Free Sleeping Embers of an Ordinary Mind by Anne Charnock Page A

tail. These were but a beginning, and though many were sketched by his assistants, it was his own skill, guided by God’s hand, that brought all these elements together in a composition that froze time at the moment of greatest drama. And all the while, as he journeyed from initial idea to final composition, he deftly balanced his expansive self-confidence with essential, flattening self-criticism.
    He turns to the pile of sketches for The Battle of San Romano triptych and sighs heavily. Several of the sketches were useful for all three paintings, so which painting should he assign them to? He’s now of a mind to archive all the drawings together, unsorted. What does it matter? They’re of no interest to anyone other than himself. He pulls out a drawing that’s larger than the others in the pile—it’s the final drawing for what he regards as the best work in the triptych.
    He smiles, pleased with himself. This will be Antonia’s lesson today.

    When Paolo enters the sala, he finds his wife cutting up some old, fine-quality curtains on the dining table. He’s proud of his wife’s care of the household, her diligence in making savings. She’s cutting away the worn areas of cloth, and no doubt she’ll find some new use for the salvaged material. Seeing her husband, Tomasa is quick to set aside her work. She takes a seat.
    “Don’t tire yourself,” says Paolo.
    “I’m tired already. I didn’t sleep last night, Paolo.” She shakes her head. “I believe I’ll meet my Maker sooner than he himself intends if you don’t start negotiations over Antonia. I can’t get this worry out of my head for two moments combined. This year, it must be decided. Her childhood has passed—”
    “You shouldn’t worry.”
    She leans towards him and whispers, “What will you say if you receive a proposal in the coming weeks?”
    “I’ll say, ‘Come back in twelve months.’ They’ll wait if they’re serious.”
    They fall silent. He understands her impatience, but she should trust him.
    She says, “I’m visiting the convent next week for the Feast of Saint Martha to see my aunt. I’d like to take Antonia. My aunt misses her—she was so happy when Antonia boarded there for her schooling. And Antonia hasn’t been back to the convent since you took over her studies.”
    “Yes, take Antonia with you. Take some extra treats for their celebrations.”
    “Thank you, Paolo. I—”
    “Make sure to tell your aunt that Antonia must visit the convent’s scriptorium. Tell her I want Antonia to see their current commissions—prayer books, tapestry designs. I want your aunt to be under no illusion. I’d pay a good dowry to the convent if Antonia were to take vows, but only if they offer more than a life of cold stone and early-morning prayer.”
    Tomasa takes his hand and speaks slowly. “What about Piero di Cosimo’s cousin? Don’t forget, he’s the eldest son.”
    “He’s the cousin of a painter, but that doesn’t mean he’d be sympathetic to Antonia’s talents. Once she’s inside her husband’s household, I’d have no say in the matter. Tomasa, listen to me. It would be far better, if she were to marry, for her to have a rich husband who would pay for an army of servants. With a rich husband, I could insist during negotiations that Antonia would always have her own private study, or at least a bedchamber that’s large enough for her painting studies.”
    “So do you want her to marry, Paolo?”
    He walks over to the window and gazes down into the street. He can choose whether or not to answer his wife’s question. “I’ve ordered a wooden chest from the cabinet-maker who supplied the workshop. I’ve specified the best quality. It will be Antonia’s dowry chest, and I’ll decorate the panels myself.”
    “At last.” She tips back her head and sighs heavily. “I have the linens for her wedding trousseau. I can half-fill the chest already. But you haven’t decorated any furniture in years. That’s work