Infinite Devotion (10 page)

“Oh, fantastic!” I pretend. Little did he know Cesare had shown me every type of hunter and prey, from hawks to prisoners. “Miraculous animals!” I clap.

When they recover the leopards, Alfonso shouts, “Release the wolf!”

A skittish black and grey wolf is set free in the clearing, and Alfonso follows, “Release the dogs!”

I look away as five large and fierce hunting dogs are let out, and hear the struggle. When the cries die down, I open my eyes again and see the wolf lying dead in the grass and the dogs running back to their grinning master. Even though the dogs’ faces are covered in blood, Alfonso lets them all jump on him and lick his face. It’s so hard to keep smiling.

Men and their sadistic pleasures.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

When we return, I walk into my dressing room and collapse on the chair, thankful I’m alone, until disrupted by a timid knock.

I open the door quickly to a young man, all in tawny leather with a flapping hooded falcon on his thick-gloved hand.

“Lady d’Este.” He bows awkwardly. “This falcon’s still jumpy yet.” He tries to calm her with a thinner-gloved hand and steps in without my offer to enter, but bows his head respectfully again. “Lady, the Master d’Este sent for me to train this peregrine as your personal gaming bird.”

I blink at the beautiful statuesque creature held high on his strong arm.

He mistakes my hesitation, and with a flush, removes his light cap and takes it in a hasty bunch to his chest. “I beg your pardon, lady, I should have introduced myself. Niccolo, at your service.” His pointed ears protrude from his scraggly hair, giving him an elfish look.

“Thank you, Niccolo. I’m just overwhelmed with this gracious gift. He’s a magnificent specimen.”

Niccolo beams. “She. I climbed and took her from the nest myself.”

“What do I do with her, though?” I try to walk toward her, but she senses my approach and begins flapping again frantically.

“Why don’t we start out on the balcony?” He heads toward the open narrow doors and leans on the stone wall.

I stand at a distance as he grips her tethers tight and removes the hood. She cries meekly as she futilely flaps and tries to pull her steel claws free. I gasp when I see that her large eyes are half-sewn shut.

“What has happened to her eyes?”

“That is part of her training‌—‌was fully sealed up until a week ago. I’ve had her in the dark for months. She’s just getting used to her sight again.”

“Why would you restrict her sight?”

“She would never relax enough to get used to my handling. I seal her up and carry her in a nice quiet place until she calms. Then I remove half the stitches and calm her all over again. She’s ready now to begin to get used to you.” He pulls out a glove from the pouch at his side.

My small hand disappears inside the stiffest leather I’d ever put on‌—‌like putting on a giant’s petrified hand. Niccolo makes a motion for me to lift my arm, a challenge due to the heaviness.

He gathers the tethers in one hand. “Hold on tight to these or else we’d never get Fia back.”

“Fia,” I repeat softly to her.

I grab the tethers as tight as I can in the unyielding glove, and the bird’s weight makes me drop my hand on top of the wall for support. Niccolo steadies the bird immediately, and the bird blinks its already squinted eyes. Once he feels I’ve secured her, he brings out a small pair of shears and slowly cuts the last stitches and pulls each one out. She stretches her eyes wide with forgotten freedom, and I drift into her golden bright eyes, eyes that seem to see far more than humans give them credit for.

“Now let her feel your control, and show her that you’re her mistress.”

I nod partially and stare at the buckles on her tethers, the supple leather suffocating her mighty talons; stone-like talons hurting my forearm even through the hardened glove. The sleek curves of her beak lead to a glorious dagger, which opens with a sweet little peep. Her feathers all lay silken like a fur painted by a master.

“Will we be letting her fly today?”

He shakes his head and leans his elbows on the ledge. “No, she won’t fly for some time. I’ll come daily and let you carry her out here until she adjusts to you. Only when she’s completely accepted your control will we let her out on a long leash.”

I don’t want to be anyone’s captor.

“Niccolo, I feel a chill in the air. Will you be so kind to fetch my maid to bring me my favorite cape?”

He bows his head immediately and reaches his arm out to take the falcon back, but I put my free hand up to stop him. “I have a secure hold.”

He nods again and leaves the balcony on light feet. I watch her beak carefully as I slowly reach my other hand to release the buckle. She doesn’t even notice the freedom, allowing me to quickly undo the other one. Fia studies me and turns her head so that each eye can look through me. Each one has the faintest spark, the dwindling soul-fire yet to be extinguished.

“Go!” I flip my free hand slightly, but she only hops up my arm.

“Go!” I shout. “Be free!”

This time the bird hops into the air, reaches up its suddenly powerful wings, and flies off to the lush forest surrounding the palace. A tight smile brings with it tears, as I wish it could always be this easy. Niccolo closes the door to my suite, and I quickly wipe the shallow tears away. His face falls once he sees the flaccid tethers hanging in my glove.

“How—” But he can’t find any respectful words, so he chews on his lower lip and turns to search the sky behind him.

“I saw that the tethers seemed too tight, and I only went to loosen them—”

He spins around again and stares out to a small spot disappearing by the seconds.

“Won’t she come back?” I pretend.

“She is gone completely.” He lets out a hot breath and pulls all his restraint to force a humble bow. “You must excuse me, lady.”

I hold back a smile and nod, then look back into the spotless sky. My maid rushes out with my cloak, and I shake off the glove with the tethers.

“What shall I do with these?” she asks.

I drape the cloak on and brush the whole last hour away with my arm.

“I’m so sick of tethered things.”

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

My maid informs me that I have to dress for a ball that night‌—‌the last thing I want to do. I know from the signs I’m at least two months pregnant, and I feel like sleeping all day. I have to wear one of my finest dresses. It’s become an unspoken competition between Isabella and me to be told we’re the most beautiful in the room. I dress in the blue gown I married Alfonso of Aragon in, and I go down late, after most of the guests are already in the ballroom. I peer in from behind the lush gold velvet curtains with red silk pom-pom trim and see Isabella in a new purple silk dress. She looks heavenly, and I know she has found a more beautiful dress than mine. I have an idea. I take the silver-jeweled lit candelabrum and sweep into the room at the end of the song. All eyes gaze upon me, and I can tell I’m illuminated in the dim room. Everyone turns and gasps at my glowing golden hair and sparkling pearls and rubies in the crown in my hair.

I see Isabella’s face as a horde of men make their way to me, trying to engage me in conversation, and it’s priceless. After a dozen dances with the many handsome poets and painters invited to Isabella’s event, we sit down to dinner. Alfonso’s nowhere to be seen, and I’m just as glad not to have to witness him sitting there in pain all night. Isabella’s two seats away from me, but she speaks loudly for my benefit.

“Cesare Borgia is a snake. He has crawled in on his belly to sink his teeth into the Duke of Urbino and taken his dukedom.”

I say nothing, which provokes her further.

“Lady Lucrezia Borgia”—she never calls me Lucrezia d’Este—“you stayed with my kind cousin in Urbino on your way to us, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and the duke and his family were very kind to me and my envoy.”

She turns back to her guests. “And her brother, Valentino, repays him with such brutality.”

A man states, “Valentino’s on his way to conquering Romagna. Everyone is vulnerable to his grasp. Whatever he sets his sights on, he conquers.”

A twinge of pride runs through me that Cesare has the country shaking under his thumb.

“I guess we should find some benefit to keeping Dona Borgia in Ferrara,” she throws at me.

The gentleman next to me, with whom I’ve been pleasantly conversing, snaps back, “I can count many, many more reasons to benefit,” and he kisses my hand.

“Oh, if you’re referring to her beauty, you should see how long it takes her to get that way. I grow tired of waiting for her each morning. I, on the other hand, practically wake up this way.”

The man next to her brings us back to Cesare. “I heard that the duke took the right hand and part of a man’s tongue off for spreading scandalous rumors about him!”

“I can just imagine what
scandalous
rumors
he was spreading.” Her eyes flash at me.

“Imagine what he’d do if he heard someone spreading rumors about me?” I flash back.

She gets the message and changes the subject immediately. I’m glad to have such protection.

Once back to my room, my maids are quickly removing all my articles, when one of them gasps while closing the balcony doors.

“What is it?” I ask as I step out of my gown.

“It’s a large bird, lady!”

I rush over in my underclothes, and there Fia is, standing resolute on the stone wall. I shoo the maids back and slowly open the doors, expecting her to fly away at any moment. But she stays, and I tiptoe to the other side of the balcony and pretend not to notice her. Slowly, she hops into my peripheral vision, and my heart races when she stands right beside my arm. We stand there together until the cold becomes unbearable, and once I move, she hops back to the other wall.

The next morning, and every morning after, she is there. I save some of the meat from my breakfast, and she slowly begins to take it from my hand. By the end of the week, she even lets me touch her. After our morning hellos, she flies off again into her forest and returns again faithfully at dusk.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

I awake one morning drenched in sweat and wake Alfonso from his snoring to fetch the doctor. There’s a fever epidemic spreading through Ferrara, and I fear I have come down with it in my seventh month of pregnancy. I’m burning and shivering and start having severe spasms by nightfall. Alfonso never leaves my side. He sleeps near me and feeds me when my fever lowers. I’m surprised by his attachment and worry. Father and Cesare both send their best doctors when they receive word of my condition. Father takes this opportunity to guilt Ercole into granting two thousand more in my allowance, saying it’s the stress from not paying my debts that caused my fever. It works. I’m immediately brought up to the price my father originally fought for. Although my fever continues. Cesare sneaks in to see me on his way to visit the French king in secret, and he wears a disguise of a knight of St. John. He walks in and immediately kneels at my bed and throws his arms around me. I don’t even recognize him until he takes his armor off.

“Sister, it’s Cesare, be calm. I’m frantic to see you, and I’m glad you don’t seem as ill as I’ve been told.”

“I think I may be improving.” I try to sit up straighter. “I haven’t had a fit all day.”

“Well, that’s good news, and I brought some cheer of my own to lift your spirits.” He starts removing his gloves. “Camerino is yielding,” he says with a smile.

“I hope I live to see you King of Romagna.”

“You must, for certain. I love you more than I love myself.”

I wonder if that’s true. He stays for hours, and by the time we kiss our good-byes, I feel I’ve rebounded. But again by nightfall, my fever rises, causing me great convulsions. One particularly terrible convulsion sends my back arching, and a great pain tears down my abdomen. I scream, sure that I’m dying, but something warm and large slips out between my legs. I begin crying and motion for the doctor to see to what is born far too early. I clench my eyes, hoping to hear a cry, but none comes. I go quickly into delirium, where I have no memory.

Cesare comes rushing back to my side, cutting short his meeting with the king, and is there when I open my eyes again.

“They told me you were dying,” he says, holding my hand.

“I still might yet.” I laugh but feel it could be true.

The doctor comes in and says, “She needs to be bled, sir.”

I panic. “No I don’t want to be bled.” I remember doctors who performed it on me before.

He speaks to Cesare. “We fear she will perish without a bleeding.”

Cesare rubs my hand. “I’ll help you through it. You are strong.”

The doctor readies to slash across my forearm, and Cesare grabs my foot and pinches it hard. While I’m yelling at Cesare for doing so, the doctor makes his cut, and thanks to Cesare, I hardly register it.

He then rubs my swollen foot soothingly as the blood runs out of my arm and into the bowl it’s resting on.

“Do you know that Isabella wrote to me a few days ago?”

“If you are trying to distract me, it’s working.” I laugh.

“The plump shrew sent me a glowing letter of great praise of my and the valor of my troops at Camerino. She sent with her messenger one hundred carnival masks for us to enjoy ourselves at carnival time.”

“Why do you think she’s doing that? A month ago, she was spitting venom with your name.”

“Well, now that I’m seizing all of these kingdoms, suddenly my two-year-old daughter Luisa is very attractive to her two-year-old son.”

“Never do so. Any spawn of hers will be torture for sweet little Luisa.”

The next day, I’m much improved, and Cesare comes in to say good-bye.

“You come in and out of my life like a bird in a nest. It would be so nice to stay with you longer.”

“Illustrious but sickly sister, I have to go and conquer the world.” He puts his hat back on, laughing. We say our good-byes and give our kisses, and I watch him walk out regally. Even though he’s done me great harm indirectly, he always shows me great love. I miss him like I’ve never missed him before.

After I recuperate, I’m told it was a girl. She was buried when I was still delirious. Father sends a messenger, saying: