A winter breeze whipped through the market, and Rinalto watched Viviana hand her little dog to her maid so she could put on her gloves. They were a striking red that matched the print of her cape.
How he would love to paint her.
“Ah, I see.” Hayl nodded, understanding. He’d been trading in the peninsula for thirty years and had seen playing cards take root. Noble families had begun commissioning famous artists to create their own decks, a sign of prestige. The cards were crafted with the finest parchment or wood and usually painted with gold.
Over the years Hayl had looked for interesting and unusual cards to bring to Italy and sell for a high price. On his last trip, he traveled as far as the Zagros Mountains, where he found an old trader looking to sell his wares. He ended up buying an unusual deck from the old man, unlike any he had seen before.
“Why are there only twenty-two?” Hayl had asked.
“These are very special,” the old man said, “from the time of the pharaohs. They’ve been in my family for many generations.”
Hayl doubted it, knowing firsthand that traders made up all kinds of stories to sell their goods. Yellow tin and fake gems were often passed off as gold and precious jewels in the markets. He was certain he could make up an even better story and sell the cards to a wealthy nobleman in Milan for a pretty florin.
Hayl didn’t know what made him to do it. Perhaps it was the longing on Rinalto’s face as he watched Viviana, a girl as lovely as his Kalinka long ago. Maybe it was the look in Rinalto’s eyes that said he didn’t believe he would ever obtain his dreams. Or maybe it was because Kalinka’s memory still had yet to fade. Whatever the reason, Hayl pulled out the special deck of cards.
“Perhaps you can gain attention with these,” he said and handed them to Rinalto.
Rinalto took the cards and looked at each one closely. “Magnificent. The paintings…” His finger traced one design. “What kind of game do you play with these?” he wondered, studying the unusual pictures.
“Any game.” Hayl shrugged. “They’re cards.”
Rinalto went to hand them back. “I could never afford them, but thank you.” They were painted with the purest gold, and the parchment was of a quality he had never seen.
“Consider them a gift,” Hayl said. “For bringing me back my necklace.” He folded Rinalto’s hands around the cards. “I too was young and in love once.”
Rinalto looked down, unable to believe his good fortune. The nobility sought only the best artists to paint unusual decks for their salons, with each patron trying to outdo the other. With these cards his circumstances could change.
“Hayl, how can I ever thank you?” Rinalto laughed, feeling more hopeful than he had in years.
Viviana glanced over from across the market upon hearing the confident ring of his laughter. She met Rinalto’s eyes and gave him a shy smile before turning away to continue shopping.
Hayl winked at him. “Win her heart. That will be thanks enough.”
***
For two months Rinalto painted an entirely new deck of cards. He used all of his savings to pay for the endeavor. Working in secrecy, he moved his table into his bedroom, away from the studio he shared with a group of other miniaturists. He even turned down a small commission to paint a client’s newborn child. A sense of urgency filled him and he made the cards quickly. For he knew exactly whom he would present them to.
He studied Hayl’s enigmatic cards for days to figure out how to paint the images. Never had he seen such designs. Their symbology felt magical, and he sensed that, all together, the symbols told a story.
He decided to adapt the figures to a more Milanese sensibility by adding beautiful crosses, chalices, cherubs, and angels to the cards, hoping the embellishments would please the church. ForThe Loverscard, he gave the woman a gown that resembled Viviana’s red-and-gold cape, but with red sleeves instead of gloves; he even grew so bold as to paint a little white dog at her feet. If Viviana ever saw these cards, she would realize he had painted her.
With painstaking precision, he created a new twenty-two-card set using gold leaf and silver foil. Then he painted a matching Mamluk deck of fifty-two cards, the most popular cards in Milan, and combined both decks into one. The Mamluk deck had four kings, each holding a different sign—coin, baton, cup, and sword. The kings were each accompanied by two viceroys and four sets of ten pip cards.
Rinalto made one other alteration for his new deck. He created four queens to pair with each of the kings, which had never been done before. It was a bold idea because he was planning to deliver this deck to the duke of Milan’s mistress as a gift.
Duke Filippo Maria Visconti was the foremost card collector in Milan and also the wealthiest man in Italy. Only the Medicis in Florence rivaled him. Giving the cards to the duke’s mistress at the ball, a ball being held in her honor, was the only way Rinalto could think to gain his notice without requesting an official audience. Rinalto could never give the duke the cards directly; to do so would be overstepping his place. But if the duke’s mistress showed him the cards in front of the crowd, it might win Rinalto his attention.
When he was finished, the seventy-eight cards glittered on his worktable like his own firestone necklace.
The time had come to unveil his masterpiece. The duke of Milan was holding a ball to honor his mistress and the birth of their new daughter the next week. It would be the perfect event.
He used his last coins to buy presentable clothes. The market seller assured him the outfit was the height of Florentine fashion. The voluminous cape had thick pleats made of ornate brocade, fully lined. He paired it with blue hose, parti-colored boots, and a matching hat. They were among the finest clothes he’d ever owned.
He managed to secure an invitation to the ball from one of his studio mates. By now they had all seen Rinalto’s finished work, and rumors were spreading throughout Milan that a special deck of cards would be presented to the duke’s mistress. Rinalto was taking his first step into high society and had little time to prepare. In Milan, every mannerism was an art. He practiced throwing back the sleeve of his cape all week.
***
The city was ready for a celebration. The duke had recently beheaded his latest wife, and the people hoped the birth of his mistress’s child would improve his mood. Most of the attendees had never seen the tyrant. He was a suspicious and paranoid man who distrusted people so much that he changed beds several times a night for safety. Rinalto was not the only one curious to see the duke in person.
