The Food Taster

by Peter Elbling

  'Ugo DiFonte, Your Excellency. Your food taster. Your faithful servant. I heard Miranda scream -'

  Behind me the guard tore my room apart, searching through the bedclothes and overturning my desk.

  'I smell it!' Federico hissed. 'I smell it.' He slashed the air with his sword and stabbed my bedclothes over and over.

  I wanted to say, 'Your Excellency, it is not Miranda's fault but that ass, Tommaso. Kill him and your worries will be over!' But as I raised my head I saw Miranda's pleading, terrified eyes — so I said nothing. Besides I could not say anything without implicating her.

  Federico hobbled into the hall, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor. When I could hear them no longer I went into Miranda's room. She was sitting up, trembling and shaking. She reached out her arms to me. 'Babbo,' she wept, 'Babbo.'

  I told her that God has plans for all of us and that we must trust in Him. Even when the world is against us, when darkness and evil overtake us, we must have faith in Him. For the blackest clouds disperse in time, revealing the sun. So it is with God. For those who believe in Him, He is the sun and like the sun He will heal us when the clouds of dismay have vanished.

  Miranda did not say anything; she did not have to, for she knew, that it was not her I was trying to convince, but myself.

  The fifth day.

  Dear God, why do you not listen to me? I pray for your guidance but YOU GIVE ME NONE! My world is shattered. Giovanni's guards came for me again. This time they just burst into my room and dragged me to Giovanni. As soon as I stood before him, Giovanni asked, 'Ugo DiFonte, do you believe in God?'

  'Of course,' I made the sign of the cross. 'God the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. Our creator. Our Father.'

  'Our Father?'

  'Yes. Our Father, that is to say, we are made in His image.'

  Giovanni chewed the end of his quill. 'If we are made in His image, ipso facto, He must reflect us, n'est-cepas?'

  'I am sorry, Cardinal Giovanni, but I do not know what you mean.'

  'If we are made in His image then He must be like us,' he repeated.

  'Our strengths are His strengths and our weaknesses His weaknesses.'

  'Cardinal Giovanni, your words are sharper than your sword. I am just a peasant—'

  'If you were a peasant you would not be wearing those clothes and be sitting at Duke Federico's table tomorrow night with your own taster,' he snapped. 'So,' he carried on, 'according to you, God can be caring and yet uncaring. Merciful, but cruel—'

  'Cardinal Giovanni -'

  'Selfish, arrogant, a thief, a murderer—'

  'We are made in God's image, but our failings come because we stray from His teachings.'

  'What is the worst failing?'

  I was afraid to answer for no matter what I said I knew it would be wrong.

  'Pride, Ugo.'

  'It is as you say then.'

  'Are you not proud of your daughter?'

  'But is that a sin?'

  He ignored me. 'You are proud of your daughter. You are proud you have risen from a food taster to a courtier. You are proud you have cheated death. Your pride is like a stench around you. You walk about in your fancy silks, but you are still a peasant. And a witch. That is all.'

  He waved a hand and I was thrown out of the room. Still he did not arrest me. Why? On the way back I saw Miranda talking to Tommaso in Emilia's garden.

  'This is madness,' I said to them. 'You were nearly killed last night and now today—'

  'We were discussing the dessert for the banquet,' Miranda said coldly, and walked away.

  Tommaso followed her with his eyes and I stepped in front so no one might see. 'There are guests everywhere! I cannot believe you would sacrifice her life so.'

  'I?' he cried. 'You have already done so,' and he too walked away.

  They lie. They are planning something. That is why they stopped talking when they saw me. They plan to poison Federico, and me, too. I know it. I know it. I, who persuaded Tommaso to become a chef, am going to be poisoned by him. And my daughter is going to help him. That is a comedy even Boccaccio would envy.

  I wanted to tell Duke Federico about Cardinal Giovanni and Tommaso, but after last night I no longer know if he will listen to me. Besides, whenever he eats or wherever he goes he is surrounded by guests. Even when I taste his food in the morning there are people around him. This time he was playing cards with the duke of Perugia and Marguerite of Rimini. I waited for the game to finish, but he started another immediately. I know he saw me, but he avoided me. Is it because of Cardinal Giovanni? I do not care anymore. I will speak with him at the banquet even if I have to yell.

  The actors will perform more plays tonight because the pageant has been canceled because of rain. It is a shame. I looked forward to seeing Hercules chasing the unicorn and the unicorn changing into Venus. Now the Piazza San Giulio will only be used for the caccia. I pray that will not be canceled. Now I must dress. I tried to talk to Miranda, but she was surrounded by guests and friends. There is no banquet tonight. After everything we ate last night, it is a wonder anyone will ever want to eat again.

  The fifth night.

  Tommaso! That stupid, hot-headed ignorant fool! If he wants to kill himself, then let him do so, but he will cause Miranda's death, too. I knew they were planning something. Miranda was smiling and talking with the guests and clutching Federico's hand, but I did not believe her for an instant. Then, while the actors were performing the piece about the nun again, I suddenly thought of Vittore. Perhaps it was the nun's cell which alerted me, I do not know. Whatever it was, I slipped away from the performance and looked for Tommaso. He was not in the kitchen nor in his room. Like a madman I ran all over the palace. Then suddenly I knew. I raced to the prison. The guard was not at the top of the stairs, and, as fate should have it, when I came to the bottom I saw someone struggling with the lock of Vittore's cell. I called out. 'In the name of Duke Federico, stop what you are doing.'

  Tommaso turned round. He was trembling and panting, his mouth open, his hair in disarray.

  'Open it!' Vittore commanded. Tommaso fumbled with the key again.

  I pulled out my dagger. 'Do not make me kill you, Tommaso.'

  'He does not have the balls,' Vittore hissed.

  'He will take Miranda and murder you. Remember what happened after the sabbats,' I pleaded.

  'I cannot live without her,' Tommaso cried.

  He turned the key. I ran at him and that bastard Vittore pushed the cell door open so violently that Tommaso fell backward onto my knife. He screamed as the blade sank into his thigh. I staggered back. 'Ugo!' he cried.

  I collapsed under his weight and he fell on top of me. His cry brought the guards. I pushed Tommaso off me and as he rolled over, blood poured from the wound. His hand grasped my shirt.

  'Why did you not listen to me?' I pleaded.

  'I will try . . .' His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted.

  'Ugo killed him!' Vittore shouted. He had slipped back into his cell and was holding the door closed. The guards tried to arrest me, but I fought them, yelling that it was Vittore who had stabbed him.

  'But he is locked in his cell,' said the guard. 'And this is your knife?'

  'Put him in here,' Vittore shouted.

  I tried to explain what I had seen, but in my anger and despair I made no sense.

  'Where is the key to the cell?' the guard demanded.

  'Vittore must have it.'

  'He is in the cell,' the stupid guard repeated and started to drag me up the stairs. 'He will escape!' I shouted.

  Fortunately, Cecchi had become alarmed at my disappearance and came by at that moment. He ordered the guards to search the cell and they found the key buried beneath the straw. Tommaso was carried away and Piero attended to him. Shaking, I went to my room and waited for Miranda.

  She arrived, pale and trembling, with Cecchi by her side. 'What is it?' she kept saying, 'what is it?'

  Cecchi said, 'Tommaso was stabbed
trying to release Vittore.'

  Miranda would have fallen to the floor had Cecchi not caught her and slapped her about the face. He said if Federico discovered that she had been involved trying to free Vittore he would kill her himself. He said she had endangered not only herself, but me and others in the palace. He told her to put away all memory of Tommaso and never think of him again. Then he took her by the hand and led her away.

  I think now, finally, she has grasped that there is nothing she can do. I pray the wound in Tommaso's thigh will remind him, too.

  The sixth day — midday.

  I have not slept. I look at my hands and do not recognize them. Although I tell myself that it was Vittore who pushed Tommaso onto me, I would have stabbed him to death in the next moment. Although the wound is deep, Tommaso will live. Even now he is making the pastry for the last banquet. I remember hearing that brown eyes mean that their owner is clever and wise, but Tommaso has brown eyes and he is foolish. Brave but foolish. Is he brave because he is foolish? How could he have believed Vittore would help him?

  Miranda dressed in a gown which showed her breasts to the nipples. She painted her face with so much rouge that a fly would have left a mark had it landed there.

  "Why are you doing this?'

  'Since I am a whore, I am dressing like one.'

  'Miranda, listen to me!'

  'Or what? You will kill me?'

  I walked toward her but she clutched a knife and screamed 'Guard! Guard!' so loudly that I left.

  It is astonishing how this tragedy unfolds unnoticed amid all the festivities. Even now the bell of Santa Caterina leaps out of the vestry, its chimes joyfully tumbling into one another. The golden Madonna glimmers in the sunlight. Banners hang from every window and loggia, people sing and dance. They know nothing of this. Even if they did, it would not stop their merrymaking. Nothing can prevent today's celebration. The wedding will take place. I wish my mother could see it. My father, too. But both are dead. Soon my brother Vittore will join them. He, above all, deserves to die, but this afternoon I was filled with remorse. I wanted to ask Federico that since the rain has stopped and death is not a good omen for the marriage, perhaps the caccia should be postponed till after the wedding. But Federico will not listen to me.

  Night.

  It was a shame the pageant was canceled because by the light of the sconces the Piazza San Giulio was more beautiful than anyone could have imagined. When Miranda appeared the crowd embraced her, calling her an angel and the queen of Corsoli. They praised Federico for choosing her and wished them many children. It was such an outpouring of love that even Miranda was surprised and moved. A man shouted that our patron saint, Santa Caterina, could be seen in the stars smiling down upon us. The bishop prayed that we would always be worthy to be held in the palm of God's hand. Then cats and dogs were thrown into the piazza and immediately there was barking and mewling as they bit and scratched one another to death.

  The crowd shouted and yelled for the next event. After a flourish of trumpets a cart carrying a cage was pushed into the garden. It held three men: the first, a thief who had scraped gold leaf from the Madonna on the Duomo Santa Caterina; the second, the prison guard Tommaso had bribed when he tried to free Vittore; and the third was Vittore. More trumpet blasts announced another cage bearing the lion. The keepers freed the lion and then hurriedly clambered onto a platform. The thief tried to climb up after them, but the crowd pushed him back into the mud. The guard fell to his knees and prayed. Vittore stood next to a tree, his jacket and hose as torn and dirty as the day he arrived.

  The lion walked slowly out of the cage, its knotty tail flicking back and forth. It had a large head and a huge mane, but it was so thin you could see its ribs. 'It must be from Corsoli,' a woman shouted to much laughter. I wondered if the lion thought it was at home in Africa. Did it know all these trees and bushes had been brought in for its benefit? The crowd cheered and whistled. A star shot across the sky.

  Suddenly, Vittore shouted, 'Io sono vittima di una cospirazione! Cospirazione! Cospirazione!' He said it over and over, turning round and round and beating his chest with his long thin arms.

  The crowd mocked him, beating their chests and wailing, '' Cospirazione! Cospirazione!'

  The lion stood quite still, patiently waiting for his cue to begin.

  'Yes, I gave Federico a potion,' Vittore shouted, 'but not arsenic'

  'No one is interested in your lies,' I cried.

  The lion padded behind a bush. Vittore pointed at me and said, 'He does not want you to know the truth.'

  'You would not know the truth if you spoke it,' I shouted, and the crowd laughed.

  'I gave Federico mercury,' Vittore shouted. 'Do you know why?'

  Cristo in croce! Why was the lion taking so long?

  Pulling his hair away from his face, Vittore ran toward the balcony where Federico was sitting with Miranda. 'This will be your fate—'

  Even as it occurred to me that Vittore had been telling the truth about Federico, the lion leaped over the bush, caught Vittore's back leg in his jaw and pulled him to the wet ground. Vittore screamed. The lion clubbed Vittore's head with his paw. Vittore's legs jerked violently and his cry was silenced.

  Miranda collapsed and Federico lifted her up in his arms and carried her away, her handmaidens running after him. The crowd did not notice for they were too busy watching the lion. It tore Vittore's left shoulder from his body and bit into his chest. Blood shot into the air, covering the lion's face. Vittore's bones snapped like twigs and with each bite a part of me snapped until I wondered if I was not dying, too.

  'Tell all witches to come to Corsoli,' someone shouted. 'We have a hungry lion.'

  The crowd cheered. I was silent. Exhausted. Weighed down by the blood on my hands.

  As soon as the caccia was over I went to Federico's chambers, telling the guards that Federico had summoned me to tell him of Miranda's condition. Federico was standing by the window when I entered. 'How is Miranda?' he asked. His face was pale and worried.

  'She is recovering, Your Excellency.'

  He sighed deeply. 'Good. Good!' He clapped his hands together in a praying motion and then blew a kiss to heaven.

  I did not wait for permission to speak. 'Your Excellency, Cardinal Giovanni has accused me twice of witchcraft in Milano.' As if he had not heard, Federico turned his back on me to look out at the hillside. I did not let that stop me. 'He is talking about the time I blew on the berries. But I did not use any magic. As you know it was only by the grace of God that Onionface died.'

  Federico did not answer. Was he still thinking about Miranda? Perhaps he was hoping I would go away.

  'Your Honor—'

  'Ugo.' He turned toward me, and with a smile such as a parent uses to calm an anxious child, said, 'How long have you been my taster?'

  'Five years, My Lord.'

  'And you have served me faithfully.'

  'It has been my honor, Your Excellency.'

  'And now you are giving your daughter to me in marriage.' He laid a heavy hand upon my shoulder and stared straight into my eyes. 'Do you really think I would allow anything to happen to you?'

  'But -'

  'Think no more about it.'

  'Your Honor—'

  'And say no more about it.'

  I knew then, as sure as my name is Ugo DiFonte, that he was lying. But I had not served him for five years without learning anything, so I heaved a sigh of relief and said 'Your Excellency, you have given me new life and made me eternally grateful.' I kissed his hand. Then I hurried out of the room before I vomited.

  The poxy bastard has deserted me! Me! Who serves him faithfully. Who tastes his food and saves him from poison! Who gently lifts his gouty foul-smelling leg! Who fluffs his pillows. Who stands by his chair when he shits! It has something to do with Giovanni. I know it. But what?

  Night.

  I have found out why Federico lied to me! At the banquet I was as close to him as my quill is to this paper and
yet he refused to look at me. Miranda also refused, but I do not blame her. I would beg her forgiveness for I have wronged her terribly, but I do not have time.

  Halfway through the banquet, as golden platters stacked high with crests of hen and roast pigeon were being served, Cardinal Giovanni made a speech.

  'Love is the seed of life,' he said. 'There is love for one's family, love for mankind, and love for God. When one inspires the other, the windfall of happiness knows no bounds. Because of his great love for Miranda, Duke Federico has agreed to take his new bride on a pilgrimage to Roma to receive a blessing from the pope!'

  Everyone cheered Federico, who was beaming proudly! I looked at Miranda. She was completely mystified. But now, finally, I understood why Federico had not spoken to me! He has betrayed me! Betrayed me to satisfy a whim of Miranda's that she cannot even remember! Federico thinks by taking her to Roma as she had asked months ago, she will love him. And in return for safe passage Federico will allow Giovanni to arrest me. And I thought Federico would protect me! What a fool I have been! Federico will not protect me! Why should he? He no longer needs me. He will be married to Miranda who is loved by everyone. The peasants love him. The guests praise him!

  Giovanni sat down and everyone congratulated him for making peace with Federico. It was then that I lost control of all of my senses. What need had I for them anymore? Voices echoed inside my head like the shouting of giants. My eyes glazed over and I could not see. The power of my nose, which I used to control as finely as Grazzari controlled his paintbrush, no longer obeyed me. Suddenly, I could smell not only the garlic, the lemon, the smoked cheeses, and the fennel, but also the perfumes of ambergris, musk, and rosemary. I could detect the whiff of velvet in the robes of the guests, their woolen shirts, the beaten gold trimming on the dresses. While everyone around me was talking about Miranda meeting the pope, I was overcome by the stink of their unwashed hair, the damp sweat under their arms, the dirt between their toes, the shit in their culo. My eyes watered at the overpowering aroma of Federico's lust. I gagged on Giovanni's choking smugness. I was overcome by the stench of Miranda's despair. Holy Mother of God! What have I done to my daughter? I have sacrificed her so that I might eat again.