Free Futile Flame by Sam Stone Page B

the carriage and watched with streaming eyes as it drove away. A terrible fear clutched at my heart; a premonition that this was the last time I would ever see my children. My handmaid, Lena, rushed forward to help me back into the house as the cramps doubled me up.
    Halfway to the door a thumping pain shot through my groin, bringing me to my knees. My waters broke, flooding liquid down over my legs. My skirt, sodden, tangled around my ankles and feet and I found it impossible to stand. Lena called for help and two footmen rushed forward to lift me. They carried me, crying and screaming, inside and to my room.
     
    Isabella Maria D’Este was born, yelling into the world on the fourteenth of June. In the absence of my other children I looked at this perfect, beautiful child, with her fluff of black hair, knowing she was my last. Like my first, she was born of incest. I loved her. I sent away the wet nurse, fed her from my own breast; unlike any child I had previously had.
    ‘Senora,’ the nurse said. ‘It’s just not done. It’s not dignified for a lady in your position.’
    ‘I’ve often wondered how peasant children can be so robust,’ I said to the nurse. ‘Surely a mother’s milk is the best for her child?’
    The nurse didn’t know how to reply. She turned away as I uncovered my breast and placed it against Isabella’s small mouth. She floundered for a while opening and closing her lips with an almost audible smacking sound. Soon she was suckling. The sensation was both strange and soothing for me. The pain I’d experienced in ridding myself of milk after previous births was immediately relieved as my child fed. This is natural, I thought. This is how it should be. So, I had learnt something, finally: The value of my children. I had loved the others but not like this, not with this same intensity. Isabella must survive, must grow strong. Must have a better life than I had. With these revelations came the realisation that I didn’t want her life ruled by the evil legacy of my family. I didn’t want her at the mercy of my brother.
    ‘Nurse,’ I called and the woman came to me. ‘Help me.’
    ‘Of course, Duchess. What do you need?’
    ‘Take Isabella and leave.’
    ‘Duchess?’
    ‘Take her to the others. My husband will care for her now.’
    ‘I don’t understand.’ The nurse lifted the baby from my breast Isabella howled in protest. ‘Besides, your husband’s location is a secret.’
    ‘There is one here who knows, so he may convey news.’ I gave the nurse a huge purse. ‘Go to see Abenito, the groom. He’ll take you to my husband. Hurry. Caesare will be back any day now. I’m afraid for her.’
    The nurse nodded. ‘I’m afraid for you when he learns the children have gone. Especially this one.’
    ‘He won’t kill me.’
    When Caesare returned ten days after her birth, Isabella was safely removed and I was ready to defend her life with all the strength I had left in me. Even if I died in the process.
     
     
    Chapter 13 – Lucrezia’s Story
     
Rebirth
     
     
    Smoke from the candles sent trails up into the air, giving substance to the almost tangible force of power as the circle closed. I lay in the centre. I learnt later that the circle was supposed to provide protection. I never knew what Caesare was protecting himself from.
    ‘It’s a game,’ he said.
    I always played his games, even though they often repulsed me but this one was different. He’d carved a symbol into the floor, a five pointed star. It was cut deep into the wood panels, grooved at least an inch wide. Caesare had spent a whole day alone with a set of carpenter’s chisels to achieve this, time that I was relieved he was not with me. At each point of the pattern a metal ring was embedded into the floor.
    ‘A pentagram,’ he told me as though I should know.
    The word and the shape meant nothing to me. He spread my naked body within it, tying my hands and ankles to the rings. The thin rope bit into my wrists