Lucianna

by Bertrice Small

  Robert Minton chuckled. “What a vixen, volpe femina, you are, my Lucianna.”

  Luca returned home in midafternoon.

  “Why have you departed the shop so early?” she demanded of him. “When you return home, our father will not allow such a thing.”

  “Baram is there to close up, and there is little business on a sunny summer’s day,” he said. “I will take my meal, and then go to the tavern to see if I can conclude this business so I am free to return to Florence. I am not of a mind to endure another English winter.”

  Lucianna shook her head. Well, he would shortly be her father’s problem. Giovanni Pietro d’Angelo would not tolerate a second son ignoring his business. He would take Luca in hand, and Lucianna almost laughed. Their seemingly gentle father could be very hard when he wanted something, and he wanted his world to run smoothly.

  Why were her siblings so troublesome? Marco, with more interest in his mistresses than his trade. Bianca, running off with an infidel. Francesca, widowed and refusing to marry again. Her youngest sister, Giulia, insisting that everyone now call her by her second Christian name, Serena, and refusing to answer to any other. Only Giorgio and she could be called respectful children. Then she reconsidered. Well, perhaps only Giorgio. She had, after all, wed without gaining their blessing first, although she knew that her father would be pleased, for he had really sent her to England for the purpose of seeing if the Earl of Lisle truly loved her. Though her mother would fuss, she would be content to have her third daughter wed into the nobility, even if it was English nobility. And to a close personal friend of its king, moreover. Oh yes, Orianna would give them her blessing as well.

  Luca took his meal with them, and then arose to go.

  “Be careful,” Lucianna cautioned him, but said nothing more.

  He bent by her chair, kissing her cheek. “You worry too much, Sister mine,” he teased gently. Then with a nod to his brother-in-law, Luca left them.

  “I wish we could go home,” Lucianna said. “I feel safer at Wye Court than I do in London now.”

  He nodded. “I am not much for the city either,” he agreed, “but Lady Margaret has asked us to remain, and so we must. Tomorrow we shall go to court to be seen. It would seem odd if we did not.”

  “And if Lady Margaret and her ladies are there, you will point out this wench she thought to wed you to, my lord?”

  “If you promise me you will not scratch her eyes out,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “I merely wish to see this creature the king’s mother thought would make an acceptable wife for you,” Lucianna told him. “You cannot deny me my curiosity, Roberto. I am a woman, after all.”

  The earl chuckled. She was indeed a woman—his woman, and he could imagine being wed to no other.

  Lucianna could not sleep that night until she heard her brother’s footfall upon the stairs and knew he was safely home. This business in which he had found himself frightened her. How could anyone seriously considering overthrowing Henry Tudor think such a mindless plan as freeing the young Earl of Warwick from the Tower would be successful? The boy was very well guarded, since he could indeed prove a threat to the king’s tenure as England’s king.

  And why would anyone want to involve a foreigner in such a plot? The only reason she could think of was to place blame elsewhere, but why Luca? Had it been a simple coincidence? Or did someone, as she had previously considered, seek to tarnish the Earl of Lisle’s good name and friendship with the king? Lucianna sighed, and resigned herself to the fact she might never have the answer to her questions.

  Fortunately, much of Lucianna’s wardrobe had remained in London, and so she had the proper garments to wear to court. It would hardly do to present herself looking like a country woman. For her first appearance at court, she decided to be elegant rather than subdued. The women would gossip more about her clothing than they would of her. Flawless manners would be appreciated, but for women it was her gown that would count.

  With this in mind, Lucianna chose one of deep green silk. Its square neckline with a panel that ran the gown’s length to its hem, the hem itself, and the cuffs on the gown’s wide sleeves were embroidered in a green-and-gold braid. As this shade of green and gold were the favored colors of the Tudor family, Lucianna’s choice subtly declared her loyalties to the ruler. The low-cut hip belt was of the embroidered material. She wore a single gold chain, at the end of which dangled a gold-and-ruby crucifix.

  Cleva had helped her to dress and was enthusiastic about her mistress’s choice as she slipped the round-toed shoes on Lucianna’s feet.

  “Will you come to London often, my lady?” she asked her.

  “Now and again,” Lucianna answered her, not wanting to disappoint and tell her housekeeper that she would never come if such a thing were possible. “I like Wye Court and the country. Yet I grew up in a city. Is that not odd? But you and the others will continue to keep the house for me. My family may wish to visit London now that I am to make my life in England.”

  Cleva was pleased to learn they should not all be put out on the street. “We shall endeavor to serve you in any way we can, my lady,” she answered, the relief in her voice evident.

  The earl approved his wife’s gown with a smile. “My clever Florentine wife,” was his pronouncement upon seeing her. He was dressed simply in silk hose, an embroidered doublet, a fine cotton shirt, and an ankle-length coat with wide, flared sleeves. His shoes were the finest leather, and from the gold chain he wore hung a pendant with his family’s insignia: a stallion with head and front leg bent as if bowing, and above it a small crown and the words Ever Faithful edging it. It wisely espoused no faction—just loyalty to the ruler.

  Lucianna curtsied, acknowledging his compliment. “I do not know if I like your looking so particularly handsome, my lord. Hearts have already been broken, if I am to believe your boasts,” she teased.

  “I could look no less elegant than my wife,” he countered, and they both laughed.

  Outside the house, the earl’s horse was waiting for him, as well as Flynt and Ford, Lucianna’s two litter bearers, smiling as they prepared to convey her. It seemed odd being carried through the streets again after riding from Wye Court, but it was a better mode of transportation, considering her gown.

  When she reached the palace, her husband was there to hand her out, having already dismounted so his animal might be brought to the stables. The litter bearers would join others of their ilk awaiting their masters and mistresses.

  “Your hand is like ice,” the earl noted.

  “I am perhaps a bit nervous,” Lucianna admitted. “Coming into a royal presence is new for me.”

  “I know you have met the Medici,” he answered, surprised.

  “That is different. Lorenzo is no king,” Lucianna replied, “and I have known him my whole life.”

  “I have known Henry Tudor most of my life,” he replied. “I will not deny he is majestic, but you need not fear him, and the queen is a very sweet young woman.” He rubbed the icy fingers between his two hands, and then he led her into the palace.

  Lucianna hardly noticed where they were going until she found herself in a hall filled with people. Her husband was greeted, and she was inspected by curious eyes as he led her to where the king sat, a pretty young woman on one side of him, his mother on the other. Robert bowed as Lucianna curtsied to the monarchs.

  “I did not expect to see you back in London so soon, Robert,” the king said to the earl.

  “There are matters we need to settle before we may retire to Wye Court, my liege,” the earl said. “May I present my bride to you?”

  Lucianna curtsied again as the king inclined his head towards her. “You are exceedingly pretty, madame,” he said. “My mother speaks highly of you. Her praise is not lightly given.”

  “The Lady Margaret’s favor honors me, Your Majesty,” Lucianna replied, with a
small smile.

  Her response pleased the king, who sent a fond look towards his parent. “You are most welcome at my court, Countess.”

  They had been recognized and approved. They moved away from the seated king.

  “Well done,” Robert murmured to her.

  “He is very serious,” Lucianna said. “Is he always so grave?”

  The earl nodded. “Even as a boy. He understood his situation far better than those about him did. He laughs now and again, but not often. His concern is for England, and for his family. He would not have any take him for less than he is,” Robert explained.

  “He said I was pretty. You say I am beautiful,” Lucianna said.

  “You are beautiful,” her husband replied. “The king is not given to hyperbole. That he said anything at all is an indication of his regard. He does not often offer compliments to any, let alone a woman.”

  “Do you see this wench of Lady Margaret’s here?” Lucianna asked him, pleased by his words.

  He chuckled, and then cast about to see if he might spy Cat Talcott. “Let me see,” he said, and was surprised to find her quickly. What was more, she was staring directly at him and Lucianna. “Do not make a show of looking, but she is there, just below the dais to the left,” he said softly. He found her gaze a bit unnerving.

  “The bold baggage in the lavender gown?” Lucianna asked him.

  He chuckled. So she had noticed the stare. “Yes, the maid in the lavender gown.”

  “I think her hair more the dun-color of a plow horse, not chestnut,” Lucianna said. “I am surprised Lady Margaret would have considered someone quite so ordinary for you.”

  “Her family connections are impressive,” he told her, struggling not to laugh. Lucianna’s jealousy had exhibited itself once again, and he was both flattered and amused by it.

  “They would have to be,” his wife responded dryly.

  Now he did laugh. “You are jealous,” he teased her.

  “I am.” She did not deny it. “I should be jealous of any woman who thought to have you for herself. You are mine, Roberto! Mine!”

  “It is fortunate then that you are the only woman for me,” the earl told her. “You are mine, amore mia. And only mine.”

  Now that they had paid their respects to the king, men who had known Robert Minton began coming up to him to be introduced to his beautiful new wife. She was paid extravagant compliments, and she found herself relaxing, laughing, and being admired for her charm and her wit. By the time the earl decided it was time to return home, Lucianna found herself less intimidated. She did notice, however, that there were very few women at this court, and afterwards she asked her husband why.

  “The reign is new,” he explained, “and it is still not secure. While their lords have been fighting all these years, the women have remained at home holding their estates, guarding their children. Many have never even been to court. The adherents of the Lancasters did not, as a rule, populate the court of York. In time that will change, when it becomes apparent that King Henry will not be overcome by any, but for now, most of the ladies you will see belong to either Lady Margaret’s or the queen’s households.”

  Lucianna could see the sense in that and nodded her understanding. “If everyone’s estates are as beautiful as Wye Court, I should not want to come to court,” she told him.

  “It pleases me to hear you say it,” Robert Minton admitted. “It has concerned me that, having been raised in a bustling city, you would miss London. I am glad you do not. Do you miss Florence, Lucianna?”

  She shook her head in the negative. “Not so much that you should change your plan to steal me away,” Lucianna teased him, but then seeing distress upon his handsome face, she added reassuringly, “My home is where you are, Roberto mio. I will always be content to be by your side, wherever that may be.”

  “No man should have a weakness,” he told her, “but you seem to be mine, amore mia.”

  Neither of them noticed Lady Margaret’s maid-in-waiting, Cat Talcott, watching them enviously.

  “He makes much of her,” a girl standing next to her said. Like all of Lady Margaret’s maids, she knew their mistress had once considered the Earl of Lisle as a possible husband for Cat. Cat had been furious when she learned the earl had married. Then, upon learning who it was he had wed, she had been even angrier.

  “You imagine it,” Cat replied tersely.

  “Give over, Cat,” her companion said. “Any fool can see they are in love with each other. I think it is very romantic.”

  “Love? Why would such a nebulous emotion brought about by the eagerness of cock and cunt to join have anything to do with a marriage? Marriage is about status, land, gold, and gaining new allies from other important families for your own.”

  “If all he wanted to do was couple with her,” the other girl said, “he would not have wed her, would he? And if she were as low as you persist in believing she is, she would have been honored and content to be just his mistress. Our good lady will find another for you, Cat. Or you will wed your father’s choice when you return home. Respectable women must be married, and you are already seventeen, the oldest of us all now. I expect you will go home before the winter.”

  “You know nothing,” Cat Talcott snapped at the girl. “I will have Lisle sooner than later, you may be certain. I do not mean to permit that foreign shopkeeper to have the earl I was promised.”

  “Lady Margaret never promised him to you,” her fellow maid-in-waiting said. “She said he might be an eligible choice since his lands are near your family’s, but she never promised he would be your husband. It was you who decided that, Cat Talcott, and frankly I am glad the earl married his true love. She is probably already with child. We are all right sick of hearing you brag how you would have the finest husband of us all.” Then the speaker left Cat Talcott staring at the departing figures of the Earl of Lisle and his bride.

  “Will you never learn to conceal your emotions?”

  She looked up to see her cousin, Sir Ralph Sand.

  “Do you still moon after your earl who isn’t your earl?” he taunted her wickedly. “His countess is quite a beauty. Even the king noticed and remarked upon it.”

  “You find her attractive? I think her features common,” Cat said.

  He laughed aloud. “Oh my, we are piqued, aren’t we?”

  “The king was being courteous,” Cat replied.

  “Courtesy is to greet a favored friend’s bride pleasantly, not remark to all listening on her beauty,” Cat’s cousin answered. “I doubt he would have had you anyway, and that should have proven far more embarrassing, my pet.”

  “I will have him in the end,” Cat told him. “No one takes what I have marked as mine.”

  “Indeed, Cousin? I should like to see just how you will accomplish your impossible goal,” and he laughed again.

  Chapter 15

  The plot in which Luca Pietro d’Angelo found himself involved seemed to drag on, reaching no conclusion. He was wary of questioning the conspirators too closely, lest they become suspicious of him. Luca attempted to withdraw his company from them.

  “I have studied your map of the Tower,” he said to them. “I have shown you the best way to enter unseen. You no longer need me.”

  “Nay,” the man who usually did the talking said, “we need you to come with us on the chance we lose our way.”

  “I know the way no better than you,” Luca said. “If your map is correct, then the way I have indicated to you is the best way. I can be involved no further, as I have no interest in who your king is. I will shortly return to my own city.”

  “But you are cleverer than we are, and you can speak with any we might meet without rousing suspicion,” the man protested.

  “If you are wise, you should avoid meeting anyone in that place, lest they know you are about some mischief,” Luca responded. “Y
ou asked me to find you an obscure way into this Tower of London. I have studied the plans you gave me, and indicated how you may go. I will do nothing more.” Then he pretended to grow suspicious of them. “Are you in the pay of that scurvy merchant from Milan? Do you seek to involve me further in your plot that I might bring dishonor on my guild?” he demanded to know, glaring at them.

  “No, no, good master!” the conspirator protested. “We know naught of whom you speak.”

  “Then who has put you up to this?” Luca insisted. “Neither of you, it would seem to me, should have a quarrel with your king, or any reason to commit treason, for this is treason of which you have been speaking. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  His two companions shrugged. “We mean no treason. We were approached by another who told us to ask for your aid,” the one who always spoke said finally.

  “What did he look like?” Luca asked.

  “’Twas not a man, good master. It was a serving woman,” came the answer that caught Luca by surprise. “We met her but once. She instructed us but once, and we saw her no more.”

  “Did not such an occurrence seem odd to you?” Luca queried.

  “She paid us each a gold piece,” the man explained. “I would do anything for that kind of coin, even if I cannot spend it. If others knew we had such wealth, they would think we had obtained it illegally, or seek to steal it from us.”

  Luca wanted to laugh, but he did not. What a pair of dolts that they would agree to attempt treason by helping to free the young Earl of Warwick, and not even realize what it was they were being asked to do. “Did this serving woman tell you what to do if you could obtain my help?” he asked them.

  “Oh yes, master. We were to breach the Tower with you and free the prisoner. The old woman said you must be with us, for you would know best,” the hapless conspirator said.

  Luca shook his head. “We will not meet again,” he said, getting up to leave them.

  “But we cannot do this without you!” the man protested.