States of Grace

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

PART III FRANZICCO RAGOCZY, CONTE DI SANTO-GERMANO Chapter 7

  By the end of the second day, the storm had reached the height of its fury; all over Venezia shutters remained closed while waves slapped and clambered at the landing steps, occasionally washing into campi, loggie, and kitchens; ships and boats and barges of all description were secured to pilings, moorings, and docks to keep them from being battered to pieces. Since the storm began, no boats had crossed the lagoon from the mainland, and in many households, food not secured from the sea was running low; roofs were studded with barrels to catch the precious fresh water even while the rain was decried.

  "I have authorized the cooks to take the smoked geese from the larder; there were complaints about the crab in cream that was served today-not enough herbs or onions to make it taste right," Ruggier informed di Santo-Germano as he entered his study, his entry bringing with it gelid tendrils of air that riffled the pages of the open books spread out on the trestle-table.

  "Until the green-grocers have new stock, and the spice-merchants, all Venezia may have to settle for blander dishes," said di Santo-Germano with a sympathetic ducking of his head.

  "There are a few tinctures of herbs in your laboratory that could be used. It wouldn't require much, but it could mean better tastes. I have already sent to your emporium to secure a box of pepper, and to the apothecary for a jar of garlic preserved in oil. " Ruggier made no apology for this extravagance, knowing di Santo-Germano would not object to it.

  "Excellent; the staff will have a fine prandium tomorrow. "

  "They would not eat so well in many another house," Ruggier said. "Being closely confined makes food a strong point of interest. "

  "So it does. It is a fussiness we may have to deal with for another day or so-by then we may hope the storm blows itself out; once the weather clears, everyone will be less cantankerous about everything; it's being forced to remain indoors that exacerbates their states of mind," di Santo-Germano approved, looking up from the square of paper he had been examining by the flickering light of the oil-lamps. "From the court: another postponement. "

  "In this weather, I am not surprised," said Ruggier. He had donned his Dutch huque; its lining of marten-fur made it the warmest garment he possessed, so that his appearance was in keeping with the heavy clothing all the household wore during this first tempest of winter. "How many times has the hearing been postponed now?"

  "This makes the sixth time," di Santo-Germano said.

  Ruggier frowned. "What are they waiting for?"

  "I have no notion, and my guesses are only that: guesses," said di Santo-Germano as he put the card down and set an alabaster jar on it to keep it in place. "Still, I guess that they are waiting for a witness or intelligence crucial to the matter. "

  "Or they are looking for ways to discredit your claim," Ruggier warned.

  "That is always possible," di Santo-Germano said with nettling urbanity.

  "Does none of this bother you?" Ruggier asked, more sharply than usual.

  "Of course it does," said di Santo-Germano. "It is supposed to vex me into doing something foolish. "

  "But who is doing it?" Ruggier pursued.

  "Ah-that is the sticking point, is it not," said di Santo-Germano ironically.

  Ruggier abandoned this fruitless line of inquiry, asking instead, "Has there been any more information on Leoncio Sen? Or Emerenzio, for that matter? Have either of them been found?"

  "Neither, so far as I know," said di Santo-Germano. He, too, was wearing Lowlands clothing: a long doublet of French velvet in silvershot black, with a chamarre of black wool lined in wolf-fur, knee-length barrel-hose, and tall, thick-soled boots of English leather, for although he, like Ruggier, did not feel the cold, he also knew that it was prudent to give the appearance of warding off chill. "I trust I present a creditable appearance, even in these northern clothes. "

  "Are you expecting anyone?" Ruggier asked, indicating the garments di Santo-Germano wore.

  "No; I am going out; this storm has brought an early winter, but that does not alter my appointments," said di Santo-Germano, and shook his head as he saw the dubiety in Ruggier's countenance. "Do not be dismayed, old friend. I am going to Pier-Ariana's house; I can reach it along the walkways and bridges-I need not take to the water, except that falling from the sky. "

  "Fortunately you have a new lining of your native earth in your soles, or this storm would vitiate you. " Ruggier's face revealed very little of his thoughts. "Rain in Venezia must be a double tribulation. "

  "That they are," di Santo-Germano agreed.

  "I don't suppose you would consider postponing your visit? Tomorrow the rain should slack off, and the winds drop. " Ruggier gave di Santo-Germano a respectful scrutiny.

  Di Santo-Germano made a gesture of polite resignation. "She is expecting me. She has set up her music room and would like me to see it. "

  Ruggier made no comment about this plan, saying only, "Have you some notion when you might return?"

  "After sundown, and before nine-of-the-clock, unless the winds pick up again," he replied. "You may have one of the pages wait for me, if you think it wise. "

  "Why should it not be wise?" Ruggier asked.

  "We are still under observation, with or without the storm. " Di Santo-Germano reached for his long riding-cloak of boiled wool and pulled it around his shoulders. "I will assume someone is keeping track of me when I am outside this house. This storm is not enough to keep the spies away. "

  "And there are some who keep track of you when you are inside, as well," Ruggier said, a knowing lift to his brows.

  "You have discovered something new?" di Santo-Germano inquired, pausing in his departure.

  "I have," said Ruggier. "The newest footman-Camillo?-has been asking a great many questions of the other servants, and has been found trying to open the door to your laboratory. "

  "Are you certain it was he?" di Santo-Germano asked with a suggestion of a weary sigh.

  "Yes. I must assume he reports to someone of importance, perhaps one of the Savii, or a Consiglier," said Ruggier. "I doubt he answers to the Doge. "

  "And I. It may also be he is a familiar of the court, or of the Church. " Di Santo-Germano straightened his narrow ruff.

  "Yes, my master, for Pompeo, the second cook, is the Doge's man," Ruggier agreed.

  For a short while di Santo-Germano remained unmoving, then he said, "Well, whomever he serves, we can do little about it now. Enemy or ally, Camillo cannot be removed without repercussions. You know how to deal with such men-you have done it often in the past. I leave you to do as you think best, for the good of all the household. " He pinched out all but one of the oil-lamps, leaving wavering trails of pale smoke rising from the wicks. "I doubt there is much to be done but endure his presence, at least until the hearing is over. "

  Ruggier ducked his head. "I will manage him as propitiatorially as I am able. "

  "Thank you," said di Santo-Germano, and went to the door. "I will speak to you when I return. " He grabbed his soft seal-leather cap and set it firmly on his head.

  "I trust you will," said Ruggier, and nodded his farewell.

  Crossing the loggia of his house, di Santo-Germano was aware of two pair of eyes following him; he did not slow his stride as he made for the door onto the Campo San Luca, bending into the wind as he closed the door behind him; his cloak bellied and whipped as the wind-angled rain struck it. The midafternoon was so dark that the only light seemed to come from the glistening rain; the few figures out-of-doors looked like smudges of black amid a world of gray. Di Santo-Germano tugged his cloak more tightly around him as he shoved his shoulder into the wind and started on his way. He crossed the bridge over the Rivi San Salvatore and went along to the Merceria, then turned northeast to the Campo Santa Maria Formosa and an alley on the east side of the campo. He went to
the third door along the narrow passage and knocked twice on the door, then waited for an answer.

  "Who is here on such a night?" demanded a voice from inside the house. "Whom do you wish to see?"

  "It is di Santo-Germano. Your mistress is expecting me," he answered, raising his voice to be heard over the wailing wind and the tattoo of the rain.

  "I did not think you would venture out in this weather. Allow me a moment. " There was a pause, and then the bolt was drawn back and the door was opened by Palma da San Ghirgione, who studied di Santo-Germano carefully. "She said you would come, Conte. "

  "I am pleased that she knows me so well," said di Santo-Germano, stepping through the door, then leaning against it to help the houseman secure it against the relentless wind, for he was a smallish man over forty, and nearing the end of his working days. "Where is Bondama Salier?" He used this most courteous form intentionally, to make his high regard for Pier-Ariana obvious to her servant.

  "You will find her on the floor above, in the room on the northwest corner of the house," Palma told him in his best impressive tone.

  Di Santo-Germano offered the white-haired man a disarming smile. "Thank you. I will go up to her. " He shed his cloak, handing it to the houseman. "If you will find a place where this can dry?"

  Palma accepted the cloak with a hint of annoyance. "And your hat, Conte?"

  Removing it, di Santo-Germano offered it to Palma. "A fine suggestion. "

  "I will hang it in the kitchen, near the stove. "

  Di Santo-Germano indicated his approval before he went toward the stairs and began his upward climb. On the landing he picked up one of two oil-lamps set on a long, narrow table; this he bore up with him, watching the heavy shadows retreat before it. He left the oil-lamp on a table matching the one on the landing before going on to the northwest corner of the house, where he heard virginals being played. While he waited for a silent moment, he smiled, realizing this was a new piece. The music was at once spritely and wistful. When the phrase came to an end, he tapped on the door.

  "Enter," said Pier-Ariana, sounding a bit distracted.

  He did as she requested, standing by the door once he closed it, watching her write the musical passage on a score-sheet. When she put the pen aside and reached for the sand, he said, "That was a very moving passage; I hope you will play the whole song for me. "

  She looked up so sharply that she spilled a more generous portion of sand onto the paper than she intended. "Di Santo-Germano! You startled me. " She was dressed for warmth more than beauty, her somewhat old-fashioned Padovan gonella made of handsome, forestgreen Fiorenzan wool, with the outer sleeves buttoned from shoulder to wrist over a guimpe of substantial Tana cotton. Her red-gold hair was covered with a chaplet of blue-green satin. Looking down at her clothes, she said, "I should have changed into something more suitable. " She got up from the table on which her virginals and her paper were set, taking care not to overset the standish of ink.

  "On a day such as this, you are most suitably dressed," he said, coming to her side and embracing her.

  "You caught me unaware," she protested, both chiding and flirtatious as she put her arms around his neck.

  His smile made his dark eyes appear luminous. "How should I do that? I supposed you were expecting me. "

  "I was. I am. But the storm being what it is-" She leaned against him. "I thought you might not come. "

  "But I have," he said.

  All her discomfiture left her, leaving behind a welling anticipation of passion. "Si, Conte mio, you have," she breathed, opening her lips to his as his arms circled her waist, his small hands spread out across her back. Their kiss began temptingly enough, but it developed into a precipitate rush of passion that brought a deepening thrill to their embrace. As she finally broke away, Pier-Ariana was feeling a trifle light-headed. "I . . . I don't know what to say. "

  He held her easily but in a protective manner. "You need say nothing, Pier-Ariana," he said softly.

  "I had thought to spend an hour or so here, playing for you, and then we might retire to my apartments, but"-she looked up at him wistfully-"perhaps we might . . . "

  "Retire first, and you will play afterward?" He kissed her brow. "Whatever pleases you must please me. "

  Color mounted in her face. "Whatever?"

  "With the exception of anything that degrades or harms you, yes, whatever," he answered. "To the limits of my capabilities. "

  Her glance was eloquent, revealing longing, need, desire, and uncertainty. "I don't know what your limits, or my limits, are. "

  Two thousand years ago, this admission might have distressed him: now he drew her close to him; his laughter was low and tantalizing. "You know the most obvious of my limitations, and that has not seemed to trouble you. "

  "You mean that you do not . . . take your pleasure of me as most men would do?" She could not bring herself to meet his eyes. "You have given me such gratification as I thought never to find-I fear that I have not returned the same to you. " This last came out in a rush, as if she had to speak quickly or lose her nerve.

  "Since I share in what you experience, how could I not be wholly gratified?" He lifted the back of her chaplet and touched the nape of her neck, his fingers delicate as petals, yet igniting ephemeral fire.

  "You say you seek the blood because the blood is the unique essence of who I am. I hope that is so. God save me! I hope it is so. " She kept her head averted, trying not to be distracted by the sorcery his fingers worked on her neck. "And if it is, I could not begrudge you any, if it meant you took all. "

  "My appetite is small, Pier-Ariana. Half of what would fill a winegoblet will suffice me," he said calmly. "It has before. "

  "Still," she murmured. "If you asked for more, it would be yours. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay. "

  Over the wind there was a loud clatter as something-probably a shutter-fell into the narrow passage outside the house, then clapped its way along the paving-stones.

  "Then it is fortunate for you that I will not ask it. " There was a note of concern in his words now, and he took her face in his hand to allow him to look directly at her. "I have no wish for your gratitude; I have said so before and nothing is changed. "

  "You called it poison," she said. "I haven't forgot. "

  "Then what troubles you, Pier-Ariana?"

  She pressed her lips together. "You said I would become what you are when I die, since we have lain together now eight times. That when I died, I would live again, not in Heaven or Hell, but here on earth; that I would live as you live, from the blood and the intimacy with others. " She coughed restively, aware of how she must sound to him. "I know you told me what it means to be one of your blood, and I am trying to comprehend it; if that is what must be, then I will be content. "

  "It does not seem so to me," said di Santo-Germano, kindness in every aspect of his demeanor.

  "I don't want to offend you," she said abruptly. "I don't mean to say anything against you. "

  "Anything you might say, I have heard before," he told her, feeling weariness to the depths of his marrow; he removed her chaplet and stroked her hair. "And worse than you could ever think. "

  "I am embarrassed," she admitted.

  "Because you have doubts about your decision?" He knew his guess had been accurate when he saw the flash in her eyes.

  "Yes and no," she said after a brief silence, beginning as she had rehearsed it during the night. "Never doubt I want your love, the exultation of my senses you provide, and I want to know the hearts of men as you do those of women. But I don't know if I can sustain the loneliness you endure. That is what worries me. It is hard enough, being a woman alone, on my own-as much as I may be without money or property. But what happens when my family is all gone, and my friends, and anyone I know or have met?"

 
"There is anguish in long life, and this is the heart of it," he said, kissing her brow.

  She shot him a shame-faced look, forcing herself to continue. "You have done all that you can to ameliorate my situation-far more than I have any right to expect, but the laws of the state and faith declare that there are limits to what I can be given, even by you; therefore nothing you have done for me is wholly in my control, or in fact mine: if another Emerenzio should gain-"

  "I have taken steps to be certain that will not happen," said di Santo-Germano.

  "If you are not in Venezia, it could-it might," she said. "I would so much rather be making love than-But your hearing may deprive you of your property here, and you may have to leave Venezia-"

  "What do you mean?" he interjected.

  This was harder for her to answer. "While you were gone, a demanding young man pursued me, threatening to arrange for me to lose everything if I rejected him," she confessed, her stare fixed on the nearest oil-lamp. "I gave him no encouragement, Conte. You must believe I did not. "

  "I do believe you," he said gently.

  She studied his face. "I hope so," she murmured, looking away again. "He said you would not be able to keep me, and indeed, you were not. " Before he could speak, she hurried on, "I know it wasn't your doing, but I was abandoned nonetheless, and without my cousin I have no reason to suppose that I would not be reduced to penury. Leoncio said it would happen again, and again, until you were driven from Venezia. "

  A sustained blast of wind made the windows shudder in their lozenge-shaped frames, and the shutters over them flick together like soldiers' drums or the wings of angry bees.

  "Leoncio Sen said this to you?" Di Santo-Germano strove to keep his words composed.

  "Yes. And now he is missing, and some say it is your doing. " She went pale. "If you are put in prison, I will be cast on the world again. My cousin will not take me back, and no other relative would welcome me after my life here. So there is only the Church left to protect me, and di Santo-Germano, I have no aptitude for the life of a nun. "

  Di Santo-Germano held her as she wept. "Pier-Ariana, do not fear. No matter what becomes of me, you will be provided for. I have made not one but two arrangements for your housing and care, and if one fails, the other will not. " He was glad now that he had sent instructions and funds to Rudolph Eschen designated for Pier-Ariana if anything should happen to him. "But there will be no need for these second funds, I am certain. "

  She sniffed, trying to stop her tears, her voice muffled by the small kerchief she had taken from her corsage. "It galls me that I should be so frightened; it is because I have so much to lose. I am too old to be a whore, and Signor' Boromeo cannot afford to support me for the sake of Eclipse Press. "

  "Probably not," said di Santo-Germano, and again turned her to face him. "But you will not be cast, poor and friendless, upon the world: not now, and not after you come to my life. "

  "I thank you for all you have done," she said, and faltered.

  "Do not say you are grateful once more, I beg you," di Santo-Germano said tenderly, his fingertip tracing the curve of her brow, her cheek, her chin.

  She almost managed to laugh, but the end of it collapsed into another burst of sobbing. "Oh, I ask your pardon," she managed to say. "What a preposterous woman you must think me. I hate this. "

  "That you should cry?" He bent his head to kiss her upper lip, lightly but with a heat that matched her own. "I wish I had yours to shed. I lost tears along with the rest when I returned from death. "

  It took Pier-Ariana a short while to comprehend what he had said. "Truly? You do not weep? Not ever?"

  "Not since I came to this life," he said.

  "That's hideous, not to cry. " She hugged him fiercely. "How can you endure it?"

  "Because I must," he said, continuing in a more compelling tone. "That is one of the reasons why I value intimacy so highly, and why I seek it-as you will learn to. "

  "So I may weep?"

  "So you may feel," he said. "So you may not lose your humanity. "

  She regarded him in silence, still clasping him tightly. "So that is why you do what you do. "

  "And why I have no need of your gratitude," he said with such compassion that her eyes stung.

  "If you tell me you do not want it, then you shall not have it," she promised, and kissed him, all her passion in the kiss, made more intense by its serenity than her tempestuous kisses had been.

  "We should go to your apartments," he suggested as she released him.

  "No. Here. In my favorite room. With the instruments to remind us. " She shrugged abruptly. "Besides, my bedroom is draughty, and today, that wouldn't pleasure me. " She reached under her arm to untie the lacing there. "If you'll unfasten the sleeves?"

  "Certainly," he said, reaching for the three brooches that held the left sleeve to the garment. He was aware that she preferred not to mix lovemaking with dressing and undressing, so he remained pragmatic while she worked to shed her outer garments. "Where do you want me to put these?"

  "On the table next to the virginals," she said, tugging the sleeve down her arm and dropping it on the carpet.

  He unfastened the other sleeve and pulled it free; he put the brooches and sleeve on top of the score-paper, then took her gonella as she wriggled it over her head. This he dropped over the back of her playing chair. "Where now?"

  "The couch in front of the fireplace," she said, indicating the small hearth opposite the windows. "Take the pillows off the window-seat. "

  "As you wish," he said, going to do as she asked. Bringing the six pillows of various sizes to the couch, he put them down in a pattern to ensure her comfort. "Will this do?"

  "Oh, yes," she said, standing in her guimpe; being designed for winter-wear, it reached almost to her knees. She rushed the couch and flung herself backward on it, the pillows cushioning her impact. "I like this. It is like the decadent East, where women lie about on pillows all day and read poetry. "

  Di Santo-Germano said nothing to dispel her image of Oriental women; he came to the side of the couch and went down on one knee to be more level with Pier-Ariana; he drew off her house slippers and winter leggings and set them down at the end of the couch, then moved up its length again. "How splendid you are, Pier-Ariana," he said as he pulled the ivory pins from her hair and spread it over the pillow behind her head.

  She tried to remain composed, but a hint of a grin slipped out the corners of her mouth. "You are kind to say so, Conte. "

  Slowly he began to stroke her calves and feet, taking his time to learn the texture and contours of her limbs. "You have magnificent skin. " He bent and kissed the arch of her foot, then, ever so lightly, slid her guimpe upward, exposing most of her thighs; while she quivered in anticipation, he bent down and pressed his lips to the inside of her knees.

  "Here; let me help you," she said, and pushed herself up on one elbow in order to get out of her guimpe, which she cast onto the floor without hesitation or care. "Now. I'm ready. "

  "No; you are not," he said, amusement and desire coloring his voice. "In time you will be. "

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. "But I'm getting cold," she exclaimed.

  "That will not do," he said, and moved over the top of her, leaving only a tiny space between them, just enough room to allow him to slide his hand in to caress her, starting with her shoulders and making his way deliciously down to her breasts.

  As her arousal heightened, she began to make a low, purring sound, ardent and content at once. Her body became pliant, ductile, and more exoptable than she had believed possible. Gradually his searching of her flesh became more fervid as she gave herself over to the rapture she felt surge within her. It was as if he had ignited tiny, ecstatic fires everywhere he touched her, and as the seraphic conflagration immersed all her senses, she
succumbed to a release that began in the core of her body and spread to the farthest reaches of her soul while di Santo-Germano encompassed all her passion in the haven of his arms. She strove to find words for what had just transpired, but could only say, "The fur on your collar tickles. "

  Di Santo-Germano took off his chamarre and wrapped it around her shoulders, shifting his posture so that they lay side by side amid the pillows on the couch. "You gave me a remarkable gift, Pier-Ariana. "

  "Nothing you haven't had before," she reminded him.

  "No; this time you gave me all of yourself-there is no treasure greater than that. "

  She mused over this, and said, "Then in some way, I have had all of you, as well?"

  "I hope so," he said, kissing her closed eyes.

  If she was aware that his response was indirect, she did not question it; she lay back on the pillows, the wolf-fur of his chamarre and his nearness blending with the fire to warm her into sleep.

  Text of a letter from James Belfountain in Calais, France, to Grav Saint-Germain, in care of Conte di Santo-Germano, in Venezia, written in English and delivered eleven days after it was sent.

  To the most excellent Count of Saint-Germain, in the care of his kinsman, di Santo-Germano at the Campo San Luca, Venice, the greetings of James Belfountain, on this, the 19thday of October, 1531, from Calais, and entrusted to Yeoville to carry to you on his way south to Rome.

  First, Count, I wish to reassure you that the strongbox and documents you entrusted to me and four of my men has been successfully delivered to Rudolph Eschen, advocate in Amsterdam. I have his receipt enclosed with this letter, and his acknowledgment of your instructions in regard to various Venetian ventures. I thank you for entrusting me and my men with this mission, for work has been hard to find of late, what with many seeking our services also demanding religious uniformity of one sort or another, a guarantee I am unable to make. Between the demands of those offering employment, and the siphoning off of my men to one divine's army or guard, or the Pope's forces, my Company is sadly depleted. I have not more than twenty men left, and most of them are planning to depart. Your generosity has made it possible for me to send my men away with enough money to assure them, with a little prudence, that they will make it through the winter.

  I have been summoned home to England. It appears that my next-older brother has been disinherited and disowned by my father, a development I learned of only a few months ago, and now my eldest brother has died of a fever, and I have become the heir In order to reconcile with my father as much as I am able to, I am now preparing to take ship, in the hope that when I finally assume his title and his responsibilities, I will have a good understanding of what I must do. Timothy Mercer is coming with me, to be my guard and companion as I make my way to Derbyshire. I will be glad to have a familiar face with me, for I feel I may be a stranger when I reach my native shore.

  It will be disquieting to see the family again, for I have not laid eyes upon any of them for all of sixteen years. You, as a much-traveled man, know what it is to be long away from a place, and doubtless you will understand that my elation is mixed with anxiety. I am sure both will pass in time. What might not pass is all the habits I have acquired in the last dozen years of fighting for hire. The family have asked that I make no specific mention of my Company, and I will try to oblige them, but I fear that may be harder to do than anyone-including myself-supposes.

  I would like to express my appreciation to you for your openhandedness and your reliability during our various associations. If ever you should be in England, you will always be welcome at Baxbury Poges; I do not suppose you will visit, though, not with King Henry and the Pope at such loggerheads as they are. At least this dispute is about a woman, and not about God's meaning in His Word.

  With my assurance of my high regard,

  I sign myself for the last time,

  James Belfountain