A Fateful Friendship – An Assumptive Anthology

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Introduction

Hello!

This story is going to be a tad different from my other stories, mostly because it’s written in 500-year-old Italian.

Luckily this has already been translated by the institution which it comes from!

The story that is available in English is a lovely tale that I cannot wait to share with you all.

I’ve included the images of the Italian because I think old documents look cool. But the English text is located just below. It’s not separated out by page this time because it wasn’t in the source. Enjoy!

The Journal of Maribel

[id: above images contain old notebook pages. The text is written in Italian and tells the story which is translated into English below]

April 17th, 1529

I have timed the completion of my journal quite well in my own opinion. I was able to begin my new notebook just as Francesca and I moved to the town of Cavero. I shall start afresh in what I write and in where I live. Not everything shall change as we move our possessions. I will continue to be known here as Maribel instead of Markus, and Francesca, though she will ask to be called Franca here, will remain a woman as well. We are fortunate in that the village does not have a seamstress so they are quite excited as we move in. At least I believe they are excited. I have not yet spoken to any of them myself. I have only heard Franca’s reporting. I shall meet her there the day after tomorrow, as soon as Bianca’s husband can make the journey with me by cart. I must remember to pay him generously for his services. Without his cart, it would take weeks of walking to transport the pieces of our loom and the fabric which Franca keeps for her embroidery.

She says she wants to teach me more embroidery and maybe some of the rudimentary dressmaking skills she has been learning. I will do my best to be a good, if reluctant, student, but to put things simply I do not want to be a seamstress.

I wish there was a way for me to be a doctor in this town. I know they need one, yet I also know they will never hire someone with the name and demeanor of a woman even if I once trained under the best medical scholars in Genoa.

Markus has studied the humours and herbalism at the medical college in Genoa. But none of that can or will matter in Cavero because I will be Maribel, and who would believe a woman’s ability to cure any disease? I long so desperately to help my new community in the way I helped before I made this change.

I think if she saw this journal Franca would tell me I am helping the community by weaving cloth and sewing simple garments. She is right, of course. She has been a woman longer than I have and I would never dare say the work she’s done held no value. There is a difference between us though. We’ve both lost so much. It seems to me in her grief Franca makes things. She busies her hands and mind with the meditation of crafts and uses them to reach out and commune with others in pain so that she may lessen it. I think her endeavors benevolent. I have witnessed her kindness and the joy and peace it appears to bring to the bereaved people we meet. To dwell in this act of grief does not do me well. I think it must do well for Franca, for she continues to repeat these actions and does not seem to wish for a different occupation.

I am not like Franca – not about this. In my grief, I turned to medicine. It is not perfect and I cannot save everybody, but there are some who I believe are alive today because of my hand and my training. I do not know myself as well when I am not serving a town as its physician.

Well, I suppose this is only true in some ways. I know Maribel the seamstress in all the ways I could not know Markus the physician. I may not be a physician, but I am a woman. I recognize myself in my clothing now, and when people talk of me I feel it is truly me they speak of. Yet I am stopped from fulfilling this other want of mine – to use the knowledge I have gained.

Perhaps I shall talk to Franca about this. She has changed her name, though she did not need to change her profession. Perhaps she still will understand my struggles. More than this, I hope she hears me and knows me. I could be lost to all the world, but if Franca knows me, I may be content.

April 28th, 1529

I do not think beginning in a new town can ever be an easy task, yet things are not as difficult this time as they were last time. One thing which seems to help is the demand of this community for our products. Last time it took us about four months to gain steady business. There was no waiting period here. We have been weaving, sewing, and embroidering the entire day to keep up with the needs of the town.

Another thing that has made this transition smooth is our neighbor. Her name is Diana, and she spends much of her day near us. Like Franca, her father’s skin is dark brown and her mother’s is white. Her skin is a darker and warmer shade than Franca’s, but from what I have overheard, Diana’s grandparents are from Ifriqiya, like Franca’s father.

Diana’s husband raises pigs for the local lord, so she is fortunate enough not to need to work. Once she has a family of her own, she will remain occupied during the day; however, she is not yet expecting. I cannot tell whether the lack of children or pregnancy bothers her. Some days she seems nearly wistful; others it’s as though she fears the loss of her independence. I suppose she could feel both. It is not as though my expectations for my future are ever as simple as single words.

The only member of our new community who I have met whom I do not foresee getting along with is Nicollo. He works with the masons, and his clothing is simple yet well kept, so he does not visit us for his own garments, nor for his wife, for he lives with another bachelor who I’ve yet to meet. Despite this, he spends nearly twenty minutes each day around our stall looking at our fabrics. I am becoming convinced he merely watches us work. It is off putting, and he makes me quite nervous. Franca told me not to worry, so I shall not list my fears here, but there are many reasons a woman such as myself should be wary of a man who pays her too much attention. I hope Franca knows I would not want to date this man. Surely she knows me better than that.

Ah. She is home, so I shall go ask her now. Hopefully, her reassurances will do something to quell my discomfort.

May 10th, 1529

There is no word for the series of events that transpired today other than ‘strange’. Each moment individually may have occurred on a normal day, yet when put in sequence, I struggled to keep pace with the events of life. I shall recount them now in part to better understand their nature, but also to remind myself later of where this new path in my life began.

The first several hours of our day were unextraordinary. Franca was mending the shorts of a local boy while I sat behind the loom, weaving fabric from the colors she had set out for me that morning. There was no one else in the store, so I began complaining about my boredom to Franca. She tried to be patient, telling me I could learn more patterns and sew clothes rather than weaving simple fabrics. This was not the solution to my boredom, and Franca knew this. I told her I wish to return to being a doctor.

I believe I was too loud in this declaration, for at the moment I concluded, Nicollo walked into the area. I grew quiet as he eyed me up and down. At the time, I knew not what he was looking for nor what he thought he found. I have suspicions now.

After browsing our wares for some time, he paused near me. He ran his fingers over the orange and green fabrics at my side and kept opening his mouth as though to speak. He would glance my way, see me watching curiously, and then turn back to the fabric.

It was Franca who broke this uncomfortable pattern. She asked if she could help with anything. Nicollo stared at her mouth slightly open. He considered responding her way before turning to me again.

“You were a doctor?” He asked me.

I do not know precisely how I responded because, in my shock, I stammered. I must have nodded or agreed somehow, for he smiled and continued on.

“They will not train women,” He said. It was not a question but a fact. He was not rude in his words, and oddly there seemed to be a joy or excitement in his eye.

I did not know how to respond to this accusation which did not feel like an accusation, so I stared at him for a moment, then turned back to my loom.

He spoke again, saying, “They will not train a woman, yet they trained you,” he put his hand on my loom, I suspect, to draw my attention. It worked. I met his eyes and saw hope. I could not comprehend this. In my confusion, I grew frustrated. I told him to let go of my loom. He did. He turned to Franca, looked her up and down for a moment, then turned back to me.

He lowered his voice significantly and said, “My friend’s name was not always Leonardo. Before we came to this town, it was Lavinia.”

He paused for a moment while he let this sink into the room. I met Franca’s wide eyes across the room. I had little time to form an opinion, an emotion, or a response before Nicollo continued.

“I loved him then, and I did not stop loving him when he insisted those changes were necessary for his happiness,” He told us. I think he feared we would react poorly, for he continued on for several more moments. I do not remember his words, but I remember the feelings they conveyed. I could not help but meet Franca’s eyes again, for it is the feeling I felt when she first confided her own discomfort in me. An endearment that pulled me toward her with such strength that I would climb mountains to bring her more joy in her life. To change a name and see her as a woman mattered to me only because everything about her mattered to me.

“I understand,” I told Nicollo.

He stopped his fretting and met my eyes with his own, which were wide with hope.

“He needs a doctor’s help,” Nicollo said, “But the only doctor is from the town north of us, and he cannot know.”

I nodded and caught Franca’s eyes. Something like an agreement passed between us as I said, “I will help.” A smile grew from the fear and confusion on her face. We briefly spoke about where Leonardo was and what his struggles were, but it became clear Nicollo would not tell me much until I saw him for myself. I suspect he did not want me to diagnose him without visiting.

I made the walk with Nicollo to their home. We did not speak as we walked. All we knew of each other were things we could not speak of in public. I entered their home and saw Leonardo curled around himself on their bed mat. His auburn hair was stuck by sweat to his tan forehead, and his breathing was labored.

He called out softly to Nicollo, who quickly moved to sit beside his beloved. I was unsure of what to do with myself, so I stood in the doorway as an observer while they rearranged themselves, so Nicollo held Leonardo’s head in his lap. For a brief moment, I let my eyes wander to his pained body. I imagined the parts I knew were beneath the surface. How they fit together, and what could be going wrong.

Nicollo spoke my name, Maribel, and snapped me from unhelpful thoughts. I moved towards the bed and knelt before Leonardo. I introduced myself and said I was a doctor.

There was confusion amidst the pain, and Nicollo brushed his fingers through Leonard’s hair. “She’s a doctor?” His strained voice asked.

I took a deep breath and told him, “I was Markus when I was taught and trained. I am Maribel now.”

I do not know for certain whether Leonardo understood. There was silence in the room for a moment as he struggled with connecting the dots, which brought me to his bedside. His thoughts were interrupted by his own pained groan. I knelt beside him and began to examine what was wrong.

After much discussion and some gentle prodding, I could make a diagnosis. I have placed the medical information and treatment plan in the medical journal I kept while in school.

I did not intrude in their home much longer than this. I instructed Nicollo to keep Leonardo hydrated and not allow him to get warm tonight. He must grow colder and wetter if we are to rebalance his humours and make him well again. I hope his fever does not remain, for that may indicate an imbalance of his blood humour as well, and I do not know where to find leeches, nor could I ask someone nearby, for I fear they would discover my purpose and perhaps our secrets.

Nicollo offered to walk me back to my home, but I could see he did not want to leave Leonardo. Nicollo’s presence offered much comfort to Leonardo, who looked no better than I’d found him and who would likely remain in pain for several days at least. It would feel cruel for me to steal either man from the other’s side.

I walked home alone and thought I would have much to tell Franca when I arrived. People were shopping and talking among the clothes when I arrived, and they remained for several hours more. I resumed my weaving on the loom while Franca sewed and sold cloth. When the sun set and we moved into the back room, I had her to myself, and despite my excitement earlier in the day, I could think of little to express with words.

I told her we were not alone. Her eyes sparkled at this.

She squeezed my hands and told me, “I was never alone, for I have you.”

She is right, of course, that we have each other. But there is a joy in hearing about the existence of another like us. It reduces in me the fear that we are alone in our ways. It makes me feel more certain that our choice of happiness did not show weakness or confusion but strength and resolve.

Franca went to walk about town this evening. I think she likes the cool night air. She claims she can hear the wind whistle through the mountains. She says the voices of men and women in their home is the melody on top of the harmonious sounds of nature. I attended one of her strolls and did not hear the song she hummed along to. Perhaps I was too distracted looking at my Franca to be able to see the world through her eyes.

She returns now, so I shall put down my notebook to fall asleep beside her as I thank the stars for the people I have met within the course of my life.

May 19th, 1529

My twice daily trips to see Leo in his home may be more than is needed for him medically, but it brings joy and companionship to both of us, and Franca does not complain of my absence. Leo’s pains are showing no improvement, so he cannot yet return to work. Once this pain passes, I suspect we will see each other with less frequency, so I am slightly ashamed to admit I am taking advantage of his position to impose on his kindness. This is not to say he does not seem to enjoy my company. Several times I have suggested I could visit with less frequency or for shorter durations, and I am asked to remain and return each time. I am grateful my presence does not bother him.

There is always much for us to talk about. In moments where the pain ebbs, Leo has told me the stories of the members of this community. I have learned much of the past romantic dalliances of the Lord who owns this land. These stories are a joy to bring home to sweet Franca. I try to bring her to Leo to hear them herself, but I have yet to convince her to leave her work. She is quite in demand here, and though I think she would enjoy it, I understand why she remains. Without her by my side, I feel slightly less whole, but Leo’s gentle friendship and attentive ear offer much comfort to me in this new town. I spin him yarns about my past, my studies, and my life and keep him up to date on the gossip floating amongst the town.

After we grew used to each other’s company, we began to talk about things beyond town gossip. Several of our meetings have been spent discussing how we changed and, more than that, how we didn’t. The feelings that led me to be a woman and the joy I feel now contrast with the great sadness lifted from Leo’s shoulders when Nicco’s love did not waver. There was confusion, as there tends to be, but once Nicco’s questions ended, his acceptance began. Nicco often returns to their home while I am there, and his face wrinkles with joy when his eyes first find Leo. Of course, this joy is often wiped out by worry and concern at the illness, but the instinct remains: Leo makes Nicco happy.

I thank the stars they’ve found and kept each other.

May 22nd, 1529

As is noted in my medical journal Leo’s pain released its grip on him overnight. I shall stop in to ensure he remains well today, but then I shall cease my daily trips. He will likely return to work tomorrow, and so shall I. I have let myself get so lost in the joy of being a doctor that I forgot I will not be working with any patients in this town beyond Leo.

I have no other thoughts to share. I thought I had more words to say on that matter. But it seems things are quite clear. I will cease treating Leo daily and return to weaving cloth.

May 25th, 1529

I shall sleep happily tonight. I thank the stars for my friends and for their company tonight. They have given me a path toward the future, which holds a joy I did not expect.

Leo and Nicco arrived at our shop just after their work shift. They’d stopped at their home on the way to freshen up and grab some food and arrived as the day ended with dinner for myself and Franca. We ate and talked and had a wonderful time.

Though I have not yet spoken to Franca, she left shortly after dinner for her evening walk, I believe she enjoyed herself. She smiled at Leo’s jokes and did a much better job catching him up on the gossip than I could hope to. She has a knack for small talk and gossip.

While she told Leo of the most recent affairs of Susanna’s brother’s wife, I spoke some to Nicco alone. I realized I hadn’t had time with just him since before I met Leo. Since then, I had spent a lot of time with his love and roommate, but I often left soon after he came back home from the day’s work. He is softer spoken than Leo and meets my eyes with an intense stare – though I quickly learned there is no malice in it. He is an avid listener. He asked after our shop, and as I answered, he held onto every word I spoke. When I finished, he thought for a moment before asking about our business in our last town. The conversation continued like this until its natural end.

He waited and listened to the gossiping of Leo and Franca for several minutes before turning to me and saying, “You are a good doctor. I am grateful I met you and trusted you.”

I admit I was a little taken aback by the bluntness, but I hope this was not obvious to him. I told him thank you, and he smiled back as he took a sip of his drink.

It wasn’t long before he met my eyes and spoke again. He told me, “You are a woman who has been trained as a doctor.”

Despite there being no obvious question, I could tell he waited for a response. I nodded. He nodded understandingly and said, “My sister is pregnant. Our town has no midwife.”

Once again, the question was implicit. I told him I knew little of the subject and that work is for women, and thus I was not taught it.

He stated, “You are a woman,” then, after a very brief pause, asked, “Could you learn?”

I hesitated. I know very little of the bodies which can carry a baby and have never witnessed the act of birth. I expressed this fear to Nicco, and he listened carefully. When I was done, he collected his thoughts and then said, “I trust your skill and knowledge of the human body. My sister will have no one if she does not have you.”

I do not know if it was the conviction with which he believed in me or how his eyes held mine with fear for his sister and hope for my answer, but I responded, “I will try.”

When the men had left, I had but a few moments before her walk to tell Franca of my promise to Nicco. It was her instant excitement that waved away the fog of fear to reveal joy underneath. I will still be able to be a doctor. Not as I was once, but in a new way, as a woman. I will learn what I can about childbirth, and I will bring healing and joy to the people in my community.

I suspect Franca will return soon, so I must wrap this up so we can discuss our news and hold each other in joy. I trust we shall lie close tonight, for Franca often yearns for touch when emotions run high.

Oh, what good fortune it is to share my life with someone such that her joy becomes mine and mine becomes hers. We have braved dark moments together, and there is no one I would rather be near me as we celebrate and step into this new light.