Candle in the Attic Window

by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

  When my toilette of the cards was complete, I poured myself a goblet of golden wine. Before bringing it to my lips, I dipped my finger in the warm liquid and turned up a card, touching a drop of wine to that first card, The Empress. The card and I shivered as one. She was pleased.

  Throughout the long night, I brought forth one and then another card, each succeeding image more beautiful than the previous one. Truly, Della Gabella had been a master. The miraculous pictures shewed story after story: dreaming cities where nothing living stirred, peopled with strange, angular towers of jade and obsidian that twisted and turned, seeming to disappear into themselves. That night, the cards took me to places that mere mortals had never been – even in dreams.

  By morning, I was exhausted and exhilarated beyond words. The perfume from the images, exotic hints of violets, earth and despair, had lodged itself in my brain. When the peal of the carillon announced it was time to return to Ferrara, I experienced an anguish that wracked my bones, causing me to tremble in the fibre of my being. I now was certain of only one thing. I must possess them ... this ... miracle – but how?

  The High Priestess

  Zoesi’s appearance when he returned from that excursion – spinning, fizzing with unharnessed energy – frightened me. It told me that something untoward had occurred.

  “Were you successful?” I questioned.

  “Oh, yes, My Lady, beyond all expectations.” His voice was so low, so slurred, I could barely hear him.

  “May I see them?” I said, holding out my palm. As he slipped his fingers inside his tunic to retrieve the deck, his hand shook like an ancient’s crippled with palsy. Claw-like fingers gripped the gilded packet as I wrenched my treasure from them. His pallor spoke of torment at relinquishing the prize. But it was his eyes, the rage in his eyes, which set my heart racing and my limbs shaking with fear.

  “Thank you, Zoesi. That will be all.”

  “My Lady.” Without another word, he turned and stalked out of my chamber. Observing his retreating back, I knew I had made an enemy.

  In the days after his return, I observed Zoesi’s behaviour. His eyes, when he watched me, were twisted with lust and anger. If I did not know that he preferred the hard, smooth limbs of young men, I might have mistaken this as frustrated desire for my own favours. I knew better. Zoesi’s passion was for my golden Imperatori Tarocchi di Firenze.

  He could not, would not have them. They were mine! The minute those golden gems settled like a lover or a child into my tiny palms, I knew that we had been intended for each other. The blackness of his eyes told me that Zoesi wanted my treasure. How far would he go to possess them? This would be a battle to the death, if need be. I trembled with fear at thoughts of the outcome.

  I was girding myself for the conflict, rehearsing reasons I could give my husband for dismissing Zoesi, when I received an unexpected boon. Plague had spread its ugly countenance over the rat-infested streets of Ferrara. My husband, fearing for my safety, ordered that I withdraw for the summer to the countryside and take my stepson with me. I determined to take the golden deck with us, believing that removing the cards from Zoesi’s proximity would diminish his lust for them.

  Ah, if that had been the only snare of which to be cautious. A far greater danger awaited.

  Codigoro, away from the miasma of Ferrara, was lovely that summer. In the long, clement evenings, Ugo and I would sit close together in a bower by the River Po. Sheltered and screened from servants’ prying, in our canopy of vines and willows, we laid out the cards again and again, letting the magical images transport us to gardens filled with rosy fruit and fantastical, half-seen animals.

  The scent of lilac, hyacinth and violet flowers pervaded the air around us. Their miasma gave the impression we had been transported to a new heaven. Experiencing ourselves high up in a crystal tower overlooking the entire Delta, we could see all the way to a strange ocean, alike and unlike the familiar Adriatic. Ferrara and my husband seemed an eternity away. In those nights, transported by bliss, we became lovers. It seemed so natural, inevitable ….

  I say to you, that summer was the one period of my life when I knew true happiness. Alas, too soon, autumn rains washed away our idyll. It was time to return to reality.

  The Knave of Hearts

  That summer, Alicia, left behind, had become one with the gryphons guarding the roofline of the castle. Daily, she occupied the high, west-facing rampart scanning the horizon, as if by her presence she could will an apparition into being.

  “Oh, I am so unhappy!” she cried to the clouds. “Has ever any mortal suffered such pangs as I? Where are you, my beloved?”

  She might have enjoyed the respite from work occasioned by her mistresses’ absence, had not the thoughtless Marquis also sent away his son, heir and her beloved, Ugo, to accompany his stepmother.

  The endless, steaming days and soggy nights plodded along, interminable. The flat plains to the north of the river steamed and festered, while Alicia endured nights twitching and writhing in a frenzy of frustrated desire. In the morning, sodden bedclothes stank from the sweat of fantasy lovers.

  On this day in late September, her vigil bore fruit. A thunderclap of approaching hoof-beats heralded the end of her blighted existence. The onset of autumn, with its cooling rains, had dispersed the pox, calmed the Duke’s fears for the safety of his loved ones, and brought about the return of her mistress and the adored Ugo.

  “At last, I shall be released from this itching which wracks my days and torments my nights,” she cried to the approaching cloud. “Surely, after this intolerable separation, he will be emboldened to speak of transforming our dark needs into reality.”

  Time, wretched thing that it is, passes. Oh, evil fate. With each unresolved day, Alicia became more distraught.

  That fateful morning, she stood in the arcaded loggia just outside her mistress’ chamber, shredding a silken chemise, her fingers enacting on the thin fabric the resentment she felt at his betrayal.

  “They have been back a week today – an entire week. He hasn’t spoken a word to me,” she hissed at the ravaged chemise. “I have ceased to exist. My heart is wrenched into jagged pieces.”

  Her eyes narrowed, remembering. “His fingers linger over-long on my mistress’s hand. I am filled with the most stinging bile at this betrayal.” Her nails raked the innocent silk.

  Never one to endure frustration for long, Alicia decided to search her mistress’ chamber while she was at table with the Marquis.

  When the contemptible lady appeared, flouting her betrayal in ruffles and lace, Alicia accompanied her mistress to the small dining chamber and saw her seated opposite her husband. Ignoring a speculative look from the Marquis, and wishing them “Buon giorno”, she retreated.

  Secure in the knowledge that the Lady would not return in less than an hour, Alicia ransacked the chamber, looking for evidence of Parisina’s treachery until her fingers seized upon a new clove pomade. Opening its secret chamber, she found a ring hidden inside.

  At first glance, she recognised it as Ugo’s – her Ugo’s. When she tried to place it on her finger, it would not fit. The flimsy trinket had been cut down, made smaller to fit the hand of a faithless wife. Looking more closely, she espied the inscription traced on the inside: To my enchanting Parisi, long may this remind you of our love.

  Her eyes were thrown open, her heart stabbed with betrayal. Tossing the wretched thing into the fire, Alicia ran out of the chamber, only to collide with her dear Uncle Zoesi, upon whom she collapsed in a flood of tears. As she sobbed against his chest, he was so supportive that soon, she had confided to him all her sadness and resentment.

  The High Priestess

  My maidservant Alicia was Zoesi’s niece. She had served me faithfully for two years and could rightly expect a prosperous marriage, with a proper dowry, after her time with me. Such was my habitual way to reward those who had pleased me. Concerned about Zoesi’s intentions, I determined to question her about her uncle’s habits and activi
ties – perhaps to confide some of my fears to her.

  When I returned to my chamber, Alicia was nowhere to be seen. What was to be seen was a maelstrom of overturned tables, bottles tipped onto the floor, powders and tablets trod underfoot. All of my bedclothes had been torn from the mattress and thrown about the chamber. Ignoring these, I searched frantically for my clove pomade. Finding it open under a pile of pillows, I knew without looking that Ugo’s ring was missing.

  Only Alicia had access to my room. Only she could have done this. Why? Ordering her brought to me, I cleared debris from a stool and sat down to wait. On first entering the chamber, she feigned astonishment at the sight.

  “My Lady, what is this? What has happened here?”

  “Alicia, please do not insult me with falsehoods. Only you have keys to my chamber.”

  “I ... no ... There are others ... the Marquis ... My Uncle Zoesi ….”

  “The Marquis was with me, as you know. Are you accusing your uncle of this ... this abomination?”

  “I ... no ... I don’t know.”

  “Come, come, Alicia. Stop this play-acting. Where is the ring that was in my pomade?”

  “What ring? I know of no ring.”

  “Alicia – stop. I shall have you searched – by two or three of my men. They would make a very thorough experience of it. Would you like that?”

  “No, please ... no.”

  “Then tell me what you did with the ring and we shall put this behind us.”

  “It is ... I threw it into the fire.”

  I rushed to the fireplace and, grabbing a poker, began to search through the ashes. Finding it in the far corner, I said a silent prayer to the angels for Alicia’s lack of dexterity and turned back to my cowering servant. If ever I had thought her a friend, she was now anathema to me.

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “My Lady, I was trying to protect you. I saw the ring was a man’s and too small to be the Master’s. In a fit of panic, I threw it onto the flames, lest other eyes should happen upon it.”

  “Alicia, I don’t believe you. Do you think I have not noticed the way your eyes seek out Ugo, undressing him with your hungry thoughts? I cannot stand the sight of you. You are dismissed. You will be beaten before quitting this palace forever.”

  The Magus

  What a fortuitous fashion in which to begin one’s morning! To comfort my niece, I had feigned great distress at Parisina’s behaviour. Alicia did not know that I was only-too-aware of her stupid passion for young Ugo. As if the heir to the throne of Ferrara would ever use a servant girl for more than a moment’s distraction. I feigned shock and dismay at learning of my mistress’s infidelity – and with her stepson, no less. I cautioned Alicia to say nothing to anyone, lest the guilty couple learn of our intentions to expose their secret. At last, her rage assuaged, my silly niece walked away, head bowed, but no longer weeping.

  My heart leapt into flight, like a butterfly exiting its chrysalis. Could this be the tool I needed to extract the miraculous tarocchi from the clutches of its undeserving owner and punish her for her selfishness? Yes! I would make it so.

  From that moment on, I began to observe their actions. To my great delight, I was soon able to prove the veracity of my niece’s accusations beyond all doubt.

  Despite knowing the need for caution, the lovers were unable to control their illicit passion. I overheard them fix times and places of assignations – assignations that I watched from the shadows. How beautiful they were, these young lovers in passionate embrace, their hands and limbs entwined in desire, bodies like white marble in the candlelight. The aesthete in me was saddened to think that this beauty would be defiled – but it must be so. I would defile the Virgin herself to recover my beautiful tarocchi.

  Perhaps I have misled you – allowed you to believe, that my actions were solely motivated by my desire to possess the unique deck I had procured for Parisina? I cannot deny that, from the first moment these cards snuggled into the palm of my hand – as if they had been created to sit – just there, I became determined to make them my own. But what is a courtier to do? My task was to protect and defend the interests and well-being of my Lord and Master. My duty was clear. I must inform Niccolò of his wife’s treachery. First, I would need a way to demonstrate their perfidy beyond all possibility of denial. Their passion, boiling out of control, soon made this possible.

  I learned that on those nights when she was not called upon to be with the Marquis, My Lady had become accustomed to spend the hours of darkness with her beloved in her chamber. What bliss they experienced in those hours together.

  What terrible frustration the boy suffered on those other nights when his mistress was required to lie in the arms of his rival – her lawful husband – his father. During those times, I watched him pacing the ramparts in turmoil. How I longed to take him into my trustworthy arms and calm his frenzy, to save him from the dreadful fate approaching. Alas, now that I was certain of the terrible truth, there was no alternative but to tell the Marquis.

  •

  “What is this evil spewing from your mouth? Are you mad?”

  “My Lord.” I was on my knees before a raging Marquis.

  “I would that I was. I would gladly take upon myself the agony of madness if it would preserve thee from this terrible betrayal.”

  “You are telling me that Parisina – my wife Parisina, mother of my children, is enjoined in incestuous union with that ... with my bastard Ugo!”

  “My Lord, I am deeply saddened, but it is so.”

  “But she is my wife. How could any woman I have honoured with my favours, especially my wife, entertain thoughts of taking another into her bed?”

  “I have no idea, My Lord.” In my mind, I compared his blotched, heavy-jowled face with Ugo’s fine skin and lustrous black eyes. “But she is young, as is he. I believe the affair began when they were thrown together in exile last summer in Codigoro.”

  “Don’t tell me these things. I will not entertain such foulness in my home.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. Lecherous, greedy pig he may have been, but he was my master and he was mortally wounded by these accusations.

  “I don’t want to believe this atrocity. Have you proof?”

  Nodding my head sadly, I said, “The proof of my own observations. I have seen them in unholy congress.”

  “I would also have this proof. Arrange it.”

  “As you will, My Lord.” I backed out of the audience chamber.

  •

  To this end, I secreted my master and myself in a carved, wooden garderobe in Parisina’s bedchamber. The Marquis had earlier sent word to his wife that he would be away for the evening. I had every confidence that the lovers, believing themselves free for the night, would soon unite before us.

  My unhappy confidence was not misplaced. The Marquis, seeing his wife in the arms of his son, burst out of his hiding place. “You whore! Defiler of marriage beds and the good names of good woman. I am sickened by you both.”

  Surprised at the moment of coitus, Parisina and Ugo struggled to find blankets and sheets to cover their nakedness.

  Turning his attention to Ugo, the Marquis grew more incensed, “You viper in my bosom. You are my son. You would be heir to my kingdom. I loved you!”

  “My Lord, Father …,” Ugo tried to say.

  “Shut your lying mouth. I will hear no more words from those deceitful lips.” Niccolò turned away from his son. “Guard. Take this bastard to the dungeon. When I have finished with this whore, I shall observe his beheading.”

  “Father!” Ugo screamed as he was dragged away.

  Niccolò was not listening, his attention focused on Parisina cowering in the middle of her bed. He screamed, “You faithless bitch! What did you want that I did not give you? Was it too much to ask that you be faithful to your lawfully wedded husband?”

  “Niccolò ....”

  “No, don’t speak. No more lies from you, either. You will watch your paramour sepa
rated from his head before also paying the same price for your betrayal.”

  Turning his back on her imploring eyes, the Marquis buried his face in his hands. “Guards, watch over this chamber. Let her prepare to meet a vengeful God. Make certain she has no opportunity to speak to the bastard before he goes to his Maker.”

  The Chariot

  Alas, we are undone; Zoesi has ruined us. He will have his cards. I caressed them and held them in my hands for the last time; I cursed him with them.

  “My treasure, may you bring him no joy – only pain. May his days be empty and alone, his nights filled with demon-terrors, and may he end his life forgotten, a rotting corpse plucked apart by scavengers.”

  I had been a fool, blinded by first love. How could I have been so stupid to believe that our passion would remain undiscovered? If I could so easily read the truth of Alicia, why then should I expect others not to see the joy that lit up my face whenever Ugo approached?

  It would be possible to say ... to excuse our behaviour as the fruit of a lonely exile in Codigoro, but I am no hypocrite. From the moment Niccolò announced his intention to send the boy with us, I knew what would happen. My pretty cards foretold it.

  “I am entrusting my beloved son and heir to your safekeeping,” he said. “You are his stepmother; I know you will look after him as one of your own.”

  Dear God, Niccolò, were you blind or too puffed up with vanity to see that he and I are the same age? And now, it is too late. The Wheel has turned and we must accept our fate. My sorry part will be to watch my lover lose his head for loving me.