The Golden Key (65 page)

The popular verdict: she was with child. And indeed this proved to be the case, though formal announcement did not come until that evening when the torches were lighted and a second, more boisterous procession wove through the streets, with singing and dancing and thousands of bottles of last year’s wine.

Arrigo told his parents first, as was proper. Mechella blushed becomingly when, the moment the four were alone in the private Grand Ducal suite, he said, “Papa, Mama, I present to you Mechella—mother of your grandson!”

“So soon?” Cossimio roared with laughter. “Quick work, boy!”

“Isn’t that just like a man?” Gizella made a face at her husband and went forward to embrace the girl. “They think
they
do all the work of making a baby, when in reality their task lasts only a few minutes!”

The Grand Duke let out a guffaw to tremble the rafters. “’Zella! Arrigo’s a strong young buck—half an hour at the least! And I know you’re not speaking from your
own
experience!”

“I’ll thank you to keep a decent tongue between your teeth, Cossi!” To Mechella, who had crimsoned, she added, “Men! Eiha, carrida meya, I’ll keep you here only a little while, and then you must rest.” They sat on a velurro-covered sofa and Gizella clasped both Mechella’s hands. “Arrigo is moronno luna to have paraded you all that way among thousands of people intent on getting a look at you. You must be scared half to death.”

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Mechella responded bravely but not quite convincingly. “I was glad to see them, and glad they wished to see me. I hope they’ll like me.”

“Bound to,” Cossimio said, “and don’t worry your pretty head about it for an instant.” Flopping into a chair, he undid the buttons of his heavy red robes. “Matra ei Filho, this heat! Arrigo, have someone fetch us cold drinks.” As his son moved to the bellrope, he went on, “You just be your own sweet lovely self, gattina, and they’ll adore you. They ask only a smile and a kindness—’Zella can tell you all about what a Grand Duchess does, for she does it to perfection.”

Mechella, who had never in her long-legged life been called “kitten,” smiled at her husband’s father. To her surprise, his gaze
narrowed above his thick black beard and he studied her most minutely.

“I must say,” he told her at last, “you’ve nothing to worry about in the smiling department. Your picture doesn’t half do you justice—and won’t Mequel have fits when I tell him so!” This sent him into another braying laugh, after which he glanced at Arrigo with that same taut, evaluating look. “You left a Grijalva behind at Aute-Ghillas?”

“Itinerarrio Dioniso, to finish up some portraits. He’ll be back soon, I think.” Entry of a servant with a tray of iced drinks and small cakes interrupted him. When the family was alone once more and Gizella was busy pouring and parceling, Arrigo went on, “I think Candalio might do as the permanent Limner. He’s about my age, and very accomplished.”

“Who? Oh, the one who painted the
Deed
to Caza Reccolto this spring when we gave it to—”

“Do you prefer almond cakes or walnut, Mechella?” the Grand Duchess said smoothly.

“Almond is my favorite,” she replied. “Grassia—no, that’s the wrong way to say ‘thank you,’ isn’t it?”

“You’ll learn very quickly, I know,” Gizella said. “Our ‘grazzo’ does multiple duty as ‘thanks’ and ‘please’ and ‘you’re welcome’—probably because we all talk so fast we can’t be bothered with more than one word for all three concepts!”

Mechella laughed lightly. “Most Tira Virteians
do
speak very quickly, like fireworks or shooting stars! And I’ve noticed that it’s because you take out syllables here—or Ghillasians add them, I’ve never discovered which. Do you know, Arrigo?”

“Probably a little of both, ‘Chella,” he answered with a smile.

“’Chella! What a sweet version of your name!” said the Grand Duchess. “I’d been wondering what to call you.”

“My mother used it.”

“You lost her a very long time ago, I know, and it’s very sad. But I hope you’ll allow me to be just a little motherly toward you, ‘Chella. I always wanted lots of daughters, but managed only one.”

“One was enough,” Cossimio observed pointedly. “Not since Benecitta has there been a do’Verrada with a six-foot personality inside a five-foot body.”

“I told you about Benecitta,” Arrigo said to his wife. “The great family scandal. I’ll show you her portrait in the Galerria tomorrow.”

“Most do’Verrada women are very short,” Gizella explained further. “Our Lizia just tops five feet, and Cossi’s aunt was even
smaller. I don’t know why that is, because the men are quite tall. You’ll stand out by standing up straight, carrida, and I hope your girls take after you!”

“It might be like the Grijalva Gift,” said the Grand Duke with a shrug. “The men have it, the women don’t. Now that I think on it, Candalio isn’t the best choice for Aute-Ghillas, Arrigo. Terrible reputation with the ladies.”

“It was only a suggestion,” Arrigo said rather stiffly.

“Close cousin of—um, Zara Grijalva, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” His voice was wooden now. “Of Zara Grijalva.”

Gizella rose in a swirl of golden satin. “If you’re going to bore us with politics, we’re leaving. Come, ‘Chella. I’ll show you your rooms and you can have a nice rest before dressing for dinner. Has Arrigo explained our duties of the evening? I’m afraid we’ll be up rather late.”

She escorted Mechella from the salon on a wave of pleasant chatter. Up a flight of stairs, down three corridors, and past a dozen Shagarra sentries, they finally reached the Heir’s private apartments.

“I had it all redone,” said Gizella. “I hope you like it. Here’s your bedroom, with bath and dressing room between it and Arrigo’s. A private sitting room and office for each of you—”

“Office?” Mechella sat on the huge bed, all hung with blue and green with silver stitching, and flooded with white lace.

“You’ll have a secretary to manage your engagements, which will include official duties, charities, and various social functions. But you needn’t worry about that now—or indeed until after your baby is born. Everyone will understand if you keep to yourself until then.”

“But I
want
to do it all! I’m Arrigo’s wife now, I know I have responsibilities, and I’m looking forward to them.”

“I’m sure you are, and I’m sure your training was the very finest. But here in Tira Virte—eiha, pregnancy excuses one from all that. It’s a very holy time in a woman’s life, ‘Chella. Like the Blessed Mother, all her strength goes into nurturing her child.”

“Yes—yes, of course, I only meant—”

“I know, dolcha meya.” Gizella patted her hand. “But don’t worry one instant about anything at all. Everyone will expect you not to be very visible for a while.”

“I hope my baby is a boy,” Mechella said fervently. “I want so much to be everything Arrigo wants—and everything you and the Grand Duke and all the people expect—”

“Carrida mennina! You heard Cossi. Just be yourself. He and I
love you already, and it’s certain Arrigo adores you! I had only to see his face to know it. I nearly wept there in the Imagos to see him so happy, and I have you to thank for it.”

“Your Grace—”

“Gizella if you must, ‘Zella if you like—” She giggled suddenly, like a little girl. “’Zella and ‘Chella! How dreadful!”

The Grand Duchess’ laughter was infectious. “At least it’s accidental! There’s a family in southern Ghillas named deLosia, and they named their three daughters Rosia, Tamosia, and—”

“Zosia!” Gizella guessed, crowing as Mechella nodded. “Let’s hope the poor things get married as soon as possible!”

“Rosia did, just before I left—” Laughing so hard she could barely get the words out, she finished, “—to Baron deProssia!”

When both women had caught their breath, Gizella said, “Why do people do such things to innocent children? Bad enough to pass along a family trait like huge ears or a cast in one eye, but—really!”

“What do the Grijalvas pass along to their children? What did the Grand Duke mean about them?”

“Nothing very important or interesting. They’re clever painters, some better than others. For instance, the one you met at Aute-Ghillas, Dioniso—he’s said to be brilliant at portraits but terrible at landscapes. Lord Limner Mequel—you’ll meet him soon, he’s a wonderful man and he’ll paint your baby’s
Birth
—he can sketch a rose with a pencil on any old scrap of paper, and you’d vow you could smell its fragrance! Almost all the Grijalvas are talented, but each has a special gift, just as the rest of us do.”

“I see. I thought perhaps the reference was to Tazia Grijalva. Arrigo’s Mistress.”

Gizella blinked several times. “What? Her? Surely you’re not concerned over something that was over long ago?”

“Thank you for not denying that he was … involved with her,” Mechella said with simple dignity. “No, I’m not worried. I’m only curious. Will—will she be at Court?”

Gizella shrugged. “The Grijalvas and the do’Verradas have an arrangement stretching back hundreds of years. There used to be a family called Serrano, a very long time ago, which competed with the Grijalvas. But the Grijalvas are so obviously the superior artists that the Serranos faded away. Anyway, this arrangement is a political one, with the Grijalvas supplying not only the Lord Limners for Tira Virte, but also a nice, pleasant, pretty young woman to—”

“I know,” Mechella said. “My brother Enrei told me ail about it. And it does seem very sensible.”

“Yes, it is, and it’s worked out very well for all concerned. Why, Cossi’s former Mistress, Lissina, and I are very good friends. Delightful woman, you’ll like her, too. Are you tired? Would you like to talk about this later?”

“If you’ve time, I’d prefer to hear it now.”

“Eiha, as you wish.” She tilted her head to one side, a little smile on her face. “When I first came here from Granidia, a new young bride like you, Lissina helped me through the maze of protocol among the Courtfolk with all the sweetness of a sister. You’re young and beautiful, Arrigo chose you as his wife, and you’re the mother of his child. No mere Mistress can compete, I assure you from personal experience!”

Mechella stared at her hands. “But—but if she still wants him—”

“Mistresses know that once the Heir marries, their time is over,” Gizella said firmly. “For the sake of their own standing in the world, they don’t make a fuss or do anything silly. And every do’Verrada is tender of his bride’s feelings. Cossimio told me he’d send Lissina from Court, but I told him not to be absurd, we’d already become friends and she was about to marry the Baron do’Dregez so she’d be here anyhow, and why make a fuss? I knew he loved me.”

“Gizella … I don’t think I’m as good and kind a person as you are. I don’t want the Grijalva woman anywhere near me—or Arrigo.”

“Perfectly understandable, but I think you’ll find your worry is all for nothing. Tazia knows her duty and her place. Now, be easy in your mind about all of it, carrida, and let me send your maid in to help you out of those stifling clothes. I’ll wake you in time for dinner. Afterward we show ourselves at the balcony during the procession through the streets. It’s very pretty—torches blazing, people singing and dancing—” She giggled again. “My first Providenssia here, Lissina and I borrowed our maids’ dresses and sneaked out to mingle with the crowds. How we danced, and with such handsome young men! And, do you know, one of them turned out to be Cossi!”

“En verreio?” Mechella laughed.

“En verro,” Gizella corrected, smiling. “He and I were both very young, and months of uninterrupted Court life had us both longing for escape. We hadn’t let on to each other, you see, for fear of causing disappointment. The very next day he took me to Chasseriallo, our hunting lodge, and all autumn we lived alone together with only a single servant! You were raised at a much grander court than
this, so you’re used to all the duties and pressures, but there may come a time when you need Chasseriallo. It belongs to Arrigo now, and he loves it and takes any excuse to visit. So you bear that in mind, carrida.” She got up from the bed, smoothed her skirts, and began taking pins from her upswept dark hair. “I’ll send in your maid now.”

“I—I haven’t one.”

“What?”

“Aunt Permilla said I must become Tira Virteian in all things. And I agree with her,” she said determinedly. “I’d be very grateful if you’d help me choose my servants—and advise me about clothes and correct my accent and—”

Gizella sighed. “Lissina did all those things for me. Except the accent, of course—I was born in Castello Granidia! But Lissina is unique, and I suppose we mustn’t expect the same from Tazia. I would never have allowed her to become Arrigo’s Mistress if there was anything wrong with her character, but she’s no Lissina.”

The maid’s name was Otonna. She was a broad-faced, cheerful girl, immediately likable, extremely efficient. When she had come, unlaced Mechella’s bodice, wrapped her in a silken bedrobe, and departed, the new Dona lay back on the lacy bed and reflected on her introduction to her new family, her new home, her new people. If it all bore a delicate patina of joy and wonder due to the love she bore Arrigo and the promise of bearing a son, there was yet a dark blemish of rust: Tazia Grijalva. She was no Lissina, warmly welcoming to her former lover’s bride; and Mechella was no Gizella, bred and born in the country, accustomed to its traditions.

Still … she
was
young, Arrigo did love her, and she carried his child. What barren, aging, cast-off Mistress could possibly compete?

  THIRTY-SEVEN