In answer to your inquiry, the current yearlings are to be culled before the end of May. Nine are very promising and will remain here, but there are thirteen others, five stallions and eight mares, that will be offered for sale, all but one of the stallions as geldings. One of the mares died with her foal at birthing. Both were underweight and the farrier guesses that the mare had succumbed to worms, and because of the worms her foal could not thrive. We have continued to use the preparation that Bondama Clemens has provided to reduce the incident of worms, but they cannot be stopped completely. This would appear to be one of those cases.
Yes, I concur. It would be most welcome to all of those of us who live at Senza Pari to have Bondama Clemens return to us. I have realized in the last month that fully half of those who are employed on the estate have never seen Bondama Clemens, and know of her only through what those of us who have been here more than ten years can tell them. This is a difficulty for us, since it is irregular enough to be employed by a woman, widow or not, let alone one serving in an embassy in a foreign country. There has been much speculation about her that I have done what I might to depress, for it is not wholly to Bondama Clemens’ credit, and we must not permit those who work for her to speak of her disparagingly, though they have never met her.
Our hives have produced very well and the honey is of good color and sweetness. We will be able to get top price for it, and for the wine bottled last autumn, for the cellar-keeper informs me that all but two of the small barrels have produced an excellent wine, the two whites being a trifle sweeter than usual, which will require very delicate handling. The Loire Valley vines have at last produced vines and the cellar-master has said that the wine is of fine quality. We will not have much of it for the next several years, but unless there is another blight, each vintage should be a bit larger than the last. I have ordered all but a few bottles cellared so that they might be served by Bondama Clemens when she returns.
To that end, we have taken over the wine cellar at her other estate, the Villa Vecchia that she has had restored. The cellars there are superior to the ones we have here, and are much larger as well. I have sent eight men to the Villa Vecchia to tend to the cellar and care for the wines.
The building itself is in much better repair than it was five years ago, and improvements will continue for some time. There are a total of twenty-six people permanently employed there, mostly carpenters and those with similar skills. I have even found an artisan skilled with mosaics, for as Bondama Clemens advised me long ago, the floors there are ancient, going back to the time of the Caesars. Restoring them is a long and difficult task, but if that is what Bondama Clemens truly desires, I will see it done. I have also instructed the staff here and those in residence there that they are to put themselves at the disposal of a Conte da San Germanno, who has been in the New World. Since we have no information on the time of his possible arrival, we will attempt to be prepared for him at any time. It is my understanding that he has a single servant traveling with him, and that will provide some indication of the man. I would appreciate other ways to identify this Conte properly, so that I will not make the error of entertaining and caring for the wrong man. I would feel the disgrace of that act most keenly.
I have had word from Avisa’s sister, and the news she has sent is sad: that Avisa took a serious fever during the festivities of the Nativity. She was abed for ten days, during which time the physicians bled her thrice. According to what her sister writes through the good offices of her confessor, Avisa then rallied, but a short time later was again filled with fever and palsy, and quickly passed beyond the skill of the physicians attending her. She was given Extreme Unction while in a fevered trance and three days after died. She was buried before the beginning of Lent in the church Santa Croce where her sister and her family worship. I have sent the sum Bondama Clemens provides for the dead who have been in her employ. Avisa, being Bondama Clemens’ maid for so long, deserves the highest sum, and I have taken the liberty of providing the marble for her marker as well, all in Bondama Clemens’ name.
There have been other deaths as well. Our senior groom suffered an apoplexy and after a week was called to Grace. He was tended at Santissimo Redentore and I am certain no one could have had better care. Benedetto, the nephew of the farrier who was learning the trade, has suffered a wasting malady; one side of his body has become shrunken. The monks were ready to take him in, but he committed the ultimate sin and took his own life when he was told that his arm would never be strong. The wife of our Hungarian coachmaker has died in childbirth leaving him with four young children. We do not fear that he will find another woman to marry, and have been casting about for someone suitable, but I am aware of the warnings Bondama Clemens has issued on the place of stepchildren. They are to enjoy the same position and protection within a family as the children of second and third marriages. I will take care to see that her admonitions are heeded, both in finding an appropriate woman for him and in making arrangements for sums paid to the family. It is lamentable that this fine craftsman has had so great a loss; his life has been hard and his children must suffer with him, for which we all pray that God shows him mercy.
In regard to children, nine have died on the estate since the Nativity festival. Two of them drowned, one was killed by a fall of brick, the other six died of illnesses, two of them from children’s pox. Also, the oldest son of the second dairyman has been struck blind by a fever, and whether or not he will regain his sight is in the hands of God. I have provided the payments Bondama Clemens has always given in these instances, and have made provision for the blind boy, so that he will not be a beggar. It is rare in a landlord to be as generous as Bondama Clemens, and it is my most fervent hope that she will never have cause to condemn her generosity. But the heart of women is soft, and it is not in their nature to deprive those in need, for they were made to serve men, and to care for the young.
I will be deeply pleased to welcome home Bondama Clemens. It has been too long since I have been able to pay my respects to her myself, and have the advantage of her instruction. She is a very worthy matron, and I am wholly at a loss to comprehend why she has gone unwed these long years, for she is young enough to be a prize any man might pride himself on winning. I am aware that her husband was a nobleman, but surely there are other noblemen of sufficient rank that a marriage could be arranged. It troubles me to see her alone, for it is too great a burden for women to be without the support and sense of a man to guide them. God has made them weak creatures, in need of the protection and care of men, as He has made men to be strong and capable that they may care for women. It is not natural for Bondama Clemens to be so long without a mate if she is not called to Holy Orders.
Forgive me for my blunt opinions, but I say nothing that is not intended for Bondama Clemens’ good and for her protection. If she holds her husband’s memory in such esteem, it would be more fitting for her to enter a religious community than to remain active in the world where she is at the mercy of nearly all the assaults and plagues that are the burdens of men. If her estate is somehow left that she cannot retain it if she marries again, let her approach Mazarini or one of the Cardinals she knows in Roma, for they are powerful enough to exert their influence with the magistrates on her behalf. There can be no disapproval of such an inquiry, given the time she has been widowed. She is not hoping to have a Will altered with her husband’s pulse hardly stopped. I am certain that she would not have to sacrifice her entire inheritance if she married again. I have no doubt that the Cardinals are of a like mind with me and will urge her to find a new spouse if she is willing to ask them for their support. She has done much for them, and it is fitting that since they have employed her they give her the advantage of their protection for her service.
I await your next instructions and will provide my usual report in another two months. In the meantime, my prayers for the favor of God for Bondama Clemens and for you continue as they have for all the time you have lived in that foreign land, so
far away from us. May you prosper and live in virtue and the gracious favor of the Saints and Martyrs.
Gaetano Fosso
acting major domo of Senza Pari
On the 24th day of May, 1647.
5
Heat lay like a heavy, invisible hand on Tours, bringing all but the most necessary work to a halt. Spring had been warm, and now that June was almost over, summer was already making midday a furnace. Few travelers moved on the road, nor would they until the first shadows of evening made their comings and goings less torturous. At Olivia’s stud farm, most of the horses kept to the shade of buildings and trees, their heads carried low, only their tails active against the constant torment of flies.
Olivia was occupied in the cellar, inventorying the materials stored there. “Why on earth did they keep these dried apples?” she asked Niklos as she held one of the desiccated little fruits out to him. “Look at it. It’s more like a walnut than an apple. I don’t think you could persuade the horses to eat it. There are dozens of them on that shelf. See?” She raised the lanthom she carried, revealing at least thirty of the ancient apples. “Have them cleaned out, and any other dried fruit that is more than a year old. This is ridiculous!”
“They will be removed,” said Niklos, tossing the apple once, then bringing it closer to his eyes. “How old is this, do you think?”
“Who knows?” she asked. “I would like to find a date or two on these various jars and bags. I cannot rid myself of the worry that most of them have lain here since before Richelieu was born. They certainly smell that old.” Her nose wrinkled as she spoke, and in the next moment she suppressed a sneeze.
“If this is such a chore—” Niklos began.
“It is better than walking in the sunlight. And that has nothing to do with my native earth in my shoes, my friend; it has to do with the heat of the day.”
“Then a nap, perhaps?” Niklos said, gesturing around the cellar. “Tell Perceval you want this cleaned and ordered down here. You have set a fine example: you’ve been down here all morning, and there are five sacks of things to be discarded.” He indicated the sacks where they lay at the foot of the stairs. “They have to be disposed of, as well. You’ve made your point. Now let Perceval get around to his job.”
“He’s been very careful since he was hurt,” she said, sighing a little. “I was afraid he was dead at first. Imagine being worried about Perceval.” She shook her head in surprise.
“You have always been careful of those you employ,” Niklos observed. “Remember that page in England? It would have been an easy thing to let him be caught with the silver he had stolen.”
“And see him hanged?” Olivia asked, her hazel eyes growing serious. “No, thank you. Life is short and hard enough for those who have not changed.” She looked at the list she had made. “You’re right,” she allowed, then smiled. “In any case, I want an excuse to stop and yours is perfect. I will leave word for Perceval to tend to this, and I will spend an hour or two on my bed or in my bath.”
“Not in the bath,” Niklos said as he followed her toward the stairs. “For one thing, it would be no cooler than tepid, and for another, it is not fitting to ask servants to carry water in heat like this.”
She nodded as he spoke. “Of course. I’ll bathe tonight, when it is cooler and no one will faint for bringing those enormous tubs to the bath.” Her eyes shone with memories. “A pity we cannot have spouts, as we did so long ago.”
“That was another time,” said Niklos as he added one more sack to the pile. “Possibly one day we will have them again.”
Her face grew closed. “I have told myself that for more than a thousand years, but I have yet to see it. There are times when I wonder if I dreamed it all, and Roma were nothing more than a wish I had.”
“It was real. It was real even when I was there, and by then the best was over.” Niklos put his hand on her shoulder. “No despair, Olivia. We will be able to go home soon. Mazarin will not keep you here forever.” He shone his lanthorn around the cellar once more. “They say there are tunnels down here, as well. I haven’t been able to find them.”
“Besides, where would they go? Who would use them?” She shivered. “Sometimes, in places like this, I remember my tomb.” With a quick breath that was not quite a sob, she started up the stairs, motioning to Niklos to come after her. “And find Perceval for me, so that I can tell him what needs to be done.”
“Very well,” said Niklos, coming up the stairs behind her. “At least Perceval took your instructions to heart—you do have food enough for two months, if you are not too selective in your fare.”
“Oh, yes, that was done well. But it might have been better if the cellar had been inventoried and cleaned before putting in what I ordered.” She smiled as they reached the door, opening it herself instead of waiting for Niklos to do it for her. “The hinges need oil, too,” she added at the low, metallic shriek.
“It would keep anyone from sneaking in through the cellar,” Niklos said as philosophically as possible. “Consider what a difficult time a robber would have. No wonder Octave has stayed away from here.”
“His brother has nothing to do with it?” Olivia asked as Niklos turned the large key in the lock and added it to the ones on the massive keyring hanging from his belt.
Niklos did not answer at once. “I don’t know. I would have to see them together before giving an answer. I have no reason to think that Octave wishes Perceval harm, but Perceval will limp for the rest of his life, and it could be that Octave was the one who injured him, though not purposefully.” He shoved his way through a stack of empty barrels. “This estate has cost you a lot of money these last two years, Olivia.”
“Are you saying that the money has been lost foolishly?” she asked as they stepped into the pantry. The air was noticeably hotter and there was a faint, pervasive scent of rancid oil.
“No; I am saying that the estate should be making money, as it has in the past. The losses you have suffered here are not simply the misfortunes of agriculture, they are the result of deliberate attempts to compromise this estate.” He looked around the kitchen. “You’re right—the ovens need replacing, and that open hearth is much too old-fashioned. I will arrange for something new to be built here.”
Olivia gestured her agreement, but was not yet willing to change the subject. “Do you think that it is the estate or the Cardinal or myself that brings this about?” she asked. “You have kept very silent on that question: it isn’t like you, Niklos.” She had crossed the kitchen and now stood at the entry to the antechamber to the dining room. “And don’t tell me you haven’t formed an opinion.”
“I’ve formed several,” said Niklos, guarded but affable. “That’s the trouble. Every time I think I have sorted out the trouble, something else happens, and then I am at a loss once more.” He went through the antechamber and into the dining room. It was not nearly as grand as the dining room at Eblouir or Senza Pari, but it was a pleasant place, with tall windows on the north side that fronted on a garden, now almost brought back under control. The table was small, seating only twelve, and the two sideboards were little more than trestle tables.
“How is that? Will you tell me?” Olivia pulled out one of the chairs and gestured Niklos to take the other. “I’ve been at a loss to understand it, myself.”
Niklos sat down, and looked out into the garden for a short while before he replied. “If the estate is the target, then why has the estate been damaged? What neighbor, no matter how greedy, would damage the thing he wished to acquire? If it is Octave attempting to hide his activities here, then why bring attention to the place by causing so much misfortune? The magistrates have searched the estate four times, and that cannot be in Octave’s interest if he is hiding his men here. If the intent of whoever is causing these mishaps and accidents is to compromise the Cardinal, how does killing half a dozen horses accomplish that? The couriers can demand remounts from any landholder in the area, so killing your horses would not stop the
m. The estate is not used much for meetings of officials and couriers; most of the time it is for rest and remount. So there is no advantage in rendering it suspicious, because such suspicion can only bring about a minor disaccommodation, which means next to nothing to the Cardinal. Then there is you, but who have you offended that this would be the response? You are not here often enough to be known, and it is not easy to have dedicated enemies if there is not direct confrontation at some point.” He slapped his palm down on the surface of the table. “So. That leaves me with no answers at all.”
“Then what have you decided?” Olivia asked him, leaning back in her chair and waiting.
“I think, perhaps, that one of the nobles who distrusts the Queen and Mazarin because they see them as foreigners has decided to act against all the foreigners who are allied with Mazarin and the Queen. I think that possibly it is the wish of this noble to isolate Mazarin and Queen Anne, so that they have no place to turn. Then the nobles might decide to have a proper rebellion, and bring about the downfall of the little King along with Mazarin and Queen Anne. There are others of the Blood Royal to take the Throne, and if the man I postulate exists, then he may have a preference among those of the Blood Royal, and wishes by these acts to secure influence with him.”
“Quite a gamble,” said Olivia when he had finished.
“If that is the reason, and if I have guessed correctly,” he reminded her. “There is no indication that I am right. Just as there is no indication that I have stumbled upon the actual reason for what has taken place here.” He hit the table again, but with less force than before. “Go lie down. Perceval will wait upon you in an hour or so. And I will have a little time to dine in private.” He gave her a quick wink. “There is a plump kid, not one that would be saved. I have chosen it for myself.” He got up, glancing toward the door. “There will be another patrol of the main buildings in two hours, when most of the staff will want to move again.”
A Candle For d'Artagnan Page 48
