Who would even know what happened to me in this huge, terrifying city? I carried Louis numbly back to the nursery and set him down. Matriona was sewing. She nodded without looking up from her work as he told her of the garden, of seeing flowers and butterflies and playing hide and find.
“Papa found Louis,” he finished proudly.
Matriona looked up.
She saw my face and demanded to know what had happened.
“It is as Prince Louis told you. We went to the royal garden. Prince Louis wanted to play hide and find. His father came upon us while he was hiding and found him.”
“And?” she asked, squinting at me suspiciously.
“And we have come back.” I looked away, knowing I betrayed myself by not meeting her eyes. She would learn of my disgrace soon enough; I could not bear to talk about it yet. As though attuned to my need, Charles awoke and loudly demanded his milk. I changed his clout and put him to my breast, wondering if it would be the last time I did so.
Surely Prince Robert would not have me hanged? I remembered the look on his face when he yelled: And you—! I closed my eyes to shut it out. As if I could. No more than I could unknot the pain that had lodged in my breast ever since. Prince Robert was the love of my life. I had known it the moment I saw him. And now he hated me and he was right to do so. He hated me as much as I would hate anyone who hurt or endangered Charles or Louis.
I caught myself in that thought. As much as I would hate anyone who harmed Antonio, I quickly amended.
At the very least he would send me away so he would never have to see me again. Would I be given any money, or turned out penniless with no way to get home? The very word, home, made my eyes fill. I squeezed them tight and bent my head over Charles, kissing the soft little crown of his head. It bobbed slightly as he sucked and swallowed hungrily. Home! I wanted to go home! I was so far away and all alone and sixteen did not feel so very grown up any more. I wanted my mother!
I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. I could never go home. It made me want to weep all the more, but I took a shaky breath and forced myself to smile down at baby Charles as though I was as carefree as a girl who has just enjoyed a walk in the royal gardens. I could feel Matriona’s scrutiny across the room. She had warned me not to go. But I was headstrong. I wanted to walk in the garden and I did. Mother always said I was stubborn, that it was bound to get me into trouble. And now I must face that trouble, and somehow survive it.
What would my mother tell me to do? She would know; she always had advice for me. I would follow it this time, by all the saints in heaven I would, if only she was here to give it!
“What troubles you, child?” Matriona asked, with a gentleness that nearly broke me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to weep against her breast like little Prince Louis did when he was over-fatigued. I wanted to tell her everything and have her tell me what to do.
But she was not my mother. She would be shocked and furious as Prince Robert had been, and she would wonder how my negligence would reflect on her. I shrugged and smiled carelessly—or so I hoped—and said, “I am a little homesick at times, but I am very fortunate to be here.” I nearly choked on the last, for my good fortune was nearly over, but it was something she had told me many times and sure to satisfy her.
The afternoon passed slowly. When the door opened I jumped, but it was only a kitchen servant with our dinner.
“Oh ho!” Matriona said, gloating over a swan-shaped pastry steaming with the rich scent of venison, and a large pudding topped with sprinkled sugar, as well as the usual fish and cheeses. “We dine like royalty tonight. Come and see, Prince Louis.” She looked at the servant. “Is there a feast in the castle tonight?”
“Not that I know of,” he mumbled, bobbing his head and glancing back at the door. “I’m wanted in the kitchen, Madame.”
When he left I saw a new man outside our door, guarding the nursery. Not the young guard who came in the evening, but a new day guard.
“Come and eat,” Matriona urged. I forced a few bites down but I was filled with a sick dread and could not do justice to the delicacies.
It was late in the evening when the door opened again. A man in royal livery walked in.
“What? What is it?” Matriona spluttered, half-undressed for bed behind the dressing screen.
“Madame Philippa,” the man said smartly. “Come with me.”
“Shall... could I bring something?” Surely they would let me gather my clothes and my cape before putting me outside the castle gates, or locking me in a cold prison?
The man frowned, then he sighed. “If you need to freshen your face or fix your hair, do so quickly.”
I shook my head sadly. What did I care what my hair looked like in prison? “May I at least bring my cape?”
He looked at me as though I was simple. “Get it then.”
I ran to take it from the peg and followed him out of the room. Matriona, her head sticking out the side of the screen, stared after us open-mouthed.
With every step we took I became more confused. Instead of taking me to the stairs he led me down a back hallway in the direction of the royal chambers. Unless I was mistaken and there was a smaller stairway leading directly to the dungeon? Was there a dungeon in Castle Nuovo? It was the royal residence, would they not put criminals somewhere else? Perhaps they were going to lock me in a room until they could transport me to Castle Capuano, where I had been told the worst villains were locked. I clutched my cloak to my chest as though it could protect me.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally found the courage to ask.
“Prince Robert has summoned you.”
I stopped abruptly. “Summoned me? Summoned me where?”
“To his chambers.”
“To his chambers? At this hour?”
The man looked back, his face twisted in a scornful grimace. Seeing me standing still he stopped also.
“Why?”
“He does not confide in me, Madame.” His frown turned into an unpleasant leer. “If you have no idea, I am sure I do not.”
When I made no response he scowled again. A servant in the nursery does not keep the Crown Prince waiting. He continued walking and I had no choice but to follow.
Not prison, then, although I might be going to hear my dismissal. But in person, from the Crown Prince of Naples? In his own chambers? I pictured his face again: And you—! Would he have me beaten in front of him? No, that was a foolish thought. If I were to be beaten it would be in the city square in mid-day, in front of everyone, with my crime read out first: Endangering the life of the eldest son of the Crown Prince, third in line to the throne.
I stumbled, managed to catch myself before falling. Enough! My mother would not waste her time trying to determine someone else’s plan. She would be using this time to form her own.
Should I throw myself on his mercy?
That would never be my mother’s advice. “Do not let him see you are afraid,” she told me when my father had been drinking and came into our hut and closed the door and untied the thick rope around the waist of his tunic. I stood as straight as her and looked him in the eye scornfully, and she was right: I was beaten far less than my sister Anya, who cowered and pleaded with him.
No pleading, then. Although whatever happens, I do not think I can look at Prince Robert scornfully. But I can stand straight and look him in the eye. After I curtsey, of course, and he gives me leave to rise.
The man stopped before a plain wooden door. He knocked once and opened it. I peeked in to see a small alcove that led into a larger chamber. A fire roared in the fireplace warming the room against the night chill, and two large chairs sat before it, with a small, ornate table between them on which sat a carafe and two mugs.
“Well? Go in!” the man hissed, giving me a push. I stumbled into the narrow alcove and heard the door shut behind me.
“Come forward.”
I moved toward the chamber slowly and dropped into a curtsey as soon as I saw Prince Robert
standing beside the fireplace. No one else was visible in the room.
“You may rise.”
I stood tall and straight and held my head high, as I had promised myself I would. With only a moment’s hesitation, I looked him in the eye. At the back of my thoughts, as steady as the beat of my heart, was the certain knowledge that I must not be turned out of this castle, for I had no where to go.
“How is my son?”
I blinked. He looked at me with an anxious frown. “Charles or Louis?” was all I could think to say.
“Louis, of course. Wait, is something wrong with Charles?”
“There is nothing wrong with either of them, Your Majesty. They are soundly asleep in their beds.”
“Louis was not afraid to go to bed? Did he startle at sudden noises, or cry out in his sleep?”
“No, Your Majesty. He was quite happy and ate a good dinner. He went to bed cheerfully as he always does.”
“Good.” Robert nodded to himself. “Good,” he repeated, smiling at me. “He did not mention this afternoon, then?”
Suddenly I understood. “He told his nurse his Papa had found him,” I said, tentatively returning his smile. “He seemed to feel she should be impressed. I am not certain whether in his mind the accomplishment was his or yours.”
Robert chuckled. “In this case I would call it his.” He dropped into one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Sit down, sit down. Would you like some wine?”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I murmured. My legs were shaking so much I sank rather than sat down in the chair. I realized a moment late that I was expected to pour the wine, and did so with some embarrassment at the delay, but he appeared not to have noticed. He was staring gloomily into the fire.
‘I am sorry for this afternoon.” He lifted his mug and took a large swallow of the wine without looking at me.
Sorry? Sorry because of what he must now do? I took a gulp from my own mug and started coughing. I had never drunk unwatered wine before and had not expected it to be so much stronger than ale. Its clear, fruity smell fooled me until it hit my throat, sharp and warming. I took a small second sip to stop my coughing and put the mug down so I could wipe my eyes.
“I have upset you. I was unreasonably angry.” He leaned toward me.
I wanted another drink but dared not touch the wine. “Please, Your Majesty...”
“No, I shall say this.” He sat back and looked into the fire. “I myself was lost and frightened once. As a child...” He took another sip of the wine still gazing at the fireplace. “I do not ever want my son to feel that way.”
I remembered the rumor of his imprisonment in Aragon. “Your father could not find you,” I said softly.
He looked at me, his face hard. “My father knew exactly where I was. It was he who put me there.”
I reached for my wine and took a gulp. Another fit of coughing, but I subdued it.
He gave a little shake of his head. “And now he has made me heir to the Kingdom of Naples.” He smiled indifferently. “As you so boldly pointed out to me, Fortune’s Wheel must turn and I am rising with it.”
“Your Majesty, I did not mean—”
“Of course you did. You cast your fortune with me. You told me that, as well. So now, what shall I do with you? If our fortunes are entwined, as you claim?”
It was my turn to look into the fire, hoping its flames would justify my rosy cheeks. “Forbid me to take Louis to the royal gardens?”
He laughed. “Well that, of course. But is it enough? I was unreasonably angry, but you were unreasonably careless.” He held up his hand to stop my protest, as if I would dare. “I know, you were in the royal gardens. There is little that can harm even a child there, and you were guarded. Still, my son was frightened.”
“He acted very bravely.”
Prince Robert observed me coolly. Wrong thing to say.
“Before I decide what to do I would like to know, are you a fortune-teller or a fortune-hunter?”
I took another quick drink. This time I only coughed once. I felt a pleasant buzz in my head that overrode my fear. What would my mother say? A fortune-teller was valuable, but some would call her a witch and burn her. A fortune-hunter was acceptable in a man, a man was supposed to be ambitious, but in a low-born girl?
“Both, Your Majesty,” I said. “And neither. I simply recognize what I am seeing, and act on what I know. How could you rise on Fortune’s Wheel without taking everyone who cleaves to you with you? I deeply regret that you now doubt me, but I cannot regret what happened. Prince Louis is sleeping soundly in his cot more fearless than ever, for he knows his father will always be there.” I bowed my head, trying to look both submissive and wise.
Prince Robert took my chin and turned my face to him.
How long we sat there staring at one another I do not know. I could have sat staring at him forever. Suddenly a log in the fire snapped, expelling a burst of sparks that made me jump.
“It is late,” the prince observed with a lazy smile. “Good night, Philippa of Catania. Take better care of my sons from now on.”
I curtseyed and made my way back through the door in the little alcove. My legs were shaking under my skirts and my chin burned where he had held it. I imagined that strong hand touching me again... I forced a neutral expression onto my hot face. The same man was waiting to take me to the nursery. He smiled at me unpleasantly. I gave him a sharp look until he realized that if what he was thinking was true, he would do best to keep on my good side.
“What happened?” Matriona demanded as soon as I stepped into the nursery.
“Nothing. He asked about his sons.”
She snorted. “If that was what he wanted, he would have sent for me.”
“It is the truth. Believe what you want.”
“I see that disappointment has made you irritable,” she said. “Perhaps you are not as pretty as you thought.”
I undressed in silence, thinking up a dozen angry retorts and biting them back. They would only convince her she was right. But when I hopped into bed and lay in the darkness under the blanket, the thought that filled my mind was of that long silent look Prince Robert gave me and I gave back in the intimate warmth of his fire.
I was so relieved at not being dismissed I could not hide it. Over the next few days I caught myself singing as I cared for the boys. Matriona sent me knowing glances which made me try to damp down my high spirits but any attempt to do so did not last. What shall I do with you? Prince Robert had asked. I began to daydream of a few things to suggest if he asked again.
Our dinner and evening meals continued to delight Matriona with cheeses formed in the shapes of flowers and the choicest cuts of meat, whole pigeons cooked into the breasts of hens and marzipan confections fashioned into cunning little animals. New marvels arrived on each platter.
“Someone in the kitchen likes you,” she began to tease me. I smiled and said I could not think who, which convinced her she had guessed my secret, and effectively diverted her suspicions from Prince Robert. He had met me walking in the courtyard with Louis (his little hand held tight in mine) and stopped to talk. On his suggestion the next day I took Louis to the palace menagerie. Prince Robert was there with Violante and her ladies and several young men in his court. They stopped to make a fuss over Louis. Prince Robert complimented me on my new green kirtle. His eyes had the same deep look we had shared at his fireside. There was something between us, I could feel it. I was certain he had given the order for the special creations sent from the kitchen for my pleasure.
As Charles grew he napped longer, which gave me more free time. Inside the castle I had to keep to the servants’ halls, but I was allowed to walk in the courtyard and visit the stables. I was not much interested in horses, but I soon learned when Prince Robert and his young noblemen left for the hunt, and when they returned.
Violante came to the nursery every day to play with the little princes. I made sure she would find me singing French songs to the boys, and whispered t
o them to go to her the instant I heard her voice at the door. Charles, at nearly one year old, would toddle after Louis who ran with a two-year-old’s exuberance, stopping just before his mother, suddenly shy, as she bent down to him. Meanwhile I would pick up my embroidery—Matriona was teaching me to do ladies’ needlework—and sit in the nursery like one of her ladies-in-waiting. I had taught the little princes that I would not play when I was at my needlework so they had learned not to approach me then. Violante had no cause to be jealous of their affection for me while she was visiting.
I was one of the first to notice the tiny swell of her belly, and after that made sure to compliment her health and appearance, for women are anxious when they are with child. As she neared her time, I noticed her paleness, the way her eyes darted restlessly about, like one of the sleek animals trapped in the royal menagerie.
“Do not distress yourself, Your Majesty. All will be well,” I murmured to her at the end of one visit, hoping to reassure her. She gripped my hands. “Will I be well, Philippa? Do you see it?” she asked urgently. She kept her voice low so as not to frighten the little princes standing nearby, but there was genuine terror in her eyes.
A chill went through me. She thought I was prophesying. I could tell by the shape of her womb and her gait that the infant was growing and healthy, I meant only that. But seeing the dread that filled her I could not correct her error. She would take that, too, as a prophecy. The prophecy comes true in the telling, because of the telling, my mother had told me. Praying that she was right, I nodded: “You will be well.”
Her look of gratitude and relief shamed me, but the words she said next were worse: “You shall come into confinement with me and deliver this child!”
“I... I would be honored to see you through your confinement, Your Majesty,” I stammered. “But I am not a midwife. There are better women for that than I, in Naples.”
“You will be my personal maid, then. And they will be told to obey you if... if...” Unable to finish she bent and kissed her sons and hurried out.
I stared at Matriona, astonished. Charles was nearly weaned and I had been hoping to stay in the nursery as a second nurse now that there would be three children. But lady’s maid to the Princess Violante? And not the least, but her personal maid? I could hardly believe it.
The Girl Who Tempted Fortune Page 12