Chapter Sixty-seven

 

 

The Marriage

 

 

Balducci was so captivated by Mala’s allure that he immediately began to shower her with gifts, compliments, and kindness… to which she gave only slight acknowledgment.

“Be more appreciative,” Duxia would suggest, having decided that Balducci’s happiness was now the foundation upon which their future rested. “He adores you unashamedly as did poor Fernando, can’t you see that?”

Mala found it difficult to be demonstrative. The vivacity she had possessed since birth had withered that stormy night she had led her Romani troupe out of Marseilles, then completely dissipated with the nightmare of the Alps crossing. Fortunately, for Balducci’s sake, her temper had also slackened, so she unwittingly slipped into a more suitable frame of mind in terms of appearances befitting a nobleman’s wife. She developed a calm, dignified demeanor that seemed to erase all trace of her common roots. She also took a sudden interest in learning Italian and proved to be an extremely adept learner. Adding Italian to her native Romani tongue, her fluency in French, and her basic knowledge of Moorish Arabic from her childhood days in Spain, made her quarto-lingual, which was no insignificant feat for anyone of the day, especially a woman. This only fueled her hunger for knowledge and soon led her to enlist a corps of private tutors for the purpose of teaching her to read and write in both Italian and French.

All of this pleased Balducci, of course, as it did Duxia. “A fine thing this,” Duxia would cluck. “You’re establishing an independence that will serve you well one day, Dear.”

***

 

Balducci’s primary immediate concern, as with most men recently wed, was Mala’s performance in the bedchamber. And though it could not be said that Mala actually loved her husband, Balducci would have never guessed such a thing based on what he perceived as their many nights of unadulterated passion during their first weeks of marriage. He felt the pleasure to be mutual, of course, and further felt that his romantic prowess had placed a firm bridle upon his young wife. He was mistaken, since these nights had in fact only served to heighten Mala’s control over him. And though she did everything he could possibly desire in the privacy of their bedchamber, it was also there that she managed to let him know that she possessed a firm resolve of her own and could quickly flush into a torrent of retaliation if ever humiliated or mistreated.

“I must as your wife confess to you that I am a wanted woman in Normandy, Vincento,” she told him on their fifth night together. “There is still a bounty on my head there for killing the son of a certain Duke LeBrun.”

“What!” said Balducci, startled and intrigued in equal measure by this sudden revelation.

“Yes, he tried to rape my mother and when she resisted he cut her face to ribbons. I came upon them as this happened, quickly withdrew my dagger and plunged it into his heart.”

“You used to carry a dagger?” said Balducci, appearing amused.

“Vin-cen-to,” she said without changing expression, emphasizing the syllables of his name like she had done before when dominating Fernando, “I still do.” Then she slipped her hand beneath the pillow and withdrew a dagger. “I keep this with me at all times in case I am ever threatened with harm by a man, any man. Remember that, Vincento. I shall require respect from you at all times.”

He looked at her, dumbfounded. When surprise finally fell aside, he raised up to voice objection to her concealing a dagger within their bed. As he surveyed her dark, stern eyes, they told him it would be useless. So he said nothing.

 

***

 

Despite his complete adoration of Mala, there was one thing about her that did displease Balducci, and that was Duxia. It seemed that other than in the privacy of their bedchamber, the old woman was omnipresent. Of further irritation to him was Duxia’s incessant habit of whispering into Mala’s ear. Whenever this occurred, Mala would listen intently to whatever the old woman was saying, then would invariably nod yes… which indicated to Balducci that Duxia was constantly giving Mala counsel and Mala was accepting it. This was not so much an issue of jealousy for Balducci as it was an issue of concern. He did not like the idea that his wife so heavily depended on and seemed to heed the words of this mysterious old wretch. Furthermore, he often felt that Duxia was making derogatory comments to Mala about him, which was intolerable.

He could not have been more wrong. Duxia’s whispering was actually her effort to mollify Mala by tirelessly reminding her of the lean days. In reality then, it was Duxia who served as much of the glue holding this marriage together; not because Duxia cared the least bit for Balducci, but out of concern for Mala who had by now become the only light in what she saw as her own final years.

Balducci voiced his displeasure about Duxia to Mala on several occasions, but his objections were met with immediate displeasure of her own.

“Vincento,” she replied with a frigidity that stopped Balducci mid-sentence, “If you cannot tolerate Duxia, then she and I will pack our belongings and leave Italy together. Otherwise, there’s no point in discussing the matter.” Then she would turn on her heels and walk off.

This response was so swift and so inflexible that it confused Balducci, leaving him feeling dissected, much as when the Countess Mathilda would cut him off at the knees. Again, there was such fierce resolve in Mala’s expression whenever he broached the subject of Duxia that he realized there would be no bartering over the presence of the old woman in the household, so he decided to leave well enough alone.

 

***

 

Thus began the marriage of Mala to Vincento Balducci. And as it could not be said that Mala loved her new husband, nor was she disinclined toward him since he treated her well and provided things she had never imagined within reach. Her feeling toward him then was not unlike her feeling toward the deceased Fernando other than the fact that she shared her bed with Balducci. Even this was not entirely unpalatable to Mala. There were times when wrapped within her new husband’s lustful embrace that images of Tristan would arise from nowhere. When this occurred she would at first experience sudden pangs of heartbreak and reminiscence, but then the shadowy memory of the Alps and her lost infant would overcome her and Tristan’s face would melt from her thoughts.

In truth then, Mala who was once anchored as the vibrant leader of her own Romani entertainment troupe had now become a wandering soul. She was neither happy nor unhappy, and her previous self had somehow evolved into a new persona. Of course, she did not miss the hunger or the uncertainty of the poor days, but she also did not especially indulge in or appreciate the sudden comforts that wealth now afforded her. And independent as she had once been, she allowed herself to be directed more by Duxia than by her own drive because, in truth, she had little drive left within herself.

This lack of emotion in Mala concerned Duxia. She had hoped that Balducci and his wealth would bring happiness to Mala. It soon became evident to Duxia that the probability of such a simple outcome occurring was slight indeed. Consequently, she then decided the next best thing would be for Mala to at least preserve Balducci’s pride in public and keep him satisfied in private.

“Oh, be wise,” Duxia would whisper in her ear daily, along with a dozen other bits of advice geared solely toward sustaining Balducci’s happiness. “Bow to him in public, and own him in private, my Sweet, with your eyes, your breasts, and your thighs.”

 

***

 

As time ensued, the greatest ally of this marriage proved to be the fact that Balducci, as commander of an army serving beneath the banner of Countess Mathilda, was gone much of the time. And though Balducci obsessed over his beautiful bride during these absences, Mala was quite content having the run of his estates without him. In the end then, it could be said that Balducci considered himself happily married while Mala considered herself married. Their marriage, then, was not dissimilar to many aristocratic marriages of the day where one partner was engaged in the relationship while the other remained ambivalent.