The Queen's Companion

by Maggi Petton

  Catherine did not need to draw herself up, for she walked into the room at full height and regal stature. She stood at the head of the table and waited until all eyes were upon her. In what could only be regarded as an open act of defiance, Carfaggi waited until it was obvious that he could delay no longer. He finally raised his eyes to her. She was waiting for him; her look was frigid. She raised one eyebrow and nodded, leaving no question that she was not amused by his attitude.

  She began. “My Lords, Your Grace, I have learned much from the people of Pienza and Ribolla. And what I have learned is this; we are cowards. We have closed our eyes to the suffering we have allowed in the Kingdom of Montalcino. I don’t doubt that Inquisition tortures will continue. I am not so naïve as to think that the Church will abolish the Inquisition any time soon. But before any of us condone another torture on behalf of our Church, you will know what happens to the human body before you close your eyes and your ears to the evils of the torture chamber.” She paused to let her words sink in. She let the echo of what she said ring in their ears. And she waited.

  The tension turned to general discomfort. Some squirmed in their seats, others shuffled papers. Finally, Carfaggi broke the silence.

  “Majesty, are you suggesting that the Church should abolish the Inquisition?”

  “The Church will proceed as the Church sees fit,” she said curtly. “I do not seek to interfere in the teachings of the Catholic Church. But,” she bent forward and thumped her fisted hand on the table, “I will be damned if I will continue to allow my Church to force my government and my soldiers to torture my subjects so that Church leaders may live with a clear conscience!”

  Carfaggi’s nostrils flared. She saw him shoot a look at the Bishop that said, “You had better control your queen.”

  “Majesty,” the Bishop sputtered and protested. “You cannot be serious about this. Surely you realize that this action pits you against the Church.”

  “The Church declared this war hundreds of years ago, Your Grace. And we have all allowed the war to continue….why? Because we believe this is what Christ wanted?” She thought that when this time came she would be frightened. She felt stronger than she had in some time. She was angry, and she made no attempt to hide her anger. “You, more than anyone in this room, should know that Christ’s message was one of love. This is not love! Come with me, gentlemen. I have arranged a little tour for you.” She turned and started for the door.

  “I will not accompany you in this folly, Majesty!” Lord Carfaggi stood, a look of defiance and horror on his hateful face.

  She stopped and turned around very slowly to look at him. “I am not surprised, Lord Carfaggi. It is all well and good to give the dirty, bloody, work to others, is it? I didn’t think you had the stomach to come with me.” She looked around at her Privy Council. “Gentlemen, this is not a request. I intend my Council to know what tortures are being inflicted on the people of Montalcino. I do not make this command lightly. What you will see is not for the faint of heart. It will change you. We have lived our aristocratic lives above the sounds and sights of the torture chamber.” She walked back toward them. “Oh, we know some of what happens there. We have been present during some of the executions. But we have lived our privileged lives pretending that the tortures and executions have nothing to do with us. Well, they have everything to do with us and I will no longer sit idly by while the people of Montalcino suffer. Nor will my Privy Council!”

  No one moved. She waited for the impact of what she said to register. On the slim chance that they did not fully understand what she said, she decided to make perfectly clear her intentions.

  “Captain Robert will take us to the chamber. I expect the whole of my Council to accompany me. You may refuse, if you like, Lord Carfaggi, but from this moment forward, the council is comprised only of those who accompany me now.” Catherine turned and did not look back. She didn’t know if Carfaggi followed, or, for that matter, if any of them followed her. Robert strode slightly behind her and on her right side. Together they led the way to the torture chamber. She knew what to expect as she and Robert both toured the chamber the previous day. While the variety and numbers of instruments were less than the larger chamber at Ribolla, she hoped the effect would be the same.

  As they walked the long narrow hallway past the Great Hall through the courtyard and into the west wing of the castle, she wondered who was following. Her pace was quick, her back erect and she didn’t give any indication that she was in the least bit afraid. Though her heart was racing and her hands were trembling, she wanted to give the message that she didn’t care whether they followed her or not.

  She was fairly certain that Carfaggi would come. He would not willingly give up his position of power over her threat. She was less certain about Navona and Romeo, as she perceived them as too tender to tolerate such cruelties. So it was with great surprise that she turned at the entrance to the chamber to see all of the Council present except Lord Bagglioni. She had not bargained on losing him.

  Captain Lorenzo met them at the entrance to the chamber. Robert had arranged for him to conduct the tour.

  Catherine took a deep breath.

  “Captain Lorenzo will describe everything you see,” Robert said. “I caution you, he will spare no details about how the human body responds to each device.”

  The Captain opened the door to the chamber. All the torches were lit. The Council filed into the room silently.

  Catherine watched the faces of the Council as each device was described. She watched as both Giovanni and Romeo paled. Lord Como, usually so outspoken, was silent. She saw he had broken into a sweat and looked for something solid to lean against. She hated to do this to them, but she could think of no other way to shock them out of their complacency. This was necessary, of that she was absolutely convinced. She knew that both the Bishop and Carfaggi would seek to find their revenge. But she refused to turn back. Her course was set.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Lord Carfaggi fumed at the Bishop. “How dare she! Who does she think she is to force us to that stinking hell hole?” They were in the Bishop’s quarters. The Bishop had called for a bottle of wine and dismissed the servant as soon as it was poured.

  He didn’t answer Carfaggi’s question, but thought to himself, “She thinks she is the queen, you pompous ass.”

  Thomas Capshaw was no more pleased about the turn of events than Carfaggi. This whole change put him more directly in the middle of the war between the Pope and the queen. Carfaggi, as the Pope’s own emissary, was certain to put him under even more pressure to rid them of this heretical queen. But the queen had his hands tied because of Robert’s discovery of him with the boy. He would have to figure out a way to satisfy both of them to save himself. His mind raced.

  Carfaggi was still raging, “Your future is at stake here, Capshaw. The Pope will know about your queen’s little episode before too long. What she has said is nothing short of blasphemy! She will burn for this!”

  “Lord Carfaggi, no one wants to see that woman burn more than I. But we must plan our strategy carefully.” He stopped and smiled, an evil smile. “I believe that I can give you…us…what we both want, to rid ourselves of this queen. I have a plan.”

  “Tell me.” Carfaggi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “What would be better than one of us accusing our queen of heresy?”

  “I do not care to play guessing games! Tell me what you have in mind.” Carfaggi was pacing.

  “You are aware that I have been looking for ways to create suspicion and accusation against our queen for some time. It is not easy. She is well protected.” He stood to pour himself a second cup of wine. “Even if I had succeeded in having her accused and convicted we might not have been any better off because there was no heir. Who knows into what hands this monarchy will fall.”

  The bishop took the bottle of wine over to Carfaggi, who waved him away.

  “Now there is an heir,” the bishop went on, “a
nd one whom we can mold.”

  Carfaggi was not impressed, “The child is young. I am ready to be rid of this queen now.”

  “As am I, Lord Carfaggi, but do you not see the beauty of waiting a bit?”

  “I don’t see the beauty in anything that delays ousting that bitch!” Carfaggi drew himself up and folded his arms over his chest. He looked down his pointed nose at the Bishop.

  “Not even,” the Bishop lowered his voice and raised his eyebrows, “if it is her own daughter who accuses her of heresy and brings about the queen’s death?”

  “How long?” Carfaggi asked after a thoughtful pause.

  “As soon as the child is old enough to appreciate having attention lavished upon her. I will make her dependent upon me and the doctrines of the Church. I will subtly implicate her mother, and that companion of hers, so that she will begin to draw her own conclusions about her mother’s heresy. Do you not see how perfect a plan this is? Then we will help her to rule the kingdom of Montalcino with the iron fist of the papacy.”

  “What of her father, the King?” Carfaggi remained unconvinced.

  “He adores the child. I don’t think he will be a problem as long as he believes that I have the child’s best interests at heart.”

  “I am leaving for Rome in a few months, Capshaw. I will share your plan with the Pope. If he approves, then so be it. If he doesn’t…well, we will have to see. I am more inclined to move quickly. Her persistence in traveling around the kingdom makes me uncomfortable. She continues to endear herself to her subjects. And our ability to monitor her activities weakens when she is gone from the castle.”

  Weeks passed without further incidence on the Council. Catherine was still pondering whether or not to replace Lord Bagglioni. She spoke with him after his refusal to accompany the group to the torture chamber. All he said was, “I am old and tired, Your Majesty. I have seen enough pain in my life. I do not wish to see more.”

  The Council, of course, wanted a replacement. She knew the Bishop and Carfaggi had someone in mind, but even they must know she would resist whomever they recommended. Then, one evening at dinner in the Great Hall Ambrose brought up the topic of the empty Privy Council seat.

  “Do you have it in mind to replace Lord Bagglione?”

  “I haven’t yet decided. I rather like the fact that we are down again to seven members. An uneven number prevents me from having to break ties when votes are taken.”

  “I see your point.” Ambrose cut into a juicy piece of roasted quail. “You do know that the Bishop and Lord Carfaggi have someone in mind.”

  “That’s no surprise. Are they pressuring you to convince me on anyone in particular?”

  “That should also come as no surprise. Yes, they are, but I think they are more interested in whom you might want.”

  “I suspect I already know the men they would like. It will never happen. I would rather keep things as they are,” Catherine said as she sipped her wine.

  When she finished eating he said, “Sofia is two now. I don’t think it too early to bring her to Mass.”

  Catherine looked at him quizzically. “She is young yet. I believe we can wait a while longer.” In spite of her calm demeanor, she was disturbed by his suggestion.

  “Bishop Capshaw has raised the issue with me. He believes it is important for the child to become comfortable in the church,” said Ambrose.

  “She is two. She is comfortable anywhere she is.” Catherine did not want to create acrimony between Ambrose and the Bishop, but it frightened her that the Bishop was pressing so soon.

  “I tend to agree, but the Bishop is rather insistent on the matter,” Ambrose seemed uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with her.

  Catherine sighed. “Let me have tonight to think about it, then. Come to my office in the morning and let’s discuss it further.” She wanted to talk with Bella before making a decision.

  “Fine,” he said with relief evident on his face.

  The next morning when Ambrose arrived at her office he was carrying a wrapped package, tied with a ribbon. He had a nervous smile on his face as he approached her desk. She came around and indicated the chair next to her.

  As he sat he said, almost shyly, “I…have something for you.” He held out the package.

  Catherine was quite taken aback. “A gift? What is the occasion?”

  “No occasion. I just want you to have it.”

  She reached out to accept the package. The ribbon alone was beautiful; soft yellow, and wide. The gift took up all of her lap and was wrapped in a piece of muslin cloth. As she uncovered the cloth she exclaimed, “Oh, Ambrose!”

  Catherine held the oil painting up to admire. It was a remarkable likeness of Sofia. She was not only touched, but very impressed.

  “You,” she turned to look Ambrose squarely in the eyes, “are a gifted artist. I am so glad you have started painting again. You captured her innocence and her obstinacy, both!”

  His head lowered as he blushed. Then he looked up at her with a shy grin. “I never thanked you for the gifts. I am glad you like it.”

  “I love it. Thank you.” She bent to kiss his cheek. “Sofia is fortunate to have you for a father.”

  She set the painting on her desk, determined to find a good place to hang it, and turned back to him.

  “About the Bishop…and Sofia attending Mass. You seemed uncomfortable when you raised the subject last night. What is it that bothers you?”

  “I wish I could say.” Ambrose turned in the chair and crossed his legs. “There was something that didn’t feel quite right. Perhaps I am reading too much into his request, but I did sense that he had another reason. I just can’t tell if the reason is related to you, or Sofia.”

  “Knowing the Bishop,” Catherine offered carefully, “it may be both.” She strode over to a shelf that contained many books and maps and ran her hand across some of the books as she thought. “Your instincts are probably correct, so perhaps we might err on caution’s side. Do you see any harm letting her attend the Mass?”

  He reached up and scratched at his beard. “Not really, and she would be with both of us, me when you are gone.”

  “It’s enough His Grace detests me. He came to you for a reason. I see no reason to refuse his request if you don’t.”

  Ambrose sighed deeply and his whole body relaxed.

  Catherine smiled at his obvious relief. “When I am in residence, then, we can bring her to mass if he feels that strongly about it. We don’t want to anger the Bishop over such a trivial issue.” Catherine did not like that the Bishop seemed to be setting his sights on her daughter so soon. She had expected that he would attempt to sway the Princess at some point, but was distressed that he would attempt such a pointless position this early.

  On Sunday, Catherine, Ambrose and Sofia attended Mass.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  “Your Highness,” the bishop said as Ambrose entered the Privy Council meeting, “I was happy to see you were able to convince Her Majesty to bring the child to Mass on Sunday.”

  Ambrose sat at the head of the table. Catherine was not feeling well and asked Ambrose to preside over the meeting.

  “I would guess the queen was quite resistive to bringing the child,” sniffed Lord Carfaggi.

  “It wasn’t a problem,” Ambrose said.

  “Well,” Carfaggi continued with an irritated look, “have you found with whom she intends to replace Bagglione?”

  “She has not yet decided.”

  “Well, has she given any indication she is even thinking on the matter?” Carfaggi pressed.

  “I am afraid I have no information for you, Lord Carfaggi. The answer, again, is no.”

  “Perhaps,” Bishop Capshaw interjected, “the king is not yet comfortable sharing information with the council.” He paused, waiting for Ambrose to look at him. “Or, perhaps the queen doesn’t trust him enough to tell him anything.”

  Carfaggi picked up where the Bishop left off. “I
should hope, Your Grace, that the king has enough wisdom to know when to share things with the Privy Council. After all, it is Montalcino that must be served by this group, and not Her Highness.”

  Ambrose got up and went to pour himself some water, trying to hide his discomfort at the attack. His brain worked to think of something to say that would not seem defensive or foolish. When he returned to the table, Lord Giovanni requested the council turn to more pressing topics.

  Summer was over before most in the kingdom were ready to let go of the long, warm days. Autumn charged in with full glory. October was near. It was time to prepare for the Chestnut Festival. The castle was surrounded by chestnut trees. For more winters than Catherine cared to remember, the meaty nuts provided the only protein for the residents of Montalcino. Without the chestnut, many would have starved when the snows piled so high that there was no way to hunt and the food reserves depleted.

  It always amazed her how many different ways they could find to use chestnuts. Quite apart from roasting them, many creative recipes were invented—from soup to stuffing. Catherine was especially fond of breads and muffins made from ground chestnut flour.

  The annual Chestnut Festival symbolized the strength and character of her people in a way that made Catherine especially proud. The festival incorporated music, dancing, food, wine, contests and games. In particular, she enjoyed watching the children scatter among the giant trees as they vied to see who could catch the most falling chestnuts. The child to catch the most won a prize, but it was their laughter and pure enjoyment of running and trying to avoid being hit by dropping nuts that offered the most amusement to the onlookers.

  Catherine also loved Castiglione d’ Orcia in the fall. The ride through the foothills was easy and she loved skirting around the shadow of the Apennines during the change of season.

  When they arrived at the little church in Castiglione d’ Orcia, Father Tim was talking to someone near the altar. Robert had entered first, to make sure it was safe for Catherine. He stopped when he saw the stranger.