Francesca (31 page)

He did so, unable to hide his admiring glances. “Madam
la duchesse
, I am honored that you would agree to greet me.”

“Thank you,” Francesca said sweetly. “Is it the gold mine in the north, Commander, that your master wants from us?” she asked him innocently.

Commander d’Aumont’s mouth fell open with his surprise.

“The northern mine?” Rafaello repeated. “There’s nothing in it. It hasn’t been worked in more than fifty years! King Louis has invaded my country for a mine that no longer produces? Who the hell told him we had a working gold mine?”

“Our dear and good friend the Comte du Barry,” Francesca answered her husband sarcastically. “Is that not so, Commander?”

The Frenchman quickly overcame his surprise. “My lord, I can neither confirm nor deny such a suggestion.”

“Commander, you are more than free to send someone to the mine and see for yourself,” the duke told him. “The mine is useless. It has not been worked in half a century. Du Barry has put his king in an embarrassing position by invading my duchy on a foolish pretext.”

“I will send someone to your mine,” the commander said. “And then, having assured myself that the mine is useless, I will send to King Louis.”

“We tell all who will listen that the comte told his king that the duke of Milan’s guardians were threatening France by planning to march through Terreno Boscoso. It was therefore natural that King Louis would protect himself by making the first move. Your king’s reputation will be saved and the comte’s ruined, and when your troops withdraw all will be well again,” Francesca said. “After all, your men have done little damage,” Francesca told her two companions.

“Your wife is most clever, my lord,” the commander said admiringly.

“Yes, she is,” Rafaello agreed.

“I will take half a dozen men and visit this mine myself,” d’Aumont said. “Then I shall send a report to King Louis.” He bowed to them both. “Do you suppose I might be lowered by your rope conveyance back to my boat in the moat rather than tossed into the water below?”

Rafaello chuckled. “Your charm and good manners have certainly earned you that small respect. I shall accompany you myself to the battlements.”

Commander d’Aumont bowed to Francesca. “Madam, it has been my pleasure,” he said. Then, turning, he followed the duke from the hall.

When Rafaello returned she awaited him. “How did you know about the mine?” he asked her.

“Matteo told me as we tried to consider what King Louis really wanted,” she answered her husband.

“It was a masterful stroke, my love, and you may very well have saved the duchy,” Rafaello told her. “Thank you.”

They thought, they hoped, that in a few weeks it would be over. The French would learn the single small gold mine in the north of the duchy was worthless at this point. But then Matteo came to them with troubling news. His grandmother had been one of the elderly who had remained in her home, and that home had been confiscated by the Comte du Barry. Neither the comte nor those Frenchmen surrounding him paid the old woman any mind, and so it was she had learned that du Barry held an order of execution for the duke and his wife.

Matteo’s grandmother had overheard the comte planning to act upon this order while the commander was away. She had heard him arguing with d’Aumont about it before he left the town to investigate the old mine. The order, it seemed, was only to be acted upon if the duke refused to cooperate with the French. Commander d’Aumont had argued that his meeting with the duke had been productive and the duke had invited the French to inspect the mine themselves, claiming it was worthless now. The comte, however, while pretending to reconsider, was even now arranging for assassins to enter the castle and slay Rafaello and Francesca.

“She sent me word that she must see me,” Matteo said, “and then told me all of this when I visited her yesterday, my lord.”

“Du Barry wastes his time,” Rafaello said. “No one can get into the castle with the drawbridge up. It is not possible.”

“There is the hidden door to the cellar,” Francesca reminded him.

“And it is well hidden,” Rafaello said. “Few are aware of it, and no one is permitted to use it. Even Matteo must be lowered to the moat and a small boat to visit with his grandmother. He went and returned before dawn so that no one saw him.”

“Nonetheless,” Francesca told her husband, “we must be wary. We can trust few, my lord. Even a loyal heart can be tempted by a rich bribe or a wicked threat against a loved one.”

“Which is why I sent almost all the servants away before the French arrived. Only the cook, Matteo, Piero, Fidelio, Terza, and Roza remain. I do not question the loyalty of any of these few,” Rafaello told her.

“There are Captain Arnaldo and those few men-at-arms who remain,” she reminded him. “Can you vouch so assuredly for them, my lord? I do not like this at all.”

“Do you believe that I do?” he demanded, irritated.

“We cannot remain,” Francesca said to him. “We have to go where we cannot be found until the French depart. Until the Comte du Barry and this threat on our lives is gone for good. He wants revenge, but he would find if he took it against us he would still not feel at ease. He knows his parsimony is what is responsible for his daughter’s tragedy. If he had given her more men-at-arms to watch over her the bandits would have not attacked her train, or have been driven off if they did.”

“Go where?” he asked her. “We are more at risk outside the castle than in it.”

“Are we? I wonder,” she replied. “I must think on it.” She would not allow that arrogant Frenchman to ruin her life. Not now. Especially not now. Despite Aceline’s terrible lies against Rafaello, Francesca felt sympathy for the girl. How could she not when Aceline’s life had been ruined while hers had flourished and been filled with love?

“You have that look on your face,” Terza said to her mistress later.

“What look?” Francesca asked her.

“The look that says you are planning something that perhaps you should not,” Terza replied.

“We are in danger here in the castle,” Francesca told her serving woman. “The French comte has his king’s permission to murder us. Rafaello says we are safe because the castle is inviolate, but we are Florentines, you and I, Terza. We know better.”

Terza nodded. “What are we to do?” she asked. “Can we go back to Florence?”

“If we deserted Terreno Boscoso the people would be heartbroken. The French are sure to withdraw once they learn there is no gold to be had in the northern mine. But we cannot sit here while we wait for King Louis to realize his error.”

“Kings do not acknowledge their errors,” Terza said wisely. “And what if the French refuse to depart despite the lack of wealth? He is certain to look the fool for being persuaded by the Comte du Barry to this folly. He could simply decide to retain this little duchy rather than appear a greedy dupe. To do that he needs its ducal family gone, my lady. The duke has refused to give the French king his fealty. Therefore he must be eliminated. I believe that we must flee for our lives, but it is unlikely the duke will be able to regain his position. There can be no continued loyalty to the Cesare family if King Louis would rule here peaceably,” Terza explained. “This Comte du Barry will have his revenge against you and the duke after all, and there is nothing you can do to stop it but save yourselves. But where can you go where you will not be known?”

The terrible truth of their position hit Francesca as she listened and absorbed her faithful Terza’s words. At first she didn’t want to believe what she had heard, but then she realized her serving woman was correct. She saw their situation through a different eye. It would be difficult to explain it to Rafaello. He would not believe her. He was not a strong man, but, then, the men in his family had grown less like their founding ancestor as the centuries had passed. They had lived in peace even when there was war all around them. They were not weak, for they had governed their little duchy well through the years. They were simply naive in thinking it would always remain the same in Terreno Boscoso while all about them the world had been changing.

For a brief moment Francesca was overwhelmed by fear, but then she pushed it back. It was up to her to see that they survived. That the Cesares survived even if it wasn’t as rulers of this duchy. Rafaello was her husband. She loved him. She would not allow the Comte du Barry’s insane desire for revenge to hurt them.
Madre di Dios
! How much I have changed, Francesca thought. Her desire for survival for herself and her family suddenly far outweighed her need to be important. If they must lose the duchy, then so be it. Convincing Rafaello of this, of course, would take more time than they had right now. The important first step must be taken. To escape their own castle and hide themselves where they could not be found.

“Where can we go?” Terza asked her mistress.

“The forest,” Francesca said without hesitation. “The French will not seek us there. They will assume we are attempting to make our way to Florence.”

“But how will we live?” Terza queried.

“We will secrete ourselves at the huntsmen’s inn,” Francesca told her. “Alonza fled with her family before the French arrived. She had told Duke Titus before he died that she was too old to care for his huntsmen any longer. She would go one more winter, and then he must find someone else. He gifted her for her time and agreed. But then his life came to an end, and with the French threat Rafaello did nothing, although he meant to do so. It is autumn, and in a few weeks the huntsmen remaining will seek their winter shelter. They will find Alonza’s former serving woman has taken over, along with a huntsman known as Carlo. Those remaining among our personal servants may join us or seek their families. We must go quickly, for it will be several weeks before Commander d’Aumont returns. The comte will attempt our end before he returns. D’Aumont is a reasonable man. He is loyal to his king but not unfair. Matteo’s grandmother heard him arguing fiercely with the comte and forbidding him any action against us, but once he departed for the north the comte began his treachery against us.”

“When I think of how kind you were to his wretched daughter,” Terza said indignantly.

“He failed Aceline, causing her misery. He believes by revenging himself on us he has restored himself as her paternal champion.”

“It will change nothing,” Terza said angrily. Then she calmed herself. “What shall we take with us?” she asked.

“Wait until I have discussed this with the duke,” Francesca replied.

“He will not be easy to convince if indeed you can convince him at all, my lady.”

“I know,” Francesca said. “But convince him I must.”

“Are you mad?” Rafaello said when Francesca broached the subject of fleeing. “I will not desert my people!”

“Oh, I see,” Francesca said. “You will leave them with the memory of a martyr instead. The last duke whose enemies will probably not even have the courtesy to bury him in the family crypt. They will murder you and then hang your handsome body in the town’s main square for all to see and the crows to feast upon. One day they will cut you down and bury you in an unmarked grave. You will be forgotten. At least hidden away you keep the hope of your people alive, though it will make no difference, really. The French cannot leave the duchy as if nothing has happened. King Louis will look the fool.”

“What are you saying? That I will never have my birthright back? That the French will retain this land?” He was both angry and confused.

Francesca sighed. Her husband was passionate and he was sweet. He had been a good ruler as long as there had been peace, but the rulers of Terreno Boscoso had lived a charmed existence for centuries. They did not know how to deal with a situation requiring them to act decisively. But, then, she was being unfair. Rafaello had managed to get his townsfolk to safety. He knew not what else to do. Francesca knew that swearing fealty to the French king would have done no good. Louis believed there was an endless supply of gold to be had in Terreno Boscoso, and that was what he really wanted. He could not simply accept the duke’s allegiance and then take his gold. He would have to absorb the duchy into his own territories, using the excuse that he needed quicker access into the Italian states, should they attack him. It was an impossible situation, and she wasn’t certain she could make Rafaello understand.

“The French have put themselves in an untenable position, my lord,” she began, “and great kings do not like being publicly embarrassed. Remaining here puts us in great danger from the Comte du Barry. Fleeing where he cannot find us gives us the chance of survival and when King Louis learns there is no gold, that he has been misled in the comte’s effort at revenge, we have at the least foiled and disgraced du Barry.”

“Small compensation,” Rafaello grumbled.

“We can eventually see him dead,” Francesca murmured. “He is not a nice fellow, and it is very possible he will eat or drink something that does not agree with him.”

He looked sharply at her. “Poison?” he said.

“Did I say such a thing?” she responded, smiling. “Nay, my lord, but badly treated servants will sometimes revenge themselves.”

“Especially if they are bribed to do so,” he chuckled. She suddenly amused him. He would never have expected his beautiful and passionate wife to even consider such a thing, but, then, she was a Florentine, and her mother did not lack intelligence. Though she would deny it Francesca was much like her mother. Devoted to her family and willing to do what she must to protect that family. He doubted, however, that his mother-in-law had ever been faced with such a difficult situation. “I don’t like the idea of going into hiding,” he said quietly.

“It is for your people. We must survive, Rafaello,” Francesca told him, thinking even as she spoke the lie that they must live for themselves, for the children they would eventually have, please God. It was unlikely he would ever rule Terreno Boscoso again. It would become part of France, but for now the first step was getting them safely from the castle and to the inn.

“Where can we go?” he asked her. “Even if we got to Florence we would be highly visible exiles.”