There was a small part of Isabella Montecchi that wanted to be angry at her handmaiden, Nerissa, for not giving Giannetto the drugged wine as she had been instructed to. But, in truth, it was a very small part of her.
She stretched languidly on the bed and felt Giannetto wrap his arms around her naked waist and pull her close to him. She turned her head to look at his face, eyes still closed and half asleep. She saw the small twitch of his eyelashes, like butterflies preparing to take flight. She saw the colour of the three light lines in the skin around his eyes, smile lines like a delicate bird’s feet. She saw his thin beard as a forest of hundreds of individual hairs. And she saw the curve of his full lips and it all made her think of the pleasure she had taken from them throughout the night.
She let her gaze drop lower over his naked body, recalling the snug feeling of completion in how it fitted so well against her own body. She admired the shape of his arms and the rise and fall of his chest, and then looked back to his face, surprised to find his eyes now open. Surprised to see how very beautiful he looked, lying there, looking at her.
“And where shall we go today?” he asked.
“Go?” she said. “Why do we not lie here a little longer?” And her hand snaked down his torso, fingertips sliding along his warm skin.
“I think I might take you to far away exotic lands,” he said. “And we shall dance to enchanting music and taste strange sweet fruits and we shall think nothing of our lives and our debts in the Floating City. We shall only think of each other.”
Isabella stretched her body again, this time leaning into his, feeling it respond to her closeness. “But I want to stay in bed,” she said, her fingers searching for him.
“And we shall,” he said. “Have you heard the stories of the Othmen’s enchanted carpets that can fly?”
“A children’s tale,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But every children’s tale is born from some truth.”
“Shall we adjourn to the carpet then?” she asked mischievously.
“Far better,” he said, “if we journey on our enchanted bed. It will carry us over the waves like a galleon of the skies. It shall rise up and float over the clouds, and we shall look down on the foam tops of the ocean like they were small feathers. We shall drift over deserts and rivers and high mountains and we shall find a lush oasis where we shall land our bed under shady trees and rest.”
“And the musicians?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” he said. “They shall come across the deserts, riding on camels. Have you heard of camels?”
“I have seen drawings of them.”
“And they shall also bear servants with sweet meats and wines. The servants will be wrapped fully in cloth with just their eyes showing.”
“But isn’t that the way the Othmen women dress?” Isabella asked.
“No, no,” Giannetto said. “There are many other peoples to the lands south of here than the Othmen. The sand-dwellers dress like this, men and women both.”
“Yes,” said Isabella. “We shall do this then today.” She clapped her hands and called for her handmaiden, Nerissa. It took a moment for her to appear, her head coming around the edge of the door cautiously. “Come!” said Isabella.
The handmaiden came into the room with her eyes cast down.
“Fetch a sheet,” Isabella commanded in a harsh tone. The handmaiden looked a little confused, but did as she was ordered. “Now wrap it around yourself,” Isabella said.
“My lady?”
“Do you want me to do it for her?” Giannetto asked, making as if to rise from the bed. The handmaiden looked panicked for a moment, until Isabella said, “Dress like the desert women do.”
“My lady?” she asked again.
“I had better show her,” Giannetto teased.
Nerissa turned away as he sat up in the bed, and quickly began wrapping the sheet about herself. Isabella pulled Giannetto back to the bed, stifling a laugh. Finally the handmaiden turned and asked, “Like this?”
“You have to cover your face,” said Giannetto, “so that only your eyes show.”
The handmaiden adjusted the sheet and tucked it in tighter in places. Then stood there.
“Splendid,” said Giannetto.
“Yes, splendid,” said Isabella. “Now fetch us exotic sweetmeats and cool drinks.”
“Wine,” said Giannetto. “But no cups. I shall drink it out of the crevices of your body.”
The handmaiden spun around again, certain they could see the blush on her face, even though only her eyes showed.
“Hurry,” said Giannetto. “We have a long journey ahead of us and are famished.”
“No. Don’t hurry,” said Isabella. “Come back in half a candle’s length. We are not at our journey’s end yet. We have many clouds to soar over and many mountains to climb still.” The handmaiden scuttled from the room, almost tripping over the sheet. Isabella and Giannetto burst out laughing and she slid a leg over his. “So,” she said. “Shall we attempt the mountains or the waves first?”
And their day passed as he had promised it would, dozing and eating and drinking and enjoying each other until they fell asleep again, quite sated, and slept like children, bodies twisted in uncomfortable intertwined positions, but smiling and content.
Isabella awoke upon sunup the following day. Her head hurt a little from the wine, her belly was a little swollen from the fine foods and other parts of her hurt a little from equal over-indulgence. She placed a hand under her head and looked at the young man lying there beside her. She considered for a moment the big question in her heart. Was she willing to fulfil the absurd contract and be won by this handsome young man? No, she didn’t think she would. Rather she had won this man, to be her husband.
She smiled and laughed a little. The movement woke him and he opened his eyes and looked around. He licked his lips, clearly feeling a little unwell too, and blinked. Then he looked to her and smiled. “I was dreaming,” he said. “We had travelled far away to an exotic land in the deserts. But it wasn’t a dream at all, was it?”
“No,” she said.
“And look,” he said. “A memento of our trip.” He held up his hand and she saw the ring that she had pressed upon him in the night. In the darkness of night it had been done as play, while they were making vows about all the other enchanted journeys they would take together, but now in the bright light of day she held her breath in anticipation of how he would treat it.
“Did a gypsy woman give it to you promising it would bring you good fortune?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “My true love gave it to me as a bond that we shall be wed.”
She smiled and leaned in and kissed him. “Then promise me you will never take it off again.”
He wrapped his arms about her. “Never,” he said.
She kissed him again and then lifted her head above his. “It was a wonderful journey,” she said. “But now I see we are back to our lives and our debts in the Floating City.” They both smiled, but she watched the smile fall from his face like a bird struck down by an arrow in mid-flight.
“Oh gods!” he said. “The debt!”