Eldest Daughter by Anna May

Eldest Daughter

by Anna May

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Belefiore: Bell-AY-fee-or-AY

Vincenzo: Vin-CHEN-zo

Alcina: Al-SEA-na

Sofia: Sof-EE-a

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I should have known something like this would happen. Belefiore put her head in her hands and  fought to keep from crying. Her younger sisters, Alcina and Sofia, lay on low couches, sleeping fitfully. But Belefiore had not slept well in many months, and their capture had not eased her insomnia. I’m the eldest, bad luck always comes to the eldest in love. So it is in every story I’ve ever recounted for little Sofia, every story Mama ever told me on her knee. If only! The third child, always the third child, everything works out for her. If I’d been the youngest, this wouldn’t be happening. I’d have been able to go off and seek my fortune, even if I am a princess, and Vincenzo wouldn’t have been banished, and we wouldn’t be here!

She looked around the room where she and her sisters had been taken. It was quite lovely, large, with many little lamps and pretty red and gold throw rugs. A single window was, to her dismay, locked, and seemed to have been bricked up in any case. The wide oaken door on the other end of the room was also locked, not that she would have tried to escape through it in anyway. Never go toe to toe with a sorcerer, her nursemaid had always said, as she told stories to the three princesses. Belefiore had listened to every word of those stories, and as much as she longed to be a proud, brave princess-warrior, like Fanta-Ghiro or Filomena, she knew that it was pointless. She had her sisters to look after, as the eldest, and had nothing to fight for her freedom with anyway.

“I’m sorry, miei cari, my dear ones. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault.” 12-year-old Sofia said sleepily, having given up on slumber while her older sister was lost in thought. “ You couldn’t have known that Papa would have sent us away, and that we’d be attacked when we returned. Please don’t cry.”

Belefiore reached up with her little white kerchief, wiping her eyes. She always cried, when she thought of Vincenzo.

He’d been a mere baker back home, in Pisa, at the palace, but he’d always had a smile for her, or a bit of chocolate covered biscotti. They’d spoken when he’d come to pick rosemary from the gardens for bread, while she sat with her stitching, or when he’d come across her path on his way to the storehouses for more flour. Vincenzo may have been only a common baker, but his kindness was far from common, and he had shown more friendship to Belefiore than any of the sons of nobles her father hoped she would wed, who’d seemed more interested in her crown than in her heart. So, through the years, from when she was no older than little Sofia until now, the oldest of the three princesses at seventeen, she had fallen in love with him, and he with her. They’d even dared to hope of a future together, if only her father could be convinced. Commoners had married princess before, after all, in the old tales, and in neighboring cities.

Then her father had found out, from his secretary, and that hope had been dashed. Vincenzo had been driven from the city, and the three princesses were sent to stay with their uncle for six months. They’d been on their way back when thick fog had come from nowhere and engulfed the carriage, and a sorcerer had carried them off. 

If only! Belefiore thought, rising to search the room yet again for a way out. Alcina woke too, shrugging off the lace shawl that covered her thin shoulders, and went to the window. Finding it locked, she started to weep. 

Belefiore stopped her pacing, and wrapped her arms around her middle sister. “It’ll be all right, Alcina. Papa will send his soldiers to find us, you know he will.” I just hope they find us soon. She held the girl for some time, stroking her hair, and as Alcina wept for their mama, papa, and nursemaid, Belefiore could only say, soothingly, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

Time passed- with no sun or stars, the three girls could not guess how long. At last, even Belefiore was claimed by sleep, real sleep, and when she woke, she was startled to see trays of food, as well as a tall man- the sorcerer.

“You will not be harmed, unless you act foolishly,” he warned as she shook her sisters awake.

“Your father has wronged me, and he shall regret that. I shall return tonight. You may eat, and you may sew,” he pointed to a wicker hamper that Belefiore recognized as her own sewing basket.

“Yes, sir,” Belefiore said, meekly. She did not want to anger a man who could kill her or her sisters in a heartbeat if he so chose. That seemed to satisfy him, and he left, latching the door behind him.

With nothing to do but sew, that is exactly what the three girls set to doing. Belefiore carefully laid out the suit of clothes she’d begun at the start of their exile- a handsome grey silk outfit of trousers, shirt, and vest, all to be embroidered with twining vines and the crimson shield and gold crown that was Pisa’s crest. Her sisters had not said a word of it, but they knew that she was not making it for any of the noble boys that courted her, but for the Baker-boy she loved.

Their days fell into a routine, sewing by day, and by night When the sorcerer returned to the locked room, they took turns waving the large silk fans over him as he slept- for he woke in a terrible fury if ever they stopped. And always, they hoped for rescue, dreamt of it, prayed for it. A week and a day passed this way, until the suit of clothes was nearly finished, and on that day, Sofia heard the splash from the other side of the window.

“It’s a well, Bele, not bricked up at all! ‘Cina, if we can just break the glass, we can... Oh. I supposed it’d be a long way, but someone must be up there, I heard something fall in!”

Belefiore and Alcina were at the window in a matter of heartbeats, banging on the window and crying out for help, but no one came.

At least, not for several hours. Belefiore was sitting in the window seat this time, finishing the last stitches on the vest’s bright red shield. The sorcerer would be back soon, she knew, and she was silently pleading, come back, whoever you are, come back!

She was just as surprised as her sisters, through, when a hand knocked on the window, then pried it open with the flat of an eating knife. Through this improvised entryway came a handsome youth, fair haired and beaming a smile that was only rivaled by Belefiore’s own.

“Vincenzo!” As soon as he was fully in the room, she threw her arms around his neck,and he embraced her in return.

“How did you find us?” she asked, laughing. Surely, her father would have offered a reward to whomever rescued her, he could not begrudge them their future together now.

“A miracle. My companions and I found a little hut, and I dropped something in the well. Hurry, we’ll pull you up.” 

But Belefiore could hear footsteps. “ You must go, hurry, the sorcerer is returning, he’ll kill you!” Vincenzo took her hand and kissed it.

“I will return in the night, and free you, my love. I promise.” he said as he stepped through the window.

Belefiore nodded, tears pricking at her eyes, “Go!”

Vincenzo was as good as his word, and returned as the princesses fanned.

“He’ll wake if we stop,” Belefiore hissed, but the baker only nodded. He addressed Sofia, “There is a loop in the rope, your Highness, you must stand in it and my friends will pull you up. Then you, Princess Alcina. I will fan him as you go, mi cara, Belefiore.” Sofia ran to the window after laying down her fan, and shortly thereafter Alcina did so. 

“No, I won’t leave you!” Belefiore whispered stoutly as Vincenzo motioned for her to go.

He only smiled his beautiful smile at her. “ I think we should fan him with this,” he said, producing a saber. In a flash, it was done, and Belefiore pressed her silk kerchief into Vincenzo’s hand. “My hero,” she whispered, before pressing her lips to his cheek. He helped her out the window, and the rope was tugged upward.

Belefiore did not like the look of her Vincenzo’s friends; they were rough looking, and scowling. She felt dread bubble up in her heart as they looked at each other, and after Belefiore was safely above ground, they released the rope, letting it go limp.

“No!” little Sofia cried out, as Belefiore tried to reach the well, only to be stopped by the taller of the men. 

“Now, now, my lady, tread carefully. You wouldn’t want to fall in and break your pretty little neck, hmm?” He laughed, and Belefiore jerked her arm from his loose grasp. “You  monsters!” she spat. “You can’t just leave him down there! Vincenzo! Vincenzo!”

“Listen here, Princess. If you know what’s good for you and your sisters here, you’ll tell your father we rescued you.” The shorter one sneered, and she put her head in her hands. What can I do? What on earth can I do? I’m the eldest, I have to protect them. But Vincenzo! Numb, the princess nodded, and her startled sisters did the same, mounting the horses the men had brought with them. There were only three, so Alcina and Sofia rode together, and Belefiore rode with the shorter of the two brutes.

It only took two days of hard riding to reach the palace, but to Belefiore they felt longer than the six months at her uncle’s.

The King made a big to-do over his daughters, and although he didn’t seem to like the two men anymore than his eldest daughter did, he had ( as Belefiore had suspected) said that whomever rescued his daughters would be given one of them in marriage. “Not yet,” Belefiore said, glancing at the men. “I need time.”

That night, she sat by her window, watching and waiting. You came for me before, mi caro, come for me now!”

The next morning dawned brightly, but Belefiore felt hollow. She had waited by the window, straining her eyes until well past midnight, but he had not come. What if he... No. No, he’s not dead. He’s not! She had tried to go to her father in private, to have him send men, but he had been in deep discussion with the ‘rescuers’ each time. Sighing, she dressed,  and taking a bit of sewing with her, made her way to the throne room, in hopes of speaking to her father in a lull. She was disheartened to see her two sisters sitting and sewing, and Vincenzo’s two traveling companions sitting very nearby. She had just set to stitching when a tall youth entered the room. He was dressed richly in expensive grey silk, covered with gold, green and red embroidery. Each stitch was familiar to the three princesses, and Belefiore most of all- they had sewn it themselves.

Gasping, Alcina and Sofia rose, crying, “ He was our deliverer! He was our deliverer!”

Belefiore ran towards Vincenzo, shouting, “This is my bridegroom!” One of the false rescuers grabbed her by the wrist, holding tightly. “Who is this peasant in disguise? I rescued the princesses myself, not he.” But Vincenzo brought forth Belefiore’s own kerchief, her token to her champion.

The king moved forward, ready to strike the traitorous fiend. Belefiore’s heart pounded as she struggled, her wrist clenched too tightly to break free. Vincenzo drew his sword, but before he or her father could do anything, Belefiore turned and thrust her sewing needle into the man’s heart, as one of her father’s soldiers seized the other deceiver. She then raced into the arms of her beloved.

Belefiore kissed him, before her father and the whole court, and he held her tightly. “Papa,” she said at length, “This is the man who rescued us, and by your own decree, my lawful betrothed.” 

Dumbfounded by the chaos in his court, the king gathered his wits and gave the union his blessing, at which point Vincenzo revealed his identity as the banished baker. The king could not go back on his word, however, and simply threw up his hands and watched his eldest daughter and her true love dance, and hold each other.

Perhaps, being the eldest daughter is not such an ill fate after all. Belefiore thought, smiling as she leaned against Vincenzo.

And perhaps it wasn’t, for in time they ruled together, and lived their lives as in love as ever any two were, happily for ever after.

The End