Page 39 of The Stone Witch of Florence

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIS JEWEL IS MAGIC

July 11th of 1348, City of Florence

L ucia sat alone in her dim palace, wondering if this was what the rest of her life would be like. Her hangover had faded to a dull nausea where both eating and not-eating seemed equally bad. Her spirits lifted at a knock upon her door. Finally! Ginevra had returned. But when she opened the door, there was only a young boy wearing the uniform of the bishop’s page.

“Excuse me, Lady, are you a ghost?”

“What? No. I’m not dead! I am alive and this is my house. Why does everyone think I should be dead?”

“Oh...well, then, are you a friend of Ginevra di Genoa, who walks through pestilence but will never be ill?”

“Who has said this of me?”

The boy smiled. “I’m Piero di Piero. I’m her friend, too. But my master, the bishop, he is not—I must speak to her before she leaves for San Romolo.”

“San Romolo?” said Lucia. “Where they make the chicken plates?”

Piero shrugged.

“Come in and tell me everything.”

They went into the garden, where it was coolest, and Piero explained it was he that fetched Ginevra all the way from Genoa. The bishop was impressed that he managed to bring her back all by himself without dying, and immediately hired him as a servant. Piero had meant to find Ginevra and tell her, but he hadn’t known where she was staying until that very afternoon.

A nun came to the bishop’s palazzo, and she complained that Ginevra used magic to try to heal another older nun. But the magic didn’t work, and the older nun died and now their holy bread relic was missing. The bishop told the complaining nun that Ginevra had run off to San Romolo, but not to worry, he already knew she was stealing relics and had a plan to arrest her when she came back. He said his guards were stationed at the Porta San Niccolo to get her. Piero knew it could not be true, that Ginevra would not hurt a nun or take their bread, and the complaining nun had mentioned that Ginevra had taken over the house of the Tornaparte, where everyone was dead, which is why Piero took Lucia for a ghost.

Lucia’s head reeled. “Why would she go to San Romolo? What else did you hear?”

“Nothing. I snuck out straightaway to warn Ginevra before she left.”

“She has not been here since this morning, Piero. I’m afraid she must have gone already.”

“But when she comes back, they will take her and put her in the stinche !”

“Oh, what do we do?? You must go back and find out more. Find out why the bishop believes that she stole the bread relic, when it was he who asked her to come and apprehend the thief.”

“He will never tell me; I only am his servant. I only learned of this by accident. What if you asked him? Your house looks important.”

“No. He mustn’t know I’m still alive. Or that anyone is trying to help Ginevra. Tell me, Piero, do you sleep in his chamber?”

“Of course,” said Piero proudly. “I have my very own truckle bed that rolls out.”

“And is he a sound sleeper?”

“No...he tosses and turns until it is very late and then sleeps for just an hour or two.”

“That will do.” Lucia unpinned a golden brooch from her shoulder and handed it to Piero.

“What is this? It looks very expensive. Is this a spell written on it?”

“Sort of—it says not my wife, but my life —Ginevra says this jewel is magic. I need you to take this, and stay awake all night on your truckle bed, and when the bishop sleeps, put this above his heart. Then you ask him to tell his secrets, and why he lies that Ginevra has stolen relics.”

Piero went back to his master’s home, but the bishop was not there. Nor were the mercenaries who usually hung about, tormenting him. He was too late. They already were camped together at the Porta San Niccolo, waiting with their pointy knives for Ginevra’s return.