Death of Eleonora of Aragon
Eleonora of Aragon, the beloved Duchess of Ferrara, lies on her deathbed surrounded by her grieving husband Ercole I d'Este, a court physician, her lady-in-waiting, and a priest administering last rit
Setting
The private chamber of Eleonora of Aragon in the Ducal Palace of Ferrara, adorned with rich tapestries and frescoes depicting scenes from classical mythology. The room is spacious with high ceilings and large arched windows draped with heavy velvet curtains.
Characters
Eleonora of Aragon
primary
A frail woman in her early 40s, with pallid skin stretched over delicate bones, sunken cheeks, and dark circles under her eyes. Her once-lustrous auburn hair is now thin and streaked with gray, spread across the pillow in disarray. Her hands are skeletal, the veins prominent against translucent skin.
Ercole I d'Este
primary
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties with a well-groomed salt-and-pepper beard and deep-set, weary eyes. His face bears the lines of both authority and recent sorrow.
Court Physician
secondary
A middle-aged man with a gaunt face, deep-set eyes shadowed by exhaustion, and a neatly trimmed gray beard. His slender frame suggests a life of study rather than physical labor, with long fingers accustomed to the delicate work of medical examination. A faint scent of medicinal herbs clings to his person.
Lady-in-waiting
secondary
A young woman in her early twenties, slender and graceful with delicate features. Her fair complexion is flushed from weeping, and her light brown hair is neatly braided and pinned beneath a modest veil. Her hands are clasped tightly together, trembling slightly with emotion.
Priest
secondary
A middle-aged man with a gaunt face and deep-set, compassionate eyes, his thinning gray hair neatly tonsured in the clerical fashion. His hands are slightly calloused from years of prayer beads yet move with deliberate grace during rituals.
Dialog
Eleonora of Aragon
Your Grace... I commend our children... to your care... as the vine to the gardener. May they grow strong... 'in fide et opere'... in faith and deed.
Ercole I d'Este
By the blood of Christ, we swear it. Every stone of Ferrara shall bear witness to your legacy, my lioness.
Court Physician
If it please Your Graces... the humoral imbalance... that is to say, the vital spirits wane like the evening tide upon the Adriatic.
Priest
In hoc extremis, Domina... Let us prepare your soul as a bride awaits the bridegroom. 'Cor mundum crea in me, Deus...'
Eleonora of Aragon
The figs... remember to send the golden figs to Naples... the treaty depends...
Ercole I d'Este
Peace, my heart. Let Bologna wait, let Venice scheme - our house stands firm.
Priest
The heavenly court awaits, my child. See how the martyrs hold open the pearly gates...