Her eyes were big with excitement. ‘But― why, Ippolito?’
‘The Pope calls you niece, but the relationship is not as close as that. People say that the relationship of the Pope and Alessandro is very close indeed.’
‘You cannot mean―?’
Ippolito laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders; their faces were close and he whispered: ‘The blackamoor is the son of the Holy Father!’
‘And his mother?’ whispered Caterina.
‘Some low serving-girl.’
‘But the Pope himself!’
‘Popes are human.’
‘But they are said to be holy.’
Ippolito laughed gaily. ‘But you and I know differently, eh?’
Caterina was so happy that she threw off completely the restraint of years.
This was wonderful news brought to her by the most wonderful person in the world. She danced round the room; then collapsed on to her stool. Guido jumped on to her lap and started licking her face.
Ippolito laughed aloud to see them. So this was the little cousin whom, until now, he had thought so plain and solemn. He was delighted that his bit of gossip had been able to bring about this transformation.
Caterina made her way down to that chamber of mysteries where Bartolo, the astrologer, spent most of his nights and days. She ran swiftly and silently down the great staircase; she was afraid that she would meet someone and be called upon to explain her presence in this part of the palace.
At this hour of the day, Bartolo took his exercise in the palace grounds; solitary he walked, in his flowing black robes, his white hair flying from beneath the round cap he wore. Embroidered on the cap were the signs of the zodiac; the magician’s person carried with it that odour of his magic room― the scent of herbs and blood of animals, musk, verdigris, civet, and the ingredients from which he made perfumes and lotions, potions and poisons. Few dared approach Bartolo. If any of the serving men and women saw him walking in the grounds, they would look away quickly, and try to forget that they had seen him.
But at this hour, Caterina felt she must be safe. Bartolo was not in the magic chamber, but others were. These were the young brothers, Cosmo and Lorenzo Ruggieri, whom Bartolo was training to become seers and astrologers as he was himself. The boys would be there among the charts, the cauldrons, skeletons of various animals, the perfumes, the bottles and powders. They would be awaiting the coming of their little Duchess, and they would have ready for her that which she asked them to prepare for her.
The staircase narrowed and turned. Now she was in a stone corridor, and she could already smell the sickly sweet odour of the magician’s rooms. She reached a door which led to a passage the end of which was another door that would open into the room itself. She knocked.
‘Enter!’ said the high-pitched voice of Cosmo Ruggieri.
She went into the vaulted room on the walls of which hung parchments decorated with mysterious characters. She glanced at the big chart of the heavens, at the cauldrons standing among the rushes on the floor, and the skeleton of a cat on the bench.
The Ruggieri boys bowed low. They were faithful servants of their little Duchess. Often they had given her charms to protect from the wrath of her aunt and the sorrow of the Cardinal― and all unknown to old Bartolo. Caterina, whose respect for the occult was one of the greatest emotions in her life, admired these two boys who were learning to be magicians.
‘You have it?’ she asked.
Cosmo said: ‘We have. Get it, Lorenzo.’
‘Yes, give it to me quickly,’ said Caterina. ‘It would not do for me to be caught here.’
Lorenzo took a waxen figure from the pocket of his flowing gown. There was no mistaking whom it was meant to represent. The brothers had cunningly reproduced the ugly face and squat figure of Alessandro.
And he will die within three days?’ asked Caterina.
‘Yes, Duchessina, if you pierce the heart at midnight and say: Die, Alessandro! Die! ‘
The lovely dark eyes were opened wide in horror. ‘Cosmo― Lorenzo― it is a bad thing to do. I am afraid.’
‘There are many in this palace, Lady Duchess,’ said Cosmo, ‘who would say it is a good thing to do.’
‘He is going to kill my dog. I know he will― if I do not kill him first.’
‘He will surely die if you pierce the heart of this waxen image,’ said Lorenzo.
‘It is not wrong for me to do this?’ She looked from one to the other.
‘It would not be wrong,’ they chanted simultaneously.
‘Then I will do it.’ She took the figure and, wrapping it in a kerchief, put it into her pocket.
‘ Duchessina,’ said Lorenzo, ‘if any should discover the figure, I beg of you, do not tell whence it came.’
Poor Lorenzo! He could not hide his thoughts. He was terrified of the ugly Moor. He was picturing what would happen to him and his brother if Alessandro discovered that they had supplied the figure.
But Cosmo was bolder. ‘It will not be discovered,’ he said.
‘I swear I would tell none where I found it,’ Caterina assured them. I must go,’ she went on. ‘I shall never forget what I owe you both.’
Hurriedly she made her way to the upper regions of the palace.
In her own apartments she took the image from her pocket and studied it.
But for its size it might have been Alessandro himself that she held in the palm of her hand.
She must do this thing. If she did not, poor Guido would surely die― die agonizingly of poison. Ippolito was her dear friend, but he could not always be at her side to protect her from the cruel Moor, any more than she could always be with Guido. It seemed to her that the only way to save the dog― and at the same time to make life happier for those poor slaves of Alessandro’s― was to remove him from this world altogether.
There was no harm in this, only good.
Caterina was frightened. At midnight, when she had gone to that drawer where she had carefully hidden the figure, it was no longer there. Alessandro had his spies everywhere. They obeyed him because not to obey him meant they would suffer those hideous tortures which he was always inventing.
She was waiting now for Alessandro’s revenge. She knew that it would be terrible, for the Moor would know why she had acquired that figure; he would know exactly what her intentions.
She was startled when a serving-girl came to her room to tell her that her cousin Ippolito wished to see her. Caterina was surprised, for she had thought Ippolito was out hunting. He must have returned sooner than usual. She was glad. Now she could tell her cousin what she had done ; she could ask for his advice and his protection.
When she knocked on his door, there was no answer, so she went in. There were some books on the table, but no sign of Ippolito. He would come soon, she was sure; and she felt at peace. She need not be afraid of Alessandro while Ippolito was in the palace.
And then suddenly she heard the swish of a curtain; she turned with a joyful smile of welcome on her lips, and there, peeping between the curtains which he grasped with his ugly hands, grinning at her, was the hideous face of Alessandro.
She jumped up and gave a little cry of horror; but Alessandro did not look angry; he was smiling; he put a finger to his lips. ‘It is a surprise I have for you, Duchessina.’
She stammered, ‘I― I had not thought to see you here.’
‘No? You thought to find handsome Ippolito. But there are some, Caterina, in this palace, who think me as handsome as Ippolito.’
She gripped the table. She wanted to run, but her legs seemed to have lost their power. Yet she could not control her tongue. She had not really learned those lessons which the Cardinal and her aunt had taken such pains to teach her.