Felise grinned at Adelina. “And I drew it. I can bring the picture to dinner if you want to see it.”

  “Yes, bring your picture,” said Mother, “but don’t show it at dinner. We’re taking our meal early so that Irena may perform afterwards. You can show us your bird then.” Mother frowned. “Do you have anything to exhibit, Adelina? Do you still persist with your poetry? You’ve not shared any with us for some time.”

  “You kept telling me to write more about God,” Adelina said, “and I can’t do it. I can’t write unless I believe in what I’m writing—” Her innards turned to ice, while Mother’s expression remained still. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded. I do believe in God, but I don’t believe in my ability to express divine subject matter. I feel it’s outside my comprehension.”

  Mother visibly relaxed. “Yes, it is difficult. Nonetheless, if you persist, you will not only write better verse but also become closer to Him.” She took a gingerbread biscuit, but before it reached her lips, she hesitated. “If you truly prefer a life of reading and contemplation, and if you so dislike the idea of being courted, you could always become a woman of God.”

  “Join a convent?”

  “Yes. Your father would be disappointed, but perhaps it might be the best fit for you.”

  Adelina’s fingers tightened around her teacup. “I don’t know, Mother. It’s hard to imagine myself as a nun.”

  “Yes, it does rather tax the imagination. Nonetheless, it is always an option for you if the demands of this temporal life become too burdensome.” A rare softness stole into Mother’s voice. “You are not entirely without an escape, Adelina, if that is what you crave.”

  Adelina stared into her tea. If there was a proper response, she couldn’t think of it.

  “Well, dinner shall commence shortly. An early meal to prepare the way for an evening of entertainment.” Mother blotted her lips with a napkin. “I look forward to Irena’s singing. She has a sweet voice, our eldest. And, of course, I greatly anticipate seeing your bird, Felise.”

  Felise folded her arms. “It’s a large black raven.”

  “Yes, quite.” Mother rose, wincing as her legs straightened, and placed her teacup on the tray. “I will retire for a moment. Will one of you be so kind as to fetch me before dinner begins?”

  Felise raised her hand. “I’ll do it. I also want to hear Adelina read a poem tonight. Please bring one, Ada. You have such a lovely way of reading.”

  Adelina smiled at her witless, infuriating yet somehow beloved sister. “We’ll see.”

  She waited for Mother to leave, waved farewell to Felise and returned to the lobby. The sun had already evaporated into sunset, and a crimson glow flooded the halls.

  Adelina ascended the stairs and entered the bedroom she shared with Irena. The sun burned behind the great tree outside her window, tracing each leaf with a radiant, feathered outline. She sighed a breath that seemed somehow not her own. She’d never look at a tree again without thinking of Silvana.

  Adelina’s desk was in the corner of the room, opposite the bed. Adelina removed the tiny package from her sleeve, opened it onto the desk’s cluttered surface and set the rings side by side. The waning sunlight burnished their silver edges.

  Was it too soon for such a bold gift? Adelina bit her lip. No—Silvana had already offered her cup, as forward a courtship gesture as there was. There was no need for timidity. Adelina had to court Silvana with passion and daring. It was exactly what such an exciting lover demanded, not delicate, prudish wooing but an audacious, searing romance.

  Adelina unfurled a length of writing paper and took up her quill pen. If she were to truly captivate this experienced older woman, she would have to conduct a courtship so reckless that future poets would blush to describe it.

  The pen scratched acoss the paper. For Adelina’s entire life, she had carried in her a defiant energy, one always frustrated by the conditions of her existence. Now that vitality had found its purpose. By the coming of the next full moon, Silvana would be hers.

  Chapter Ten

  The seating arrangements of the night before had been repeated, though the guests had changed—and not, in Silvana’s estimation, to any improvement. The leering Orfeo had rejoined the table, but Marconus and Matheus were absent. Instead, a small, twitchy man had been invited. He sat gnawing on a bone and staring intensely at the flower arrangement in the table’s center.

  Delfina waved her fork in Silvana’s direction, her manners abandoned. “But you must agree that, physically, men and women are suited to different roles in life.”

  “Must I?” Silvana sliced the pale fish on her plate. “Be more precise.”

  Irena giggled as Delfina straightened in her chair, her every inch radiating indignation. Adelina too was watching, her food almost untouched.

  “How precise need I be?” said Delfina. “Women can bear children. Men cannot. That is the fundamental division between them.”

  “Not all women can bear children. Some are barren. Others dare not, for reasons of sickness or frailty.”

  “Is that your excuse?” Delfina plunged a knife into her fish. “Or is your reason for childlessness one fed upon a fertile soil of depravity?”

  Adelina laughed, and a smile crept without permission to Silvana’s lips. Now that the mood had been established, Delfina proved an entertaining sparring partner, so long as her exaggerated talk wasn’t taken too seriously.

  “Let’s not talk about my fertile soil at the dinner table,” said Silvana, and Adelina laughed again. “My point is that our so-called natural roles aren’t even reliable within nature. Besides, none of this explains why a woman might be forbidden from participating in governance, owning her own business, or, as in some parts of this region, even being refused the chance to learn her letters.”

  “Keeping a woman illiterate is of course a grave sin.” Delfina took a dainty bite of her fish. “But you must admit that motherhood is a life-occupying profession.”

  “And you must admit some women are suited to other vocations. Why would Adelina not be capable of, let’s say, having a stall at the market? She can count money. She can read. She has a quick wit. What precludes her from a mercantile existence?”

  “The law of God.” Delfina glowered. As pious as the old woman might be, she was surely smart enough to realize that falling back on divine vacuities was a sign of surrender. “She is capable of bearing children, a divine blessing, and so she ought not to waste the opportunity.”

  “If she were barren, would you let her become a merchant?”

  “If she were my son, I would let her become a merchant.”

  The men roared in merriment, amused at some crude joke of their own, and the little daughter—Felise, wasn’t it?—pulled a face. “Mother, may I have a sip of wine?”

  “Just a sip, child, and from your sister’s goblet, not mine.”

  Irena put her goblet in front of Felise, who lifted the cup to her face and poured most of it down her chin. Irena snatched the goblet away and wiped Felise’s face with a napkin. “Lise, you absolute creature! It’s all over your dress!”

  “Irena,” said Delfina, “take her away and get her into a new dress. We can’t have her at our evening’s entertainment stained with wine.” She sighed at Irena and Felise as they left the room, Felise insisting all the while that an angel had bumped her. “That child is a hive of mendacity.”

  “Now I see where Ada gets her colorful turn of phrase,” said Silvana.

  The middle daughter herself watched serenely, her hands folded in her lap and her mouth set in the barest suggestion of a smile. Her hair was pinned into a high bun, and the sight of he
r slender neck and bare shoulders set Silvana’s stomach tingling. She was a beauty, but not the kind adored by poets, who preferred their women to be elfin, languid and pure of thought, nor the kind preferred by men, who seemed mostly drawn toward meekness and docility. No, with the resolve in her startling blue eyes and the passion that turned her lips, Adelina had been fashioned to enrapture strong-minded women.

  “What I do not understand,” said Delfina, and with reluctance, Silvana returned her attention to the other side of the table. “What I do not comprehend is why you can’t at least admit that if every woman behaved as you do, the world would collapse.”

  “How do we know the world isn’t already collapsing? Such a thing would happen with imperceptible slowness. In the middle of winter, one finds it difficult to believe the snow around them is melting—but come spring, and it seems that it ought to have been obvious all along.”

  “But that’s absurd. The world is presently in divine order.”

  “Look over there.” Silvana gestured to the far end of the table, where the men sat in huddled conference, goblets of wine clashing above their heads. Sebastian said something inaudible, and Orfeo laughed with such gusto that he spilled his drink on his head, which set the twitching stranger into a convulsion of amusement. Rafael, the poor thing, couldn’t even manage to feign a smile.

  “What am I meant to be looking at?”

  “Men. The present custodians of the divine order. A sotted, unseemly bunch, aren’t they? How would your household run if Master Sebastian didn’t let you have a say?”

  Delfina’s fork scratched against her plate. “Poorly, I expect.”

  “Could you stop Master Sebastian if he insisted that he ought to have full power over your affairs? That your role were to be reduced to nothing, the way many other wives are forced to live?”

  “No.” Delfina narrowed her eyes. “He is no fool and recognizes my depth of education, and so he allows me to help oversee the household finances. But naturally, if he decided that it ought to be otherwise, I would have no power to refuse him.”

  “Indeed. You have no legal protection, because men have perverted the divine order to exclude you. This is a war, Delfina. On the one side are women and the few good men that aspire to treat us as equals—men such as my brother, flawed though he can be. On the other side is every man that believes women are beneath him. Why do you think this table is so divided? It marks the separation between two opposing forces.”

  “A war, you say. And how exactly is this war fought? With sharp words over dinner?”

  “I carry a sword, Mistress Delfina, as well as my tongue. If they are to put one line upon my gravestone, it shall be this: no man ever ruled me.”

  The door opened, and Irena entered with Felise in hand. “It’s already late evening,” said Irena as she dragged Felise back to her place. “Mother, we should start the performance if I’m to play all my songs.”

  “Yes. Very well.” Delfina fixed Silvana with an even stare. “We will continue this discussion tomorrow at dinner.” She rose and clapped her hands once, briskly. “We are retiring now for entertainment, Sebastian. Will you and your friends join us?”

  “I drew a large black raven,” said Felise loudly, and Delfina clipped her ear.

  Sebastian chuckled and brushed the food from his beard. “Could I ever miss the opportunity to see my talented daughters? My friends, let’s leave the remnants of this meal and retire to the parlor.”

  “Adelina, Irena, come help me arrange the room.” Delfina glared at Felise. “And you come too, child, so as not to get yourself dirty again. Mistress Silvana, if you and your brother would care to wait here…”

  “Yes, we’ll wait,” said Silvana. The sisters and their mother filed from the room, Felise pausing to grab an olive on the way, and the men, excepting Rafael, followed. Adelina shyly looked back at Silvana as she exited. There was no mistaking the intention in those crystal-blue eyes.

  Left alone, the siblings studied one another. Seeing Rafael’s harried expression, Silvana felt a twinge of mercy. “I’m sorry for my intemperate words earlier, Rafael.”

  “Intemperate is one way to put it.” Rafael gave a weak laugh as Silvana shifted to sit beside him. “Careful. You’re on the masculine side of the table now.”

  “I’ll take a bath afterwards, and perhaps burn my clothes.”

  “I just can’t understand…” Rafael stared into his palms, as if searching for something written in the lines there. “You’ve had so many lovers, Silvie. Why is this one so different that you’ll risk so much?”

  “I wish I could express it to you.”

  “Can’t you at least try?”

  “My past love has always been furtive and fleeting. You may accept me and my passions, but most of this world refuses to, and even women who let me into their arms would balk at letting me into their homes. And so I have loved behind closed doors. I meet women in passing, know them for a single night, and often they refuse to give their true names…”

  “Many men would envy that kind of existence.”

  “But I’m no man!” Silvana slammed her fist to the table, and the cutlery bounced. “Lust is not enough, don’t you understand? Last night, I offered my wine to Ada, and she shared it. I only meant it as a bawdy jest, one I’ve performed countless times before. Every time previous, the woman has understood my message—I want to have carnal knowledge of you. But Adelina, Goddess help us both, understood it the way only an unashamed innocent would—that I intended to court her, just as you’re courting her sister. Such sentiment was written in her eyes that I shivered to read it. And that same night she wrote me a love poem…”

  Silvana’s vision blurred, and she brushed the tears from her eyes. “Damn it. You see? This is what she has done to me.”

  “But Silvie.” Rafael played with the handle of a spoon as he spoke. “It’s impossible. You can’t ever…I mean, you know I love you as you are, that I won’t question your tastes, the way in which you’ve been constituted to love, but you can’t…you can’t be with her, not that way. Her parents…I mean, can you imagine it?”

  “I know this all perfectly well. Yet she hopes to convince me that it can happen—that she can take me from what I know to be true, to that for which I can only dream. And I long to see how she will attempt to woo me, because it excites me in ways I’ve never known. Don’t stand between us. I beg you.”

  “Think of Irena. She’s already infatuated with me. If you get us kicked out of here, she’ll be heartbroken, and on top of that, Adelina will be disgraced. Not to mention we’ll miss our chance for the dowry.”

  “Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t win Irena’s hand. We’ve lied to them, and if her father finds out…”

  Rafael groaned. “Yes, yes. It’s a web already, and you’ve gone and tangled it further. We came here purely to obtain money by marriage. Now the elder daughter loves me, the middle daughter loves you, the father, who certainly has criminal connections, is suspicious of us, the mother watches our every move over the table…and we’re playing with more lives than our own. You may well destroy Ada if you let this continue.”

  “Perhaps.” Silvana bit on her thumbnail. “Perhaps you’re right, and we ought to simply flee while we can.” Her throat tightened. “But I would never be the same afterwards, Rafael. Something vital would have left my world.”

  Rafael turned the spoon, letting the light ripple over its bowl. “All I know is that you have to stop this courtship with her. You have to.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Rafael tossed the spoon to the table. “Then our adventures may come to an unpleasant end.”

  Light footsteps scampered in the distance, and Felise popped through the doorway. “It’s ready!” She clasped her hands. “I’ve drawn a picture, so you’d better come.”

  Silvana and Rafael followed the capering Felise through the halls and into the drawing room. The harpsichord had been uncovered and the chairs turned to face it. Irena sat
poised behind the instrument, Adelina lolled in an armchair, Sebastian sat on a divan beside Delfina, and Orfeo and the twitching man watched from the room’s corners, boredom already evident on their faces.

  Silvana and Rafael crossed the carpeted floor and settled onto either side of a faded velvet couch. Felise curled herself at Adelina’s feet. Delfina frowned at her youngest daughter, but said nothing.

  Irena smiled at Rafael, and a now-familiar pink glow spread across her cheeks. “This piece is called Evening’s Bloom. I hope you all enjoy it.” Her fingers stepped across the keys while a solemn tune rose from the instrument. She played well, as far as Silvana was any judge—her hands moved without hesitation, and her fingertips descended with elegant precision.

  A sad melody trembled in the air, and Irena began to sing.

  “Come with me, oh quickly come,

  To see the setting sun,

  Come with me, oh quickly come,

  As daylight is undone.

  Hold me close, oh hold me still,

  And see the evening bloom,

  Kiss me close, oh kiss me true,

  Before the coming moon…”

  Rafael stirred from his apathetic slouch and leaned forward, his head in his hands. Silvana stared at him. Yes, the girl sang sweetly, but surely not so sweetly as to enchant a man as disaffected from romance as her brother.

  Irena continued in her performance, her music sometimes lively and sometimes somber, her voice unfailingly clear and beautiful. It seemed as if in song she discovered a depth of character that she lacked in speech, and though her words were borrowed and her notes rehearsed, she infused both with a sincerity beyond question. At the end of the performance, the room applauded, and Rafael clapped with such vigor that Silvana worried he might injure himself. Irena looked at him and blushed.

  “That was a good performance,” said Delfina. “Felise, your drawing now, please.”

  Irena withdrew to a cushioned stool and nodded at Felise, who bounded to the front of the room and held a piece of paper before her. “Look, I drew it.” The image was recognizably that of a bird, its feathers detailed with care and attention. Felise had even attempted to add a branch beneath its feet with limited success.