When I stepped inside, the house was dark. “Marco?” I called out tentatively.
No answer.
I felt my way down the hall, where I thought I saw some light coming from the dining room. As I drew closer, I saw a faint, flickering candlelight seeping underneath the closed door and into the dark hallway. I opened the door and stepped inside.
I did not know what I expected, if anything, but it was certainly not the sight of Marco, sitting alone at the head of the table, with only a single branch of candles lit, barely illuminating the room from their position in the center of the table. Lying on its side near Marco was an empty bottle of wine; another was in his hand.
“Marco?” I asked, stepping into the room. “What is going on? Why in the name of all the saints did you leave me alone at that banquet?”
He slammed his wine bottle down on the table, hard enough that I was surprised it did not crack. “Ah, Simonetta,” he slurred. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I said sharply. “Now answer my questions, if you please.”
He mumbled something that I could not make out.
“Che?” I asked, moving closer to him. “What did you say?”
“I said,” he mumbled, somewhat louder this time, “why aren’t you with Giuliano?”
The silence that fell over the room nearly deafened me. The roaring in my ears returned, until I realized that it was, in fact, my own heartbeat, pounding such that I thought it would explode from my chest in my anger.
“You knew,” I said. The words came out dull and flat, yet they echoed in the silent room all the same.
“’Course I did,” Marco said. “He asked me.”
“He … what?”
“He asked me,” Marco repeated. “Told me, more like, that he wanted my wife as his mistress.”
I could hardly speak for my horror. “And you … what did you say?”
Marco shrugged. “What could I say? I told him he could have his way.”
Red tinged the edges of my vision, nearly blinding me. Had I a knife or a dagger in my hand at that moment, I think I would have killed him, would have plunged it into his chest. “You told him he could have his way with me?” I screeched. I knew that I had probably just woken the servants, perhaps even Marco’s parents, but I had never cared less about such a thing.
Let Marco’s parents come to see what all the noise was about. Let them see the whoremonger their son had become.
“What could I say?” he asked again, louder this time.
“You could have said no!” I cried. “You could have told him to stay away from your wife, and you could have refused to agree to give me away as though I were chattel! As though I were a common prostitute!”
“What could I do, Simonetta?” he moaned, as though he hadn’t heard me. “I didn’t want to agree, but what choice did I have?”
“How dare you,” I said. “How dare you give away the rights to my body, as though they are yours to give! How dare you make this devil’s bargain, this whore’s bargain, and not even consult me as to my wishes, my desires!”
“You are a fool, Simonetta,” he said, rising from the table. “You understand nothing.”
“Then explain it to me,” I shrieked. “Explain to me how you dare—”
“I should not have to explain anything to you. It is politically expedient for me…” in his drunken state, he stumbled a bit over the words, “to have a wife who is the mistress of one of the Medici brothers. And, by extension, it is expedient for you as well.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I thought you were smart, Simonetta, so intelligent. I thought you would have figured this out.”
“No,” I said. “No, I remained blissfully ignorant to the fact that my husband is no better than a common pimp, to whore out his wife for his own gain!”
Marco swiped the empty wine bottle off the table, causing it to fly against the wall and shatter. “How dare you speak to me so,” he growled.
“How dare I?” I demanded. “You have no business complaining of my conduct ever again, after all this! Why, I do not know how I shall ever speak to you again, you unimaginable monster!”
He approached me and took me by the shoulders, shaking me. “Do you not see what this means for us? What this can do?” he asked. “Do you not see?”
I wrenched away from him. “I see none of that,” I said. “All I see is my husband, who once professed to love me, and now only uses me for his own gain!”
For a moment he looked as though he would strike me, but then he stepped back. “And so why are you here?” he asked. He staggered back to the head of the table and took another swig of wine. “Was he done so quickly? Did he simply bend you over a table and take you? Up against a wall, perhaps, because he could not wait?” He laughed again, a cruel, empty sound. “Well, I suppose I could not blame him for not lasting that long, not his first time with you … even he has never been with a woman as beautiful as you before.…”
I stalked to him and slapped him across the face. “I said no!” I shouted. “I refused him! As you should have known I would do, since I am not some common harlot, to be bought and sold as you see fit!”
He swayed on the spot. “You … refused him?”
“Of course I did,” I snapped.
He fell to his knees, his fingers grasping the hem of my gown. “Oh, Simonetta,” he said. “You do love me. You must.”
I snatched my hem away. “I did, once,” I said. “But rest assured that any love I had for you is dead henceforth, after I have learned what you are capable of.” I choked back my tears; I would not cry them here, not in front of him. “I cannot love you ever again, now that I learn how you truly see me.” I turned to leave but stopped, looking at him, pathetically prostrate on the floor. “You are the fool, Marco Vespucci,” I said. “For you have lost your ‘political expedience’ and the love and respect of your wife all in one ill-conceived wager.” I left the room and went upstairs to the bedchamber where, only after locking myself in, did I allow myself to dissolve into tears.
Not long after, I heard the main door slam downstairs. Moving to the window, I saw Marco stagger out of the house and down the street.
No doubt off to visit his whore, I thought. For his wife, whom he treats as a whore, will certainly not have him. I turned away from the window, finding I did not care if he ever came back. I could only hope to be so lucky.