Leo III postponed until the very end what he had to do: meeting his son, Prince Alfonso.
His mistress, Isabella, and his son's wife, Ariadne, fought each other, one of them losing her unborn child, and the other was whipped to death.
'It's a headache... It's a headache.'
There was no way to avoid discussions about whether this was Isabella's fault or Ariadne's, whether Isabella had more punishment left to be meted out, whether Ariadne should be punished as well, whether one side should apologize to the other, and so on.
But Leo III hated that conversation more than death. Unlike in the past, when he could decide as he pleased, he now had to cater to his grown son's wishes. The conversation he was about to have with Alfonso was closer to the realm of coordination than notification. He didn't like it at all.
He postponed meetings that wouldn't yield a conclusion to his liking, month after month, from their opening date. If he could, he would never see his son again.
But as with all procrastination, it would have been better to just get things done quickly and without delay. And that's exactly what happened this time.
“Have you heard the public opinion? It’s completely flipped.”
While Leo III lingered, avoiding Prince Alfonso, the Marchioness de Cibo, the Countess de Baljo, Camellia, and their friends worked diligently. In just a few days, the aristocratic society of San Carlo, once largely sympathetic to Isabella, underwent a complete transformation.
“The Princess, no, not the Princess, but the Countess. Anyway, Countess de Mare shed tears. She asked if she could meet her baby again without even being baptized... I feel so bad for her.”
“Isn’t this the first time Countess Contarini has dropped someone else’s child?”
This part was thanks to the enthusiastic participation of Camellia and her friends. Camellia was no longer in a position to venture into society, but Julia and Cornelia were. Even Cornelia's younger sister, Lady Bedelia, joined in, and they brought up this topic whenever they were at gatherings for the ladies.
“Don’t you remember what Isabella did to Camellia?”
"Ah!"
The story that was circulating in the gathering of young women spread to the gathering of women through the mothers' connections.
“Why, there’s the Baron Castiglione.”
“A house that imports textiles? They’re a Baron’s family, they’re very wealthy.”
“Countess Contarini also pushed the daughter of that house to miscarry!”
“Oh my, what grudge did you have?”
“At the costume party last year... the daughter of the Baron Castiglione was originally Count Contarini’s fiancée.”
“Oh, that’s right!”
“She stole her man, and she tormented her because she didn’t want to see his ex-fiancée, and then she even made her drop the baby she was carrying after getting married!”
“No, why is she getting angry when she stole it herself? If someone saw her, they would think she were his fiancée.”
"Yes, let's say you hated your husband's ex-fiancée. That's understandable. But your own sister is a different story! How could you kill your own sister's child, your own niece?"
“Even that’s the Prince’s son!”
“You poor thing that can’t even be baptized and can’t reincarnate!”
By the time Leo III was forced to see Alfonso's face for his regular breakfast, public opinion had already shifted dramatically. The newfound sympathy was fueled by the belief that Isabella had already committed a crime and that the Prince's poor baby had died before being baptized.
As public opinion grew increasingly critical of Isabella, Prince Alfonso, the eye of the storm, appeared before his father's eyes.
“Your Majesty. It’s been a long time.”
Prince Alfonso's remarkably ordinary greeting as he entered the King's small banquet hall sounded to the sensitive ears of Leo III as something like, 'It's been a long time since I've seen you. It's really difficult to meet you face to face, Your Majesty, you piece of trash who runs away like a loach.'
“Ahem!”
Leo III, unable to conceal his discomfort from the outset, coughed loudly. Nevertheless, Alfonso remained composed and asked.
“I hope you had a pleasant trip to the hot springs.”
“Yeah, next time I plan to take Isabella too.”
It was a sudden outburst before he could even tell his son to sit down. Even Alfonso, with his good nature, couldn't help but react to such provocation.
The Prince's thick eyebrows rose high into the air. Alfonso slowly questioned.
“You don’t plan on kicking her out, do you?”
This was the minimum Alfonso could afford. Even if she escaped the death penalty, he couldn't stand to see Isabella de Contarini wandering around the court.
But Leo III's feelings were aroused in a truly new and surprising way.
“That woman?"
Leo III's face turned red, and he shouted.
“Be polite to your father’s woman!”
It was a sudden outburst of anger. There was no logic to it.
"Isabella is my official mistress! She's not some random woman!"
“Official mistress?”
Despite Leo III's rebuke, Prince Alfonso's expression was quite peculiar. He was telling the King's sole heir to respect the King's official government. While he couldn't hide it from them, the old King was completely lost in what was important.
One could have argued about the hierarchy of status. Could one even draw such a distinction between the only legitimate Prince, second in line, though not Crown Prince, and a mere Countess? But the question Alfonso posed approached from a very different angle.
“Have you ever protected my deceased mother this much?”
Leo III was momentarily speechless. Flashes of his own persecution of Marguerite for Rubina's treason flashed through his mind, yet he felt no remorse. Now speechless, the King couldn't contain his anger and burst into rage.
“Where are you, you rude one!”
He was so angry because he had a vague sense that he was doing something wrong. He didn't know the specifics. He just felt a surge of anger at the thought that he couldn't lose. The veins in Leo III's neck and temples turned blue.
“You are my child, and before you are my child, you are my subject!”
"You're nothing special, so don't be a dog," Leo III said, pointing at his son.
“You should bow down and obey me!”
"Father."
It was a superhuman display of patience that kept Alfonso from raising his voice until now. Or perhaps the situation was so absurd that his anger hadn't yet reached boiling point.
Alfonso summed up the situation in one word.
“That woman killed my father’s grandson.”
Leo III's lips trembled. If Isabella were accused of royal murder, he could never save her. From Leo III's perspective, the more accurate the statement, the better the summary, the more he couldn't agree with it.
“I never approved it!”
Leo III roared explosively.
“That dark-haired siren is a woman you brought in without permission, and I have never accepted that lowly woman as my daughter-in-law!”
The fact that he had once coveted Ariadne, and that Isabella, whom he had brought in, and Ariadne were real sisters, seemed to have completely disappeared from Leo III's mind as he criticized Ariadne's status.
“How could the monarch’s lineage be tarnished by a woman who was not even of noble birth, and whose mother was a servant girl!”
"Father!"
“A brat who couldn’t even become an heir, born from a lowly mother, is not my grandson!”
Alfonso felt something snap in his head.
Leo III's recent actions were all pathetic and simultaneously blazing with malice, yet he had always tried to be benevolent in his actions. There was an expectation that he would have a minimal sense of responsibility as a King, but more importantly, he still had some happy memories of his childhood.
“Our successor! A fluffy golden puppy!”
The dazzling sunlight, the joyful laughter of his mother, his father's cheerful voice and powerful embrace, the feeling of his father lifting him into his mother's embrace, filled with the scent of lilies. Those happy times for the three families remained only as fragments of memory.
And that short piece, like a sticky glue, kept Alfonso by Leo III's side for a long time.
Even when he was imprisoned in the palace of Gallico, desperate for repatriation, even when he was waiting for supplies that never came from the Yesak War, drinking muddy water and losing his trusted men without any medicine, he believed that the situation at home was simply dire.
He believed that the Etruscan kingdom was unaware of what was happening to him, that help was delayed by the rough seas, and that his father had not truly abandoned him. It was a belief unrelated to the truth. It was a faith that sustained him.
But Leo III's words now were truly abusive, devoid of any respect for Alfonso. No matter how hard he tried to conceal them, his lack of even the slightest affection or consideration was blatantly evident.
Looking into his son's wide, glaring eyes, Leo III saw a glimpse of the past. What he now saw was the image of his dead Queen, who had always looked down on him with a pitying air, her moral superiority. The old King shuddered.
“I don’t care if you die or not!”
Leo III cried out.
“Don’t even think about asking me for something just because it's dead!”
There was nothing to ask for. No, there was only one thing: heartfelt condolences.
The other party has neither the intention nor the ability to give it.
Alfonso stood up roughly from his seat. He stared intently into his father's eyes and spat out,
“You will regret today.”
The old King twisted his body as if in a fit.
“You? At that time?”
Leo III gasped and screamed.
“Look here! Look here! Is there anyone there!!!”
His mistress, Isabella, and his son's wife, Ariadne, fought each other, one of them losing her unborn child, and the other was whipped to death.
'It's a headache... It's a headache.'
There was no way to avoid discussions about whether this was Isabella's fault or Ariadne's, whether Isabella had more punishment left to be meted out, whether Ariadne should be punished as well, whether one side should apologize to the other, and so on.
But Leo III hated that conversation more than death. Unlike in the past, when he could decide as he pleased, he now had to cater to his grown son's wishes. The conversation he was about to have with Alfonso was closer to the realm of coordination than notification. He didn't like it at all.
He postponed meetings that wouldn't yield a conclusion to his liking, month after month, from their opening date. If he could, he would never see his son again.
But as with all procrastination, it would have been better to just get things done quickly and without delay. And that's exactly what happened this time.
“Have you heard the public opinion? It’s completely flipped.”
While Leo III lingered, avoiding Prince Alfonso, the Marchioness de Cibo, the Countess de Baljo, Camellia, and their friends worked diligently. In just a few days, the aristocratic society of San Carlo, once largely sympathetic to Isabella, underwent a complete transformation.
“The Princess, no, not the Princess, but the Countess. Anyway, Countess de Mare shed tears. She asked if she could meet her baby again without even being baptized... I feel so bad for her.”
“Isn’t this the first time Countess Contarini has dropped someone else’s child?”
This part was thanks to the enthusiastic participation of Camellia and her friends. Camellia was no longer in a position to venture into society, but Julia and Cornelia were. Even Cornelia's younger sister, Lady Bedelia, joined in, and they brought up this topic whenever they were at gatherings for the ladies.
“Don’t you remember what Isabella did to Camellia?”
"Ah!"
The story that was circulating in the gathering of young women spread to the gathering of women through the mothers' connections.
“Why, there’s the Baron Castiglione.”
“A house that imports textiles? They’re a Baron’s family, they’re very wealthy.”
“Countess Contarini also pushed the daughter of that house to miscarry!”
“Oh my, what grudge did you have?”
“At the costume party last year... the daughter of the Baron Castiglione was originally Count Contarini’s fiancée.”
“Oh, that’s right!”
“She stole her man, and she tormented her because she didn’t want to see his ex-fiancée, and then she even made her drop the baby she was carrying after getting married!”
“No, why is she getting angry when she stole it herself? If someone saw her, they would think she were his fiancée.”
"Yes, let's say you hated your husband's ex-fiancée. That's understandable. But your own sister is a different story! How could you kill your own sister's child, your own niece?"
“Even that’s the Prince’s son!”
“You poor thing that can’t even be baptized and can’t reincarnate!”
By the time Leo III was forced to see Alfonso's face for his regular breakfast, public opinion had already shifted dramatically. The newfound sympathy was fueled by the belief that Isabella had already committed a crime and that the Prince's poor baby had died before being baptized.
As public opinion grew increasingly critical of Isabella, Prince Alfonso, the eye of the storm, appeared before his father's eyes.
“Your Majesty. It’s been a long time.”
Prince Alfonso's remarkably ordinary greeting as he entered the King's small banquet hall sounded to the sensitive ears of Leo III as something like, 'It's been a long time since I've seen you. It's really difficult to meet you face to face, Your Majesty, you piece of trash who runs away like a loach.'
“Ahem!”
Leo III, unable to conceal his discomfort from the outset, coughed loudly. Nevertheless, Alfonso remained composed and asked.
“I hope you had a pleasant trip to the hot springs.”
“Yeah, next time I plan to take Isabella too.”
It was a sudden outburst before he could even tell his son to sit down. Even Alfonso, with his good nature, couldn't help but react to such provocation.
The Prince's thick eyebrows rose high into the air. Alfonso slowly questioned.
“You don’t plan on kicking her out, do you?”
This was the minimum Alfonso could afford. Even if she escaped the death penalty, he couldn't stand to see Isabella de Contarini wandering around the court.
But Leo III's feelings were aroused in a truly new and surprising way.
“That woman?"
Leo III's face turned red, and he shouted.
“Be polite to your father’s woman!”
It was a sudden outburst of anger. There was no logic to it.
"Isabella is my official mistress! She's not some random woman!"
“Official mistress?”
Despite Leo III's rebuke, Prince Alfonso's expression was quite peculiar. He was telling the King's sole heir to respect the King's official government. While he couldn't hide it from them, the old King was completely lost in what was important.
One could have argued about the hierarchy of status. Could one even draw such a distinction between the only legitimate Prince, second in line, though not Crown Prince, and a mere Countess? But the question Alfonso posed approached from a very different angle.
“Have you ever protected my deceased mother this much?”
Leo III was momentarily speechless. Flashes of his own persecution of Marguerite for Rubina's treason flashed through his mind, yet he felt no remorse. Now speechless, the King couldn't contain his anger and burst into rage.
“Where are you, you rude one!”
He was so angry because he had a vague sense that he was doing something wrong. He didn't know the specifics. He just felt a surge of anger at the thought that he couldn't lose. The veins in Leo III's neck and temples turned blue.
“You are my child, and before you are my child, you are my subject!”
"You're nothing special, so don't be a dog," Leo III said, pointing at his son.
“You should bow down and obey me!”
"Father."
It was a superhuman display of patience that kept Alfonso from raising his voice until now. Or perhaps the situation was so absurd that his anger hadn't yet reached boiling point.
Alfonso summed up the situation in one word.
“That woman killed my father’s grandson.”
Leo III's lips trembled. If Isabella were accused of royal murder, he could never save her. From Leo III's perspective, the more accurate the statement, the better the summary, the more he couldn't agree with it.
“I never approved it!”
Leo III roared explosively.
“That dark-haired siren is a woman you brought in without permission, and I have never accepted that lowly woman as my daughter-in-law!”
The fact that he had once coveted Ariadne, and that Isabella, whom he had brought in, and Ariadne were real sisters, seemed to have completely disappeared from Leo III's mind as he criticized Ariadne's status.
“How could the monarch’s lineage be tarnished by a woman who was not even of noble birth, and whose mother was a servant girl!”
"Father!"
“A brat who couldn’t even become an heir, born from a lowly mother, is not my grandson!”
Alfonso felt something snap in his head.
Leo III's recent actions were all pathetic and simultaneously blazing with malice, yet he had always tried to be benevolent in his actions. There was an expectation that he would have a minimal sense of responsibility as a King, but more importantly, he still had some happy memories of his childhood.
“Our successor! A fluffy golden puppy!”
The dazzling sunlight, the joyful laughter of his mother, his father's cheerful voice and powerful embrace, the feeling of his father lifting him into his mother's embrace, filled with the scent of lilies. Those happy times for the three families remained only as fragments of memory.
And that short piece, like a sticky glue, kept Alfonso by Leo III's side for a long time.
Even when he was imprisoned in the palace of Gallico, desperate for repatriation, even when he was waiting for supplies that never came from the Yesak War, drinking muddy water and losing his trusted men without any medicine, he believed that the situation at home was simply dire.
He believed that the Etruscan kingdom was unaware of what was happening to him, that help was delayed by the rough seas, and that his father had not truly abandoned him. It was a belief unrelated to the truth. It was a faith that sustained him.
But Leo III's words now were truly abusive, devoid of any respect for Alfonso. No matter how hard he tried to conceal them, his lack of even the slightest affection or consideration was blatantly evident.
Looking into his son's wide, glaring eyes, Leo III saw a glimpse of the past. What he now saw was the image of his dead Queen, who had always looked down on him with a pitying air, her moral superiority. The old King shuddered.
“I don’t care if you die or not!”
Leo III cried out.
“Don’t even think about asking me for something just because it's dead!”
There was nothing to ask for. No, there was only one thing: heartfelt condolences.
The other party has neither the intention nor the ability to give it.
Alfonso stood up roughly from his seat. He stared intently into his father's eyes and spat out,
“You will regret today.”
The old King twisted his body as if in a fit.
“You? At that time?”
Leo III gasped and screamed.
“Look here! Look here! Is there anyone there!!!”
Comments
Post a Comment