Bonas deep-set eyes were fast shut, her dimpled hands clasped, her lips moving silently. Her features were pinched but set; one who did not suspect her personal agony would think she was simply earnest at prayer.
Caterina did not kneel, but unabashedly pressed her ear against the door adjacent to the dukes dressing room; she did not test it, for she knew that it would be bolted from the other side. When Caterina was still quite young, but old enough to suspect what was happening, Bona had tried to send her to her quarters for the duration. The girl disobeyed and kept escaping to the mens wing in an effort to catch a glimpse of her father in flagrante. She was stronger, faster, and far cleverer than her nurses, with the result that Bona finally acknowledged the dukes trangressions and brought Caterina with her to the chapel, insisting that the girl should pray for her father. But Caterina refused to waste her time.
If it is wrong of my father to do such a thing, she asked reasonably, then why does no one stop him?
Bona, devoted to God but no philosopher, had no answer. She soon despaired of trying to influence Caterina for the good, as the girl was obviously as stubborn as her father and most likely just as inclined to wickedness.
I, on the other hand, was desperately beholden to the duchess and eager to please her. My parents had no doubt been so horribly damnedmy mother perhaps a shamed woman, my father perhaps too wicked to care for his own childrenthat Bona, unshakable in the face of evil, had never been able to bring herself to say much about them. I feared that whatever had driven them to unspeakable sin had infected me, and so I embraced the duchesss assiduous instruction concerning religion.
God is loving, Bona always said, but also just. And though you might not see results at once, He surely hears the prayers of the meek. Pray for justice, Dea, and in good time it will come; and pray for yourself, that you might be wise enough to love sinners while abhorring their deeds.
For Bonas sake, I believed it all, prayed often and sincerely, and waited on God to reward the faithful and punish the wicked. The duke was all-powerful, his bodyguards cunningly armed and ready to deal death to those who interfered with their masters pleasure; what else could I, a mere seventeen-year-old woman, do other than pray and offer Bona my comfort and companionship?
Yet when it came to sinners who relished cruelty, such as the duke and his coldhearted pet, Caterina, I could not match Bonas saintliness. My heart held hate, not love. And so, as I began to mouth silent prayers beside the duchess, I asked God not for patience or for charity, but for vengeance, of a swifter sort than He was accustomed to meting out.
In my minds eye I pictured not the dying Christ or the Holy Mother, but the duke, who had invited the current silence by holding out his hand to the girl and speaking gently, quickly, as if soothing a frightened beast. He was telling her that all the stories about him were lies, that he was in fact a kindly man who wished her no harm.
And shefifteen years old at most, lovely, unmarried, and a virgin from a decent familywas crazed with fear and desperate to believe him.
I yearned to be a man, one with a sword and the access to His Grace Duke Galeazzo. I pictured myself stealing up behind him as he murmured to the girl, and ending his crime with one short, swift, avenging thrust of my blade. Instead, I had only the opportunity to whisper one Our Father and two Ave Marias before Caterina, her expression one of fascination, hissed, They are moving into his bedchamber now.
The screaming began again, this time wordless, outraged, animal. I clasped my hands until they ached and tried desperately to quash my imagination. From behind the altar wall came muffled thumpingbodies or limbs striking walls, perhapsand the tinkling of glass. Beneath it all was the very faint, vicious sound of male laughter.
Holy Mother, take pity upon her. Lord, let the duke taste justice.
Why do you not help her? Caterina demanded. There was no concern or frustration in her tone, only a dogged insistence. He is hurting her, after all. Surely God does not mean for you to stand idly by.
Without lifting her head, Bona replied, We are only women, and far frailer than men. Should they not come to our aid, we can rely only on the goodness of God.
A corner of Caterinas lip twitched in disgust. Only a coward waits on God.
Angered by the attack on Bona, I jerked my face toward Caterinas. If that is so, Madonna, then why do you not stop your father? Youre his favorite; persuade him. Save him from sin and protect the lady.
Without lifting her ear from the door, Caterina stuck out her tongue at me; still at prayer, Bona did not see.
You all speak nonsense, Caterina said. First you say that my father sins. Then you say that God chose my father to rule, so his will must be respected. Well, its his will to lie with pretty young women. So where is the sin? And if it is sin, then why would God have such bad judgment as to anoint my father duke?
Bona did not open her eyes, but behind her veil, a fat tear spilled from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. It was not her way to question God or her husband. If you will not pray for your father, she said, her voice husky and uneven with sorrow, then at least pray for the girl.
The fact is, Caterina countered, a duke can do whatever he pleases.
She began to say more, but her words were drowned out by a mans shouts coming from the direction of the chamber of rabbits: Duca! Duca! Your Grace! His rasping, nasal voice was soon joined by others, and grew muffled by the sounds of scuffling.
Intrigued, Caterina hurried into the hall to learn the source of the noise. Within a minute, she retreated back into the chapel in a fright, and dropped to her knees at the altar on the far side of Bona.
Boot heels rang against the loggias stone floor; soon a trio of cloaked men armed with drawn short swords stood in the chapel archway. One of them, of powerful shoulders and good height, stepped inside. Upon seeing the interior door leading to the dukes suite, he rattled the handle, found it locked, then nodded to the other two, who began in turn to throw themselves at the door to break it down.
Ashamed, Bona turned her face from them.
Meanwhile, the first manwith straight dark brown hair, parted down the middle and falling a few fingers shy of his shouldersbowed low to us, then straightened and said, Good ladies. My deepest apologies for disturbing you at prayer and disrupting the peace in Gods chamber, but one of your fair sex is in danger. I beg your forbearance while we work to bring this matter to a happy end.
His dialect was Tuscan, and his diction revealed an education reserved for the highest born, yet his voice was peculiarly nasal. He was in his twenties or thirties, but it was difficult to judge, for his face was remarkably strange. His jaw was very square, and his chin jutted far forward; he had a noticeable underbite and when he spoke, his lower lip stuck out while his upper disappeared. This would not have seemed so unfortunate had it not been combined with his huge nose, which was flat at the bridge where it met the inner corners of his eyebrows, then rose and swooped alarmingly off to one side; it had an unusually long, sloping tip. It made me think of a clay likeness that had waited too long for the kiln and begun to droop. He might have looked foolish or unforgivably ugly had it not been for the rare intelligence in his eyes and his unselfconscious, confident grace.
I stood, curtsied reluctantly, and said, with as much contained fury as I dared show a noble, You have disturbed my mistress at prayer, my lord. And you have violated the sanctity of the chapel.
I looked pointedly at his two companions, gasping after their few failed attempts to break down the door. Like him, they were dressed in new winter cloaks trimmed with brown marten fur at the collars and sleeves.
I am no lord, he replied, clearly troubled by the fact that the screams had turned ominously to muffled groans. Only a commoner trying to help in an emergency. I beg your forgiveness in what surely must be a difficult time for you all. But can no one else in this palace hear that the lady needs help?
Bona bowed her head low, still too mortified to speak; Caterina stayed on her knees but peered past Bona at the speaker, clearly eager to see where this unexpected development would lead. Before the man could say more, a low wail emanated from a distant room behind the door, followed by wracking sobs.
The self-professed commoners strong, homely faced twisted with pity at the sound; pushing aside his fellows, he threw his shoulder against the door with all his force. The thick, solid wood did not so much as tremble at the blow. Rather than leave in frustration, the commoner knocked the wood with the hilt of his short sword.
Your Grace! Good Your Grace! he called, his tone playfully cajoling. It is I, your secret guest, freshly arrived to enjoy your legendary hospitality. Let me repay it in small part now by offering the young lady an escort home. And when no reply came, he added cheerfully, I am determined, Your Grace; I shall wait at this door, and my fellows at the other, until we have her.
With that, he turned to his men and gestured in the direction of the chamber of rabbits; they understood and left at once, while the so-called commoner remained, his ear to the door.
A long moment passed, during which Bona found her composure. She then crossed herself, rose, and turned to the man; at her side, Caterina rose as well, and watched with unselfconscious fascination.
Your Magnificence, Bona said softly, slowly, as always in control, though I knew her heart was breaking. My lord the duke informed me to prepare for a guests arrival, but he did not tell me that it was you. I fear I cannot greet you properly at this time, given the unpleasant circumstance.
He squinted hard at her and took a slow step toward her, frowning, until his eyes suddenly widened and his jaw dropped.
Your Grace! he exclaimed softly, his voice hushed with embarrassment; his cheeks reddened. Oh, my lady Duchess! He bowed deeply from the shoulders, and remained in that position as he spoke. I cannot I would never have Your Grace, I beg forgiveness for my cruel thoughtlessness! My judgment has failed me once again. Had I recognized you, I would have been far more discreet.
I applauded his desire to save the distressed lady, but could not forgive the humiliation he had just inflicted on Bona; my temper took abrupt control of my tongue. How could you not recognize the duchess, good sir, when she stands directly before you? A poor excuse for such rudeness!
Bona moved to me and caught my elbow. Dea, she said, her voice very low. His sight is poor. Now you, too, must apologize.
Behind us, Caterina giggled. Tongue-tied, I looked back at His Magnificence, and he looked back at me.
Dea, he said, with faint surprise, and in his eyes curiosity dawned. He uttered my name as if it were a familiar one.
Before he could say more, we all turned at the sound of footsteps approaching the door leading to the dukes dressing chamber, and the squeal of the bolt being drawn. The door opened a crack; His Magnificence inclined his ear to it, and listened to whispered instructions from one of the dukes valets. He gave a sharp nod to show he had understood, and the door closed again.
His Magnificence turned to Bona and bowed to take his leave. Your Grace, my apologies once more. When we meet tomorrow, I will greet you as you deserve and do my best to make full reparation.
When we meet tomorrow, or any other day, dear Lorenzo, Bona said softly, we shall not speak of this.
Agreed, he answered, then nodded to Caterina and last of all, me. Ladies, he said briskly, and was gone; I listened to his ringing steps as he made his way down the loggia toward the chamber of rabbits.
Like everyone else in Italy, I had heard tales about Lorenzo the Magnificent. At the tender age of twenty, he had become the de facto ruler of Florence upon his fathers death. I had glimpsed him only once, in 1469, when I was nine and had been living in Bonas household only a year. Along with four other prominent rulers in Milans great Duomo, Lorenzo de Medici stood as godfather at Gian Galeazzos christening. Unlike us lesser mortals, Lorenzo possessed such intelligence, confidence, and charm that he could speak bluntly to Duke Galeazzo without provoking his wrath, and the duke, who routinely abused his family, courtiers, servants, and peers, treated Lorenzo with respect.
Once Lorenzo had left the chapel, Bona turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears. God surely answered our prayers, sending him to help the lady . . . and to teach me humility.
Surely, I gently agreed, though I did not believe for an instant that Bona had any pride left after eight years of marriage to Galeazzo Sforza. But I was grateful for Lorenzos attempt to intervene.
Take Caterina with you, Bona ordered, and make sure she gets to her quarters and stays there. Youre free to do as you wish until I summon you again.
I will deliver her to her nurse, then return, if you like, I said softly. I could see the duchess was in need of comfort. It is a hard thing to accept that ones husband is a monster, and harder still to endure that monstrousness in polite company.
Her gaze averted, Bona shook her head, and I suddenly understood: Lorenzos appearance had so shamed my mistress that she was no longer able to control her tears. As I herded Caterina out, Bona knelt again at the altar railing, pausing before she returned to her prayers to call: Please close the door behind you.
I did, leaving her to weep in private.
Caterina broke away from me the instant we were out in the loggia; she turned toward the mens wing and, cursing her full womans skirts, lifted them high and half ran in the direction of the chamber of rabbits. I was taller, with a longer stride, and easily caught her by the elbow.
She tried to shake free, but I held fast, wheeled her about, and dragged her with me toward the womens wing.
Bitch! she snapped. Ill tell my father!
That I am following the duchesss orders? I paused. What would your father say, were he to see you waiting in the chamber of rabbits?
She said nothing, but accompanied me, sourly, back down the loggia toward Bonas chambers, where servants had managed to clear out the smoke and close the windows, though the smell of burnt wool and nuts lingered. Next to it was little Gian Galeazzos and Ermess quarters in the northeast corner, and just past them was the northernmost room in the ladies wing, the pink chamber, so named because its walls were covered in rose moiré silk. It served as nursery to Bonas daughters, five-month-old Anna and four-year-old Bianca Maria, who had already been married off to her first cousin, Philibert, Duke of Savoy. Just past it was Caterinas room. I deposited her there and informed her nurse of Bonas order, knowing all the while that the dukes headstrong daughter would likely dash off the instant I had left.