The Creation Of Eve (38 page)

"My Lord, Toad would never hurt me. And I can stop him before he hurts himself. I have a power over him. Please let me go, My Lord. It will be good for me to get outside. I shall get stronger in the fresh air."

His face weary, the King pressed his lips to her hand. "I do want you to be well."

"I will be. For you, My Lord. I promise!" She pulled away and fairly skipped to the door, Cher-Ami tottering after her. "Come, Sofi!"

We caught Up with Don Carlos in the arcade around the courtyard, where the quince trees, their branches heavy with fat yellow fruit, still dripped from the rain.

"May we come with you?" the Queen asked.

"Wouldn't you rather be with my father?" Don Carlos pulled at a quince branch, showering me in his wake.

"I want to be with you now." The Queen took his arm. "Tell me about yourself, Toad. What have you been doing of late?"

It did not take her long to soften him. By the time the guards were raising their halberds to allow Us leave of the palace, he was telling her what he had been doing since her last illness, and about the many expensive things he had acquired.

We were past the meadows and the river and were deep within the woods when Don Carlos turned the subject to My Lady.

"Has it been a trial, Dona Elisabeth, keeping to your rooms so much during this time of year?" he asked. We padded along on the grass, which grew so lushly in the mellow light shining through the pines. Our footsteps sent squirrels skittering Up the scaly rust-colored trunks of trees. "I love the fall, with all the riding, hunting, and falconing."

Don Alessandro laughed. "That falcon yesterday nearly took you with it when it set off. Truly, my friend, you must gain some weight, or we shall see you in the skies of Segovia."

"I stumbled," Don Carlos said crossly, "and so released my bird awkwardly. Now Don Alessandro will not let me forget it."

"Do not worry, Toad." The Queen smoothed his hand. "I know he is cruel."

"Now, now," said Don Alessandro. "Is that any way to talk?"

"You are cruel," the Queen insisted, "of the worst sort. You laugh when you thrust the knife."

"Me? Where do you get this thought? Did you dream something Up in your illness?"

Don Carlos grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. "Do not mind him. He is harmless enough. It is my father who is the cruel one."

"For what, for trying to get a child on his wife?" said Don Alessandro.

Don Carlos's pale, watery eyes bulged with incredulous fury. He pummeled Don Alessandro's muscular arm with his bony fist. "Take that back! Take that back!"

The Queen flashed Don Alessandro her own look of anger, but as she caressed the Prince's back, her expression softened into weariness. "Carlos, please, both you and I know I must bear the King's children. What other reason is there for me to exist?"

He stopped pounding Don Alessandro. "Oh, My Lady." His voice broke with pain. "You are so much more than that."

The Queen kissed the padded shoulder roll of Don Carlos's doublet. "You are so kind. But you are so, so wrong."

A squirrel jumped onto a branch directly above Us, sprinkling our party with raindrops and sending Cher-Ami into a frenzy. Don Carlos scowled Up at the offending creature, then, tenderly, wiped the Queen's face with his sleeve. "Oh, Elisabeth, how I wish you were mine. I would treat you so much better than he."

She sighed. "He treats me well enough."

"No! I mean it--I would spend every single moment with you, every minute of every day. I swear, I would never let you out of my sight."

"Oh," she said, "he's quite good at that."

She commenced to walk again. I followed, face forward, not letting Don Alessandro catch my eye. I would not be his ally in provoking Don Carlos.

"If you were mine, we would have fun," said Don Carlos. "How could we help it? We are the same age. How can you stand being with an old man?"

We started down a wooded slope. The soft roar of rushing water marked a turning of the Eresma somewhere below. "He is hardly old," she said, laughing. "Thirty-seven."

"I am nineteen." He straightened, only bringing attention to his frail frame. "In my prime."

She patted his arm. "Then you should think of marrying my sister. It is my mother's fondest wish. She is prettier than I."

"No one is prettier than you, My Lady," he said vehemently.

"Excuse me, Don Carlos," said Don Alessandro, "but let me recount: Our Lady's sister is young and pretty, and your father, whom you dearly love to cross, doesn't want you to marry her because he has already made a French allegiance with Our Lady and wishes to Use you elsewhere." He slapped an outcropping of stone embedded in the hill. "Now, tell me again why you will not wed her? I would think you'd run off in disguise and carry her away."

"I don't want to."

"Consider yourself lucky. Your father has asked that I marry our cousin in Portugal, to hold together our realms. The rag picker's mule has a lovelier face than my future bride."

"I hear something," said Don Carlos.

We paused to listen. There was a distinct splashing below, but the source was obscured by a tumble of boulders.

"Maybe it's a beaver," whispered Don Carlos. "Or an otter. Where is my gun when I need it?"

"I like beavers," the Queen whispered back. "
And
otters. Why would you want to kill them?"

"Shhh," said Don Carlos. "Silly. That is just what men do."

We climbed onto the lichen-covered boulders, the
caballeros
helping the Queen and me, hampered by our skirts. A low waterfall came into view, its descent broken by a series of boulders. A few more hard-won steps revealed a pool at the base of the falls. There, swimming in waters clouded by the rain, was neither otter nor beaver but a man. His sinuous arms rhythmically sliced the gray surface. He raised his head to breathe, revealing blond hair darkened by the water.

"Good Lord--Juan!" called Don Carlos. "What are you doing out here?"

Don Juan stopped mid-stroke, then treaded water. His grin grew as he looked over our group, Cher-Ami barking excitedly at pond's edge. "Swimming."

"I can see what you're doing, but why?" said Don Carlos. "You must be freezing."

"Don't discourage him," Don Alessandro said. "He is having a bath, country-boy style."

Don Juan laughed. "Just so. My Lady--please forgive me for not addressing you properly."

Don Alessandro held Up a pair of breeches from a pile of clothing on a rock. "I believe I have the reason why."

The color heightened on My Lady's face. "Oh, I think that is not the reason. I think he is afraid."

"Afraid?" Don Juan's grin deepened, his dimples accentuated by his water-slicked hair. "Is that what I am? And why so, My Lady?"

"My husband is very angry at you. You turned down the chance to be cardinal. Do you know how hard he had to bargain for that?"

"Very hard, I would imagine, knowing what a poor candidate I made."

"Easy for you to jest, but he was quite determined for you to have a high position. You took the honor he wished to give you and threw it in his face."

"I am sorry, My Lady. I could not become a cardinal."

"Yes, because cardinals cannot take wives."

Don Juan splashed the water with his hand. "That was not why."

"Oh? Shall I tell that to the Duke of Mendoza's niece? Is she not your lady?"

"I regret that she misinterpreted my stay at her uncle's house. It was necessity that drove me there--I had no place to go after I left Rome. I was not exactly welcome in Madrid."

I saw Don Alessandro's watchful eyes, and Don Carlos's rumpled brow. Did the Queen forget their presence? Had she forgotten the terror she had felt after being discovered by the King at the river in Aranjuez?

"Shall we not walk on?" I said, affecting a playful voice. I addressed Don Alessandro and his smirk directly. "I thought My Lady was the liege lady for you all. Do you errant knights not wish to accompany her?"

"We have stopped playing that game," said Don Alessandro. "We are all a little older now."

"Speak for yourself," said Don Carlos. "I am still your knight, My Lady."

"How about you, Juan?" called Don Alessandro. "Do you still play the game?"

Treading water, Don Juan regarded Don Alessandro. He swung his gaze to me. "Dona Sofonisba, when I was in Rome, I met someone who knew you. He said you were both students of Michelangelo Buonarroti."

My heart stopped. I had known only one student of Michelangelo's in Rome.

"He wondered if you had ever spoken of him, or of Michelangelo."

Don Alessandro snatched Up the rest of Don Juan's clothes. "Let it be said that Juan is a knight without his armor."

Don Juan paddled closer to shore, then stood, naked to the waist. Water streamed down his lean body. "Hey!"

At that moment, I should have whisked the Queen from the scene, but I was too stunned by Don Juan's announcement to move. Of her own volition the Queen turned away. "If a cardinal's hat is not good enough for you to wear," she called over her shoulder, her voice reedy with spirit, "perhaps nothing is."

Don Alessandro shoved the clothes into her arms. "Go!"

She held the clothes away from herself as if they were tainted.

"Run!" Don Alessandro exclaimed. "Back to the palace!"

With a giddy yelp, she hugged them to herself and scrambled onto the rocks.

"Behind you," cried Don Carlos with a horsey laugh. "You dropped his shift!"

"Keep going, Elisabeth!" shouted Don Alessandro.

Seeing his chance, Don Juan sprang through the water and halfway onto the shore. His hand was on the shift at the same time Don Alessandro stomped his boot Upon it.

An angry voice rang from above. "What is this?"

My heart shot against my chest. Flesh prickling, I looked Up. The King stood at the top of the boulders, hands on hips.

Don Juan lowered himself back into the water.

The Queen dropped the clothes as if they had burst on fire.

I held my breath, waiting for His Majesty's rebuke. But instead of shouting, his face relaxed into a mask of
sosiego
, as cool as the dark water lapping around Don Juan's neck. He stretched his hand down toward the Queen.

She worked her way over the boulders. I knew--everyone knew, even Cher-Ami--not to follow.

When they were gone, Don Alessandro tossed Don Juan his shift. I began my own climb over the rocks, my stomach churning.

"I hate him!" cried Don Carlos. "He has got no right to bully her around. He treats his horses better."

"He's her husband," said Don Juan. He caught Up to Us, buckling his breeches, then scooped Up Cher-Ami. "You are blameless, dona Sofonisba. Do not worry, I will make that clear."

"Do you jest?" exclaimed Don Alessandro. "Do you think anything you say to the King will have value?"

When we returned to the palace, the King and Queen were not to be found. I paced Up and down the arcade, my brain a puddle of contrite terror. Once again I had failed to rein in the Queen's impetuous behavior. Once again I had brought shame to her, to myself, and to my father, too, if I were lucky enough to be sent home.

What seemed like hours later, the King and Queen swept in from out-of-doors. I fell nearly prostrate into a curtsey.

"Attend to the Queen," said the King, the high color in his face not matching the calm in his voice. "She will need you now."

She smiled briefly as he kissed her hand then left her. Stiffly, she began to walk. Only when I fell in line behind her did I notice the pine needles caught in the back of her braids, and the dirt Upon the shoulder of her gown.

ITEM: Although many pigments benefit from liberal grinding, take great care when preparing pigments like smalt, bice, and the blue, ultramarine. You may think to make them fine by much grinding, but doing so only makes them starved and dead.

25 APRIL 1565

The Palace, Aranjuez

Immediately after the King found the Queen stealing Don Juan's clothes while he swam, His Majesty launched a serious program of family leisure, a behavior he continues to this day. He wishes to hunt or picnic or boat with his family every day, even though you would think his capacity to frolic would be diminished by the troubles mounting in his lands. Perhaps it is in response to these troubles that he seeks diversion. Perhaps it is better to shoot deer than to worry about the people rising Up against the King's rule and the Holy Catholic Church in the Low Countries, threatening to destroy the churches in their towns. Perhaps it is more restful to eat grapes Under a spreading oak than to address the problem of the Turks now gathering a fleet in the Mediterranean to sail against Spain. Perhaps it is more peaceful to float down the muddy waters of the Tajo than think of the English pirates, Drake and Hawkins, prowling the waters of the Atlantic Under orders of their Queen Elizabeth, eager to steal the gold shipped from the New World--the gold desperately needed to pay the King's restless armies.

I suppose I should enjoy these outings. How much more pleasant they are than contemplating the great and terrible emptiness that I feel these days. If only I could lose myself in planning a painting--an epic subject from mythology, something complicated, something worthy of a
maestra
-- but the Queen needs me now, more than ever. For though she has the full attention of the King, even being made to work daily alongside him in his office as she had once lightly requested, she has become as a wild thing--quiet while others are gay, easily startled, given to inexplicable laughter when others are silent. And though she cares little for her appearance now, letting her brows and hairline grow back to their natural state, leaving her hair Undressed and her skin Unpowdered, she is all the more beautiful for it. Yet she does not enjoy her beauty--I think she is completely Unaware of it. How can I think of painting Greek gods when she is so Unwell? I must play along at the King's games, hoping to cajole her into health, though we have all been kept so busy at group idleness that even Don Carlos has complained.