Infinite Devotion by L.E. Waters Page B

You know you have such difficulties, but you still are so careless.”
    I keep crying in guilt.
    “You must not want this as much as I do, or you would be more careful.”
    He’s right, and when I get pregnant, again I barely leave my bed. Isabella has her third son.
    ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
    It’s the same brown wolf I’ve seen in so many dreams. Its coat shining in the sunlight, with head bowed, sniffing out its next prey. Suddenly, five large dogs surround him with teeth bared. The wolf lunges at the closest dog, and the dogs take him down with great yelping. The dogs disappear, and the bleeding wolf limps feebly over to me and dies at my feet.
    Alfonso comes in to see me like he usually does after a day of testing grenades, but this time he has a somber look on his face.
    “What has a happened?”
    “I hate to bring you more bad news, especially when this pregnancy is faring so well.”
    He sits on the edge of my bed as I hold my breath.
    “Cesare’s dead.”
    I throw my head in my pillow and can hear only parts of what Alfonso’s saying between my sobs.
    “Cesare was fighting for the King of Navarre when he was ambushed, stripped of armor, and left bleeding on the ground.”
    I pull myself up and yell to God, “The more I try to please you, the more you try me!”
    Alfonso tries to console me, even though he hated Cesare so. “It may please you to know that he died triumphant against my brother-in-law’s enemies.”
    He walks out to let me grieve yet again. I decide to pretend fortitude when I’m among the public, although I feel so much of me has died inside, not even being able to share grief with anyone else who loved Cesare.
    A happy day comes to me when I need it most, as Ercole is born healthy, handsome, and full of life. I never saw Alfonso so happy. I relax at finally having done my part.
    After another successful birth of a son a year later, Ferrara is at war. The despicable Pope Julius II sets his sights on attaining Ferrara and lays siege to our city. It is the first time Fia stays away from the palace, and I hope she doesn’t attempt to return amidst all the warfare. I try to flee with my children to Milan, but as I’m getting into my carriage, a mob of villagers comes rushing at me frantically, screaming, “The duchess is leaving us!”
    They get in front of the horses, grab hold of their bridles, and circle around us. A young man pleads, “Our lady, you cannot leave us now!”
    “I must protect the heirs to Ferrara,” I try to explain, but they start shaking the carriage.
    Their leader shouts, “If you leave, then we will all abandon Ferrara!”
    A desperate uproar rings in our ears and grows with fisted encouragement. I bow my head and take Ercole’s and Ippolito’s little hands and walk back into the palace.
    For three years, the wars rage, and we’re held hostage in the palace. I’ve completely given up that Fia will ever return. Alfonso shows amazing fortitude and resistance against the powerful pope. Only his exceptional knowledge of ammunition keeps the pope at bay. One day, as Alfonso is instructing the defense of one of the palace walls, a ricocheting piece of masonry hits his head. They carry him to our bedroom with his head and nose bleeding profusely, and I’m sure he’s dead.
    “Alfonso!” I scream as the doctors are wiping off the blood.
    A doctor begins pressing around on his forehead. “It’s a miracle; it did not damage the bone.”
    I lie with him all night as the explosions ring out outside the palace walls, and he wakes up early that morning.
    “My head aches terribly.” He winces as he holds his swollen head.
    “The doctors need you to rest.”
    “Rest? How can I rest when Julius’s men are storming the castle!”
    He starts trying to take off his bandages, and I call for the doctor outside.
    The doctor runs in, saying, “Duke d’Este you must rest and leave your bandages still. They are keeping you from bleeding.”
    “I have to go