The Creation Of Eve (47 page)

Doctor Debruyne's gaze wandered to the tall grass. "I apologize. I must keep searching, though why the King thinks I should be the one to look for cocoons, I do not know. I have much work to do before I leave."

My heart sank most irrationally. "You are leaving?"

"Signorina,"
said Francesca, "we must go now."

"I believe you are being Ushered away,
juffrouw
."

I looked away, composing myself. "
Senor
, may I inquire where you are going?"

His teeth shone white in his tanned Flemish face. "The King has agreed to send me to Peru."

My breath stopped. Peru? It was on the other side of the world. I made myself smile. "Your dream. Congratulations."

"My goal of gathering native specimens will finally be realized--how well you Understand me,
juffrouw.
" He held my gaze.
"
I wish we had gotten to know each other better."

I willed myself not to look away, even as I stored away his small compliment as a squirrel tucks away a nut. How long it had been since I had savored even the smallest bit of attention from a man.

He sighed. "I believe I am still getting over the shock of being sent. I don't know what persuaded His Majesty to finally send Us--I have been a pest about it for years. Well, I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth. I jumped at it when he told me yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"It is a marvel, isn't it? My ship sails from Sevilla in nineteen days. That is hardly time to gather supplies for two years, let alone to get there."

"You will be gone for two years?"

"Possibly longer. He said to take all the time there I needed."

I fought to keep a pleasant countenance.

He ran his boot over a patch of weedy grass. "I shall think of you,
juffrouw
, when I locate the native coca."

"Yes, please do think of me when you see green streams of saliva trickling down a chewer's chin."

"I will," he said readily. He saw me cringe. "But only in the very best way."

I fought back the smile that threatened to take over my face. "Good luck," I said. "With your experiments."

He paused as if reluctant to leave, unsure, I am certain, of what to make of such a strange person.

"You missed an interesting one," he said after a moment. "Experiment, I mean. You would have laughed. I boiled down moonflower leaves into the weakest of teas, then drank it. The weakness and lethargy it produced kept me bed-bound for a week."

I frowned as I nodded. "Why would you wish to try it, when it is known to be a poison? Did you not say it caused the deadly flux?"

"True. But in small doses, it is said to bring sweetest euphoria. I had to see for myself. I know, I know, I shall never try that again." He laughed. "My pupils were as dilated as an owl's."

"Your pupils were dilated?"

He nodded. "Painfully. I could not bear light."

I glanced at Francesca, who was frowning most fiercely.

"What is it?" he asked.

I shook my head. Mentioning the Queen's ailment in the same breath as moonflower--I would sound delirious. Treasonous, as well.

Francesca touched my arm.
"Signorina."

"I think she means for you to go," he said to me.

"Yes."

"I shall miss you, juffrouw Sofonisba, you and your beautiful eyes."

I knew not how to remain there gracefully. He would miss me? He would miss these eyes? With a sudden rush of disbelief mixed with joy, I curtseyed and hastened away.

"Good-bye," he called after me and my tottering black shadow. "
Mevrouw
, I hope your teeth stay strong. And
juffrouw
, if I do not see you for a while--do keep painting!"

I rushed over the long, dry grass, my skirts catching on sticks and brambles. Within sight of the palace, I stopped. Tears flooded my eyes when I leaned over to catch my breath.

Francesca caught Up, panting. "
Signorina,
I see what is in your face. No! You can no fall in the love with this one! You hear him, he go across the sea. You never see him again."

"I am not in love, Francesca!"

Fool. Fool! How could I grieve for the loss of this man when I never really had him? Yet my heart was being wrenched from my chest. I could not bear Francesca's probing me about it. "It is not doctor Debruyne who troubles me. It is--It is--" I wiped my face with my arm. "It just strikes me as odd, that is all, that the King should send him away now, after he had requested leave for so many years. Is it purely coincidental that the one man who knows the poisonous properties of the plants from the New World is now being sent to the far side of the sea?"

"What?"

"Who else but him would notice that the symptoms the Queen now displays are the same he himself experienced after drinking moonflower tea? Does anyone else know that the moonflower specimens had once gone missing?"

Francesca's upturned chin quivered. "
Signorina
, do you say--do you say that the King, he poison Madonna Elisabetta?"

I regretted my careless words the moment I heard her accusation. The idea, confined within my imagination these months and years, grew terrifyingly real when voiced aloud. "Never speak of such again! Do you know what a dangerous thing you say?"

"You say it first,
signorina
."

"Yes, and I am sorry. Terribly sorry! Just because the King grows moonflower does not mean he would dream of feeding it to the Queen. Why would he ever do such a thing? He loves her."

Francesca drew her shawl closer, shaking her head.

"Stop it," I said. "If she 'd been receiving moonflower tea, surely she 'd have the flux by now. A fatal dose of the herb brings death by flux."

I paused. I did not like the look on her face. "What is it?"

"You remember how the Prince of Ascoli die?"

We stared at each other.

"Coincidence," I breathed.

Francesca wagged her head in remorse. "I say it ignorant for the other servants to say the King, he poison Signore Ascoli. I tell them, 'Hush your mouths!' when they say he angry that Signore Ascoli made a child Upon signora Eufrasia, when Ascoli supposed to be the husband in name only. '
I
know the King myself,' I say. '
I
know he never do such thing.' "

"He wouldn't. We must not think this."

"You saw Signore Ascoli at the palace reception before he die--Signore Ascoli, he strong as the bull."

"This is absurd. A king poisoning his kin, let alone his wife."

"
Signorina,
name a duke of Milan who has live to be the old age. How many Italian gentlemen die before their beards have turn white, killed by their sons or nephews? Poisoned, all of them."

"That is Italy. They are poison-mad there."

"They poison-mad everywhere."

"Even if the King poisoned Ascoli--and I'm not saying he did!--why would he poison the Queen? He loves her."

We stared at each other. My heart beat faster, as before me flashed the King's face when he observed the Queen and Don Juan playing in the river, and when he watched the Queen stealing Don Juan's clothes in the woods of Valsain. And how many times had the King seen the Queen gazing longingly at his brother? More times, many more times, than he'd seen her looking longingly at himself.

I gazed at the palace, rising Up from the river, its scarlet and gold pennants snapping in the wind. I choked down the knot of fear swelling in my throat. "What do I do?"

"
Do? Do?
You do nothing,
signorina
! I not raise you from the baby to have you burn on the fire of the Inquisitor-General! You
do
nothing but go back to My Lady and work on the embroidery. Paint if you want! Draw the dogs from life! Chisel the statues out of the bUtter! But for you to do one thing about this"--she spat--"I forbid you."

"My poor little Lady . . ."

"You do not hear me,
signorina
?"

I nodded silently. I set forth, my shawl flapping.

"Where you go?" she cried.

"I don't know. To think."

She followed, moaning as I marched along the south arcade of the palace, reviewing my warring thoughts. Only in a state of Unbalance would I question the King's intentions. It was not rational to think our quiet King could poison his own beloved wife. But how could I ignore the possibility of a connection between the Queen's inability to recover from childbirth and the "health-giving" elixirs the King was feeding her . . . if there was evidence.

"
Signorina
, where you go now!" cried Francesca.

I left the arcade and made for the courtyard before the main entrance of the palace, my slippers padding against the flagstones. When Francesca saw where I was headed, she bustled in front of me to block my way.

"No,
signorina
, you let it be! You follow this, it bring you harm."

"And what of the Queen if I do not?"

"Signorina!"

I dodged around her and broke into a run. To the far end of the courtyard I dashed, and at last into the King's flower garden, where leaf-heaped beds awaited the distant spring. The thorny canes of roses snatched at my sleeves as I ducked Under the trellis. I stopped, panting. Where in seasons past brushy stands of moonflower had flourished now stood a mound of rotting debris.

Francesca chugged Up, holding her side. "See?" she said, gasping for breath. "Nothing. No leaves for him to make the bad tea."

I ran my slipper over the pile, Uncovering the withered nubs of stalks.

"Signorina."

The terror in Francesca's whisper jolted me Upright. My heart dashed against my chest: Just across the river, Under the alley of elms, the King approached carrying the Infanta, wrapped in a fur of ermine.

He leaned forward with a squint to ascertain who it was.

Francesca and I froze as do deer before an arquebus.

We waited as His Majesty paused to point out a nesting wood dove to the Infanta, who reached for it from her cozy wrap. He crossed the bridge before strolling to a stop before Us. I curtseyed deeply, wishing never to rise.

"Looking for something?" said the King.

He watched as I rose, his perfect brows arched. In his arms, the six-month-old Infanta watched, too, her own faint brows poised exactly like her father's.

My heart pounded in my throat. "I look for signs of spring."

He switched the Infanta to his other arm. "You won't find many here. By the end of March, things will start to stir."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you. I shall come back then."

He gazed at me, then at the dormant bed. He smiled briefly. "Are you interested in moonflowers?"

My blood froze within my veins.

"I thought you might be, as intent as you were on this bed."

I shook my head.

The Infanta leaned across her father's chest to latch on to his pointed beard, then chortled as his chin moved when he spoke. "If you wish to see it growing," he said, "I have a pot of it near the south window of my library. I have found that by bringing it indoors, I can grow it year-round."

I glanced away, my head light.

"Maybe you can explain to the Queen why I am so taken with the flower."

I looked Up. He was studying me coolly, his expression mirrored on the baby's plump face.

"My wife thinks the plant looks like a weed."

My brain seethed with fear, even as my mouth boldly spoke. "Why do you grow it, then, Your Majesty?"

Behind me, Francesca stopped breathing.

A faint smile penetrated the King's calm features. "My mother had morning glories trained around her window at the palace where I grew Up. It reminds me much of those."

The Infanta bucked in his arms.

"Isabel Clara, I see a horse. Do you see a horse?" He lifted the child so that she might see the beast being walked from the palace to the stable yard by one of the palace grooms. "Horse.
Horse
."

She watched, the whites of her widened eyes the moist pale blue of the very young.

"The Queen is resting now," the King said to me. "She will want you when she rises." He kissed the top of the Infanta's head, then walked away.

I curtseyed to his retreating figure, then stood, my heart pounding as wood doves cooed serenely from the elms.

"Ohime, signorina,"
Francesca whispered. "We go home to Cremona, before you get in the trouble. Promise me you will do nothing--promise!"

I watched, ill, as the King strolled into the palace.

"If he want to hide the poison," Francesca whispered, "why he tell you where he grow it?"

"What better way to remove himself from questioning than to hide in plain sight? And what cares he about the suspicions of a poor count's daughter? He is King. He can do anything."

"Ohime!"
she groaned. "That is the terrible talk. Do not say again!" But I did not have to say it again. The thought circulated Unspoken between Us for the rest of the evening. It festered in the air as we ate dinner, when we went to prayers, and as we readied the Queen for bed with the King. I could not meet Her Majesty's eyes. I had promised that I would never keep the truth from her, and now I was withholding information on which her very life might depend. How was I to live with myself? Yet what if I was missing something? What if I was reacting only to the colored pigments on the surface of the picture, ignoring the true basis of the picture--the Underpainting beneath? I had to be misinterpreting appearances. In my years in the Queen's service, the King had been only the most loving of husbands.

I shall not sleep tonight. I must figure out a plan, a scheme--some way to keep My Lady alive while I seek the truth.