Nicholas: The Lords of Satyr (11 page)

Since that day, he’d never wanted for willing females to warm his cock. He had explored many avenues of gratification, some he was well aware his conservative peers in society would consider shocking or even aberrant. However, as long as a woman was of an age and willing, he placed no limits on what passed between them.

Over the years, it had been gratifying to discover how bold females could be, how amenable to suggestion. At least, a certain type of woman.

Such pleasant memories had his cock stiffening to the point of discomfort within his trousers. He glanced at his timepiece, willing the hours to pass so he could again approach his new wife’s bed.

H
e’d shielded himself from her. It was Jane’s first thought upon awakening the morning after her wedding night. Normally, at such close quarters she’d have been unable to stop herself from melding. Somehow he’d prevented it. Or was she simply gaining some control over the ability?

She removed her nightgown and examined the rusty streaks on the back of the skirt. Blood. Her inclination was to scrub the stain away. But her aunt had bade her save this evidence of her virginity as proof, should her husband require it. She wadded the garment and stuffed it into the far corner of a drawer.

A maid appeared to draw her bath. Jane instructed her that she would bathe in privacy and slipped behind the screen to do so.

She found herself moving somewhat gingerly. The worst soreness was naturally in the area where her husband had joined himself to her. But her body also ached in other unusual places due to the unaccustomed exercise.

Embarrassed to think the maid might notice, she dismissed her after dressing. Then she practiced walking before her mirror, making sure not to grimace or stride in an ungainly manner. It wouldn’t do for her difficulties to be observed by anyone.

Jane half dreaded an encounter with her husband. How did one act with a stranger after having seen him naked? Even more to the point, after he’d seen her thus? Would the memory of what they had done together be in his eyes?

She measured out the herbs she must take each morning to prevent her husband’s seed from taking root in her. Sprinkling them in a glass of water, she swallowed it, wincing at the bitter taste.

When hunger drove her to seek breakfast, she left her chamber and went downstairs. She peeked into several rooms along the hall, finding that many housed collections of various sorts.

In the sala grande, she found numerous displays of flasks, amphorae, and urns. These artifacts mingled with newer items of obvious expense. All were relics of her husband’s winemaking trade.

Another room held alabaster carvings, shards of pottery and glass, exquisite shells and geodes. Yet another housed a full-sized stone sarcophagus carved with scenes of an afterlife imagined by ancient Etruscans. There were classic busts with pompous expressions, sections of frescoed fragments dating back centuries, and gold florins stamped with lilies.

It appeared her husband was a collector of treasures and curiosities. She could almost imagine herself in a museum!

Downstairs Jane found herself in a large circular-shaped salon della feste. A dozen evenly spaced windowed alcoves rose to a balcony and then beyond to meet in the center of the domed ceiling. Empty sideboards sat along one wall, and the dining table was bare. Judging by the sun, it was nearly noon. She rarely slept so late and had likely missed breakfast.

Still, she was unusually ravenous. Where was the staff?

She ventured in a northerly direction and opened a door to what turned out to be the kitchen. Inside she found a number of servants bustling about. Every one of them paused in their work, silenced by her entrance.

“Buona mattina, signora.”

Startled, she whirled to find a male servant standing in the doorway behind her. She recognized him as the one who had ordered her trunks upstairs last night.

“I’m Signore Faunus, the estate manager,” he said, bowing and moving past her in that sprightly two-step way of his. “My duties include oversight of the other servants and personal attention to Lord Satyr. And of course to any members of his family residing here at Blackstone. If you require anything day or night, you are to please let me know.”

Though he spoke formally and treated her with deference, the servant had an agelessness about him, and a hint of mischief twinkled deep in his eyes. The upper curves of his ears rose slightly to points, lending an elfin quality to his features.

“I see. Thank you, Signore Faunus. I wonder if you could tell me. Is—is his lordship still about?”

“The master is out and left instructions that dinner be delayed for his late return this evening.”

“Grazie,” she replied, reddening at the absurdity of a servant knowing more of a husband’s schedule than his own wife.

It annoyed her that Nick had left neither word of his whereabouts nor any indication regarding what she should attempt to accomplish during his absence.

“May I get anything for you from the kitchen, signora?” Signore Faunus asked.

“Yes, some lunch,” she decided suddenly. “I’m going for a walk.”

He snapped his fingers at one of the maids, and she stepped forward. “I will leave you in good hands.” He bowed again and took his leave.

“A picnic lunch?” the maid ventured, once he’d gone.

Jane nodded. “Nothing elaborate. Cheese, bread, and fruit?”

“Si, si, I will see to it,” the maid said, rushing to gather the makings.

While she waited, Jane studied the kitchen. Running a household wasn’t her forte; however, she supposed she would get used to it once she dove in. But she would spend today acclimating to her new surroundings without the burden of duties. There would be time enough in the upcoming weeks to determine how best to use her days as she adjusted to her new role.

Below a long shelf burdened with copper pots, she noticed a board fastened to the wall, with small round metal tags hanging upon it. She bent closer and saw that each tag was numbered. There were many slots, but only six were currently occupied with tags. What were they for?

“Your lunch, signora,” said the maid. As she thanked her, Jane saw she wore one of the tags on her apron. But the maid curtsied and scurried off before she could ask about it.

Jane left the house by the kitchen door and was amazed to find herself stepping into a verdant paradise. The gardens and fountains here had obviously been painstakingly designed by some long-ago arborist.

A splendid mosaic floor encircled the base of a burbling fountain, extending nearly twenty feet out from its sides to form a large courtyard. In the center of the fountain, a mischievous Pan stood playing his pipes in peaceful solitude.

She walked the perimeter of the tile floor and saw that it told a mythical history of the House of Satyr. Ships, warriors, fantastic beasts—all were depicted in a continuous frieze of jewel-colored chips set in plastered stone.

Several paths spoked from the mosaic, ribboning outward into expanses of greenery dotted with statues. She chose one lined with lemon trees in terra-cotta pots and shaded by statuesque oaks.

Anxious to explore, she left the path at some point and threaded her way through a sloping carpet of wildflowers. Pheasants strolled about the lawn in haughty jerks, and gazelles leaped past. An iridescent blue-green peacock strutted by, drawing her attention.

At length, she turned to view the castello below. How different its rear facade was from that of the entrance! From the road, it had appeared a forbidding fortress. Yet here, all was delightful. It was as though the castello had two faces—one that repelled, one that welcomed.

Though she hadn’t intended to go so far today, she felt the urge to venture on. Leaving manicured hedges behind, she stepped under the leafy canopy of a tangled forest. Overhead, parrots, jays, and rooks flapped their wings and cawed at her intrusion.

She surveyed the forest floor, searching. Here and there, she came across patches of mistletoe, blackberry, juniper, betony, chicory, fennel, rosemary, and saffron. All were plants with magical powers. None were allium moly.

Eventually she sat on a large, flat rock to eat her lunch. At her feet she noticed a grouping of plants unlike any she’d ever seen. She crouched to inspect one of them more closely. It was somewhat bedraggled from the ravages of winter. With a brush of her fingertips she melded, breathing new life into it. The invigoration traveled several yards in each direction, brightening and enlivening. She rocked back on her heels, astonished. One simple touch had never traveled so far before.

An odd sensation of being weighed and evaluated in some way settled over her. Glancing around, she saw no one.

She heard a rustling sound and looked ahead. The trail that had beckoned her forward only moments ago had somehow disappeared! It was as though the trees had closed in to seal off the path and prevent her from invading farther. Only the path behind her lay open.

“I mean no harm,” she murmured.

Her way remained closed. She had no choice but to turn back.

When she returned to the castello, Jane was surprised to find she’d pulled three fronds as long as her arm from a patch of ferns.

In the doorway, she swept them across the kitchen step and murmured:

Banish evil with this spell.

Protecting all who herein dwell.

Embarrassed, she tossed the fronds outside and slammed the door on them.

“Foolishness,” she muttered. “As if all it took was a broom of ferns.”

Since Nick was to return late for dinner, she sought another activity.

“Would you direct me to the library?” she inquired of the first servant she came across.

“But the library door is closed, signora.”

“Locked, you mean?”

The maidservant shook her head. “No, signora. ’Tis only closed.”

“Then direct me to it, and I shall open it,” said Jane, somewhat perplexed.

The maid looked scandalized. “But Signore Faunus says a closed door is never to be opened in this house. No matter what sort of curious noises issue from behind it.”

Jane’s eyebrows rose. Curious noises? Whatever was she speaking of?

The maid’s eyes flicked to the window and back. “Pardon me, signora, but it grows dusk.”

Jane looked toward the window, thoroughly confused. Grapevines and olive trees were silhouetted on the hill. Behind them, the sun was setting in strands of vivid orange.

The maid backed toward the door, curtseying with every other step. “I must go. I return in the morning.”

Jane straightened in surprise. “Return? You don’t live on the estate?”

Now it was the maid’s turn for surprise. “No, signora. The master has provided separate quarters for the staff on the outskirts of the estate.”

“Separate quarters for all of them?” she asked. She’d never heard of such a thing.

“Yes, signora. We all go. Well, all excepting Signore Faunus. And the master. They stay on overnight.”

The maid fingered the numbered metal tag at her collar. It was like those Jane had seen on the board near the kitchen door.

“Why do you wear that?”

The girl looked at the tag and back at Jane. “No one is allowed on the grounds without a tag.” She glanced at Jane’s chest and colored. “I mean, of course, excepting you and the master. We don our numbers in the morning when we arrive and leave them behind at night when we depart.”

“I’ve heard that miners wear such tags before going into the mine shafts. They must be returned to the board at the end of each day to ensure they have made it safely out.”

The maid looked blank. “I don’t know about the mines. Here, we hang our tags on the board so Signore Faunus and the master know from the count that all are gone and they are private again.”

“And Lord Satyr’s brothers? Does their staff operate in the same manner?”

“Yes, signora. Their servants share our quarters. All the staff arrives at dawn and departs by dusk each day.”

The maid was now shifting her weight from one foot to the other, appearing dreadfully anxious to depart.

Jane took pity and dismissed her.

The girl rushed toward the kitchen, already unpinning her tag, as if the hounds of hell barked at her heels. What in the world did she imagine would befall her were she to linger past dark?

Jane found the library on her own and held her breath as she let herself in. When nothing unusual happened, she chided herself for letting the maid’s nonsense affect her.

Inside, she was pleased to see that her husband’s interest in collecting extended to his library. She ran her hands over the gilded leather bindings of books, old and new, shelved in paneled wood bookcases.

A work titled
Curative and Medicinal Herbs and Plants of the Ancient Romans
caught her eye, and she mulled it for some time before replacing it. Other volumes took her interest, but it was difficult to concentrate on one when so many things in the room begged to be studied.

Files with wide, shallow drawers held archival documents detailing centuries of the daily workings of her husband’s estate as well as the surrounding hill towns. In other drawers, she found treatises by Byzantine scholars and contracts for the sale of wine from the time of the great Medici family. She vowed to return to them another day when she had more time.

Atop an intricately carved table, an assortment of urns on display drew her attention. Black designs on a golden background decorated the exterior of one tall, handled vase. A border of stylized grape clusters entwined with olive branches ringed its top edge, and below that stood various figures in black silhouette. They were similar to the ones she’d seen on vessels in the more public regions of the castello, but her cheeks flushed when she noticed startling differences.

Pan playing his pipes was easily identified in the group. It was the other figures—naked, bearded men—that she found shocking. They were fantastic creatures with furred flanks and wild hair and eyes. A thin, undulating tail sprang from the tailbone of each, while an impressive phallus curved upward from the crux of their thighs.

A large, wide-mouthed, terra-cotta bowl was displayed alone, as though it had particular value. She knelt to examine it and saw it was decorated in the reverse—pale figures sculpted in bas-relief were silhouetted upon a dark background. Here, males and females cavorted and drank with abandon. Arms outflung, their expressions varied from ecstatic to demonic. One male held a wineskin to the lips of a female while another copulated with her from behind. In his enthusiasm, the artist had endowed this man beast with a dual set of phalluses, one set just above the other!

Jane swallowed audibly. She turned away and distracted herself from the disturbing scenes by milling through the bookshelves. When she found the rare volumes 12–19 from Greek botanist Pliny the Elder’s
Historia Naturalis
, her attention was caught.