Not Safe After Dark

THE DUKE’S WIFE

I was absolutely speechless. After everything that had happened, there he stood, bold as brass, telling all the world we were going to be married. Married! You would have been speechless, too.

Let me give you a little background. My name is Isabella, and until that moment I had been all set to enter a convent. I fear I have a wayward and impulsive nature that needs to be kept in check, and the convent I had in mind, the votarists of St Clare, was one of strict restraint. Imagine my feelings when, head swimming from the twists and turns of recent events, I heard I was to be married to the duke!

But there’s more, much more.

A short while ago the duke realized that he had become lax in his duties, being of too mild and gentle a nature to enforce the laws of the land to their fullest. Of special concern to him, because it ate away at the very institution of marriage itself, was the law that forbade, on pain of death, a man to live with a woman to whom he was not married.

Fearing that the people would revolt if he were suddenly to change course and start enforcing the law rigorously himself, the duke thought it better to slip away for a while and leave his deputy, Angelo, in charge. Thus, Angelo was invested with all the duke’s powers and charged with cleaning up Vienna.

Mistake. Big mistake.

Where do I come into all this? you might be wondering. Well, it so happens that my brother Claudio had plighted his troth to his fiancée Juliet, and they were sleeping together. The problem was that they had kept their marriage contract a secret in the hope that Juliet’s family would in time come to favour their union and provide a dowry, and this brought them within the scope of the law against fornication.

Now, Angelo could have exercised mercy, realizing that this was a very minor infringement indeed, and that the two were, in all but the outward ceremony itself, legally married, but Angelo is a cold fish and a sadistic, ruthless dictator. He likes to hurt people and make them squirm; it gives him pleasure. Believe me, I know.

Finding himself so suddenly and inexplicably condemned to death, Claudio asked me to intercede with Angelo on his behalf and see if I could secure a pardon. This I did, with disastrous results: Angelo told me he was in love with me, and he would only let Claudio go if I slept with him.

Now, while I do realize that in many people’s eyes to give up one’s virginity for one’s brother’s life might not seem too much to ask, you must bear in mind that I was to join the votarists of St Clare. I was to be married to God. This was my life, my destiny, and all of that – my very soul itself – would be sacrificed if I gave in to Angelo’s base demands.

And don’t think I didn’t care about Claudio. Don’t think for a moment that the thought of complying didn’t cross my mind, but I wasn’t going to give in to that kind of blackmail. I didn’t trust Angelo anyway. For all I knew, he might take my virginity and have Claudio executed as well – which, as it turned out, was exactly what he had in mind.

The whole process was degrading, me pleading passionately for my brother’s life, going down on my knees on the cold stone to beg, Angelo making it clear that only by yielding up my body to his will could I save Claudio. Humiliating.

When I told him my decision, Claudio wasn’t at all understanding. Of everyone, he should have been the one to see how important my virginity was, but no. He even had the effrontery to suggest that I should reconsider and commit this vile sin to save his life. Claudio was afraid of death, and all he could talk about was his fear of dying when I was facing a much greater enemy than death.

I told him he would find his comfort in the bosom of the Lord. He didn’t seem to agree.

Where was the wily duke during all this? You may well ask. As it turns out he was secretly directing events, disguised as a friar, and he was the one who came up with a cunning plan. He may be of a tender and mild disposition, but he has a devious mind and he likes to play games. Nor does he always stop to think who might get hurt by them.

Angelo had once been betrothed to a woman called Mariana, but her dowry went down on the same ship as her brother Frederick, and Angelo left her in tears, pretending he had discovered some stain on her honour when it was, in fact, the loss of the dowry that turned him against her. If you needed any more evidence of his worthlessness, that’s the kind of person he is.

Now, if I were to go back to Angelo and pretend to agree to his demands, the friar suggested, we could arrange things so that Mariana went to his chamber in my stead, breaking no laws and saving both my virginity and Claudio’s life.

It seemed a very good plan, and it worked, though the friar did have to do a little juggling with severed heads later on to convince Angelo that Claudio had indeed been beheaded. Then, for reasons of his own, the friar let me go on believing that Claudio had been executed – I did say he likes to play games, didn’t I? – until the final scenes had been played out.

He had Mariana beg for Angelo’s life, and the poor woman importuned me to beg with her! Thus, I found myself on my knees for a second time, this time pleading for the life of a man I hated, the man who, I thought, had killed my brother even though, he thought, he had enjoyed the treasures of my body.

So is it any wonder I was speechless when in walked Claudio, as alive as you or I, and the duke announced that I was to be his duchess?

I could have said no, I suppose, but at the time I was too stunned to say anything, and the next thing I knew we were married.

Though it took me many months, I got over the shock of it all and adapted myself as best I could to my new life. I hadn’t actually taken my vows, so there was no legal problem with the marriage. The duke took over Vienna again and enforced the law himself, tempered with mercy and charity, and things were back on an even keel. I’m not saying that fornication ceased. That could never happen here. We Viennese are an odd lot, our lives full of secret vices and lies, and anyone with an interest in the human mind and perverse behaviour would have a field day studying us.

Being the duke’s wife had many advantages, I soon found, though I did have some trouble adjusting to his husbandly demands. He wasn’t a young man, but he was certainly vigorous, though he needed certain props to help him perform those functions he liked so much. In particular, he liked to dress as a friar and intone Latin vespers when he took me from behind, as was his wont. That, I could deal with, but I drew the line when he asked me to dress as a nun. That would have been far too much of a travesty for me to take, given everything that had happened.

So time passed, and on the whole I quite enjoyed the life of idleness and luxury. I loved my horses, enjoyed the theatre and the frequent grand balls, and I came to rely on the kind attentions of my maids and the delicious concoctions of my cooks. As I say, the sacrifices were bearable. Once in a while, I had a wistful thought for the life I might have led, but I must confess that when I hosted a magnificent banquet or walked the grounds and gardens of our wonderful palace, the thought of a bare, cold, tiny cloister lost much of its appeal. Mind you, I still attended church regularly and prayed every night, and we gave generously to the votarists of St Clare.

You might be interested in knowing what happened to the others. Claudio and Juliet were married, after which they moved to the country. By all accounts they are happy enough, though we don’t see them very often. Angelo and Mariana were also married – it was her wish, the duke’s dictate, and in accord with the law – but their story didn’t end happily at all. Well, how could it with an evil, sadistic pervert like Angelo for a husband? Mariana is very sweet, but she is such a naif when it comes to men. Even back when I was headed for the convent I had more idea than she did.

So I wasn’t at all surprised when she came to me in tears about six months after her marriage.

‘Dry your eyes, dear,’ I said to her, ‘and let’s walk in the garden.’ It was a beautiful spring day, with a warm gentle breeze wafting the scents of flowers through the mild air.

‘I can’t go on,’ she said.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Angelo.’

‘What about him?’

‘He doesn’t love me any more.’

He never did love her, I could have said, but I held my tongue. I doubted that was what she wanted to hear at the moment. ‘What makes you think that?’ I asked.

She looked around, then leaned in towards me and lowered her voice. ‘He has other women.’

I could have laughed out loud. Just about every husband in Vienna has other women. I suspect even my own duke has one from time to time, but if it spares me the friar’s costume and the Latin vespers for a night, who am I to complain? But Mariana, I could see, was really upset. ‘It’s just men, Mariana,’ I told her. ‘They’re like that. They can’t help themselves. It’s their nature. Every time they see an attractive woman they just have to conquer her.’

‘But am I not attractive?’

‘That’s neither here nor there. You’re his wife. That’s all that counts.’

‘Yes, I am his wife, so why does he have to sleep with other women? I’ll sleep with him any time he wants. I’ll do anything he wants me to, even if it hurts me, even that disgusting thing with the-’

‘Mariana! I told you, it’s just their nature. You’ll have to learn to live with it or your life will be a very unhappy one.’

‘But I am unhappy already. I can’t live with it. I want to die.’

I took her arm. ‘Don’t be so histrionic, Mariana,’ I said. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

She broke away. ‘I won’t! Never! I want to die. I’m going to kill myself.’

I sighed. ‘Over a man? There must be better reasons. Look, who is this woman he’s been seeing?’

Mariana looked at me. Her eyes were so full of pain that my heart cried for her, even though I thought she was being foolish. ‘It’s not just one woman.’

‘How many?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Two, three?’

‘I told you. I don’t know.’

‘You must have some idea. Is it three, four, or five?’

‘About three. I think that’s about right.’

‘So he’s sleeping with three other women?’

‘Three a week. Yes.’

‘What?’

‘He has them sent to him. There’s a man called Pandarus, a Greek I think, a despicable human being, and Angelo pays him to procure young women. Usually young virgins from the provinces who are new in town and haven’t settled into employment. They’re so young. They don’t… I mean they don’t all know what to expect.’

‘He forces them?’

Mariana nodded. ‘I’ve heard cries. Screams, sometimes, and he swears they will die terribly if they ever speak of what happened.’

Mariana’s story was starting to interest me. I had heard of this Pandarus, though I had never met him, and I knew that he affected a respectable enough surface and was able to move among varying levels of society. Procuring wasn’t new to Vienna, even among the higher echelons – nothing to do with sex is new to Vienna – but this Pandarus intrigued me all the same. ‘How do you know all this?’ I asked.

‘A dear friend told me. She had a conversation with one… with one of the girls.’

‘And you’re certain it’s true?’

Mariana nodded. ‘One night I lay in wait, hiding in the bushes, and watched. We have always had separate quarters, and Angelo maintains the same chamber he used… do you remember, that night when I went to him in your stead?’

I nodded. It wasn’t a memory I cared to dwell on. Not one of my finest moments.

‘They come in the darkest of night, and he burns no candles. Everything is just as it was that night.’

‘I see,’ I said. I had hated Angelo long and deeply enough for what he had inflicted on me that, even as we spoke, the beginnings of a plan began to form itself effortlessly in my mind.

‘What can I do, dear Isabel? Pray, tell me, what can I do?’

I took her hand. ‘Do nothing,’ I said. ‘At least not for the moment. I know it pains you, but bear with it. I’m certain there’s a solution and I promise that your suffering will come to an end ere long.’

Her eyes widened and lit up at that little sliver of hope. ‘Really? You promise? Oh, Isabel, is it possible I can be happy again?’

‘We’ll see,’ I said, busy thinking. ‘We’ll see.’

I was finally satisfied enough with my changed appearance and the peasant clothes I had painstakingly made to venture out into the city streets in the guise of a country girl seeking employment. Through further, cautious questioning of Mariana, I had already determined that Pandarus tended to prey on his victims in the busy public square near the coach station, often approaching them the very moment they arrived in the city. He had, I imagined, a skilled eye and knew exactly who was vulnerable to his approach and who best to leave alone. I affected to look lost and weak, and on my second visit a man came up to me. His clothes and his bearing signified a certain level of wealth and influence in society, and his general manner was that of a gentleman.

‘Are you new here?’ he asked.

‘Me?’ I responded shyly, keeping my head down. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Where are you from?’

I named a distant village I had once heard one of my husband’s ministers mention.

‘And what, may I ask, brings you to Vienna?’

‘I seek employment, sir.’

‘You do, do you? And what skills do you possess?’

‘I can cook, sir, and wash, and mend clothes.’

‘Valuable skills, indeed. Come, walk with me.’

I couldn’t just go with him, not that easily. I had to play the shy country girl. ‘I cannot, sir.’

‘Cannot? Why not?’

‘I don’t know, sir. It just seems so… forward. I don’t know you.’

‘Forward? Walking alongside a perfect gentleman in a public place?’ He smiled. He really did have a warm smile, the kind that leads you to trust a person. ‘Come, come, don’t be silly.’

So I walked beside him. He offered his arm, but I didn’t take it. That didn’t seem to upset him too much. ‘You know, I think I might be able to help you,’ he said, stroking his moustache.

‘Help me, sir? You mean you require my services?’

He laughed. ‘Me? Oh, no. Not me. A friend of mine. And I will speak for you.’

‘But you don’t know me, sir. How can you speak for me? You don’t even know my name.’

He stopped walking and put his fingers under my chin, lifting my face. He was taller than I, so I had to look up, though I tried to keep my eyes down under my fluttering lashes. I felt myself blush. ‘I am an excellent judge of character,’ he said. ‘I believe you to be an honest country maiden, and I believe you are exactly what he has in mind.’ He let me go and carried on walking. This time I picked up my pace to keep up with him, showing interest. ‘He does, however, have one peculiarity I must mention,’ he went on.

‘What might that be, sir?’

‘He prefers to conduct his business at night.’

‘That is strange, indeed, sir.’

He shrugged. ‘It is a mere trifle.’

‘If you say so, sir.’ As a country girl, I could, of course, have no idea of the ways of city folk.

‘So, should you be interested – and he is a most kind, considerate and bountiful master – you must go to him through his garden at night and he will acquaint you with his needs. You need have no fears. He is an honourable man, and I shall be close by.’

Again, I had to remind myself that I was playing the role of a simple country girl. ‘If you think so, sir.’

‘Tonight, then?’

I hesitated for just as long as necessary. ‘Tonight,’ I whispered finally.

‘Meet me here,’ he said, then he melted into the crowds.

My plan was simple enough. I intended to gain entry to Angelo’s chamber under cover of darkness and… Well, I hadn’t really thought much past that, except that I planned to confront him and expose him for what he was. If necessary, I would claim that I went to visit my friend Mariana and that he attempted to ravage me, but I doubted it would come to that. One of the many advantages of being the duke’s wife is that subjects tend to fear my husband’s power, and I had no doubt that Angelo would give up his nightly escapades if faced with their possible political consequences. A wife’s railing is easy enough to ignore, but the power of the duke is another matter entirely.

I could not help but feel restless all evening as I waited for the appointed hour. After the usual antics with cassock and vespers, I slipped a sleeping draught into the duke’s nightcap, and he went out like a snuffed candle. When the servants were all in bed, I donned my disguise and slipped out of the house.

The dark streets frightened me, as I had not gone out alone at night before, and I feared lest some drunken peasant or soldier should molest me. In case of just such an incident, I carried a dagger concealed about my person, a present to the duke from a visiting diplomat. But either the denizens of the night are better behaved than I had imagined, or I was blessed by fortune, for I made my way to the square without any hindrance whatsoever. When I got there, I was surprised at how many people were still out and about at such a late hour, lounging by the fountain, talking and laughing by the light of braziers and flaming torches. I had no idea that such a world of shadows existed, and I found that the discovery oddly excited me.

Pandarus appeared at my side as if by magic, wrapped in dark robes, his head hooded, as was mine.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘Then come with me.’

I followed him through the narrow alleys and across the broad cobbled courtyards to Angelo’s quarters, where we paused at a gate in the high wall surrounding the garden.

‘This gate is unlocked,’ said Pandarus. ‘Cross the garden directly to the chamber before you, where you will find the door also unlocked. Enter, and all will be explained.’

I managed to summon up one last show of nerves. ‘I’m not certain, sir. I mean… I do not…’

‘There’s nothing to fear,’ he said softly.

‘Will you accompany me, sir?’

‘I cannot. My friend prefers to conduct his business in private.’

He stood there while I gathered together all my strength, took a deep breath and opened the gate. There were no lights showing beyond the garden, so I had to walk carefully to make sure I didn’t trip and fall. Finally, I reached the door of Angelo’s chamber, and it opened when I pushed it gently, hinges creaking a little. By this time I could make out the varying degrees of shadows, so I was aware of the large canopied bed and of the silhouette standing before me: Angelo.

‘Come in, my little pretty one,’ he said. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Has my friend Pandarus told you what you must do?’

I curtsied. ‘Yes, sir. He told me you might have a position for me, but that you only conduct interviews at night.’

Angelo laughed. ‘He’s a fine dissembler, my Pandarus. But in that, he is not all wrong. I do, indeed, have a position for you.’

With this he moved towards me, and I felt his lizardlike hand caress my cheek. I should have drawn back, I know, and at that moment told him who I was and why I was there, but something in me, some innate curiosity compelled me to continue my deception.

Angelo led me slowly to the bed and bade me sit, then he sat beside me and began his caresses again, this time venturing into more private territory than before. I took hold of his hand and moved it away, but he was persistent, growing rougher. Before I knew it, he had me on my back on the bed and his hand was groping under my skirts, rough fingers probing me. I struggled and tried to tell him who I was, but he put his other hand over my mouth to silence me.

All the time he manhandled me thus, he was calling out my name. ‘Isabella… Oh, my beautiful Isabella! Do it for me, Isabella. Please do it for me!’ At first this confused me, for I was certain he hadn’t recognized me. Then I realized with a shock that he didn’t know who I was, but that this must be what he said to all his night-time visitors. He called them all Isabella.

And then I understood.

The whole thing, the re-creation of the exact same conditions as the night I was to visit him in exchange for Claudio’s life – the hour, the insistence on absolute darkness. Though Mariana had gone to him in my stead, Angelo either refused to believe this, or thought that by duplicating the trappings he could enjoy the treasures of my body time after time in the darkness of his vile imagination.

As we struggled there on the bed, disgust and outrage overcame any simple desire I harboured for justice, and I knew then what I had been planning to do all along. Angelo’s behaviour just made it all that much easier.

I slipped out my dagger and plunged it into his back with as much force as I could muster. He stiffened, as if stung by a wasp, and reared back, hand behind him trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Then I plunged the dagger into his chest and said, ‘This for Mariana!’

He croaked my name: ‘Isabella… my Isabella…’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ I said, ‘but I’m not yours.’ And I plunged the dagger in again. ‘This is for me!’ I said, and he rolled to the floor, pleading for his life. I knelt over him and plunged the dagger in one more time, into his black heart. ‘And this is for not being able to tell us apart in the dark!’

After that he lay still. I didn’t move for several minutes, but knelt there over Angelo’s body catching my breath until I was sure that no one had heard. The house remained silent.

Knowing that Pandarus was probably still lurking by the garden gate, I left by the front door and hurried home through the dark streets. Nobody accosted me; I saw not a soul. When I got home, in the light of a candle in my chamber, I saw that my clothing was bloodstained. No matter. I would burn it. As soon as that was done and I was washed clean of Angelo’s blood, all would be well. Mariana might shed a tear or two for her miserable, faithless husband, but she would get over him in time and he would never hurt her or anyone else again.

And as for me, as I believe I have already told you, there are many advantages to be gained from being the duke’s wife, not the least of which is the unlikelihood of being suspected of murder.