A Queen's last bet

Regina di Pisa

1

I’ve lost track of time. The type that makes you lose count of days and nights… Have I been sleepless for two nights? Three? Maybe more? I am a ghost of myself by this point. I have not touched my breakfast. Nor have I touched any of the meals before that. If I could, I would have chosen to stay in my bedchamber for the whole day but no matter how convinced I am to abandon myself and be lost, I do not know how to abandon my position. I never have. It’s been almost a year since my sixth daughter was born. Six children, all of which are daughters, damn it! What queen gives her king six children but no heir? According to the whispers at court, that would be me, Eleonora Appiani, Queen of Pisa. The people here did not start talking about me only now. The rumors that I am broken started long before my sixth child was even conceived. It was around the fourth year of my marriage that they became more intense, but it is only now that I finally believe in them. There is no other explanation - I am broken.

If it weren’t for King Alessandro’s kindness, I would have been replaced, long ago. He is respectful and not once has blamed me for the misery I have bestowed upon him the kingdom. But, I might be broken, I am nevertheless no fool. I see his sadness and feel his worry. My shortcoming is considered a reflection of his reign and that burdens me more than the heavy garments I am still obliged to wear every single day. More than the bodices that the maids pull tight to make me look as though I were mother to none - which is partly true since daughters do not count. I wish I could be freed by this burden and free Alessandro by the burden that is me. I can tell that he loves me; he doesn’t consider me just a pawn on his board.

With the corner of my eye, I see movement. Lucia, my maid, is coming closer. It must be past breakfast time already. She does not address me; she simply kneels beside me, puts her hands together as if praying and whispers. It's barely audible, but clear. “My Queen, I cannot bear to see you despair like that any longer. I beg of you. Allow me to help.”

The audacity! Did she just ignore protocol to… help me? Ha, I must be the spitting image of misery if a maid is risking her position to do that. I can only look at her in disbelief, unable to react any differently. She notices and immediately panics. She knows how much is on the line, even though no one else is witnessing the scene, so she proceeds blurting out the rest, in hopes that not all is lost. “I know why you are in such a state. It is the rumors. Those horrible lies. My Queen, you are so healthy; it cannot be… It cannot be your fault. I, I’m sorry for daring to speak out of line. I know a ‘healer’. She is… ” “She?” I say before I think twice. “My Queen, she no longer officially practices, but I know she has healed many people… many women, who thought they were at fault.” “You’ve lost your mind, Lucia! This is madness!” “Madness is your suffering my Queen. It kills me to see you like that. Please!”

2

Lucia said that seeing me like this kills her…

So I guess she just decided to risk actual death. Her plea is either madness or a trap. But I am as good as dead by now anyway - or at least that must be how death feels. At court, eyes have been fixed on my every movement for many years now so it is a miracle I managed to disguise myself and slip beyond the palace walls for this madness. Lucia has been the ultimate help throughout all of this. She is now guiding me through dark, narrow alleys and toward streets where a queen would never stroll. It feels like freedom, and, for a while, I am not myself. I do not wear the suffocating garments I should customarily wear. I can breathe. This would be the sweetest breath if it were my last; at least that much is true. We quickly pass by a group of metal workers. The clinking sound of their tools on the hot metal conquers my mind. The hood keeps me from fully taking in my surroundings so I can hardly tell how we come to stand before the healer’s door. Lucia goes ahead and knocks rhythmically on the wooden door. This must be a signal, making this whole operation feel as illegal as it is and even more sinful. The thought makes me want to pray, but I doubt God would welcome my prayer now.

A maid opens the door and invites us in with a gesture. She is keeping her head and gaze low, showing discretion. We enter the house of Madonna Agnese della Luna, and with that, any way back is gone.

3

The entry room is dark but well-decorated, as if it belongs to someone in good standing in society. Can a woman alone can have a home like this? As if Lucia hears my thoughts, she whispers to me. “Madonna Agnese is the widow of a doctor and she was a respectable healer herself before she began helping women like you.” She then turns to the maid that welcomed us in and hands her the bag of gold we had prepared. “My Lady wishes that her name not be disclosed. I will speak on her behalf.” The maid bows and offers out her hands so Lucia can place the bag of gold in them. Without lifting her eyes from the floor, she confirms. “Fear not. Whatever takes place in the quarters of Madonna Agnese della Luna will stay a secret forever.” She leads us farther inside.

The healer’s room is completely stripped of natural light, unlike the main room. It looks like there are no windows, but I assume they must be covered with dark fabric. A female healer is a rare finding, let alone, one that is willing to work on ‘fixing’ the broken-ones like myself - no wonder why society has reacted this way. Madonna is seated on a chair, absorbed in reading a heavy book under the candlelight. She reacts to our presence by lifting her head, getting of the chair and… bowing? Did I see well? There is no way she would know who I am, is there? Her movement was so slight I must be hallucinating. Yes, this must be it, my mind is simply playing games. Lucia went forward first and bowed to the healer. “My lady needs your help. She has had many children already, all girls, all born healthy, without complications. She is young and appears in perfect health herself but she is yet to bear a son. She fears she might be broken or, worse, cursed by God. Please help us!” Madonna looked me up and down - not that she can see much under my hood and cloak. “My Lady,” she proceeds to address me, “allow me to ask a few examination questions.” “I will answer for my Lady!” Lucia rushes to explain. “So be it.” Madonna agrees. “Please fill me in on the regularity of your Lady’s menses. Any unusual discharge? When was the last time her temperature was taken and what was the result?” “Menses are regular and stable, color as expected. Nothing unusual is observed with the discharge and her temperature has been taken more than a week ago, indicating a warmer womb.” Lucia reported without missing a beat. “Very well.” Madonna observes, finally taking her eyes off me and turning to Lucia. Have you brought what I asked you for?” Lucia confirmed handing her the small glass bottle with my urine “Sì, Madonna.” Madonna takes it and moves closer to the candles to examine it. She first examines the color, seeming pleased with it, and then opens the bottle to smell it. I flinch. I always flinched when this happened during examinations. I had six children and I am still not used to it. She closes it and gives it back to Lucia. “From your report and the looks of your lady’s urines, I can confirm your assumption holds true. She is perfectly healthy and suitable to bear a boy. She is not broken.” She purposefully pronounces the last word with what seems like disgust towards the very notion of me being at fault. “Now for the hard part, my Lady,” she says mockingly, turning her gaze back to me. What a piercing gaze! It makes my hair rise “the reason why you have not had a son yet is not you, it is your husband. You will only have a son if you sleep with another man.”

My eyes open wide and my whole body goes numb. This is treason. If I weren’t dead before, now I truly am.

4

This day is never ending and this night seems like it’s going to be even longer. I have been crying since we returned at the palace. I haven’t believed the healer’s words for a second. I shouldn’t! But regardless, the sole thought that everything could be a lie is enough to drive me crazy. If I weren’t broken. If it wasn’t my fault. I would have spent all this time hating myself for nothing… All this hate of the world toward me would be for nothing. It is unconceivable! I start crying again. By now, I stopped muting my cries with the pillow. What is the point? Everyone knows the queen is loosing it, that she's broken and unfit to be a queen. But what if they are all wrong? What was what Madonna had said? There is no woman that visited her and wasn’t healed! On this thought, my cry turns to a manic laugh. What choice do I have, other than to try? I am already dead. If I do not act, I will be replaced. And worse, if I do not act, it means I failed.

5

I cannot fail, not without making one last attempt!

It’s been a week since I visited the healer and decided to pull myself together and risk it all. The plan has been meticulously crafted. Lucia is my lieutenant. If we fail, we go down together.

It’s also been a week since I finally visited the chambers of King Alessandro. Madonna Agnese specifically told me that such an endeavor cannot work if I abstain from my marital duties for too long. And so I went. But this time it was not the same as before. I was different, reborn! He seemed to notice. He seemed to crave this new woman who was presenting herself to him.

Since then, I have been as visible as ever; always in public view. Promenading daily through the palace, like I do now, making sure to always pass by the west wing balcony, always stopping to watch the soldiers sparring. To watch HIM. The other man could not be just anyone. He had to be someone special, worth risking it all for. The captain of the royal guard, Matteo Rinaldi, was thirty four years old, robust and unmarried. His hair and eye colors were close to those of the king. If this works, if I become pregnant with another man’s son, he should look as much like King Alessandro as possible.

I stop at the opening of the balcony. Lucia stops beside me and we stay there, silent and observant. Luckily, today I arrived right on time for the captain’s sparring session. The sun is up and it is hot outside, so most of the soldiers have removed their tunics, including him. I find myself attracted to him and that should make my task a bit easier. He is also a good man. He is loyal to the crown and he is brave. He has been fighting for the country since a young age and he has been victorious time and time again. If the subtle looks I’ve caught being directed my way are any indication, the task should not be so dull for him either. “Soldiers will start noticing if we stand here too long.” Lucia whispers from beside me, without taking her visibly intrigued eyes of the scene. My lips curve upwards and I nod. She is so young and hopeful. I wonder if she knows how badly things could end for the two of us - the three of us, if the captain is also caught. “Let’s continue then.” I reply.

I planned everything to happen on the night of the annual illuminations for the Feast of San Ranieri. That night, everyone else will be too busy celebrating. Everyone else will be too drunk to remember if they saw their queen somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. And I shall be at the right window in my cycle, ready to conceive a son. Of course, this is not the last step of the plan, far from it. The night after, I shall visit the king again and seal the deal. This way, if I am blessed with a son, no one will suspect me of treason.

They called me broken. They called me crazy. Yet I am the Queen of Pisa.

Capitano della Guardia

6

It is about nine months after that night with Eleonora - the queen, I correct my thoughts.

We just received word that the queen gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl, which means she just gave birth to the heir to the crown of Pisa. They say that the queen and her babies appear healthy. Thank God!

My pulse has been unusually high since this morning, when we were informed that the labor had begun. The stakes were high for Pisa, and so everyone should know by now. My thoughts have been spiraling for the past eight months, since it was announced that she was with child, with children - what if they are mine?

When I received this letter back in June, the night of the Feast of San Ranieri, I could not be sure what it was about. It was given to me by the queen’s personal maid. I had no reason to see it as anything other than direct orders. The letter said I had a mission. I should refrain from drinking during the celebrations and, when the clock struck midnight, I should already be in my chambers - it mentioned that the rest of the mission would be explained to me then. I complied with the order in the letter. I went back to my chambers before midnight and I waited for the next order to come. Instead, someone knocked at the door and a cloaked figure entered the room. I will never forget my surprise when the hood of the cloak was removed and I realized that in front of me was standing the queen, in my very own chambers. I then felt panic and awe. Whatever she was doing was not legal, but I could tell that it was important. I felt grateful to be able to regard her face from this close; it was not often that a subject like me would get this chance. And she was breathtaking. She moved closer to me, never removing her eyes from mine. That’s when I saw it. Her hazel eyes were the most imposing thing I had ever seen. No matter how risky this mission was, the queen had nothing to lose. She was not afraid, only determined to succeed no matter the cost. She explained to me then that I had been selected to sleep with her, that disobeying this order would be a dishonor to her and the crown, and that I must take this secret to my grave. I can still recall the shock I felt when she revealed the “mission” that was bestowed upon me. I tried to think of the best answer to what I had just heard, the best course of action, but she left me no time. She thew herself on me, putting her arms around my neck and pressing her lips on mine. And then, I could no longer think. I surrendered.

Ever since that night, I have hardly exchanged a word with her. It wasn’t my place to so much as to look at her, let alone speak to her. For nine months, I have been dying inside. Because I fell in love. I fell in love like a little boy would have. Yet I am no boy. I am a man, and I may as well be a father for all I know. But I cannot claim this position; that would mean my death indeed. That would be enough for her to lose her life, and the kids… I cannot even think about this. That would also kill my king. His sadness would ruin him. And I cannot allow it. As long as my treason remains a secret, it is for a good cause. The only solution is for me to resign and be assigned as the guardian of the heir - hopefully they’ll also make me guardian of the little girl too. That will be for the queen to decide. If she is against it, she will find a reason to convince the king otherwise. I hope she will not.

I cannot waste any time. If I let my misery consume me, I might do something stupid. I turn to the closest person in the yard. “Cadet, arrange for me to see the king tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I have important matters to discuss with him.” “Sì, Capitano!” he replies immediately and runs.

Now I just need to make it through the night.