Chapter 14

Another Difficult Conversation

 

 

 

Journal Entry

 

“Since it was too early in the day for the after-lecture crowd to have congregated en masse at their favourite haunt, I had no trouble finding a quiet corner table out of the direct line of sight from the staircase. I knew that I had little skill in witty conversation with women, but the prospect of a serious discussion, to which the lady was not likely to be receptive, was enough to make the palms of my hands perspire profusely. ‘This is for Testagrossa,’ I said to myself, and braced myself for the encounter.

“After what seemed like an interminable wait, Caterina appeared at my table, wooden mug in hand and offering me a pleasant smile. ‘I see you are alone today, Signor Howard. Will Bernardo and his other friends be meeting you here?’ She was not rushed, today, so she allowed herself a few pleasantries, while placing the tankard in front of me. I grasped the beer with both hands, so that I could keep them still while I attempted to engage the waitress in conversation.

“‘No,’ I said, ‘I am having my lunch alone today, but I hope you will not think it impertinent if I ask for a word with you – about Testagrossa – if you are not too busy at this moment.’

“‘Please don’t call him that in front of me! His name is Bernardo, and it pains me when I see the other students make fun of him like that.’

“‘Forgive me,’ I said, ‘I intended no ridicule or disrespect. On the contrary, I must speak to you because I am worried about his state of mind, of late. He is my friend, too, you know,’ I added, hoping to establish a bond with the girl on that basis.

“Caterina’s look softened, as she noted the evident concern in my eyes. ‘I know. Bernardo often speaks about you with genuine affection. You are the only one who doesn’t laugh at him.’

“‘He hasn’t been laughing very much lately, either,’ I replied, steering the conversation back to Testagrossa. ‘He is concerned about someone, someone who means a great deal to him, someone he thinks might be in danger of making a grave mistake.’

“Caterina would not risk sitting down with a customer and being caught at it by Mme. Blanchard, but there was no one else to be served, at the moment, and she stood by the table, bereft of her usual poise and confident composure. ‘Has he told you who this person is?’ she asked, with a look on her face that belied the answer.

“‘No, he didn’t,’ said I, warming to my task. ‘He thinks too highly of this person’s reputation to betray her identity, even to a good friend, but he did tell me about a brooch, one I, myself, saw being worn as a token by a young knight. The brooch was azure, with a white salamander on a field of golden fire.’

“‘Yes,’ she said, looking, for the first time, lost and frightened. ‘That is my brooch, a gift my father received from the old King himself.’

“I lowered my voice trying to sound as non-judgemental as possible. ‘I would consider such a gift to have been a treasure worth keeping, if not for the sake of its intrinsic value, then because it had belonged to your father.’

“‘I know it was a foolish thing, but it was all I could do to make amends for having cruelly sent him away!’

“I furrowed my brow in puzzlement. ‘You sent him away?’

“‘Yes, because Bernardo convinced me that this is what I should do.’ She had lost her reserve and clearly wanted to blurt out everything that troubled and confounded her mind. Nevertheless, she paused and, seeming to turn away, busied herself with wiping the adjacent table with a damp cloth which she took from the apron string around her waist.

“I knew that Caterina had to continue to look busy, to avoid being scolded by the ever watchful Mme. Blanchard. Scrubbing tables with a rag also help her work off some of her nervousness and embarrassment.

“‘We’d better start at the beginning.’ As gently as I could, I pursued my line of questioning in the hope of picking up the missing pieces of the story. ‘How did you make the acquaintance of this knight, in the first place?’

”‘It started about four months ago, on my day off. I took some laundry that my mother had done for the family of the Comtesse de Nimes, who were staying at the Louvre. On my way through the corridors, heading back to the servants’ entrance, I encountered Hugh de Frontenac, who had just come from his father’s apartments.

“‘He was tall and handsome and straight as a Roman statue, with fair hair and the ruddy complexion of a man who spends much time in sport and outdoor pleasures. He bowed gallantly, in the manner of one who was not disposed to treat me like a servant. In a rather pleasant tone, he asked me my business in these apartments, and I told him, with no little embarrassment, that I was delivering laundered and pressed garments to the Comtesse. He tried to put me at my ease and described himself as a modern man who judged others more by their accomplishments than by the length of their pedigree.

“‘We spoke of my father and his paintings at Fontainebleau, about which the old King François had lavished so much praise. He said that he had been to Fontainebleau and seen the magnificent banquet hall which my father worked on for three years. He made me feel what I haven’t felt in I can’t remember how long – I felt pride in having been my father’s daughter.’

“I spoke softly and soothingly, the better to encourage her to continue. ‘And so, you continued to see him?’

“‘Yes.’ Caterina sounded actually apologetic.. ‘We would meet in the gardens of Notre Dame or at Les Celestines, and we would walk and talk.’

“‘…in secret?’ I suggested.

“‘Oh no’ replied Caterina hastily, ‘I told my mother where I was going, and we always met in public places, with his pages and retainers around us.’

“‘You also told Testa…I mean, Bernardo?’

“She nodded and then turned her face toward the table she was scrubbing for the seventh time with the same beer stained dish towel. ‘He was FURIOUS with me!’ She pushed so hard with the dirty cloth, I thought she might make a hole in the oak table. ‘He told me there was only one thing that I could expect from a lusty, high born climber, like Hugh, and I was to pay no attention to any pledges of love and honour that he may have offered me. They are all tricks and perjury!’ She sniffed back a tendency to cry, determined to maintain her composure in front of anyone who might report her behaviour back to Testagrossa.

“I was careful not to take sides. ‘He was convinced that de Frontenac would try to take advantage of you?’

“‘But he didn’t,’ protested the now uncontrollably tearful Caterina. ‘He was gentle, and he always treated me with such kindness, but Bernardo would not hear a word in his defence. He kept on saying that Hugh would not rest until he had had his way with me, and then he would move on to another girl.’

“‘That is his reputation,’ I commented.

“A flash of anger covered Caterina’s face. ‘One’s reputation can be concocted by such mean and spiteful people.’

“‘Yes, and a bad reputation, deserved or undeserved, can shipwreck a person’s whole life!’ I realised, even as I said the words, how pompous and Testagrossa-like I sounded.

“‘I have more than ugly gossip to consider,’ added Caterina, ‘I have my mother’s happiness and security to think of.’

“I turned in my seat to look directly at the weeping and, at the same time, defiant girl. This was a new twist to the story. ‘What does your mother have to do with this?’

“‘Do you think my mother was meant to be washing other people’s clothes? Do you think she can go on taking in laundry forever? If Hugh gets us re-introduced at court, as genteel folk, then my mother can go back to the way we lived at Fontainebleau. She can spend her old age in modest comfort.’

“Despite myself, I must have sounded incredulous. ‘You’re doing this for your mother? Do you love de Frontenac and do you believe that he loves you?’

“‘I can only believe what he tells me, and that he wants to be with me. I don’t know if this is enough to secure our future, but I feel I must try,’ declared Caterina with a look that spoke more of grim determination than it did of fondness. ‘But Bernardo did not go along with my reasoning. He said that in the end, both my mother and I would be irreparably damaged by this young gallant, and that my hopes for a secure future lay with someone of my own class and rank. “Even if he does love you, in the end, he must marry for reasons of family and property, not for reasons of the heart,” he told me.’

“‘So, he convinced you to break it off?’ I pursued.

“‘Yes, he and I spoke here one night, and I agreed to do so. Then he seemed happy and relieved, and he became his old charming self. He called me his little sparrow and talked to me so gently, as he always used to do.’

“‘He called you his “sparrow”?’ I furrowed my brow, as if the story had taken yet another twist. I didn’t say anything for several long moments, then I must have looked as if I had come to some kind of conclusion. I brought the subject back to de Frontenac. ‘So, you kept your word to Bernardo and you broke it off with de Frontenac, but then you gave him your brooch?’

“‘Yes, yes, I had to, don’t you see? My mother was disappointed in me. I could tell, even though she didn’t say anything. I had dashed her chances of ever returning to her former station, and I saw her looking OLD, for the very first time. I passed a note to one of Hugh’s servants, saying that I wanted to see him again. The next day, the servant found me in the market place and delivered his master’s reply. Hugh would see me again, but I must give him the brooch, for him to wear as a favour in the next tournament. He said he required a token of my earnest sincerity, proof that I would treat him seriously and not toy with his affections.’

“My reaction was pensive. ‘Naturally, you didn’t tell Bernardo that you were seeing him again.’

“‘I couldn’t, not after having given him my word that I would end it.’ Caterina was pleading, and the tears and sniffles came flooding back.

“‘That would explain his surprise and anger at the joust,’ I concluded.

“I now understood the problem, but no solution came readily to mind. ‘I think you need to be honest with our friend. You need to talk to Bernardo and tell him what you told me. He’ll get angry, but let him. If I know anything about my friend, I know that he could never hurt someone he loves, and he’ll prove with every angry word how much he truly loves you.’

“Caterina looked frantic now. She was ringing the wet rag in her hand as if she wanted to remove every trace of what was in it. ‘How can he love me, after I have broken my word to him?’

“‘Trust him. He can forgive anything except your turning away from him in fear. You need a friend, and right now, he’s the best one you’ve got.’

“‘Bernardo is lucky to have a friend like you,’ Caterina said. ‘I’m really grateful for your kind words, but I still don’t know what I shall do!’

“‘Be a friend to Bernardo. He needs your friendship, and he needs you to tell him that you understand how he feels. Do you think you can understand that big old fool?’

“Caterina looked as if she, too, had reached a decision. ‘Yes, I think I can. I think I do.’

“She went back to the kitchen, crying, I was sure, not for the first time in recent weeks. I had no idea whether I had helped or hindered the situation today, nor did I know what I could do, at this juncture, to be of some comfort to them. I can only note my misgivings in this journal.

“Sometimes, when we interfere with the best of intentions in the course of events, we only succeed in making them worse. Perhaps it’s best to let these matters take their course.”