Florence 1415

CHAPTER 1

Florence, 1415

Elisabetta surveyed the courtyard garden gloomily, fingering absentmindely the rich cloth of her skirts. The prospect of another 6 hours with that stinking old man who was her tutor  was not something she relished. The July heat  was  somniferous and he often began to drool and his head bobbed up and down while she read the greek classics aloud. In fact she tried to modulate her voice to induce his sleep. That way at least she had some small enjoyment whilst suffering his company, and her maid, who acted as chaperone could put aside her needlework and share the gossip of the house in low tones until he woke with a start, and asked her some questions  in a blustering tone to which she replied with her head and eyes demurely held low while her maid hid her smiles behind an austere face.

'Elisabetta!' her maid's voice broke through her reverie 'it's time to go to your lessons mia cara.'

she swept her eyes over her charge's dress, brushing away some imaginary crumbs and smoothing her unruly dark tresses.

'Andiamo! Let's go!' And together they picked up their skirts and made their way towards the schoolroom.

Elisabetta's father was something of a revolutionary in that he wished his daughter to have the same education as his son. Her mother disagreed, arguing that her future husband would not thank him for filling the girl's head with politics, history and philosphy, better that she spent more time on her embroidery , which was abysmal according to her high standards. Now that Elisabetta was nearly thirteen, they were beginning to seriously consider prospective matches, and although Elisabetta understood she was to be married before long, the reality of it was still too much for her childish mind to dwell on.

As she entered the room, the air was already thick with the warm scent of Dottore Trovato's unwashed person and foetid breath. He was a drinker, evident from his bulbous red nose and thickened skin, and had recently begun to suffer from gout, which made him short tempered and irritable. Elisabetta took a deep final breath of fresh air and walked towards her chair, pausing only to bob a curtsey at Dr. Trovato.

'Buongiorno Dottore' she intoned, already feeling claustrophobic in the stifiling room.

'Buongiorno Elisabetta' he replied, 'Today we will continue with the thoughts of Marcus Aurelius'

She picked up the tiny book and moved her chair towards the half shuttered window so as to read better the tiny print. With heavy heart she began to read.

After about thirty minutes, she started to modulate her voice so that it became a soothing monotonous sound, and as she looked up whilst turninng over the page to see how far gone Trovato was, she became conscious of a fat fly buzzing against the thick panes, throwing itself desperately against them in a futile bid for freedom. She suddenly felt a kinship with the creature, she too wanted to throw open the window and fly out, escape from this dreary existence. She rose from her seat, and her maid looked over quizzically, ' c'e una mosca.' she indicated with her hand the hairy black body which was beating rythmically on the glass.

' Significa novità! It brings change!' her maid jumped up to help her open the heavy window.

'Ha!' Elisabetta laughed sarcastically ' nothing will ever change in this house, that I can promise you!'

'Don't be so sure miss.' her maid said confidentially, 'I've heard the master means to take on a new professor for you, to teach you the arts, this new movement they are calling the rinascimento, he says it's important for you to appreciate true culture and beauty. That's what they are saying miss' and she bobbed a curtsey.

Much though Elisabetta hungered for these tidbits, she was always irritated by the fact that the servants knew more than she did in her own house. It was ridiculous! Of course it would have been her father's man talking or her mother's maid.

What does my mother think?' she asked, testing the water, 'well miss,' Agata did say as the mistress wasn't too happy but seeing as it is culture it was better than mathematics and science which the master was also harping on about.

Elisabetta stifled a giggle, she did love her father, even though she was a little bit scared of him. He wanted her to develop 360 degrees he said. He had always been interested in what she was thinking, and tried to develop her skills of logic and discussion (her mother called her argumentative) but if it was true that old Doctor Trovato was going, well that was certainly cause for celebration!

At that moment the Doctor sighed, burped and woke up. Elisebetta returned to her reading, mouthing the words without concentrating, her mind spinning off into the distance.