Mirror Mirror

by Gregory Maguire

But I have come out of one death, the one whose walls were glass; I have awakened into a second life dearer for being both unpromised and undeserved.

The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say.

Fra Ludovico: The stories of heaven belong in the heads of children. If, as children grow, the stories evaporate?—oh well. They leave behind a residue of hope that changes how children behave. Primavera: That stinks more than your chamber pot.

“How do I know what is nonsense and what isn’t?” “If you’re ever in doubt, throw a pepper up in the air. If it fails to come down, you have gone mad, so don’t trust in anything.”

Solid advice

(The merchant had been a widower and his dead wife wouldn’t know he was buried with another woman until purgatory, when everything was too late to change anyway.)

María Inés de Castedo y Nevada.

You can see the noisy stream, the rushes, the wrens at their work, the hills beyond. But what don’t you see?” “I don’t see why you have to leave again,” she said.

“The wall by the back stairs wants a coat of lime wash,” said one of the maids. Someone had been drawing instructional diagrams for the others and the male figure looked rather too much like a naked Fra Ludovico for anyone’s comfort.

Ew.

No, Bianca, you are forbidden to go look. When the time comes to tell you the glorious nonsense of sex, I’ll do it with the help of a carrot and a soft loaf of bread folded in two.”

Jesus Primavera

“Someone has sketched schemes of sex between whores and morons,” said Primavera. “Only a moron would have sex with a whore,” said Fra Ludovico. “Bianca, I forbid you to examine these diagrams. You would weep with fright and grief.” “I can see her laughing herself sick,” said Primavera. “Or getting ideas. Usually, for the sake of honesty, I have to chop the carrot in half so as not to get a young girl’s hopes up.” A pause. “There’s really nothing to compare to a squid.”

“You don’t know what you pray about,” snorted Primavera, “that’s why you won’t tell us. You pray for a reason to pray, that’s all. And it doesn’t come.”

But our lives are longer than human lives. Just yesterday Primavera Vecchia was slipping off the lap of her grandmother and landing in the basket of onions and pissing on them. They made a better soup for it, those onions. Today Primavera is hairy of chin and tomorrow no one will remember who she was.

She had the smooth forehead of a pale squash,

Flattering.

Don Vicente, let me ask for your arm. I’m faint as a dowager who has taken Madeira at noon.” She looked about as faint as a lightning bolt.

lol

Fra Ludovico was requested first to pray and then to sing, and then to shut up and go away.

To be fair I'd tell him the same

“But Prince Dschem offered news of something older. Something more perfect. So desirable that its very existence had been kept hidden for centuries. A sprig of the Tree of Knowledge, out of the very orchard of Eden from which our kind has sprung.”

“Where is this treasure?” said Vicente. “Prince Dschem told me,” said Cesare. “And then I left. Without him.” “He died a month later, in Naples,” said Lucrezia flatly. “Our detractors in Rome say he was poisoned with a particular slow-acting powder that only we Borgias know how to produce.”

“Our father tried to sell his body back to his brother,” said Lucrezia.

"Tried"?

“And now we come to the reason for our visit,” said Cesare. “I want you to go collect the sacred fruit of Eden and bring it to me.”

“Were you to undertake the task I set out for you,” said Cesare, “I would put a protective restriction upon your property for however long your journey might take, be it months or years.

Sure you would.

“They are waiting for you,” said Cesare. “The Apples are waiting.”

Question: Why does it have to be Vicente? Is this a land grab?

“Even the doves in the barn rafters don’t wake up for morning Mass,” Fra Ludovico muttered. “Why should these assassins bother?”

Grumpy, grumpy.

Fra Ludovico, who found that sharing his cell with the Holy Spirit was a bit too close for comfort sometimes, was surprised to notice that his wariness of the Duke was coupled with curiosity. A rogue with a passion for prayer. See how he furrowed his brow in devotion, how the sweat drew hot lines down his forehead. Fra Ludovico had to look away in order to concentrate on his sacred business.

Boy you thirstin

Even behind that veil, he could see evidence of the hair that Primavera swore was stained blond with the juice of lemons. The scandal. Beautiful, though.

lol Primavera is so catty

May she go in safety, thought Fra Ludovico. May her brother go in safety. May they go soon.

He liked the message of the reading and said those verses again, this time in Italian, to make sure that the Borgias took note of what God was saying to them today.

Too little too late.

“Get her out of here,” roared Cesare, “I’m trying to pray, damn it.”

So pious. Much wow.

Despite the cold, his cock poked inside his garments. Morning Mass always did this to him, and it was a good way to start a day of bloody bullying.

That's disgusting

“Cesare may break his promises,” said Vicente coldly, “but I will hold you to yours, Lucrezia Borgia. You are no goose. You know I mean it.” He had her. She said, “I will keep my word, then. I will see that your household is maintained and your child protected.”

How??? What leverage could he possibly have???

The mason grinned; what teeth he had were brown. “I love that notion. I would relish the raising of my brother, Severino, so that I could explain the better why I murdered him in the first place, and then do it again.”

Why are you not in prison?

Here was a dwarf with his hand on his hip.

What miserable leverage Vicente had over Lucrezia would count for nothing in a contest with her brother.

Again, WHAT LEVERAGE???

In truth, the dwarf was there, lingering. He could catch up to Vicente in a moment. He wasn’t much good as an angel and he didn’t know why he was compelled to accompany the man on his quest.

I don't either.

Fra Ludovico had had a vision in the middle of the night. He had thought it was dyspepsia at first, as he had met with a sausage of suspicious vintage, and his stomach had been shouting at him.

lmao sucks

though the priest tried to cry out, his voice—with the persistent laryngitis that afflicted him in dreams—was feeble.

Same dude

The prelate was feeling his age. The years following the departure of his master hadn’t been easy. First, Lucrezia Borgia had dismissed the overseer that Don Vicente had assigned to watch after things. Dismissed or removed from the district, it was unclear which, but in any case the hapless local governor was gone as gone.

for all his timidity, his fondness for the true daughter of the house prevailed.

Or maybe the threat of Lucrezia Borgia’s inevitable return bullied the farm into behaving itself: that’s what Primavera said.

Makes sense to me

She was about eleven years old now. She begrudged the sacrifice she’d been required to make, but she wasn’t a fool: she could tell that showing contempt to Primavera or Fra Ludovico would be misdirected. She misbehaved mildly, as was fitting for her age.

She couldn’t make herself pass. Not yet. Sometime when the bridge wouldn’t thump at her, when the water wouldn’t wink at her: then she would cross it. But today—and in several other tries that summer—she failed, and kept failing. Was it her promise to her father that waited under the bridge, with its hairy hand?

She made a lazy inspection of the farm—the accounts, the state of the orchards, the gooseboy and his geese, the buildings and outbuildings, and in the evening she came to a conclusion. She decided that Bianca no longer needed a nurse, and Primavera could be let go.

“I lost both sons to Cesare’s wars,” said Primavera pointedly.

My only grandson is a hunter, and seeing what conscription did to his father and uncle, he keeps out of the way of the condottieri.

“Send her to me,” said Lucrezia. “She has her supper to eat,” said Primavera. “I’ll send her to you when she’s fed.” “You won’t correct me, “ said Lucrezia. “You won’t dare.” “I beg your forgiveness with all my heart, and trust in your legendary mercy,” said Primavera dryly. She took herself off to the kitchen, histrionically wheezing on the stairs.

Primavera is a goddamn queen

Primavera called Bianca to come clean her hands and wipe her face. Then she bellowed for Fra Ludovico to come bless the damned meal before it got cold.

Hello, this is I, and these my arms and legs, which are useful, and this inconvenient hump is my sorrow, which is less than useful, but I’ve learned how to hump it about with me, so pay it no mind.

“Well, she’s grown then,” said Lucrezia crossly. “I forgot that children grow.” “What a natural mother you are.”

Bianca knew enough not to come forward. “A mouse doesn’t accept invitations from a cat,” she said politely. “A mouse wouldn’t know how to converse with a cat.” “She’s got the trim of your sails!” Lucrezia hooted with unprincipled glee.

Don’t bring this desperate campaign down to a seduction.”

I'd call it a rape.

Children didn’t regularly sit in the presence of their betters—primarily so that they could get a head start should they have to run for safety.