minutes, as you gather my supplies." Then, before Francesca could respond--and shocking myself--I pushed in the heavy carved door.
Tiberio followed with a surprised grin. "How do you like my house?" Pretending to be the host, he spread his arm toward the fresco over the main stairway. "Nothing proclaims 'Welcome' like a corpse."
I pursed my lips so as not to laugh at the fresco of a coffin with a leering skeleton rising from it. "Truly inviting, signore ," I said.
"The old man's humor. Typical. It is getting dark. Let me get some light."
Francesca placed herself between me and the stairs as he strode Up, two at a time. " Signorina , it no good for a maiden to be alone."
My light tone betrayed my happiness. "I am not alone. Maestro Michelangelo will be back soon, and I've got you, signore Tiberio, and who knows what other servants are around. Hello?" I called into the growing dimness. No one answered. "In any case, at my age I am hardly a dewy-eyed maiden."
"What I say about the dew eyes? I say it no good to be alone with a man."
Tiberio jogged back down the stairs with rolled-Up drawings tucked Under one arm. He held Up a smoking lamp. "Let there be light."
"Just like in the Maestro's scene of the creation of the sun and the stars in the chapel," I said.
He laughed. "Am I convincing in the role of God?"
"Oh, yes."
He bowed. " Grazie, signorina . But I do not believe you."
Francesca cleared her throat.
He glanced at her, then put the drawings on the table before Us, his expression growing serious. "I keep thinking about the Maestro's painting of the creation of Adam. How did he ever think to portray God bringing Adam to life through a touch of fingers? You can feel the very life force being passed from Creator to creation."
Something that had bothered me came back to mind. "It must be my failing and not the Maestro's, but I did not get that feeling in the scene of Eve's creation. It seems, almost, that the Maestro took little care in her depiction."
"Of course. That is by design. Eve is not as important as Adam."
I looked at him, wondering why this should be so.
"Trust me, the Maestro knows what he is about. That is why he is famous and we are not."
"At least not yet," I said.
His eyes warmed. "I like the way you think, Sofonisba Anguissola."
Francesca started coughing. When she did not stop, Tiberio pulled his smile from me. "Old woman, are you well?"
"Si, si." Francesca waved him off, still coughing.
"Francesca, are you choking?"
She shook her head, whipping her shoulders with her veil. Her coughs tightened into a breathless bark.
"Go to the piazza and get yourself a drink," Tiberio ordered. "The water in that fountain comes straight from the aqueduct--good mountain water. Signorina Sofonisba won't be alone," he added when she would not budge in spite of not being able to draw breath. "I'll watch over her."
"That," she squeaked, "what give me fear."
I frowned in apology as she bent into her coughing. I had heard Tiberio's people, the Calcagnis, were a rich and powerful Florentine family. Tiberio was the one in danger of being tainted, not I. The Anguissolas may have had riches once, but our branch has been withering for generations. Papa's title as count has little land and no power behind it.
"Signorina," choked Francesca, "go . . . with me."
I could stand her discomfort no longer. "Come!" I started for the door.
"You insult me, Francesca," Tiberio said quickly, "by not trusting me with your lady."
I stopped. Tiberio wished me to stay. Sweetest Holy Mary! But Francesca's cough would not stop. "For the love of God, Francesca, please! Go get yourself some water!"
Francesca, doubled over, threw me a last, desperate look, then fled.
Tiberio set the lamp on a table. "She should be fine," he said when he saw my worried expression. "The water is very soothing."
"She may need a dram of coltsfoot tea."
"You have a knowledge of herbs?"
A woman can know too much. I lowered my eyes. "Just a
Tiberio followed with a surprised grin. "How do you like my house?" Pretending to be the host, he spread his arm toward the fresco over the main stairway. "Nothing proclaims 'Welcome' like a corpse."
I pursed my lips so as not to laugh at the fresco of a coffin with a leering skeleton rising from it. "Truly inviting, signore ," I said.
"The old man's humor. Typical. It is getting dark. Let me get some light."
Francesca placed herself between me and the stairs as he strode Up, two at a time. " Signorina , it no good for a maiden to be alone."
My light tone betrayed my happiness. "I am not alone. Maestro Michelangelo will be back soon, and I've got you, signore Tiberio, and who knows what other servants are around. Hello?" I called into the growing dimness. No one answered. "In any case, at my age I am hardly a dewy-eyed maiden."
"What I say about the dew eyes? I say it no good to be alone with a man."
Tiberio jogged back down the stairs with rolled-Up drawings tucked Under one arm. He held Up a smoking lamp. "Let there be light."
"Just like in the Maestro's scene of the creation of the sun and the stars in the chapel," I said.
He laughed. "Am I convincing in the role of God?"
"Oh, yes."
He bowed. " Grazie, signorina . But I do not believe you."
Francesca cleared her throat.
He glanced at her, then put the drawings on the table before Us, his expression growing serious. "I keep thinking about the Maestro's painting of the creation of Adam. How did he ever think to portray God bringing Adam to life through a touch of fingers? You can feel the very life force being passed from Creator to creation."
Something that had bothered me came back to mind. "It must be my failing and not the Maestro's, but I did not get that feeling in the scene of Eve's creation. It seems, almost, that the Maestro took little care in her depiction."
"Of course. That is by design. Eve is not as important as Adam."
I looked at him, wondering why this should be so.
"Trust me, the Maestro knows what he is about. That is why he is famous and we are not."
"At least not yet," I said.
His eyes warmed. "I like the way you think, Sofonisba Anguissola."
Francesca started coughing. When she did not stop, Tiberio pulled his smile from me. "Old woman, are you well?"
"Si, si." Francesca waved him off, still coughing.
"Francesca, are you choking?"
She shook her head, whipping her shoulders with her veil. Her coughs tightened into a breathless bark.
"Go to the piazza and get yourself a drink," Tiberio ordered. "The water in that fountain comes straight from the aqueduct--good mountain water. Signorina Sofonisba won't be alone," he added when she would not budge in spite of not being able to draw breath. "I'll watch over her."
"That," she squeaked, "what give me fear."
I frowned in apology as she bent into her coughing. I had heard Tiberio's people, the Calcagnis, were a rich and powerful Florentine family. Tiberio was the one in danger of being tainted, not I. The Anguissolas may have had riches once, but our branch has been withering for generations. Papa's title as count has little land and no power behind it.
"Signorina," choked Francesca, "go . . . with me."
I could stand her discomfort no longer. "Come!" I started for the door.
"You insult me, Francesca," Tiberio said quickly, "by not trusting me with your lady."
I stopped. Tiberio wished me to stay. Sweetest Holy Mary! But Francesca's cough would not stop. "For the love of God, Francesca, please! Go get yourself some water!"
Francesca, doubled over, threw me a last, desperate look, then fled.
Tiberio set the lamp on a table. "She should be fine," he said when he saw my worried expression. "The water is very soothing."
"She may need a dram of coltsfoot tea."
"You have a knowledge of herbs?"
A woman can know too much. I lowered my eyes. "Just a
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