Free The Miracles of Prato by Laurie Albanese Page A

work on the frescoes not quick enough, and of course his preparations for the Festival of the Holy Belt are more demanding than ever before.”
    â€œThe man is a genuine pox,” de’ Valenti exclaimed, and the men at the table laughed heartily.
    Sensing the mood was right, Fra Filippo seized this moment to bring his business to Ser Francesco. He spoke quickly of the altarpiece for King Alfonso, describing in detail his vision for the Madonna kneeling in the forest, and the face that would complete that vision.
    â€œYes.” Cantansanti nodded thoughtfully as the painter spoke. “Yes, this is what must be delivered to the King of Naples.”
    Emboldened, the monk described the face of a woman now living in the Convent Santa Margherita whose beauty surpassed even the finest paintings ever done.
    â€œSo there you have it, friends,” Fra Filippo said when he was finished. “A pure young woman cloistered in Santa Margherita. Is there anything more fitting for the representation of the Madonna? Only a few things stand between us and this glory for His Excellency, Cosimo de’ Medici, may the Lord Jesus Christ grant him strength and continued good health.”
    â€œThere are many things of value in the city of Prato,” Cantansanti said, raising his glass to Fra Filippo. “I’m certain we’ll convince the prioress to do what’s best for all.”
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    S ister Camilla, sipping a cup of thin broth after Nones two days later, was sure she’d misheard the prioress. It couldn’t be right. Perhaps the steam from the hot soup had garbled her words.
    â€œBeg pardon, Mother, but I didn’t hear you.”
    â€œI said,” Mother Bartolommea repeated. “The novitiate Lucrezia will sit for Fra Filippo’s altarpiece, an important work of great consequence which has been commissioned by the Medici. Under normal circumstances I would never allow it.” She leaned closer to Sister Camilla. “But since he’s a man of the Church, our very own chaplain, it’s not the compromise it might seem at first. After all, his workshop is nearly, by extension, a part of our convent.”
    As Sister Camilla stared silently, the prioress continued in a whisper.
    â€œFor our trouble and generosity we’ll have the Sacra Cintola here, at the convent, under my secret protection. Think of it!” she exclaimed. “With the Holy Belt in our possession, imagine what favors might be bestowed upon us from the Blessed Mother.”
    The prioress looked at Sister Camilla, waiting for her response. She leaned forward, and repeated herself.
    â€œI said, Sister Camilla, that we shall have the Holy Belt, sacred relic of the Virgin Mary, here in our convent. Of course, it will be solely in my possession and no one will know but the two of us.”
    Sister Camilla put down her cup and stared at the prioress. She assumed the good mother was making some kind of joke.
    â€œI’m only telling you in case something should happen,” the prioress said. “But with the belt here, what harm could possibly come to us?”
    Sister Camilla wasn’t sure how to respond. She was sought out for her quiet wisdom, and wasn’t one to make rash remarks.
    â€œThere’s more.” The prioress puffed out her chest. “I’ve also arranged for a beautiful new altarpiece to be commissioned for SantaMargherita. The painting will depict the Madonna at the moment when she passes the Sacra Cintola to Saint Thomas. I shall be included in this painting as a patron kneeling before the Holy Virgin.”
    The prioress let out her breath, her figure seeming to shrink as she exhaled.
    â€œI shouldn’t be so boastful,” she muttered, straightening her wimple. “It’s against our Rule.”
    Despite her disclaimer, the prioress was deeply flattered by the notion of appearing for all of eternity in one of Fra Filippo Lippi’s paintings. Like the