Belicia turned her attention back to the boy. "Inside, now." Then turning to Dante, "Go and fetch water for us all tutor." It was the first time she'd even spoken to him like that. The way he should be spoken to. Her eyes were hard and bore into the tutor's.
"It would be a pleasure Señora." His smile made Belicia uncomfortable, the shadows of the twilight accentuating elements of his smile she'd never noticed before. "And can I assist with dressing Matthias."
"That would be appreciated."
She shoved Matthias in the back, propelling him through the door, as he faltered and considered going with Carlos, but dared not ask for fear of another slap. Dragging him up the stairs by the arm she pushed him through the door and told him to wait for the tutor's return.
Seating herself at the battered dresser Belicia looked into the partially ruined mirror. She breathed and waited for her composure to return. After a few minutes she dared to look closer - taking in each new line in her face. Her hair, as usual, was beautifully platted and woven into an intricate design too grand for a housewife. It was her only pleasure – the only thing that kept her with one foot in her old life. The neighbours gossiped that she had airs that no common señora deserved to parade. Little did they know who she really was.
The hands she looked down on were hard and calloused from hauling water to the house several times a day, the skin on her fingers cracked and wrinkled from scrubbing the floors like a common scullery maid or tending the copper, the nails no longer beautifully manicured and her arms muscular from kneading bread, when once they were soft and willowy.
She stood and smoothed the sides of her faded, shapeless dress over her hips. But she had kept her figure – her waist still slender and her breasts perk.
When Jose had taken her and the tiny baby into his home she had lied to him – told him that she was unable to have more children and the damage from childbirth was such that she would be unable to satisfy him as was expected as a wife. And he'd believed her... taking his manly solace in the whore houses. The dowry that she brought with her was triple what a nobleman would have expected and her husband set about drinking himself into an early grave with his windfall. Never mention of a new house, a better location, a holiday or something beautiful for her.
There was a knock at the door and Dante entered, pouring icy water into a chipped basin for her.
"I would have taken the time to warm if for you, but time must be of the essence."
Belicia nodded – she was used to washing in cold water now. Gone were the days of luxurious warm baths scented with rose petals. "There is also a gown downstairs," he continued. "It arrived as I was returning."
The excitement rose, but was replaced in the next instant by the crushing realisation that she'd placed in Anne Marie's hands, the choice of a dress. Anne Marie knew she hated yellow and orange – and her imagination momentarily ran away with phantom creations, each more hideous than the next. Belicia knew that Anne Marie was still able to humiliate her in ways she could not fight back.
As if reading her thoughts, Dante offered, "It is a beautiful blood red dress Señora. It will be well suited to your complexion."
"And what do you, tutor, know of high fashion?" She saw him wince each time she referred to him as ‘tutor' and enjoyed it.
"Nothing Señora." He bowed his head to hide his defiant eyes and the hard line of his mouth.
While she toiled without help in the kitchen, the laundry and around the house – they'd given the boy a tutor – someone to pander to him. What about her? She didn't care any longer for the rationalisations from the Palace - it was not safe to have anyone else there - best she take care of things alone. It would call attention to them – having help - such was the decrepit sector of the city they lived in. They were to blend in.
She was the Baronness of Nevers, she was a Clèves and she was not going to stand for being Elisabeth's scapegoat any longer. Belicia wanted the money that was owing to her, she wanted all that had been promised – and more. She was going to leave – hand the boy back, return to France and her family. Let Matthias be Elisabeth's problem for once. The last five years would be like a bad dream that she was waking from.
"Dress the boy in his best tunic and hose. Then get yourself organised – you'll be accompanying me to the Palace tonight."
Dante returned moments later with the gown and laid it on the bed, running a hand over the silk to flatten it. Belicia thought he looked wistfully at her and the bed – perhaps remembering the moment when the emptiness and the angry had been shoved down deep and she had hungrily sort physical gratification from him, feeling his hard body against hers and the need that seemed to be as desperate in him, as it was in her. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
"I shall not be tarrying at the mirror tutor. Don't keep me waiting."
Dante walked out of the room, closing the door louder than he should off, his knuckles white on the door knob. He found Matthias sobbing on his bed. Placing a large hand on the boy's shaking shoulder he gave it a quick squeeze. Matthias looked up through long, tear drenched lashes.
"Am I so horrible that she should want to hit me all the time? I do try ever so hard to please her. But nothing that I do ever pleases her."
Dante passed through the tunic and hose that he found in the tiny wardrobe. The boy became distressed again when the hose were too small and the tunic too short. It was obvious the boy had not worn the clothes in a long time.
"Wait here Matthias. I have an idea." He disappeared and returned with a small, sharp knife, cutting free the legs and binding them to the boy's thighs.
"There!" he said with a modicum of satisfaction. "No one will ever know." He sat down next to the boy on the side of the bed. "You will need to be on your best behaviour tonight Matthias. Because it will be you escorting your mother to the Palace."
"But..."
"There are other things that I must attend to this evening Matthias. Your father for one."
"He will be drunk in Giamento's. Do you have to bring him home? She's even worse when he's here."
Later downstairs, waiting for the carriage to arrive, Dante glared at Belicia. "Someone needs to tell Señor Jose where you have gone. What would he think if he came home and found his home empty – his wife and son gone."
Belicia's face was flushed scarlet – her anger naked. "You will accompany me tutor. This is not just my request, but that of The Queen. Do you hazard to deny the wishes of the Queen? This will all come back onto me and I will not have that. You will do as you are told."
Dante felt an uncomfortable mingling of fierce desire for her – a physical yearning sparked by the beauty in her torrid face and the overwhelming bloodlust, that would still his soul; anchor him in the work in which God had chosen him for.
He needed to pray, he needed peace, he need silence... and he needed to see someone else in pain. His mind spun away from inflicting that exquisite coupling on Belicia, focusing on a more immediate need.
Pulling his cloak about him, he ignored Belicia and left the house, heading for the Giamento's.
"It would be a pleasure Señora." His smile made Belicia uncomfortable, the shadows of the twilight accentuating elements of his smile she'd never noticed before. "And can I assist with dressing Matthias."
"That would be appreciated."
She shoved Matthias in the back, propelling him through the door, as he faltered and considered going with Carlos, but dared not ask for fear of another slap. Dragging him up the stairs by the arm she pushed him through the door and told him to wait for the tutor's return.
Seating herself at the battered dresser Belicia looked into the partially ruined mirror. She breathed and waited for her composure to return. After a few minutes she dared to look closer - taking in each new line in her face. Her hair, as usual, was beautifully platted and woven into an intricate design too grand for a housewife. It was her only pleasure – the only thing that kept her with one foot in her old life. The neighbours gossiped that she had airs that no common señora deserved to parade. Little did they know who she really was.
The hands she looked down on were hard and calloused from hauling water to the house several times a day, the skin on her fingers cracked and wrinkled from scrubbing the floors like a common scullery maid or tending the copper, the nails no longer beautifully manicured and her arms muscular from kneading bread, when once they were soft and willowy.
She stood and smoothed the sides of her faded, shapeless dress over her hips. But she had kept her figure – her waist still slender and her breasts perk.
When Jose had taken her and the tiny baby into his home she had lied to him – told him that she was unable to have more children and the damage from childbirth was such that she would be unable to satisfy him as was expected as a wife. And he'd believed her... taking his manly solace in the whore houses. The dowry that she brought with her was triple what a nobleman would have expected and her husband set about drinking himself into an early grave with his windfall. Never mention of a new house, a better location, a holiday or something beautiful for her.
There was a knock at the door and Dante entered, pouring icy water into a chipped basin for her.
"I would have taken the time to warm if for you, but time must be of the essence."
Belicia nodded – she was used to washing in cold water now. Gone were the days of luxurious warm baths scented with rose petals. "There is also a gown downstairs," he continued. "It arrived as I was returning."
The excitement rose, but was replaced in the next instant by the crushing realisation that she'd placed in Anne Marie's hands, the choice of a dress. Anne Marie knew she hated yellow and orange – and her imagination momentarily ran away with phantom creations, each more hideous than the next. Belicia knew that Anne Marie was still able to humiliate her in ways she could not fight back.
As if reading her thoughts, Dante offered, "It is a beautiful blood red dress Señora. It will be well suited to your complexion."
"And what do you, tutor, know of high fashion?" She saw him wince each time she referred to him as ‘tutor' and enjoyed it.
"Nothing Señora." He bowed his head to hide his defiant eyes and the hard line of his mouth.
While she toiled without help in the kitchen, the laundry and around the house – they'd given the boy a tutor – someone to pander to him. What about her? She didn't care any longer for the rationalisations from the Palace - it was not safe to have anyone else there - best she take care of things alone. It would call attention to them – having help - such was the decrepit sector of the city they lived in. They were to blend in.
She was the Baronness of Nevers, she was a Clèves and she was not going to stand for being Elisabeth's scapegoat any longer. Belicia wanted the money that was owing to her, she wanted all that had been promised – and more. She was going to leave – hand the boy back, return to France and her family. Let Matthias be Elisabeth's problem for once. The last five years would be like a bad dream that she was waking from.
"Dress the boy in his best tunic and hose. Then get yourself organised – you'll be accompanying me to the Palace tonight."
Dante returned moments later with the gown and laid it on the bed, running a hand over the silk to flatten it. Belicia thought he looked wistfully at her and the bed – perhaps remembering the moment when the emptiness and the angry had been shoved down deep and she had hungrily sort physical gratification from him, feeling his hard body against hers and the need that seemed to be as desperate in him, as it was in her. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.
"I shall not be tarrying at the mirror tutor. Don't keep me waiting."
Dante walked out of the room, closing the door louder than he should off, his knuckles white on the door knob. He found Matthias sobbing on his bed. Placing a large hand on the boy's shaking shoulder he gave it a quick squeeze. Matthias looked up through long, tear drenched lashes.
"Am I so horrible that she should want to hit me all the time? I do try ever so hard to please her. But nothing that I do ever pleases her."
Dante passed through the tunic and hose that he found in the tiny wardrobe. The boy became distressed again when the hose were too small and the tunic too short. It was obvious the boy had not worn the clothes in a long time.
"Wait here Matthias. I have an idea." He disappeared and returned with a small, sharp knife, cutting free the legs and binding them to the boy's thighs.
"There!" he said with a modicum of satisfaction. "No one will ever know." He sat down next to the boy on the side of the bed. "You will need to be on your best behaviour tonight Matthias. Because it will be you escorting your mother to the Palace."
"But..."
"There are other things that I must attend to this evening Matthias. Your father for one."
"He will be drunk in Giamento's. Do you have to bring him home? She's even worse when he's here."
Later downstairs, waiting for the carriage to arrive, Dante glared at Belicia. "Someone needs to tell Señor Jose where you have gone. What would he think if he came home and found his home empty – his wife and son gone."
Belicia's face was flushed scarlet – her anger naked. "You will accompany me tutor. This is not just my request, but that of The Queen. Do you hazard to deny the wishes of the Queen? This will all come back onto me and I will not have that. You will do as you are told."
Dante felt an uncomfortable mingling of fierce desire for her – a physical yearning sparked by the beauty in her torrid face and the overwhelming bloodlust, that would still his soul; anchor him in the work in which God had chosen him for.
He needed to pray, he needed peace, he need silence... and he needed to see someone else in pain. His mind spun away from inflicting that exquisite coupling on Belicia, focusing on a more immediate need.
Pulling his cloak about him, he ignored Belicia and left the house, heading for the Giamento's.
Posts
2 comments:
At last! I got around to printing your works out in their entirety (in work's time and expense, of course!) and sat down for a lengthy sunny arvo on the balcony with a cold beer and Captain Juan as company.
The tale truly comes to life when read without the breaks in posts (though previous to that the Story So Far posts were very helpful). Courtesy of that afternoon's reading (and drinking) I have a much fuller idea of the characters in my head and have grown fond of many of them. Certainly my appreciation of the grand and sweeping nature of your design has grown immeasurably.
I thoroughly love the romanticized narratives by Peter and suspect we are now seeing them lurching towards some kind of parallel with events in the 'present'.
Alas, though I feel the good Captain is in need of doing something heroic soon. Of late he has been eclipsed by sun burn, the antics of his crew and Dante's slowly simmering (or is that creeping?) back story ... As bad guy's go Dante is a colossus and I feel his zenith is near. Captain beware!
In truth, I just want to thank you for sharing The Captain with us! I am thoroughly enjoying how you are building this narrative ... and most tellingly of all have come to care for many of your characters.
Okay, enough, the balcony and its sunny temptations calls!
Cheers
thank you once again Hedge Monkey - for coming and commenting - AND for reading all of the posts!! wow that must have taken a few cups of coffee! never fear, our dear Captain has some huge things in store for him.. As for Dante.. well - all I can say is the two of them have alot in store.
Post a Comment