The Creation Of Eve (21 page)

My Lady reached for a prayer book in the neat stack of them Upon Dona Juana's dressing table and began to turn its colorful pages. "How beautifully this is illuminated," she murmured.

"Inquisitor-General Valdes brought them," said Dona Juana. "Do take one."

"The art was done by the friars of the Monastery of San Jeronimo in Madrid," said Inquisitor-General Valdes. "I prefer the work of the clergy to lay painters. I believe the lay painter's impurity taints his art--yoUr work excluded, my dear," he said to me.

Gooseflesh rose on my arms. I knew who he was--I had seen him presiding over the burning at the
auto-de-fe
--but I did not expect him to know me.

"I think the work of a virgin is the most God-given and pure of all," he said. "Think of the Blessed Virgin. Just as she was the vessel to bear our Christ, you, with no stain of sin Upon you, are a vessel to bear God's Beauty."

I curtseyed, my skin prickling.

"How your work shines brightly in contrast with the work of your master." He chuckled when he saw my surprise. "Oh, I know you studied with Michelangelo Buonarroti. It is my business to know everything."

Dona Juana offered the Inquisitor-General a tray of marzipan. He leaned forward, the leather of his chair groaning, and, pinky raised, chose a piece shaped like a cross. He settled back with his treat. "I know there are many who esteem Michelangelo's work, but
I
find it Ugly and obscene. No number of sculptures of the Blessed Virgin holding her crucified Son can make Up for the naked men your Italian friend exults in carving. Does he think persons do not notice? And his paintings--his women look like men! Why is that so, Sofonisba Anguissola?" He popped the sweetmeat into his mouth and smiled kindly.

A shout preceded the sound of footsteps outside the chamber. The Inquisitor-General, breathing through his mouth as he munched, turned heavily as the King's guards stood aside at the door for the King to enter.

"Inquisitor-General Valdes," said the King. "A pleasure." He offered his hand for the Inquisitor to kiss, embraced his sister, and then his wife. I saw the Queen's triumphant glance at dona Eufrasia when the King kept his arm around her.

"We were just having a discussion about art," said Inquisitor-General Valdes. "I have asked dona Sofonisba to explain why her friend Michelangelo paints his women to look like men."

The King half frowned at me. "What 's this?"

"The virgins, the sybils, Eve," said the Inquisitor. "All the women in the paintings in the Sistine Chapel look like men. The female attributes have been attached to them as if a filthy afterthought."

A cold knot squeezed in my chest. Where was this leading?

Dona Juana murmured her disgust. "Oh, yes," said Inquisitor-General Valdes. "I have had accurate copies of these paintings brought before Us. So why do you think he does this, dona Sofonisba?"

"Your Grace," I said, nauseated, "I do not know."

The King stroked the Queen's arm. "It is easily explainable, Your Grace."

His breath whistling through his spongy nose, the Inquisitor-General revolved slowly toward the King. "Yes?"

"I assume Michelangelo Uses only male models."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," said the Inquisitor, "this does not fully account for it.
All
male artists use only male models. Women cannot stand for a male artist Unless it is for a portrait--I need to hear of it, if they do."

Dona Juana put down the tray and plucked up her own piece of marzipan. She aimed her rounded brow at me, her eyes icy blue beneath her dust-colored lashes. "We are investigating accusations that have been made. Is there anything you can tell Inquisitor-General Valdes, Sofonisba, anything improper you noticed while studying with Michelangelo?"

I stopped breathing.

"My dearest Sister!" The King smiled and tightened his arm protectively around the Queen. "Doesn't the Inquisitor have enough on his hands, protecting Spain from religious wars, without pursuing an elderly artist in Rome?" The King took Up his sister's hand and kissed it before she could speak further. "I regret that I must cut this visit short, Juana, but I am Using this break from my paperwork to steal away the Queen for a little moment. Will you please pardon Us?"

"But of course, Your Majesty." The Inquisitor-General beckoned for a page to bring him the tray of marzipan.

My ears rang with fear. How would I bear up to the questions of the Inquisitor-General and Dona Juana when left alone with them?

"My Lord," said the Queen, "I need someone to hold my train if I am not to stumble. Sofi, will you come?"

I took her train, my hands shaking. Outside Dona Juana's chamber, the Queen asked, "Are you well?"

"A touch of indigestion," I said. "That is all."

Though the Queen and King were but three ells of velvet brocade away, it was several minutes before my heart had calmed enough for me to hear their speech as they strolled across the tiled floor of the receiving chamber.

She playfully pushed into his shoulder. "You have not told me where we are going, My Lord."

"It is a surprise."

She tucked in her chin. "If it is to your bed that you take me, Your Majesty, it will hardly be a surprise."

Amusement played Upon his lips, threatening to break his cool expression. "I am not taking you to my bed."

"You are not?"

I could feel the King ascertaining if I was listening. He lowered his voice. "I cannot bed you every moment, My Lady. Too much sex can kill a man."

She burst out laughing.

"You laugh," he said, bemused. "I speak the truth. My father warned me of it. His great-Uncle died after six months of Unbridled coupling with his bride. He was but nineteen."

She laughed even harder, the fringe on her turban jiggling.

"You find such tragedy humoroUs?" said the King, though his eyes were merry. "You laugh at the death of the son of Their Sacred Majesties Isabel and Fernando?"

"I envy him! What an excellent way to go."

"Good point, my dear." He nestled her hand Under his arm.

Though it had not fully Unclenched the fist of fear knotted within my gut, to see My Lady and this most somber of kings so lighthearted did help to calm my mind. For the King, for all his austerity, was proving to be a gentle husband, even making allowances when My Lady fell into her spells of quiet sadness during their new season of conjugal joy. He weathered these brief bouts with watchful patience, attributing her lapses, he told me, to her tender years.

"My Lord," the Queen said, "I do suppose there is some truth to your father's warning, but not for men. It is women who pay the price for happy coupling--in the childbed. Do not worry," she said quickly, when she saw his pained face. "I am not afraid. I shall have scores and scores of babies--you'll see."

"Like your mother, My Lady."

She pulled away from him. "Not like my mother."

He gathered her back in. "I am sorry, my darling. Forget that I mentioned her."

We walked on, our footsteps echoing from the intricately carved and coffered wooden ceiling high overhead. The room, though now empty, kept its smell of candle wax; there was the odor, too, of stone and musty timber.

A screeching burst forth above. A blackbird beat against the ceiling, its cries frantic and pitiful.

The Queen leaned away from the King. "Oh, My Lord, it is trapped!" "It will find its way out."

"But all the windows are closed."

The King stroked her arm. "I shall send someone to help it."

"You will?"

"Of course."

She winced at the bird 's screams. "Do not forget."

He drew her closer. "I never forget."

"If you promise, then." The Queen sighed, then mustered a faltering smile. "Tell me another piece of your father's advice."

"Well, let me see," said the King. "In truth, he gave me a great deal of it. When I was sixteen, he put much of it in a letter."

The bird flew to a window on the far side of the room and rested on the top of the frame. The Queen lowered her shoulders, visibly relaxing as the bird quieted.

"To start with," said the King, "he said to avoid flatterers."

She cocked her head, her turban fringe dangling, to gaze into his face. "Did I tell you what beautiful eyes you have?"

He gave her arm an affectionate shake. "He also said to find time to go among and talk to the people."

"I like that."

"As you should. The people adore you, My Lady."

"Do you think?"

He kissed her hand in acknowledgment, then laid it on his chest. "Yes."

They resumed walking. "Well, let's see what else," said the King. "Father said to keep myself from anger, and do nothing in anger."

"That is not a problem for you, My Lord. You do not get angry."

He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it.

"I have not seen you angry," she said, persisting.

After a moment he said, "He also said it would not hurt for me to learn a bit of French."

She laughed. "I see you did not mind all his rules."

"I speak French."

"Like a toddling child."

"You catch me out." He patted her hand on his chest. "Well, for the most part, I tried to take his advice. As you see, he was very wise."

"Except about the coupling."

"Excepting that, yes."

They walked along. "It must have been a terribly long letter," said the Queen.

"I still have it. He was leaving for the Low Countries again, and I was distraught. As a boy, I saw far too little of him. He was always off fighting wars in his lands."

"My father did not travel, but I hardly saw him, either. He was always with--"

The King stopped to listen.

"Nobody."

He gently rearranged a dark tendril that had escaped from her turban. "You can tell me."

She looked away from his eyes. "His mistress. Please do not misUnderstand, madame Diane was good to me and I was fond, very fond, of her, but--"

He laced his fingers through hers, then kissed her fingertips. "You know what else was in that letter?"

She looked Up.

"Once married, I must not go with other women."

"I think I like that letter very much," she whispered.

"You should." He kissed her tenderly, then glancing at me, drew her toward a window overlooking the stable courtyard. "Now," he said, his voice more brisk, "you must not look Until I say."

She darted forward, nearly ripping the train from my hands. The King blocked her way. "Not Until I say."

"I will look!"

They got in a loving tussle, me clinging absurdly to her train like a dog to a stick in play. Sweetest Holy Mary, give me the order to let go!

The Queen broke free of him and put her nose to the wavy glass of the window. "Is it a--? My Lord, it 's a new chariot!"

"In which two can ride . . .
safely
." He nodded at me to go, then put his arms around her from behind as I receded. "It is for you and me," he said, kissing her neck, "once the weather warms."

I walked back to my chambers, the blackbird 's renewed cries of fright ringing in my ears. I should be glad for the Queen and her happiness, yet I felt Unsettled. Why were Dona Juana and the Inquistor-General so intent Upon probing into any improprieties on Michelangelo's part? What if they dug so deep they Unearthed the truth about me?

Francesca looked Up from mending the hem of my skirt as I entered the room. She frowned when she saw my expression. "
Signorina,
you keep your face that way, and it will stay, just like that. What trouble you?"

I shook my head.

She spat onto the coals. They hissed; then all was silent save for the almost imperceptible groan of the thread being drawn through the thick brocade cloth. She glanced at me, then frowned at her work. "You are not the only one,
signorina.
Every heart, it have its own ache."

ITEM : A certain Raimond Lully, governor of the isle of Mallorca and the possessor of a rich and noble heritage, became enamored of a fair and honest lady. He wooed her long and ardently, pressing for her to bestow her love on him, for she, he said, was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. After two years, she relented and gave him an assignation, at which time she appeared before him more radiant than ever and dressed in finest clothes. But just as he thought he was about to enter Paradise, she bared herself, showing herself to be covered with a dozen plasters. One by one, she tore them off and threw them to the ground, then, pointing to her sores, demanded of him whether he still thought she was beautiful. He left her straightaway, commended the fair lady to God in her affliction, gave up his office, and became a hermit.

ITEM: The greatest art conceals art.

8 JANUARY 1561

El Alcazar, Toledo

The QUeen has the Small Pox.

It is strange, since she already had a case and UsUally the contagion passes over previous victims. Could her earlier affliction have been something else? But there is no denying the cause of the bubbling pustules that have arisen from her cream-white skin. It is clearly the Small Pox. We know not if she will live or die. I should sleep, but how can I, knowing My Lady is struggling for her life in the next room?

The situation has become dire since I was first called by the King's man eight days ago. I had been in my chamber, reading about a superior new red pigment obtained from a beetle from the New World, when he rapped Upon my door. Upon hearing that the Queen had fallen ill, I dropped my book and followed the King's man to My Lady's chamber, with Francesca churning behind me, rubbing her hands and moaning. The King was at My Lady's bedside, looking pale and stern in the torchlight.

I dropped to a crouch next to the Queen. She stirred in her sweat-dampened sheets.

"My Lady?"

"She was well when I saw her after dinner," the King snapped.

I touched My Lady's forehead, then jerked back my hand as from a hot kettle. She watched me with glassy eyes.