Then I raised the bowl to my face and turned slowly in a circle. I pretended not to see the faces staring at me, some in bewilderment, others in surprise. The archbishop was frowning and Helene was looking at me with wide open eyes. I remember thinking, now she will know I exist.
When I had turned a full circle I blew slowly over the berries and then placed the bowl in Onionface's hands. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. I could smell his fear. I turned my back on him and walked to my place. 'Let us eat at the same time,' I said, lifting a piece of meat from the platter.
Onionface looked at the berries and then at me. 'He is a witch,' he whimpered, pointing to me. Cecchi and Bernardo burst into laughter.
'He is scared,' Septivus said. The others repeated, 'He is scared!' The whole of Corsoli was behind me!
'Go on!' Federico suddenly roared. 'Take one!' Others, too, added their voices, shouting, 'Yes, take one.'
It was as if Onionface had been challenged and not me. Sforza said something to Onionface. Onionface reached for one of the berries, then he withdrew his hand. Sweat trickled down his cheeks.
'Pick one!' The Genoese merchant shouted.
'No, do not touch it,' someone said. 'He has put a spell on it.'
'By God! I will eat one,' said a German knight.
'No,' shouted Cecchi.
Federico rose to his feet, his face twisting with pain because of the weight on his gouty foot, and leaned his massive great body toward Onionface. This made everyone stand, even the archbishop. The dogs barked and a candle fell from the chandelier onto the pile of jewelry. No one was looking at me. Onionface reached into the bowl and picked up a berry.
'Taste it!' shouted Federico.
'Now!' I called out, and lifted the meat to my mouth.
Onionface raised the berry to his mouth. His hand seemed to be at war with itself, one force pushing it toward his lips, the other pulling it away. The berry touched his mouth and as soon as it did, he dropped the bowl. His eyes bulged out of his head as he staggered backward, lurching about like a ship in a storm, clutching at his heart. Then he crashed to the ground, spit drooling from his mouth. For an instant no one moved. Then the archbishop pushed his way to Onionface's side and, in the time it takes for a fly to beat its wings, someone behind me pulled my arm down and replaced the piece of meat with another.
'I am ready to taste,' I said loudly, and bit into the meat. Everyone turned around.
Federico grabbed the paper in the middle of the table.
'I taste mozzarella cheese . . . raisins . . . parsley,' I said loudly, 'Garlic, salt, fennel, pepper and veal. It must be polpetta!'
'That is right,' said Federico, reading off the paper, 'although not in that order. But that does not matter, does it?'
Onionface was forgotten as Duke Sforza snatched the paper from Federico. The dandy and the Fat One were looking at me, waiting for me to scream, to shout out, to fall down. I knew I would not, but pretending I did not know they were watching, I took another bite, chewed it a little, furrowed my brow as if there was something wrong with it, coughed slightly, finished chewing, swallowed and belched loudly. 'It is delicious!' I said, 'I compliment the cook.'
'I win!' Federico exclaimed, and scooped up as many jewels as he could in his fat, pudgy hands. Cecchi took the rest. Leaning on my arm, Federico walked out of the banquet hall, clenching his jaws, but refusing to acknowledge the pain his gout was causing him.
'Now,' Federico said, as soon as we reached his quarters, 'what was
that about the polpetta?'
'My Lord, the polpetta was poisoned. I am sure of it.'
'Poisoned!' His small eyes became like arrow points. 'How do you
know?'
'The other tasters have attacked me from the moment I arrived. Two weeks ago they lay in wait for me in the garden. They must have told Duke Sforza because if you recall he suggested the bet. They wanted to kill me and win back your winnings at the same time.'
'Then why did you eat it if you knew it was poisoned?'
'Because you changed it, Your Honor.'
'I changed nothing.'
I looked to Cecchi. He shook his head, as did Piero, Bernardo, and
Septivus.
Could I have imagined it?
'Triple the guards outside my door,' Federico barked. 'Cecchi, we leave in the morning.'
The courtiers hurried to fulfill his commands. I wondered whether I had lost my senses and I tried to recall if I had touched the flesh of the hand that held the other piece of veal, but I could not.
'Ugo,' Federico said.
'Yes, Excellency.'
He ran his hands through the pile of jewels. 'I do not know what happened. I do not care. But here.' He tossed me a most beautiful silver ring sparkling with precious gems.
'Mille grazie, Your Excellency.' I said, and kissed his hand.
'Be careful,' he said roughly. 'The Sforzas do not like to lose.'
'Mille grazie, Duke Federico, mille grazie'
Septivus and Piero congratulated me as I entered the hallway, but Bernardo spat out some seeds and said, 'You must have been born under the sign of the lion.'
'Because of my boldness?'
'Because you have as many lives as a cat.'
'To the winner go the spoils,' Cecchi murmured, and told me to go to the bottom of the stairs.
Remembering what Federico had said, I took out my knife and slowly descended the steps, carefully looking all around me. The voices of other guests drifted toward me as I reached the bottom stair. But there was no one there except for the portraits staring at me from the walls. A voice whispered. 'Ugo!'
I turned around and there she was, standing beside a column, her blue eyes shining in the light of the sconces. Helene. My Helene, calling my name.
'Are you all right?' She asked, raising her hand toward my throat.
'It was you! You switched—'
Footsteps came toward us. Helene pulled me behind the column and we waited until they passed. I would have been happy to remain there, feeling her warmth, smelling the sweetness of her hair. Motioning I should follow, she led me down staircases, through darkened hallways, and into the palace gardens. The stars were bright; the moon hung low over us.
'You saved my life, Helene.' I needed to say her name aloud.
She shook her head so that her hair flew around her face. 'Phppft! Those fools! What did you do to the berries?'
'Niente.'
She smiled. 'I did not think so. But he is dead.'
'Onionface?'
'Onionface?'
'That is my name for him.'
'Yes, Onionface.' She smiled. 'That was a good name for him. His heart stopped. I tried to explain to the archbishop, but he does not care.'
'What concern is that of mine?'
'Because he investigates all suspicious activities for the Inquisition. He will not do anything tonight, but tomorrow...?'
'But why?'
'You blew on the berries and Onionface died!' She shrugged as if no
more explanation was necessary.
Oi me! How could I be thrust from heaven into hell so quickly? Helene paced in front of me, tapping her cheek with her finger. 'How long are you staying in Milano?'
'We leave tomorrow.'
'By which road?'
'I do not know—'
'Avoid Ferrara,' she frowned. 'The bishop has friends there.'
'They do not ask me which way to go.' I grasped her arms. 'Why are you telling me this?'
She tucked her head to one side and looked at me. 'I never believed those stories the other tasters said about you any more than I believed you poisoned the berries.'
'How could you be so sure?'
She laughed. 'If you knew magic you would not have said those stupid things in the garden or at the serving table.'
I could not have stopped smiling had someone sewn my lips together. Every word from her mouth delighted me. I slid my hands down her arms till I felt her hands. They were soft and
warm as I knew they would be. 'But if the archbishop comes for me tonight—'
'He will sleep till morning. He drank a lot of wine.'
Staring into her eyes I could see right into her heart; I saw myself walking beside her. I saw her bearing my children. I saw us old, unable to leave one another's side. I saw us in death, two branches of a tree entwined like Baucis and Philemon.
'Do you see our future?' she asked.
'You read minds, too?'
'Only yours, Ugo.' She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.
Oh, Helene. Oh, my glorious Helene. My delight, my happiness, my Helene. To hear her call my name. Had any word ever sounded so sweet? I asked her to say it again and again. I wanted to memorize the sound of her voice in my heart. Joy surged through us, causing us to laugh for no other reason than we were alive. I could not keep from touching her, kissing her lips. I thought food was the sustenance for which I hungered, but again I was wrong. Holding her in my arms, I wept because I had found my strength, my rib, that part of me I did not know was missing. Even now I feel her skin upon mine. I smell her. Taste her sweat. I see her eyes, round and clear, I feel her breasts, her thighs, her small, strong feet. I hear her voice in my ears and in my heart. Oh, that my fingers could transfer her softness to this paper and my quill could capture her passion! The very thought of her illuminates my darkness even as the moon brightens this room. Everything I am cries out for her. O saints preserve me! To be overcome by such longing on the eve of the wedding. The past has reached into my present and captured my soul and I cannot write anymore.
CHAPTER 23
When Helene pressed her lips against mine I was lifted beyond the skies to a place where all dreams are possible. I wanted to lie with her, but the sky was growing lighter and the servants would soon be rising to prepare our departure. I took Helene's hand and hurried to the stable. We mounted a stallion, whose impatient snorting woke a stable boy. He opened his mouth, as if to shout, but instead yelled, 'Courage!' and threw us a bundle of bread and cheese.
At the gates, Helene told the guards that we needed wild parsley to soothe our princes' stomachs.
'Where are we going?' I asked as the castello faded from view behind us.
'France,' Helene said, as if this was something we had both decided on.
I nodded. France. Why not? What was there here for me?
Our horse galloped with great speed. Soon the castello and Milano were no more than memories. Everything aided us in our journey. The grass lay down as we approached, the birds cheered us on, and the green hills beckoned us forward.
I imagined how Federico would gnash his teeth when he discovered I was missing. At first he would think I had been killed. He would surround himself with guards and leave hurriedly, clutching his winnings. But perhaps a horse would be reported missing. Then it would be known that I had left. I could be hanged just for taking a horse. Christ! I could be hanged just for leaving! But when I felt Helene's arms around my waist and her head against my back, I did not care. O, God in heaven! The devil take Federico and Duke Sforza and the whole lot of them. I was free! I could not contain my excitement and shouted with delight and wonder. For the third time in my life I had been reborn.
The snowcapped mountains lined up on our right like northern kings. Two travelers rode ahead of us and I called out to them, wanting to be certain that this path led to France. But as we galloped toward them, they grew frightened and raced away.
In the heat of the day we rested in a glade of beech trees and gorged ourselves on the bread and cheese. How good it tasted, each bite a blessing from heaven. I wanted to remember to tell Septivus that the most important thing about eating was not the food or the conversation but who you ate it with. We lay down amid the wildflowers and loved one another until we fell asleep.
When we awoke, the setting sun had ignited the mountaintops. We rode swiftly for several more hours before we stopped at an inn. The first people we saw when we entered were the travelers we had seen on the path. I assured them we had not intended them any harm. The smaller one clapped his hand to his heart and said, 'Ecco! I thought I would die of fright. You looked like the avenging angel the way you rode toward us.'
Helene told the innkeeper she was employed by the archbishop of Nimes and offered to cook his favorite meal in exchange for a bed. The innkeeper, a fellow with bushy eyebrows and a runny nose, happily agreed, in part I believe to annoy his wife, a large buxom woman with the arms of a blacksmith. We soaked two chickens in wine, added vinegar and spices, and while they baked, Helene made polenta cocina — a polenta sprinkled with grated cheese and truffles — a Sunday delight in Piedmont.
After the first mouthful, the innkeeper said, 'If you cook like this every day, I will hire you as soon as my wife dies.' To which his wife replied, 'I promise you however long you live I will live one day longer.'
It was in these good spirits that we ate and drank, surrounded by good company and good food. Suddenly, Helene started to laugh, softly at first, but soon louder and louder and with great abandon. She pointed to my trencher where my polenta lay half eaten. Hers was, too. Only then did I understand why she was laughing. Food tasters both of us, we had not tasted our food before eating it. We had not sniffed at it, nibbled it, or tested it in any way, but had enjoyed it just as our companions were doing.
I pulled Helene from the bench, held her tightly in my arms, and kissed her. Even tired and weary from our journey, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. 'This moment,' I told her, 'will be carved in my heart forever.'
Our companions cheered and the smaller man said it was easy to see we were deeply in love. Thus, we were fulfilling God's most divine law, for He had sent love to ease man's path through life, and the sicknesses and wars which plagued us existed because man had forgotten this divine commandment.
Three soldiers entered the inn and for a moment my heart stopped, but since they were not wearing Federico's colors or those of the archbishop I thought no more about them. The innkeeper brought the soldiers some wine and when he returned to our table he said, 'Those soldiers keep looking at you.'
I said I did not know why they should, but even as I was speaking two of them approached our table. The captain, a man with broad shoulders and a rough beard, said, 'What is your name and where are your passports?'
I said, 'Ugo DiFonte. I am traveling with Duke Federico Basillione DiVincelli of Corsoli, but I have left him.' I do not know what excuse I was about to give, but it did not matter for as soon as I said Corsoli the soldiers looked at one another and the other interrupted, asking, 'Is that close to the Convent Verecondo?'
I replied it was no more than half a day's ride. He asked if I had heard of a Prince Garafalo. I said I had not, but only because I had never been in this part of Italy before. At this he eagerly laid a hand on my arm. 'You must come with us right away to see our prince.'
When I asked why, he said he could not tell me. Well, I had not left one prison to be thrown into another! I pushed his arm away, and leaping up, I knocked him backward over the bench with a blow to the head. Then I grabbed the carving knife and, pulling Helene behind me, shouted, 'Though we are strangers here we hoped that we would be treated with respect. But if you or the prince are intent on harming us, then be prepared to die for I will not exchange the liberty God has given me for the chains of man.'
He quickly rose up and said they were not here to harm us. The innkeeper cried out, 'Prince Garafalo is a good man who loves every living thing. He often comes here to eat just to be with his subjects.'
The soldier I had knocked down said they had simply been charged to take me to the prince, adding that if they had frightened me they were sorry. I wondered how this Prince Garafalo could have already known about me. However, trusting to God, I put down the knife and said that as their prince seemed to be a peace-loving man, I would be happy to accompany them. So without finishing the meal we had so lovingly prepared, Helene and I bid farewell to our gentle hosts and allowed
ourselves to be led to Prince Garafalo's palace.
Fireflies lit our way through vineyards and orchards of perfumed orange trees till we arrived at the prince's palace. Peacocks roamed the grounds, their colors blending with the many beautiful flowers. We were given water to refresh ourselves and clean clothes to wear. Suddenly, I was overcome with fear and seeing me tremble, the servant asked the reason for it. 'If this leads to another job like that of a food taster,' I replied, 'I would prefer to take the poison now.'
Again I was assured that Prince Garafalo was a good man and intended neither of us any harm. I was led to a small room with beautifully carved chairs and a writing desk where Helene soon joined me. She had also bathed, washed her hair, and now wore a red gown exactly the same as she had worn in my dream. Not a moment later the door opened and a servant announced Prince Garafalo.
The first thing I noticed about him was his bowlegs which made him rock from side to side as he walked. The next was his good-natured spirit, for although he had a head of white hair like a sheep waiting to be shorn, he had the energy of a man half his age. I understood immediately why the soldiers and the innkeeper worshiped him so highly.
He came right up to me, staring into my face. Holding me at arm's length, he peered at me from head to toe, examining my hands and legs. Then he squinted at my face again. The soldier offered something to the prince, but the prince said, 'I do not have to see it. I know. This is he! This is he!'
Although the prince had a manner about him which made me love him immediately, I disliked being prodded like a chicken so I said, ‘I am who?'
The prince laughed and, throwing his arms around me, cried, 'My son! My son!'
You cannot imagine how I felt. The walls swirled around, the blood rushed to my head, and I fell to the floor as if I were dead.
The Food Taster Page 16
