Beyond the Raging Flames (The Hermeporta Book 2) Page 33

  Dondo gave a sheepish shrug of acknowledgement, his memories still fresh with the recent beating. Yet in his heart he could not condemn Illawara: she was too truthful. Grizelda began to enjoy her fluency again in Illawara’s absence, her wit restored. She made an example of Dondo. ‘Our neighbours called him plum face - so purple with bruises she left him.’ He coughed, but the maid managed to capture Antonio’s attention with her colourful retelling of events. Bianca, already feeling the loss of Illawara, allowed thoughts of her to return. She had fallen victim to Illawara’s tongue herself and had raised her hand against it, but she had found her directness refreshing, her beauty dazzling, and the status she brought liberating. Bianca felt compelled to speak.

  ‘Grizelda, all that you've said on this about her is true. She's a spirited and wilful girl that doesn't know her own strength. But she's neither cold nor wicked. How could the Inquisitor have spoken against her with the charge of witchcraft?' she said in genuine confusion. Hermes eyeballed the maid who tried to ignore his look. Antonio glanced at her for a moment, before he cast his mind over the past and his frustrations at getting satisfactory answers from Illawara - answers to the things that did not make sense to him. 'I think it's ridiculous' continued Bianca, 'men say we become bitter when scorned, but a man can become petty and violent. Injured male pride, I say. Someone she refused must have denounced her’ she scoffed. The theory seemed plausible to those that did not know the truth. Bianca then raised her palm with resignation, ‘fine, Illawara couldn’t find the ten commandments in a Bible, but I’ve met nuns that were more witch than her - as if she were capable of such things anyway.’ The others reflected on the statement.

  Bianca dabbed at her forehead with a scrap of lace as she perspired while in the grip of a throbbing hot flush. ‘There’s just no justice in this world’ she said before she took up a fan and flapped at herself, 'and there's no air in this place. Besides, who will speak as a witness against her?’

  Grizelda dropped a figurine that slipped from her grasp as she polished, but it did not break when it hit the floor. She placed the porcelain mould of a woman back to where it sat on a sideboard.

  The mistress eyeballed her maid, already frustrated by her recent cracks and breakages. Hermes eyed Grizelda too but felt most chagrin with Antonio who sat disengaged from the conversation and spoke not one word in Illawara’s defence. ‘They could dismiss the charges; if she’s lucky' Bianca mused as the others listened, 'they cannot mean to go further on such wild accusations - surely even the Inquisition do not take such things so seriously?’ Her optimism did not seem to be shared by the others in the room.

  'Then why would they come to take Illawara away?' said Hermes, 'why bother if it were not serious?' Bianca shook her head.

  'Tis not the taste and custom of this country. We do not burn everyone like firewood for every trifling denunciation. No, we burn IMPORTANT people, people that matter - the message is much stronger that way' she said, pleased with her reasoning. ‘But I fear that she, the poor girl, will be disgraced with a beating through the streets... That I've seen a hundred times.' The mistress continued, 'and I suspect that’s what her accuser wants - to ruin and shame her.' She clucked her tongue and scowled at the walls, 'I know all these vultures around here: they’ll line the streets to see her beaten and taunted.’

  Grizelda’s eyes glittered with anticipation knowing that would be the least her nemesis would get. Hermes read the smug satisfaction in the maid’s movements as she rubbed at the other figurines. But Dondo rubbed his forehead and seemed troubled.

  ‘This is what happens when a woman is too bold with her words and speaks her mind’ he wheezed with gravitas as if he were reciting some primordial philosophy.

  ‘Oh, do shut up, Dondo’ said Bianca with a snap of her fan, scattering his words. The man shrank as he sighed. 'We're in the seventeenth century now: a woman must speak decorously in public, but in private she can say whatever she likes, especially when she's mistress of her own house!' Bianca then flapped at herself harder with her fan trying to lessen the grip of her hot flush. ‘Heavens, there's no air on Earth' she said as a trickle of sweat ran down her cleavage, 'Grizelda, dear, do open a window, your mistress is roasting.' Everyone except Bianca shivered when the maid walked across the room and threw open the shutters to let in the frigid December air. Bianca filled her lungs with the breeze that swept into the room. The mistress leant back and revived as the others rubbed their arms. Grizelda clutched at her bones. 'I think we must all go to see Illawara at the courthouse today and offer her comfort for her ordeals that lie ahead' Hermes and Dondo nodded with eagerness. Antonio and Grizelda looked away. The mistress crossed herself. 'I pray that they'll be lenient with her. Such haste to the court must mean it's a trifling matter that the judge will dismiss - she'll get a beating at the worst. She will recover, she will marry, and it will be forgotten. Besides, men struggle to punish beauty such as hers.’

  Grizelda felt like spitting, Antonio rolled his eyes and shook his head, but in moments Bianca had started to boss everyone around her: authority over her household restored.

  When the mistress took up her plan to visit Illawara at the courthouse, Grizelda and Antonio made excuses. She said that she had too much housework to do, and he that fatigue consumed him.

  Hermes knew they were both lying. With desperation, Hermes wanted to talk to Illawara and make amends, and share all he knew with her since liberated from the hex upon him. Antonio slid his gaze to Bianca.

  ‘You speak of injustice in the world, Mother’ said Antonio, having not spoken for some time as she carried on, ‘but yet it seems all your thoughts are devoted to the girl, but little thought spent on your blood family.’

  Bianca stopped her hurried instructions and gesticulated.

  ‘Have I not shown contrition? Have I not explained everything to you?’ she said.

  ‘You’ve not asked once about my uncle: your brother. He was there too, remember?’

  Bianca seemed stung with guilt and calmed her movements.

  ‘Antonio, you saw the tears I bore for him' she said exasperated at her son. She gulped in another breath of the chill air before Dondo got up to shut the window shutters. 'So, how is he? My good brother?’

  ‘He’s dead!’

  Antonio turned away from his mother and went back to his brooding. Bianca sat still in the living room for some time. She tried to speak several times but failed. She then looked at the faces of Dondo, Hermes and Grizelda before she bolted out of the door and ran to her bedroom. Dondo went after her. Hermes shook his head at Antonio.

  ‘Could you have been any more brutal?’ he said, but Antonio did not respond.

  ◆◆◆

  With much encouragement from Dondo, as Hermes stood in the hallway, the mistress emerged again from her room. Bianca looked shaken, after learning the fate of her estranged brother's demise and his pauper's burial. She got a grip on herself, wiped away her tears, reflected on her failings with her brother and determined that she would not fail with Illawara.

  Then Bianca, as if possessed of some mighty conviction, commanded her men, declared her plans for Illawara's salvation anew, and marched outdoors with Hermes and Dondo in toe.

  She would deal with Antonio later. The mistress ignored the hungry stares from neighbours as she led the way to the Palazzo della Ragione.

  ◆◆◆

  Once alone, and with Bianca gone, Grizelda and Antonio - the old allies - relaxed into ease.

  Grizelda made tea and sat with Antonio at the living room table, and she listened to him as he spoke about prison and his uncle. But it did not take long, however, before the two of them began to share their deepest thoughts, as they always had done with each other.

  Antonio stirred his spoon in his cup, even though he declined honey, and looked at his confidant with knowing eyes.

  ‘You helped in some way with her arrest, didn’t you?’ he said, looking Grizelda in the face. The maid took in a deep breath, as if the air wei
ghed heavy upon her, and poured herself some more tea.

  ‘She was unbearable’ she said, with tart honesty, ‘and your mother’ exclaimed the maid with a gesture of exasperation, ‘God forgive me.’ Grizelda crossed at herself three times - yet another expression Antonio had not seen in her before, ‘your mother adored the attention that came with that girl - basking like a lizard on a sunny wall. I couldn’t bear it. But the pride of that creature was too much - let alone how she insulted me with every word, every gesture, and every look…’

  The Valet curled his brow.

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘She got worse when you left… she called me a BITCH.’

  ‘But you are a bitch’ smiled Antonio, ‘we both know that and I love you for it.’ Grizelda pouted and fussed at her flat chest. Antonio took on a mercurial expression, ‘but you’ve still not answered my question, Grizzy, you can’t throw me off: I’m not Dondo.’ She huffed, frustrated that Antonio knew her too well.

  ‘That blockhead - she beat him to a pulp, and I think he loves her even more for it…’

  ‘Grizzy’ said Antonio, lowering his voice, ‘you know something. I know you remember? I know what you're like when crossed.’

  The maid determined within herself that she would not reveal all, for fear that she may lose Antonio’s support, even though she suspected long ago that Antonio had ambivalent feelings towards Illawara.

  ‘The man came here of his own accord; I had nothing to do with his arrival: believe me, Antonio no man passed through Padua without visiting here first. Why the Inquisition wants her, I don’t know.’ Antonio sensed that his ally knew more.

  ‘But someone must have denounced her’ he said, 'my Mother is right about that.' Antonio eyed his friend with suspicion. But the maid's eyebrows shot up her face.

  ‘That could have been anyone, Nino’ she said, flapping her arms, ‘she's angered so many suitors. She may have a sweet face, but she has a cruel heart. She’s a wicked, wicked girl’ she added, unable to contain her contempt for Illawara any longer. Antonio gave her a slithering look, sipped more tea, and toyed with one of his mother’s figurines before he replied.

  ‘I think you were jealous of her.' Grizelda flinched before her lips began to twitch. 'But I don’t blame you' said Antonio, 'I can understand why.’

  The maid’s face lurched with emotion as if she were about to be sick. She pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment to try and steady herself.

  ‘I’ve had enough, Nino’ she said, shaking her head, ‘I’ve just had enough. I can’t live like THIS anymore’ she added, her voice choked and her eyes welling. ‘For years I've worked so hard; I’ve given so much of my life to this place - I’ve never married - I’ve always been loyal to your mother. And then she just walks in and shoves me aside. Takes everything I have: takes Bianca, takes Dondo, and then that Moorish Arab comes in and takes you too.’ Grizelda’s tears rolled down her face.

  ‘He’s not taken me’ said Antonio, looking out into blank space, ‘and he’s not a Saracen, he doesn’t kneel and turn to the East. What does it matter anyway? We all pray when we need it.'

  ‘What is he then?’ said Grizelda, wiping at her face. Antonio shrugged.

  ‘He mentioned some things about Alexandria. He can read and write Latin, but none of what else he said makes any sense to me. I just wanted to get out of there. I didn’t pay him much mind.’

  ‘But don’t you love him, Nino?' She sniffed. 'You’ve loved others before.’

  Antonio reached his hand to Grizelda’s face to wipe away her tears.

  ‘I’m fond of him, but he’s just a boy - a bright one, yes - but he's not a Patron, Grizzy.’

  The maid’s voice took on a tone of optimism.

  ‘You can find a Patron, you’ve had Patrons before, Nino. You’re still beautiful. Any man, or woman, can see that. If you find one, maybe this time you could be given a house?' Grizelda smiled, 'and then I’ll come and stay with you there as your housekeeper. You know I’ll never betray you.’ He gave a wan smile and continued to wipe the tears from her face.

  ‘I know, my dear Grizzy’ he kissed her hand, ‘but I need a name before I can win a Patron - it’s not safe for a Patron to keep a man who’s unattached: tongues will move. You’ve seen what’s happened to me before. I need a wife, Grizzy; I need a wife.’

  The maid heaved up a sigh, knowing all too well that her beloved friend spoke the truth, and she wrangled at the injustice of both their situations and the frustrating cards that life had dealt them. Grizelda's breath chopped and heaved. She wiped her nose on her forearm and tried to calm herself.

  ‘All my life, I’ve yet to meet one man that looked at me with desire’ she lamented. The maid turned to Antonio for salvation. ‘Nino... What does it feel like?’ He acknowledged her words, and sighed, but declined to answer. She paused, shook her head, neatened her hair. The maid clenched her fists before she carried on. ‘All SHE has to do is faint in church, sit in a chair for a few weeks, and she then bewitches the hearts of every man in Padua - even a Cardinal.’ She hissed, before digging her fingernail into the wooden table. Antonio flinched.

  ‘Cardinal? No one told me this’ said Antonio, his eyes like pies. ‘What Cardinal? Did he announce himself? What was his name?’ Grizelda looked startled.

  ‘He didn’t say his full title, but it was quite obvious.’ Then she described Orsini as best she could, including his name, and Antonio paled with surprise. ‘What’s wrong? What does it matter?’ she said, frowning and itching at her neck, ‘I wouldn’t worry for her soul, he’s practically married her - he put his dead mother’s ring upon her finger' she scoffed. 'She’ll have salvation even if they burn her' she added with bitterness.

  Antonio’s face filled with revelation. He stood up from the table and clasped his hands together.

  ‘I think I know how to end our troubles’ he said before the maid looked around the room as if to discover what had inspired his thoughts. ‘I didn’t get a chance to explain, but we all escaped him in Florence, that’s part of why I came back so early. Can you imagine if I had told Mother?’ The maid shrugged with incredulity. ‘But, you see, he’s found her again, yet not harmed this place. I think he would say, pay, do, or sign anything to have her all for himself’ guessed Antonio, he looked at his ally, his eyes glittering, sure of the truth.

  But Grizelda gave an uneasy expression that Antonio had not expected; even his worst ideas she usually greeted with her smile. The image of Illawara's burnt remains getting tugged off a blackened bonfire filled her mind - along with the better life that she had always dreamed for Antonio and herself.

  The maid then flashed her teeth to offer Antonio a grin as she always had - but her eyes did not match her mouth. She turned her face from him, poured more tea, swallowed hard, and pondered - for the first time - the consequences of the blow she had dealt Illawara.

  Chapter 23

  The House of Reason

  Padua, afternoon, Wednesday 13th of December 1611

  The courthouse had filled to bursting - so tight were the people packed. It seemed everyone had turned out to grab a glimpse of the beauty they had all heard about, but fewer had seen. Bianca, Hermes and Dondo struggled to find standing space as the public gallery of the Palazzo della Ragione heaved. Muttering, coughs, and open speculation churned around the courthouse, as the clerk announced Illawara’s case number: he had not seen so much excitement in a courthouse since they declared the burning of Giordano Bruno in Rome.

  With her head held high and imperious, Illawara climbed a concealed wooden staircase beneath the court parapet and entered the dock to gasps of admiration from the assembled crowd. She still wore the dress she had been arrested in, untarnished by her scuffles, but Illawara impressed most of all with her composure. Taller than average, with her shoulders thrown back she seemed to tower over the courthouse. She had drawn her raven hair up into a bun, with a braid to hold it in place, which exposed her throat and long neck to full effect. />
  Hermes, having known her all her life, could tell that she had been crying: but it did not show. He knew that crying gave her eyes extra shine, and they glowed like sapphires to leave the crowd mesmerised. The Magistrate fumbled for his words, and Beppe - the mastermind of her arrest - recoiled at the effect she had upon all those present.

  The whispers among the people passed like the wind between rushes and rippled the courthouse with sound. Few of the public knew what the formal charges were against Illawara, but they came when word of mouth had spread that she was the damsel desired by all of Padua. None who came were disappointed.

  When the Magistrate began to speak, everyone leaned forward. He addressed the court and the gallery and went through all the formalities and verbiage required of him before he settled down to what the crowds had arrived to hear.

  ‘Hereby on the thirteenth day of December in the day of our Lord, sixteen eleven, before the mighty council of Padua, in the Palace of Reason you, Illawara Celeste Sloane, are hereby formally charged with the crime of witchcraft.’

  Some expressions of surprise emerged from the gallery. The Magistrate consulted Grizelda’s drafted denunciation: he adjusted the distance of the parchment several times, as he spoke until he could read it clearly ‘…Whereupon you have used the dark arts to seduce unwilling men for the business of accumulating gifts, power, fame and money.’ The crowd whispered to itself, as did Hermes and his companions. Dondo had warned him what was likely to come after following Illawara to the courthouse the day before, but hearing the pronouncement from the Magistrate made it real.

  The Magistrate had prepared in his mind to throw out the case when later evidence, if any, was presented: she’s no witch he thought to himself. The Magistrate had seen all walks of life and could sniff out guilt as easily as a pig could a truffle: upon seeing Illawara he concluded that she was a victim of rumour, envy and spite - nothing more.