CHAPTER EIGHT
I whimpered, a most unattractive noise, like our old dog complaining about the city bells.
“I know.” Madame Culatello twisted her hands in self-reproach. “Rosie, I’m sorry!”
I cared nothing for her distress; this was a disaster of epic proportions. “I need that ring, and I know you’ve had it in your grasp!”
“The gentleman in the scarlet satyr mask took it from me.”
“Count Prospero?” I projected with a little too much high-pitched vigor. No, please, not Count Prospero!
“It was he who opened the door and released the two...lads—”
“Damn the luck!” I had hoped differently.
“—And he observed my astonishment when I saw the treasure I held. I tried not to release it, Rosie, I vow I struggled, but he’s tall and strong, a demon who never hesitates to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals.” She touched her throat.
I saw bruises forming on her pale skin. “He throttled you to get your cooperation?”
“He throttled me to make me confess to whom the ring belonged.”
I rocked back on my heels, stricken into horrified silence. Then, “You recognized her?”
“Not Princess Isabella, but the ring. I knew her father, Prince Escalus the Elder. When his much-loved wife, Eleanor, could no longer perform in the marriage bed for fear of her health, he came here for relief and a moment away from his cares.”
I stifled a sigh. All gentlemen in Verona used La Gnocca (with the exception of Papà, and that according to Madame Culatello) and their wives and mistresses turned their faces away and pretended not to know.
The words blurted out of me. “Does the current Prince Escalus come here?”
Madame widened her eyes as if amused. “What do you mean?”
“Does Prince Escalus visit La Gnocca to relieve himself of masculine...needs?” Why was I asking? Why should I care? Was I any different than all the other wives in Verona?
“Never.” Madame Culatello lifted her proud, determined chin. “The prince supports us. He understands we provide a much-needed service to the city.”
“Good,” I mumbled. I didn’t care if Escalus had a mistress on every corner! Of a certainty, he was going to marry me, but no man ever took those vows with any intention of keeping them. They widely spread their seed among as much of the populace as they could, and... Well, except Papà.
Unaware of my rebellious thoughts, Madame Culatello continued, “Yet our prince is a man of great restraint, learned in the dungeons under the rods and whips of the Acquasasso. He cared for his young wife, Princess Chiarretta, given to him by politics as a match that brought the family properties and would support his claim as the leader of the city.”
Papà had pledged his troth to Mamma and cleaved to her alone.
If Romeo and Juliet did not exist, every girl in Verona would enter the marriage bower with no expectations of a great love. But they proved a great love between a couple was possible, and that created hope in all the youthful bosoms.
Of course, if Romeo and Juliet didn’t exist...neither would I.
Madame Culatello rambled on, speculating about the Veronese aristocracy, as did we all. “I suspect Prince Escalus did his duty to the match, but passion never touched him. Indeed, after his early experiences in the dungeon and his father’s murder, I fear his ability to feel passion has been burned away.”
About that, I could have told her she was wrong, but I held my tongue.
I can, you know.
Really. I can.
“When his wife died in childbirth,” Madame Culatello said, “I offered our services. With much courtesy, he refused, and nothing I’ve heard has led me to believe he has ever carelessly tumbled another. It’s only recently he’s begun to show signs of...restlessness, shall we say?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a scent a man gives off when he’s on the hunt. When he’s found the woman he will have, and he’s determined to have her. In the last months, whenever I’ve seen Prince Escalus in the market or spoken to him of civil matters, for he consults me with his concerns, I’ve smelled that scent on him.” Madame Culatello leaned down to my eye level and looked into my face. “You know what I mean, Lady Rosaline. He has found his mate. Tonight the rumor flies about the city—he’s claimed her.”
“Does everyone in Verona know what happened at Casa Montague this evening?”
“Doubt it not,” Madame Culatello said.
I rubbed my aching forehead. “Yes. He’s claimed me.”
She straightened and beamed. “I’m so glad. He’s a good man, Rosie, and you’re an intelligent, capable woman.”
“So I’ve been told.” Not to be bitter, but... “And not as a compliment.”
“Pshaw!” She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “You’re what he needs to direct the city and give him a private life of warmth, passion and humor. It’s a good match.”
“I’m glad you approve.” Although most people wouldn’t care what Verona’s shrewdest madame thought, I knew her to be, of necessity, smart about people and how to match them. If I had to be married, I’d like to think my husband and I would enjoy a private life of warmth, passion and humor. I only hoped with Escalus I wouldn’t be alone in supplying those traits.
I rubbed my forehead again. Such absurd thoughts. I desperately needed more sleep. “Madame, you were telling me how Prince Escalus the Elder obtained the ring which this night Princess Isabella lost.”
“When Prince Escalus wished to buy Eleanor a kingly gift, he asked my advice and I steered him to an honest merchant who sold him a ring. That ring.”
“You told Count Prospero the truth? You told him that lad was...Princess Isabella?”
“To my shame, I did.”
“Who services him? Is he here now?”
“Uria. He used her quickly and left.”
I covered my face in horror.
Grimly, Madame Culatello said, “I’ll question her about their activities; I suspect she’s betrayed us.”
“Perhaps he hurt her.”
“Uria is motivated merely by the lure of gold. Nothing more holds sway with her.”
Hiding my eyes couldn’t solve this problem, so I straightened. “What ransom does he demand?”
“A hundred gold pieces in a wooden strongbox to be delivered tonight to the masquerade.”
“Tonight? Tonight?” I was incredulous. “I’m supposed to find and deliver a hundred gold pieces tonight?”
“I have a hundred gold pieces. You can take them as payment for my failure.” Madame Culatello sounded brave, but she lifted her bony hands as if she could see the coins trickling between her reluctant fingers.
“Don’t be silly, Madame. I can handle it.” I lifted the leather bag from my belt, jingled it and with sarcasm said, “I’ve got a good start. Two gold pieces, a handful of silver and—” I halted. A mask. I had a mask, given to me by Count Prospero’s lover.
My first thought was that it didn’t take a Hamlet to realize I’d been manipulated by a mastermind, but for what purpose?
The second thought followed swiftly on the first... It would take a mastermind to counter Count Prospero’s machinations. A slow smile stretched my mouth as I considered Madame Culatello. “Madame, Count Prospero is known as a gambler, a cool gamesman who takes all wagers. Is that not so?”
“Truth.”
“And he honors his debts?”
“That is his reputation.”
“Very good. I’ll take temporary custody of your gold, with the hope of losing only a few coins, if I can count on your cooperation and the assistance of some of your ladies.” I smiled with diabolical glee. “I have a plan.”