Silk Merchant's Daughters: Francesca Part 2

"You traveled slowly, or did you meet with some misfortune along your route?" the border keeper asked.

"It's our large baggage train. It's about an hour behind us," the captain of the men-at-arms said in reply.

"But your lady hasn't been chosen from among the three yet," the border keeper noted slyly.

"Do you think that Florence would send an applicant unprepared and arriving like a pauper?" the captain returned proudly. "Half the men-at-arms with me come from the house of the di Medici. Our candidate is both well respected and of a good and honorable family. She was chosen by Lorenzo the Magnificent himself."

"I am suitably awed," the border keeper said, grinning. He opened the crossing gate for them and waved them through. "I'll send your baggage train on as soon as it arrives."

"My thanks," the captain responded politely. "How far are we from the duke's castello?"

"The rest of today and a half day tomorrow should bring you safely to it," the border keeper said.

They traveled onward until almost sunset. The baggage train arrived, and the encampment was set up for the evening. When the dinner had been brought and the blessing said Father Silvio told them what the captain had learned from the border keeper.

"You must surely be glad to finally reach your destination, madonna. I will be glad when we do, I am not loath to admit. He tore a piece from the loaf of bread and mopped up the rich gravy from the rabbit stew that had been served. "And you will finally meet the duke's young heir. He cannot fail to be taken by you. It is hoped you will not frighten him away." He smiled mischievously at her as the two nuns, usually silent, and Terza laughed at his words. The priest was well aware he was baiting Francesca.

"I will withhold my judgment on this young lordling until I have spent some time with him," she answered sweetly, adding, "Then I will frighten him away, good priest."

"I am relieved you will at least give him an opportunity to know you, signorina," Father Silvio responded drolly. "I must have at least a month's respite before you force our return to Florence and your eternal spinsterhood."

"Perhaps I shall join a convent after all," Francesca said pertly. "What think you, Annunziata? Benigna?" she queried her two chaperones.

"I think that you should be a great trial for any convent, and particularly its novice mistress," Annunziata, the more outspoken of the two nuns, said candidly. Benigna nodded but there was a small smile upon her lips.

"I believe as soon as Terza clears our dishes away it will be time for prayers, and then you must seek your beds, my daughters," Father Silvio said.

When all had been accomplished and before she prepared herself for bed Francesca called for Terza, and together the two sought out the captain of the men-at-arms. "Send scouts ahead in the morning as soon as it is light enough to see," she told him. "I want to know exactly how many hours it will take to reach the duke's castello.

"When we are an hour away I would stop, bathe, and don fresh garments. I will not meet this duke or his son smelling of horse and the road. You need not raise my pavilion. The priest's small tent will do and give me the shelter I need. I will change horses when we again proceed. I want the bay for my entrance into the castello."

"I'll see the priest's small tent is carried by our men-at-arms on the morrow. Your tub, however, is another matter. We will have to put it on wheels and drag it behind us."

"You will know best," Francesca said. Then she and Terza left the captain to return to the pavilion and settle themselves for the night. She slept surprisingly well, but was immediately awake when Terza touched her shoulder even before the dawn. Outside Francesca could hear the birds already stirring, their cheerful chirps quite audible through the walls of the silk tent. She joined the two nuns and the priest for their early-morning devotionals and breakfast, even as the pavilion was being torn down around them.

They were on the forest road again as the sunrise began to creep over the unseen horizon, sending bright golden rays through the tall trees. Finally when the sun had reached its midday position they stopped where the forest opened out into a large meadow. As the priest's small undistinguished tent was being raised to shield her from prying eyes, she bathed, and Francesca was pleased to see a fire had been started and two kettles of water were being heated. It occurred to her that she had not considered water when she was so busy giving instructions the previous evening.

"Where do you think they got the water?" she said to Terza.

"There's a nice big brook on the edge of this meadow," Terza replied. "I heard the captain this morning instructing his scouts to be certain to find a halt where water could easily be obtained."

"He's clever," Francesca remarked. "I must tell my father of his resourcefulness when we return to Florence in a few months' time."

When the tub was full Francesca and Terza entered the tent, where the serving woman stripped the clothing from her mistress, pinned up her single thick plait, and helped her into the tub. The girl sank down into the water with a sigh of delight.

"I'll repack these smelly things and fetch what you are to wear," Terza said. "Enjoy your bath, and I'll be back to scrub you down properly." Then she exited the tent quickly.

Francesca closed her eyes. In a few hours this day would be concluded. She would sleep in a comfortable bed and enjoy herself for the next few weeks until she could properly satisfy the duke that she was not a good choice to be his son's wife. Then they would return to Florence. She felt a tiny modic.u.m of guilt knowing that both her family and the di Medicis hoped for a match between her and Terreno Boscoso. Each had other motives than her happiness. She could only marry a man she loved beyond all reason. She had realized months ago that her fascination with Enzo Ziani's charms was childish.

Her grandfather, her parents, the priests, had all been correct. At thirteen she had been too immature to wed. Many girls, however, were not, but she certainly was, as her reckless behavior in taking her sister's place on the wedding gondola had proven. And then she had caused further scandal by refusing to accept Enzo's decision to marry an older girl of sixteen who came from a large family of sons. She made a grimace.

The girl had been ugly too, which made it more hurtful that Francesca Pietro d'Angelo with her beauty could be overlooked. But she had been, and now she was about to join two other girls in attempting to win the favor of this duke's son. Well, they would try. She didn't think she would. If he could like her for her, that would be fine. But she would not debase herself in order to gain anyone's favor.

Terza returned with the rich brown silk riding outfit, which Francesca had not worn since the day she departed Florence. It was a beautiful garment embellished with fine cream-colored lace, its bodice decorated with bits of sparkling topaz. The maidservant laid it carefully aside, and then, taking up the scrub brush, began to quickly wash her mistress. When she was done Francesca stepped from the tub to be rubbed briskly dry. Then came her clothing, beginning with silk undergarments, stockings, and finally the lavish brown skirts and fitted bodice.

Terza unpinned the braid Francesca favored when riding. She brushed out her mistress's long thick tresses. They were a rich gold in color with a hint of flame. The hair, while not curly, had a natural tendency to wave, which Terza now encouraged by brushing it around her fingers and her hand. She wanted Francesca to show to her best advantage as she rode up to the duke's gates, especially as she had not yet gotten a look at her lady's compet.i.tion. Once she knew what the other two girls looked like she would be certain that Francesca outshined them. The silk merchant had promised her that if Francesca wed with the duke's son, he would give her a small purse of gold in reward and she would always have a place in his house, even in old age. Of course, even Terza knew that if her mistress did indeed marry the duke's son, they were unlikely, either of them, to ever see Florence again. Still the gold would be paid, and gold was good no matter where you lived. "You're done," she told Francesca. "The horses are awaiting us."

Outside, Francesca reluctantly positioned herself in her sidesaddle. She far preferred her leather pants, which allowed her to ride astride, but as Terza artfully arranged the silk skirts around her and over the bay's flanks, she knew how beautiful she looked. The serving woman handed her a riding crop and mounted her own animal, and they were ready to depart on this final leg of their long journey.

They had barely gone a short distance along the forest road when a troupe of riders galloped from the trees, surrounding them. The men-at-arms, caught unawares, began reaching for their swords, but the leader of this group called out, "We are the king's huntsmen, and have come to escort you to Castello Forestavista. Welcome to Terreno Boscoso! My name is Valiant. The duke awaits you." Then with a wave of his hand he signaled the large party onward.

"Oh, my," Terza said. "He's a handsome fellow, isn't he? Do you think he is the duke's son?"

"I doubt it," Francesca said. "My host and his son will greet me dressed in their very best so I may be impressed."

The duke's huntsmen rode among their ranks while Valiant settled himself next to the captain of the men-at-arms. One man, with a bushy beard and nasty scar that ran from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his mouth, nodded in her direction as he rode near her.

Francesca tossed her head, ignoring him. "Does he think I am some strumpet from the streets of Florence that he can look at me like that?" she whispered to Terza.

"He does look dangerous," Terza admitted.

They came to a wide drawbridge that opened into the castle's yard. Crossing it, they entered. There were servants to help them down off their horses. A higher-level servant came forward. "Signorina Pietro d'Angelo, welcome," he greeted her. "I am Piero, Duke t.i.tus's majordomo. If you will please follow me I will take you to the duke. He awaits you in his library. Is this your maid?"

"Yes, it is," Francesca replied. "Her name is Terza."

Piero turned to Terza as he drew a young footman forward. "This is Matteo, Terza. He will take you to your apartments. Your luggage will be brought up to you as soon as it arrives. Shall I kennel your dogs, madonna?"

"Nay, Piero. I prefer them with me," Francesca told him. "Go with Terza, Nebbia, Tuono," she said to the two greyhounds. Then, turning, she followed Piero into the castle and to the chamber where the duke awaited her.

The majordomo ushered her into a beautiful room lined with bookcases whose shelves were filled with ancient volumes and scrolls. "My lord, Signorina Pietro d'Angelo," he announced, then left her.

The tall, distinguished white-haired man stepped forward, and, taking Francesca's two hands in his, lifted them up to kiss. "Lorenzo di Medici wrote that you were quite beautiful. I am pleased to see that for once that Florentine rogue did not lie. Welcome to Terreno Boscoso, my child. You have traveled a long distance to reach us."

"I thank you for your kindness, my lord," Francesca answered him, curtsying deeply. "I am pleased to have finally arrived."

"I am told you have a bit of a temper and speak your mind, Francesca. I may call you Francesca, mayn't I?" Then, without awaiting her answer, he continued. "I hope that is so. Of the other two who have been sent, one is sweet but quite dull. The other is overproud. I doubt either of them will hold my son's interest." He laughed aloud. "Come, sit by the fire, and we will talk now. It may be July but the late afternoons can get a bit chilly."

He took her quite by surprise and yet she knew she already liked this old man. "Who are the others?" she asked him. "Neither Lorenzo nor my father claimed to know."

She settled herself in a tapestried chair while Duke t.i.tus sat opposite her.

"Ah yes, your rivals," he chuckled. "There is the little French girl, Aceline Marie du Barry, daughter of the Comte du Barry. She is dark and pet.i.te and has a sharp tongue, I have already noticed. The other is a sweet child, Louisa Maria di Genoa, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter of the Duke of Genoa. How old were you on your last natal day, Francesca?"

"Fifteen," she answered him. "My natal day is in April, my lord."

"The other two have just turned fourteen, both in June," Duke t.i.tus told her.

"When will I meet them?" Francesca asked him.

"Tonight in the hall. A small feast has been prepared to celebrate your arrival," he informed her. "You will want to bathe and change, my child, so I shall release you to do so. I watched you ride into the courtyard. You sit your horse well, and the garment you wear suits you well. I could not help but notice how prettily your skirts were displayed."

"I prefer to ride astride, and wear leather britches when I do," Francesca told Duke t.i.tus. "Skirts are such a bother ahorse."

"Excellent! You shall be able to keep up with us in the hunt," he approved as he stood up and escorted her to the door. Opening it he said, "I shall look forward to this evening. You will meet my son, Rafaello, then."

Piero stepped from the shadows in the hallway. "If you will follow me, madonna," he said, leading her away.

Francesca could not have found her way back to the library by the time they reached a broad corridor at whose end was a double oak door. The man-at-arms at the door flung it open for her.

"I will leave you here," Piero said. "You will find Terza awaiting you."

She stepped into the antechamber of her apartment. Terza hurried forward.

The room was filled with her luggage. The dogs were in the dayroom, sprawled before a cheerful fireplace. "I've met the duke. He's clever and he's courtly. If his son is like him I might actually find myself interested. I will meet him and the other two maidens tonight at a small banquet to celebrate my arrival. I'll need a spectacular gown to wear if I am to put my rivals out of sorts and stun the duke's son."

"I've already found a gown and set two housemaids to getting the wrinkles out of it," Terza answered. "I'll want to wash your hair, and you must bathe again. I've called for hot water and a tub. Your travel tub will not do."

The footman who had escorted Terza to these guest apartments now returned. "There are things I would show you and your mistress." Leading them to the large bedchamber, he pointed to a door. Opening it, he ushered them inside. "This is your bathing room," he said. He opened a small door in the stone wall to reveal a platform.

There were several buckets of steaming water on the platform. As he removed each in its turn, dumping them into the tall round oaken tub that sat in the room's center, he explained, "This is how the hot water is brought up." He sent the platform back down to from wherever it had come, and a moment later was pulling it up again with six more large buckets. "When you have filled the tub leave the platform at this level with its empty buckets, until you need them again. Your garderobe is through this other door," he explained without opening it. "Are there any questions you need ask of me?"

Terza thanked him, and he left them again. "How cleverly thought out this is," she remarked.

"Go and explore while I get your tub ready," Terza said, and began emptying the new buckets on the platform before sending them back down into the kitchens again.

She walked back out to the antechamber, noting the two little maids who were busy with a heated flat iron to remove any wrinkles from her turquoise gown. Francesca smiled at them. "Thank you for your labors on my behalf." Shyly the duo bobbed their heads up and down. The antechamber had several straight-back chairs lined up against and around the stone walls. It had a large stone fireplace with a late-afternoon fire in it.

The dayroom was comfortably furnished. Its walls were paneled in a warm lightish wood. Windows gave view to the forest surrounding the castle and the high mountains beyond. The stone fireplace was flanked by two carved, seated lions. The furniture was a golden oak, old but well cared for. Tapestries hung on the paneled walls, and carpets adorned the stone floors.

Returning to the bedchamber, she admired the bucolic and romantic scenes painted upon the walls. Even the ceilings showed plump naked and seminaked G.o.ds, G.o.ddesses, and cupids enjoying a picnic within a summer meadow. Like the furniture in the dayroom, that within this room was golden oak. Her bed was hung with pale green velvet, and Terza had already made it up with Francesca's scented sheets, pillows, and silk and down comforter. I am really looking forward to a good sleep tonight, Francesca thought.

Terza bustled out of the bathing room. "Let's get you into your tub. Then you will have time for a short nap before I must dress you," she said. She quickly undressed her mistress and led her quickly into the hot tub.

Francesca sank down into the water. She closed her eyes and a small smile touched her features. The little travel tub this morning had not been scented with exotic rose oil, nor held the heat as well as this wonderful tub did. Terza climbed the steps to the tub, and, kneeling, began to wash Francesca's beautiful hair as her mistress rubbed a finely milled soap containing the rose fragrance over her body. She loved the sensation of luxury on her body and suddenly wondered if a man's hands upon her would rouse those same feelings.

When she had finished bathing and her hair had been toweled and brushed dry, then rubbed with silk cloth to bring up its shine, Francesca donned a delicate silk chemise and lay down to rest. When she finally awoke she rose so Terza might dress her.

The gown chosen was elegant but reasonably simple. Softly pleated, its turquoise, light velvet skirts were neither fitted nor full, but hung gracefully over two silk petticoats and a sleeveless cloth of silver underdress. The bodice was tightly fitted with an open center panel that revealed the underdress. The neckline was square, not so low as to reveal her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but low enough to show a bit of ripe cleavage. The turned-back cuffs on her sleeves were trimmed with exquisite cream-colored lace. She wore plain silk stockings and heelless leather slippers, but neither could be seen beneath her long skirts.

About her neck Francesca wore a red-gold chain from which hung a heart-shaped pink diamond that flashed and sparkled. Her long reddish-golden hair had been brushed into loose waves, and against all tradition she wore nothing in her hair or on her head.

Terza stepped back and smiled gleefully. "He cannot fail to be taken by you, and your rivals will have a bitter taste in their mouths this night."

"But it's so simple," Francesca said.

"Precisely!" Terza crowed. "And your att.i.tude must match your garments. Do not endeavor to deliberately attract his attention. Allow him to come to you, and then be nothing more than polite. Do not fawn over him like the others will do. Speak with his father instead. It will drive this boy wild with jealousy." Then the maidservant escorted her mistress from her apartments to the Great Hall of the castle. "Remember my words," she hissed softly, leaving her at the entrance.

Francesca entered the hall, her carriage tall and straight as she directed her feet towards the high board where she knew she would be seated tonight.

Duke t.i.tus leaned over to his son and whispered into his ear. "Is she not glorious, Rafaello? What grace, what elegance and style, what hair! And a mother who has produced seven living children."

"It is all as you point out, Padre, but I want more in a woman, as you well know," the younger man responded. "I rode disguised with the huntsmen and Valiant this morning to welcome the Florentines. I found the girl arrogant. She did not smile or exclaim with delight at her forester escort. I would have thought her pleased and honored that your men came out to greet her."

"She is a Florentine, Rafaello. She has been brought up to have elegant manners. I imagine had either of the other two been greeted in such an enthusiastic manner they would have been taken aback as well," Duke t.i.tus told his son. "Give her a chance."

Farther down the high board Francesca's two rivals attempted to study her as she came into the hall. She mounted the dais and was seated between Duke t.i.tus and his heir.

Aceline du Barry narrowed her dark blue eyes. "She has a proud air about her for a silk merchant's daughter," the French girl observed.

"Her gown is lovely," Louisa di Genoa said.

"She appears overproud," Aceline replied.

"Don't you recall how nervous you were the first night you arrived when the banquet was for you?"

"The du Barrys are never afraid or nervous," Aceline answered her.

"Well, I certainly was," Louisa admitted.

"Of course you were," Aceline agreed. "You are, after all, only a duke's b.a.s.t.a.r.da."

"I am rarely reminded of the low status I hold," Louisa said quietly. "My family is far too polite to do so, and my father would have whipped anyone who dared to voice it. You are thoughtful to recollect it for me." She smiled a sweet smile that did not extend to her amber eyes.

"We should not be enemies," Aceline murmured. "If we band together against the Florentine it makes our chances with Rafaello all the better."

Louisa laughed low. "You can have the duke's heir," she said. "He scares me quite to death. He is so big and powerful. I want a gentler man for my husband."

"How can you not want Rafaello? He is handsome and very rich," the French girl responded. "Since girls have no choice in a husband I should just as soon have one like Rafaello than a poor, weak man."

"I think his friend, Valiant, even more handsome, and he is so kind," Louisa said.

"And poor. He is a third son, for goodness's sake." Aceline was shocked that any sensible girl would want a poor man, no matter his appearance.

"Keep your rivalry for Signorina Francesca, Aceline," Louisa told the French girl.

The servers began arriving with a variety of dishes that were pa.s.sed among the guests. There was local trout, sliced and served on a bed of bright green watercress, stewed eels in wine sauce, and creamed salted cod. There was a roasted wild boar and venison, along with roasted capons and ducks. There was pasta with b.u.t.ter and freshly grated cheese, and green salad. Several loaves of newly baked breads were scattered on each table, along with b.u.t.ter. And when the main meal had been cleared away, bowls of fresh fruit were offered, including individual little bowls of mixed berries that were for the high board alone. As the duke had promised it was a very simple meal.

The entertainment was quiet, just a few musicians playing softly in a small gallery above the hall itself. Francesca had been introduced to Rafaello upon being seated. She greeted him politely and even gave him a small smile. But following Terza's advice it was the duke she engaged in conversation for much of the meal. Rafaello did not know whether to be amused or offended, but how could he take offense because she spoke with his father?

The diners descended from the dais, and now it was the duke who drew Francesca forward to introduce her to the two other girls. "This, my child, is Aceline Marie du Barry," Duke t.i.tus said. He reached for the French girl's hand and brought her so that she stood before Francesca. "She is the daughter of the Comte du Barry, who makes his home in the Franche-Comte."

Francesca curtsied politely to the French girl, noting that she was very pretty with her shiny deep brown hair and rosy complexion. "I am pleased to meet you, mademoiselle," the silk merchant's daughter said in perfect French.

"You may speak to me in your own language," Aceline replied, surprised that Francesca spoke French and had been polite enough to use it. She curtsied back. What a b.i.t.c.h, she thought irritably as she stepped back so Duke t.i.tus might bring the other girl forth for introductions.

"And this, my dear Francesca, is Louisa Maria di Genoa, of the Duke of Genoa's family," the old man said.

"I'm so glad to meet you at last," Louisa said, curtsying. "I want to hear all about Florence. I've never been outside of Genoa until now."