Francesca (29 page)

Before Rafaello might answer, Francesca spoke up for herself. “No, I will not go south. I will remain here by my husband’s side, good folk. It is my duty as your
duchessa
, and I cannot do otherwise. We will be secure in the castle until we can solve this unhappy situation, but your homes and shops provide little protection against a marauding army. You must do as my husband says and go until it is safe once again to return.”

They cheered her wildly, and a few voices were heard saying, “If the
duchessa
doesn’t go, then we won’t either!”

“But you must protect your families,” Francesca said. “Your loyalty to us is wonderful, but I know my husband agrees with me.”

“For my sake, for Terreno Boscoso’s sake,” Rafaello told the people gathered below them, “you must do what you believe best for yourselves. But be warned that those soldiers in the employ of the French are not known for their mercy. These men will come no farther than the town itself. Once they hold it, they hold all of my duchy. We will either drive the French back or we will be forced to yield to them. If that happens I cannot protect you. They will steal what they can from your houses and your shops. Your wives and your daughters will not be safe from rapine. I beg you to consider my words seriously. Go now while you have the chance, my good folk. I will never question your loyalty in this matter, but my heart would break if any of you suffered on my account.”

Then the duke and his wife turned their horses to return to the castle. Behind them they heard a cacophony of voices arise as the townsfolk began to loudly and publicly discuss what they had just been told. Rafaello knew that some of them would go, but some would remain to take their chances with the possible French occupation and protect their homes and shops. Most would send their women and children to safety. He understood the men, but the duke knew he would be extremely unhappy if the women and children suffered on account of his decision.

The castle was well fortified to withstand a siege, although never in its history had it been forced to do so. There were wells for water within its walls. They had food. They had men-at-arms to guard them. The drawbridge was now drawn up permanently. When they had done so it made a great creaking noise, for it had been years since it had been raised. They could do nothing but wait.

Francesca had sent a long letter to her parents, telling them of the current situation and asking that they bring the French demands and incursion to the attention of Lorenzo di Medici. She had asked them to shelter her messenger, a young boy who had been so proud to be given his
duchessa
’s trust. She explained to her mother that she did not feel comfortable having the lad come back to Terreno Boscoso under the current circumstances. She knew they could expect no help from Florence. It was too far away, and the interests of the duchy were not the concern of the di Medicis or the Florentine government. If their mercenaries could not drive the French back over the border, Francesca did not know what they would do.

King Louis didn’t really need her husband’s fealty. She realized now it had been a polite gesture, and explained that to Rafaello. “The French only want one thing of us: to quarter their troops here for their future forays into the Italian states. Your fealty would have given them the right.”

“And without my fealty,” Rafaello said, suddenly understanding, “they will simply seize the duchy for their own purposes. What arrogance!”

“It is the nature of the French to be arrogant,” Francesca replied. “They cannot help themselves, I fear.”

“But we must pay the price for their overweening pride,” he responded. “I have never before in all my life felt so helpless.”

“Thank God your father is no longer with us to see this,” she answered him.

He nodded in agreement. “Nonetheless I somehow feel as if I have failed him, our ancestors, and Terreno Boscoso,” Rafaello admitted.

“You have not, my lord,” Francesca assured him. “You have done your best. You have done what is best for the duchy and for your people. No one can fault you.”

“I should have pledged my fealty to King Louis,” he said.

“It would have done no good. What the French wanted was to quarter their troops here. It is a veiled threat to the Italian states, and they are aware of it. With or without your permission they were determined to do it.”

“I pray we can stop them before they reach the town,” Rafaello said, but she heard the hopelessness in his voice.

“I hope so too,” Francesca agreed, but she knew it was unlikely. She had read the first dispatches sent by Captain Arnaldo from the front line. There were more than 500 French troops to their 225. Unless a miracle occurred it was likely that the French would reach the town in a few days.

Most of the women and children, along with the elderly who were mobile, departed the town. The goldsmith and jeweler who served on the council took her female artisans and departed for Milan. She had friends there, and they would welcome her and her workers. A silence such as Francesca had never known surrounded the castle now both day and night. The town boasted no lights once the night set in. It felt like they were the only people left upon the earth itself. Francesca did not know which was worse: the empty silent days, or the dark and silent nights.

The facade of the castle’s inhabitants was calm, but Francesca knew that they were as nervous, frightened, and concerned as she was. It was almost a relief to have the French troops march into the town. Captain Arnaldo and a few of his men had managed to return a few hours ahead of the invaders, gaining entrance to the castle by a hidden back entry that opened into the cellars and dungeons beneath. The doorway by which they gained admission was then barred by an iron rectangle that was screwed into the stone walls. It would be difficult if not impossible to get into the castle by that door now. It could be unlocked only by removing the iron barrier from the inside.

Captain Arnaldo immediately sought his master. Finding him in the hall with the
duchessa
, he gave his report. After a brief fight some of the mercenaries had switched sides, and the rest not killed had fled. He and his own small force had fought on until he realized that future deaths would accomplish nothing for the duchy. He had given the order to the remaining few survivors to retreat. “There is no hope, my lord, and I can only beg your forgiveness,” the soldier said, hanging his head.

“You did your best,” Rafaello replied. “We could ask no more. And I am glad that you brought those who remained loyal to us home.”

“The French?” Francesca asked him.

“With nothing to impede them now, my lady, they will arrive in the town within a few hours,” he answered her. “We have but to wait.”

“Do they carry heavy artillery with them?” the duke wanted to know.

“No, there is only the small French force. The Comte du Barry leads them,” was the captain’s answer.

“He is no soldier,” Rafaello said.

“He is the official face of his king, but the soldiers are directed by another man. I do not know who he is, my lord.”

“They want the town,” Francesca said softly. “They expect they can easily take the castle, for it has always been open to all visitors.”

“Even du Barry could not expect me to keep my drawbridge down under such circumstances,” Rafaello said, disbelieving.

“Of course not, but he does not realize how thick the drawbridge truly is. He believes it will be easily breached because there has never been any sign of this castle being defensive. We have men-at-arms, but only a few patrol the heights of the castle. And we have no army. For the Comte du Barry and his king, taking Terreno Boscoso is like picking a ripe plum from its tree. Or so they believe. They will discover the plum has a rather tough stem, and it is not easy at all. They may have the empty town, but the castle will remain inviolate.”

“Once they have discovered that, they may send for cannon,” Rafaello replied.

“Then we must flee,” Francesca said quietly. “We cannot allow ourselves to be taken prisoner. As long as the duke is free his people may have hope.”

He was astounded by her calm bravery, her logic. He had learned in the year that they had been wed that his wife was not just beautiful. She was clever and intelligent. Still, when she spoke as she had just done it came as a surprise to him. “I never meant for you to be caught in such turmoil,” he told her. Your life should have been as sweet and peaceful as the
duchessas
before you.”

“I would have been truly bored,” Francesca said, “although to confess I should have preferred my life to be slightly less exciting. However, I have never before been involved in a war,” she remarked.

Rafaello burst out laughing, and he caught her to him and kissed her hard. “I cannot see Louisa or Aceline taking this situation in such good stride,” he told her.

“They did not love you as I do. Louisa did not love you at all,” Francesca replied. “As for Aceline, who is to say if she had been your wife that her father wouldn’t have prevailed upon you to allow the French to have a garrison here? Refusing your father-in-law would have proved awkward.”

“I could have never married Aceline du Barry,” he said. “Not if I had never met you, Francesca, my love. She was a shrew.”

“But you might have had a son by now,” Francesca said softly. “Your father might have known an heir was due before he died.”

This was the moment, Rafaello realized. He would never have one so perfect again. “Perhaps if you had succumbed to Carlo we would have,” he said quietly.

“
Carlo
?” Francesca blushed, but then she said, “I could not betray you, my lord husband, even if we had not been formally betrothed.”

“A pity,” he said with a small grin. “I did try so hard to seduce you. That one night . . .”

“What one night?” she demanded, and then she said,
“You tried to seduce me?
My lord, what can you mean?”

“Jesu, Marie, was I that good that you do not realize that Carlo and I were one and the same, Francesca?”

“No!” she replied, disbelieving.

“Yes,” he told her. “I was terrified when you ran off into the forest, but when word came you were safe at the inn with Alonza, I grew angry. What could I have possibly done to offend you, to send you fleeing me? I could not at first understand, and then I realized that I did not really know you. That I had been delighted by your extraordinary beauty, and how kind you were to my father, and how you and Louisa had become friends, but I really knew nothing more of you. I thought perhaps if I might understand you better we could make a good marriage. I had frequently hunted in the forest using the name Carlo. It is one of my Christian names. Were you not paying attention when the bishop asked at our wedding if I, Rafaello Titus Eduardo Carlo, would have you to wife?”

“No,” Francesca said in a little voice. “I was too overwhelmed by all that had happened that morning.” She still wasn’t quite certain she believed him.

“What is it that puzzles you?” he asked her

“Carlo was bearded. You are clean shaven,” she answered.

“He was,” Rafaello agreed. “Shall I grow my beard again to convince you that your romantic huntsman and I are one and the same, Francesca Allegra Liliana Maria?”

She stared at him, surprised. “You remembered all of my names. I think I am impressed. Yes! Grow your beard again. It makes you look older, which might not be a bad idea when you must face the French leader of these forces. You are much too handsome and youthful, which makes people who do not know you believe you are easily overcome.”

“I shall take your suggestion, but now we must return to the subject of Carlo,” Rafaello told her.

“Why? If you were Carlo, then you know I am truthful when I say we were not lovers, although, my lord, it is not that I was not tempted. I was. Why could you not have been yourself with me when we first met? If you were not the duke, is Carlo the man you would prefer to be?” Francesca asked perceptively, and she looked closely at her husband.

“You are too clever by far, my love,” he told her. “It is not that I am not proud to be who I am, but it brings with it too many responsibilities. Now we are faced with a French invasion, and shortly the Milanese will come filled with righteous indignation over the fact that the French are in Terreno Boscoso. None of the previous dukes had to deal with a situation like this. I do not like it, and I do not know if I am strong enough to handle it,” he told her. “Yes, I should rather be Carlo, the huntsman right now.”

He looked so miserable at his admission that Francesca took him in her arms to comfort him. There was no doubt that his peaceful ancestors had never found themselves in a position like this. He hadn’t been trained to manage a problem such as now faced him. “If I agreed to offer my fealty to the French king and host his troops willingly now, would he still accept my loyalty? I did what I believe was right, Francesca, but it was wrong for my duchy. My people have had to flee. There is no business being transacted. How can the duchy survive without its people and its commerce? In one noble and proud gesture I have destroyed my country.”

“Do you forget Milan, my lord?” she asked him. “They would not help if we asked, yet they would cry to the heavens had you willingly allowed the French here,” Francesca reminded him.

“I should have put Terreno Boscoso first. I realize now there was no way I could have pleased everyone,” he said unhappily.

“Had you admitted the French willingly, Milan would have attacked their soldiers and made a battleground of our duchy,” his wife said.

“They will probably do it anyway,” Rafaello replied.

Francesca didn’t know what to say to him after that. She had never had any experience with a difficulty such as they now found themselves in. She had been raised to be a good wife, a perfect ornament, and the mother of her husband’s male heirs. Now, however, she was relieved that there was no child in her womb. Worse, she was not certain exactly what was going to happen to them, or to Terreno Boscoso, now.

Rafaello disappeared within the castle for the next few days. He needed to consider any options that they might have, and he was very concerned for his wife’s safety. So far in the town below there had been no chaos. The French quartered themselves in the houses of his citizens. He could imagine the irritation of the ordinary soldiers. There were no women to rape. The few that had remained were ancient crones who kept to their beds, and cursed them beneath their foul breath anytime they saw them.