It had been raining last night, so the streets were muddy and slippery, but, after months of threading her way through them she learned how to watch her steps, especially when running from peelers or drunken ramblers.
Still, stepping into the sunlight, in the middle of the crowded free trade zone, the former Marquise d'Albon and Baroness de Valois sighed and tied her handkercher, hiding her strawberry blond locks, while catching a glimpse of the busy merchants and hurried Parisians.
With her the mud starting to dry on her hackneyed skirts and while trying to make herself inconspicuous, she managed to escape observation and get lost in the crowd, where her thin body helped her percolate through hurried citizens and her quick-moving, slender fingers instinctively guided her to the money bags.
The coins' jingle induced her a provocative laughter that managed to surprise even Isabelle for a moment. Then the realisation hit her: she wasn't afraid anymore. Nothing managed to frighten her, not even the thought that her soul will burn in Hell for eternity under the oppressive burden of her sins. As a matter of fact, what was fear? A fool's emotion as were love and pride. Only honest people allowed themselves to feel fear. Fear that made them quiver under their blankets and in their beds the moment they heard Paris' paupers, thieves and beggars following close under their houses' windows during the night, on their way to Cimetière des Saints-Innocents or even Cour des Miracles.
Suddenly, someone's outcry triggered the madness and all at once the people took alarm and all the pickpockets that were present on Pont Neuf that late morning had to take wings in order to escape from the peelers that were on the way.
What Isabelle realized a moment too late was that the one who triggered the whole event was her. While trying to cut a nobleman's bag, an egg woman saw her and alerted everyone. What was even worse was that the exact same noble whose bag she was trying to steal was now sorely squeezing her wrist. And then she realized she was caught and she was suddenly hit by a vertiginous wave of fear. In a moment she was unconscious in his arms, unaware of the hustle she caused.
The first thing she took notice of the moment she opened her eyes was the silk bedding and for a moment she allowed herself to believe that the past two years were only a nightmare and that she was still the Marquise d'Albon.
But them she recognized his deep, green glance and she was afraid again. There he was, by her bed, taking a good look at her. The fact that she no longer had her dress on her only made Isabelle even more embarrassed so she tried to hide her body under the covers, while hoping that everything was just a new nightmare that she will wake up from. Ignoring her embarrassment and the unusual circumstances they both found themselves into, the man got up from his chair and executed a a profound reverence in front of her, introducing himself: Cardinal Cesare Borgia, Duc de Valentinois.
Isabelle couldn't turn whiter and in an instant she became insensible again.
The second time she woke up the room was dark, but the cool night's wind helped her come to herself. A handmaid quickly took notice of that and drew near her, offering her a glass of something that radiated a pungent scent. Isabelle accepted it and drank the unpleasant liquid anyway, because she felt her throat sore and her lips burned. Then the older woman said something in Italian and left the room, leaving her alone again.
But this time Isabelle wasn't going to wait for the Cardinal to be back. She thought about her daughter that was probably starved and scared, crying for her mother somewhere in the cradle. She got up from the bed and started to fumble for her clothes in the darkness, without any success unfortunately. She even considered escaping through the open window, but she quickly abandoned that intention when she realized her room was somewhere on the second floor, probably outside Paris. Finally she gave up and returned to bed, where she decided to wait for her abductor's return. She would apologize and explain her situation and maybe then he will allow her to get back to her daughter.
The next day, around midday, when Isabelle was starting to think that the Cardinal probably abandoned her, locked into the room, he walked into her room and, after executing another unnecessary courtesy, he took off his mantle and gently laid her child into her arms. Unable to hold back her tears anymore, she burst out crying, hugging and kissing her daughter while trying to find her words to thank him.
After making sure her daughter was fed and clean, she laid her child to sleep, put on a clean dress the maid offered her accepted the Cardinal's invitation to have dinner with him.
Intoxicated with the sweet French wine and ravishing luxury of his residence, Isabelle found herself studying the young Italian's features. He was around 26 or 27, not even 30 yet, with dark-brown, almost back, wavy hair and cold, arrogant, green eyes that still frightened her, while also sending pleasant shivers trough her entire body. His gestures were calculated, but the cruelty she could read in his eyes made him a very unusual cleric.
That night, under the wine's flavour, he told her about his life. About his father, the corrupted Pope and his mother, the Pope's lover. And while he related all those things to her, she let herself be caught into his spell and became his mistress.
One week later, Isabelle became Isabella, while accompanying her Cardinal back to Rome.
Many years later, when Isabelle will have time to give thought to that period of her life, the two years she spent among the faith's disowned, she will often whisper to herself that she must have been insane back then.
In fact, it was the exact same insanity that made her survive in that awful world. And even if it may not have been insanity, it felt like a torpor that took hold of her senses, more like an primal need to live through everything.
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The name Isabelle sounds familiar. Wasn't she the little girl with strange habits and an overprotective mother whose mother got wounded in the fire of the house and became saved by a random forest wanderer and became impregnated by him? The father probably is now in the "new world". This grown woman is probably the little girl, right?
In the Roman Catholic Church, clerics would have vowed clerical celibacy. It appears that the Pope of Rome had an affair with a random women and fathered a son who became the Cardinal, who in turn had an affair with Isabelle. Man, this family is all messed up! XD
Not only that, wouldn't it be awkward if a man were to stare at you while you are undressed in your bedroom? It appears that Isabelle feels no shame! XD
Well, there have been three Isabelles in my game ^^" (I haven't realized that until now XD ).The first one is Queen Isabelle de Croy, the second one was Isabelle de Valois (Princess Blanche de Croy and Duke Maximilian de Valois' daughter ; she died the night when her family's castle burned, in 1625) and, of course, the third one is the other Isabelle de Valois (nee Marquise d'Albon).
You can find her profile here.I'm sure you will remember her ^^
http://dark-ages-stories.blogspot.ro/2012/06/isabelle-dalbon-de-valois.html
After her husband's execution, she vanished somewhere among Paris' paupers at Cour des Miracles, where she gave birth to a daughter, Athenais.
She lived there for two years, stealing and learning how to survive.
I know about the celibacy vow, but, of course, like many of the characters from my stories, Cardinal Cesare Borgia is inspired by a real person who existed in Rome, from 1498 to 1507. He was the son of Pope Alexander VI and his mistress Vannozza dei Cattanei (Pope Alexander VI fathered many children, including the famous Lucrezia Borgia).
And ... it wasn't her bedroom ^^" It was a bedroom from the Cardinal's house in Paris ^^" After the girl passed out, he took her to his house ^^"
Do you really make your Sims steal to survive? Or is that just part of the story? In reality, how did she survive? In other words, how did you play her?
Well, most of it is just for the story, because everything would be too complicated if I wanted to play the way I write ^^"
I made her leave the house she and her husband used to own (the house, along with their titles and entire fortune were confiscated) and move into a new lot I specially prepared for her.It was kind of a ruined old castle (something like Nesle's Tower of the old city wall of Paris) that's a lot like the bandits' hiding place. She had a room there, with a bed and a place for her daughter to sleep.I couldn't make her steal, I just pretended ^^" (gave her some little money every day, just enough to survive).
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