Page 5 of What Dreams May Come
“Ihadto...go.” Katherina glared meaningfully at me.
“Because you’d imbibed too much watered wine,” I guessed, “and you couldn’t piss in the streets, like all the other boys, without betraying yourself.”
Katherina touched the tip of her nose in acknowledgment. “We entered the outer chamber. Musicians played. A minstrel softly sang love songs. Women wandered about in gowns of gaudy colors and smiled and spoke sweetly to us. Rich materials draped the windows, and flowers and fruit perfumed the air.”
“First clues,” I muttered.
“I know!” Katherina slapped her own forehead. “I’m not the brightest candlein the sconce.”
Isabella took up the story. “A tall woman met us, welcomed us, said her name was Madame Culatello, asked what she could do for us. Katherina jiggledher codpiece.”
Much to my mixed horror and amusement, Katherina demonstrated.
“We went into the room where Madame directed us. The color of the walls seemed to stroke the senses. Lounges covered in pillows of exotic colors tempted us to rest. We used the chamber pots, then we gave in. I chosethe lounge with the pillows of silver-and-blue cloth and reclined upon it, and I saw...I saw...” She squirmed and grimaced and ran out of words.
“I chose the lounge of crimson red, so I saw first.” Katherina did not squirm, but she did grimace.
Gentle reader, I knew what she saw, for I’d seen it myself. Yet I would have to fix whatever the problem was, and I know you’ll forgive me for dragging every guilty, uncomfortable admission from them. “Tell me, Katherina, whatyou saw first.”
“There were paintings on the ceiling.”
“What comprised the paintings?” As ifI didn’t know.
“Naked people.”
“Like cherubs? Sweet baby angels with wings?” I managed to ask without a trace of audible sarcasm and surprised a choke of laughterfrom Isabella.
“No. Definitely not cherubs.” Katherina narrowed her eyes at me as if she saw through my solemn mien. Yet she needed me, so what could she do but admit, “Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Beasts! With men’s bodies and bull’s heads. All of them...doing things like we hear Papà and Mamma doing, openly, in all positions, sometimes three people!Smiling and...”
“I wish I could unsee all of it!” Isabellablurted. “Euw!”
My amusement soured. Yes, at twelve and thirteen years old, they were of an age to be married, but to me, looking at them from the vast age of twenty, they were too young. “You had entered Verona’s foremost bordello,” I said sympathetically. “It was bound tobe unsettling.”
“I simply never thought...right there on the square! A brothel! And it wasn’t squalid, it was...inviting.” Katherina spread her arms expressively.
“Rosie, are men’s parts that huge?” Isabella wanted reassurance. “Or is that simply the size of brush a man picks up to illustrate hispizzle?”
“Maybe. Probably it’s the painter’s imagination. But from what I’ve heard, they come in all sizes.” I lifted my hands and let them drop. “I frankly don’t know, dear. I really am a virgin.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s true. At the age of twenty, in a town and in an era where women married as soon as they started their menses, I was still a virgin. If I’d been a nun, no one would think anything about it. But I was a single woman,I repeat by my own design,and the whole of Verona pitied me. Normally, except for a little irritation, I took my role as a withered old spinster with some grace.
Isabella hugged me in sympathy. “That’s right. I forgot. I’m sorry Ireminded you.”
Not so much grace now. With the best of intentions, this kid felt apologetic for reminding me about my pure state, like virginity was an embarrassingsocial disease.
This just wasn’t my night.
Isabella brightened. “But soon that will change!”
“Yes.” In a way she’d never imagined. “Back toyourproblem.”
“Isabella and I leaped up to flee. We knew we had to get out of there.” Katherina talked faster and faster, as if the impulse to run urged her words to a gallop. “We looked for a way out, but there were no windows in that chamber. We had to go back into the...parlor. We thought we could sneak out, but Madame Culatello was watching for us. She called usyoung men. She offered us services. We said we had no money. She said the first time wason the house.”
I did not guffaw, but it was close. I knew Madame Culatello; she was savvy in all things involving bodies. I likewise knew she’d immediately spotted what separated these girls from youths, and I could only imagine how much she enjoyed tormenting them with such offers.
“The outer door opened!” Isabella joined in the tale. “A gentleman strolled in. He was tall and wore the scarlet mask of a satyr. So creepy! Kate said, ‘Flee!’ and dashed toward the opening. She shoved the gentleman out of the way. Ifollowed and—”
