Death of a Duchess by Elizabeth Eyre Read Free Book Online Page A

by with an empty dish, but the boy made a difficulty over taking hold of it. From behind, Benno said, ‘Let me, sir,’ and took the dove in willing wine-stained hands.
    At this stage of the feast, the guests had all but forgotten the shadows of the Duke’s anger that had lowered over the start. They were reminded of the savage nature that lurks in all humankind by the next diversion. To a discordant squeal of music, two lines of dwarves, possibly those from the sea battle, possibly spares, burst through the curtains, getting tangled on purpose in their folds, and fanned out, carrying with exaggerated effort two long chains ending in a collar round the neck of a Wild Man, whose mask was more sad than savage. Shaking shaggy arms and making a dismal roar, he capered at the centre, pretending to wrestle with his collar and shrinking in mock terror when dwarves at the rear cracked whips at him.
    A moment’s hesitation came, when some of the dwarves were seen to glance at one another, nudge and argue, the next move uncertain, or as if the dwarf responsible for it was absent. The Wild Man solved the problem by falling on his knees before the Duke, grovelling in tribute and holding out his furry hands for pardon. The Duke, smiling, signalled to him to rise and he, springing to his feet, tore at his collar and broke it apart in triumph. The dwarves, apparently pulling on the chains to control him, now fell over. One line managed to keep the domino effect, the other failed and tumbled in shrieking heaps. One of the guests laughed part of his dinner back onto his plate.
    The Wild Man, now free, crouched and stared round. He made little rushes here and there, the dwarves getting to their feet and running from him shedding whips, hats and bits of chain, taking refuge behind the servers, behind curtains and under the tables where they caused havoc among the ladies’ skirts.
    The Wild Man now heard the music for the first time, cupping his paw behind his ear. The dwarves hushed, the diners hushed. The harp rippled, the clavicembalo’s sweetest tones charmed. The Wild Man’s movements became gentle. The dwarves emerged and danced, and he made humble efforts to copy them, became increasingly confident, and leapt about. In his happy dance he appeared of a sudden to see the Duchess. He pressed his hands to his eyes as though blinded, then with a bound of dreadful agility he was poised on the high table itself among the cups and dishes. The Lady Cecilia, either frightened or offended that the Wild Man’s head was turned towards the Duchess and not the bride, shrieked so loudly that she could be heard above the dwarves’ renewed clamour.
    The Duchess, on the contrary, applauded and the Wild Man began to curvet among the plates with delicate skill, touching nothing, keeping time to the music. The dwarves, reassured as to his tameness, crept closer to watch. Bending low before the Duchess and putting his head wistfully to one side, the Wild Man drew from the bosom of his costume a heart of red satin which he held out to her. The Duchess, with an amused smile, took it, and as he sprang up in joy his furred foot — alas — struck the Duchess’s goblet, sending it flying. Wine flooded across the cloth and onto her silver brocade. There was a general gasp, the harpist stopped, the Duchess was on her feet.
    All the guests of course rose, a bench overturned, and stewards ran forward with their wands to deal with the Wild Man. He had already sprung backwards from the table and now cowered and howled, his arms over his head. The Duchess could be heard commanding the stewards not to beat the poor savage, and she was laughing. She asked the guests to be seated, and a rustle all through the hall followed her order. She spoke to the Duke and to the Lady Cecilia, and withdrew. While she was going to change her dress, the bride was not to wait on her this evening.
    The Wild Man ran from the hall, still desolately howling and followed by the dwarves,