The Shades of Time (29 page)

Well, he would
serve the family's interests for now. But when the time suited, he
would chose a path more aligned with his developing needs and
desires.

Friedrich waved
off his disapproving daughter and her panicked handmaidens—who knew
full well that their mistress' displeasure would come with a cost—
and bade his entourage to leave them alone. Once the room cleared,
he approached the young man and took his elbow.

"
Kommst mit mir
, Stefano." Friedrich noted the boy's puzzled expression, then
smiled slyly and switched to his heavily accented Italian. "Come,
please. We can talk and I have a few things that might interest
you. Things to make your stay perhaps more pleasant."

Friedrich
smiled to himself. The reports from his informant had hinted at
activities on board the ship that bode well for developing a very
particular relationship with his soon-to-be new son-in-law.

As he steered
the young man toward his private chambers, Friedrich asked, "How
old are you, boy?"

Stefano looked
puzzled at the question but quickly replied, "I am approaching
one-and-twenty, sire."

The older man chuckled and said, "Just Friedrich when we are
alone, my boy. There is no reason to stand on formalities now that
we shall be so
intimately
aligned."

His curiosity
obviously peaked, Stefano followed him obediently through the
bedchambers and down a steep staircase that led, level after level,
into the lower reaches of the castle. Friedrich guided him into a
chamber from which the door could be locked from the inside for
privacy, but which he left propped open, causing the torches to
flare and waver, casting strange shadows on the walls.

Despite the
enclosed, windowless space, the room was not stuffy. Fresh rushes
had been recently applied to the smooth stone floor and the walls
were dry and hung with muted tapestries in deep burgundy and blue
shades. It had the feel of a drawing room, albeit on the chill side
since the large fireplace at the rear of the long, narrow space
sparked with dying embers.

Friedrich
placed a few logs and kindling onto the smoldering coals and
prodded at the logs until the dry wood caught with a satisfying
hiss. He ignored his young guest, allowing him to view the room's
accouterments at his leisure. He shivered at the prospect of
explaining some of the finer points about the various devices
arrayed about the space. Some would be familiar, others less
obvious.

The Duke turned
away from the blaze and watched his young—dare he call him
apprentice?—with admiration. The boy was tall and not too muscular,
with well-shaped thighs and strong hands. Friedrich loved strong
hands. And he loved the air of innocence so cleverly masking what
he sensed was an adventurous and discerning nature—one that would
appreciate and embrace the unexpected.

He padded
silently toward the young man, until he stood close enough to
whisper in his ear, "Well…?"

Stefano
hesitated, unsure, still scanning the space, but as understanding
dawned he smiled and nodded to his host.

"Do you like
what you see, my boy?"

Stefano sighed with pleasure, "
Sì, mio
signore,
I like it very much,
indeed."

"Then, perhaps
if you are not too weary from your journey…?"

Stefano turned, his eyes smoldering with lust and
anticipation. He husked, "I'm not tired at all,
signore
, not at all."

Friedrich
grinned and said, "Excellent. Gustav," he paused at Stefano's
questioning look, "my secretary, shall join us later. But for now
we have all this for our own enjoyment."

"Join us?"

"Gustav
recommended Wiltrud be your intended. A most excellent suggestion,
do you not agree?" The boy clearly did not so he added quickly,
"Which is why I wish to reward my faithful servant for his
initiative."

Stefano kept
his face carefully blank but the small uptick at the corner of his
mouth indicated he understood.

"Good, I see
you are in agreement. Then let us begin, shall we?"

Friedrich felt
his gut twist with excitement as he paced to the door and shut it
securely, lowering the cross-beam to keep interlopers out. When he
turned around, his new cohort was already fondling a willow
stick.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Nico sank
wearily to the ground. He'd lost two of his complement to mishaps
from their precipitous charge through the Mesata Central, relying
on local knowledge to bypass known strongholds whose occupants were
not sympathetic to Carlos. The tracks had been rough, laming horses
and challenging even the toughest of his men, pushing all to their
limits.

He watched
Veluria approach from the direction of the Rio Tagus. She'd said
nothing earlier that day but the plea in her eyes had finally
convinced him to stop and rest. While his men saw to the animals
and set to finding sufficient deadfall for a small campfire, he did
guard duty. Not that his men were inclined to partake of a
beautiful woman bathing in the moonlight—all were bone weary and
exhausted beyond measure.

Lunging to his
feet, he gathered his cape and flung it around the tiny woman's
shoulders. They'd said little to each other for days, each guarding
secrets that few would comprehend. She nodded her thanks and
shivered as the chill air caressed her damp skin.

"Come M’lady,
the fire will dry you off in good time."

He guided the
woman to a spot opposite where his captain snored softly, the other
two men walking the perimeter. He knew he should sleep before
taking his turn but suspected, like all the other nights, he would
remain in a half-waking state. Fear for his brother, the nagging
sense that he could reach out and touch him if only he tried
harder… Instead, distressing thoughts from alien images and ideas
crowded his mind, distracting him from focusing his search.

"Thank you,
Nico." She tucked her legs under the cape, her slim body still
quaking.

Nico murmured,
"Come here," and drew her onto his lap so he could cradle her in
what little warmth his body could provide. They needed to talk. He
was sure she would not want to hear what he had to say.

"I'm losing
him." He didn't bother keeping the misery out of his voice. "Each
day, he grows weaker. I fear we shall not be in time."

He felt Veluria
shake her head against his chest, the words muffled and indistinct,
mirroring his growing despair. She pushed away and stared up at
him, her damp hair cascading about her thin face and narrow
shoulders. She seemed to have shrunk into nothingness, worry and
care consuming her as it did him.

Angrily she
brushed the strands away and hissed, "But we must, Nico. We seem so
close. I can feel him also."

There seemed
nothing more he could add to her admonition, so he murmured, "Let
me do something about that," and before she could protest he spun
her about to sit perched on his knees. The black strands fell in
wild disarray down her back, knotted and still caked with the dust
and dirt thrown up by hooves. The muddy river had done little but
deposit more silt and grit. If she were like his Isabella, it was
probably a good thing she could not determine the state of her
tresses.

When he pulled
his fingers through Veluria's hair, separating the strands and
peeling away the worst of the grit, she sighed with pleasure, much
the way Isabella did…

She said, "Tell
me about her."

Disconcerted
that she could so easily read his thoughts, he asked, "What do you
wish to know, M'lady?"

"You love her."
It seemed an odd statement, though the truth of it must be evident
to her senses, so he waited for her to continue. "But … you are
not…" she struggled to make sense of her perceptions, "…not
together?"

Nico smoothed
the silky strands and separated them into thick clumps, taking his
time, using the activity to help him frame his answer such that she
would not see or feel the pain and anger that gnawed at his gut
every day of his life. Pressing on Veluria's upper back, he said,
"Lean forward," and began to expertly braid the thick hair into a
tight strand.

Veluria had more patience than he would have credited any
woman, allowing him to determine what and how much to tell. He
rarely spoke of his feelings, not even to Tonio with whom he often
shared his most intimate thoughts. But not about
this
.

Sadly she said,
"She is not yours to have."

Curtly he
stated, "No," hoping that would be the end of the discussion. He
was not going to be so fortunate.

"Does she know? How
you
feel, I mean?"

Nico finished
plaiting, tying off the end with loose strands as Isabella had
taught him. He wasn't sure he had an answer for Veluria's
perceptive question. He'd often felt the adolescent suitor, lusting
after his first crush. In too many ways it was true. The boy she'd
seduced had showered her with assurances of his undying affection,
the man he'd become had hardened and withdrawn, punishing them both
for a situation neither could control.

His brother
suspected but had yet to press him. It was a good thing. Were he to
reveal his agony he feared Tonio's solution would destroy the
fragile hold he had on Isabella. He had given her the one thing she
desired above all else. The fates had had other plans for her, for
them.

Veluria patted
the long braid appreciatively, then spun to face him, the wavering
flames from the campfire illuminating her features. He had little
room in his life for sympathy and regrets but the compassion on the
woman's face touched his heart.

She stroked his
face, her fingers scraping against the hard bristles. He had no
reason to trust this creature but she had insinuated herself into
their lives. That she loved his brother more than life itself he
had no doubt. With all he cared about hanging in the balance,
perhaps it was time to confront his deepest fears.

Inhaling, he
shut his eyes and opened his soul…

Veluria was
unprepared for the wash of emotions, not so much the volume but the
intensity, white hot, the burden of his feelings consuming the man
from the inside out. As for all of them, the ugliness of his world
had corrupted and darkened his spirit, yet he clung to one thing,
and one thing only, his love for a woman who'd eschewed his
devotion, yet pleasured them both on an altar of false hope and
lies.

She cradled his
face with her hands and whispered the question he feared most,
"Why? Why does she turn away?"

When the answer
came, she gasped and wrapped her arms about her belly in shock, the
scene playing out in hideous detail, every nuance, every
accusation, every bitter phrase etched into her soul.

Nico spoke
softly, face twisted in a rictus of pain, "We've been lovers for
what seems most of my life. I was fifteen, she was twenty-three."
He moved to prod the dying embers with a branch, adding more twigs,
then returned to sit next to her side-by-side so she could only see
his face in profile.

Jaw twitching,
he continued, "The Count was, is, impotent and cannot have
children. We were virgins and learned from each other. I knew if I
waited long enough, was patient enough, her husband would surely
die. I prayed nightly." He hissed, "I am not proud of that but I
had little recourse at the time."

"How often did
you see her?"

He shrugged,
"Two or three times a year only. It wasn't until Father sent me to
Carlos' court that I was able to finally spend more time with
Isabella. We were very discrete, not even my household was aware of
our trysts." Nico rubbed his scalp mindlessly and stared into the
flames. "It's my fault. I should have been more … careful. But it
was so seldom that I forgot myself, and … and…"

"She was
pregnant."

"Yes. Isabella
was overjoyed. I was not. I knew it was a mistake for which we
would pay a terrible price. I had no idea how high that price would
be."

"What about the
Count?"

"He knew, of
course. Oh, not that I was the one who cuckolded him, but that
Isabella had been unfaithful, of that there was no doubt."

"What happened?" Veluria could piece it together from the
fractured images she'd gleaned but Nico's pain had been bottled up
too long. This
thing
he carried with him was like a cancer eating his
soul.

"The man was no
fool. He claimed the child for his own." Nico nervously wrung his
hands, the silence deepening between them until she was sure he'd
go no further. When he did speak, the sounds came out flat and
brittle.

"Cosimo
recalled me to Florence on other matters. I was away during her
confinement. Only Tonio knew of my distress, though not the reason.
He kept me sane and occupied. When I returned to court, I had a
beautiful daughter, a child I determined to claim for my own. I
named her Theresa in honor of my mother, but of course, that was my
child's secret identity, one I would reveal in good time."

Veluria asked,
"What did you do next?"

He laughed but
the sound came out like a harsh bark of anger. "Do? What I seem to
do best. I prowled the back corridors, making deals, keeping
secrets. I played my part, handling negotiations, ever visible yet
hiding in the shadows. I wanted my child but I desired Isabella
above all else, my lust, my love more than I could bear."

Nico paused for
the final time. She braced for what was coming, praying she had the
strength to offer him solace, knowing he would deny it for
himself.