The Last Duchess I Served

The Duke Ferrara, such and old and miserably man. Among the common guards known as the devil incarnated. The Duke never liked to share, much like his ancestors before him. If a common guard such as me’self looked at the Duke’s bride, he would take an eye from the poor lad who had the audacity to betray him. The Duke’s jealousy knows no bounds. The painter who made the painting of the fair duchess even lost his life, although no one knows how, but some say they hear his screams when they walk the castle at night. The duchess should be thankful, cause now not even the Duke can touch her, and she may now finally rest easy with no heavy thoughts about her lovely smile. I must be wary of my words, however, cause if the Duke hears me telling you this, he’ll have me head on a pike within a fortnight. I feel bad for the new duchess to be, she knows nothing of the terror that go on behind these fortified walls, she knows nothing of what her father is now condemning her to. The peasants and the highborn only see the title of the marriage as a gain for the family, but they do not see the loss they will ultimately see. The title of Duchess of Ferrara is getting watered down with each passing bride to be entering these walls. One day this chaos may stop, since none of the brides have been able to give the Duke a suitable heir as of yet. Maybe one day our watch will end, and we, the guards, will finally rest easy knowing that no more crude and violent acts will happen upon the fair ladies of the county.