Francesca (18 page)

Finally, to her relief, the ceremony was completed. Bride and groom rose from the gilded prie-dieu with their red velvet kneelers. The cathedral bells began to ring out a joyful peal, to be joined by the few churches in the town and the nearby vicinity. The bishop had unwrapped their two hands after the blessing, and now Rafaello led Francesca back down the aisle. He had not yet spoken a word to her, and she had no intention of speaking to him until he did so.

They descended the steps of the cathedral to where the troupe of guardsmen waited with their horses. He mounted his own animal, leaving the surprised captain of the guard to lift Francesca back onto her white palfrey. She thanked him softly, and the captain flushed shyly. Their horses moved off surrounded by their ceremonial guard, which wended its way through the town and the deliriously happy crowds, who called out their good wishes to the young man about to become their new duke and his bride. Francesca could not help but smile and wave her acknowledgment in return.

Now and again the crowds pressed them so closely they were stopped momentarily in their passage. Several small children pressed flowers upon Francesca, their small grubby hands touching hers. She smiled at them, patted their heads, and blew kisses to them, which set the crowds about her to cheering louder. It seemed to her that there were more people in the streets now than there had been earlier. They filled the road right up to the castle’s drawbridge, where their horses finally came to a stop.

Rafaello dismounted, leaving the captain of the guard to once again help Francesca from her animal. She was beginning to be angry. Why was he being so damned rude to her? But then he was offering her his hand to lead her inside to the Great Hall, where the wedding guests were now crowding about, waiting for the bride and bridegroom to come and begin the feast. Francesca heard a squeal of delight, and turned to be embraced by her old friend, Louisa di Genoa, now married to Rafaello’s best friend, Valiant.

“Francesca! Ohh, I am so glad you are back and safe!” Louisa cried happily.

The bride stepped back apace. “Look at you, Louisa!” she exclaimed, staring at her friend’s enormous belly. “When is the child due?”

“Any minute,” Louisa said laughing. “Valiant wanted his heir born on his estates at Sponda di Fiume, but I refused to leave the ducal castle until you were back and wed. Now I can’t go until the child is born, but that is all right, since I want you to be his godmother. Will you? Oh, please say you will!”

“Of course,” Francesca replied. “I am honored that you would ask me.”

“You will introduce me to your friend, Francesca,” Orianna Pietro d’Angelo said, coming up to stand next to her daughter.

“
Madre
, this is Louisa Maria di Genoa. She is married to my husband’s best friend, Valiant. That is why Rafaello chose me. He would not take the maiden his dearest companion had fallen in love with, and the French girl was a perfect bitch. He had no other choice but me,” Francesca told her mother bluntly. “So be careful when you boast on my marriage once you have returned to Florence. Rafaello did not choose me for my beauty or my wealth or even my charm. He had no other choice.”

Orianna flushed, embarrassed at her daughter’s words. “Francesca!” was all she could think of to say.

“Mama is very proud of this marriage I have made, Louisa,” the bride continued.

“You see, when my older sister was widowed she ran off with a very unsuitable man, a Turk. We no longer speak of Bianca. Do we,
Madre
? So my marriage today to Duke Titus’s son is quite a coup for her. Isn’t it, now,
Madre
?”

“Do not be cruel, Francesca,” Orianna replied, startled by her daughter’s boldness. “It does not suit you at all, and especially on such a happy day.”

“Happy for whom?” Francesca persisted. “Have you seen Rafaello smile once yet?”

“Oh, he is just nervous,” Louisa said cheerfully. “You should have seen Valiant on our wedding day, with my papa looking so sternly at him and threatening him with all manner of punishment if he made me the least bit unhappy.” She laughed at the memory.

“You hope for a son, of course,” Orianna said, attempting to add to the change of subject. “Marco was easy to birth. All my sons were. It was the girls who gave me difficulty,” the older woman said. “Even when I had the twins. There was Luca born before I barely had time to reach the birthing chamber, but his sister, Lucianna? It was hours before she finally came, but she has proven the most obedient of all my daughters.”

“We’ll see what happens when you attempt to wed her off,
Madre
,” Francesca said with a knowing chuckle.

Orianna paled slightly, but then recovering, said, “Lucianna is too young yet to even consider marrying off. It is to be hoped in a few years, when she is ready, any memories she may have of you and the other one will have gone from her head.”

Rafaello was suddenly by her side. He led her to the high board, seating her between himself and his father.

Duke Titus greeted her warmly, saying, “Did you enjoy your winter in the forest, my dear?” His eyes were twinkling at her.

Francesca laughed. “Actually I did,” she admitted. “Alonza was very good to me, my lord. Did she know who I was?”

He chortled, but then said, “No, she did not. All she was told was that you were of importance to us and to keep you safe until spring, when I would tell her when to bring you to the castle. She is here in the hall today with her family to help us celebrate your marriage to my son. I have known Alonza for many a year. I knew I could entrust her with your safety. I am sorry you felt it necessary to run away, Francesca. If your parents’ decision upset you, you might have come to me. Whatever happens in the future, remember that Titus Cesare is your friend. I will help you solve your problems, for I knew the moment I set eyes upon you that you were the one for Rafaello.”

“You are kind, my lord,” Francesca answered him, “but we both know Rafaello chose me to be his wife because Louisa was obviously in love with Valiant, and the du Barry girl was a shrew. I was all he had left.”

“You are wrong, my dear,” her father-in-law told her, “but I will allow you and Rafaello to discover the error of your ways,” he chuckled. “Old men have sharper eyes than do the young.” He patted her hand, then said, “Ah, I see Alonza did not spare you any hard work, did she? No matter, a few months and those beautiful hands will heal.”

“I found I did not mind the work,” Francesca admitted to him. “For the first time in all of my life I felt useful and very happy.”

The duke nodded, smiling. “Having a purpose in life other than one’s self will do that to a person,” he told her. “Now, I know you will make Terreno Boscoso a fine
duchessa
, Francesca. There is much to be done.”

“Will you guide me, my lord?” she asked shyly.

“Gladly!” he answered her. “Gladly!”

A fine feast was served to all in the hall. Roasted boar, fish from the waters of the forest streams and lakes, venison, stuffed geese, roasted ducks, and capons. There were salads with lettuces and new peas; pastas in many shapes with olive oil, black olives, and the fresh grated Parmesan that was made in a town just outside of Terreno Boscoso. Within the town, bread, meat, pasta, wine, and ale were offered to every citizen. There were marzipan sweets for everyone, and in the hall cakes soaked in wine with fresh strawberries and fresh cream. The duke did not stint his guests, and served them only the finest wines from his own cellars and vineyards. Those who preferred ale could fill their mugs from the casks scattered about the hall.

There was a musicians’ gallery above the entry to the hall, and soft music was played throughout the meal. The men got up and danced for the entertainment of everyone. And while they were thus engaged, Francesca and several women quietly departed the hall. Led by Terza, the bride was taken not back to her maiden chamber, but to the apartment she would now share with her new husband. Once there Francesca sent all of them but Terza away. She was tired, and not in the mood for the usual loud and slightly vulgar merriment that could be part of a bride’s bedding.

Orianna protested. “I must tell you what to expect from your bridegroom,” she said to her daughter.

“
Madre
, I think I should prefer to have my husband instruct me in these matters,” Francesca answered.

Orianna would have protested further, but she saw immediately that her daughter’s speech had found favor with several of the older noblewomen of the court who had accompanied them. They nodded in agreement, and one of them said aloud, “The young
duchessa
shows great wisdom in her decision.” Then the women all curtsied to Francesca and backed from the bedchamber. Orianna had no choice but to kiss her daughter and bid her happiness before joining them and departing the apartment.

“That old biddy was the chancellor’s wife. She’ll be an important ally to have here at court,” Terza said as she and Roza undressed Francesca.

When the bride was naked she bathed in a basin of lightly scented warm water, and then clothed herself in a clean light silk chemise. Terza took the pins and jeweled décor from Francesca’s beautiful hair. She brushed the girl’s tresses, asking, “Will you leave it loose, or will you have me braid it?”

“Leave it loose,” Francesca said.

They helped her into the large bridal bed, and then both servants bid their mistress good night. Terza had made certain there was a nice fire in the little fireplace, for though it was June the evening was still chilly. They had drawn the curtains for privacy’s sake.

Francesca lay quietly in the big bed. She could hear the faint murmur of sound from the hall below. Outside a nightingale began to sing. But her bridegroom did not come. She tried hard to remain awake, but she could not. Sleep overtook her, and her heavy eyelids closed. She attempted to force them open, but they only closed again. Whatever fault she had committed that had kept Rafaello silent this day would surely be compounded by his finding her asleep on their wedding night instead of waiting for him. But, damn him, it had to be at least an hour since she had left the hall. If he found the company of his guests and the wine more inviting than his bride, then it served him right if she sought her rest. Francesca gave herself up to sleep.

Chapter 9

S
he awoke suddenly, realizing as she did that there was someone else within her bedchamber. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and darkness surrounded her. But there was someone here. Was it Rafaello? Would he continue to remain silent as he had this past day? “Who is here?” she asked in a slightly shaky voice.

The curtain from one of the windows moved and the shadow of a large man revealed itself. “Cara, my love,” the deep rough voice said.

Her heart almost exploded within her chest. “No! It cannot be you! It cannot!”

“Have you forgotten me so quickly, then, my love?” he murmured as he came and sat upon the bed.

“
Carlo! Carlo!
Is it really you?” she half whispered. She reached out to him.

“It is me, my love,” he told her. “Surely you didn’t believe I could desert you.”

“You cannot be here!” she told him, sitting up in her bed. “I am a married woman. Wed this day to Duke Titus’s son, Rafaello. You must go! Go quickly! Even now I am awaiting my bridegroom.”

“He is drunk in his father’s hall, my love,” Carlo said. “He will not come to you.”

“But I am his wife, no matter,” Francesca said, and she began to cry. “Why did you not come this morning, before the guardsmen came and brought me to the castle? If you had come then I should have gone with you, no matter what. But you did not come. When they came to get me I was afraid. I thought surely Rafaello was to wed another. I had no idea the old duke had known all along where I was. That I was still meant to be his son’s bride.” She gave a little sob. “If only you had come first,” she repeated.

“Does he want you as I want you?” Carlo demanded of her. “If he did he would already be here, so now I must do what he has not.” He pulled her up from the bed, his arms wrapping about her as he bent to kiss her.

At first Francesca melted into his arms, her lips eagerly accepting his passionate kiss.
Yes!
This was what she wanted. The man she loved and who loved her. Carlo. Her beloved huntsman. His kiss deepened. Her response equaled his. And then the reality of her situation slammed into her. With a little cry she pushed him away. “No!” she said in a shaking voice. “No!”

“My love . . .” he began, reaching for her again.

She ducked away from him, scooting to put her marriage bed between them. “I should not have allowed you to kiss me now,” she began.

“I love you,” he told her.

“I know,” Francesca answered him, “and I love you. But I will not sully the vows I took today in the cathedral to be a good and faithful wife to Rafaello Cesare. Tomorrow we shall again go to the cathedral, where Duke Titus will turn over his authority to my husband. The bishop will then make Rafaello the new Duke of Terreno Boscoso, and I, as his wife, will be designated the new
duchessa
. I will not soil the honor of the Cesare or the Pietro d’Angelo families by any dishonest behavior. The time for us is past, Carlo.”

“You are sending me away?” he said softly.

“Reluctantly, but aye,” Francesca answered him.

“Can you really live without love,
cara mia
?” he queried her closely.

“If I must, I will,” she told him. “It would seem I am my mother’s daughter after all,” Francesca said with a wry smile. “She left the man she loved in Venice and made the marriage to my father that her parents wished her to make. Hopefully Rafaello and I will become fond of one another as she and my father have. I will bear my husband’s children without complaint, as she did hers. I will teach my offspring honor and respect as my mother taught me.” Reaching out she put a hand on his arm. “My mother never forgot the man she loved in Venice. I will always love you, my beloved huntsman. Now go before we are discovered. I cannot allow my reputation to be challenged, and if you were caught here they would kill you without hesitation.”

“Kiss me farewell at least, Cara,” he said, but she shook her head.

“Go,” she said, turning her back on him. Then she waited wordlessly until she sensed he was gone, and, turning, saw she was again alone. Francesca climbed back into her bed, where she lay restlessly for several hours before finally falling asleep once again.

She felt drained of all emotion and could not even cry, with the mixture of anger and frustration that she was feeling that she must send away the man she loved while the man she had married but several hours back could not be bothered to come to her bed.

Terza woke her an hour after the dawn had broken. Puzzled, she looked at the unsullied bridal bed, as neat as it had been the night before but for the side where her young mistress had obviously slept undisturbed.

“No, he did not come,” Francesca answered her servant’s unspoken question. “He obviously remained in the hall, drinking himself into oblivion. Keep my mother away from me, if you can, for she will certainly have questions that any mother would ask her daughter the morning after her wedding. What can I possibly say to her that will not set her into a fury, should she learn I spent my wedding night alone?”

“Madre di Dios!”
Terza groaned. “You are correct.”

“And I cannot have my father-in-law distressed by his son’s lack of action,” Francesca said. “He has been so good to me and so patient with my behavior.”

Terza nodded. “’Tis true. He is a kind man, Duke Titus.” Then she clapped her hand to her mouth. “The bedsheet! They will want to fly the bedsheet to prove that your husband did his duty.”

“We’ll strip the bed and burn the sheet in the hearth. I will tell them I consider such a thing undignified. Certainly Rafaello will not disagree with my attempt to hide his neglect of me, and the old duke will go along for my sake,” Francesca said.

Before even little Roza arrived with her mistress’s breakfast tray, Terza and Francesca tore the sheet from the bed and saw it devoured by the flames of the newly revived fire in the hearth. Rafaello Cesare’s lapse was now their secret. The bride bathed quickly in a basin and began to dress for the ceremony at the cathedral, which would be held in late morning. She ate her meal in her chemise before being dressed. The gown she would wear to be crowned the new
duchessa
of Terreno Boscoso was the sea blue and gold colors of the duchy flag. The underskirt that showed between the two panels of the divided overskirt was cloth of gold. The rest of the gown was sea blue. The low square neckline was heavily embroidered with gold, diamonds, and pearls, as was the hem of the skirt. The sleeves were close-fitted to the wrists but had deep turned-back cuffs with embroidered edges.

“You must now wear your hair in a more elegant style, as it is assumed you are no longer a maid,” Terza said softly to her mistress. Then she brushed out the long red-gold hair and affixed it into a chignon that sat low on her mistress’s neck.

Francesca stared into the mirror. She suddenly looked older. And seductive, she thought. “I like it,” she said.

“We’ll just put this jeweled band on your head, and a wisp of veiling,” Terza suggested, and her mistress nodded in agreement.

Roza was giddy with excitement as she held open Francesca’s jewel chest for her mistress. The gemstones sparkled in the morning sunlight coming through the bedchamber windows.

“What would you choose?” Francesca asked the girl.

After a moment of initial surprise Roza immediately drew out a pair of sapphire and gold ear bobs. When Francesca nodded, the girl affixed them in her mistress’s ears.

“What else?” Francesca said.

“Pearls,” Roza replied. “The bodice of the gown is heavily decorated, my lady. The elegance of a long strand of pearls is more than enough.”

“Indeed, girl. You have a good eye for this,” Francesca approved, ducking her head slightly as Roza dropped the long creamy length of pearls over her lady’s head.

Terza nodded her own approval, and Roza beamed proudly. She very much wanted to serve her new
duchessa
the best she could. Being chosen by Terza to help the upper servant with her mistress had been quite a coup for the younger woman.

Francesca slipped her feet into a pair of deep blue sollerets that had been made in Florence for her. The leather was soft and comfortable on her feet. She stood reaching out into the still-open jewel case for several rings she slid onto her fingers. Holding out her fingers, she looked and was satisfied. Even after a day, the cream Terza rubbed into her hands seemed to be helping to ease the roughness.

Roza ran to answer a knock on the outer apartment door. They heard her say, “Tell him that she is ready and will meet him in the courtyard.” Then she hurried back to tell her mistress, “Your noble husband sent his serving man to see if you were ready.”

“Of course,” Francesca said as she walked from her apartment with Terza and Roza in her wake. The arrogant dog, she thought, irritated. He could not be bothered to come himself. Probably still suffering from the excesses of his overindulgence. She walked proudly down the stairs leading to the courtyard and stepped out into the morning. Terza handed her a pair of gold-colored leather gloves when she had been helped up onto her mount. Francesca glanced about and saw her husband.

Rafaello did not look like a man who had spent the night drinking. Indeed he looked quite healthy. His color was good. His hands did not shake. He nodded curtly at her in greeting. Francesca nodded back. He was garbed in blue and gold, as she was.

Duke Titus came from the castle, and, mounting his horse, put himself between them. “Good morning, my children!” he said cheerfully. “I am happy to finally see this day come when I may lay down my duties, and you, my son, may take on a burden more suited to younger, stronger shoulders. And you will have your good wife by your side, which is a true blessing, and now we have the hope of heirs as well.”

“I am honored that you would entrust me with even the small responsibility of being the
duchessa
of Terreno Boscoso,” Francesca said before her husband might speak. “And with God’s own blessing we will give you grandchildren all in good time, my lord.”

She turned her head as she spoke to smile sweetly at Rafaello. “Is that not so, my lord?”

He is a worthy opponent, Francesca thought, as her bridegroom nodded at his father.

“In time, Father,” he said, “it is hoped we will be blessed with children.”

“Especially considering my mother’s fertility,” Francesca added. The wily dog must certainly do his duty by her tonight. If he avoided her bedchamber much longer, the whole castle would know, and they would talk. She had sent the man she loved away so she would not compromise her new family’s good name. Her husband would get children on her if for no other reason than he did not want to disappoint his sire.

Francesca almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of the situation. She was young, beautiful, and came with a more-than-plump dower portion. The serving girl she had been was desperately desired by a simple hunter, yet the
duchessa
she was about to become was obviously not desired by her husband. What on earth was the matter with him, and why would he not speak to her? Certainly tonight he would rectify his omission of last night.

They rode again through the cheering crowds in the small town and ascended the steps to the cathedral once again. Inside Titus Cesare abdicated his ducal crown in favor of his son, Rafaello Titus. The red-gold headband was moved from the older man’s snow-white head to the dark head of his only child. Prayers of thanks were given for the peaceful and prosperous reign of Duke Titus. Prayers of hope were offered that Duke Rafaello’s reign would be as auspicious and pacific. And then Francesca was crowned as Rafaello’s wife, his
duchessa
. Prayers were offered for her fertility that the house of Cesare would prosper and continue.

Francesca appeared demure and dignified as the old bishop with shaking hands set the smaller crown upon her veiled head. She rose and, turning with her husband, faced the crowded cathedral. Both of them were smiling upon their guests and subjects.

“
Long live the duke! Long live the
duchessa
!”
The cries rang out first inside, and then as they came outside again to stand at the top of the cathedral steps, the shouts and good wishes echoed from all the people crowded into the square. Without even being instructed to do so Francesca raised her hand and acknowledged the cheers with a wave of her elegant gloved hand. There was applause now along with the cheers.