Maria bit her lip. There was some truth in that, she had to acknowledge. Especially this afternoon. She knew that the source of the "curse" on her house was Sophia Tomaselli, even if she couldn't prove it. She'd heard some of what Benito had not told her—just what Sophia had said, to the Justices, to the curious gathered around as she and the other women were taken away. Vitriolic, to say the least, and Sophia placed all of the blame on being caught on Maria. And though of course it was not in the least logical, if you believed Sophia, it was Maria who had somehow forced her into the spy's service.
"It's . . . it's just the injustice of it all. It's not right!"
The older woman looked at her thoughtfully. "A sense of justice is a part of what makes us what we are. Some of us are willing to suffer ourselves to make sure there is retribution . . . even if it costs us. You are one like that."
Maria thought back to her single-handed vendetta against the Casa Dandelo, when Caesare wouldn't help—and Benito, the scamp, did. "Yes. I suppose so."
"But are you prepared to extract the cost of your retribution from others? From innocent parties. From your friends?"
Just the intonation said to Maria that this was a very important question. A question far wider than just the issues she'd run to Renate with. She paused to think. Maria thought of what Benito had said about Alessia. And of what she'd decided to do.
She shook her head. "No."
Renate smiled. Maria noticed that small lines eased from around her eyes. "The Goddess and her followers do not practice retribution."
"I don't think I can forgive that woman for what she tried to do."
Renate shook her head. "Neither could I. But our justice is based on restitution. And restitution finds no gain in mere retribution. Sophia Tomaselli was looking for retribution. She was quite content to hurt innocent parties in her quest to get it."
Maria sighed. "Yes. But . . . well, it was such a small thing. I mean she set out to attack everything—my life, my loved ones' lives, for something so small. So unimportant. Who on earth cares if some people think I'm more attractive than she is? Why would it make any difference to me? It's not as if I'm competing with her for anything! It's not fair."
Renate curled her lip. "Of course it is not fair. Such a person is an island of their own self-importance. The fact that their retribution is totally out of proportion, will not benefit them, and will hurt others, is irrelevant. You dared to slight the most important person in her universe. Anything is acceptable to punish you."
Maria paused for a while sipping the tea. This might all be true. But it didn't apply directly to her problem right now . . . did it?
"So what do I do about her, Priestess? I'm not having that woman on the loose to endanger my man or my child again. She might try anything. Poison. Thugs. Planting evidence to make us look like traitors."
Renate smiled. "I am only the priestess when I let down my hair and don the robes." She pursed her lips. "Of course, a charge of attempted murder should stick. I suggest tomorrow you swear one out. The fact that she used a weapon that she did not know wouldn't work, does not alter the fact that she tried. After all, if a man tries to shoot another and the weapon fails to fire, it is still an attempt at murder. She would be confined again in that case." The older woman took a deep breath. "Other than that, you must come to me every day now. I must teach you certain magics and certain rituals that will protect you and yours. I must teach you, too, how to control that temper of yours. How to break it to harness."
"Me? I can't do magic!"
The priestess stood up and put her hands on either side of Maria's head. "You already do magic. Magic that Eneko Lopez does not understand exists. Magic more powerful than he understands. An old, rough and elemental kind of magic, but strong."
She took her hands away and tugged at a sidelock of her white hair, a gesture indicating thought in the priestess who was also the governor's wife. "You know, I know a great deal about Sophia Tomaselli. In some ways we are very alike."
Maria shook her head vehemently. "You couldn't be more un-alike!
Renate twinkled. "I think that's a compliment. But there are some similarities that Eneko Lopez would see. For example: We are both aristocrats at the apogee of our social setting. We both turned to other sources of comfort after we arrived here. We both, I believe, did so for the same reasons: We both wanted to get pregnant. I know Sophia has tried all sorts of 'treatments' and diets and consulted churchmen at some length. She fell in with a trickster. I . . . fell in with one of my maids. She was a Corfiote and felt sorry for me. There, but for fortune, went I."
Maria shook her head again, vehement. "No. Sophia cares for nobody but herself. It's a blessing she's never had a child. You care for everybody. I don't believe you'd have done something like trying to curse me and mine. That's not like you."
"I don't think I would have done what she did, no. And caring is what the sisterhood looks for: sisterhood. And that was why I was taken to the temple. That is why you were. And that is why she wasn't."
"The two things are not alike at all," said Maria, stubbornly sticking to her earlier contention. "The Mother is gentle—not sick!"
Renate shrugged ruefully. "Stella is inclined to sensationalize news, but still, yes, those women were seeking perversion. Probably some of it came out of their mothers telling them that the natural urges and pleasures of their bodies were bad, wrong, and evil. Therefore they came to conclude that evil gave pleasure. Possibly only because they were bored and their husbands were under the impression that if they were pleasured and pleased, it didn't matter if their wives were." She sighed. "I don't want to deceive you, Maria. The great Goddess . . . well, there is one aspect that does call for a willing sacrifice. And the spring ritual dance is conducted in the nude. But no men are part of it. It is done for a reason."
She stood up again. "Now, I think you're all safe enough tonight. Here." She took from her reticule a sprig of green holly. "Prickly thing. And full of the heart of green-ness. Put it above the door lintel. Not with cold iron. If it turns black—come running, and bring your child. And go barefoot if you can. Touching the earth, it will be difficult for any other magic to affect you."
Now she looked mischievous. "Don't tell Eneko Lopez that's why his spells don't work well here. Contact with the earth of Corcyra. The earth here drinks magic. The more they use, the less well it works. And the magic is reborn in other forms within the Earth. We use it."
"I want to learn."
"Very well. You must come to me, here. This hilltop was a temple before it was a fort. One of the entries to the inner temple is still here."
Chapter 79
He looked as though he might very possibly throttle her, thought Sophia. He hadn't said a word all the way back to their chambers in the east wing of the fortress. Now, with the heavy door closed behind them, he turned on her in fury.
"How could you, you bitch! How could you! I'm the laughingstock of the Citadel. I'll be the laughingstock of all Venice when the siege is over. I'll never hold another position of authority you—you— My mother was right! I should never have married you!"