Francesca (32 page)

“We will not leave Terreno Boscoso,” she said, knowing that would both surprise and please him. “We will seek refuge in the forest. You never appointed another to run the huntsmen’s inn. Alonza’s former serving girl will run it along with her husband, Carlo. We will be safe there, and it is unlikely the French will find us even if they look.”

“Are any of the huntsmen still there?” Rafaello wondered aloud.

“Surely there are, for the efforts we made to stop the French did not concern them. They live year round in the forest, coming into the town to sell their skins and other wares in the early summer, then returning to the woodlands. They need only the inn’s shelter in the winter months. The autumn is deepening, and it is that time of year when Alonza returned to make their habitation welcoming. They will be relieved to find the inn still available to them. None of them, I will wager, has ever seen the duke. How many years did you play at being Carlo, my lord? Since you were a boy?”

“Only Bernardo suspected my identity, though he never asked me directly.”

“He will not betray you,” Francesca said. “He is a good man.”

“I suppose the forest is as good a place as any, then. Soon it will be winter and we will have a safe place. Who will we take with us?”

“Those who have remained in the castle, if they choose to go. If they prefer to seek refuge with their families, then so be it. We will let them go. They are the loyalist of the loyal. Captain Arnaldo must know, but, then, he is free, as are his few remaining men, to offer their skills where they choose. No one can know where we are going. Those who come with us must trust us.”

“Can you cook?” he asked her, smiling.

“Enough to feed the huntsmen this winter. We must take as much of the castle’s supplies with us as we can carry. I believe the cook will come with us. She has no family remaining. No one will go hungry,” Francesca said.

“When do you want to go?” he asked her.

“Today! Tomorrow! As quickly as we can escape. The longer we remain, the more danger we face,” Francesca said.

He was not certain that they really faced that much danger from the Comte du Barry, but a man-at-arms was caught lowering a rope to two men in a boat below the walls. Called to the battlements, the duke sent the traitor over the walls into the water below. Then, without a word, he left Captain Arnaldo, who was grinning broadly, and the remaining men-at-arms, who after a minute or two burst into laughter to see their former compatriot splashing in the moat below. On their captain’s command the men-at-arms took their bows and aimed down at the three men, and loosed their arrows, killing two of the trio. The survivor clambered up the moat embankment and ran for his life.

Francesca spoke with the remaining servants one by one. Piero, the castle’s majordomo, and the duke’s valet, Fidelio, decided that they should prefer to return to their families. The cook, Roza, and Matteo decided they would take their chances with the duke and his wife. Terza, of course, would remain with her mistress, although Francesca offered to fund her passage back to Florence.

“And what would I do there?” Terza demanded to know.

“My mother would take you back into her household,” Francesca said. “Our life is going to change, and perhaps not for the better.”

“I would rather toil for you, my lady, than for your mother. Besides, the
signora
does not need another mouth to feed with things the way they are these days in Florence. At least if one is to believe her letters.”

“Very well, and bless you for remaining with me.” Francesca said.

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

“I will tell you, but only you shall know before we reach our destination. The huntsmen’s inn in the forest. The duke did not replace Alonza when she departed with her family. Few know of the inn’s existence and we should be safe there. The huntsmen will come in from the woodlands soon for the winter. We will feed them and care for them,” Francesca explained. “I know what is required, having spent a winter there.”

“The men did not know you were the duke’s bride,” Terza said slowly. “So they will not know you are the
duchessa
. But what of the duke?”

“The winter I lived at the inn he masqueraded as a huntsman called Carlo. It was a persona he had used since he was a boy. Carlo was in love with Alonza’s serving girl, Cara,” the
duchessa
explained to her servant. “It is not likely anyone will consider it odd that he wed her and together they now manage the inn. Carlo can hunt with the others this fall and winter. Come spring we will know better what our final fate is to be.”

Terza nodded. She already understood, and she knew that Francesca comprehended that their fate would be to remain in the forest or eventually, when the French felt secure in Terreno Boscoso, to make their way to the Pietro d’Angelos in Florence. No one had helped the young duke, and it was unlikely that anyone would now. Especially when he and his wife disappeared from the castle. She wished there was another choice, but Terza knew that the Comte du Barry, like his daughter, was vengeful. He wanted Rafaello and Francesca dead. His family had been insulted when the young duke had refused the comte’s noble daughter in favor of the daughter of a Florentine silk merchant. Aceline’s subsequent tragedy had insulted the du Barrys further, and the duke of Terreno Boscoso must be held responsible. Terza sighed deeply.

“Why do you sigh so?” Francesca asked her.

“Alas, mistress, there is no hope,” Terza replied gloomily.

“There is always hope,” Francesca told her softly. “Now call Roza, and let us pack what we can.”

For the next few days the three women carefully went through Francesca’s wardrobe. Other than her undergarments, night garments, and stockings, there was little they might take. The clothing of a
duchessa
was hardly appropriate for that of an innkeeper’s wife. Her riding breeches would be worn, and fortunately she had only one cloak that was much too fancy. Two others were good, plain wool lined in rabbit fur. They divided the task among them now. Terza and Roza set to work fashioning and sewing several skirts, blouses, and one plain gown in the event such a garment would be needed. Her plain leather slippers and her boots would do for her feet. She had ribbons and two simple veils for her head, as well as a few pairs of gloves. Within a few days they had a proper amount and style of garments for the
duchessa
in her guise of an innkeeper.

“What are we to do with your jewelry?” Terza asked.

“I will take it with me and hide it at the inn. I will not leave it here for the French to find and rob,” Francesca said as they packed the soft saddlebags that would carry their personal belongings. “Has Fidelio seen to the duke’s clothing?”

Her husband’s valet and the majordomo would not leave the castle until after the duke and
duchessa
had departed. Since there were no French inside the castle it was unlikely anyone would even realize they were missing for several days. Captain Arnaldo and his men-at-arms would remain for at least a week, and then disappear in the dark of a moonless night. The drawbridge would remain up. When their enemies finally realized that the castle was empty, it would take a great deal of cleverness on their part to get in.

The night set for their departure was colder than previous nights had been. The duke invited Captain Arnaldo to dine with them in the hall at the high board. A simple hot meal was served of a vegetable and meat soup, venison, a simple pasta dish mixed with butter and herbs, the last of the autumn peas, bread, and cheese. There was a good red wine to drink. When they had finally satisfied their appetites the duke spoke quietly to his captain.

“You will find a bag of coins in my library with which to pay the men when they are dismissed. I know they were paid at St. Michael’s for the year they just served. This will be my gift to them for the year ahead, though they will seek places elsewhere. There is a smaller bag for you, my friend. We are grateful for your steadfast loyalty over the years. Make certain that the men depart in the dark of night. You are safe within the castle as long as you can keep the Comte du Barry’s assassins out. He will not, I suspect, attempt to breach these walls again soon after his last experience, but one cannot be certain. He must act before Commander d’Aumont returns.”

“My lord,” the captain replied, “I know that the men will be grateful for your great kindness to them. I will not ask you even now where you go, for I am no fool, and know that even I could be broken under torture. If I know nothing I can say nothing.”

“Do not get caught by the French, then,” the duke advised wryly.

“I am going north to the Swiss states,” the captain said. “I will find a plain-faced daughter of some family willing to take an old man for a husband, marry her, and settle down. I am forty now, my lord, and have spent my life soldiering. I want children and a warm hearth. The Swiss are a peaceable folk.”

The duke nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I wish you good fortune, my friend.” The two men shook hands.

“When will you go, my lord? It threatens rain later tonight.”

“So much the better,” the duke replied. “The French will keep to the town and not concern themselves overmuch with the castle. Have the horses brought to the secret door for us. Use only the most trustworthy men. There will be six of us and a packhorse.”

“What hour?” Captain Arnaldo asked.

“Midnight,” the duke replied.

“They will be there when you come,” the captain promised. He bowed to the duke and said, “I wish you and our beautiful
duchessa
buona fortuna
, my lord. God go with you. The blessed Virgin protect you.” Then, turning, he stepped down from the dais and hurried off.

The duke went down into the kitchens, where the cook toiled alone now.

“My lord!” she greeted him.

“We go tonight, Balbina. Come to the hall at the midnight hour,” he told her. “Leave your fires banked as you normally would.”

“The rope will be strong, my lord, will it not?” she asked him. “I am a very sturdy woman, I fear. What if it breaks with my weight and I am pitched into a dark moat?”

“’Tis true you are as plump as an Easter goose, Balbina,” the duke teased her, “but we will not be leaving in that manner. There will be no chance of you getting wet unless it rains. You must trust me. Are you still certain you wish to go with us?”

“Oh yes, my lord!” Balbina the cook exclaimed. “I am not young any longer, but neither am I old. I think I might have at least one adventure in my life before I die.”

He chuckled. “Aye, every woman should have at least one adventure,” he agreed. “With God’s blessing on us this will not be a big one, and within two or three days we will reach safety.” He gave her a grin. “Midnight!” he repeated, and left her.

Balbina watched him go, surprised by the conversation that had just passed. The young duke had always been polite, but tonight he had seemed almost friendly—nay, he had seemed most companionable.

Rafaello found the hall empty when he reached it. He hurried upstairs to his wife’s apartments and found Francesca alone in her dayroom. Bending, he put an arm about her and kissed the lips she offered him. “We will leave at midnight,” he told her as he sat down next to her on the settle before the fire.

“In the dark? How will we find our way?” she asked him.

“We will light our way by a small lantern. It will be slow going, but we will be deep in the forest and several miles from the castle by daylight,” he explained.

She nodded. “I understand. How do we get across the moat in the dark?”

“It is not known, but the moat was dug very shallowly in one spot so anyone using the hidden door could cross easily. But it is only four feet in width, so you must guide your horse cautiously, being careful not to stray from the easy depth, or your mount will find himself swimming. I shall have Matteo lead Balbina, for she is the least skilled of our riders. Crossing water in the dark is a dangerous business.”

“I understand,” Francesca said. Then she began to cry softly.

“My love,” he exclaimed. “What is it?” He tightened his arm about her shoulders.

“Nothing,” she said. “I am being foolish, of course. I suppose the reality of our situation is finally making itself known. But we must survive! I will not allow that arrogant Frenchman to see us dead! He has cost us our duchy, our home, but he will not cost us our lives, Rafaello. We will live and triumph despite him! And I will have my revenge upon him one day for this injustice. I will! If I did not repay Raoul du Barry in kind I should not be my mother’s daughter.
But I am
. He will live to regret this.”

Chapter 16

T
he midnight hour came, and the duke’s little party met in the hall. They were all dressed for travel. With a final glance about his family’s home Rafaello Cesare led them into the deepest cellar, down a corridor, and finally into a small passage, a lantern held tightly in his hand to light their way. They followed him quickly, silently until they reached the little door in the castle wall. Reaching up, the duke took down a key from an alcove in the wall. He unlocked the door. Neither the key nor the hinges made any sound. They stepped out into the dark chilly night to find Captain Arnaldo waiting alone with the seven horses needed.

The duke looked questioningly at his captain, and the man shrugged, nodding his head slightly. The duke nodded, knowing that somewhere in the dark on that small bit of dry land was the body of the man-at-arms who had helped bring the horses. Captain Arnaldo had taken no chances, making him the only one to know that the duke and his family had gone. The horses were quickly assigned, and they mounted. The duke handed his captain the key,
said a soft “
Mille grazie
,” and then led the way across the narrow moat passage to the other side.

Sadly watching them go, Captain Arnaldo reached into the darkness and finding the body of his late man-at-arms, dragged it slowly and quietly into the passage. Then stepping in himself, he locked the door and replaced the key in its wall alcove. Without another glance at the dead man-at-arms he returned through the narrow passage to the cellar and barred the entry to the secret passage with a large, tall chest.

Outside a soft but cold rain had begun to fall. The duke slowly led the way to the barely discernible path that led them into the forest. No one spoke. They rode very slowly and cautiously along the narrow track. The rain continued to fall, but it fell lightly. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable. After several hours the sky began to lighten, revealing a gray rainy morning. Finally they stopped to rest the horses.

Balbina offered them bread, cold meat, and cheese to eat. Both men and women took the opportunity to relieve themselves before remounting and continuing along their way.

By midafternoon the skies were brightening. Only the duke knew where they were. His companions could only follow trustingly. Reaching a small clearing as the sun began to set, Rafaello Cesare signaled his little party to a stop. “We will spend the night here,” he told them as he dismounted. “We can have no fire, for I do not wish to attract attention. Fix your bed spaces now, and we will eat. Once the night sets in we must be silent again. Matteo, help me secure the horses. You will have the first watch, and at the midnight hour I will take the second, until dawn,” the duke told the serving man.

The horses were eventually fastened tightly to two trees in the center of the clearing. The riders would sleep about them on one side. Their saddles had been removed, and they were taken to the little stream bordering one side to drink, then fed before they were made fast. The travelers sat upon their saddles, which had been set on the damp ground so they might eat. Balbina brought out a large roasted capon and more bread and cheese for their meal.

“There is only bread and cheese remaining for the rest of our journey, my lord,” she told the duke. “I could carry only so much.”

“You’ve done well,” he praised her. Then he looked about the little group. “Now I must speak to you about where we are going and how you must behave from now on.” Reaching out, he took Francesca’s hand in his and kissed it, smiling faintly at her. “Deep in this forest my grandfather had many years ago a small inn raised so that his huntsmen would have shelter in the winter months. It was available to the men once the cold weather set in, and then was shut up each spring,” he explained. “The old innkeeper, Alonza by name, is no longer able to take care of her responsibilities. Before he died my father let her return to her family, and I never managed to arrange for another innkeeper.

“The French, as you know, wish the
duchessa
and me dead and gone. If we survive I may live to retake my duchy one day. But if I cannot retake the duchy, then my wife and I will survive. You have chosen to survive with us. The duke’s huntsmen know me as Carlo, one of them. They have no idea I am Duke Titus’s son, or that the man they have always known as Carlo is now their duke. But until the French leave Terreno Boscoso there is no duke. Carlo and his wife, Cara, will manage the inn this winter. What will happen in the spring I cannot say.

“From this moment on you will not address my wife and I as
my lord
and
my lady
. We are Carlo and Cara, even to you, as you are Matteo, Balbina, Terza, and Roza to us. The inn is not the castle. Our identities must remain a secret from any seeking shelter at the inn. Do you understand, my friends?”

“But what will we do at the inn?” Matteo asked. He couldn’t quite address the duke yet by a Christian name.

“You and I will hunt until it becomes too cold. We will care for the horses. Alonza’s nephew usually brings a cow, so we may have butter and cream. He will hopefully do so this autumn, having not been told otherwise. We have my wife’s dogs with us to help with the hunting.” Reaching out, he patted one of the greyhounds’ heads. “The women will do what women do. Balbina will cook and Francesca will help her. Terza and Roza will keep the inn clean. Francesca can tell you how Alonza managed, for it was at the inn she hid from me before our marriage.”

“We will be safe,” Francesca said to them. “Only the hunters know of the inn, and there is no real road traversing this forest.”

The night had set in now. They could barely see one another. The women lay down to sleep. The duke dozed, and Matteo kept watch. Near midnight the moon broke through the clouds. Rafaello rose and told Matteo to sleep. He kept watch through the rest of the night, though it was not easy. He was chilled and damp. In the first gray of the new day the moon had disappeared and it was beginning to rain again. He roused his companions. They ate their bread and cheese, and began on their way again.

The next night was as uncomfortable. No one spoke for fear of complaining, and the situation they faced couldn’t be changed. The bread was stale now and the cheese dry, but it was all they had to eat.

Finally in the early afternoon of that third day they reached the inn. It was silent and it was obvious that they were the first to arrive since Alonza had departed that previous spring. Francesca looked upon the inn with surprisingly fond eyes. She had certainly never expected to see it again, much less come to manage it. She smiled to herself as she dismounted her horse, wondering what her elegant mother would think of this situation that her second daughter, the
duchessa
, found herself in now. Orianna would not be pleased. One daughter a Turkish prince’s third wife, and another a fugitive. Francesca knew her mother had wanted, nay, had expected, better things for her children.

“Matteo, you may find some critters have taken up residence in the stable. Could you clear them out for us, and then settle the horses?”

“Yes, m— Cara,” he answered her uncomfortably.

She laughed, seeing his chagrin. “You will get used to it, Matteo,” she told him.

Then she turned to the three women. “Come along and let us see the condition the inn is now in. But Alonza usually left it neat.” Going over to the front door of the building, she bent and lifted a flowerpot by the door and slid out a key. Then, fitting it into the inn’s main door, she ushered them inside. “We need to freshen the rooms. Open all the windows. Balbina, come along and I will show you the kitchen. It isn’t as big as you are used to, but you will find it does nicely.”

Rafaello stood watching her admiringly. “What shall I do?” he asked her.

“We will need wood for the fireplaces,” she told him. Then she turned away to rejoin the other women.

By nightfall the horses had been stabled and were fed. There were fires in the inn’s fireplaces. Terza would have Francesca’s old chamber. Balbina and Roza would share a small windowed chamber off the kitchens. Matteo had an alcove with a cot off the large dining hall. Francesca had allotted Alonza’s old chamber to her husband and herself. It would require refurbishing, but for tonight it would do. The bed, while not as large as the ducal bed, was commodious enough for the lovers.

“I always wondered what this chamber looked like,” Rafaello murmured to her that night as they snuggled together.

“We will have to make a new mattress for it as soon as possible,” Francesca said. “I cannot help but remember Alonza and Bernardo pleasuring each other in this bed. The walls are not so thick that vigorous and noisy lovers can’t be heard,” she giggled. “We must remember that Terza is now in the little chamber next to us.”

His answer was to pull her night garment down and fasten his mouth onto her breast, suckling hard.

“Rafaello!” she gasped.

He lifted his head and she saw the passionate lust in his eyes. “How many weeks has it been since I have had the pleasure of your body?” he asked her softly.

“I was always there for you,” she murmured, her fingers in his dark auburn hair.

“Be truthful, my love. Neither of us could feel passion given our circumstances, our fears for our people, for the duchy, for our own lives,” he replied low. His hand was sliding along her leg as he pushed up the fabric of her garment. “We are safe now, however, and I find my appetite for you has but increased. Take this damned thing off before I tear it off.”

“Do not, for I have nothing to replace it with, Rafaello, my love,” she said. Her heart was beating wildly as she pulled off the garment. She liked it when he was less civilized, and the beard he now wore made him look older, fiercer.

“Carlo,”
he reminded her. “Rafaello no longer exists for you, Cara. It is Carlo. Only Carlo who kisses you, who takes you in his arms, who will fuck you.” Then he was kissing her a wicked deep kiss, his tongue running along lips that opened eagerly to him so he might plunge into her warm mouth and taste her.

She met his hot probing organ with her own dancing tongue. They fenced, she caught him and sucked hard, her hands caressing his naked back and buttocks. He groaned, and, escaping her, began to kiss her eyes, her face, her throat. He placed his palm over her mound and squeezed it. “Oh, Carlo!” she gasped.

Satisfied that he once again had the upper hand he let a long finger slide along her hot wet slit. “Shameless. Shameless,” he whispered in her ear as he took a brief moment to nibble the lobe. She pressed up against the finger. “I know what you want, Cara. But of course I might be wrong, so you must tell me in your own words what it is that would please you, my love.” The finger slipped easily between her nether lips to find the tiny nub of flesh that when stroked properly could send her to heaven.

“Yes!” she gasped.

“Yes, what?” he teased as he found what he sought and began to worry it.

Francesca closed her eyes and just let the deliciousness of his touch there fill her with pleasure. “Yes!” she repeated, “and yes again!”

He ceased the delicate torture. “Naughty one, you must tell me what it is you want before I will continue further.”

“Do not be cruel, my Carlo,” she purred at him.

“Tell me!” he insisted.

“I want you to play with me until I am filled with a lust that only your cock can cure. I want you to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me until I am mindless with my pleasure. But I want you to know pleasure too, my Carlo,” Francesca told him. “I am not entirely greedy. Just a little bit.”

“I think my finger will not be enough tonight,” he told her. Then he was between her legs, drawing her open to him, his tongue finding her.

“Madre di Dios,”
Francesca gasped, as his tongue touched her in that sensitive secret place again and again and again. “Ohhh! It is too much! Too much!”

His tongue continued to torture her with wicked little flicks, slow, slow, and then faster and faster. Her female fragrance filled his nostrils, rousing his lust even more.

“I will die of this!” Francesca gasped.

“Shall I stop?” he asked her.