Chapter Sixty-six

 

 

Mala

 

 

The effect of beauty on even the most stone-hearted of men is similar to that of the sea wearing down the hard edged cliffs of a rocky shore. The effect of absolute, stunning beauty magnifies this effect tenfold, and the effect is more like that of a raging storm erupting against the face of this rock, carving out deep chasms and rapidly disassembling its foundation. And such was the effect that Mala was having on Vincento Balducci.

Balducci had always thought himself entitled, due to his doting mother who fussed and circled about him during his childhood as would some nervous manor maid, terrified that the master might show the least sign of displeasure. As a result of this rearing Balducci learned to treat women with disdain and had developed into a seasoned misogynist by early adolescence. Women, of course, immediately sensed this, and generally demonstrated subservience to him as a means of avoiding his sneering attention.

It was with difficulty then that Balducci interacted with la Gran Contessa Mathilda who was vastly more wealthy and powerful than himself. Mathilda had little patience for either Balducci’s behavior or his inflated sense of self, and either dismissed him as one would dismiss a spoiled child or struck back with the bluntness of a well-placed bludgeon to the head. This confused him at times, but as with all bullies, he retreated in the face of such superior arms. Unbeknownst to Balducci at the time he fell beneath Mala’s spell, like Mathilda, Mala was also the type of woman who could strike back. And with the wise and bitter Duxia de Falaise at her side for counsel, the two would form a female juggernaut the likes of which Balducci had never encountered beneath his own roof.

The first clue that Balducci was helpless in the thrall of Mala’s beauty was the rapidity with which he flung himself at her, proposing marriage only six weeks after meeting her at the Alpine pass despite her humble origins and lack of dowry. Next was the fact that he had already promised himself in marriage a year earlier to one Lady Marianna Bertucci, daughter of Duke Bernard Bertucci, a powerful figure of Genoa. Breaking off this engagement insulted the entire Bertucci clan, which was widespread in both north and central Italy, and caused the raising of many eyebrows within aristocratic circles. “God forbid,” the whispers went, “Balducci favors this whorish dancing girl over the Bertucci family and fortune!” Of course, they knew little about Mala other than she had been an entertainer, was a commoner, and that she was foreign and of dark complexion. Many quickly assumed that she must be Saracen, therefore immediately shunned her. And the final clue to Balducci’s weakness for Mala was the fact that, despite her gender, he treated her with unprecedented courtesy and deference. She was so alluring that he did not wish her to be displeased with him.

The wedding of Lord Vincento Balducci to Mala the Romani, which took place shortly after his arrival back to his reclaimed territories, turned out to be a rather awkward affair. Balducci sent out invitations to all the grand aristocrats, political figures, and high clerics of the Gregorian camp who resided in central and northern Italy. And to showcase his lovely bride and celebrate his marriage, he spared no expense in preparing an ostentatious ceremony. This was followed by a fabulous feast catered by servants flittering about serving wine, fruit, and delicate sweets piled high upon exquisitely engraved copper and silver platters. Additional servants moved about offering roasted pheasant, heron, crane, and goose while the groom’s table had four roasted hogs exquisitely splayed, carved, and dressed. Despite the wondrous setting that Balducci had so fussily orchestrated and his high level of anticipation, attendance was sparse. The thin crowd consisted primarily of Balducci’s immediate family, his vassals, and a smattering of neighboring nobles, minus many wives who had refused to attend because of Balducci’s flagrant insult to the family of the rejected Marianna Bertucci of Genoa. Of course, these women did not hold Marianna herself in especially high regard, thinking her homely and dull. The fact that Balducci married a commoner was to them, insufferable. Countess Mathilda did not attend the wedding, nor did General Padule, Guillaume, the Danes, Odo de Lagery, any of the high clergy, nor politicians of note, nor anyone even distantly related to the Bertucci clan.

It is a quirk of human nature that the insensitive are themselves doubly wounded by slight, but as Balducci gazed about the bare wedding hall, he was wounded by this shunning of so many he had thought to be friends and close acquaintances. This disappointment soon gave rise to a simmering resentment as he pulled his manor master to the side halfway through the reception.

“Compile a list of every damned person who chose not to make an appearance on this grand occasion of my wedding,” he barked bitterly.

Compounding this already stilted atmosphere was the fact that Balducci’s own mother and sisters made it evident at every turn that they did not approve of the Romani bride, nor did they approve of her strange and elderly cohort who, despite the occasion, was wearing her habitual black garb accompanied by a black shawl draped over her head and shoulders. “So gauche,” Balducci’s sisters, Celia and Cosima, complained, “the old nag could have at least put on some jewelry and decent clothing!”

“And the very looks of that old bitch tells me that Vincento’s new wife comes from poor peasant stock,” cried Lady Alda, Balducci’s mother, fanning herself with her hand. “The old mule is the girl’s aunt, for God’s sake, which means that Vincento’s bride herself will resemble the old hag in a few years! Such coarse features, these peasants.”

Balducci overheard this and became furious. “Show some goddamn consideration!” he cried, flinging his goblet of wine at the three. “If not for my wife and her aunt, then at least for me, damn you!”

A hush fell upon the wedding hall as Balducci’s outburst elevated, causing his mother and sisters to flee the room in tears. Mala quickly pulled him by the arm and led him away. “Calm down, Vincento, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of your guests,” she said, vowing secretly to blister the catty threesome at a later time.

Duxia had not left Mala’s side at any point during the reception and was trailing her even as she said this to Balducci. “Let it pass, Dear,” she whispered, recognizing that inflamed look that had swept into Mala’s eyes despite her effort to hide her anger. “Smile, Dear, and be gracious despite the arrows flung our direction. Do nothing you’ll regret later!”

Mala looked back at Duxia and gestured with a slight nod. Then she looked at Balducci with her large almond eyes and began to stroke his arms and his shoulders, soothing him. These movements and Mala’s intimate touching quickly made him forget the snubbing of friends and relatives, and he became impatient to be away from the wedding hall. “Let me call this fiasco to an end,” he urged, “and let’s retire to the wedding chamber, Mala. You have held me at bay long enough, and my body burns for you!”

Although he had attempted every ploy imaginable to lure Mala into his bed upon the arrival of his caravan back to his territories, Mala had steadfastly refused him. “Not until I wear your wedding ring, Vincento,” she would reply, rebuffing his advances. This, of course, only served to further stoke Balducci’s fire, as Duxia had predicted.

“Yes, very well,” Mala replied softly, looking over at Duxia who was nodding the slightest bit.

Balducci then declared the feast ended, and with great brouhaha before the other men in attendance, he announced loudly that he and his bride would be retiring to the wedding bed. His face rosy with wine, he then marched her back and forth before these men with great pride, knowing that each and every one of them envied him at that moment more than any man on earth. As for Mala, she played her part well during this promenade as an approving Duxia watched on, and strutted sensuously before her admirers with the svelte, sweeping movements of the lithe dancer she was. For Balducci, seeing his peers ogle his ravishing wife was the banner moment of the night.

Bursting with anticipation, Balducci then swept Mala from the floor into his arms and fairly ran up the stairs to the wedding suite where, upon closing the door, Mala then slowly and skillfully satisfied Balducci’s ardent advances until he was utterly sated. Then, in the morning as they awoke, she repeated her actions of the night before, as Duxia had instructed. From that moment on, also as Duxia had predicted, Balducci abandoned all previous ties to family and friends and belonged solely to Mala.