us.
Nor did servants greet us at the door. Don Federico opened it and called out loudly until two feminine voices chorused from a distance: ‘Who is there?’
One belonged to Donna Elena, my mother’s long-time lady-in-waiting; the other, to Madonna Trusia herself.
Uncle Federico stepped inside the entryway and thundered, ‘No less than the House of Aragon! And we have come to set things aright!’
Trusia appeared in the corridor. She had weathered well; being younger than my father, she had at last reached the age where she was at her fullest womanly bloom, with ripe lips and well-sculpted cheeks beneath large eyes. I drew in a small, silent breath; after a time apart, I was amazed by my mother’s beauty.
At the sight of us standing in the arching doorway, her face brightened at once, and she half-ran to greet us.
Her expression reflected naught but joy; it dimmed only when she registered our sombre-and in the case of Federico, hostile-demeanour.
‘Your Highnesses,’ she addressed the brothers, with a curtsy. Then she craned her neck to peer past them, at Alfonso and me. ‘And my children! How I have missed you! Sancha-it has been so long!’
She opened her arms to me. Despite my hurt and disapproval, I went to her, and let myself be enfolded by them, let my cheeks be kissed-but I could not return the embrace. ‘How?’ I asked bitterly. ‘How could you let yourself be party to such a terrible thing?’
She drew back, puzzled. ‘Your father is ill. How could I abandon him? Besides, his guard compelled me to accompany him.’
Before I could press her further, Alfonso sought out her embrace. His response was more trusting-but still distant. He clearly believed her incapable of wrongdoing, and was waiting for an explanation.
Uncle Federico was disgusted. ‘We have not come here for reunions. A crime against the realm has been committed-a crime, Madonna, in which you share complicity.’
My mother paled visibly, and laid a hand to her throat. ‘It is true, Alfonso abandoned his throne-but he did not know what he was doing. I swear before God, Your Highness, I was not aware of his intention to flee until the very night I was forced at sword-point to join him.’ She paused, then straightened and assumed a slight air of defiance. ‘His only crime is madness. He needs my help, Don Federico. In retrospect, I would have come freely with him. If there was any crime, it was mine alone, in not writing to you to explain the circumstances. But until this morning, when the guards fled, I was not at liberty to do so.’
Federico studied her with a hawk-like gaze for a long moment. He had always liked Trusia; indeed, she had never earned the mistrust of anyone in the court. At last he spoke, his tone solemn and calm. ‘Donna Trusia, let us go inside, where we can speak privately.’
‘Of course.’ She led us to a chamber where she was given leave to sit with us. Prince Federico told her the entire sad tale-of the Crown treasures missing, of Ferrandino returning to discover Naples had neither King nor funds for his soldiers, of our perilous flight from the rebels.
Trusia was shocked by our news. When she recovered herself, she said, ‘You all know I am not given to deceit. I would never support such heinous thievery. Perhaps I am a fool and alone in my ignorance; this morning I was surprised to find that all the servants, with the exception of Donna Elena, had gone. Last night, we heard the rumour that you had arrived in Messina.’
‘They knew,’ my brother responded, ‘and feared recompense.’
‘Indeed,’ Federico interjected with vehemence, ‘if I find them, I will see them hanged for treason.’ He calmed himself. ‘For now, we must recover the Crown treasures, assuming that no one has made off with them. They are our only hope; without them, Ferrandino has no chance of recovering and holding the throne.’
My mother’s reply was simple. ‘Tell me what I must do.’
We were led to the room where my father now spent his days-alone, Trusia said, save for those few times when he made a request of a servant, or had a peculiar question for his mistress. At the door, my mother turned to Federico and Francesco, her expression pleading. ‘You remember how he was in the days before we left…’
‘Yes,’ Francesco replied. His manner was kindlier, more sympathetic than Federico’s. ‘Bedridden. Confused. But there were times we could consult him on matters, when he was quite lucid.’
‘Those times are past,’ my mother answered sadly. ‘He does not remember coming here, or comprehend his situation. You will need diplomacy and patience if you are to recover the treasure.’
She opened the door.
Inside was a vast chamber, sparsely furnished. Its most notable feature was a very broad arched window, spanning from ceiling to floor, and providing a magnificent view of Messina’s harbour.
On the opposite wall stood a very large, ornately carved wooden chair; above it hung a massive wrought iron candelabrum holding some two-score tapers. The combination resembled a throne beneath a canopy; and in the chair sat my father.
His visage startled me. His hair had turned from almost entirely black to mostly grey, and his complexion had taken on the ashen pallor of one who shunned all light. He was noticeably thin, and his royal garb-a blue silk tunic embroidered with gold thread, and a sash decorated with medals from Otranto-hung loosely on his frame.
He had been staring vacantly out the window; when we entered, he gave us the most cursory of glances, as if he still saw us every day, as if he had never left Naples under cover of night.
‘Yes?’ he demanded imperiously; and when, after a pause, all of us-even the vociferous Federico-remained speechless, he stamped his foot in irritation. ‘Do not stand there gaping! Bow, and address me properly!’
Anger flared in Federico’s eye. Ignoring Trusia’s warning look, he stepped forward. ‘I will not bow. But I will address you properly-Your Highness. For that is what you are: a prince who has given up his right to be King.’
My father’s face reddened with fury; he pointed accusingly at his brother and exhorted the rest of us: ‘Seize that man, and punish him for his impudence!’
Another moment of silence passed; Federico faced my father with a hard little smile. ‘Your orders are no good here, Alfonso. Don’t you remember? You abandoned your throne. You left us to face the French alone, and sailed here with Trusia. You gave up your right to the Crown when you fled like a coward, and stole the money Ferrandino needed for our troops.’
Eyes ablaze, my father rose. ‘I am King of the two Sicilies, and you will show me the proper respect!’
‘Stop playing the madman! Naples and Sicily have been separate kingdoms for generations,’ Federico countered heatedly. ‘Your
My father’s face contorted with rage. ‘Liar!’ he screamed. ‘Guards-!’ He turned to Trusia indignantly. ‘Where are the guards? Have them seize this man!’
‘The guards are all gone,’ Trusia answered softly.
‘Listen carefully to me,’ Federico said. ‘There is only one way you can save your life. Tell us where the Crown treasures are, and we will leave you in peace.’
‘Not only a liar, but a thief,’ my father sneered. ‘You would steal my crown. My sword! Trusia, bring me my sword!’ In his agitation, he moved away from his chair and swung a fist at Federico; the latter ducked, missing the blow, but his temper had been ignited. The two brothers locked arms, wrestling, glaring at each other, each panting with the effort to break free from the other’s grasp.
‘You’re as mad as Father!’ Federico shouted. ‘Even madder!’
‘I’ll kill you myself!’ my father shrieked.
My brother Alfonso stepped into the fray; with the help of Francesco, he prised the two apart.
‘Take him from my sight!’ my father screamed, and retook his imaginary throne. Madonna Trusia hurried to his side, whispered something in his ear, then made her way over to where Alfonso and Francesco were still trying to calm Federico.
‘He is too agitated now,’ she said. ‘We will need to try a different approach.’ She gestured for us to leave, then returned to my father’s side and stroked his arm soothingly.
Grudgingly, Federico let himself be led outside, where the rest of us contemplated what to do next.
‘Logic holds no sway here,’ Alfonso said. ‘He cannot be reasoned with. We must play along with his beliefs in order to get what we want.’
