The Food Taster

by Peter Elbling

  I held her in my arms and wondered what Federico had in mind for her. So much had happened in one day — the sabbat and the fire were already distant memories -- that my thoughts were as jumbled as leaves in a storm. Later that evening, I stood in the courtyard looking up at the stars when Tommaso came to my side. We leaned over the wall looking down at the huddled houses of Corsoli bathing in the light of the moon. He said, 'I swear I did not tell Miranda to go to the sabbat.'

  It amused me to think that he thought that he could convince Miranda to do something. 'No,' I laughed, 'you cannot make Miranda do anything she does not want to do.'

  He nibbled his nails. 'Then why did you give Miranda to Federico?'

  'I did not give her to Federico. Vittore did.'

  'Vittore?' he frowned. 'What are you going to do about it?'

  'Nothing. Why?'

  His eyes became as round as the moon. 'But Miranda cannot be with Federico!'

  'Why not?'

  'But she is—' His eyes closed, he gripped the wall.

  'You may not have told her to go to the sabbat,' I said, 'but you did not stop her.'

  He hung his head. 'It was she who made me go,' he replied.

  That night I had bad dreams. I do not know if it was because of the pinches of arsenic I had been taking, but I dreamed Corsoli was drenched in blood. No matter how many times I awoke I always fell back into the same dream. Blood flowed from everywhere. From every mouth, from every vessel, from the pores of my skin, and from the walls of the palazzo.

  'We must leave,' I said to Miranda the next morning. 'I can find work in Firenze or Bologna. Maybe we could go to Roma.'

  She looked at me as if I had lost my senses. 'Why, babbo?'

  'Something terrible is going to happen. I feel it.'

  'Babbo, you were dreaming again.'

  'Yes, but I dreamed it in the morning when the truth speaks clearer because it is farther away from the body.'

  'Then you must pray that you do not have bad dreams.'

  'No, we must leave.'

  'But how can I?' she cried. 'Duke Federico has ordered the dress-maker to make some new dresses for me.' She stood up and danced around the room. 'I am going to be a princess!'

  'You are doing this to make Vittore jealous.'

  'Vittore?' she answered. 'Who is Vittore?'

  From then on Miranda ate at Federico's table every night. At the third meal, Federico pushed Nero off the seat so that Miranda could sit next to him. Soon, to everyone's amusement, she was imitating birds and animals, even some of the courtiers. Within a week, she was the life of the dinners and I could not have been happier. Even so, I was not prepared when a servant knocked on my door while Miranda was taking her lessons and said, 'Federico is on his way to see you.'

  I did not have time to ask why. Like a madman, I pulled the large chest over to my table and in one sweep pushed every potion, herb, poison, antidote, all my experiments and all my writings into it. I had just lit some incense and spices and piled up the cushions on the bed when Federico entered.

  I bowed. 'I am honored, My Lord.'

  Federico coughed and waved his hat at the wisps of smoke. I snuffed out the candles and opened the window. He sat down on the chest. In my haste I had not closed it properly and part of my writing was sticking out.

  'What does Miranda like?' Federico asked. 'Vittore said you would know.'

  I might have known that bastard was behind this. 'She likes to sing and play the lyre.'

  'I know that.'

  'When she was younger she used to stand in the window when the sun was setting and sing.'

  'What else?'

  I could not think of anything because I was so worried that he might see the paper sticking out of the chest. I said on the farm she spoke to the animals as if they were her friends, and that she liked to ride on my back.

  'I do not want to know what she liked when she was three! I want to know what she likes now! What sort of jewelry? What kind of perfumes? What styles of dress?'

  'She likes all manner of jewelry and perfumes.'

  'She does not like rose water.'

  'All except rose water,' I agreed.

  He said, 'You have known her all your life and I only a few days, yet I know her better than you do.'

  He stood up, sniffed the air, put on his hat and left. I opened my chest and rescued my experiments, but I could not work on them. Something Federico had said disturbed me. How could he know Miranda better than I? It was not possible. I knew Miranda's moods. I knew how she jumped up and down when she was happy. How she sang to stop her loneliness. How she bit her bottom lip when she was upset. What else was there to know? What father knew more about his daughter than I did? Did Cecchi know more about Giulia? Did Federico know more about his sons? No! Miranda would like any perfume because she had never had any of her own. She had never owned jewelry and her dresses had always belonged to someone else. She would be pleased with anything Federico gave her.

  The next day Federico gave Miranda a gold bracelet and a peacock feather. The day after a statue and a tiara. The day after that a diamond-studded hand mirror. By the end of the week, we were so flooded with gifts we had no room to sleep. Federico evicted three clerks from the room next to ours and gave it to Miranda. A door was made between our rooms. Federico told Miranda to decorate her room however she pleased. She wanted the ceiling painted with stars, the floors covered with carpets, and on the wall opposite her bed, she told Grazzari to paint a picture of the Madonna and child.

  'Ask her if I can paint something different,' Grazzari complained. 'I have painted the baby Jesus sitting in the Madonna's lap, standing on her knee, and lying in her arms. I have painted him with blond hair, black hair, curly hair, and no hair. I have drawn him asleep and awake, smiling at the sky, pointing in a book, and blessing a lion. I am tired of painting the Madonna, too. I want to paint something else.'

  Miranda insisted on the Madonna and child and so that is what Grazzari painted.

  Miranda rose late and spent hours arranging her new furniture. She ignored her lessons. Federico said, 'She does not need any more schooling. She is already cleverer than the rest of the court put together.'

  I hoped he would continue to think so because even though I loved Miranda more than life itself, sometimes she had no idea what she was talking about and when she became upset, her voice squeaked. Federico did not care. 'She has the neck of a swan,' he said at the table. 'Her hair is like a dark river. Her eyes glow like fireflies.' He asked me if her pee smelled like bergamot.

  'Her pee? I do not know.'

  'You are her father. How can you not know what her pee smells like?'

  And do you know, I wanted to ask him, what your son's turds smell like? But I said nothing. It did not matter what I or anyone said. Completamente in adorazione! He worshiped her. He hid behind columns to watch her walk by while the servants carried on as if he was not there. He ordered his barbers to tease his wispy hairs into different shapes to please her. Piero made sweet-smelling potions for his skin, and two tailors worked day and night sewing him new robes and hose and hats.

  'Federico is in love,' the palace tittered. Just how deeply in love I saw one evening at dinner when Miranda related how she used to serenade our goat. Federico had just lifted a heaping spoon of finely chopped salted tongue mixed with spices and vinegar to his mouth when Miranda stayed his arm and began to sing.

  Oi me! I thought, she is separating Federico from his food! But Federico did not say a word. He sat there, the spoon inches from his gaping cave while Miranda sang three verses of her little song. Then, when she had finished, she let go of his arm.

  'Wonderful,' Federico clapped.

  'She has a voice,' Septivus mused, 'which is not so much like a bird, but an angel.'

  'Yes, but not any angel,' Bernardo chimed in, 'an angel who has been close to God.'

  'Surely all angels are close to God,' said Vittore. 'That is why they are angels.' He was wearing a handsome green velvet jack
et and matching hose, although his hair was still unkempt and his chest still covered with charms and talismans.

  'That is it, Vittore,' Federico said. 'She is an angel.'

  Every day for a week Federico ate a soup of cloves, laurel, celery, and artichoke followed by a baked pie of layered ham and mince lambs' kidney doused in wine. There was something else in it, too.

  'Sliced goats' balls,' Tommaso said, as we stood in the courtyard watching the sunset. 'Sprinkled with salt, cinnamon, and pepper.'

  That was all he had time to say because just then Federico rushed up to us and, pointing at the band of fire scorching the mountaintops, cried, 'Do you see? The sun!' He took a deep breath and spouted:

  My heart is like the sun

  For when you leave the room

  Then I am filled with gloom

  And . . . and . . .

  We waited. He took a breath, closed his eyes. Tommaso was standing next to me, and Federico was standing slightly in front of us. Tommaso's hand moved to his dagger.

  'My heart is like the sun,' Federico said again.

  The dagger was halfway out of its sheath.

  'For when you leave the room—'

  I put my hand on Tommaso's arm to prevent him from pulling the dagger out any farther.

  'A sonnet,' Federico roared. 'I want to write a sonnet.'

  He whirled around. My hand was back in its place and so was Tommaso's dagger. ‘I think it will be a wonderful expression of love, Your Excellency.'

  'So do I. I must find Septivus.' And he rushed off.

  Tommaso's face was white with rage. 'I could have—' he began.

  I inclined my head to the three guards standing in the doorway of the palace. 'We would have both been killed and I will not die for your foolishness!'

  'And I will not let Miranda die because of your selfishness,' he cried, with such determination that for the first time I believed him.

  Later that evening, I walked by Septivus's room. He was working by candlelight, his hair in disarray, muttering those same lines over and over again:

  My heart is like the sun

  For when you leave the room

  Then I am filled with gloom. . . .

  Septivus has not slept since Federico fell in love. No one has. Love has changed Federico so much that even those who know him well do not know what to expect. He pulled Cecchi's beard and made fun of Piero's giggling. He no longer believed the world was in the shape of a triangle, but in the shape of a heart. He surprised us by saying, 'Surely, it is as Cicero said: "There is nothing that cannot be achieved with a little kindness. Dare I say love?'"

  We cheered and applauded. Federico quoting Cicero! He neither raped Miranda nor forced himself on her in any other way. He wanted her to love him. Love had bloomed in him, and although the walls of anger and cruelty were hardly collapsing in the face of its power, here and there a small hole appeared. As if she knew this, Miranda did her best to open them wider. 'I want to go to Venezia, ride a camel, and meet the Holy Father,' she announced, during a game of backgammon.

  Federico's eyes crinkled with delight and disappeared between the fat folds on his face. 'I will take you to Venezia next year and I will buy you a camel.'

  'And the pope?' Miranda asked. She removed several of Federico's pieces and clapped her hands with glee.

  'Not the pope,' Federico answered.

  'Why not?' Miranda demanded.

  'Because I said so!' Federico snarled. Miranda continued to play as if she had not heard him. Then she looked up and, smiling innocently, said, 'The Federico I heard about as a child used to spit out popes as if they were fennel seeds. Oh, look,' she said, moving a piece on the board. 'I win. Again. Now can we go to Roma?'

  Federico stared at her. I could see he wanted to smile, but his anger would not allow him. 'We will see,' he said gruffly.

  He doted on Miranda's every word and sometimes found meanings in them she did not intend. When she said in passing that the other girls had mocked her when she first came to the palace, Federico ordered them into the hall — some were now married with children —and threatened to cut out their tongues if they ever spoke badly to Miranda again.

  I pleaded with her to be cautious. Federico had once given jewels to a whore only to accuse her the next day of stealing them. 'Are you comparing me to a whore?' Miranda asked.

  'Of course not. I just beg you to be careful.'

  She rolled her eyes. 'You worry too much.'

  Because Federico was in love with my daughter, women wanted to seduce me. It had been a long time since I had been with a woman, but by keeping the vision of Helene in front of me, I was able to resist them.

  One night I saw Federico and Vittore standing beneath a tree in Emilia's garden. As I watched, Vittore raised his arms to the moon and uttered a prayer which Federico repeated. Then Vittore uncovered a bowl he was carrying, and Federico, after first looking around to make sure no one was watching, dipped his hand into the bowl, took out some paste, and rubbed it on his testes. I hurried to the kitchen maid and told her what I had seen.

  'What is Federico eating?' she asked.

  I told her about the soup with cloves, the pie of layered ham, and the sliced goats' balls.

  'Aphrodisiacs,' she giggled.

  But they cannot be working, I thought to myself. Now I knew why Federico had not tried to rape Miranda or force himself upon her. He could not get it up. I prayed that this would not alter his love for her or change his good humor.

  There was still reason to fear Federico. At breakfast, Miranda mentioned that roses were her favorite flower. Federico ordered twenty servants to gather all the roses in the valley and present them to Miranda at dinner. 'I want to surprise her.'

  But roses were no longer in bloom. Enraged, Federico ordered the servants imprisoned and the eldest one put on the rack.

  'Ask Federico to release them,' I said to Miranda. 'It is not their fault.'

  Miranda refused. 'I cannot. He is doing it for me. To show how much he loves me.'

  'You will make enemies.'

  'Me?' She picked up a hand mirror and brushed her hair. 'But I have done nothing.'

  'You have forgotten where you came from.'

  'Why should I want to remember?' she laughed.

  'This is not how I raised you.'

  'Really?' She held up the mirror so I could see my face in it next to hers. 'You think you are so different from me? Everything I am, I have learned from you. For the first time in my life someone is giving me everything I want and you are jealous.'

  'I am trying to protect you.'

  'Who from?'

  'Yourself,' I answered.

  She laid the mirror down. 'I did not think you would say who you really meant.'

  I grasped her shoulders. She glanced at my hands as if they were not worthy to touch her. I struck her and she fell to the ground holding her cheek. Picking her up, I begged her forgiveness. She got up slowly, her eyes cold, her cheek red from the mark of my hand.

  'If you ever do that again, I will tell Federico.'

  I walked out and closed the door between us.

  Every day the world changed a little more. Miranda spent her time becoming a princess, Federico spent his chasing Miranda and left the running of the palazzo to Vittore. Vittore supervised the wool contracts. He banned Bernardo from giving astrological readings and forced Piero to show him how he made his potions. He forbade Septivus from reading to Federico and argued with Cecchi. Guards accompanied him wherever he went. First two, then four.

  Not long after, I heard a shuffling outside my door. When I opened it, Cecchi and Septivus entered quickly. 'Candles are hard to come by,' Checchi said, and snuffed mine out. We stood in the darkness, the moonlight casting our faces in shadow. Cecchi cleared his throat as he always did before he said something important. 'We are concerned about the fate of Corsoli. We feel because Duke Federico is preoccupied, he is not listening to the best advice.'

  'Whose advice is he listening to?'
<
br />   'Vittore's.' Cecchi tugged at his beard.

  'He has made friends with the soldiers,' Septivus said. In other words, he was too well guarded for an ordinary assassination.

  'Why are you telling me this?'

  'You have served the duke well,' Cecchi said carefully. 'He is marrying your daughter. You are close to him. Maybe you can think of some way to save Corsoli.'

  A bat flew in the window and around the room, its wings beating frantically in the darkness. 'An omen!' Septivus said.

  But what sort of omen? I wondered, when the bat flew out again. 'If I did something to help Corsoli—'

  'We will be forever in your debt.' Cecchi replied. We grasped one another's arms.

  After they had gone I sat by the window. It was not raining as it is at this moment, but the stars were low enough for me to touch, and the hills cutting into the dark velvet sky looked more like a painting of nature than nature itself. Indeed, nothing was real anymore. Something had just happened that I was only just grasping. I, Ugo DiFonte, food taster to Duke Federico Basillione DiVincelli, was being treated like a courtier.

  CHAPTER 28

  I had always tried to save lives, be it Miranda's, my own, or Federico's. Now I was being asked to become an assassin. Even though I had tried to kill Vittore in the stable, planning his death disturbed me. I wondered if God was watching. I found myself looking over my shoulder, smiling for no reason other than I was afraid that my face would betray my thoughts. Then, I remembered how Vittore had killed Toro, my best friend, how he had almost raped Miranda and . . . things, roused me ... to ... a passi—

  I cannot write after I have drunk henbane juice. My eyes become confused, things grow bigger and smaller, and nothing is what it appears to be. My head aches. I will continue later.