Once

by Elisabeth Grace Foley et al.

  “Your grandmother?”

  Nella looked down. “Nonna… she was no witch. She was a healer and a midwife though, and to some minds that can garner suspicion. She adopted me after my mother died, though we were not related by blood. She has been dead some years now.”

  “I am sorry.”

  Nella nodded, not wishing to talk about it. There had always been rumors that had spun around Nella in whispers, of how she was born during the famine when starvation had threatened the village, and how her father had spied a miraculously appearing bed of parsley in a neighbor’s garden. Parsley that he hadn’t thought twice about stealing to save his rapidly failing and heavily pregnant wife. But stealing food had been a capital offense in those days, and to escape execution, he had come to an agreement with the neighbor—Nonna—that the coming child would be given to her as recompense.

  The parsley had not been enough to save Nella’s mother, and she had died in childbirth, never knowing of her husband’s wretched bargain. He had died not long afterward. Nonna never spoke of Nella’s origins, but the villagers would talk, and the young girls, especially, were keen on relating their mothers’ gossip to Nella’s ears. She was never certain just how accurate or true their words were.

  “What about you? Have you a family?” she asked to deflect the conversation off of her.

  “I have a brother,” Ben told her. “And both of my parents are still alive. I have not always seen eye-to-eye with my parents—or my brother for that matter—but we are very close. They are far better people than I am.”

  “And do you often…” she searched for the correct phrasing, “…find damsels in need of saving?”

  “I try to help anyone in distress,” he said. “Man, woman, child. It matters not. I’ve made it my mission in life, going anywhere I please to fight injustice where I find it.” He grinned, his words filled with enthusiastic, boyish passion.

  Nella found it both admirable and naïve. She set a plate of food on the table before him. “I suppose you are kept busy then, with all the injustices in the world.”

  “Last summer I journeyed to Milan—that’s a tale, for certain. Sforza is determined to secure an ally against Venice, and he is looking to France. I ran into some rioters protesting his taxes, and barely escaped with my head intact.” He cleared his throat, perhaps noticing Nella’s guarded and disapproving look. Or perhaps he had realized that his voice had taken on a somewhat self-important, lordly tone. “But enough talk of politics—I hear far too much of it at home.”

  “So you are well-travelled, then?” Nella asked, interested in spite of herself.

  “I would say so,” he admitted with no trace of arrogance. “There is not a state in Italy I haven’t visited. I travelled once to France and to Spain, and twice to Switzerland.”

  Jealousy threatened Nella until she reminded herself that she hated traveling. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

  “It can be, which is my favorite part.” He grinned rakishly and took a sip of the watered-down wine Nella had given him. Nella frowned at his admiration of recklessness, wondering how anyone could find the prospect of danger appealing. She didn’t think she liked this man, full of arrogance and immodest opinions of his own valor. He finished drinking and set down his cup.

  “Why did you really come back?” she asked, feeling suspicious. “You didn’t need to tell me goodbye. So why waste your time to come here?”

  “Because I think you need a friend,” Ben said simply. “And I am available.”

  “I don’t need friends,” she told him, offended. “I do just fine on my own.”

  “No one should be alone, my friend!”

  “You are not my friend!”

  “I shall attempt to salvage my pride and not take your words to heart, my kind lady.”

  “Oh, you are impossible!” She slapped her dishrag against the table and stalked away. What she was truly afraid of was that he would take her up on her words and leave. She didn’t want him to.

  But she also never wanted to see him again.

  But then again, she also craved his company.

  “Do you truly wish for me to leave and never return, Signorina?” he asked, still standing in the doorway. Nella turned to look at him and for a moment saw the first sign of awkwardness that he had ever displayed. Ah, so you are not immune to rejection, she thought with triumph. “I do wish it!” she said firmly and turned away.

  “I see. I will not bother you again.”

  Nella never thought of playing games; she did not think she wanted him back. But as he turned to go, a strange sort of panic overtook her. “No! I did not mean it!”

  He looked at her in astonishment.

  “Oh, I do not know what I want!” She walked away, angry at the way she could not control her emotions or her words in his company. It was easy to pretend she was happy and all right when she was alone, or even when Cornelius came by and stayed safely fifteen feet below her. But Ben was there. He was close enough to see her face. And she had no practice at hiding from her feelings under such scrutiny. She walked into her library and slammed the door behind her, feeling as though she was going mad. Or perhaps I already am. Perhaps I am insane, and I do not know how to speak to others.

  She heard footsteps come closer to the door. “So I’ll come back tomorrow, then?” he asked through the door, and she almost laughed in her frustration.

  “Yes,” she yelled, hating herself, the world, and everything in it. “Come back tomorrow!”

  Benedict still didn’t know what had possessed him to return to the forest. Wouldn’t it be easier to pretend I had never met such an infuriating and unstable woman in the first place? He could not tell if he was truly violating her wishes. She said that she didn’t like company, but seemed strangely conflicted about it, one moment all but pushing him out the door and the next engaging him in conversation. Or her dislike of you is clear, and you are only misinterpreting her actions. Are you so arrogant that you believe every woman must find your presence fascinating? At any rate, he was thankful to have her permission to see her again. How can anyone live like that? Wasn’t she lonely? He still felt that he was on a mission, though not the one he had originally thought to accomplish. This one was different. She is still held captive in some way. My work here is not yet done.

  He looked back at the tower, his last glance before turning around the bend into the trees. It was tall, only a few feet shorter than the largest trees, and sturdy. Its base was squared for about fifteen feet, until it widened into a balcony that extended around the entirety of the tower. The next stories were circular, ending in a flat-topped terrace at the very top. It was devoid of much adornment but had no lack of charm, mostly due to the greenery growing around it and spilling out over the balcony. It was unusual, but by no means a prison.

  So why then did he feel that she still needed to be rescued?

  IV.

  He came again a week later. And again a week after that. Though Nella would have denied it, she soon found herself looking forward to his calls, which had begun to take on a weekly consistency like Cornelius’s visits. And now that she found that she could expect him at regular, certain intervals, the idea of his presence caused her less discomfort. All they ever did was talk. He never seemed to ask for anything, or require anything of her. She still could not puzzle him out.

  “But why?” she asked, upon his fourth appearance. “Why do you keep coming? I am no pleasant company, I know.”

  “Because no one should live alone as you do. And I like your company.”

  “You cannot like my company,” Nella said with sour wisdom. “I am not young and beautiful; I am not charming and sparkling. I am dull, and angry, and—and—prosaic!”

  “You are intelligent and clever and unique. And if you are not young, then I am ancient.”

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  “You are also very beautiful,” he added without flirtation, as if he thought he should answer all of her self-depreciating claims.

>   “I’ll take none of your flattery.”

  “Well, you have not yet thrown me out of the tower,” Ben pointed out. “And I am flippant, oblivious, and arrogant.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Oh, how she wounds me!” He fell backwards dramatically on the couch.

  Nella wondered how it was that this man could make her smile. She shook away the amused look. “I have things to do. Even I must make a living, you know.” She began pulling bottles out of her cabinet in preparation for Cornelius’s visit tomorrow.

  “What do you do?” Ben asked with interest.

  “I manufacture cosmetics. When I was a child, my grandmother was the village midwife and herbalist. But her methods were not always orthodox.” A shadow passed over her face. “I prefer lotions and perfumes to medicines and poisons.”

  “Where do you go to sell your bottles?” he asked, as if it suddenly occurred to him that she’d have to leave her tower. Nella didn’t get a chance to answer.

  “Hello, Nella!” She heard Cornelius’s voice from outside and she quickly rose to her feet. Of course he’d come a day early today of all days! What would Cornelius think of her visitor? She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him knowing. He would not approve.

  “Who’s that?” Ben asked.

  “It’s Cornelius. He brings me my food and supplies.” She opened the door. “I’m here, Cornelius! I’ll just go get my basket.” She went back inside and poked Ben sharply in the chest. “You stay in here.”

  “All right.” He shrugged his shoulders and sat in a chair. Persephone, traitor that she was, pounced into his lap and began to purr as he pet her. Nella grabbed her empty basket for her supplies and went out onto the balcony. “Hello Cornelius!” She looked down but didn’t see him by his cart.

  “Cornelius?” Nella leaned over the balcony and realized that Cornelius had wandered off with a bemused expression and was examining a horse. Ben’s horse. By the tombs of Sainct-Maurice! She had forgotten about that.

  “Nella?” he asked in disbelief. “What is one of the palace horses doing by your tower?”

  Nella dropped the basket. “The palace! What do you mean, the palace?”

  “There’s a horse here with the seal of the crown on its saddle, in the royal colors. I’d know it anywhere.”

  She stared at him in confusion for one moment until horrific, sudden enlightenment came to her at once. She spun around and stomped back inside. “You! ‘Ben’ indeed! You’re Prince Benedict!”

  “Nella?” Cornelius called. “Are you all right? Is someone up there with you?”

  “What if I am?” The prince shrugged. “What possible difference does it make?”

  “You’re the one who sneaked into Count Robachi’s chambers to examine his playing cards.”

  “Yes, I did.” He seemed pleased that she’d heard. “I’m surprised you remember that. It was a long time ago. He was cheating at Bassetta. I was able to prove it.”

  “And you stole the casket containing the splinter of Saint Peter’s cross!”

  “Only because it was fake! They were charging poor peasants to see a scrap of wood. It was irreligious and conniving.”

  “You stole from an abbey! If anything is irreligious, that must be it! The nuns were furious!”

  “I was twelve!”

  “Nella?” Cornelius called again, his voice growing more concerned. Nella paused in indecision before stepping out onto the balcony.

  “The prince is here, Cornelius. I am afraid that he was most disappointed to find that I was not held captive by an evil witch as was supposed.”

  “Oh, Nella. I never thought you’d hear those rumors.”

  “I see the villagers at least have excluded me from their censure of my grandmother. I am a victim now, not an accomplice.”

  She heard Ben’s footsteps behind her.

  “Your highness.” Cornelius bowed at the sight of Benedict.

  “You must be Signor—”

  “Buonarroti,” Nella whispered quickly.

  “Buonarroti,” Ben continued smoothly. “Nella was just telling me about you.”

  Nella thought this was a bit of a stretch, but she felt as though Cornelius had just caught her in the middle of a lie, and said nothing.

  “She is a dear girl, Nella is.” Cornelius nodded at the prince. “Your highness will not mind if I send up her supplies?”

  “Of course not!”

  Benedict stood by as Cornelius silently handed up Nella’s supplies. Benedict moved in to help her carry the food back inside, and she tried not to look at him.

  “Do you need me for anything else, Nella?” Cornelius asked meaningfully, looking with distrust at the prince.

  “I am fine, Cornelius.” She smiled to put him at ease, though she felt anything comfortable. “I promise.”

  “Then I will see you in a week’s time!” Cornelius looked again at Benedict, shook his head bewilderedly, and left.

  Nella was alone with Benedict. Prince Benedict.

  She felt mortified. Back in the village, every girl had been in love with the heir to the Bellarminian throne. Worse was that Nella herself had not been immune to giggling and gossiping about the handsome teenage prince. At one time—before she and Nonna had become outcasts—she’d been among the girls of the village who would meet on washing day, where they’d share the stories they’d heard of the prince’s exploits. Now, all that Nella could think of as she looked at Ben were those times. Her face turned red.

  “You lied to me,” she said.

  “I omitted information.” He paused. “Which may be just as deplorable.”

  “Is that what you like about my company, then? Because I have no knowledge of your position? Because I do not treat you as a prince? Am I just a novelty for you?” She didn’t know why she was so furious—maybe it was because she had let him invade her world and know of her secret existence, and he had not the courtesy to even let her know of his true identity.

  “And am I a novelty for you?” he shot back. “Why do you put up with my company, I wonder? Is it because I am the only company available? For all your opinions of me, I do not flatter myself. You agreed to my visitations because I existed, not because you liked me. I choose to visit you because I like you!”

  It was the first time he had raised his voice, and it silenced Nella. “I do have a right to be angry,” she said finally after her momentary pause. She was still upset, but his words had reminded her of her own failings. “It was wrong of you to keep your identity from me.”

  “Perhaps it was. But could you of all people fault me for wanting some rare opportunity for privacy?” He grunted to himself and took his hat. “I need to go home.”

  “Will—will you come back?” Nella asked, her voice sounding small and childlike.

  His movements stopped, but he did not turn back to look at her. “Yes, if you wish it.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I will return.” He continued out of the door and neither of them said anymore until he had mounted his horse and begun to move away from the tower.

  “Benedict!” she called after him, using his full name for the first time. He turned to look at her, and her mouth felt dry. “I—I like your company, too. I thought you should know.”

  His face softened. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Might I have a word, Your Highness?”

  Benedict was usually observant of his surroundings, but the woods were dense and he did not expect to see Nella’s merchant friend around the bend on the wooded pathway.

  “Signor Buonarroti! I did not think to see you again so soon. But yes, of course you may speak.” He stopped his horse and leaned in the man’s direction.

  Cornelius looked torn between a fear of Benedict’s position and a great urge to say something.

  “Do not worry, Signor,” Benedict assured him. “I have no intention of executing anyone today. Speak freely.”

  “It is Nella. She is very dear to me, and I am fond of her.”
r />   “Ah. I see.” And indeed, Benedict did. “I won’t harm her in any way.”

  “You may not mean to,” Cornelius said. “But Nella has lived a very sheltered life in some respects, and that is one of them. She knows of the wickedness of people, and of betrayal and cruelty. But of men—of the workings of people’s hearts—”

  “I have no intention of such things, Signor. I like Nella, and I think she needs someone to talk to. A person could go mad, living alone as she does. I wish to convince her to leave her solitary confinement. That is all.”

  “So I have often said, my lord. Not of the madness, but of her need for others. But she will not leave.”

  “Perhaps one day I can persuade her.”

  Cornelius looked worried. “Perhaps it would be best not to, Your Highness.”

  “Why? Did you not say she needed to leave? Could she not be shown that there is a life worth living outside of a tower?”

  “Do not make the mistake of thinking you know her so well. She will not give up all of her secrets to you at once—and some she never shall. Do not press her in directions she does not wish to go.”

  Though Cornelius’ voice was threatening, Benedict was far from being offended. On the contrary, he was beginning to admire the man. “I will remember your wise words, Signor.” He tightened his hold on his reigns, preparing to leave.

  “Do you always have this need to act the savior, m’lord?” Cornelius asked.

  “Is that such a dreadful thing?” Benedict asked with an easy smile as he moved his horse ahead.

  “Perhaps not,” Cornelius called back in response. “But it would be wise to remember that though you may be a prince you are not a god, able to do whatever you please and bend others to your will, however well intentioned you may be.”

  It was more than a week before Benedict came by again, which did not surprise Nella now that she knew of his identity. She felt sure his visits to her were very low on his list of priorities.