Chapter 8 - Touch
"Hello, my Lord!", she shouted, and waved at him.
"My Lady," Giovanni bowed. He'd been intending to go with the non-committal "Madam".
"How is your health, my Lord?"
"The doctor is saying I am well underway to a full recovery, my Lady. Thank you." Her face opened at this, unfolded somehow - was she smiling? "I might even return to the saddle next week!" Why?! Why was he sharing this with her? She didn't need to know that!
"Thank God, my Lord!" Sounded genuine. Yes, he could see now she was smiling. And her smile was big and real, not practiced like before. Little crinkles around the eyes. He had seen her pretend to be happy before around him - this wasn't like that.
"And your own health, my lady?" He couldn't very well start calling her "Madam" now, could he? "Is your condition causing you any trouble?"
"No, my lord, not at all!" She smiled at her stomach, and he stopped himself from doing the same, right before she looked up, at him, again. "The baby is very well-behaved - it only kicks me a little sometimes, if I go to sleep without talking to it!"
Could an unborn child even know it had a mother, let alone that she forgot to talk to it?
"Would you like to come down and take a walk with me, my Lord?"
"Thank you, my Lady. But I must attend to business." He saw a flash of disappointment on her face, one that she quickly tried to hide with a smile, not her real smile, but she still stood there looking up at him, was she never going to leave? "But perhaps… perhaps you would like to have dinner with me, say, tomorrow?"
"This all sounds very promising, my Liege." A distant bird called out from the pine trees above.
"It had better. I'm yoked to her forever now. What God has joined together…"
"Your cousin Cardinal Sforza, my Liege… could he not convince his Holiness to annul the marriage?"
Giovanni shook his head. "No. I've angered God enough already. I will not risk being shut off from His creation again. She is my wife."
"How have you angered Him, my Liege?"
He was only vaguely aware of buttons hitting the floor and seams ripping, burning with impatience to make up for his humiliation, but now, as he was coming closer to her - rounding on her -, he could see that he had been mistaken.
Why didn't he realise it earlier, why hadn't it hit him before? Not even when she fell asleep at the celebration table at their wedding? Why was he only realising it now, after he had torn her nightgown down the middle, as she was crouching on the floor, trying to burrow into the bed?
Was this what he was now?
What was he supposed to do?
"By scaring her. By being unkind to her. And by almost…"
He couldn't understand what came over him that night, why he had been so angry with this girl who was not to blame for what had happened, who probably was none too eager to be chained to him either. He couldn't imagine even thinking about doing such a thing now. That day was distant, unknowable, impenetrable, like a stranger that didn't belong in his life. But it was in his life. He couldn't understand… then how could she understand? How would he ever explain it to her?
"Caterina's first husband - you probably know. Why didn't I realise it was the same thing?"
"But nothing happened, my Liege," Marco reassured him. "You didn't do anything to lady Sforza."
"I came very close to doing it."
"But you stopped yourself. You didn't hurt her. And surely you have done more than enough to make up for almost doing it? I mean, look at her now! She is so healthy and well-rested. And I dare say - I have not heard anyone take issue with your conduct in this situation. It's obvious that you've given her everything she needs."
Indeed. It was obvious she lacked nothing. Lucrezia Borgia stayed in her rooms most of the time, but Giovanni couldn't resist stealing a glance or two at her when she went outside to take her daily walks - which was how he came to find himself in his current predicament. She was unrecognisable - gone was the exhausted, filthy thing that he dragged off her horse in the forest not two months ago. His wife was healthy now, blooming with vigour and energy, always dressed in suitable, clean gowns - thanks to him.
He felt absurdly proud of himself for bringing this change about. He had sought out the best midwives in the region to examine her and prepare her for the birth, as distant as it still was. He had arranged for the best physician in the principality to see her every week, and ordered the servants to implement Doctor Merrotti's recommendations without fail when making her meals. And clearly, it was paying off. She was very healthy - because of him. He had done this.
What was this pleasure and pride at making wife flourish, when he was threatened into doing it, when she didn't even deserve it, when she was to be the mother of somebody else's child, even though she could have been carrying his heir? What was wrong with him?
And yet she was his wife. Everyone loved her - anyone would be overjoyed to have her for his own - but she was his. She was his wife - his to take care of, to look after and to nurture. No-one else's.
"I'll say. You've been eyeing up my wife, have you, you old dog?"
Marco chuckled. "No more than is acceptable, my Liege, I assure you. And I dare say I'm not the only one. It is a most unusual situation, and everyone wants to look after lady Sforza's wellbeing."
"Surely she should love me now - after all the things I've done for her? I dare say - well, surely I can expect some sort of friendship, at the very least, if not love?"
Giovanni leaned against the tree again, and concentrated on the distant branches above, letting his eyes rest in the growing gloom.
"I just don't understand, Marco. I have provided for her every need. And while she is obviously appreciative, as she should be… I do not think she loves me. I do not think even all of this has endeared me to her."
"Oh, she could, my liege. She could easily grow to love you. Women… they value touch. It's not enough to provide for them or give them things - no, if one is to secure their love, it is necessary to be more outward in one's… affections. I do not mean anything related to consummating the marriage, of course - that would be unthinkable. I rather mean… something smaller, but something… tangible. Small, gradual, but regular gestures of tenderness will go a long way."
"She's never asked me for that before. She has always been very afraid of me, and stayed well away. She's never wanted to be touched by me. This other man - or men, perhaps - well, whoever the father of her child is - that's who she will want."
"I don't agree, my Liege. I think it is you she wants."
Giovanni scoffed incredulously. "And you know a lot about her, do you?"
"I know, my liege, that every night after your accident, after you took your laudanum and went to sleep, she would come in and kiss your forehead and wish you goodnight."
Giovanni turned around to look at his friend. "She did? That's… I asked her not to come into my room while I'm ill – I ordered her. That was the only thing I asked for. The one accursed thing. She's seen me like that?And you let her do it?!"
"I tried everything, my Liege," Marco protested, "but she always found a way. The servants are putty in her hands. What could I do?"
Giovanni wasn't really even sure that he would have preferred for Marco to have put an end to the girl's excursions. He let the matter rest there.
"You have to remember, my Liege - she helped you. She could have just left you - but instead she rescued you. She came back with you."
"She would do that for anyone. She's kind and forgiving - she'd do that for anyone."
"No, my Liege. She wouldn't." Marco began to slowly and laboriously crunch his way through the snow. "She couldn't have known that her choice would benefit her as much as it has, but she still did it. For you. As for going to your room at night - she knew you'd be angry if you woke up and saw her. But she still did it."
Was Lucrezia Borgia really prepared to go to such lengths just to get closer to him, and gain his forgiveness - even if it meant risking his displeasure?
"It's entirely possible for you to build something good with her. And tonight could be a great start."
When his friend put a hand on his shoulder, Giovanni eagerly took it.