“I am your wife, not your spy.”
“You are my spy because you are my wife. Do not imagine Joanna has any illusions otherwise. You only see and hear what she does not care if I know.”
“Then what use is anything I tell you?”
“Everything is of use. We may be called upon to rule this kingdom; we have to be prepared to seize our chance when it arrives.”
I pull my horse to a stop. “You promised you would win us a kingdom, not steal my sister’s. You said my wealth and yours would enable you to mount an army and—”
“Your wealth? How much of your dowry have I seen? How much am I ever likely to see from your sister?”
“She will give it to you! She said she would.”
“‘Say’ and ‘do’ are different things, Duchess Maria. If I cannot have your dowry, I will have to take your inheritance.”
I stare at him, my mouth open. “You would never harm the Queen. You swore an oath.”
He frowns at me. His stallion, feeling his tension, prances to continue, but Charles reins it in. “I swore an oath,” he agrees. “But if something happens to your sister, I must be prepared to make our claim. I cannot let our cousin Louis, close as he is to the Queen, or his brother Robert of Taranto who is closer to the throne than I, steal it from us.”
“Robert is not closer to the throne than I am. I am my sister’s heir.”
Charles lets his horse out into a trot, forcing me to urge my mare to follow.
“What do you mean, ‘if something happens to my sister’?”
He is ahead of me and does not answer, although I believe he must have heard.
Charles is an honorable man. He is only thinking ahead. This business with the legate has my sister looking pale and weary again, and summer is coming on. But Joanna is stronger than she appears; she will not succumb to the heat-borne fevers of mid-summer. Charles will have to look elsewhere for our kingdom.
“The Cardinal now insists that Queen Joanna and Duke Andrew make their vow of obedience together, in public,” I tell Charles as he lifts me down from my horse in the entrance of Castle Durazzo. It will be public knowledge soon enough, but he will be pleased to know it first.
I am on the ground now but he continues to hold me, his strong hands warm on my waist. “Together? And publicly?” He laughs as though he is pleased at my sister’s humiliation.
“It is a slur on us all,” I remind him.
He nods, but his eyes still twinkle.
That night, when he comes to my bed, I tell him I may be pregnant.
He stops half-way through unlacing the front of my night gown. “Are you certain?”
I lift one shoulder in a little shrug, causing my gown to slip down my arm. “I have only missed one of my courses,” I admit.
Charles bends and kisses my bare shoulder, his fingers reaching under my gown to caress my breast. “We had best be certain, do you not agree?”
I find I agree completely.
***
It is very hot in the bright June sunlight as the Queen and Duke Andrew kneel before the papal legate in the presence of all their court, and vow to obey him. I think I see Joanna sway as she rises from her knees, but she straightens quickly. Although her face is drained of color, she maintains a rigid expression of calm and control. She must be furious beneath her composed appearance; when we were children, her face always went white when she was angry.
Next she will swear to Cardinal Aimeric an oath of homage to the church, and officially recognize church authority over her kingdom, but this she will do later, without Andrew, as she is the sole sovereign of the Kingdom of Naples. Surely the Cardinal will not delay again. He must begin his rule of Naples; the ruling council has already been dismissed.
It is not the Cardinal who delays. When I come to court three days later, Joanna is abed, and Sancia tells me she is very ill.
“How ill?” I look around. Sancia is the only one in Joanna’s presence chamber.
“The physician is bleeding her now. She has the summer fever.”
I step back. “Are you well?” My hand goes to my abdomen. I have a child to think of.
Sancia catches the movement and smiles. “I am not sick. But perhaps you should return to your husband’s castle, or leave the city?”
I flush. “You have not deserted her.”
“Nor will I. But I have no one else to consider. The Queen is being well cared for. My Grandmother is with her, and three physicians from the university have been called in to consult with her personal physician. She suffers from an excess of care, if anything.” Sancia’s smile is strained, at odds with her light tone.
“I will wait to hear what the physicians say.” I sink onto a chair. Sancia sits beside me. She tells me my sister has been ill for two days now, and shows no sign of improving. I nod without answering. Philippa will care for my sister, as she has since we were babies. She will know what to do. Philippa would die herself before she would allow any harm to come to my sister.
But I could not save Louis. Philippa has no power over death. And if Philippa catches it also? I feel a moment of terror at the thought of losing both of them.
Sancia glances at me. I force myself to breathe evenly, to maintain a confident visage. I am a royal princess, not a peasant ruled by fears. The discipline calms me. My sister has been sick before, and so have I, and Philippa nursed us through it. I am foolish to worry.
At least I have Charles. I am not alone, I will always have Charles. How could I forget him, even for Joanna? When I return to Castle Durazzo he will be full of questions.
“The legate has taken charge of the kingdom, then?” I ask.
“No.”
“No? Who is in charge?”
“I cannot tell you who is ruling Naples, Princess Maria. No one knows.”
“Has the ruling council been reinstated?”
“They have not. Cardinal Aimeric has not come, nor sent an answer to the Queen’s advisors. He will not do anything until the Queen has officially relinquished her authority to the Church.”
“No one is in charge?” I gasp, horrified. “What does Philippa say?”
“She is busy nursing the Queen. We are all praying for Her Majesty’s quick recovery.”
“Amen,” I say fervently. Does Charles know? He must, and his mother also. They were at court yesterday. I had one of the headaches that come on me when I am with child. Perhaps they did not want to upset me with news of my sister’s illness. Perhaps Charles meant to tell me today. They left Castle Durazzo before I was downstairs this morning; I rode over with one of my husband’s men as escort.
Whatever excuse I make for them, I am still angry. Joanna is my sister. I should have been told at once. I would have come, headache or not; just as I am determined to stay, fever or not. I clasp my hands together tightly in my lap and wait for her physician to come out of her bedchamber.
When at last he does, he strides through the presence chamber with two other physicians. They are preoccupied with their subdued conversation and do not glance around. I have to jump up and call to him.
He turns and recognizes me—he was my physician as well while I lived here—and comes over to us.
“Tell me how she is.”
“The Queen is getting worse,” he says quietly. “If you go in to see her, do not stay long. Her Majesty needs her rest. And do not touch her. We cannot risk you both.”
“I was always the healthy one,” I remind him. I never caught Joanna’s childhood ailments. But still, his comment frightens me. Does he expect to lose Joanna? I do not ask, for fear of what his answer might be. Instead I hurry into Joanna’s room.
Philippa is sitting on the far side of the bed wiping Joanna’s forehead with a damp cloth. She looks up and frowns when she sees me. I ignore her disapproval, which is in truth only concern for me, for us both. I approach the bed.
My sister lies very still, seemingly asleep. Her face is as white as the sheets, her hair loose, spread out across the pillow,
lank and damp with sweat. Her arms, equally pale, lie on top of the covers, bound where the leeches were placed. I take her hand. It is limp and hot in mine.
“I am here, Joanna,” I whisper.
She opens her eyes. They are dull and listless, and I think that she does not know me until she says, “You should not be here.” Her voice is so weak I have to bend low to make out her words.
My eyes fill with tears. “I will not leave you,” I tell her.
“You must.” She tries to pull her hand away, but I tighten my hold. A fit of coughing takes her.
One of the physicians has stayed with her. He gets up quickly to come to her, but she raises her other hand weakly, stopping him.
“Think of Naples,” she tells me, when she can speak again. The effort exhausts her. She lets her head fall back onto the pillow and closes her eyes. This time, when I feel her hand move in mine, I let her pull free.
“She is right,” Philippa tells me, wiping Joanna’s forehead gently with the cloth. “Go back to Castle Durazzo. Keep yourself safe, and the infant you are carrying. Naples needs a secure bloodline and you cannot help your sister here.”
I do not ask how she knows I am with child. Philippa was a mid-wife and my father’s wet-nurse before she became Joanna’s and my nurse-mother and our royal grandparents’ advisor. I have come to simply accept that she knows everything. I watch her tend to my sister a moment before I let her granddaughter Sancia take my arm and lead me from the room.
“Let me know—”
“I will,” Sancia promises. “The moment she gets better... or gets worse... I will send someone to tell you.” She motions to one of the guards at the outer door to Joanna’s rooms. “Have a man saddle Princess Maria’s horse and escort her back to Castle Durazzo.”
“No, I want to go to Santa Chiara...” I choke on the words and cannot finish.
“Yes,” Sancia says gently. “Pray to Holy Mary. That is what you can do to help your sister now.”
***
Charles is furious when I arrive home at dusk, but he is not nearly as angry as I am with him.
“Santa Chiara!” I snap when he demands to know where I have been. I march past without another word, up to my rooms. But no matter how worried I might be for my sister, and how angry I am with my husband and mother-in-law for keeping her illness from me, this baby growing inside me insists we are hungry. When Margherita appears I tell her to order a platter for my dinner—I will not go down to eat with them. Charles enters my chamber as Margherita hurries out.
“You should have told me my sister was ill!” I cry before he can reproach me with what I should have done or not done.
“This is precisely why I did not.”
“I had a right to know. She is my sister!”
“And you are my wife! Princess or not, you will be governed by me!”
“I will be governed by you,” I agree. “If I can trust you. Why did you not tell me the Queen was ill?”
He takes a moment. I am glad to see it. I am glad he does not quickly tell me he wished to spare me worry, or prevent me from exposing myself and our child to her fever. Both of these may be true and I would have heard them happily at one time, but I am no longer the naïve child I was. There is more to it than that and I want to hear him say it.
“Because I knew you would do something foolish if you learned it. And you have!”
“Or is it because I will be Queen if she dies?”
He does not answer.
“And you will be King,” I finish for him. “But only if I do not die as well.”
“Do you really think that is the only reason I want you to live?”
“No,” I admit. I know there is more than that between us. “But it is an important one.”
“Next you will ask me if I would have married you if you were not a princess, and heir to the throne. We are not living in a fairy tale, Maria.”
“I would not have asked because I do not need to. I know why you married me now, whatever I thought at the time. Whatever you led me to think.” I say this in a rush, making it up. I have not thought this before. Our confrontation has not gone at all as I wanted. I expected him to deny my accusation at once. I wait for him to deny it now, to tell me, no, I married you because I love you, Maria...
“Of course I married you because you are the Queen’s sister, the only heir to her throne! I wish I had not, for all the good it has done me!”
I stare at him, speechless. And then I turn my head away, so he will not see my eyes tearing. I am fifteen now, I tell myself fiercely. I am much too old for fairy tales.
“I have spent the day praying that my sister will live, and I will pray for it every day until she recovers.”
He does not say anything. He cannot tell me he prays for the Queen’s recovery, or that he hopes she will live. She is the sovereign he swore allegiance to and he should say it, it should be true; but we are now committed to an honest conversation, and he will not lie. I turn away, but he catches my arm.
“I care about you, Maria,” he says. “I do not want you to catch the Queen’s fever because I care for you, as well.”
I nod without looking up. There are many truths, not just one. But I am tired of truth. I do not want to weigh his motives: this much of one and this much of the other. He might ask me mine, and have me weigh them, too. I realize there is a limit to how much honesty I want between us.
“I am tired, Charles. Margherita is bringing me some dinner, and then I will go to bed.”
“Sleep well, Duchess Maria. Perhaps we will have news tomorrow,” he says with a slight smile that lets me know he understands me better than I am prepared to understand myself.
Chapter Eighteen: God’s Will Be Done
Charles insists I do my praying for Joanna in the private chapel at Castle Durazzo. I might as well please him in this, since Philippa, Sancia and my sister are all equally determined I shall not visit Castle Nuovo. The city is becoming more dangerous every day Joanna is ill but no one steps up to impose law and order. I hear of mobs and cutpurses attacking innocent people right outside the gates of the royal castle. Charles insists he is safe going back and forth each day, but he has six of his men-at-arms accompany him, where before he had one or two.
One day he comes home grim-faced and goes straight to his mother in her chamber. I pause at the closed door to my mother-in-law’s privy chamber, take a deep breath, then open it and walk in uninvited.
Lady Agnes turns a threatening face to me, but I square my shoulders and push the door closed behind me.
“Let her stay,” Charles says, cutting off his mother on the verge of ordering me out. “She would find out soon enough, and she must know.”
“Tell me what has happened.” I feel a sick clutch at my stomach. He is going to tell me the Queen—my sister, my rival, my closest friend—has died. What else would make him look like this, as though the earth has turned upside down? I sink into a chair, my eyes already tearing up.
“Duke Andrew has taken control. He has ordered the release of the Pipini brothers, and knighted them.”
“Released them? Who, Andrew?” I stammer, stupid with surprise. “The Pipini brothers? Those murderers?” I collect myself. “My sister is not dead?”
“The Queen is not dead, but she might as well be. She is next thing to it, neither opening her eyes nor communicating with anyone. It would be better for Naples if she would die, rather than linger, leaving us in this limbo where any fool—” He stops himself; he is talking of the Queen’s husband, “—anything might happen.”
“Do not say it.” But there is no conviction in my voice. I am so relieved to hear Joanna is alive. But can the rest be true? Has Andrew released the most vicious villains in the kingdom? “Andrew has knighted the Pepini brothers? How? On whose authority?”
“On his own! And there is none to stop him. No one is in command, and the only one who could assume it, that pompous fool—” he stops himself again, “—Cardinal Aimeric, will not step
in until the proper vows have all been made, and duly recorded, and approved by Pope Clement VI.”
“What are the Tarantos doing?” Lady Agnes demands.
“Arming themselves, if they are smart. Calling up their men. Louis has baited and threatened Andrew for years, and Robert scorned him publicly at every opportunity. Now Andrew has the most ruthless killers in the land beside him, and all the might of the Gatti family behind him. No one will be safe.”
“Are our men armed?” my mother-in-law asks.
“I gave the order before I came in.”
I stare at them in horror. Wolves. Wolves at each other’s throats!
“I am going to see my sister.” As soon as I say it, I start to shake. I want to race to her at once. Joanna will know what to do, she has always been in control of every situation. And Philippa is with her. Philippa always knows what to do!
“You will not!” My mother-in-law says, staring not at me but at my protruding stomach. The infant kicks fiercely as if telling me to listen to her.
“Wait.” Charles motions to his mother. “Perhaps she should. Perhaps the true heir should be seen at Castle Nuovo. Let them all see that she is alive and healthy and fertile.” He smiles as though this were all his accomplishment.
I glare at them both. I am not going in order to be seen, as though I want my sister to die, as though I am just waiting to leap onto her throne. I will not be part of their scheming. But I do want to see Joanna. What if this is the last time I will ever see her?
“I want to see my sister!”
“And you shall, Princess Maria.” Charles smiles. Is he mocking me? “Please tell her for the sake of Naples to live or die, but to choose one of them quickly!”
***
Charles rides beside my litter, with half a dozen of his men riding ahead and another half-dozen following us. This escort alarms me more than anything he said. It is daytime, and Castle Nuovo is not far, and we are riding through the streets of Naples, not down a lonely country road. Yet Charles believes we need a dozen armed men to keep us safe.
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