the Duke’s torturers will discover. That’s their task. Mine is but to escort your son to the city.’
A wail from Poggio’s mother, a convulsive wriggle from Poggio and he was free from her and heading for the door. Sigismondo’s sword across the door had the speed of him. Had Poggio been able to think, he might have preferred a quick death then to a slow one later, but a sword can be an eloquent object in the hand of a man with Sigismondo’s face. He stopped. He was gestured back to the bed, and Sigismondo sat down again, holding out his cup to be refilled. Once full, it was handed to Poggio.
‘Now you will answer my questions. Tell me the truth, and I shall know if it is the truth; and you will be spared the torture.’
It was not a complete surprise that Poggio did not know where to begin when the end was so clearly in sight: a gallows. To confess to stealing the Duchess’s ring was to ask for death, which would be likely to arrive in a quite complicated way. Poggio drank his ale and was silent.
The pig found something in a corner and ate it, loudly.
‘Did you see her Grace, dead?’
It was a brutal question asked brutally. It startled Poggio into a reply.
‘I didn’t know she was dead, at first. Thought she was asleep.’ He was aggrieved. The Duchess had imposed on him, had put him in a difficult position.
‘How did you come to be there?’
‘In her room?’
‘In the Palace at all. The Duke had forbidden you. How did you get in?’
Poggio could not resist a smile. It made his eyes crease and his nose turn up even more. He had a face made for telling jokes.
‘There were plenty of us about. The big folk never know one from another. I know all the ways in and out of the Palace... There’s a little room just off the Duchess’s—’
‘By the bed head, with a jib door.’
Poggio nodded. ‘I waited there to see if I could talk to her Grace, alone. To ask her to speak to the Duke for me. She had a kind heart.’ He crossed himself; the kind heart beat no more. ‘I thought I’d have to wait until the feast ended, but I’d hardly dozed off when I heard her voice coming nearer. That’s a bit of luck, I thought.’ Poggio’s voice had almost a cajoling note, the note of innocence hard done by. ‘Thought it all the more when I heard her sending the maids off. No Lady Cecilia either, which is a lady I’d avoid if I could. So I was coming out of my corner, and ready to slip through the jib door and go down on my knees, not a trick I find easy, when I heard her Grace talking again.’
‘You heard what she said?’
‘It was nothing but a mumble, from either of them. Like you’d use to a lover. Lover it was, too, on account of the noise they were making not that long after. Gave that bed a beating.’ His eyes disappeared in their creases, but either memory, or the gravity of his listener, made him serious. ‘Oh, you can believe I kept quiet — that was a tight corner to be in. I couldn’t hope for any favours from her if she found I’d been watching.’
‘Watching?’ The word was a pounce and Poggio nearly dropped the cup.
‘Listening! I meant listening ! I couldn’t see anything, I tell you. I had the door a little open, yes, but it opens away from the bed, as your honour will have seen.’
Sigismondo bent his head a little in agreement. ‘And then?’
‘He must have left. I couldn’t hear anything after they’d finished. The fireworks were going off. She’ll be lying there resting, I thought, and doesn’t she need to after that bout of Venus. Lying there with a smile on her face, shouldn’t wonder, and drowsy. Just the mood to grant a favour to poor Poggio. So I pushed the door a bit and peeked round the arras to see could I get out without her seeing where I’d been, and then I saw...’ He stopped, and looked into the cup as if wondering where the ale had gone. His mother was quick to fill it. In the pause, Benno could be heard walking the horses round before the hut.
A wail from Poggio’s mother, a convulsive wriggle from Poggio and he was free from her and heading for the door. Sigismondo’s sword across the door had the speed of him. Had Poggio been able to think, he might have preferred a quick death then to a slow one later, but a sword can be an eloquent object in the hand of a man with Sigismondo’s face. He stopped. He was gestured back to the bed, and Sigismondo sat down again, holding out his cup to be refilled. Once full, it was handed to Poggio.
‘Now you will answer my questions. Tell me the truth, and I shall know if it is the truth; and you will be spared the torture.’
It was not a complete surprise that Poggio did not know where to begin when the end was so clearly in sight: a gallows. To confess to stealing the Duchess’s ring was to ask for death, which would be likely to arrive in a quite complicated way. Poggio drank his ale and was silent.
The pig found something in a corner and ate it, loudly.
‘Did you see her Grace, dead?’
It was a brutal question asked brutally. It startled Poggio into a reply.
‘I didn’t know she was dead, at first. Thought she was asleep.’ He was aggrieved. The Duchess had imposed on him, had put him in a difficult position.
‘How did you come to be there?’
‘In her room?’
‘In the Palace at all. The Duke had forbidden you. How did you get in?’
Poggio could not resist a smile. It made his eyes crease and his nose turn up even more. He had a face made for telling jokes.
‘There were plenty of us about. The big folk never know one from another. I know all the ways in and out of the Palace... There’s a little room just off the Duchess’s—’
‘By the bed head, with a jib door.’
Poggio nodded. ‘I waited there to see if I could talk to her Grace, alone. To ask her to speak to the Duke for me. She had a kind heart.’ He crossed himself; the kind heart beat no more. ‘I thought I’d have to wait until the feast ended, but I’d hardly dozed off when I heard her voice coming nearer. That’s a bit of luck, I thought.’ Poggio’s voice had almost a cajoling note, the note of innocence hard done by. ‘Thought it all the more when I heard her sending the maids off. No Lady Cecilia either, which is a lady I’d avoid if I could. So I was coming out of my corner, and ready to slip through the jib door and go down on my knees, not a trick I find easy, when I heard her Grace talking again.’
‘You heard what she said?’
‘It was nothing but a mumble, from either of them. Like you’d use to a lover. Lover it was, too, on account of the noise they were making not that long after. Gave that bed a beating.’ His eyes disappeared in their creases, but either memory, or the gravity of his listener, made him serious. ‘Oh, you can believe I kept quiet — that was a tight corner to be in. I couldn’t hope for any favours from her if she found I’d been watching.’
‘Watching?’ The word was a pounce and Poggio nearly dropped the cup.
‘Listening! I meant listening ! I couldn’t see anything, I tell you. I had the door a little open, yes, but it opens away from the bed, as your honour will have seen.’
Sigismondo bent his head a little in agreement. ‘And then?’
‘He must have left. I couldn’t hear anything after they’d finished. The fireworks were going off. She’ll be lying there resting, I thought, and doesn’t she need to after that bout of Venus. Lying there with a smile on her face, shouldn’t wonder, and drowsy. Just the mood to grant a favour to poor Poggio. So I pushed the door a bit and peeked round the arras to see could I get out without her seeing where I’d been, and then I saw...’ He stopped, and looked into the cup as if wondering where the ale had gone. His mother was quick to fill it. In the pause, Benno could be heard walking the horses round before the hut.
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