'You are wanted,' someone said. 'They are going to serve the second course.'
The second course consisted of fried veal sweetbreads with an eggplant sauce, cabbage soup, Federico's favorite sausages, and stuffed goose boiled Lombardy style — that is, covered with sliced almonds and served with cheese, sugar, and cinnamon. The goose liver was soaked in wine and sweetened with honey, and looked very appetizing.
'Hurry!' Federico groaned, handing me his trencher.
My hands were shaking. I tried some of the sweetbread and a little of the cabbage soup and the sausage. I felt no ill effects. The goose! It had to be the goose. Of course it was the goose! Federico loved goose, everyone knew that. I glanced again at Emilia and Pia. They used to be loud and raucous, but today they were silent. I thought — it is because they do not wish to attract attention to themselves!
The goose was placed in front of Federico. The hall was quiet except for the slurping of food and the rain beating against the window. Giovanni had hardly eaten anything. Thunder crashed over the hills. 'More wine,' Federico shouted. I was afraid if he asked me to taste anything else I would die of fright. I nibbled at the goose and kept a small bit under my tongue ready to spit it out if I felt the slightest sensation. I handed the platter back to Federico. He did not even look at me. Bianca gobbled her food down.
It occurred to me that if I died right now I would never see Miranda again. This so disturbed me that I interrupted Federico, saying, 'Honorable Duke—' and here I made a face that indicated I would piss on myself if I did not leave.
'No,' Federico said, belching loudly. 'Wait till after the dessert.' Cristoforo carried in the platter of cookies himself. And then I knew. It was the dessert. What better place to hide poison? Everyone knew Federico loved sugar ten times more than he loved goose, capons, or anything else. Each person was served several cookies shaped like beans and a skeleton made of almonds and sugar. 'Ah, ossi di morto,' Federico smiled.
He passed the platter to me. 'Quick,' he said, his big bruised lips salivating in anticipation. There was a flash of lightning. Thunder crashed again. Nero barked.
I picked up the skeleton. Oh, how clever of that little hunchback to use a skeleton. I thought — I will not bite the head because that was what Federico liked and anyone who had been in the palace for a while, as indeed Alessandro now had, would know that, and would therefore put the poison there. Instead, I raised the tiny feet to my mouth. Suddenly, I saw Tommaso looking at me from across the hall, his face a mask. I sniffed at the figure and could not part my lips.
'Come on!' Federico snapped.
'Your Excellency, I have reason to think Cristoforo—'
Federico looked at me with such anger I could not finish. 'Eat it!' he snarled.
Pia and Emilia were looking at their figures. Giovanni was pouring himself some wine.
'To Miranda,' I whispered and bit into the skeleton's feet.
I no longer have any memory of whether it was sugary or not. I swallowed. Lightning lit up the hall, illuminating the yellow teeth, the sharp little eyes and haughty noses. Thunder shook the foundations of the palace and now all the dogs started barking. I gulped. My throat! I grasped my throat! My hands trembled. My body shook and twisted. Something shot through my body. I raised my hand and pointed, 'Giovanni!' Cursing, I fell back, crashing into a servant and onto the ground, my legs curling into my stomach, my back arched in the air as the cat's had done. I gasped. My tongue begged for water! Oh, water! Water! I could not control my cursed legs! They jerked backward and forward. I screamed. Chairs were pushed aside. Tables upended. I heard Federico roar, 'Cristoforo!' I heard Emilia and Pia shouting above the thunder. Then came the clash of swords, and such bloodcurdling screams as I had never heard before.
Wind raced through the hall and mixed with the gurgles of the dying. Hands struggled to pick me up. I fell into a pool of blood. I was picked up again and carried out of the hall and into my room. The servants ran out. I could hear shouting and wailing and people running back and forth. The door opened again. I heard two people.
'God in heaven, have you ever seen anything like it?' I did not recognize Piero's voice at first because it was trembling so much. 'He must have stabbed her six times in the face alone.'
'Her mother, too.' That was Bernardo.
'But why Cristoforo?'
'If Ugo was poisoned, then Cristoforo must have changed sides.'
'But why?'
'It does not make sense. What about Alessandro?'
'He is pleading for his life even now.'
'And Giovanni?'
'Who knows?'
Footsteps moved closer to my bed. Piero must have leaned over me for suddenly I smelled the fat of his hair. His hand felt my throat. 'He is still breathing.' He opened one of my eyes and then the other and stared at me. He leaned down to hear my heart and the fat on his balding head was right up against my nose. I thought I would throw up, but as I did not know whether it was safe yet, I pushed him away, sat up and, remembering the story of Socrates, pointed to Piero and said in a trembling voice, 'Pay Tommaso the ten scudi I owe him,' and sank back down again as if dead.
'What did he say?' Bernardo gasped.
At that moment the door opened and Miranda ran in and threw herself on my chest, wailing, 'Babbo, babbo!'
Her cries were so pitiful and heart-wrenching that even if I had really swallowed poison I would have roused myself from the dead to comfort her.
'The devil is fighting for his soul,' Bernardo said, 'and the devil has won.'
'No, babbo, no!' Miranda cried.
'Serves him right. He spoiled everything,' Bernardo grunted and left the room.
I heard Piero whisper to Miranda. 'Come with me. I will give you some olive oil. If you pour it down his throat you may still save him.'
'Oh, please hurry,' Miranda cried.
'Do not worry,' Piero chuckled, 'he will live.' .
I could still hear footsteps running along the corridors, and people shouting and yelling. Servants ran in to look at me and then ran out so as not to miss anything. Soon Miranda returned, lifted my head, and poured olive oil down my throat. Moments later, I was retching so hard I could have expelled Jonah himself. Miranda was overjoyed, weeping and kissing me at the same time.
'Babbo's alive,' she kept saying.
Just then Tommaso came in wrinkling his nose at my vomit. 'What happened?' he asked, suspiciously.
'What happened?' I gasped. 'You fool! I was poisoned!'
Tommaso frowned. 'Federico's food was not poisoned.'
'Yes, it was,' Miranda said angrily. 'How can you say that? Babbo nearly died!' She would have beaten him with her fists if I had not whispered, 'Miranda, please get me a piece of bread.'
As soon as she left the room, I said, 'What are you talking about? You said poison.'
His eyes widened. 'No! I would have told you if Federico's food was poisoned. He poisoned their food.'
Christ on a cross! The puzzle had been upside down the whole time! Now I understood why Federico was so generous with the gifts, why he acted so surprised when I had fallen sick. He had planned to poison Giovanni, Emilia, and Pia and my pretending to be poisoned had confused everyone. But I still could not let anyone know the truth. 'But why did Federico kill Cristoforo?' I asked.
'He must have thought Cristoforo had tricked him,' Tommaso shrugged.
'But Alessandro—'
'Alessandro has been working for Federico since the moment he arrived.'
How did Tommaso know this? To be sure I was not being trapped, I said, 'But I was sick. The bone grew warm in my hand.'
'You had better hope Federico believes you,' Tommaso snorted.
Dressed in his armor, Federico was seated at his desk, his sword by his side. I had never seen him in his armor before, but I understood immediately how fearsome he must have looked on the battlefield. Bernardo, Cecchi, and Piero hovered behind him. Alessandro was not with them — Federico had imprisoned him until he knew exactly what h
ad happened. I walked slowly toward Federico, for the retching had exhausted me. When I was in front of him he suddenly stood up, grasped my neck with both hands, and lifted me right off the floor.
'Why in the devil's name are you alive and my best cook is dead?' he roared.
The room spun around me. 'Your Excellency—' My air was cut off. My heart beat in my ears and I could taste my own blood.
'My Lord,' Cecchi exclaimed. 'This is a blessing.'
'A blessing? How?' Federico let me go and I fell to the floor coughing and spluttering.
'If Emilia and her mother had been poisoned, the pope would have blamed you,' Cecchi explained. 'But because Ugo fell sick everyone will know an attempt was made on your life. You were forced to take action against murderous assaults. Giovanni's leaving is proof of his guilt!'
I could have kissed Cecchi's feet. No wonder they called him 'Il Cicerone di Corsoli.' It was a brilliant idea and for the second time in my life I praised God that this honorable and noble man had come to my aid.
'It is a pity Ugo was not killed,' that pig Bernardo grumbled. 'That would have been the best proof of Giovanni's intentions. We could still kill him.'
'But if anyone asks him, he will say he was poisoned,' Cecchi said.
'But I was poisoned,' I said, and, struggling to my feet pulled out the bone which I had broken into two pieces. 'The Virgin Mary said if I was poisoned my unicorn horn would break in two—'
Federico knocked the pieces out of my hand with one blow. 'Leave me,' he ordered. 'All of you. Except Ugo.' They hurried out.
It had stopped raining, but the wind was whipping around the castle to make sure that no one could escape. Federico leaned back in his chair and lowered his chin to his chest. His eyes became small and hard. 'Cristoforo poisoned three skeletons. One each for Emilia, Pia, and Giovanni.' He paused, waiting for me to speak.
'He must have poisoned yours as well, Your Excellency.'
Federico reached across the desk. 'You mean this one?' He lay the footless skeleton in front of me.
'Yes, Your Excellency,' I said, indignantly. 'That is the one.'
'Are you telling the truth?' His eyebrows raised questioningly.
'The gospel truth, Your Excellency.'
'Because if you are not, the rack will make you confess.'
'My Lord, if you put me on the rack I will confess to killing Jesus Christ himself.'
Federico scratched his nose and licked his lips. 'There is only one way to find out.' He pushed the skeleton toward me. 'Eat it.'
I stared at the cookie. 'My Lord, if it is poisoned, then you will lose the best food taster you have ever had.'
Federico's eyes did not waver from my face. 'You are either very smart or very lucky. Which is it?'
'I am very lucky to serve you, Your Excellency.'
Federico's face soured. 'I was hoping you were smart. I am surrounded by idiots.'
I cursed myself for not being braver. Federico rose from the desk, took out a key, went to a door, and opened it. Even as he unlocked it, part of the wall on my right moved slightly. I thought that Federico's key was moving this wall, but Federico did not look up. An eye peered into the room, saw me, and retreated into the darkness; and the wall moved silently back into place again. I was about to say something, but my words were stilled by the sight of thousands upon thousands of gold coins lying in a heap on the floor of the closet Duke Federico had opened.
He picked up two gold coins and threw them to me. 'Have some new clothes made. Tell Cecchi I said you should have a new room.'
'Mille grazie, Your Excellency, mille grazie!' He held out his right hand and allowed me to kiss it.
I left the duke's chambers as if I had been crowned pope. 'Look at me now, Vittore! You poxy goat! And you too, papa!' I shouted, 'Look at me now!'
Miranda was rocking backward and forward on the bed, cradling Felicita to her bosom. I tossed a gold coin into her lap and cried, 'We are to get a new room and new clothes. And you will have a brother for I am to be a father again!' I pulled her to her feet and swung her around the room. 'I must find Agnese.'
'No, babbo,' Miranda said.
'You do not want a brother? Very well, you shall have a sister.'
She squeezed Felicita's neck as if it was just a piece of wood instead of her precious doll.
'What is it? Speak up.'
'Agnese is dead,' she whispered.
'Dead? No, she is in the laundry.'
She shook her head.
'Tell me,' I cried.
Tears poured down her face. The words burbled out in such confusion that I made her repeat them three times before I could understand what had happened. 'Giovanni killed her! When Agnese heard the screaming she ran into the courtyard. He was coming out of the palace. The stable boys said he struck her down for no reason.'
Oi me! How many times can a man's heart be broken without killing him? My mother. My best friend, Toro. Elisabetta. Agnese. My unborn child. All dead. Everyone I loved except Miranda. What was God telling me? That I must not love? Did that mean I would lose Miranda, too? I prayed to God but He did not answer me so I cursed Him. I cursed all the times I had prayed to Him and then, fearing He would avenge Himself, I wept, asking for His forgiveness, and begging Him to protect Miranda from me.
CHAPTER 15
I have not written for several days because I ran out of paper. Septivus would not give me any more until his order arrived from Fabriano. It came today and so I will hurry and catch my story up to these present events.
The palace changed after the killings. After convincing Federico that he had not double-crossed him, Alessandro was rewarded with Giovanni's rooms and his role as ambassador. Tommaso was put to work in the kitchen and I was thrown into a pit of despair. The archbishop offered to bury Agnese in the graveyard, but I insisted that it be the glade where we had spent so many happy hours. I crawled on the ground weeping and tearing at my hair even as my father had done when my mother died. I sang Agnese's sad little song in words I did not understand. I climbed into the grave and held her close to me to remember her smell and the feel of her body. I cut off a lock of her hair. Then I wept all over again for the child I never knew. Cecchi came to fetch me, for Federico would soon be eating his evening meal.
I cursed Federico and said I did not care if he imprisoned me. Cecchi said Federico would most certainly do that and forced me to go with him. He warned me to hide my tears because it would upset Federico, but even as I tasted a capon bathed in lemon sauce, I was overcome with sorrow. Cecchi whispered something to Federico, who looked at me and said, 'Ugo, I did not know Giovanni killed your amorosa. He is an evil man and you will be avenged.'
'Grazie,' I sobbed, 'mille grazie.'
Then Federico addressed everyone at the table, saying in a solemn voice, 'There is no pain that time will not soften.'
Everyone nodded and pleased with this morsel of wisdom, Federico turned to me again and said, 'So stop crying!' Then he bit into his food.
Agnese's face appeared to me in my dreams and in my waking hours. Her voice called to me from behind every pillar and doorway. I lit candles in the Duomo Santa Caterina and begged God to forgive me for the part I had played in the killings of Pia and her family, for as sure as night followed day, I knew Agnese had been killed for my sins.
So drowned in grief were my senses that it was not until some time later that I realized servants I did not know were calling me 'Ugo,' and asking if I had slept well. They complimented me on my appearance, offered to do favors for me, and asked me to speak to Federico for them. One morning, the new cook Luigi, a man with stooped shoulders and a goatee, took me by the arm and whispered, 'I swear on my life I will never do anything to harm Duke Federico or you.'
'They think you were saved by a miracle,' Tommaso snorted. 'If they knew that you faked it—'
'But you are not going to tell them any different. If everyone is scared of me it will stop them from trying to poison Federico.'
Tommaso folded
and unfolded his arms — his tongue flapped like a banner in the wind for it was against his nature to keep a secret. It was in that moment that I recognized that it was his eye I had seen in the wall. He was a spy for Federico! That was why the serving boys had warned me about him my first day in the palace. That was why he warned me against getting too close to Federico. That was how he knew Giovanni's food had been poisoned. I did not tell him I recognized him. Even if he could not keep a secret, I could.
He was fifteen now and growing taller by the day. He did not like working in the kitchen — the spices made him sneeze — but I needed him there so I flattered him, saying, 'One day you will be Federico's chef.'
'And then Miranda will have to respect me,' he said.
Oi me! I had hoped he had forgotten about Miranda, but she was growing prettier by the day, the other boys commented on it, and no doubt this fired his passion.
Miranda and I were given a new room with two beds, a beautifully painted chest, and a solid oak desk. Our windows overlooked Emilia's garden which, now that she was dead, was abandoned to the roses, daisies, and other wildflowers. At night their fragrances drifted up to our window and scented my dreams.
The biggest changes in the palace came because of Bianca, Federico's new whore. She acted as if she had been born a princess. She looked haughtily at everyone, but issued her orders in a voice as soft as a kitten's purr, so no one knew which was her truer self. Perhaps because she had been a whore for so long, they say she had started at twelve, she knew exactly what men were thinking the moment they set eyes on her. Consequently, she could coax them into doing anything she wanted. Luigi inquired daily if there was a particular dish she liked. Bernardo hurried to consult the stars for her every morning, even making up excuses so that he might see her more often. Even Cecchi ordered special wines from Orvieto, Urbino, and Roma for her.
Bianca bought new clothes and jewelry, rearranged the furniture, and held little parties for her old friends. The sound of the whores gossiping made the wives of the courtiers jealous, but the men never said anything. She was careful never to offend Federico, but if, for some reason, his lip fell down to his chin, Bianca took him by the hand and led him back to her room. I do not know what they did behind those doors but sometimes he was too exhausted to leave for days. And when he did, he was smiling! It is the gospel truth! He hunted, he falconed, he played tricks to amuse himself — he ordered a lame woman to dance with a blind man — and insisted that I be with him at all times. Not that he spoke to me unless it was about food, as when after tasting Luigi's specialty of veal wrapped in bacon and toasted on bread, he turned to me and said, 'This is excellent. I should have killed Cristoforo long ago.'
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