Francesca (30 page)

There was virtually nothing to steal, and soldiers relied on booty to fill their pockets, as their masters were usually slow to pay them for their services.

The French made no effort to speak with the duke at first. Seeing the strength of the raised drawbridge they realized that only cannon could force it down and allow them admittance to the castle. They could see no other way that would admit them into the castle. But truthfully there was little need to speak with the duke immediately. They had the town, which they had wanted first and foremost, and took time to settle themselves.

An envoy from Milan came to speak with the duke. The invaders had no orders to stop anyone from entering, if indeed they could. The French laughed heartily to see the pompous envoy forced to row himself across the moat and then wrap a rope about himself so he might be pulled up to a place where he could be hauled into the castle.

Even from the ground across the water they could hear the Milanese sputtering his indignation at such treatment.

“I suppose if we wish to speak with the duke we must enter the castle the same way,” the military commander said with a chuckle.

“Nonsense!” the Comte du Barry responded. “They will surely lower the drawbridge for us. The young duke is not unreasonable.”

“If he were reasonable,” the commander said sarcastically, “we should not be living in the town, but rather be his guests in the castle. We will question the envoy when he returns. It is our right.”

“We cannot harm him,” the Comte du Barry said. “King Louis wants no fuss with Milan right now. He is not a well man.”

“Why on earth did he want this tiny bit of land to add to all the great inheritances he has gained?” the commander asked the comte. “We do not really need to garrison soldiers here at all. You would know the truth of this matter, my lord comte, if you would but tell.”

Raoul du Barry smiled. “I see no harm in you knowing, although you must keep the secret for now. France has enough land for successful agriculture, but unlike the Spanish, we have no source of precious metals. Terreno Boscoso has in the far north of the duchy gold mines. They are small, for the dukes of this duchy have never wanted to bring attention to their good fortune. They mine what they need for themselves and their little economy. France could expand those mines and have a goodly supply of gold for the king if the duchy was ours. But if it became publicly known that these mines exist, then there would be others who would want them too. King Louis hoped to have this wealth peacefully by gaining the young duke’s fealty. That is why I offered my daughter to the young duke for a bride. He rejected her in favor of that merchant’s daughter from Florence.”

“I am told the
duchessa
is very beautiful,” the commander said.

“I cannot deny it,” the comte admitted. “Her maternal grandfather is a Venetian prince, it is said, and one of her brothers, a priest, is secretary to a cardinal in Rome.”

“You have quite a knowledge of the
duchessa
’s family,” the commander noted slyly. “Do you resent her being chosen over your daughter?”

Raoul du Barry smiled tightly. “Wouldn’t you if it were your daughter?” he said bitterly. “Aceline told me that the merchant’s daughter showed lascivious behavior, which is what attracted the duke.”

“And you believed her?” the commander said boldly.

“Not after I met the
duchessa
,” the comte admitted. “Like all in our family my daughter is proud. She did not like being passed over for a silk merchant’s daughter.”

“And so now we have both the duke and his beautiful wife at our mercy,” the commander said slowly. “Do you believe the duke will relent and offer King Louis his fealty now?”

“We no longer need it,” the comte said coldly.

“And the envoy from Milan? Do you think he brings word of the little duke’s aid? We will have a fight on our hands if the Milanese come.”

“King Louis has soldiers enough to contain the Milanese. I do not believe they will offer any aid. The duke of Milan’s guardian uncle probably believes that Terreno Boscoso is in league with King Louis, and seeks to warn their duke of such folly.” The comte chuckled. “Duke Rafaello has probably destroyed his duchy with his overweening pride.”

“If he relents and swears fealty to King Louis we must honor his promise,” the commander said. “We are honorable men. The French are not barbarians.”

“I carry with me an order signed by the king himself. Remember it is the duchy’s gold mine he wants. Duke Rafaello and his wife are to be disposed of in order to prevent the duchy from rallying about him. The
duchessa
has not yet given him an heir, for even I should be reluctant to kill a child. We are to gain the duke’s trust. Then we are to gain entry to the castle with just a few men, our servants. They will see the job done quickly and quietly,” Raoul du Barry said.

The commander nodded slowly. He could not refuse his royal master’s orders, but he did not like this trickery. It was murder. The murder of a consecrated ruler and his wife. No. He didn’t like it at all. But he would do it because those were his orders, or so the comte said. The commander decided he would want to see the king’s order before he acted. I don’t like it, he thought once again. And he didn’t like Raoul du Barry either.

A sudden shout of outrage, and then a splash turned his attention just in time to see the Milanese envoy being pitched into the moat. Sputtering with fury, the man swam to the far side of the water where the two Frenchmen stood. He scrambled out and, turning, shouted, “My master, the duke, will hear of this outrage!” He shook his fist upward.

“Fuck your master,” someone on the battlement shouted down angrily.

The French commander hurried to help the wet Milanese envoy. “Let us aid you,” he said. “France has no quarrel with Milan. Why were you thrown into the moat?”

The Milanese looked at the Frenchman and then decided it didn’t matter at all. “My master, the duke, sent me to demand from Duke Rafaello an answer as to why you French have come into Terreno Boscoso. The duke had sent to him for help.”

“I think your duke must be mistaken. Duke Rafaello has sworn fealty to King Louis. Granted, we did march into this duchy without permission, but the duke’s barring his castle to us is a simple misunderstanding. We will straighten it out shortly.” The comte smiled at the man. “Now, sir, we must see that you have dry clothing for your return to Milan. Your master will certainly want to know what you have learned.” He smiled again.

“Clever, my lord, very clever,” the commander said to the comte when the Milanese envoy had finally gone on his way. “But to what purpose?”

“Simply to cause consternation among the Milanese and any others they will share this knowledge with,” the comte said. “Now, who will help the duke of Terreno Boscoso? There is no one, I will wager.” He smiled his cold smile again.

The commander suddenly realized that all this man was doing came from his need for revenge. Revenge on the young duke who had refused the comte’s daughter’s hand in marriage. But King Louis would be lured by the knowledge of gold. He would not care even if he were told the truth. The commander was glad he was a simple soldier.

Chapter 15

“W
as it really politic to toss the Milanese envoy into the moat?” Francesca asked her husband. She was trying hard not to laugh.

“Pompous fool!” Rafaello said. “How dare he speak to me as if I were a dishonest and naughty child. I knew asking the Milanese for aid was a lost cause. At least he was able to bring you a letter from your mother. Is all well with your family?”

“My mother writes that the di Medici cannot help us. Terreno Boscoso is too far away for Florence to have any real interest in it. Lorenzo sends his regrets,” Francesca responded quietly. “What are we to do, my lord? Milan believes we have betrayed them. It would seem we have little hope at all. I realize we have not the strength to drive the French out of our duchy. What, then, can we do?”

“I am realizing now that there is more to this than just the need to quarter troops here,” the duke said slowly. “But I cannot imagine what else they would want of us.”

“The Comte du Barry wants revenge,” Francesca replied. “He is a fool, of course. We are not responsible for Aceline’s plight. He is.”

“He is a proud man, my love. He will never admit to that, but it is more than just his need for revenge. You do not get the king of France to aid you in your revenge when you are an unimportant man. No. King Louis has been told there is something here that he has decided he wants. But what is it?”

The autumn came and with it a request shouted from below the castle walls for a meeting with the duke. The desire was relayed to the duke, who gave the man-at-arms his reply. The answer was shouted down.

“The duke says he will speak with anyone but the Comte du Barry.”

Hearing that, Raoul du Barry was infuriated, but the commander chuckled. “You, like your daughter, du Barry, have not endeared yourself to the duke,” he noted. Then he turned to the soldier who had brought the answer. “Say that Commander d’Aumont will speak with the duke at his convenience.”

The soldier nodded and hurried off.

“Are you mad, treating this fellow as if he mattered?” the comte demanded.

“I would remind you, my lord,” the commander said quietly, “that this small troop of King Louis’s soldiers is mine to direct. You have a history with this duke, and he obviously does not like you, so he will not treat with you. But of necessity we must gain the duke’s trust enough to get a few men into the castle so the duke and his wife may, as distasteful as I find it, be disposed of. Once that is done Terreno Boscoso and its wealth are King Louis’s. I would be remiss in my fealty if I did not do my duty by my king.”

The comte grew silent, but then he said, “Before the
duchessa
is killed I want her raped before her husband’s eyes.”

“What?”
The commander was not so much disgusted as surprised by such a request.

“I will tell you something I have told few others, d’Aumont,” the comte said. “When Rafaello Cesare chose the silk merchant’s daughter to be his bride, my daughter was sent back to me. But Aceline was not sent with enough men-at-arms to protect her. Her little train was set upon by bandits. She was raped and held captive for several months. When she and her serving wench managed to escape and reach home it was discovered she was enceinte by her captor. She birthed her bastard and was rendered mad by the shame of it all. She and the boy now reside in a convent. I want the
Duchessa
Francesca shamed in the same way before you cut her throat. I want her raped and killed first so her husband may suffer the same tortures of the damned that I have over the loss of my daughter. I want him to hear her cries as she is violated by one of your soldiers, and then another and another, at least a dozen men. I want this duke to hear his wife’s screams and know that he is helpless to aid her. Then he is to be whipped until his back is raw and he is screaming with his anguish and pain. Finally he will be hanged.”

“And this is all in King Louis’s directive to you, my lord?” Commander d’Aumont said dryly.

“They are to be killed. The manner in which they die is left up to me,” the comte said shortly.

“King Louis is not a man for wanton cruelty, Comte. We will execute them as quickly and as mercifully as we can,” the commander said. “With no other heirs to Terreno Boscoso the duchy is ours. That is all King Louis desires
.
”
Mon Dieu!
This Comte du Barry was a vengeful man, but what he proposed to do to the duke and his wife was intolerable. Their demise must be swift and without undue cruelty.

The soldier returned from the moat to say that the commander would be granted an audience with Duke Rafaello the following morning. He could row across the moat and would then be hauled up to the battlements. Once there he would be taken to the duke. The drawbridge would not be lowered. Commander d’Aumont had to admire the duke’s caution, but then considering the French had invaded the duchy without cause, why wouldn’t Duke Rafaello be wary?

He was spared the comte’s company this evening and was relieved. Commander d’Aumont might have sought out the nobleman and told him of his meeting on the morrow, but he did not. When morning came he broke his fast and then rowed across the moat. Anchoring the small boat, he waited for the rope to be lowered, and when it was he skillfully tied it about his waist, indicating he was ready to be slowly and carefully drawn up. Once over the battlements he was taken to the duke.

Rafaello Cesare greeted the Frenchman by offering him a goblet of wine.

“Thank you, my lord duke,” d’Aumont said. He raised the goblet. “To King Louis!” he toasted. He then introduced himself. “I am Jean-Paul d’Aumont, a commander in his majesty’s armies.”

Without hesitation Rafaello raised his goblet. “To King Louis,” he agreed. Then he said, “Come and sit by the fire, Commander. You will tell me why you sought to speak with me.” He took a deep sip of the wine as he sat and waved his companion into the high-backed tapestried chair opposite him.

The Frenchman sat down and drank from his goblet. “I am told you refused to give King Louis your fealty,” he began.

“I might have given it, but I could not countenance French troops in my town,” the duke replied. “And yet now I have them.” He smiled wryly.

“King Louis merely wishes to ensure that Milan and the other Italian states remain peaceful. It is easier to intimidate them by garrisoning a few of his troops in Terreno Boscoso,” the commander said smoothly.

“Nonsense!” the duke replied. “It is obvious to me that my duchy has something King Louis desires, although I cannot imagine what that is. But, then, I am new to my position. I might have asked my father, the former duke, but he has died.” Rafaello crossed himself piously.

“I cannot help you there,” the commander lied. “I am just a soldier and I was given my orders.”

“What is the Comte du Barry doing among your little army?” the duke asked.

The commander considered the query, and then decided truth was a better weapon in this case than a lie. “He seeks revenge upon you for his daughter’s misfortune.”

“So my wife said, but I could not believe it. Aceline du Barry’s mischance was not my fault, but her father’s fault. My father, the late duke, invited Aceline along with two other maidens to Terreno Boscoso in hopes that I would choose one of them as a bride. I did not choose Aceline. She was an overproud shrew. She was returned home, laden with rich gifts from my father, Duke Titus, and guarded by the few men-at-arms her father had sent with her when she came and who remained until it was time to return her home. Her own father should have sent more men to guard his daughter, but he did not. Her tragedy was not the fault of Terreno Boscoso.

“When she claimed her bastard was mine, the innocent child’s very appearance gave lie to the assertion. Her maidservant told us the truth. My wife arranged for Aceline and her infant to be cared for by the gentle nuns of a convent my mother-in-law favors. It was not our responsibility to help the comte, but he was so distraught at the time that Francesca felt sorry for him.”

“’Tis not exactly the tale he tells, but no matter,” the Frenchman said.

“So King Louis’s only interest is in protecting his borders by invading Terreno Boscoso,” the duke repeated slowly.

“I know nothing more, my lord,” Commander d’Aumont replied.

“So even if I offered to give your king my fealty now he would not withdraw his troops,” the duke said. “What have we to talk about then, Commander? France has invaded my duchy. It is well known that Terreno Boscoso is peaceful. It is also known that we have no army with which to defend ourselves. We are at your mercy. There is more to this than is being spoken aloud. If that were not so my fealty would be enough for you to withdraw your troops from my duchy. Your loyalty must lie with your king. But mine must lie with my citizens. They are my responsibility.”

“You have few folk that I can see in your many-housed town,” the commander noted with a small smile. “I can only assume they were made aware of our coming and fled for more peaceful climes.”

“Soldiers are known to pillage and commit rape,” the duke answered.

“Believe me, my lord, there is little to take in those many houses, and no women but ancients who grudgingly cook for those now housed in your town,” the commander told the duke. “You may have no army, but you have nonetheless protected your people.”

The duke acknowledged the compliment with a nod. “I suppose, then, that we are finished, Commander d’Aumont.” He rose from his chair.

The Frenchman stood as well. “Might I beg a boon of you, my lord duke? It is said that your wife is very beautiful. Would you permit me to present my compliments to her? I am bold to ask, I know, but . . .” He shrugged.

Rafaello laughed good-naturedly. “Matteo,” he called to a servant. “Go and ask the
duchessa
if she would attend us in the hall.”

“My lord, thank you for satisfying a bold man’s curiosity,” the Frenchman said.

Matteo hurried to the
duchessa
’s apartment. Terza admitted him as Francesca came forward. “My lady, Duke Rafaello requests you attend him and his guest in the hall.”

“What did you overhear?” Francesca asked the servant. She knew Matteo to be intelligent and he could not help but eavesdrop.

Matteo shook his head. “Nothing has happened or will happen. The French claim they but desire to protect their borders by invading us. This commander is pleasant, but if he has any knowledge other than that he will not reveal it. The duke has asked if he offered King Louis his fealty, would the French withdraw their troops. The commander says no. The duke says then the French desire something else of Terreno Boscoso, but the commander says he knows nothing about such a thing. Of course he lies.”

“What does the duchy have that would be of value to the French?” Francesca wondered aloud. We are forests and fields and a single town where normal commerce is carried on. There would seem to be nothing more.”

Then Terza spoke up. “What of
Signora
Donatella and her artisans? Where does the gold come from to fashion their wares?”

“There is a small old mine in the far north of the duchy,” Matteo said, “but no one has taken so much as a single nugget from it in years. There is no gold left to my knowledge. I didn’t think anyone even remembered its existence.”

“Madre di Dios!”
Francesca exclaimed. “Surely that is it!”

“My lady, the duke is waiting,” Matteo said, reminding her of Rafaello’s request.

Francesca nodded. “Let us go,” she said, and followed him down into the hall.

Commander d’Aumont leapt to his feet as she entered the chamber.
Mon Dieu
, he thought silently. The rumors are truth. She is beautiful. If she came to France she would rule the court.

“You sent for me, my lord,” Francesca said to the duke in deceptively meek tones, and she curtsied deeply before him.

There was a twinkle in the duke’s eye as he said, “Commander d’Aumont, madam, and his manners are decidedly better than the Comte du Barry’s. Hearing of your charms he wishes to view them for himself.”

Francesca turned her beautiful green eyes on the Frenchman and held out her hand to be kissed.