As one of my ladies hurried into the chamber and cleaned my hand with a damp cloth, Jofre propped himself up on his elbows and stared at the two men. His cheeks flushed bright scarlet at the realization that his performance had been the subject of a wager.
The cardinal registered his discomfort and laughed. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, boy. I lost because I didn’t believe you would get so far. You endured longer than most your age. Now we can all get to the real business at hand.’
But my husband’s eyes had filled with mortified tears; he moved away from me and huddled on his side of the bed.
His suffering allowed me to transcend my own shame. My actions did not spring from a desire to be done quickly with this sordid business, but from a desire to free Jofre from his unhappiness. He seemed a gentle soul; he did not deserve such cruelty.
I rolled toward him and whispered in his ear. ‘They mock us because they envy us, Jofre. Look at them: they are old. Their time is past. But we are young.’ I placed his palms upon my breasts. ‘There is no one else in the room. It is only you and I together, here in our marriage bed.’
For pity’s sake, I kissed him-softly, with tender passion, as Onorato had once kissed me. I closed my eyes, blotting out the sight of our tormentors, and imagined I was with my former lover. I ran my hands over Jofre’s narrow, bony back, then down between his thighs. He shivered, and moaned when I caressed his maleness, just as I had been taught; soon he was firm enough to be guided into me, this time successfully.
I kept my eyes closed. In my mind’s eye, there was nothing in the world save me, my new husband, and the approaching thunder.
Jofre was no Onorato. He was small, and I received little stimulation; had it not been for his violent thrusting and the fact I had helped him enter me, I would scarcely have known he penetrated me.
Still, I held on tightly; given the pressure against my chest, I could not help releasing gasps. I only hoped he interpreted them as sounds of pleasure.
After perhaps a minute, the muscles of his legs stiffened; with a howl, he reared his torso backwards. I opened my eyes and saw his own widen with astonishment, then roll upwards, at which point I knew we had met with success.
He collapsed atop me, panting. I felt the subtle sensation of his male organ shrinking inside me, then sliding out altogether; with it came liquid warmth.
I knew that this time, there would be no sexual pleasure for me. Onorato might have cared about satisfying my desire, but it was of no concern to the three men here tonight.
‘Well done, well done,’ the cardinal said, with a faint note of disappointment that his task was so swiftly completed. He blessed us and the bed.
Just behind him stood my father. With Jofre still lying atop me, I stared up at the man who had betrayed me, keeping my gaze cold, heartless. I did not want him to have the pleasure of seeing the unhappiness he had inflicted.
He wore a small, victorious smile; he did not care that I hated him. He was glad to be done with me, even gladder to have received something of value in exchange.
The two men left, and my new husband and I were finally alone. My ladies would not trouble us until morning, when the sheets would be collected as further evidence of our contract’s consummation.
For a long moment, Jofre lay atop me in silence. I did nothing, for after all, he was now my lord and master and it would be rude to interrupt him. And then he pushed my hair behind my ear, and whispered, ‘You are so beautiful. They described you to me, but words cannot do you justice. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’
‘You are sweet, Jofre,’ I replied sincerely. A boy he might be, but a likeable one, utterly guileless, if lacking in intelligence. I could grow fond of him…but never love him. Not the way I had loved Onorato.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, with a sudden vehemence. ‘I’m so sorry…I-I-’ Quite abruptly, he burst into tears.
‘Oh, Jofre.’ I wrapped my arms about him. ‘I’m sorry they were horrible to you. What they did was unspeakable. And what you did was-it was perfectly normal.’
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘It’s not the bet. It was unkind of them, yes, but I am a terrible lover. I know nothing about pleasuring women. I knew I would disappoint you.’
‘Hush,’ I said. He tried to pull up and away, onto his elbows, but I pressed him down against me, against my breasts. ‘You are simply young. We all begin inexperienced…and then we learn.’
‘Then I will learn, Sancha,’ he promised. ‘For your sake, I will learn.’
‘Hush,’ I said, holding him to me like the child he was, and began to stroke his long, soft hair.
Outside, the storm had finally broken, and the rain came down in sheets.
Summer 1494-Winter 1495
V
Early the next morning, Jofre and I left on the journey to our new home in the southernmost reaches of Calabria. I kept my private vow to be brave: I embraced my brother and mother and kissed them both good-bye without shedding a tear; we all repeated promises to visit, to write.
King Alfonso II, of course, could not be bothered to take his leave.
Squillace was a rock scalded by the sun. The town itself stood perched atop a steep promontory. Our palace, painfully rustic by Neapolitan standards, lay far from the sea, the view partially blocked by the ancient monastery founded by the scholar Cassiodorus. The coastline was stark and spare, lacking Naples’ full, graceful curve, and the faded leaves of scraggly, struggling olive orchards constituted the only greenery. The region’s greatest contribution to the arts, of which the populace was immensely proud, was its red-brown ceramics.
The palace was a disaster; furniture and shutters were broken, cushions and tapestries torn, walls and ceilings cracked. The temptation to yield to self-pity and to curse my father for sending me to such a dismal place was great. Instead, I occupied myself with making the palace into a suitable dwelling for royalty. I ordered fine velvet to replace the moth-eaten brocade on the aged thrones, had the worn wood refinished, and sent for fine marble to replace the uneven terra cotta floor of the throne room. The private chambers of the royal couple-the prince’s to the immediate right of the throne room, the princess’ to the left-were in even worse disrepair, and required me to order even more fabrics and hire more craftsmen to set things aright.
Jofre kept himself occupied in quite a different manner. He was young, and away from his domineering family for the first time; now that he was master of his own kingdom, he had no idea how to comport himself properly-and so he did not. Soon after our arrival in Squillace, we were descended upon by a group of Jofre’s male friends from Rome, all of them eager to celebrate the new prince’s good fortune.
In the first few days after our marriage-including the time spent in our comfortable carriage during our southward journey-Jofre half-heartedly tried to make good on his promise to become a better lover. But he tended towards ineptitude and impatience; his own desire soon overwhelmed him, and he usually fulfilled his own needs without addressing mine. After the tenderness and tears he had displayed on our wedding night, I had hoped that I had found someone as kind as my brother. I soon learned that Jofre’s pretty words sprang not so much from compassion as a desire to placate. There was a great difference between goodness and weakness, and Jofre’s agreeable nature was born of the latter.
This was made abundantly clear after the appearance of Jofre’s friends a week after our arrival in Squillace. All of them were young nobles, some married, most not, none of them older than me. There was a pair of his relatives as well, both recently descended upon Rome in order to make the most of their connections to His Holiness: a
