Of the feelings of camaraderie between women of pleasure.

Aquafina bowed deeply to the Lady Ouiser and the assembled company, who looked on her with admiration and regard.

‘My gentle companions! This story came to me directly from a gentleman who called upon me last year. For, he sojourned¹ some years among the Spanish in America in the place called Cuba. It was there that he met the eminent lady of this relation. As St John has written, the one who saw this happen has spoken of it², so that you also may believe. What she said is true, and she knows that she speaks the truth.’

‘If your parents are from the north of Italy, and this gentleman was in the service of the Spanish crown, then he would be, according to our realms, an enemy?’ Boulevardier then said.

‘I never said he himself worked for the Spanish,’ Lady Aquafina replied.

‘Well, this is certainly troublesome to say the least,’ Messer Cayenne then said. ‘The Spanish naturally are everywhere these days. I can’t cross the street back home without seeing piccadilly lace or hearing Mille regretz³, a song as equally distressing to hear as “Dance Monkey”.’

‘Allow Lady Aquafina to continue, gentlemen,’ Lady Ouiser said.

Lady Aquafina inclined her head and curtsied.

America, America! God shed His grace on Thee! And especially the place that Ponce de León calls Florida⁴, for in that beautiful land of hills and dales—of sloping mountains and babbling brooks full of temperate air and gentle creatures—that land, dear friends, named in consequence of the Resurrection of Our Lord and Savior Christ, this very true and factual tale commenced. And it happened to a lady named Zola.

The beautiful and eminent lady Zola was of a people named ‘of the straits’ in this Indies, but I do not know where precisely she was born, or what her family was like, or if she is of our Catholic faith. I do know, however, that she was very beautiful, lithe, and of such goodly stuff that all sorts of men found her charming, ineffably witty, and kind. In any case, I am told ‘the straits’ are not in Florida, that paradise wherein my story takes place, but I have read from Master Anthony Pigafetta⁵ that there is a river in the west, past the Isles of the Blessed, where there are a thousand islands, and where, some say, the griddle of Saint Lawrence⁶ is buried, and that this is where Zola was born.

As soon as Zola attained the flower of womanhood, she did not confine herself to a particular suitor, although there were indeed many fine men she would have easily had as husband. Zola, being intelligent and upright like our good St Catherine of Alexandria⁷, put her wits to good use and worked for her bread. She worked in the place of her upbringing: the place, as I have said, called ‘of the straits’.

And the place, dear companions, wherein she danced was called Hooters.

I have not read much of this place, and the gentleman friend who told me the tale was loath to mention it⁸, so I must take it as a place of renown and favor among Zola’s people. I am told that in the Indies the men retire to places like these to drink and carouse and debate the philosophies of their gods. Women are scarcely seen there save the ones set to dancing and serving their elders. Zola was one of these.

Of the fare seen at ‘Hooters’, I know little, but the Master of Joinville has said the Indians eat chicken as we do, and in particular relish the wings, which they douse in hot pepper, fat, tobacco, manioc and maize⁹, and eat with their hands.

‘Forgive me, my dear Lady,’ said Xerox. ‘But I take to mean that when you say the Master of Joinville, you surely mean Jean of Joinville¹⁰, who lived in the time of His Majesty St Louis. Unless he embarked on a voyage like St Brendan¹¹, I do not believe he ever set food in the Indies nor wrote of it.’

‘You don’t know that,’ replied Abraham of Babka. ‘Who knows? St Louis could be in America right this moment.’

‘Let the girl tell her story,’ Canva then said.

Aquafina then went on.

It was at this ‘Hooters’ that Zola met a countrywoman. Her name is of little import to the story but what you must know is that she was of a lesser countenance as Zola, and the lady pitied her so. While serving the elders there, they became friends, read and sewed together, and went for long walks in the fields, greeting all whom they met with loving glances and kind regards.

It so happened that Zola’s companion, whom I shall call Jeannette L’Estrange, was affianced¹² to a man of low rank, whom I shall call Garret de Cru. This man, who was a melancholic humour¹³, is of considerable import to the story, for like any man afflicted with unbalanced humours, his malady necessarily upset the humours of his other companions.

‘My compatriots in physic¹⁴ believe it a consequence of self-abuse,’ said Dr Scholl.

‘Aren’t you some sort of foot doctor?’ said Fr Bunion. ‘I mean, that is what you told us when your caravan joined ours.’

‘Feet are an area of my expertise, yes. Sometimes, gentlemen pay me to fashion a likeness of those of their mistresses and wives. But this does not mean I derive a particular interest in podiatric physic¹⁵.’

‘Was this Garret de Cru fond of women’s feet, dear Aquafina?’ Abraham of Babka then asked Aquafina, knowing of course another deviation was at hand.

‘Yes, and I thank the kind rabbi for asking,’ replied Aquafina.

As Holy Mother Church had yet to plant her verdant stake in the soft and fertile American soil, Jeanette and Garrett knew one another carnally with no consequence. Of little consequence also was the fact that both Zola and Jeannette were dancers of the scandalous chaconne¹⁶, which was banned here not a summer ago. I am told Zola and her companion wore nary a stitch of clothing while doing so, something I am liable to believe as the same Master Jean of Joinville records that the Indies are hot, humid and of a most intemperate clime.

One evening, Garret suggested that he, Jeannette and the lady Zola repair to Florida¹⁷, for it was hoped he would contract marriage there among a good Franciscan at a place called Boca Ratón¹⁸—

‘I know not whether the Indies possess a Boca Ratón,’ said Abraham of Babka, ‘but I am certain that, should he find it, the Franciscans will be sorely outnumbered.’

Persiflage raised his hand. ‘Does this “Hooters” apply a discount for veterans taking victual¹⁹ there?’

Aquafina smiled at the Swiss soldier and went on.

The gentlemen make it terribly hard for me to continue my tale. But I shall anyway.

It is distressing enough to leave the beloved country of one’s people in a canoe to leave for parts unknown. But Zola knew Florida like the back of her hand, and this Boca Ratón, too, and assented to the journey, in spite of the rather dispiriting company of Garret, and then of Jeannette L’Estrange, whom Zola found to be rather giddy and anxious for the wrong reasons.

Joining them at the landing was a Moor with the name Zed—

‘I know him! He was of my retinue²⁰ but a year ago!’ Calamondin then cut in. ‘Pray tell, Lady Aquafina—did he ask you to exchange handkerchiefs with a woman named Bassamine of Ravenna?’

‘No, your Highness,’ replied Aquafina.

This Moor, of an imposing and bold character and composition, was utterly unsettling to Zola. And with good reason: he was quiet, sullen, able-handed and of a demeanour that was less than inviting. One has experience with travelers of this ilk. I cannot say much there, but the best one can do is to at least commend them to the Holy Virgin that they don’t kill everyone aboard your vessel. Sometimes food helps, and sometimes some smelling-salts, for they might resent water passage, or if they are on the road, the heat, dust and insects thereof.

Anyway, this Moor Zed called himself Roderick. He said he was from Bourges. Oddly enough, Garret said he was his ‘roommate’, a neologism²¹ I take to mean that they were bedfellows. But this makes no sense to me. The Indies cannot possibly so temperate as to retain houses wherein beds of our kind are erected, nor should men have to make their beds together. The Indians of Mexico are said to sleep on mats on the ground, and laughed at our holy friars for making their beds on straw pallets²².

In any case, as you will shortly see, Zed’s maleficence²³ had less to do with his Moorish complexion and even less with his bedding arrangements. And Zola, being as wise, crafty and as full-hearted as Judith, knew of the Holofernes²⁴ who stood in her midst.

But no matter—for now Zola and her companions were on the road, and went to the place called Florida. Oh dear companions, imagine what they saw on the road! High mountains covered with snow, swift rivers of cool water, berries and fruits as grand as any orchard, and kind and loving animals with which to nuzzle all the day long. And everywhere they went down the great river Oprah, they met with people who greeted them with smiles.

But behold what awaited them upon arriving in Florida. They went to an inn, kept by disagreeable and mendacious hosts. Garret was utterly miserable for some odd reason, and Roderick fearsomely quiet for reasons all his own. Oh, Zola! If only I could divine the secrets in your heart at that fateful hour!

Zola and Jeannette agreed that they would dance there. It is the custom of the Indies that gentlemen of all ranks proffer considerations²⁵ for ladies who dance for them. The ladies do not have to be entirely naked, and furthermore, a woman can attain a small fortune nightly in doing so, without ever having to suffer the degradation of being touched by the same gentlemen. In this way, a woman of the Indies may barter her own dowry²⁶ without negating her virginity or her honor.

And the ladies, though scarcely known to one another, truly enjoyed one another’s company, such that Zola, being of such tremendous wit and conceit, said: ‘Behold, Jeanette, we enjoy the camaraderie beholden to two women of pleasure.’

While Florida was beautiful to behold, the patrons were of such Christian poverty that they could not proffer more than their own meagre livings. After a few nights of dancing the galliard, the sarabande²⁷ and the chaconne, and seeing that Jeannette unable to attire herself honorably as a woman of the Indies, she made the determination that somehow Jeannette’s livings were being absented of her, and that Zola was the next intended person for this arrangement.

This troubled Zola greatly, and in her heart, she cried out to the Lord: ‘Lord, deliver me from this unfortunate situation!’

Then, my dear companions, this happened. Zola made to inquire of Garret de Cru and the Moor Roderick of Jeannette’s winnings. Her indagation²⁸ was met with frank disregard. Fallen was the face of Zola the Upright. Pulling her into a chamber of that incommodious inn²⁹, Jeannette inclined to her friend and said:

‘Zola, I have been pressed into disgrace with a gentleman, and he has paid me only one hundred maravedís³⁰ for the amours he has foolishly asked me to offer him.’

Then Zola, being of a most reserved and cautious character then said: ‘My dear companion, I beg of you to advertise at a higher rate. For your charms are far more worthy than one hundred maravedis, and as we are in Florida, it would be better that the price sought for it be a hundred thousand solidi.’

Then Persiflage said: ‘Was she selling some sort of jewelry? They trade necklaces of beads of various kinds among the Indies, don’t they?’

‘If they are,’ replied Boulevardier, ‘I hope they are at least Venetian glass bead necklaces. The ones the Portuguese sell are made of sand-glass that is ugly and breaks easily.’

It then fell to Zola, like St Cecilia at the foot of the altar on her wedding day³¹, that something of grave consequence was about to occur, and that furthermore, those friends whom she thought we could trust were not as trustworthy as first assumed.

The first person on which her suspicions naturally fell was the sickly and melancholic Garret de Cru. His disposition was saturnine³², and the blood in him of such leaden quality that he was oft flummoxed by the incalculable misfortunes then circling him. Zola thought he was as deadweight to their gay ship. Jeannette was properly of another temperament—that of windy, temperamental phlegm, for she was like a poodle that jumps this way and that, barking at every person and thing it finds distressing. And Roderick! Oh my dear companions, that man was as choleric as the most tyrannical fiend one can imagine. For indeed, he was of such frightening anger that, in the time they were all in that inn, Zola and Jeannette were exposed to his rages, temper-tantrums and airy words that surely would have shocked anyone to hear them.

Zola saw that Jeannette was on considerably more familiar terms with Roderick than she first assumed. While in that inn, Jeannette would retire to his quarters and spend the night with him, and certain nights in Garret de Cru’s. Sometimes they went in together, and that was even more strange to behold.

‘Was there no constable in which to complain to?’ Oura then said.

‘None, my dear shepherdess,’ Aquafina replied. ‘Jeannette L’Estrange herself never complained of the arrangement, but rather looked pleased with herself to entertain two gentlemen in one bed.’

‘And Zola—did she entertain anyone of her liking in that inn?’ asked Persiflage.

I will tell you what happened. Zola, of course, was wiser than any woman in the Indies at that time. She never let a man do or say anything to her that would compromise her womanhood or her honor. And she made them pay all the same and was furthermore wise with her winnings. But Jeannette was not, and neither was Garrett. Some have said that Garrett was a courtesan of his own making, and I have heard that among some people of the Indies men have dowries where they are made to dance naked or nearly so. Well and good I call it, for there are some men who are truly good dancers. But among Zola’s people, and with Garrett being utterly loath to the sight of woman, this was rather strange.

But I do not wish to delay the completion of our day, as the light fades and I have spoken too long.

By this time Zola was convinced Roderick was Jeannette’s procurer³³, and that they were in Florida for no honorable purpose whatsoever. Furthermore Garrett’s melancholic temperament induced her to believe that Garrett was similarly bereft of benefits of his own, and that these were going to Roderick. Zola prepared to abandon them and the prospect altogether and return to ‘the straits’, but was withheld at various seasons, for reasons that are not altogether clear to me.

This is how it all came to an end. There came a villain to see Jeannette dance, and this madman, not finding her dancing to his liking, attempted to abduct her like a Sabine³⁴. Roderick went to defend her, wounded a bystander in the affray³⁵ (which everyone in the street saw), and Garrett de Cru was so harried by the event that he ascended to the parapet of the inn and leapt headlong from it.

‘Dear God!’ cried Lunesta. ‘My dear Aquafina, the last time you told me this story you said your friend said he threatened to leap headlong from the parapet.’

Aquafina sighed and nodded. ‘My gentleman friend has retracted certain elements of the story so as not offend hearing. But I tell you what he has told me.’

Zola then inquired of her friend: ‘Jeannette, why have you betrayed my trust, and placed your beloved in danger? For lo, there he lies, wounded but alive—thank God!—while you and Roderick look on as if nothing ill ever occurred.’

And meanwhile, the villain had escaped into the night. And the person injured was laid low for a year and a day³⁶, such that their life has never been the same since.

When Zola went to look after Garrett, he savaged Jeannette and said she was naught but an interloper, unwanted friend, and scheming confidante of the vile Roderick, who by this time had been identified by the scandalized souls who witnessed these things. He broke his promise to wed Jeannette, and they never found Boca Ratón, or the fabled fountain of Financial Prudence said to exist there.

Zola took leave of Florida with Garrett. Contrite of heart, she returned to her people, who were more than glad to see her return. Zola’s people offered the dance of the calumet³⁷, and he found peace. Garrett he did not remain with Zola, but rather his own people, and when he recovered, I believe he took up with a man and married him.

‘And Roderick?’ asked Arbonne of Olay.

Divine Justice found him soon, for he continued to offend Heaven in corrupting the youth of the Indies, procuring ladies for impure ends, and making sport of travelers, persons afflicted with maladies and other poor souls. He met an ignominious death at Santo Domingo³⁸, as I heard from my gentleman friend, for, as unerring as the divine thunderbolt is, it is rare to behold plainly.

But my friend saw it. Roderick was in that city doing his dirty deeds once more in full sight of the governor and the nobles of that town, when he sauntered out in to a cay to fish³⁹. The Lord found him there and dispatched him with a bolt from the blue. It was so brilliant several persons were blinded temporarily, and the whole city quaked in fear. A mass to atone for this man’s sins was heard and the body dumped at sea, as no Christian graveyard would have him. It was later discovered that the Holy Office⁴⁰ had placed him under interdict⁴¹ for a number of outrageous offences acted out upon Indians in Mexico.

Thus, my dear companions, I make an end to this, the last story of this first day. We have heard today of people who, for the sake of pleasure alone, would wreck their whole lives with impostures so laughably ridiculous and so disagreeably bold. But I ask you: which of your friends betrays your kind heart with the imposture of flattering words, or of kind glances, or of conversation? If an impostor stood in your midst, would you not see to it his fraud be dealt with? Would you tolerate this in your own house?

The world would be much better off if people would stop believing that they need to say, think and act beyond reason all for the simple pleasure of making a friend. And perhaps we would not suffer so much for allowing these depraved people to do these things.

Having said all this, Aquafina bowed to Ouiser, and took her seat.